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the-tiniest-one · 3 years

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Hello! I saw you asking for requests to be sent in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for kakashi and gai (separately) with a plus size civilian s/o? Or one or the other? Thank you in advance ❤

MIGHT GUY

SO we all know Guy is ALL about 3 things. Youth. Passion. Protecting Precious People….and guess what? When you happen to cross paths with the Leaf Village’s Blue Beast, he trips over himself to let you know just how PRESH you are.

I don't see your status as a civilian as much of a road block for him. He needs someone grounded and with soft hands to hold.

Someone who will think he’s the strongest man in the world, a superhero.

He protects the ones he loves with his life and once you're in that circle there is no way out of this man’s giant heart.

You somehow enter Guy’s line of sight, maybe on a walk to class or work too early in the morning…. and from that moment you pass by and he catches sight of your pretty face, he is out for the count.

Now. Lets remember….Guy is CONFIDENT (sometimes more in spirit than in actual ability, he is the fake-it-till-you-make-it KING).

Also important to note: Guy is NOT the same as Rock Lee in his pursuit of women. He’s not about to blow every kiss at you from the jump or shamelessly confess everything out right. Don't get me wrong, he’s shameless….but Guy wants to be seen as someone cool, sexy, a real macho/mighty man... He wants to be slick Kakashi his eternal rival. He’s going to try to be velvety smooth….without success.

He would find any excuse to be in your eye line while flexing or saving a poor disguised student he employed for his contrived scheme, in this case... Neji or Lee in a dress from falling off a building LOL. (“They would be asking him to please explain again how this is training?”)------You might be a civilian. But Genjutsu of that level does NOT work on you LOL.

You are the one to finally introduce yourself to a slumped and defeated Guy after about a week of his adorable attempts at trying to bate you in with his goober acts.

“Hello, my name is (y/n). I was hoping maybe you would like to get a drink sometime?” you say with a half smile.

He would raise his head, teeth BEAMING….the power of youth always prevails!

Best. Decision. Ever. Guy charming and not to mention SHREDDED.

When he accepts your date offer, He would stand and grin, maybe saying something a little cocky like; “A handsome, war hardened devilish shinobi such as myself will always find time to satiate the voracious desires of such a heavenly woman so bursting with the essence springtime.”

He would be so so so respectful.

That being said, you're HIGH AF if you think you aren't making a B-line to walk by Kakashi on the way so Guy can tactfully walk by loudly so that his rival notices he’s with a cute girl.

He’s going to be the chivalrous type. The kind of man who makes sure your hands are around his giant bicep whenever he escorts you anywhere….which from this point on is almost anytime he is home from missions or not training.

Guy is perfect. He’s tall, JACKED, and such a sweet loving man.

He is obsessed with your shampoo. His nose is always in your hair.

Lets face it. Guy is 100% the most physical man that has ever walked the streets of Konoha. If you aren't big on touching, then his is not the man for you.

One hand will always be around your waist, holding your hand, arm around your neck, locked on your curves or anywhere else….respeeeectfully of course.

He will always be up on you and in your face so get ready for that LOL.

He will be proud of you. He will be boisterous to an exhausting level about your achievements.

He will be exhilarating in every way.

One of Guy’s greatest strengths is also one of his most unfortunate downfalls. He is wildly protective. Never underestimate his ferocity when it comes to you. You may have to communicate more than once where the line is when it comes to him watching over you. Even though you aren’t skilled in combat as he is, you also are not a child and he will take some time to learn what you require and what you don’t.

He always means well.

You have some faults and things to work on as well. Guy is tender as hell, an emotional, hot blooded, love sick fool who can and WILL take things you say to heart so be sure if you notice him freaking out or trying too hard to make you happy, to hold him and let me know often that he is perfect the way he his.

In the end all of the passions and butterflies that Guy provokes from your heart are entirely justified.

He will ask you to marry him after a date, probably at sunset, one knee, giant ring he spent way too much on.

He claims you deserve the world and you tell him that instead of the world “you would settle for just having his hands, his lips, and his heart.”

Do your best to return his love to the best of your ability because not everyone gets the chance to be loved by the Hidden Leafs Handsome Blue Beast.

KAKASHI

I’ve never seen Kakashi as someone who would end up with another shinobi bombshell.

Instead I think he would find himself interested in someone who is a total badass in another line of work.

Example; You first encounter him one day while advising Lady Tsunade on the information the Hidden Leaf Village (and a few others) pay’s your company large sums of money to collect, aggregate, and report.

Kakashi stands guard during the meeting, watching you speak with an eloquent grace and authority he finds captivating and maybe a little seductive.

By then end of the meeting he is curious about you...wondering what you thought of him, what you think about everything.... You never even look his way.

He falls in line with you as we escorts you out of the building, walking beside you in the otherwise empty stairwell.

You smirk and take the liberty of speaking first. “Did you enjoy the show Scarecrow?”

From that moment on he’s hooked.

Now I also don’t find the idea of him falling for someone with some FULL curves to be all that outlandish….He has never given .00000001% of a shit what other people think.

He also shares the famous Pervy Sage’s taste in “women he describes from research” and romantic books about women shaped like gourds so with that logic in mind….dude likes thicc, full, curvaceous women for sure. It's basically cannon at this point ;)

Kakashi is someone who has learned emotional detachment through pain. You are the first person who shows promise in tearing down those defenses.

Your relationship not necessarily a slow burn. Kashi isn’t a kid, just because he hasn’t fallen head over heals with anyone before, doesn’t mean he is a mystery to himself or oblivious to his feelings.

That being said, I do think he will protect you by keeping a relationship with you under wraps for the first year or so.

If anything EVER happened to you….he wont let that happen.

The secrecy could be hard on you at first.

Watching more than a few women flirt shamelessly with your Kashi is beyond ROUGH.

Especially considering most of them are tough as nails ninja women with perfect bodies. You aren't used to feeling threatened by other people men or women, so you have a hard time learning how to deal with it.

Kakashi is always quick to remind you that he is serious about your relationship though.

He looks at you with a ferocity only seen by people who are no longer alive. His voice is low and serious when he gets close and tells you, “(Y/N) You are my entire life. I will never leave you. I promise I am yours until the day I die.”

After a few times of him promising you that he really is in love with you, you believe him and can be secure in his word.

As his girlfriend, you take his breath away.

The way you speak, move, sleep….

Even the way you casually conduct yourself at home and in public makes him more than proud to know who you are. Let alone get to go home to you.

Guy is the first one to catch on believe it or not. He notices Kakashi peaking over the top of his book at you as you walk down the opposite side of the street. He’s known Kakashi since they were kids, he puts a reassuring hand on your boyfriends shoulder and vows without spoken words to protect you when Kakashi can’t be there….and Kakashi understands. It helps him sleep just a little better knowing he has help.

Stargazing on a rooftop one chilly autumn night, Kakashi grabs your hand and proposes to you with a small silver ring, slightly ashamed for it’s lack of a stone.

“I want you to be my wife.” is all he says and you wrap your arms around him whispering in his ear “You have had my heart since the first day I met you…. And you always will.”

His heart melts into a puddle at the sound of you telling him he will have a wife. Finally have family that loves him this much.

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

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Could I ,, possibly get some platonic headcanons of a father figure Tsuchigomori with a supernatural reader coming out to him as lesbian :praying emoji: take ur time <3

(platonic) tsuchigomori and gn!reader

a/n: of course! we love fatherly Tsuchigomori <3 we love Tsuchigomori in general <333 anyway, thank you so much for requesting!! I hope you enjoy!!!!

warnings: none <3

word count: 903

Tsuchigomori, though he’s sometimes a bit “coldhearted” (if that’s the best way to put it?), he’s definitely supportive of you no matter what.

Who cares if you’re his blood or not. You’re basically his kid- he may not say it to anyone’s face, but it’s an understood. Heck, should you slip and call him dad, he responds, no hesitation.

So, when you finally make that realization, you know he’d want you to be honest with him. Tsuchigomori never wants you to feel judged or less-than for any reason. He does his best to show that to you- he probably even treats you better than he does anyone else. When asked why, he’ll say it’s because (Y/N) is less of a pain than the others.

Is that true? Who knows-

Either way, when you sit down with him, your hands wringing each other slightly nervously, he’s instantly in “dad mode” as Hanako once called it. Tsuchigomori was ready to hear any news, almost worried that it was bad news.

“Put shortly, I’m, uh- I’m a lesbian. I'm attracted to girls, and that’s… it.”

His nervousness was alleviated instantly, and- if you looked closely- you would have seen the tension leave his shoulders. While he was sure you were nervous, and had probably troubled yourself over it for a while, he was still proud of you.

And, honestly? He had slight suspicions. Even if you never let it slip before, he’s been around kids for a looong time. He’s rather good at understanding body language, or picking up on things without them being said directly. Sure, in his human form, he takes on a more airheaded, lighthearted character- but he’s still the same perceptive supernatural.

“Alright,” He spoke, nodding, “that’s fine. My view on you won’t change, no matter your sexuality- and no one else’s should either. Thanks for telling me. I’m proud.”

Tsuchigomori didn’t usually say something even that soft to your face- it was his way of showing you his full support. Even though he wanted it to be understood no matter what, he’d tell you it just in case there was any doubt in your mind.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in relief. “Ahh, I should have known I was worried for nothing-” You spoke, before laughing lightly. Tsuchigomori smiled at that, happy that you trusted his support. It was a bonafide Proud Dad Moment.

As any father should do for their child, he’ll definitely watch out for you. He’s not fully caught up in the things going on in the world, but he does know some things. Even if there was growing support for the community, there were still those out there who (unfortunately) judged them. He was going to keep his eye open for any negative reactions from others- and, should any one even give you a bad look- he’d be on their case. Maybe not saying anything directly, but a glare from the usually fairly lighthearted teacher was a sign enough for most to shut up.

Also as most fathers do for their children, once you do start dating, he keeps an extra eye open. Now he’s gotta fight anyone who gives you a negative reaction, and any girl who hurts your heart. Well- at least most girls he met were kind. Boys, in his knowledge from teaching high school boys (the worst kind, dare I say), were a cause for more concern. But, he wouldn’t let himself hold too much of a bias. People in general could be mean, and he wasn’t about to let his child have their heart broken.

He did trust your judgement, of course. He just didn’t trust others <3

To be completely honest, I don’t think it’s outlandish to headcanon Tsuchigomori as gay. In fact, you tried to bring it up casually in conversation.

“So… like…… I like women.”

“I’m aware.”

“What kind of people do you like?”

“None. Personally, I’m not very interested in relationships like that. Good for those who are, but it’s not really my focus nor goal in life.”

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. Still, it was a relatively vague answer, so you pushed a bit further. Maybe being blunt would work?

“Do you know what your sexuality is? Or maybe you’ve never really thought about it-?”

“If you’re trying to gauge whether I like women or men, both or everything in between, then I’ll be honest. I’ve got no idea, as I’m not particularly interested. I’m sure if I fell in love, you’d find out one way or another, so don’t worry yourself about it.”

Ahh, unfortunately, that’s all the answer you’ll get from him about it. Though, like he said, should he start dating you’d be aware. Just as he’s going to make sure he’s aware when you start dating. Not overwhelmingly so, and he won’t be rude if you don’t tell him- he knows he isn’t your biological father, but he still considers you his child.

On a similar note, he won’t mind if you date a human or fellow supernatural- but he will feel a bit more worried if you fall in love with a human. For both sides, he knows it wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it’s a reason he (unadmittedly) worries for Hanako currently. Still, he’ll be supportive of you, no matter what type of partner you pursue. As long as it’s with a nice lady, he’s happy for you.

#anon #request #headcanons #tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tsuchigomori #platonic #platonic x reader #gn!reader #x gn!reader #x reader #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #tsuchigomori x reader #tsuchigomori headcanons

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suburbanbeatnik · 3 years

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The short and very miserable life of Napoleon II, aka the Eaglet, aka Franz, Duke of Reichstadt: PART ONE

Napoleon’s son with Marie Louise, his second wife, the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Habsburg Emperor Francis II, is known by a variety of names: Napoleon II, the Eaglet, l’Aiglon, King of Rome, or Franz, Duke of Reichstadt. It seems to me this kid barely gets mentioned as a footnote in most popular biographies of Napoleon. Of course Napoleon loved kids, and was over the moon that he finally had his own legitimate child, his own son and heir. He doted on this adorable and spirited blond moppet, being super affectionate with him, playing with him, spending lots of time with him, bringing him into his study to cuddle with him as he read dispatches, or tossing him up into the air when the toddler pulled on his coat-tails.

It’s very sweet and heart-warming to read all these adorable father-son moments, but honestly it’s depressing as hell to realize the best years of the Eaglet’s life was up to the age of four.

When he parted from his father after his defeat in Russia, it was all horribly and sickeningly downhill from there.

So I was reading Octave Aubry’s biography The King of Rome: Napoleon II. It’s not a new bio by any means— it’s from 1932. But it is thoroughly researched and very well written, with lots of cites from various Viennese archives, and Jesus Christ, it is depressing. The Eaglet was physically and emotionally abused by the Habsburg side of his family and by their minions for most of his very short life, and it makes for a harrowing read.

What did his mother do to stop it, you may ask? Unfortunately, the answer is absolutely nothing.

TW: CHILD ABUSE

So, the best that could be said about his mother, Marie Louise, was that she was a weak character. If I wanted to be more blunt, I’d say she was spineless enough to the point I wonder if she was even a vertebrate.

She was, of course, raised to hate Napoleon as a child. But then she met him and fell in love with him. She was very eager to be loved and do everything he asked her to do, even if (as Andrew Roberts points out in his own mammoth biography of Napoleon) she wasn’t the brightest bulb. But perhaps she was a perfectly cromulent empress when war wasn’t on her doorstep and she wasn’t asked to make decisions: but once the war WAS on her doorstep and decision-making was called of her, she fell apart like wet tissue. As Aubry explains:

That it would be a capital mistake for Marie Louise and her son to leave Paris was painfully evident to everyone, even to the Empress herself. But no initiative could have been expected of her. Willing, always of the best intentions, she was a passive creature both by temperament and education. She could never be more than an instrument in the hands of others. But Hortense, who had a resolute spirit behind that bleat of hers, showed both intelligence and heart in the circumstances. She was waiting for Marie Louise when the council was over, and said to her:

‘Sister dear, you must realize that in leaving Paris you will be neutralizing the defense and so lose your crown. I observe that you are making the sacrifice with great resignation.’

The Empress replied gently, almost humbly:

‘You are right. It is not my fault— the Council has decided that way.’

She was hoping vaguely for a letter from the Emperor, a counter-order that would permit her to remain. [Aubry pg 54]

At this point Louise, after fleeing Paris, wanted to be reunited with Napoleon, but she just cried and wrung her hands, as her lady-in-waiting Mme Lannes, in cahoots with Talleyrand, poured poison into her ear about how Napoleon never loved her. Then Talleyrand conspired to have all of Louise’s stuff stolen. The soon-to-be-ex-empress continued to cry and do nothing, only to go “to her room to collapse on her knees at her bedside.”

Anyway, her father swooped in and picked her up, and Metternich arranged to have Neipperg, a dashing, managing middle-aged man in uniform (Louise definitely had a type), seduce her. Within the space of weeks, she immediately changed her tune with regards to her husband, and wanted to have nothing more to do with him. As for the Eaglet, though he ended up in Vienna, he was in the care of his beloved governess, Mme de Montesquiou, aka “Maman ‘Quiou.” He was in good hands while Maman ‘Quiou was allowed to stay with him, but she was deathly afraid of being sent away, since she knew Louise was indifferent to her child and would never do the right thing, now that she was the puppet of her father and of Metternich.

With her son whom she had not seen for three months and who was enraptured at her return, she [Marie Louise] concerned herself less and less. In spite of the caresses and the gifts that were showered upon her, Mme. de Montesquiou saw things clearly and passed her judgment. Writing to her husband who was urging her to leave Vienna she said:

“My dear, do not call it my duty to return to France. As I have already advised you, you would be putting me in the greatest embarrassment, and my conscience would trouble me all my life long… If that child has a mother, very well, I could place him in her hands and be satisfied. But she is nothing less than that: she is more indifferent to his fate than the veriest stranger in his service.”

And to an intimate she confided in disgust at what she suspected and intuited:

“I have seen painful things, and I keep seeing them every day.” [Aubry pg 81]

Unfortunately, in 1815, Maman ‘Quiou was sent away. The Eaglet wept for two days straight, and was put into the care of a certain Countess Mitrovsky, “a creature of the Empress Maria-Ludovica and an intimate of Neipperg.” The loyal Meneval, who was also to be sent away, said good-bye to the little boy, and the change in the child’s demeanor was striking.

He was struck by the child’s earnest and melancholy air. He did not run to meet Meneval with his usual lively gestures and gay exclamations. He watched him, as he entered, with the utmost indifference. Countess Mitrovsky was with him. Every few seconds he would look at her as though in fear of a reprimand. After a few conventional phrases, Meneval took his hand and asked him if he had anything to say to his papa, for he was going soon to see him. The child looked at him sadly and went away, still silent, towards the embrasure of a distant window. Meneval bade good-bye to the Countess and Mme. Soufflot [one of the few remaining French waiting women], then, as he was leaving, stepped over to the little boy who stood watching him from the window. He bent low to bid him good-bye. And at that moment, he felt a tug at his coat and heard a trembling little voice say:

“Monsieur Meva, you will tell him that I still love him dearly.”

He was only four years old and for fourteen months he had not seen his father…

When he reached the antechamber, Meneval burst into tears. [Aubry, pgs 89-90]

Not long after this, the young King was delivered into the care of a tutor named Count Dietrichstein. The Eaglet, who was “dragged” by Countess Mitrovsky to meet Dietrichstein, refused to have anything to do with him, and Dietrichstein, while weeping, dramatically claimed to a friend “he cannot love me” as long as the last French women, even the aged nurse, were in Franz’s service. So Mme Soufflot, her daughter Fanny, and the others were banished, leaving Franz completely alone.

No more warmth about him, no more deep interest, no more deep interest, no soft hands to stroke his curls, no arms to clasp him too tight when he returned weary from a drive, no knees to spread him to let him rest, no more smiling reproofs for his shortcomings, no more love in short— real love, that is disinterested, unselfish love, love for himself and love for what he was. His mother was soon to leave him, to ascend to her throne in Parma. HIs grandfather Franz treated him kindly; but he had always sacrificed him for the interests of State and would sacrifice him again, if the Chancellor [Metternich] so ordered. As for his uncles, aunts, and cousins of Austria, however well they might treat him, however generous they might be, as certain of them were, they could not— and this was natural— help seeing in him, first of all, the son of Napoleon.

He was born with an affectionate disposition. He had loved his father infinitely. With his mother he had been tender and gentle. He had adored Mme de Montesquiou and Fanny Soufflot. Now he was compelled to close his heart. Brought up by men, raised only by men, but still too much of a child to become a man, he turned inward, escaped into the little universe he had made for himself with his memories of former days. For as young as he was, he had no hope, and he did not know there was a future. He was going to grow up that way, not unhappy if one only looks at the material content of life, but if one thinks of the needs of the heart, certainly not happy. [Aubry pgs 97-98]

Count Dietrichstein decided that he was going to stamp all the Frenchness out of the Eaglet’s mind, for he must become 100% a Habsburg. Nothing but German would be spoken to him, and when he clung to speaking French, crying that he didn’t want to be a German, that he wished to be a Frenchman, he was chastised, deprived of play and outings, and then, with the Emperor Franz’s approval, actually whipped. Yes— he was whipped. When he was only five years old, because he wouldn’t speak German.

But when even that wouldn’t work, Marie Louise sat him on her knee and told him solemnly that he must speak German to please his grandfather, which finally did the trick. Not long after this, she went to the little court in Parma. She requested for her son to go with her, but when Metternich refused, she acquiesced meekly.

Once so light-hearted and gay, the child became timid and mistrustful, and after the departure of his friends, the French women, and would lie to protect himself. In such cases he would be punished, not harshly, but not gently either. He shrank more and more into himself, accordingly, and since the world had grown hostile, he now began to offer it only a surface of indifference. [Aubry, pg 100]

He began to act out, destroying his copy books and mutilating his toys, but would also become sensitive to injustice or cruelty, like a dog being whipped or a bird eating a worm. He was told he would no longer be called Napoleon: he was to be called Franz. When he objected, he was “promptly silenced.” He became used to the name, and from here on out he was usually called Franz.

Franz still fought with Dietrichstein, who commented on his “laziness” and “ill will,” and his many quarrels with the prince, although he was happy to note in his letters to Marie Louise that it ended with “my victories.” Metternich had the boy closely followed, reports sent regularly and classified into a “ponderous file.” Meanwhile, his mother, off in Parma, when she wasn’t writing letters to her son exhorting him to pious obedience, made the feeblest attempt to defend the interests of the newly christened Franz— Franz was cut off from the succession of Parma after Metternich decided that this was in the best interests of the monarchy in Italy, Marie Louise was “readily brought into line by Neipperg, who owned her now body and soul.”

…She expressed herself as satisfied in a private letter of October, 1817:

“My son’s future has been determined. You know that I was never ambitious for thrones or States for him, but hoped he would be the richest and most charming gentleman in Austria.” [Aubry pg 110]

Meanwhile, Napoleon was kept on the island of St Helena, waiting for news from his son, but he heard not a word from his wife or a line from his son for six years. When he died, he was looking at Franz’s portrait, and left him many legacies, such as his books, engravings, papers, coffee service and the family house in Ajaccio, but Franz saw none of it. His mother, who was pregnant at the time with Neipperg’s son, didn’t even tell her son of his father’s death. She refused to accept Napoleon’s heart, which his will bequeathed her, because, as Aubry says, “she was more interested in the inheritance: she filed objection to the transfer of the six millions on deposit with Laffitte out of which the bequests of the Emperor were to be paid. She would not permit Marchand [Napoleon’s valet] to deliver to her at Parma Napoleon’s laces and the bracelet made of his hair.” Napoleon even begged her to take his last physician, Dr Antommarchi, into her service: she refused to even meet with him, palming the doctor off on Neipperg, who glad-handed Antommachi and pushed him out the door when he started asking too many questions about Franz.

Louise did moan about Napoleon’s suffering on St Helena while she was giving birth to Neipperg’s child, but she promptly forgot it. “She was a weak and frivolous soul. She would have grieved longer over her pet parrot, Marguerite. She even expressed astonishment that Madame Mere should have asked the British government for Napoleon’s body.” [Aubry pg 120]

One of the junior tutors named Foresti was given the task to tell the ten year old Franz that his father was dead.

The child began to weep and he wept a long time, doubtless calling up in his memory the pale face which had softened to such tenderness whenever it drew near his own. He sat down near the window, his cheeks, and his hands that covered them, wet with tears. Foresti himself was deeply moved and tried to comfort him. But the child did not hear him. [Aubry pg 122]

As Prokesch, his best friend of his short adult life, put it later:

“The prince wept for a whole day, almost without stopping. Then, suddenly, he mastered his emotions, dried his eyes, rose and paced the floor up and down. Not a word came from his lips. And several weeks passed before he alluded to his father’s death. He felt he must keep his grief to himself.”

Meanwhile, Franz was now thinking in German, but he still rebelled against his teachers, who, for years, beat him with the ferule (a type of paddle that resembled a long and large wooden spoon, the circular head often pierced with holes, and sometimes as large as a child’s head)— his grandfather the Emperor authorized “great severity” against him when he was being “stubborn”— but this stopped when it was clear beatings no longer had any affect. Except for brief months of pleasure during summer vacations at the castle of Persenbeug where Marie Louise deigned to leave Parma, Franz, who was completely without friends, was kept in solitude. He responded by withdrawing into himself and going into a fantasy world.

He dreamed, and gained freedom by dreaming. As a small boy he loved to play: now that he was growing up, it was still what he liked to do best. Never did child love to dream more than he: that escape from time, from responsibilities, from disappointments, that journey without end, where ideas, colors and forms mingled according to one’s fantasy! As soon as he could flee the watchful care of Foresti or of Collin, instead of working at his translations, his themes, or his arithmetic exercises, he would open the huge gilt-edged volumes given to him on his birthdays by his grandfather or the Archdukes and leaning his head on his hand, began to dream with his eyes upon the awkward, rather ridiculous illustrations of those days, in which one could see beplumed generals prancing besides their armies with spent cannonballs lying at their horses’ feet, while down in one corner an aide-de-camp would be reading an order and in the other an almoner kneeling besides a stretcher to confess a dying soldier.

Sometimes, bending low over an atlas, he would travel in spirit far out over the blue seas to the continents bordered in loud colors. One day, Matthias Collin came into the room and found him, with his cheek resting on a map. The little prince did not get up at his approach. His teacher thought he was asleep. But on going towards him, he saw the child’s eyes were wide open. The boy gave a start of surprise and blushed. He had been dreaming. Collin was more indulgent than Foresti. He did not punish him. [Aubry pg 132]

* * *

More to come in part two!

#napoleon II #franz duke of reichstadt #l'aiglon #eaglet #reichstadt #marie louise #napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #octave aubry #king of rome #depressing shit #I'm sorry guys

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thomas-the-goat-of-satan · 3 years

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June 2, 2000

What does that day, month and year mean to you? President Bill Clinton used that particular day to declare ”Gay and Lesbian Pride Month”. Nine years later, on June 1st, President Barack Obama spoke to incorporate an even wider group. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered citizens alike could all have this month for recognition, respect and appreciation. However, I am aware that not all minds meet equally about the rights and respect that we should pay to others. As each generation leaves their footprints, and paves the way for what is to come…to some, change is an impossible idea or action to put in motion.

You know what? Often, this unfortunate reality is because of learned behavior! As much as we may often preach that we like to speak for ourselves, or outside the box, how many times have you caught yourself, or someone you know repeating the thoughts of another before them? Sometimes without proper information? And how many times have you felt that perhaps further knowledge on an issue or subject matter might result in a different voice, a different understanding? Perhaps even going against the ideas they’ve learned, heard, or grown up around? We have the ability to fly planes, send astronauts into space, develop technology such as cellphones! Things that once were unfathomable. I can sit at this small computer and type this message. Once I push send, this message can be seen by anyone who’d like to engage, all across the WORLD.

As many of you know, we (the Glee cast) have been storming the country at whirlwind speeds to put on a forty-two show, month-long tour. It has been a constant reminder of why we do this. We’ve witnessed the impact our show has had, from the very beginning, to these moments, three years later. You LOVELY & AMAZING fans! Just indescribable. The love, affirmation, and dedication you provide! We see it all, value it all. Trust me, we do! On stage, the excitement that we absorb from your ball of energy brings our adrenaline levels to highs that often-times, we aren’t sure we can reach. Bottom line, we love you guys. And our crew! Without this diverse group of hard-working people, this venture would be impossible.

Yesterday was June 11th, and we were tackling our newest location, Toronto! We had finished our first concert of the day, and I was about to take a moment to relax before the second. On the way to our dressing rooms, I passed a stack of shirts lined up on the merchandise tables. The white T’s were modeled after shirts we wore in a performance set to Lady Gaga’s, “Born This Way.” This sparked an idea. And that idea ended up on stage.

Kindness moves mountains. Acceptance opens doors, makes room for change, diffuses misunderstanding. Every day, people commit hate crimes because of misunderstandings. Hate effects the target, and consumes the person behind the gun. It is crazy to realize that we have been in war for almost our entire existence on this planet. Many times for reasons of greed and hate.

Anyone that has experienced the death or abuse of a loved one can tell you that, “IT HURTS BEYOND EXPLANATION!!! AND WE SHOULD DO EVERYTHING IN OUR POWER TO MAKE ANY CHANGE POSSIBLE.” Raise your hand if you’ve spent nights crying yourself to sleep, raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather hide in bed all day than face the people that make you feel small or powerless! Raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather lie to people than tell them the truth about who you really are, because at least you wouldn’t be the victim of hateful behavior or prejudice! And raise your hand if lying feels almost as bad.

I was not raised in a family that accepted prejudice or hatred. For that, I thank my Mom and Dad each and every day. Look, we are human, we make mistakes. I will gladly shout from the rooftops that I AM NOT PERFECT. Nor will I ever be. But I can happily say that to my knowledge, I do not ever intentionally cause people pain. I love my family, my friends, my co-workers…and they all consist of girls AND boys. I do tell them that I love them. Yesterday, during our second show, Instead of wearing my usual shirt during “Born This Way” I decided to wear one that said “Likes Girls”. It should actually have read, “Loves Girls”, because I do. The women in my life give me things that the men in my life can’t. And vice-versa. No, I am not a lesbian, yet if I were, I hope that the people in my life could embrace it whole-heartedly. And let me tell you, I can easily spill (quite comfortably) what I admire, respect and think is beautiful about any of the women in my life. Piece of cake!

Last night, I wanted to do something to show my respect and love for the GLBT community. Support that people could actually see. Which is why I decided to change my shirt for the show. I happened to read a few comments that were posted on twitter. Many of you asked, “why?” This is my response. I am not asking for you to agree with what I am saying, but if you are listening, thank you. That is all I can ask. And a step further would be to take a moment to (honestly) answer the questions that I have raised. We can’t always put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. But we can try.

I am lucky to live in a place where I can wear almost anything that I want to express myself, and that jail is not a probable consequence. Which makes me feel as if I should exercise my right to do so every now and then. Think of the people that have died because of their passion and heartfelt hopes of change? So many good men and women. All because of an inherent wish for tolerance, love and support.

Our show celebrates the GLBT community. We are proud to be a part of something that embraces an often avoided topic. Hate is terrible, especially when we pass it down to a new generation of innocents. Recently, I heard a lament about San Francisco. How SFO just didn’t sound like a fun place to be, or visit, because that person wasn’t gay. Wait, really???? I wanted to laugh! But that would have been a response that wouldn’t have encouraged that person to be open-minded. To see that perhaps, their statement was foolish? Why won’t San Francisco be fun for you? Do you think the whole city is gay? Do you think they will judge you? Won’t feed you good food? Perhaps they won’t let you have fun, the way THEY have fun?

Sadly, we’ve gotten letters from people who explain that they love the show but hate the gay story-lines. That we shouldn’t be polluting their children’s heads. To this I’d sometimes like to sarcastically reply, would you also like us to tell them that a stork is dropping off our offspring? That the sky is purple? That it is not practical to be true to yourself, because there are mean people in this world that will make them feel wrong for being honest? That instead of embracing themselves, they should lie to the world? THEY should be the ones being untrue and unhappy?

I believe that if you are bringing a child into the world, you should be willing to accept them in any reality. Whether they are Black, White, Asian, have four fingers, are disabled, gay….that the only wish should be for a happy and healthy baby. We are each other’s children. Unless someone has committed a violent or hateful act, why should we judge? We can so quickly resort to anger, often, the product of a whole other issue. Most often, an issue with our own self.

I understand that I am sitting behind the protection of this computer screen, in this hotel room, and to many I might sound “preachy”. Especially now that I have written an essay. I hope my intentions sound pure, and just. I speak, because I am passionate. I write with this passion because I know how it feels to be hurt, to be depressed, to not value yourself, or your feelings. If any of this has inspired or moved you, even just made you think….I encourage you to tweet or reblog a picture, quote, anything that you feel will continue to spread the love. And if any are interested in tracking the chain, perhaps visualizing the greater collective, include the hatch tag, #letlovein.

Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives. - C.S. Lewis

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. - Lao Tzu

Fortune and love favor the brave. - Ovid

AND remember that sometimes….

People need loving the most when they deserve it the least. - John Harrigan

To thine own heart be true. Many thanks for your time, your love, and the gift you’ve given me.

Sincerely,

Dianna Elise Agron

Dianna Agron at all times:

#dianna agron #people #cloey says stuff #ask #anon #mine

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 5

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, reference to smoking (cigarettes), allusions to NSFW topics

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea

Gettin' sold, second hand

That's how it goes, playin' in a band

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

~ AC/DC - It’s A Long Way to the Top ~

Halfway through their first week back on tour, their time in London was slowly drawing to an end. Lizzie couldn’t quite believe how fast the days seemed to fly by, each one a blur of tiredness, boredom and the addictive rush of adrenaline when they were on stage. Every day and night was like the one before and totally different all at once.

It felt like only yesterday that she had stepped from the plane back from America; at the same time, being surrounded by all the familiar faces and living in long established routines, her break from the hustle and bustle already seemed like an eternity away. Lizzie could still feel the last traces of jetlag wearing her down sometimes, but at least her shifted rhythm helped her stay energised during the shows; not that she was getting much sleep afterwards either.

Wrecked from her chronic lack of sleep, Lizzie had missed her alarm this morning. When she arrived at the largest dressing room of the O2 Arena, she found the rest of the band already assembled.

Merula and Everett were sitting at the huge table in the middle of the room, Everett scrolling through his social media accounts while Merula was painting her nails in a dark violet colour. Skye was slumped onto one of the sofas at the back of the room, a magazine spread across her lap. She looked up from the colourful pages as she saw Lizzie enter.

“About time you’re showing Jameson; thought you’d gotten lost somewhere. Where’ve you been?”

Lizzie sat down on the arm of the sofa Orion was sitting on; he lifted his head briefly and smiled before bending over his notebook again. Lizzie tried catching a glimpse of the lyrics he was scribbling down but he covered them with his hand. With a shrug, Lizzie turned her attention to Skye.

“I overslept and then ran into Charlie. Murphy and KC are gone somewhere, ‘having a meeting’ apparently.”

“That’s what they’re calling it these days,” Merula muttered under her breath, making Skye snort with laughter.

“Anyway,” Lizzie chuckled, “they’re not here to show the new pyro girl around. They left the job to Charlie, but apparently she’s late and no one knows how to reach her. He’s a little grumpy about it.” She furrowed her brow in concern. “I hope that doesn’t make for a bad start. Charlie had better behave, from what KC told me the newbie is promising.”

“A female pyro tech, just when I thought I’d seen it all,” Everett scoffed. “I mean, how good can she even be?”

Merula arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “You have a problem with a woman on the job, or what?”

Everett blatantly ignored her, however. “Hopefully we’ll have something to look at this time, right Orion?”

Orion was trying not to roll his eyes. “What we portray on the outside pales in comparison to what we carry in our hearts; as long as she’s a good person who is sure of what she’s doing, nothing can go wrong.”

“Getting along with Charlie would help, too,” Lizzie added.

A grin tugged at Orion’s lips. “It would indeed.”

Everett looked at him sceptically and shook his head. “Listen to you, as if you didn’t care about looks as well.”

Now Orion finally looked up from his notebook for good and frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop acting all innocent, everyone knows you’re getting your fair share of groupies as well,” Everett laughed, obviously finding the thought of someone preferring Orion to him hilarious. “Hotel room walls aren’t the thickest, you know.”

Lizzie almost choked on the bottle of water she had helped herself to. She was trying her hardest not to blush as her eyes flickered to Orion. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she busied herself with the lid of her bottle, hopefully looking more innocent than she felt. She could tell by the way Orion was trying to keep a straight face that Everett’s remark came just as surprising to him as it did to her.

Clearing his throat, Orion replied levelly “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s a wonder you’re able to hear anything over the racket you’re making most nights.”

Everett shrugged. “At least I’m open about it.”

“As much as I hate to say it, but Ev has a point,” Skye chimed in all of a sudden. She was waving her magazine through the air. “According to the Daily Mail, you’ve had at least six affairs ever since we’ve been to Spain. They mark you down as quite the casanova.” Same as Everett before, the thought seemed to amuse her to no end.

Merula rolled her eyes at Skye. “Why are you even reading that shit?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Skye shrugged. “And it’s fucking hilarious.”

Meanwhile, Lizzie had regained her composure. “Well, don’t keep us on the rack. What’s the latest news?”

Skye cleared her throat before scanning the pages. “After things got frosty between us in Poland, Lizzie and I have apparently decided on an open relationship. Good for us,” she looked up and blew her friend a kiss, which made Lizzie giggle. “They’re still taking bets when Merula is going to come out of the closet -”

“What is this bullshit with me being gay all the time,” Merula snarled.

“You just give that vibe, I know what I’m talking about,” Skye shrugged indifferently before carrying on. “We already had Orion being a ladies’ man and Ev… “

Skye trailed off as she read the paragraph again and looked up after she had finished. “There are pictures of you with Rita Skeeter in here, what’s that about?”

“None of your business,” Everett answered brusquely.

Lizzie saw Skye’s face darken at his tone and quickly snatched the magazine out of Skye’s hands. Just as anticipated, Skye’s attention immediately went to her as she tried to get it back.

The potential fight being dissolved before it had begun, the mood was gradually calming down again. It was an almost relaxed atmosphere in the dressing room, when the door opened and Ethan walked in. He looked very tense and as the door fell shut behind him with a bang, the muscles around his mouth were tight. He exhaled slowly, his hands running over his lessening brown hair.

Skye was disconcerted to see her father looking so unusually stressed. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

He held up a hand to silence her before producing a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket. Flicking his silver lighter open, he held the flame to one of them. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“You do realise that there’s smoke detectors in here?” Lizzie pointed out apprehensively. “I don’t know about you but I don’t care much about getting soaked.”

Ethan took the glowing cigarette out of his mouth again and put it out against the nearest table. “Fucking rules,” he muttered. “Nobody gave a shit back in my days.”

Orion looked up from his notebook, his dark eyes unreadable as they took in Ethan’s nervous demeanour. “It’s clear to see that you’re agitated, but a pain is shared is a pain halved. What’s the matter?”

Ethan sighed, wistfully closing the packet of cigarettes before stowing it away in his pocket. “I had a few calls back and forth with the label over the last few days.”

“So?” Skye urged him on.

“They’re not particularly impressed with what the press is writing about you at the moment. They’re considering cutting the budget for the next album by half.”

His words went down like a lead balloon in the silence spreading throughout the room; no one could believe what they were hearing.

“Why the fuck would they do that?” Skye finally managed to croak out. “The next album was going to be our biggest production so far.”

“Why are they even thinking about it?” Lizzie agreed. “We’re playing to a full house every night. We’re doing a great job, if I may say so, and the reviews have all been really positive so far. The press has been good.”

But Ethan shook his head. “No, Lizzie, the press hasn’t been good at all. People don’t care about professional reviews in respectable magazines anymore. Everything the public sees is what’s written in those goddamn tabloids.” He was eyeing Skye’s copy of the Daily Mail with a grim face. “And they’re having a field day with you; have been for a while now.”

His look darkened further as his gaze swept the round of musicians assembled in front of him, resting particularly long on Everett, who didn’t budge in the slightest.

“Some of you are taking this whole ‘rockstar’ lifestyle too seriously. What was fun and games in my time doesn’t work today anymore. I’ve been told that the label had to fork out a good amount of money to get some positive stories about you out, counter the negative attention you’ve been getting.”

His words were met with icy silence, none of them feeling personally addressed by Ehtan’s barely hidden accusation.

“Listen,” he continued more placatory, “I know sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll are all fun to do, I’ve been there myself. But these days, people aren’t as easy about diva behaviour and trashed hotel rooms.”

Again, he was giving Everett a hard stare. “Cleaning up behind you costs the label hard cash. Cash they’re now cutting from the production budget.”

“That is very unfortunate to hear,” Orion spoke into the ensuing silence. “Is there anything we can do to make them reconsider their actions?”

Ethan’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Good that you’re asking! I already designed a battle plan for us, we won’t have them compromise our work that easily.”

He placed both of his hands on the table where Merula and Everett were sitting, tapping the smooth surface with his fingers. “I’m thinking about going all out on the charm offensive. We’re going to be doing more interviews, more meet ‘n’ greets, fan events, charity bullshit, more of everything. You name it, we’re going to do it. We have to show the public you’re not some off-hook dickheads but still the old friends with a fucking heart of gold like you were when Equinox started.”

Merula snorted derisively. “Nice thought, but I doubt that will impress the guys from the label. You said it yourself, they’re all about the money, they don’t care about this sentimental bullshit.”

“You’re right,” Ethan said, “that’s why I struck a deal with them.”

The way he was avoiding Orion’s eyes was boding ill on Lizzie. And sure enough, Orion’s shoulders were tense as he spoke, his voice noticeably cooler than before. “What kind of deal?”

“They want to know if your new material is worth the huge investment. We need to prove that we’re still the best horse in their stable and they should place their bets on us instead of the new blood they recently signed, like that Winger guy.”

He ran his hand over his dark goatee as he met Orion’s eyes. “Some representatives are going to come to one of the shows in Manchester, see whether what you’re doing is still good enough for their full support.”

He raised his chin in a commanding gesture as he continued. “And they want to see how the crowd reacts to the new songs.”

Lizzie involuntarily held her breath. Orion was particular about his music; Ethan could have just as well asked him to set down his guitar and never touch it again.

And sure enough, his answer to Ethan’s proposition was simple. “No.”

But Ethan wasn’t about to acknowledge defeat so easily. “Yes. If we give the crowd and accordingly the label a taste of what’s to come, they’re going to see that we only deserve the best of the best once we’re ready to hit the studio again.”

Orion, however, remained unimpressed. “No.”

Ethan blinked, clearly irritated at the refusal to cooperate. “Why not?”

“None of the songs are ready to be shared. You don’t serve your guests a half-cooked meal and neither do you hang a picture missing its colours on the wall.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked Ethan straight in the face, the look in his eyes unwavering. “I won’t have my unfinished work being sold for profit; that’s not what this is about.”

Ethan glared at Orion, but instead of a sharp remark from his side, Everett spoke up. “We could play my stuff.”

Clearly surprised at the unexpected offer, Ethan turned his attention to the singer of the band. “You got songs of your own?”

Everett shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure I do. Just promise me they’ll be featured on the album and they’re all yours.”

Hesitant about giving Everett the confirmation he was asking for, Ethan focused on Orion again. “‘No’ is your last word?”

Lizzie had heard some of Everett’s songs before. They weren’t bad by all means, but they were lacking the finesse Orion’s music brought with it. She knew Ethan would take whatever he was offered, but that wouldn’t be in the band’s best interests.

“I know you're protective of your work,” she told Orion quietly, giving him an encouraging smile, “but you showed me what you’ve written so far, and some of the songs are almost there. They’re the best you’ve ever done, believe me. Everyone’s going to love them.”

Orion held her gaze for a moment, searching for the affirmation he needed to agree to a deal he didn’t want to make, but knew he had to in the end.

When he finally tore his eyes away from hers, he looked at Ethan and sighed. “Fine, have my songs. Under one condition,” he added, nipping Ethan’s victorious grin in the bud. “Until I’m completely satisfied with them, I’m going to sing them.”

“Excuse me?” Everett bristled up, “Am I the singer of this band or you? Get out of my fucking spotlight.”

Orion shook his head. “You misunderstand; I’m not trying to fight you for your place in the sun, my friend. But I wouldn’t know how to explain to you what I want the songs to sound like until they’re really finished.”

Ethan snorted. “Stop being a diva, Orion.”

But Orion was adamant in his resolve. “I’m not. All I want is for the people caring about our music to get what they deserve; and they don’t deserve some unfinished songs that aren’t even played the way they’re supposed to be.”

Both Ethan and Orion were staring at each other for a moment longer, before Ethan threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine, have it your way then.”

Not believing what he was hearing, Everett stood up from his seat. His aggressive energy seemed to fill the room, making it feel a lot smaller than it actually was.

“Are you for real?” he snarled at Ethan. “I’m the frontman of this band, not him! It’s bad enough that his songs are the only ones that get played when mine are easily as good.”

He turned to Orion, eyes sparkling with anger. Lizzie, who was still sitting next to him, tried not to shrink back before him, but Orion met his gaze as calmly as ever. However, this seemed to anger Everett even further.

“You always said you didn’t want to sing, you were perfectly happy with doing background vocals if you had to. Why now all of a sudden? Tell you why, you’re not happy there’s someone else who knows how to write a decent song in this band. Do you consider me a threat to you or what?”

Everett’s voice had risen considerably. Skye and Lizzie were sharing a worried glance as the two male members of their band were glaring at each other, Merula just looking to and fro between them with a bored expression.

Not wanting things to go south even more than they already were, Ethan stepped between Orion and Everett to break their eye contact. “Ev, calm down. There’s no need -”

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Taken by surprise, it took Ethan several attempts to make the strain disappear from his voice. He cleared his throat one more time before calling to whoever was waiting on the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm au #rockstar au #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snye #lizzie jameson #when stars ignite #besties collaborate

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nicco-needs-love · 3 years

Text

Back with the last two chapters! Quick warning, this is the chapter with a quick description of gore! It's short and it's not a canon character <3 y'all are so sweet omg- this is a looong one. Pretty sure it's around 4k .

(2/3)Red Proposal

"Ooooh isn't this exciting?! We're going to a wedding! God, this is awesome!"

"Shut up, rat! If I hear one more word about this damn thing we aren't going!"

"Awww, come on, angel baby! This is an exciting day for everyone! I mean, we could take some pointers from this-"

"Shut up!"

Hyde is silenced by a pillow slamming against his face. Licht huffs, getting off their bed and stomping into their bathroom.

Hyde laughs, peeling the pillow off his face. He can't help but be excited, it's a wedding! Especially since it's a wedding for one of his siblings, most shockingly is Ildio getting married! Hyde is a sucker for weddings, the most romantic day of someone's life. Well, it's been about ten days out of Hyde's life, he tries not to think about that. He got up hours ago, already getting ready for Ildio's wedding. There's a dress code, obviously fancy attire, the really interesting thing though is that the wedding theme is all white. Hyde finds it ironic, a vampire and a mafia boss, having an all white wedding. Honestly it's a beautiful thing.

"Angelllll…! Don't leave me alone! I wanna cuddle~!"

"Oh my fucking god Hyde!"

Licht kicks open the bathroom door, clearly 'irritated'. Hyde laughs, his arms wide open for a well deserved cuddle session.

"Pleaseee! Baby!"

Licht huffs, not in the mood to argue about this. He thinks that Hyde may actually need this. Licht doesn't ask about Hyde's past, it's a touchy subject for obvious reasons. The only time he really hears about it is during Hyde's emotional occasional rants. He knows that Hyde has been married multiple times, which is something that many people do, it's completely normal. However, multiple marriages don't have the same circumstances as Hyde's. Licht can understand that today can be an emotional day. So, he decided a few nights ago, when they got the wedding invitation and when Hyde started crying; that Licht would be much more tolerable to Hyde's antics. He lies down in Hyde's arms, Licht's face against Hyde's shoulder.

"There. Happy now?"

Hyde hums, laying his head on top of Licht's, smiling into his hair.

"Mhm. Very."

Unfortunately for Licht, he's very comfortable. This is a daily occurrence, much to Licht's 'dismay'. He's gotten used to Hyde's emotional swings, between being completely neurotic and bursting into tears. These little moments, usually last around ten minutes, are a highlight of Licht's day. No one would ever hear those words from his mouth, though.

"Y'know… I'm kinda worried for Wor and his Eve. Their wedding isn't gonna be public but it's much more public than I thought they were gonna do."

"What do you mean? It's a wedding, not a cult ritual. "

"No, no, I mean anyone could show up. I still remember Child's look when he found out there would be another wedding. I don't think he himself would do anything but his subclass? I'm not too sure."

"I think you're thinking too much into it, why would he even want to ruin a day like that? If it's not meant to be, they'll just divorce."

Hyde goes silent for a moment, mulling over not Licht's words, but Hugh's. Hugh would keep glancing over at Hyde while talking about how marriage doesn't work for Servamps. That it's just a painful thing for both of them. Hyde knows that Hugh was talking to Ildio, but the words felt directed at him. Even though he doesn't think about her anymore, it's a topic that will never be let go during meetings.

"Hey, it's rare for you to shut up."

Licht's words drag Hyde out of his thoughts.

"Aha, sorry angel, just started thinking."

"Well. Stop thinking about other things, start thinking about me, an angel. "

Licht can feel Hyde smile against his head.

"Yeah, you're right, angel. You're the best to think about."

Hyde shouldn't be thinking about the negative things, especially on such a joyful day. He just can't help it. So much negativity has happened in the lives of the Servamps. Why would luck grace any of them today?

"This is going to be the best day of my life… this is going to be the best day of my life this is-"

Niccolò keeps repeating that mantra in his head, it's not that he doesn't think this will be the best day of his life. He's just cripplingly worried and anxious about this day. What if he messes up? What if he falls down on his face while walking down the aisle? What if Ildio decides that's it, he doesn't want to get married? What if-

"Boss. Are you alright?"

Nicco looks over to Cappuccino, snapping out of yet another one of his worry sessions.

"Ah, I'm fine. Just… worrying."

"Shouldn't you-"

A knock on the door startles Niccolò, the door opens slowly.

"Sorry to interrupt, I just would like to have a conversation with Niccolò Carpe Diem."

The door completely opens, revealing a man that Niccolò doesn't know. By the look of the suit, he's most likely a member of another family. Nicco swallows heavily, feeling somewhat nervous at the sight of this. He takes a few steps forward, offering his hand to the stranger. In the corner of his eye, Nicco can see Cappuccino with a hand in his shirt, where everyone keeps their guns holstered.

"Nice to meet you."

The stranger takes his hand, shaking it quite enthusiastically.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet the new leader of the family! I knew your father, he was a wonderful man."

Niccolò raises a brow, giving a small smile. This man certainly caught Nicco off guard. He thought he knew everyone back when Father was alive. As he was ill for a long time, Nicco had met everyone within his father's social circle since he was going to inherit the family. With shame, Nicco thinks that he could not be paying enough attention to the events of other familiar families. He's done a decent job gaining all their trust but all of that could go away at any moment, it's a terrifying thought to Niccolò.

"R-really? Well, it's wonderful to meet you again. You're welcome to stay if you'd like. This is a personal event and I don't think we've been in contact so this may be an awkward situation. "

The man shakes his head, still holding Nicco's hand. Nothing seems wrong with the man, his tone and presence seem harmless. Still, Nicco is on edge.

"What personal event is it? I just wanted to meet the new kingpin after your father's passing."

Niccolò drops the man's hand, the term 'kingpin' catching his attention. It's a word that Nicco hasn't heard in a long time. Especially in the business he's in, that word is very much a buzzword, a word that isn't used kindly. If this man actually knows the family, then that word would not be used.

"Forgive my rudeness but, which family are you a part of?"

The man smiles,

"Serpente."

Niccolò freezes, blood running cold. This family name… Nicco remembers it far too well, they were the first family that Nicco spared. He spared their boss, thinking that family would leave the city. Instead… They set aflame the building where a child and parents of a very close family of Nicco's. To this day, Niccolò still tears himself apart about it. If only he had shot that boss… He tenses, not too sure how to continue the conversation-

"Anyway, what event is going on today?"

Before Niccolò can even speak, the Serpente family member speaks. Nicco isn't sure he should even tell this man. However, if he acts suspicious now, things could go horribly wrong.

"It's uh… today's my wedding."

"Your wedding!? Well, who's the lucky lady?"

Nicco goes quiet, not sure what to say to this. For the few people that know about this wedding, they're fine with it. Not many people even need to know anyway, marriage isn't going to affect his job, and that's the most important thing. There's also the fact this marriage is complicated, it isn't a 'conventional' wedding. A gay marriage, a gay marriage with an immortal vampire and notorious mafia boss.

"Uhm… Well, I'm marrying a man. I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Niccolò chuckles, trying his damndest to add some humor. He isn't sure who this man is, besides the name… His hands are uncomfortably clammy, he's getting increasingly nervous by the moment. The man gives Nicco a look. A look that Nicco can place from looks he has seen in the church. Years of flashbacks, years of self loathing, years of tears. All of that from one glare. Niccolò takes a small step back, the step signaling Cappuccino to get a grip on his gun. Nicco doesn't want to start a fight, especially today. He already had started getting ready for the wedding. He was going to be the one walking down the aisle. Already in his white suit. The last thing Nicco wants is to get into a fight with the stranger, getting either his own blood or this man's everywhere.

"I see… Well, I hope you have a wonderful wedding! I'd love to stay for the ceremony! I'll be back for the meals!"

The man laughs, walking right out where he came. Niccolò blinks, he sighs loudly, tension leaving his shoulders like a boulder.

"Grazie Dio…"

He comments, shoulders slumping down.

"Did he say he was a part of… Serpente?"

Cappuccino says hesitantly, not sure if he heard right. Nicco nods, rubbing his temple.

"Yes… I'm not sure he was telling the truth…"

Niccolò knows he shouldn't let this get to him, it could have just been a new boss wanting to make amends with Nicco. Yet, here he is, getting freaked out and very weary of what just happened.

"This is going to be the best day of my life… This is going to be the best day of my life."

"Ohhh this is so exciting oh my god! You're getting married!"

"Law, shut up."

The wedding just began. Ildio waiting at the altar, the best men and women of both grooms on each side of the altar. Ironically, a priest at the forefront of said altar. It's a beautiful sight, everyone all dressed in white suits and dresses. White chiffon curtains tied to trees, white rose petals scattered throughout the grounds, a gorgeous pearl white five-tier cake, it's a stunning scene. All the chairs filled with people, there aren't many chairs, a grand total of twelve. The Servamps are standing with Ildio, the best men, and one woman. Even Hugh showed up, it took a lot of convincing but he ended up showing up. Of course, when he did, Hyde gave Hugh a long talk about saying anything negative today. Surprisingly, he agreed and even apologized. Their Eves are all sitting down in the pure white chairs. The other chairs filled with Niccolò's family. Ildio even got to meet Niccolò's sister, who looks uncannily similar to Nicco. She's a very kind person, can't hold a candle to the kind heart or beauty of Niccolò, but still a very kind and lovely person.

The only thing the wedding is missing is Niccolò. Ildio can't help but be excited for this. A moment that he never thought he would ever experience in his life. Or even want to experience. Yet, here he is, wanting to marry Niccolò, wanting to spend as much time with him as he possibly can. It could be the romantic movies that Hyde would make Ildio watch when those movies were all the rage. Ildio can't wait to see Nicco walk down the aisle, to see his beautiful face. It's almost comical how much Ildio has changed, gone is the man who only wanted food and blood. Well, he still needs both of them, those things just aren't the only things he thinks about now.

A quiet song starts to play in the background, a song that Ildio knows very well from long drives together with Niccolò. La storia infinita. If the couple were to have a song, this would be it. The song is slower than usual, the lyrics accompanied by a soft piano.

Then… There he is. The man that Ildio is helplessly in love with. Niccolò Carpe Diem. He always looks beautiful but today… Today he looks ethereal. It's ironic because Nicco always calls Ildio his God but here, Nicco is the one who looks like an Adonis. He's wearing a pure white suit, fitting him perfectly in all the right places, the cuffs of his coat and pants are a delicate lace. Nicco's long, beautiful hair is placed in a low bun. A sheer, delicate lace veil covers Niccolò's face. The last detail, the thing that makes him look even more stunning is a dark green rose in his suit pocket. Ildio has no words; their song playing quietly in the background, Niccolò looking like a God walking down the aisle. Ildio can't help the tears starting to roll down his face. He can't name a time that he's ever cried happy tears, or cried ever.

Niccolò continues walking up the aisle, the beautiful song picks up in sound, right as Nicco reaches the altar. He can't believe it. This is the day he's getting married. Getting married to Ildio of all people. It's not that Nicco didn't think he would ever fall in love. The thing is, he never thought anyone would love him back. Niccolò never thought that someone would care enough about him emotionally or romantically. Yet, here he is, getting married to the man he is hopelessly in love with. Nicco knows that he won't live forever, it's a horrible thing to think about, that one day, he'll die and leave Ildio behind.

The preacher starts speaking, reading from a holy book; going silent for each of them to recite their vows.

"I, Niccolò Carpe Diem, take thee, World End, Ildio, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till…"

Niccolò goes silent for a moment, thinking about this word. 'Till death do us part.' Nicco isn't sure he wants to say that, he feels like it would be disrespectful to Ildio because death will do them part… Except Nicco is the only one who'll die.

Ildio grabs one of Niccolò's hands, rubbing the inside of his palm, as if telling Nicco it's okay. At this point, tears are running down both of their faces, tears of extreme joy, but tears nonetheless. They aren't the only ones either. Almost everyone in the ceremony is reduced to tears.

"-Till death do us part. According to my beliefs, I hereby pledge to you my eternal love."

Ildio inhales, he can't believe he's hearing these words. These words that he's thought about hearing from Niccolò's mouth many times. Actually hearing them is an entirely different thing. He didn't expect a slight crack at some of the words, Nicco shakily inhaling from tears. Nor did Ildio expect Nicco to stop in the middle of the vows, as if asking to continue with the last few verses.

"I, World End, Ildio, take you, Niccolò Carpe Diem, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for rich and for poor, in sickness and health, to love and cherish until… Until death do us part. I pledge to you all my love."

Ildio turns red after finishing his vows. He missed a few things, he tried to memorize the vows but he couldn't help getting lost looking at Niccolò. The lines about death taste sour in his mouth. He wants to just forget about the fact that he's a Servamp. That one day he'll outlive his precious Nicco. For now, all Ildio can do is hope to ignore it.

"Is there anyone who wishes to object to this holy, wonderful matrimony?"

Silence. Nicco had turned his head for just a moment to see if anyone was going to say anything, he turns back to Ildio, smiling. Ildio grabs the ring that he picked out, picking up Niccolò's hand-

BOOM!

It's as if time starts to slow. Ildio looks at Nicco, seeing a large splotch of red starting to bloom against his shoulder. Niccolò stumbles, catching himself before he can fall or before Ildio can catch him. The blood quickly travels to cover almost all of Nicco's front suit.

A loud shrill scream echoes throughout the lot, a scream from Nicco's sister.

Ildio sees red. Not red from blood. No, red hot rage. So furious that he can't see anything but red. Following the smell of the gunpowder, he runs to the shooter. It all goes red.

Niccolò presses an unsteady hand against the gunshot wound, a shot from a revolver. He knows he won't die from a shot like this, he's had much worse injuries. His waistcoat is stark red, a horrifying contrast against the white. Nicco looks around, desperately hoping that everyone is okay. He meets eyes with his sister, who is racing over to him.

"Oh Mio Dio Niccolò?! Stai bene!?"

"Sto bene, sorella…"

Niccolò speaks Italian in a shaky voice. He's shocked, not going into shock, but shocked that he would be shot on his damn wedding day. Niccolò's sister grabs his hands, looking terrified.

"I'm okay… Just shaken up."

"Sh-shaken up!? You've been shot, Nicco!"

Niccolò looks down, realizing the blood is traveling to his pants as it's completely covering his shirt. Some of his blood paints his sister's dress, staining a large portion of the bottom white tulle red.

Loud, vicious moist sounds fill the air. Terror grips Niccolò, he turns to look where the sound is, terrified that something may have just happened to his beloved Ildio-

Jesus…

Ildio is panting, whole body heaving in quick breaths. Blood is everywhere. Covering his mouth, bits and pieces in his hair, his entire outfit is entirely deep crimson. Beneath his feet is a body, or… the small remains of a body. All that's left is an open chest, organs strewed throughout the entire yard. Deep red mush where the head is supposed to be, legs and arms gone, thrown in multiple different directions. A large pool of blood is beneath Ildio, obviously not his, but the shooter. A large gun, the one that shot Nicco, lays a few feet away. Niccolò feels sick, bile rising in his throat at the sight. He's seen Ildio's rages. He thought he had seen the worst. This… This is the most violent thing Nicco has ever seen. He turns his head to retch, moving over not to get any of his morning breakfast on any of the guests who haven't run for the hills. Which none of them have.

Niccolò walks over to Ildio, trying very hard to ignore the squelching of his shoes in blood.

"...Il?"

The red slowly fades back to color, Ildio coming back to his senses. He looks around, taking in the gory scene beneath him. He takes a few steps back, eyes widening. He's done this before, he's let his fury take hold of him. However, this is the worst that Ildio has ever been. Ildio turns around, catching Niccolò just in time before his body hits the ground.

"Ti ho usata come una risposta. Ma eri milioni di domande."

(Just to not confuse anyone, the last line is the last verse from their wedding song^^)

#gluttony pair #servamp #fanfiction #fanfic #servamp ildio #not beta read #servamp niccolo #niccolo carpediem #ilnico #minor lawlicht #tw gore #marriage #this shit is so soft #very cheesy #extremely soft #for the most part #super romantic wedding #servamp of gluttony

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floggingink · 3 years

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OH HERE WE GO LADIES IT’S RIVERDALE, CHAPTER EIGHTY: “Purgatorio”

I’m tuning in to be VERY entertained on the grounds that I missed almost the entirety of S4 and will not understand anything

we open with an incredible analogue comparing the football team to the Army, as men do construct rituals: football players get blown into the sky, etc., in a heartrending mash-up of Archie’s innocence + the American ideal/expectations/pipeline of masculinity

Archie Company is decked out appropriately to storm Hürtgen Forest

that art direction trope where a character’s hearing goes EEEEEEEEEEEEEE after an explosion……...delightful

the Vixens and friends cheering him on from the sidelines as if Archie can only process his unprocessable present through the lens of his past………...hits the spot

distressingly wood-based rifles for our purposes

Archie > Dawson: I don’t mind telling you I felt emotion upon Archie hoisting his war buddy over his shoulders to that quadruple-toned “Chivalric Archie Using His Strength for Good” tune, like when he broke his whole hand busting Cheryl out of Sweetwater River

WHEN HE SAW HIRAM LODGE, I’M TELLING YOU!

Hiram’s dragon-scale gloves? absolutely savory; he would

“Yonkers” is one of those New York place names I don’t totally buy is real (Poughkeepsie is another)

the sepia-toned light in this hospital room rings true judging by all the Captain America fanfiction I’ve read; I also like the mint-colored hand towels draped on Archie’s bedframe bought, one assumes, using the Department of Defense’s Kohl’s Cash

Archie made Sergeant, which is the best ranking for a fictional character: important enough that they can be a leader, get into trouble; low-profile enough that you don’t have to write them in the room making terrible decisions; probably won’t die immediately, as a Captain or Private might be

Fifth period is AP English: Archie reads A Farewell to Arms to Corporal Jackson, a WWI novel by Hemingway that Jug definitely turned him onto

Christ, Archie looks good in that on-leave jacket thing

I like Jackson’s subtle graph paper-print hospital gown

Gay?!: was Jackson in love with Archie? is he gonna bus to Riverdale once he’s off his pain meds? RAS, is that you in there?

God you know I love that haunted-ass Exorcist wooden bench bus light lighting

how long has the WW been relocated under Pop’s??? I do NOT know what happened to La Bonne Nuit

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Fangs’ hair? his Tony Stark glasses? the girls’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” Burmese pythons? Toni’s headdress and immaculate glossed lip?

Sixth period is Intro to Film: the only part of From Dusk till Dawn I’ve seen is Salma Hayek putting her toe in Quentin Tarantino’s mouth but judging from that I figure I’d like the rest

The female gaze: Jesus Sweet Pea still looks good

Toni’s stage is flanked by twin pillars of melting candles and I would like someone to track those down for my bathroom

if they lay one hand on Pop Tate…

Betty appears to be, on her own, running the FBI training course. Betty is such a freak

Betty’s FBI-appointed psychologist is “Dr. Starling,” wears a great yellow blouse; Betty eats what appears to be a mini-sized Milky Way

her blond FBI trainer-boyfriend (uh) Glen appears to be an unholy fusion of Jimmi Simpson and that one actor with brown hair and really sharp light eyes whose acting credits I can’t think of right now, you know who I’m talking about (not the guy from Vampire Diaries)

I quite like her patterned blouse and I hate his yellow (gold?!) and blue tie

Please protect Betty: obviously we stan the Silence of the Lambs shit even as it remains infuriating Bryan Fuller couldn’t get his hands in it

Betty’s cat’s crying was so disturbingly baby-like that I had to leave the room once I realized it was in fact a cat

I’ve watched the Elisa Lam tape too many times in recent hours to handle this hallway shot

REALLY GROSS LICKING NOISES

the Trash Bag Killer coming at her was scary :(

Betty’s lovely blue knit cardi with the puffed sleeves!

50 Shades of Betty: clearing her throat before the doctor quite finishes her sentence—Lili Reinhart continues to be great at conveying “slightly perturbing subterranean tension”

was Charles a serial killer too??? oh damn!

Betty has been successfully holding off giving Glen a key to her place until now, an era that must come to a close

fellas, “Do I at least get a kiss?” is a bad move

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s new digs: exposed brick, bougiely avant-garde chandelier; possibly an elevator door right there behind the dude?

Veronica has married Hiram, to no one’s surprise

Chadwick looks like Jimmi Simpson and brunet Evan Peters plus a jaw

Veronica’s single-puffled-sleeved gown…..madamn (she has absolutely been taking secret birth control pills)

Summer + Blair = Veronica: of course Veronica would be great at Howard Ratner’s job; I MUST know what “specialty showcase haute couture offense” Vinnie has committed

T-Dubbs’ green jacket

Veronica pretended she was working at like, a department store? but she MISSED the EDGE post-day-trading

their apartment is so expensive that their bedroom is totally exposed

oh my god, Hermione

Best costume bit: please get me these satiny green high-waisted slacks?! and ugh her blouse has shoulder tassels……..she’s flourishing

“That’s threatening to an alpha like Chad.”

yes, they have a private elevator. fine.

Glen and Chad get their ties from the same Men’s Warehouse

“When that helicopter went down on the way to Martha’s Vineyard…”

you know kissing is 4-real when one person cups their hand to the back of the other person’s neck all close

I don’t understand the drop of the Glamergé egg but I appreciate that there is one and that Veronica is like, get this the fuck out of my house

Veronica’s shiny cropped tweed two-piece, Yvonne’s weird feathery coat that matches her bf’s shirt (you know she’s supposed to be “too much” because she’s got big hoop earrings)

God, Jughead is next and I’m not gonna be able to handle it

OH GOD IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT

Alphabet City?! the piano?? the fucking East Coast Beat typewriter shit—the day robe? I’m—READING CLUBMASTERS? FORSYTHE???

OH GOD HE’S DATING ANOTHER WRITER (she has nice pants)

Jughead eats: “that place you like” is a HOT DOG STAND in the middle of SOME GRASS

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead wears high-ankle light blue jeans, grey socks, and spectators that blend to create the illusion of wading boots. I’m going to commit a crime

Jughead doubts it: “So did Kerouac. And Hemingway. And Fitzgerald.”

fuck yes I love Floundering Jughead, and his Pushy Agent who pronounces “career” like “Korea,” and the continuing tradition of Jughead getting kicked out of his house

I like Literary Grifter’s sweater

the Brat Pack, and most of the Rat Pack for that matter, were actors, but I assume RAS couldn’t resist the rhyme

I was 100% afraid we were about to learn Cora was an uncomfortably-young undergrad

the musical cue as she reaches into her bag is absolutely as if she’s taking out a gun, and it might as well be! it’s the scariest thing in NYC: an unpublished manuscript

showrunners doing a classic I Love Lucy job partially concealing Vanessa Morgan’s pregnancy via medium close-ups, draping black clothes

Cheryl slowly turning to ask if doesn’t she look okay 10/10 icon

Cheryl’s pins: she has either a tiny spider or maybe a tick

Cheryl’s sheaths: the lacy red thing, amazing

why is Cheryl’s left hand gloved?

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: Cheryl’s going to forge a Rembrandt, which unfortunately means she’s my favorite person on the planet (she does not look happy about doing this)

btw is Nana Rose an Immortal?

please tell me about Toni’s eyelashes

EXTREMELY HAUNTED DOLL?!

“Damn good coffee”: Archie’s earnest “Where are people gonna sit for the bus?” slayed me

fuck YEAH Ghoulies party house! terrible music but really good skull spray paint art

Jug looks LOW lol

Veronica’s blouse + buttons, impeccable

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Tabitha/Squeaky

the hellscape semi’s red backlighting and its skeleton’s red eyes

I like Linette’s glossy bomber!

the trucker who’s about to kill her can’t also be the Trash Bag Killer….truckers have to stick to too much of a schedule….but he could be Betty’s meandering serial

I loved this episode

NEXT WEEK: Archie brings the FBI down on some people paying their rent :(

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

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swiftgronmasterpost · 4 years

Text

Glee Live Tour Part 4 - The ShirtGate Essay Dianna published to the felldowntherabbithole Tumblr

Inserting a cut because this thing is long

or skip Dianna’s gay panic and click here to keep reading the masterpost!

June 2, 2000

Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives. - C.S. Lewis

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. - Lao Tzu

Fortune and love favor the brave. - Ovid

AND remember that sometimes….

People need loving the most when they deserve it the least. - John Harrigan

To thine own heart be true. Many thanks for your time, your love, and the gift you’ve given me.

Sincerely,

Dianna Elise Agron

Click here to keep reading!

#shirtgate #essay #2011

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thewatsonbeekeepers · 3 years

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Chapter 12: Three Men in a Boat [TFP 2/3]

[This was completely missing from my tumblr, via every search function and everything! So I’ve reuploaded - thanks anon for letting me know!!]

This section of the meta is going to deal with the events at Sherrinford – I’ve broken TFP up into three sections to try and get the most out of it. This isn’t just a read through like the first part of the meta, it has a specific structure, much like Eurus’s trials for the boys, so it’s really important to take this bit in one chapter. My hypothesis is thus – that each episode of s4 has been a different obstacle to be broken through in Sherlock’s mind, and that each of them is represented by one of the different Sherrinford tasks. It’s essentially an illumination of Sherlock’s progress through his mind – but it’s set up by Eurus, who is Sherlock’s mental barrier, so these are going to represent Sherlock’s darkest fears about each of the obstacles. Ready? Let’s go.

We take up the episode at the pirate hijacking, which is quite BAMF, but also illuminates a couple of things that we should bear in mind going into this episode. The first is that the transition from a blown up Baker Street to Sherlock and John hijacking a boat without a scratch on them is absolutely bizarre and leaves SO many questions – it’s dream-jumping of the most obvious kind. The second is that water has played a long role as a metaphor through the show, particularly in the EMP sequence, and it’s climaxing now – we are in the deepest waters of Sherlock’s mind.

Mycroft and John working together in the disguise sequence is metaphorically lovely – in the Oscar Wilde scene of the last part we saw Sherlock’s brain and heart finally coming together, and here for the first time they’re working together to give Sherlock the ability to go and confront Eurus. This is what makes Mycroft’s line so powerful. He says:

Say thank you to Doctor Watson. […] He talked me out of Lady Bracknell – this could have been very different.

Comic throwaway? Maybe. But given what we know about Lady Bracknell from the first part, this also has a more powerful meaning – heart!John finally stopped brain!Mycroft from being an obstructive force in Sherlock’s psyche, and they started working together instead to save him. This could have been very different is far more loaded than it sounds. All this whilst creating an image of Mark Gatiss as a Victorian aunt – wonderful.

When we first meet Eurus proper, her similarity to Sherlock is striking. She plays the violin – this isn’t a Holmes thing, because Mycroft doesn’t – it’s Sherlock’s motif throughout. Her hair is like a feminine Sherlock, her pallor and cheekbones match Cumberbatch. For reference, this is a picture of Sian Brooke and Benedict Cumberbatch together in real life.

I’ve done a section on why I think Eurus is the most repressed part of Sherlock’s psyche, and his traumatic barrier to love and life – I sometimes glibly refer to this as gay trauma, but that’s its essence. The similarity between Brooke and Cumberbatch in this scene is really compelling, looking the same but lit and dressed in opposite colours. Similarity and difference both highlighted. Even nicer, the white of Sherlock’s shirt is the same notable brightness as Eurus’s uniform, but it’s hidden under his jacket – a visual metaphor for her being hidden inside him.

Eurus gives Sherlock a Stradivarius as a gift. This should set alarm bells ringing for anybody who has seen TPLoSH. If you haven’t seen The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, please do so immediately because my God you are missing out, but TLDR – a Russian ballerina offers Holmes a Stradivarius to have sex with her so she can have a brainy child, and he declines because he’s gay. (This is not just my interpretation, this is genuinely what happens, just to be clear.) Eurus giving Sherlock a Stradivarius is a deliberate callback to the film which Mofftiss cite as their biggest inspiration; just like the ballerina tempted Holmes to feign heterosexuality, so does Eurus – and both make clear that it’s not without its rewards, which is unfortunately true for real life as well. This moment in Sherlock’s psyche also recalls the desperate unrequitedness of Holmes’s love for Watson in TPLoSH, a reference to our Sherlock’s deepest fear at the moment – he has realised his importance but not John’s romantic/sexual love for him, as we’ll see. So here, trauma!Eurus isn’t just referencing closetedness, but is actively drawing on a history of character repression with which to torment Sherlock – metafictionality at its finest.

The Stradivarius is specifically associated with closetedness, but violins more generally in the show are used to show expressions of love that can’t be voiced out loud – think of John and Mary’s wedding, or the desperate bowing of ASiB. So Eurus, gay trauma that she is, telling Sherlock that she taught him to play is a moment of distinct pain – she is the reason he can’t speak his love aloud, but instead has to speak in signs.

When Sherlock plays ‘him’, rather than Bach, to Eurus (he has a big Bach thing with Moriarty in s2, take from that what you will because I don’t know!), he’s playing Irene Adler’s theme. As a fandom, we’ve generally agreed on associating Irene’s theme with sexual love, which ties in nicely with Eurus’s question – has Sherlock had sex? It’s unanswered. At the end of ASiB, Irene calls Sherlock the virgin, suggesting that he hasn’t.

My favourite moment in s4 without a doubt is Jim dancing to I Want To Break Free. I know it’s the most boring thing to say, but my two greatest loves are Andrew Scott and Freddie Mercury, so it was like Christmas. Here it is also Christmas, but there are two possible timelines. I hypothesise that this refers to Christmas 2010, but it’s absolutely conceivable that it could be Christmas 2009. If we acknowledge that Sherlock is in a coma in 2014, then five years ago is Christmas 2009; however, given that we’ve jumped to 2015 in dream time, I’m going to make the guess that Jim’s visit to Sherrinford is supposed to take place in 2010. This ties up with the idea that this is when Moriarty first started taking an interest in Sherlock, who had never heard of him before ASiP, particularly as this is all in the EMP.

I firmly believe that Jim represents the fear that John is in danger – I highlight this in the chapter on HLV, where you’ll recall we first encounter Jim in the EMP and he sends Sherlock on his journey through the EMP with the words John Watson is definitely in danger – a pretty big sign. Even without this, though, his biggest threat to Sherlock has always been hurting John, whether in TRF or with the idea of burning the heart out of him with Semtex. It’s not unreasonable then to assume that MP!Jim first getting inside Sherlock’s subconscious to represent this fear happens in 2010, when he first meets John. He slips in and stays there, and he melds with Eurus. We see this in the powerful visual of the two of them dancing in front of the glass as Jim’s image slowly becomes Eurus’s reflection – the fear of John dying embeds itself into the gay trauma that Sherlock has stored up, even without him realising it. This ties in nicely with the choice of I Want to Break Free, which is famous for its use of drag in the music video – Jim melding into Eurus is the dark side of queer genderbending that we hate to see. It’s also a pretty fitting song name for an intensifying of repressed gay trauma, even without the association with queer king Mercury.

[A side note to all of this – there were wonderful TEH metas about trains in tunnels being sexual, which isn’t just a tjlc thing but is a well-established idea in cinema – Moriarty’s consistent train noises here seem like a horrifyingly inverted version of that sexual longing.]

Task 1 – The Six Thatchers

The governor is set up as a mirror for John in this task, which provides some helpful context for the episode as a whole. Heart!John makes this comparison himself, by drawing out the similarity between the situation with the governor’s wife and his with Mary, though in this case the governor does kill himself because of his wife – or so it seems. The suicidal instinct matches with everything we’ve learned about John in s4, but I want to hypothesise, perhaps tenuously, that he’s more connected with Eurus than we might think. We know that Eurus has had control of the governor for quite some time, and one of the things we hear her saying to the governor in the background of the interrogations is that he shouldn’t trust his wife. This is an odd thing to pepper into the background when he’s about to commit suicide for her, and perhaps suggests that he’s more of Eurus’s pawn than he lets on, though I grant this may be spurious.

The idea that he distrusts his wife because of Eurus is important, however, because we’ve already seen John engage with Eurus in various forms, but this seems like an extension of E; Eurus, aka Sherlock’s hidden self, has been making John doubt Mary, even before she shoots Sherlock. John cannot know she’s a spy at this point, so it’s unlikely he’s doubting her goodwill; he’s simply doubting her.

Before we look at how the actual task impacts the governor and how that illustrates what’s really going on in TST, it’s worth pointing out that it is the governor’s engagement with Eurus which prompts the entire shutdown of Sherrinford and forces Sherlock (with brain!Mycroft and heart!John ever at his side, of course) to engage once and for all with Eurus. This points to everything that s4 has been telling us – that Sherlock’s understanding of the relationship between him and John, including his power to save him (we’re going to see the governor play the foil here) is what sends his brain into stay-alive-overdrive. Sherrinford is the peak of this.

Summary of the task, for those who hate TFP: Sherlock is given a gun and told he can pick either John or Mycroft to kill the governor, otherwise the governor’s wife will be killed by Eurus. As I’ve written about in its chapters, TST is about Sherlock trying to get to the bottom of Mary and why she tried to kill him – and, of course, the impact this will have on John. In brief, by displacing the shot onto Mary in his mind, he’s discounting his own importance and instead thinking about what it will mean for John to lose Mary. His greatest fear is that losing Mary will break John, and it isn’t until the end of TLD that he recognises that the return of John’s suicidal ideation isn’t over Mary, but over him. TFP presents the horror version, the version of TST that Sherlock’s trauma wants him to believe but which he has to overcome. In this case, Mycroft and John resolve to keep the governor alive in their passivity, but that passivity – Sherlock’s coma – is not enough to keep the governor from killing himself over Mary. This is the most feared outcome from Mary’s death that Sherlock can think of – his fear of losing John combined with John’s love of Mary, which in TST Sherlock is still taking as read.

Double naming in this show should never be neglected, and in this case we learn shortly before the governor dies that his name is David. Again, the dramatic manner in which we learn this (on the moment of execution) draws our attention to it – we know another David in this show.

Yup – Mary's ex who’s still in love with her from TSoT. So even though Sherlock is experiencing the panic of John killing himself for loss of Mary, his subconscious is still pointing out to him that that’s not what’s happening here. This mirror version of John that he has set up, who is broken by the loss of Mary as Sherlock fears in TST, is actually the other man in Mary’s life – even with Eurus forcing the worst possible scenario onto him, this still can’t quite fit John’s character. And so we move onto the second task.

Task 2 – The Lying Detective

This section of the Sherrinford saga is the three Garridebs, the closest thing that the fandom has ever got to a collective trauma. I do think, however, that it’s fully reclaimable for tjlc and means the same as we always wanted it to; I also think that it’s possibly the most gutting part of Eurus’s metatfictional power play.

If you haven’t read The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, it’s quite short and the most johnlocky of the Holmes canon, so I’d thoroughly recommend. For the purposes of mapping bbc!verse onto acd!verse, however, here’s the incredibly short version. A man called Evans wants to burgle Nathan Garrideb, so he calls himself John Garrideb and writes an advertisement from a man called Alexander Hamilton Garrideb (make of that what you will, hamilstans) declaring that he wants to bequeath his fortune to three Garridebs. “John” gets someone to pretend to be a Howard Garrideb to get Nathan out of the house to meet him – he comes to burgle the house but Holmes and Watson are lying in wait. He shoots Watson, and Holmes thinks Watson is seriously injured and so we have this wonderful section:

“You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say you are not hurt!”

It was worth a wound–it was worth many wounds–to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

“It’s nothing, Holmes. It’s a mere scratch.”

He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.

“You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?”

Mofftiss have referenced this moment as being the greatest in the Holmes canon for them, the moment when we see the depth of Holmes’s affection for Watson, and so it seems odd to waste it on such a tiny moment in TFP. Many fans, myself included, were really upset to see Eurus drop all three Garridebs into the sea, the implication being that tjlc would never be real, and it was that moment that caused many (including me) to walk away. I came back, obviously, but I completely understand why you wouldn’t. However, I want to map one Garridebs story onto the other to show how they might match up.

The Garridebs that Eurus presents us with are not the three Garridebs from the story. In the story, there are three physically present Garridebs – Nathan, John and Howard – although admittedly only Nathan is an actual Garrideb. Alexander was completely invented by John and existed only in a newspaper advertisement. Evans, alias John Garrideb, is the criminal in the Garridebs story; Alexander is an invention.

So – what happens if we substitute John for Alex in bbc!verse, as in canon they are the same person? This is interesting, because double-naming means that John becomes the killer. Whilst it’s true that John Garrideb is known as Killer Evans for his murder of a counterfeiter back in America, in canon he is done for attempted murder – of John Watson, of course. Here we have a situation where a John is set up killing John. This is exacerbated by the victim in bbc!verse being called Evans; Roger Prescott, the counterfeiter, would have been a much more canonical nod to the books, so we can assume that the choice of Evans is therefore significant. It should be noted that Evans and John/Alex Garrideb are the same person in acd!canon - so killing Evans is a representation of suicide. But, in case we weren’t there yet, the reason that Evans took the name ‘John’ is acd!canon is very likely to be because Evan is Welsh for John – so whatever way you look at this situation, you have Sherlock deducing John killing John.

This is, of course, exactly what Sherlock deduces at the end of TLD, far too slow, when we see Eurus shoot John in an exact mirror of the shot from TST – I explained in a previous chapter why this means that John is suicidal without Sherlock. However, much like the passivity of Sherlock, John and Mycroft in the first task, here we see that Sherlock’s act of deduction is good, but can’t actually save anyone; Eurus kills off our Garridebs moment as Sherlock is left to watch, and it’s notable that heart!John is the most distressed about this. Remember, in the first task Eurus left Sherlock with an image of a John who was suicidally devoted to Mary, and although the Garridebs moment is one which metafictionally highlights the relationship between Sherlock and John, she’s still presenting him with a Garridebs moment in which he is fundamentally unable to save John. This is a direct result of the Redbeard trauma that Sherlock has experienced – helplessness is key to that, and this is what Eurus has come to represent in his psyche. But – Eurus isn’t real, Eurus is testing Sherlock, trauma trying to bring him down, and Sherlock’s job in TFP is to break through the walls that his consciousness has set up for him.

The power in Sherlock saying I condemn Alex Garrideb is heartbreaking, then, because it is Sherlock recognising that he is the reason that John is going to die. Eurus is there to make him confront that reality, which she explicitly makes him do. We get the split-second moment where he thinks he’s saved Alex, and then he’s plunged into the sea – but remember, this is Eurus taunting Sherlock, presenting him with worst-possible-scenarios. TFP is set up as a game for a reason – it is a series of hypotheses cast in Sherlock’s mind by his trauma that he has to break through one by one. Remember, although she’s ostensibly trying to hurt Sherlock, Eurus’s ‘extra’ murders in the first two tasks are aimed at hurting John, which wouldn’t make sense if he weren’t the mp version of Sherlock’s heart.

Task 3 – The Final Problem

Pretty much straight after this episode aired, people were pointing out that Molly is a clear John mirror and that pretty much all of the deductions Sherlock makes here could be about John. Again, we’re seeing Sherlock’s emotions being resolved in a heterosexual context – the presence of Eurus means that he’s unable to process them in their real, queer form. However, if we take Molly to be a stand-in for John in this scene, it may tell us what TFP is about – and the scenario that Eurus presents will be the worst one, the thing that is causing Sherlock the most pain.

TLD/the previous task have shown us that John is in imminent danger, so the transition to Molly Hooper’s flat being rigged with bombs is not a difficult one; we must assume this to be the suicidal ideation that we’ve just deduced. The time limit suggests that Sherlock is running out of time to save him (fucking right he fell into a coma SIX YEARS AGO). Putting Molly in a bad mood isn’t really necessary for this scene – they make her seem a lot more depressed than she would necessarily need to be, and they emphasise her aloneness and her ability to push people away, which isn’t something we know Molly to do. These traits are all much more important in the context of a suicidal John – they paint a much clearer picture of someone who is depressed and alone than we really need for this scene, where it’s not relevant to the surface plot.

Sherlock and the audience believe he has won this task, but of course he hasn’t - there were never any explosives rigged up in Molly’s flat, and it was a ruse to destroy his relationship with Molly. This is what he fears then – what if he’s wrong? What if coming back to life because he loves John won’t save him – it will destroy him and their relationship? The problem to be wrestled with is how to save John – according to the symmetry of these tasks, that is the final problem. We know that the scenario Eurus has presented isn’t real, but Sherlock doesn’t; he is being held up by his inability to cope with interpersonal relationships, and to get to the bottom of that we’re going to need to understand what he’s been repressing – part 3 of this meta.

There’s a wonderful shot just as Sherlock is destroying Molly’s coffin which zooms up and out through a ceiling window, all the way above Sherrinford, as though to emphasise not how remote Sherrinford is but just how deep inside it Sherlock is. Given what we know about the height metaphor as well as the water metaphor, this shot is a pretty clear way of telling us – this is as deep inside Sherlock’s mind as we go, this is the nub. But Sherlock smashing up the coffin has another powerful connotation – he's refusing death. In terms of metaphor, he’s refusing John’s death – there will be no small coffin, because he will not let it happen – but the visual of him smashing the coffin also suggests that he is rejecting his own death. The two are, of course, inextricably linked. Our boys’ lives are tied together.

Epilogue: The Hunger Games

I can’t watch this without thinking of The Hunger Games, I just can’t! But regardless of how much Sherlock seems like Katniss in this section, let’s press on. I don’t count this as one of the typical tasks, because this isn’t Eurus presenting a ‘haha I tricked you scenario’ - far from it. This is Sherlock’s way into unlocking his repression. The key takeaway from this scene, as we’ll see is that trauma has hurt Sherlock, and it’s going to try pretty hard here to mutilate him – but it can’t kill him.

We get a great line from Sherlock at the beginning of this, where he tells John that the way Eurus is treating him isn’t torture, it’s vivisection. Because it’s an experiment? Perhaps. But the more logical way to phrase this would be that it isn’t vivisection, it’s torture. Torture is much more emotionally charged than vivisection as a phrase – from a writer’s perspective, this phrasing is strange because it seems to negate rather than intensify the pain our characters are undergoing. Why, then, would vivisection be more important than torture? Well, put simply, vivisection is the act of cutting someone open and seeing what’s inside – and that’s what we’re doing. This isn’t just an analogy for experimenting on people, it’s an analogy for going literally inside somebody. In EMP world, then, these words are well chosen.

Sherlock is offered the choice – John or Mycroft? Heart or brain? We might initially think that this is Eurus pressuring Sherlock into death, but that’s not the case at all – we know from the early series that Sherlock has survived before (although very unhappily) with just one of these two dominating the other. It has taken his EMP journey to unite them into a functioning entity, and Eurus is bent on destroying that, mutilating either his emotional capacity or his reasoning, the two parts that make him human. This is a good sign, as well, that trauma has been acting on Sherlock through the first three series, when his psyche was dominated by brain!Mycroft - Eurus is keen to revert to that state, when trauma had control. It is touching, then, that brain!Mycroft is willing to relinquish that control and leave Sherlock with his heart, perhaps because this new unity allows him to recognise how damaged the Sherlock he created was. We should also note that this diminishing of Sherlock’s heart is compared to his Lady Bracknell, which we know to be his repression of all Sherlock’s romantic/sexual impulses – except this time it’s less convincing, because his brain doesn’t believe it anymore. What is also devastating is heart!John’s lack of self-esteem or knowledge, the sense that he isn’t useful to Sherlock, which of course will be proven wrong.

[if anyone has thoughts on the white rectangle on the floor, do let me know. It’s bugging me!]

Mycroft says that he acknowledges there is a heart somewhere inside of him – again, this is emotionally powerful in the context of the brain/heart wrangling that we’ve seen inside the EMP. Just as Sherlock’s psyche has tried to compartmentalise them all this time and they’re finally working together, now there’s an acknowledgement that the compartmentalisation into personae is maybe inaccurate as well – brain!Mycroft’s pretence to be emotionally detached is not in fact correct, as we’ve been suspecting for a long time.

Brain!Mycroft also states that it’s his fault that this has all happened because he let Eurus converse with Jim. If you spend any time thinking about the Eurus + Jim meeting, like many elements of this show it doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a feasible way this could have been planned, recorded etc in five minutes, and although it’s true that Jim could have come back to shoot the videos under the governor’s supervision, it’s not clear why he’s so important. Unless he takes on the metaphorical significance that we’ve assigned him, letting Jim see Eurus seems pretty unimportant – he is only the garnishing on Eurus’s plan. Instead, Mycroft is at fault for letting John be in danger – not only did Sherlock misdeduce Mary (although we can lay the blame for that at the feet of heart!John - see meta on TST), his reasoning was blinded and so he missed John’s suicidal urges and the danger to his life. Brain!Mycroft holds himself responsible – all of these EMP deductions are way late, comprised of things Sherlock should have noticed when his brain wasn’t letting his heart in.

Five minutes. It took her five minutes to do this to all of us.

The lighting is dramatic, so I can’t properly gauge Ben’s expression at this moment, but his eyes look crinkled in confusion, just like they are at the moments when a sense of unreality starts to set in in TAB. Indeed, these aren’t very appropriate words for when you’re about to kill your brother; it’s like he’s being distracted, like there’s something important that he’s missing. Mofftiss are drawing attention to the sheer impossibility of the situation – and Sherlock’s nearly there. His Katniss Everdeen move, threatening to kill himself, is the recognition that his trauma doesn’t have that power – it can hurt him and deform him by twisting his psyche into unbalance, like it has before and like Eurus is trying to here, but it cannot kill him. We can see that Sherlock has risen above the one-sided dominance that he began the entire show with when Eurus shouts at him that he doesn’t know about Redbeard yet – that’s not going to change his mind today, but it’s a direct throwback to the days when it would have, in ASiP with the cabbie. Character development, folks.

The shot of Sherlock falling backwards into the dark water links to two aspects of the EMP. One is the continued metaphor of water to represent sinking into the depths of his mind. The water is so dark it looks oily – it could be argued that this is the oil that is corrupting the waters of his mind as we finally cut to the repressed memories. I quite like this reading, though I have little other oil imagery to link it to in the show. The other notable point is the slow-motion fall backwards – instead of showing Sherlock, John and Mycroft all falling, we cut to Sherlock falling backwards exactly like he did in HLV when he was shot by Mary. This is a really clear visual callback. Even though we’re going deeper, we’re linking back to the original shooting, back in reality, suggesting that this depth is paradoxically going to lead us back to the start. To go back to the oil imagery, don’t forget that oil floats on water – although it looks like we’re sinking, there’s a real sense that these repressed memories are actually pulling us to the surface of Sherlock’s subconscious, quite unlike the deep zoom out we saw when Sherlock was destroying the coffin.

And that’s it for part 2 of the TFP meta! Part 3/3 will deal with such highlights as John not being able to recognise bones and presumably getting his feet pulled off by chains. Good thing this is just a dream. See you then!

#meta #emp theory #tjlc

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saviorinsilk · 4 years

Text

New Life

Pairing: Cordelia Goode X Female OC

Warning: None

The sun was at the highest point of the day, misty clouds covering it, causing the air to not be as stifling as the day before. That made me happy as I had felt sick from the heat of the summer here in New Orleans, Louisiana. I wasn't used to weather like this and even though I had arrived at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies over two weeks ago, I didn't think I would ever get used to the deathly humidity that made my usually wavy hair a curly, frizzy mess. I had always worn my hair down before, but now I had to get used to a big messy bun sitting on the top of my head. Since that was, unfortunately, the only way it looked presentable. Honestly, though, my new hairstyle was the least of my problems.

Back in Canada, I had managed to live my 20 years of life being an extreme introvert. I had one friend that I kept from high school but I had already moved on from her in the mere 16 days I had been a country away. I had been used to being alone a lot, but that was an unfamiliar concept here at Miss Robichaux's. The only time you were alone was when you showered, but even then there was probably a girl blow drying her hair or fixing her makeup behind the curtain. I had learned pretty quickly to savour the fleeting moments when I was locked up in the bathroom, doing the one thing everyone agreed was not a group event. I Cherished those times. I tried very hard to be invisible but in a house full of witches that wasn't exactly easy. I had managed to avoid most conversations, except one with a girl named Nan, which thankfully had been very pleasant. I sat at the back of my classes and had somehow managed to talk myself out of having to do the introduction that I and a few other new girls had been asked to perform. The real miracle was that I had lucked out with my roommates. I got placed with a girl who only tiptoed into the room late at night once everyone was already in bed and a drama queen who had better things to do then talk to "my weird ass" as she put it. I took a long drag from the small joint between my fingers, the sweet taste of lemony haze filling my lungs. I felt my body relax as I pushed the smoke from my slightly parted lips. It seemed that with every exhale the stress in my mind and the pain in my muscles floated up to the sky as the air was filled with the pungent aroma. Back home I had had a medical marijuana license for my anxiety and it had been hell trying to survive without it in the south. I sat on the lawn in the backyard, studying the huge live oak trees that acted as a tall fence around the perimeter of the property. The freshly cut grass tickled my pale legs through the thin material of a bohemian style dress that Misty, a witch who lived in the house had given me. I had left the beautiful light blue shawl that she had given me as well, on my bed. The clouds provided enough protection from the scorching sun today. "It's beautiful out here." A soft voice spoke. I was dragged out of my thoughts by the feeling of my skin leaving my bones as I let out a loud yelp and my butt literally left the ground. My head snapped around and landed on the source of the noise. Cordelia Goode was standing only a few paces behind me, her head tilted up, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. My heart skipped a beat and I had to fight my jaw from dropping open.

Miss Goode was the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on. Her blond hair shone brightly as the sun broke through a cloud as if her beauty opened up the heavens. She wore a mint green, long-sleeved blouse made out of the breathable fluid material that I adored. Her petite but splendid curves were enhanced by the black loose-fitting pencil skirt that hugged them. I was completely and fully taken aback by her beauty, even though I had seen her many times.

I had hurried out of rooms every chance I got and when I couldn't avoid her, like during her class or morning meeting, I made sure to kept my eyes focused on something else. I accepted the fact that I was gay, but I sure as hell wasn't eager for anyone one else to know, given what happened last time someone did. Yet at this moment I couldn't tear my eyes away. Just looking at her was enough to give me butterflies. Cordelia smiled brightly and her now open, deep chocolate brown eyes settled on my wide pale blue eyes. "A strong sixth sense might not be an ability of yours," Cordelia said with a light chuckle. I'm not sure if it was her voice that brought me back to earth or if it was the loud bang of a hammer that came from a few houses down, but whatever it was suddenly made me aware of the fact that I indeed had a joint between my black slender nails. I quickly snuffed out the sourcing end of it into the grass in front of me and tucked it in my waist, bringing my knees up against my chest. "I'm so sorry Miss Goode! I'll never do it again, I promise. Please don't tell Myrtle." I stammered, my gaze locked on my bare feet that were sticking out from the bottom of my dress. My head spun as I thought of the consciences that were surely in store for me. One of our instructors, an older woman named Myrtle had given us a very serious talk after finding one of the girls drunk on the front porch after a long Friday night. We may have been away from our parents, but us young girls needed to remember that there was never a witch that achieved greatness by goofing around with drugs, over drinking or silly antics. I could still hear the intense tone she spoke in filling my head. Cordelia's eyes scanned me and her face rose into a sweet smile. "There's no need to be sorry Ellie. At least it's natural, unlike the insane amount of hard liquor some people in this city consume. Sometimes we all need a little help relaxing." Cordelia's voice was caring, her smile turning sympathetic. I was shocked and it took me a second to process all of it. All I could manage to do was to nod awkwardly before beginning to push myself off the plush ground. Cordelia's hand came up to stop me. "Sit." She commanded. I immediately obeyed, grabbing the joint in my hand as it slid away when my butt collided with the ground. "I'm on a short break and some fresh air would do me some good as well." She lowered herself next to me, her legs crossed out in front of her. I realized that she too was barefoot and for some reason it made me smile secretly to myself. Cordelia signed as she leans back on her outstretched arms, her head lazily turning towards me. She looked like an angel with the sun shining on her light pale skin. "We missed you at the morning meeting today. I was worried." Cordelia said. She was worried? About me? Those nasty metaphoric butterflies were back and they were frantic. When I just stared at her silently, Cordelia pursed her plump lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she was concentrating on me. I shook my head and averted my eyes down to my fingers, that were busy rolling the joint against my skin. "I'm so sorry. I went for a walk this morning and I got...distracted. I know how important you said it is to be there on time. I messed up. I'll pick up some extra work around the house to make up for it." I offered, my guilty conscience getting the better of me. I tried to be tough but it didn't always go the way I wanted it to when I was confronted. "As much as I appreciate your civility, I'm not angry with you. I was just concerned because you have been very punctual since you got here." She said, worry in her eyes. I was embarrassed. I had made her worry. I may have been antisocial but I never wanted my actions to upset someone else. I had always been very empathetic and I felt ashamed of my actions. "Where did you walk? Around the Garden District?" Cordelia asked. Oh ya, I had walked around the neighbour for sure, I had studied every inch of it. "Ya, and a bit farther. I may have ended up at Staker's" I said sheepishly. Staker's was the small corner store a fair distance away. I could have guessed the reaction that Cordelia would have to this information but I wasn't excepting her discouraging tone to be quite as present as it was. "Elizabeth! That is at least a 20-minute drive away! What time were you up?" She demanded, her sunny disposer absent. God, she used my full name. No one had used that name since I got here. The last person to call me Elizabeth was my mother. "3:00 am," I said quietly as I peeked up at Cordelia's unhappy face. "Ellie you shouldn't be out on the streets at that time of night! It can get dangerous out there in the dark, especially for a witch and a beautiful young lady like yourself." Cordelia explained. I felt my cheeks getting warm and I could only imagine how red they must have been. Had Cordelia just called me beautiful? "I-I know. I just couldn't sleep because it was so hot and I had a real hankering for an iced tea and a crappy corner story donut." I stuttered, praying that my blushing wasn't too noticeable. Cordelia raised her eyebrows and her expression lighten a bit. "You could have asked one of your roommates where the fans were and I'm sure Zoe or one of the other girls with a license would have taken you to fulfil your cravings at lunch if you had asked," Cordelia said. She was so sweet but she didn't know the secrets some of the were hiding. I opened my mouth to argue that I didn't think the other girls liked me that much and that I had felt like I was suffocating in the house last night and had to make an escape before I saw my grave, but I couldn't. There was something about Cordelia that had an effect on me. I would go along with whatever came out of that woman's sweet lips. I'm sure that's how most cult members had felt towards their leaders and it had never done them any good but I was a hopeless romantic. "You're right. No more late night strolls. Promise." I settled with the polite response. After all, she was my Head Mistress AND my Supreme. Cordelia smiled, satisfied. "Good. Us witches need to be careful. Although there have been lots of people that have accepted us since we have gone public, there are still those out there that would like nothing more than to put a knife to your throat and play the violin." She warned, her words painting an image in my head that I would have been fine with never witnessing. It was true though and I had seen first hand how some people just couldn't deal with diversity. It had been a gloomy day when I had been in the Denver Airport, waiting patiently in line at Annie's Pretzels to get a treat for my connecting flight to New Orleans, when some nosy bitch glanced over my shoulder. I had been reading over a letter from Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, excited over the invitation to come to see the school for myself. Suddenly the lady exploded in rage, shouting crude language as well as slipping in the words freak, Satanist along with just screaming WITCH over and over. She must have seen the news. I had stood my ground, not about to lose my place near the front of the line. I wanted my soft warm pretzel and no lunatic was going to take that away from me. Luckily she had been in line with a level-headed person, that dragged her away before I had been angered to the point of showing her just how much of a "freak" I was. People had never been kind to those who were different and the deep south was a perfect example of that. I may have felt like I could take care of myself but Cordelia was right. I hadn't left my whole life behind in another country to be murdered within my first month of freedom. "I've been meaning to talk to you for the last couple days but things just keep getting in the way. Life always gets a bit crazy when we have new arrivals. I would like you to come to my office so we can catch up on how you have been settling in. Also, I'd like to do a quick evaluation of your abilities, due to the distressed state you were in when you arrived. It probably wasn't a fair judgment of your capabilities." Cordelia softly placed her hand over mine, stopping my fidgeting fingers. Her skin was warm and surprising soft like silk. The contact was heavenly and I could have stayed in this moment forever if the universe had allowed it. But the anxiety crept back with the thought of the distressed state I had indeed been in when arriving at the academy. I hadn't thought about it today until now. It had been nice to live in ignorance for the short time. "Do you think you would be able to swing by after dinner tonight? Don't worry about the dishes, one of the other girls will take your shift." Cordelia said, answering my question before I even had a chance to ask it. It was almost as if she could see my thoughts in writing. God, that would be a disaster if it were true. All the innocent I projected would be gone with the brutality of my unholy thoughts. I liked the idea of skipping the chores that we had been giving since last week when the number of girls was too much for the staff and the few maids to clean up after. "Manual Labour builds character" Kyle, the butler had told the whiny girls in the kitchen. "Of course Miss. Goode." I replied, forcing a smile, across my nervous expression. It's not like I minded the thought of being alone with the women of my dreams but at the same time, the idea caused my anxiety-ridden demons to claw there way out of their dark hiding place. "Call me Cordelia, just between the two of us," Cordelia said, patting my hand that she still held tenderly. I couldn't help but smile goofily. "I better get back inside, any moment we are likely to hear Myrtle's voice." Cordelia laughed, squeezing my hand before she pushed her slender body up, gently wiping the loose grass that had stuck to her skirt. Cordelia smiled down at me. "I'll see you at dinner." She said before turning her back. No force could pull my gaze away from her as she gracefully made her way to the back door. I blinked when she disappeared into the house, the door swinging shut with a thud behind her. I couldn't help but smile to myself as the last few minutes replayed in my head. I glanced down at the grass in front of me, my eyes settling on the tarnished patch from where I had put my joint out. I extended my hand, lightly covering it. My eyes fluttered closed and I felt a familiar tingling in my fingers as the sunlight caressed my face. A surreal image of a luscious field of natural grasses lay behind my eyelids. The wind blew the praise plants that I had seen every day for the last 20 years of my life, as I began to feel the grass beneath my skin tickling between my digits. I wiggled my fingers slightly as I continued to study the blades of grass in my mind. After a few moments, I opened my eyes lazily and was pleased to see the once grey and burnt grass had grown taller than the lawn around it, and the colour repaired to the deep shade of green. I giggled and let my body weight pull me back, releasing a deep sigh as my body collided with the ground under me. The sun shone beautifully through the live oaks above. Maybe things would turn around. After all, this was a safe haven and if happiness lived somewhere, it would surely be in a place like this.

#lana writes #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #ahs #american horror story #ahs fanfiction #ahs fanfic #american horror story fanfic

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munofsilver · 3 years

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Stuck In-Between Chapter 5

@gaalee-bingo may be over but this fic isn’t. I know I can still post and let them know. Just no more badges. That’s fine with me. This chapter was for injury. Ao3 link.

Summary: We get to learn more about Gaara and Lee, along with the yokai world a bit. Shukaku is still a tricky tanuki bastard. Trigger warning: Mention of rape.

The two yokai race across the marketplace. Akamaru runs as fast as the wind as he tracks Lee's scent. They passed through the marketplace, the training area, farmland and heading towards the forest where all animal yokai like to live. All tanukis and kitsunes are there with their human spouses if they have one. Even though humans say they don't, tankuis and kitsunes get along very well.

Akamaru stops in front of a house on the edge. Gaara knows this house. He slides off Akamaru's back, and the canine yokai runs off, howling, "My job is done."

Gaara knows he will have to return home with Lee without Kida's help. Lucky for him, Shukaku is a friend and might help. It's hard to tell what that tanuki will do. Moving closer, Gaara knocks on the door. After waiting a few minutes with no answer, he knocks again harder. Still nothing, so Gaara lets himself in.

Lee starts, unable to stop even though he wants to, "My father never fully healed from an injury he received when he encountered a kitsune, seven years ago. We both were hungry and had no money since I couldn't go out to fish or hunt as much anymore. Father's health was getting worse, so I did something I never wanted to."

Lee takes a sip of the sake, not knowing it will make things worse for him. Shukaku smiles, knowing that with each sip, more truth will come out. While enjoying his own sake Shukaku also enjoys Lee's story as he continues.

"Six years ago Princess Ino was on another shopping trip with Hinata, her lady in waiting. When Princess Ino dropped her fan, knowing how much it was worth, I took it and ran. Unfortunately, I was seen and caught."

"By a guard?" Shukaku asked.

Lee only shakes his head, "Princess Ino."

Shukaku laughs, "A guard would have been better."

Lee nods in agreement. If it was a guard, he would have been locked up in prison instead. Thinking back, it might have been better if it wasn't for the fact that he would never have been able to see or help his father while in there. Lee continues when Shukaku "asked" him too.

"She said she will let me have the fan and not go to prison if I agree to be her personal slave. Like an idiot, I took her offer and sold the fan. I bought food and medicine for my father. The next day three guards came and dragged me to the palace. Until I escaped about four days ago."

Shukaku grins that is quite a tale, but he feels there is more. Being a tricky tanuki, he had to find out more. Lee takes another sip, not liking to taste. Each sip tastes differently. Thinking this is something to do with being in the yokai world, sake is different here.

"Can you explain about being Princess Ino's personal slave?" Shukaku leans forward.

Lee looks down at his sake, "Like with her servants, I couldn't look at her face. She made me feed her peeled fruit, rub her feet and shoulders, brush her hair without touching her face; I had to hide from her father. She didn't want him to know I was there. I could only leave her room to visit my father once a week. I couldn't say a thing. I had to sleep on the floor with no covers or pillows."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Shukaku pours himself more sake finishing the bottle.

"Those are the things she made me do during the day. At night she forced me to," tears form in Lee's eyes, "At night, I was forced to pleasure her," he whispered.

Shukaku spits out his sake, "You were that type of slave."

"I don't mean sex. That only happened once when she forced herself on me on my eighteenth birthday," Lee wipes the stray tear from his eye, "Her pleasure was my pain."

Shukaku had enough. He got what he wanted. Now he is going to even things up, "Would you like to know anything about Gaara?"

Lee wipes away his tears and smiles, "I would like to know more about yokais in general. It seems everything I learned about them was wrong."

Shukaku laughs, "I will tell you anything you want to know about Gaara. If you want to know more about yokai, walk around the marketplace."

Lee thinks for a moment before he decides, "How did he become a guardian?"

Shukaku sighs as he leans back, "That is not a happy tale. I'm not sure if Gaara will be happy if I tell you. Then again, I am a tanuki of my word, sometimes. Gaara was forced to be the guardian between the yokai and human world by his father, a real jackass," Shukaku opens his third bottle of sake.

"Gaara's mother was a human that his father loved dearly. Sadly it's hard for a female human to give birth to a yokai child. Most times, yokai that are married to humans will never mate with them or do so with safety measures," Shukaku winks like he was hinting at something.

"Unless it's a female yokai and male human. Then it doesn't matter if they have cubs. When a human bears a yokai child, she will have about a 50-50 chance of not dying during birth. I'm sure you know where I'm going with this."

Lee nods in understanding while he feels bad for Gaara. Lee also lost his parents when he was a baby. Gai adopted Lee when he found Lee in the forest with no shoes or clothes on. He takes a final sip of sake, and Shukaku pours him another cup. Nothing added in the sake this time.

"His father, Rasa, blames Gaara for his mother's death. He knew what could happen if his human wife had his cub. I told him, his mate told him, Chiyo herself even told him many times," Shukaku growls.

Shukaku never got along with Rasa. He thinks Shukaku and him are friends. In reality, Shukaku only likes Gaara and his siblings. He just lets Rasa think what he wants. The tanuki doesn't like talking about Gaara's father, but he does finish the story.

"As punishment for "killing" his mother, Gaara is banned from the yokai world unless he has permission from Rasa. He rarely gets that. He has to guard the in-between, we call it. If a human should enter without permission, Gaara will get in trouble," Shukaku chugs down half the bottle of sake.

Lee looks down at his own cup. Shukaku can see the sadness in his eyes. Shukaku does think Rasa overacted; then again, Rasa always overacts. Shukaku ears twitch, and he sniffs the air. Looking back at the human, he sees guilt on his face.

"Don't worry, Rasa doesn't know you're here. He will never come here. Scared of the forest. Not that he will ever admit it," Shukaku laughs.

That did help Lee feel less guilty. Taking a sip of his sake, Lee noticed it tasted sweeter than the other cup he had. 'Yokai's sake is weird.' He thinks.

"Anything else you would like to know about Gaara?"

"You told him enough already."

Both look to see Gaara standing in the corner of the room, arms folded and deep glare aimed at Shukaku. Shukaku was surprised he didn't smell Gaara, only Kiba. He may change his name in his yokai form but not his scent. Finishing the bottle of sake, Shukaku tosses it away with the other two.

"You're lucky I found him first. You're also stupid for coming here, Gaara. You know what will happen if your father finds out," Shukaku shows Gaara his deep glare.

Gaara ignores the older tanuki; right now, he only cares about Lee. He sees that he was crying, and based on what he heard, Lee says, Gaara can understand. Now some things make more sense to the young tanuki. Why Lee was running away, how he ended up in the forest, why he was wearing a palace guard uniform? Gaara uncrosses his arms and walks to Lee.

"Are you alright?" Gaara looks into Lee's eyes.

"I... I'm fine. How long have you been standing there?" Lee, all of a sudden, found himself feeling embarrassed and shameful.

Gaara wonders if he should tell Lee the truth that he knows or lie and act like he doesn't. He was about to say something when both tanuki's ears raise up and turn like they hear something. Shukaku growls as Gaara runs outside. Lee stands up, wondering what's going on. Should he be worried, hide somewhere, is everything going to be fine? He starts to panic.

Gaara enters and shares a look with Shukaku. Gaara points towards the front door with his head and nods.

"I know what you are thinking, boy. We can get this human out of here without that stupid fox help," Shukaku huffs.

"He's only here to warn me. My father knows about Lee and me being here. He's not stupid, Shukaku," Gaara growls, warning Shukaku.

He only huffs again and crosses his arms, "Then we better get you both out of here fast. Your father hates this forest, but he will come here to get him," he said, pointing his claw at Lee.

Gaara knows what his father would do if he gets Lee, and Gaara will never let anything happen to his human friend. Gaara grabs some leaves from Shukaku's pocket and places one on Lee's head and the other on his own. Gaara closes his eyes, and two female yokais are standing there. Lee can see Gaara now has pure white skin, pale blue lips, dark blue eyes, long silver hair. Wearing a white and silver kimono. Lee has long black hair tied in a bow at the end, with no skin or eyes. Only a skeleton wearing a pink and red kimono.

"Are you sure this will work?" Lee asked.

Gaara looks at Shukaku, "We will need an escort."

Shukaku smiles, "I'm better at transforming than that fox."

With a snap of his claw and a leaf on his own head, Shukaku is now a male human wearing workers' clothes. Perfect for escorting two lovely female yokais around town. It's a common sight in the yokai world. Lee did see it during his short time in the marketplace. He just didn't pay much attention to it.

Everyone is ready, and they head to the marketplace. Once there, Gaara will be able to open the way out and leave without any trouble. On their way, a kitsune runs back into the forest while transforming into Shukaku. He's going to buy them as much time as he can. Gaara will thank him later, knowing he will be at the cave to see if everything worked. They crossed many yokai and humans on the pathway.

Lee wonders why some yokai stay in their human forms in the yokai world. When he noticed that the ones that are doing that are with humans. Maybe their spouse and they stay in human form for them? It seems that all the yokai in their human forms look like regular humans except the eyes. Being half is why Gaara gets a tail, claws, and ears of a tanuki. Lee does think Gaara's ears and tail are cute. They reach the marketplace, and Shukaku stops. The two "ladies" stare at him.

"Stay close young pup. This will be tricky. Human opens this fan and looks down towards it," Shukaku hands Lee a fan.

Lee takes the fan and does as Shukaku says. The fan matches the color of his kimono and sparkles in the sunlight. Shukaku hands a fan to Gaara that's the same as Lee's. He opens it but doesn't look at it like Lee. Instead, he uses it to cover the lower half of his face. They continue onwards. In the marketplace, they slowed their walk. If they move too fast, they will draw unwanted attention. To blend in, they stop at a few stalls. Lee watches everything while keeping his head down at his fan. With his eyes, he sees all.

The trio stops at a stall that seems to have species and herbs. Mostly humans are there with a few yokai. The merchant looks like an ordinary house but with two tails and smoking a pipe. They move to the next one. This one is selling scrolls, some blank, some with writing Lee can't seem to read. Gaara "purchased" a few scrolls; it seemed to be more of a trade. Gaara gave the merchant what looks like a dried burn lizard skin for each scroll. That the female looking human with eight eyes merchant seemed to desperately want. Shukaku stood behind them the whole time they looked at a stall. Looking around to make sure no one is watching or following. They walk past the next few stalls and stop at one selling fabric.

Matsuri is there, and Gaara had to stop Lee from going towards her. She is working right now, and they need to keep blending in. They walk past quickly, leaving Shukaku behind as he drools over some rare sake. Neither one noticed the other wasn't there.

"You can't mask your scent, Gaara," a booming voice calls out close behind, "You might have been able to if Shukaku or that fox was with you."

That's when they both noticed their escort was missing. Gaara turns around and pushes Lee behind him. Now that their cover is blown, the transformation disappears as Gaara prepares to defend Lee. Standing more like floating above them is a tall human with pure black eyes and hair. Wearing a sleeveless grey rode and black pants. His four arms are folded across his chest. A snake-like tail swishes behind him as he lands in front of them.

"Is that your father?" Lee gulps.

Gaara narrows his eyes as he glares, "No, it seems my father sent one of his human controllers instead. Stay behind me."

Lee doesn't move like a statue. The controller unfolds his long slender arms that don't match his body. What should be fingers are only bones until he moves them. Then flesh covers them, grey-colored flesh just like his tail that is very plum. Gaara's own tail grows, as does his claws. Even the ones that are supposed to be Gaara's toes grow. Both yokai begin to growl at each other. Others in the marketplace stop what they are doing and prepare themselves for the fight that's about to start. Yokai's are closing stalls, others are getting their human companions out of the way. Some even take bets. Mothers keep their kids out of danger but let them watch if they want.

The enemy leaps towards Gaara as his claws pierced into the controller's arm. Gaara clubs his attacker in the head with his massive tail. Causing him to crash into the ground, but it didn't stop him. Raising to his feet, the controller's eyes are bright red as he smiles. Showing two sets of fangs. Gaara keeps pushing Lee back out of the way, towards the crowd. If he can get Lee there, then the tricky tanuki can use it to escape. There is more than one way to get to the in-between gate, then the main one.

The enemy seems to know this plan and rushes past Gaara towards Lee. It seems Gaara is faster as he was able to grab Lee and defend them both with his tail. Letting out a hiss, he attacks with the claws on his feet, hitting the other yokai in the shins. The collector falls on his back. Gets up into a sitting position to look at his blood, running down his legs and dripping off Gaara's back claws.

Lee sees blood dripping off of Gaara's tail. He can't let him fight this guy on his own, but what can a human with no magic do against a yokai? By the look of it, a rather strong one. Trying to remember what he saw from the kitsune attack. Gai did fight back and was able to scare it off if only Lee knew how. Now is not the time to get lost in the past; he needs to act now. Without thinking about himself, Lee rushes past Gaara towards the controller, still sitting on the ground. With some dirt in his hand, he blows it into his eyes, making the controller unable to see as he rubs his itchy eye.

It took more than enough time for Gaara to grab Lee with his tail and make a mad dash towards the in-between gate. Trying to trick the controller, Gaara takes a different path through the crowd that is now going back to their own business. Now that the fight is over and bets need to be collected. Gaara doesn't let go of Lee until they reach the other side of the way. Out of breath, Gaara takes the bell out and places it back in the tree branch.

"What the hell was that!?" Gaara roars, "You could have been killed. Controllers are made to hunt down and kill humans."

A look of pure guilt took over Lee's face, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to fight him on your own."

Gaara sighs, and his tail returns to normal size, "I appreciate the thought, but next time try to have an escape plan."

Lee smiles and nods. He stands next to Gaara as the tanuki opens the portal. Lee enters first before Gaara. Once in the cave, Lee turns around and can see through the portal. Gaara's back is towards it, and he seems to be looking at something or someone. Lee sneaks back out and is pushed back in by Gaara being sent flying in the portal. It closes, and Lee helps Gaara onto the still transformed bed.

Lee can see more than Gaara's tail is bleeding. Blood is soaking through his clothes, running down his arms. Lee carefully yet quickly takes off Gaara's haori and unties the yukata. Lee slides it off Gaara's shoulders. The tanuki was hissing in pain the whole time. Soon the portal opens again as Shukaku enters. He runs to Gaara shoving Lee out of the way. A huge wound is on Gaara's chest and some small ones on his shoulders and upper arms.

"Do something to stop the bleeding. I will return," Shukaku hissed and went back through the portal and closed it.

#Rock Lee #Gaara #gaalee #Leegaa #Shukaku #Naruto #Fanfic #naruto fanfic #ino yamanaka #hinata hyuuga #Gai #matsuri

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

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pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually, we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever !

#patb #pinky and the brain #WHEEZE #if this refuses to post ONE MORE TIME #i am going to go FERAL #i have typed this all out THREE TIMES #I HAVE HAD ENOUGH #some explodey boys for y'all on saturday!#i hope.#if this episode EVER POSTS.

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