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kabra-malvada · 2 years

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💖Hello~💖

And so it continues:

Ya'll have such cool ocs I'm telling ya!

✨ //☆u☆//✨

@toastedjacko

@bittysteam

@axolotluv

#Forose #cody #jac-ko #other's oc #sneak attack

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tachibubu · 2 years

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Hello again!

Can you write one with Aegon? Where his wife, who has just discovered she is pregnant, ends up being attacked by an undercover guard and nearly kills her, but her bodyguard kills the intruder. However, even injured, when Aegon returns to the room without knowing what happened, because she didn't want to tell him, he sees her injured and takes care of her.

HOW THEY REACT WHEN YOU WERE INJURED

∆ PAIRING ; Aemond Targaryen | Jacaerys Velaryon | Aegon II Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader/OC/Self-Insert

∆ SUMMARY ; In which the boys were unable to protect you while pregnant when an assassination had happen when he is not within your reach. (Takes place during the war towards late war.)

∆ WARNINGS ; angst with fluffy ending, youre pregnant, minimal violence, ooc characters, some minor/major(?) spoilers from the book (wont indicate what it is).

NOTE ; I changed the concept to them knowing you're pregnant instead so that their intentions would be far more heavy! It's quite hard to write it fully so I hope it is fine! (got the askers permission to write it with Jac and Ae too!)

Aegon was content with the few things he had in life and would not want them stripped away. The war took a toll on his whole life, which is still currently happening to his dismay. He was trying to hunt with a handful of his comrades to alleviate his nerves before the Blacks made their move while still struggling with a foot injury. However, the peaceful moment was quickly interrupted when a squire hurried to deliver some news. He turned his horse to ride back to the castle in such a hurry that not even the knights and lords who had been riding with him could halt when he learned about the incident that had recently occurred while he was gone.

He yelled as he slid off the horse without assistance, "Who dares touch the queen? I will rip their limbs off!" He winced in agony but dragged his injured feet towards the assembly of knights despite the advice of the maesters, who sought to assist him but were met with a swat of his palm.

His gaze penetrated the bloodied man next to your sworn protector, Ser Criston Cole, "So you're the fuckin' bastard," he snarled. He was littered with bruises and wounds; Criston clearly took a toll on him, but he managed to keep himself from doing more harm, though Aegon remained unsatisfied. Rather, he gave the man a punch to the face, then spat at him before sneering at Criston. He was clearly unhappy with him for not having been able to prevent the incident straight away, but he kept quiet. "Ser Criston, I command you to amputate each of his limbs one by one."

"Try not to cut his nerve. I want him to experience it slowly," were his last words before he left and dismissed the pleas of mercy from the assailant, asking the servants to escort him to your shared quarters immediately.

You were covered in bruises and had a fresh cut on your lip when he first met you. He fought back tears as he demanded the healers to leave your chamber immediately and cursed at them for mistreating you while he was absent even if they were trying their best to alleviate your pain. When the room was empty, he had knelt down next to you, trying to bandage you, though his limited knowledge of such things frustrated him before he whimpered on your lap. Suffocating himself within his own tears.

He sobbed uncontrollably while you whispered sweet words of comfort to him, "I'm sorry, I'm deeply sorry,... " He doesn't know anything; he doesn't even know how to protect his pregnant wife and their unborn child. He became frustrated with himself as he bit his lip, drawing blood, and vented his feelings to you: "My sweet girl, I can't even protect you."

"I'm frightened," he confessed as he pecked the back of your hand before peering at you while tears gushed down his ashen cheeks, his eyes begging for forgiveness. "I will never leave you again, my love. I promise."

________________________________________

Aemond had just returned from an expedition with Vhagar. He had received a notice from the Keep informing him that you had been the victim of an attempted assassination. No matter how he urged Vhagar to fly faster, she did not advance him far enough for him to be satisfied with the pace.

Vhagar landed outside the gates after entering the Red Keep's border. His dignity eluded him as he fled. Even though they paid no heed at Aemond, the knights were perplexed by the prince's unexpected action. Whenever a maester attempted to stop the prince's advances, he was silenced by the prince's gaze, too scared to face the wrath of the second prince as he lived up to his infamous reputation.

He gasped for air when he saw you laying on your shared bed and then walked cautiously over to you, as if not to scare you. "What happened to him?" he whispered, his voice cold yet soothing.

"Dead, Aemond," You immediately embraced the evidently shaken man, and he reciprocated the embrace, trying to ease his tremors. He felt disgusted with himself for not being able to even protect you through such a catastrophic event, yet he was also relieved that you were still alive and breathing and that your pregnancy was not affected. "I am afraid." You added before Aemond gave you a tender kiss.

He inspected your wounds delicately, asking, "Where does it hurt?" You pointed to the locations of all the injuries and recounted what had happened in extensive detail while he grunted in agreement. If it had been someone else, you may have assumed they were not paying attention, but Aemond had a different way of expressing it; after kissing you once again, he cleansed your wounds and covered them with fresh cloths.

His brows furrowed as he was plainly distressed and lost in thought. You smiled before placing your lips against his in an attempt to console him, and he moaned in surprise but returned the kiss deeply. He guided you with his hand behind your neck and did not rush the tender moment you two were sharing. He pressed his forehead against yours after several kisses and whispered lowly, "I'll kill them all, every last one of them."

"I'll win this war for you and for our child, my lady, my (Y/N)."

________________________________________

Jacaerys, who seeks to control his emotions as advised by his teacher, couldn't help but spout incoherent obscenities when the information was presented to him. He had just completed sealing the partnership of the North when he received unfortunate news as soon as he arrived in Dragonstone.

He projected his voice into the room: "When did it take place?" The black council stayed silent. Mysaria, the acknowledged Mistress of Whisperers, spoke up with clarity, concerned that she might have disrespected the prince. She had just entered Dragonstone to deliver information when she was met by the prince's wrath.

"Just half a moon ago, my prince," she answered honestly, as Jacaerys clasped both of his hands together and took a deep breath. His anger is only just rising.

He hissed faintly, "And you told me exactly that now?"

Before Mysaria could respond, a Lord intervened, saying, "It is my duty to see you tended first before —"

The thud of the chair collapsing on the floor echoed throughout the room before the prince went out. Although he stomped violently with each stride, they were nevertheless somewhat elegant. The council members lowered their heads as he passed by them, but he didn't take note of it as he glanced at his protector and beckoned for him to follow.

However, once he had left the room, he developed a scowl, and his previous comfortable gait had been replaced with a brisker one. His breath paused as he witnessed you being treated for your injuries by the healers, after presumably having only just nudged the door partially open.

When you spotted him at last, you had the strength to smile at him briefly. He sat next to you on your bed and thanked the healers, pleased with their work, but it pained his heart to see you smiling even in your condition. He showered you with multiple soft kisses on your forehead, nose, lips, and neck before resting his head on your shoulder.

His palm massaged your growing stomach as his voice was low, and he said, "My lovely girls." Despite the fact that he longed for a boy, he caved in and accepted that his unborn child would be a girl as a result of the way you would correct him frequently when he spoke of the male pronouns for your child.

"You were so strong; I am very proud of you." He uttered it before giving you a peck on the stomach; his head is now resting on it as he sings a lullaby while both of you rest. "Do not worry; I am here now, and no one will lay a hand on you ever again."

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canonizzyhours · 4 months

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I'm glad this blog exists because I feel like I can say something here that's obvious but nobody wants to say it out loud.

Nearly everybody on OFMD renewal twitter who's attacking Jac and defending the old guard of Renew as a Crew leadership who refused to step down after saying they would is part of Izzy Canyon - and not just regular Izzy fans but the really hardcore deep-canyon people who hated and felt betrayed by Izzy dying in season 2, who argue that the show condoned "domestic violence" (by which they mean Izzy's toes lol), and who in many cases have said right out loud that they don't actually want to watch season 3 and/or don't care if the show's renewed. This isn't a theory - you can easily verify it just by poking around the twitter threads and going to their profiles, they aren't trying to hide it.

Why are these people still involved with the renewal effort for a show they don't want to watch anymore? Great question, and the only answer that makes any sense is it's about clout and ego and wanting to take credit for any renewal (if it happens) as some sort of vindication of their faction of the fandom. Which makes perfect sense out of why they'd all lose their shit when it became clear they weren't the only leaders of the renewal movement and that other leaders were appearing who had better ideas and were getting more respect.

This makes it easy to figure out who you should be trusting, even if you're really confused by the whole drama! If you want the show renewed, trust the people who actually share your goals and not the people who've explicitly said they don't. I'm not saying you should distrust the people attacking Jac and defending RaaC because they're Izzy fans. There are lots of Izzy enjoyers we can work alongside - the ones who actually like the show. But I am saying you shouldn't trust people who do not want the show renewed to work toward getting it renewed anyway. If renewal is your goal, work with the people who want the same thing you want.

#266.

#ofmd #izzy hands #fandom critical #renew as a crew #save ofmd #canonizzyhours

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boltlightning · 6 months

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hey gamers. the dead man’s chest soundtrack has been rolling around my head a lot lately; the extended soundtrack from this playlist has been a godsend. specifically i want to gush about the instrumentation.

the potc soundtracks use a standard orchestra composition, focusing on strings and brass and less on woodwinds. DMC introduces the kraken and davy jones, who are associated with davy jones’ organ (of course) and — well. hans zimmer went nuts and recorded the orchestra, then piped that recording back over the music through a guitar amp. it sounds uncannily like an electric bass (and yes, a guitar now and then), so for our purposes i am going to say it sounds like electric bass with CRUNCHY reverb. it seems a little counterintuitive to associate ancient and cursed beings with more modern, experimental sounds, but altogether it creates this delightful, otherworldly, primordial rock band feel.

let’s take the track from when we first meet davy jones, dutchman arrival, for instance. it gives us a touch of that electric bass underneath jones’ theme when the sailors first show up, then pivots to normal orchestration as will is fighting. HE doesn’t know who they are, only that they’re odd — and when jones shows up finally, you get the bass holding that melody all on its own, this terrifying, growling refrain that sounds like it’s seething just under the surface. an undercurrent…a heartbeat, perhaps.

hold onto that thought. let’s move on. davy jones and his organ. jones having something as dramatic, expensive, and dominating as an organ on his ship speaks to how authoritative his character is — he’s playing his self-pitying music while his crew is breaking their backs to keep this awful ship sailing. he plays it solo, then the entire orchestra joins in, and beneath it all…the thrum of a heart. the melody of jones’ theme fits lock-and-key with the beat of a heart. here, everything is orchestral, but we’ve added the warm tones of choral voices under it all, like this is a horrible waltz that everyone aboard is doomed to keep dancing. and then it spirals into discordant chaos.

as a bonus: pipe organs have the countermelody playing with foot pedals, usually. imagine jones and his peg leg playing this kind of shit while the squid beard tickles the keys

i also L O V E the chorus humming in the back half of the whipping scene. it makes my skin crawl.

this all builds to the second kraken attack, the attack that introduces the viewer to the kraken in person. just…the constant buzz of the bass under these insane, warning low brass flourishes. the guitar-alike sound is in full force here and drapes this growly, eerie echo over the entire score. just when you hit the natural apex of the song, when you think you might reach some sort of musical resolution, it cuts out for a caesura — and bursts back in with the organ melody, huge and overwhelming over it all, as the kraken FULLY CRACKS A SHIP IN HALF. just in case you forgot who made this all happen. this is the EXACT way a heroic theme would triumphantly emerge in any classical piece of work. eat your heart out, holst.

the way jones’ theme is reprised with horns in the ship to ship score is so chilling too. it’s played in will's instrument after all! it's this teeny little bit of hope, a sign the pearl might get away — yet it’s getting lost in all the tenor voices just to really remind you how hopeless this all is. and then everything drops away and jones’ theme fully emerges in the low bass; it’s raunchy and nasty and so, so scary. god. what a score.

they do such a good job with the themes, even without visuals it’s so easy to tell who is on screen doing what in any of the tracks from the wheel of fortune section (specifically heart madness on the extended soundtrack). if there’s soaring brass and string stings, you know local romance heroes will and norrington are trying to kill each other on the wheel. if it’s quiet with a plucky little string soli, low reeds, and snare accents, you know jack is doing some shenanigans off to the side. if there’s deep and growling bass and organ swells, it’s elizabeth and pintel and ragetti racing against the crew of the dutchman for the heart.

in particular there’s this delightful bit in the track immediately preceding it, 3-way sword fight, where the melody starts and stops as all three dudes with swords are getting their footing on the various precarious places they take their fight. it builds and builds, and soon the melody is getting juggled by three different groups of instruments as elizabeth gets drawn into the fight too. talk about chaos.

on a related, but more lowkey character note: i ADORE that beckett’s associated instrument is the harpsichord. you only hear it a little bit in the track when will is bargaining with beckett. the harpsichord immediately puts you in the mind of aristocratic england; it was a household instrument back then, it’s plausibly an instrument beckett could play himself! it’s particular, but at the same time it’s subtle. it’s not dominating. he’s a new player in the game with a unique position, and damn does he know how to play the game.

and FINALLY. to compare beckett to someone ostentatious in a much different way: jack is associated with two themes, summed up perfectly in this track. this big, great, sweeping, seafaring melody we know and love, with regimented snare drum and timpani, the whole nine yards. it invokes jack’s reputation, the captain in his title…and then it fades to that stupid little soli, the gremlin trickster we all know and love.

yet compare that track with this demo of the same themes — it’s the exact same music, just with a solo piano, and it sounds so moody, even when the key and tempo pick up. THAT’S the power of instrumence baby! the texture, timbre, and context of any given melody changes the weight and impact, even if the notes are exactly the same.

finally finally: i hope the timpani player finds a million dollars every day in the street.

ok. phew. this soundtrack makes me want to go learn cello and i needed to get that out of my system. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

#bolt watches potc #pirates of the caribbean #dead man's chest #music #(i worked hard on this i'm putting it in the tag)#hey also. if anyone knows which orchestras recorded the soundtracks i'd be forever grateful!! want to make sure they're credited

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mirai-e-jump · 9 months

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Hero Vision Vol.15 (2004/Summer) ft. Kamen Rider Blade Cast Interviews Hironari Amano x Yoshifumi Oshikawa (Suit Actor) (translation below)

Publication: August 20, 2004 (between episodes 29-30) Hironari Amano (Sakuya Tachibana) x Yoshifumi Oshikawa (Garren Suit Actor)

"When did you two first meet?"

Oshikawa: It was before we started filming. We went to JAC's (Japan Action Club) training field and practiced our moves with Pilot Director Ishida-san and Action Director Miyazaki-san. At that time, Miyazaki-san said, "Try doing things with your own personality," and Amano-kun did exactly that, becoming Sakuya Tachibana. I was so impressed, that I wondered if he had already practiced for the role.

Amano: My first impression of Oshikawa-san was that he looked like a nice person. I had heard that those who train at JAC are really intimidating. And yet, it seemed like it was full of nothing but nice people. Even half a year later, I still think he's very nice.

"What were your first impressions of Garren?"

Oshikawa: When I was working on Faiz last year, I received three sheets of illustrations for Blade, Garren, and Chalice, as they would be next year's Riders. Out of all of them, the one I had my eye on the most was Garren. But, at first they said I would play Chalice, and that Garren would be played by Ito-san. However, as the start of filming approached, I was told, "It looks like they want you to become Garren." I said, "Ah, Is that so? (happy). Well, I've got alot to think about" Since then, I've been really enjoying it. For the first time, compared to Takaiwa-san (Blade's suit actor), I play the role of his much stronger senior. Playing the role of a senior, I struggled alot with the idea of hitting Takaiwa-san in the face, calling him an "Idiot," and other things like that. So, when it came time to do it for real, I was too scared to touch him (laughs).

"Amano-san seems better in that regard."

Amano: That's true. I am the oldest. That's why I don't really struggle when it comes to playing the part in that respect. The other day, we were both being criticized by Tsubaki-kun, right? (laughs). We both had to sit next to each other.

Oshikawa: Tsubaki-kun started to lecture me.

Amano: He said, "Garren, you're really holding me back here" (laughs).

Oshikawa: He told me, "All you do is get in the way of the battle!" (laughs). He then said, "It's annoying" (laughs).

Amano: He's the annoying one (laughs). But, we can't really argue with the guys on Blade's team, can we? It's hard to fight back against them (laughs). Even though Garren's team is in a better position to attack.

"Do you reference anything when thinking about Garren's movements?"

Oshikawa: I tend to go to Ikebukuro when I have time off. Right in front of one of the Matsukiyo's (drugstore) in Ikebukuro, there's a crosswalk, with some space inbetween the roads. I'll just sit there and watch as people go by. There are all kinds of people, so I'll look for the details of how they walk and turn around, and sometimes, if I think it's a good movement, I'll try doing it next performance. It's all just normal behavior, but sometimes they do things that are out of the ordinary. Overall, it's really interesting to watch.

"Is there anything interesting about Amano-san's actions?"

Oshikawa: Amano-kun has the tendency to keep his eyes on his opponents once he faces them, so when confronting the enemy, he doesn't take his eyes off of them, almost as if he's threatening them with just his eyes.

Amano: It was brought up to me by Director Ishida. Up until now, I've often performed with my eyes looking down. My performance with Sayoko-san was good, but after that, whether I was being persuasive or frustrated by betrayal, I would keep my eyes down. I was told it made me look weak. Actually, when I watched myself in the aired episodes, I did look weak. So, when expressing my feelings, I try to perform in a way that I can't move my eyes away. When we're told to get ready to perform, we get ready and switch into our roles, but Oshikawa-san, he changes the moment he puts the mask on.

Oshikawa: My mood changes. It doesn't matter what height I'm reaching for, I feel like I can do anything. It's like there's nothing I can't do…..

"When wearing the mask, are there ever any personal annoyances, such as sweat getting in your eyes?"

Oshikawa: It doesn't matter once you put the mask on.

Amano: Is that so. Isn't it itchy? Ah, or maybe something else gets in your eyes?

Oshikawa: Never. It's because I'm totally focused. When I'm putting on my mask, I feel like I'm sweating profusely and burning up, but when I'm actually wearing it, I don't feel that way.

Amano: But, the photo of him trying to drink with his mask on looks like a joke (laughs). They actually took a photo of that.

Oshikawa: When?! Of Me? Ah, but, today I was told that when you're wearing a mask and your throat is bothering you, to just hold your mouth over the top of the mask and cough.

Amano: That! That's what Oshikawa-san did! (laughs). I thought it didn't make any sense.

Oshikawa: I don't remember doing that at all, I was only told that for the first time today (honest).

"What scene are you most proud of?"

Oshikawa: It still wasn't a satisfying outcome, but it was when I was about to seal the Peacock (Undead) at the sandy beach. I had the sealing card and was wondering whether to throw it or simply drop it, as a test, I dropped it. I asked the director and he said I could keep my test, so I dropped it again for the real take. But, I wondered how it would look on air to drop it, as I've only been throwing them to seal them off.

Amano: I though it was great. As a normal hero, you'd think, "(For your lovers sake) Finish him off!" But Tachibana isn't that type of hero. It made me very happy to know that Oshikawa-san dropped the card with such consideration.

Oshikawa: Ah, is that so? I'm glad~ (laughs). Until I saw the aired episode, I wondered if that was the right thing to do.

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actual-arrrchie · 11 months

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What are some of ypurMichael/Jeremike headcanons? Could you share them with us?

Oooooh there's SO MANYYY These two are all I've been thinking about for over a year now and I don't plan to stop anytime soon lmao Putting a read more in there so you don't spend 10 years scrolling past this post

MICHAEL W. AFTON (voice claim: Kenai from Brother Bear)

His full name is Michael William Afton, he never mentions his second name to anyone for obvious reasons though

He was born in Utah

Autistic

Bisexual

Big sharp canines

He has vitiligo

He's a momma's boy

Pathetic wet cat boyloser

Clara and William divorced when the kids were very young. William got to keep them because he had better income and could provide "a better home" for them. He made it impossible for Clara to meet the kids again and told them that mom doesn't love them anymore. Michael didn't want to believe it but as the time passed, he eventually did

Clara was writing letters to the kids but William would burn them all before they could see them

Michael took the worst traits after William, unfortunately. He deals with sudden mood swings and serious anger issues

He was never taught a healthy way to cope with his emotions.

Michael sucks at explaining what he feels so he would often get frustrated and angry when people don't get why he's feeling a certain way

He's been dealing with night terrors every since his parents divorced

William always treated Evan and Elizabeth better than him so he feels jealous of them. Evan was too little to truly understand what's been happening around him but he did have a feeling that it's unfair, Elizabeth on the other hand was a daddy's girl and despite feeling like Williams wasn't giving her enough attention, she still always agreed with him and would stay on his side

Michael breaks stuff a lot. His room is always a mess because of this. He tore apart countless sketchbooks and notebooks, broke mirrors and even threw furniture around. After this kind of anger outbreaks, he always breaks down in tears and cries himself to sleep

Mike rarely looks in the mirror because of his many times people told him he looks just like his father. He never looks at family photos either

Michael and William have more in common than their appearance. Mike's small gestures and body language are exactly the same too. He hates it because people point it out all. the. time. There's nothing ha can do about it though

Even tho Michael hates his father, deep inside he still desperately craves his love and attention so he clings to any, even the slightest bits of kindness he gets from him. That makes it really easy for William to manipulate him and make him do whatever he wants him to do

Michael gets in fist fights a lot

He's not a stranger to violence in general but he's also really anxious and insecure. He always feels like he has to prove to everyone that he's nothing like William but most of the times it only shows how similar they are

Michael only cries when he's sure nobody can see it. William used to yell at him for crying when he was a child so he learned that he can never show any weakness

After the bite of 83, Michael experienced really bad panic attacks when he was exposed to animatronics or even his Foxy mask.

William would still force him to help in the pizzeria and make him work with the robots on purpose

Michael was forced to help at the diner/pizzerias since he was only 8 years old. Even when he was older, he never got officially hired there. William would just pull the "I pay for everything, you live off of my money so you owe me" card and make him work

He was anemic when he was about 13-14 years old, mostly because of how quickly he grew in that time and bad eating habits

Michael frowns a lot, not only when he's angry or irritated though. He tends to frown as a default expression which leads to a lot of misunderstandings

He's REALLY bad at taking care of plants

He loves cats and animals in general

JEREMY "REMY" FITZGERALD (voice claim: Seán McLoughlin aka Jacksepticeye)

Irish

Nonbinary [he/they]

Gay

Has two older brothers

Himbo

Big dumb silly idiot

Jeremy was born in Galway, Ireland and moved to California with his brothers and parents when he was 3 years old

They moved to Hurricane, Utah 16 years later and lived alone since

BIGGEST QUEEN FAN

Absolutely adores plants and has so many of them in their small apartment

Did construction work before getting a job at Freddy's

Has lots of religious trauma, all of it actually

Many piercings, most of them done by himself (idiot)

Has a big ivy tattoo

Was kicked out by his parents for being gay and struggled a lot to survive before starting a construction job. He even had to steal food a couple of times

Has ADHD

Has type 2 diabetes

Jeremy always dreamed about having a beautiful home with a big garden with lots of flowers and other plants in it but the best he got was a small old apartment filled with plants in pots.

They're very allergic to cats but that doesn't stop him from shoving his face into every kitty's belly

Jeremy was neglected as a child, his parents never planning a third child and not being too keen on having to raise another one. They put most of the responsibilities on their older sons which made them dislike their youngest sibling from the very beginning

Mary Anne and Patrick (the parents) never really tried to hide their indifference towards Jeremy, at east when they weren't in public. Because, naturally, they would hate for people to talk badly about them

Jeremy spent most of his childhood alone in their room, wandering the streets or spending time with Citlali, their best friend, and her parents. Remy adored them all and preferred hanging out with them over being with their own family

After moving to Utah he became very open about their identity. Moving away from his parents was difficult but also provided a whole new opportunity to finally be himself and make their own decisions

there is A WHOLE LOT more but this is all I've got in my head right now saiduhsada SHAMELESS PLUG TIME BUT YOU WILL LEARN A LOT MORE ABOUT MY JEREMIKE IN THE FIC I'M WRITING, IT'S CALLED "Insufficient" ON AO3

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #jeremy fitzgerald #insufficient au #fnaf au #michael afton #headcanons #my au

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gyubby99 · 1 year

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Jelsa headcanons because THEMMMMM LOOK AT THEM

Elsa is an insomniac and Jack is a heavy sleeper I HAVE SAID IT AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN.

Love language is physical touch. Loves holding hands often to remind them that they're more than just cold hands

Elsa loves looking at him when he's not looking. And when he does, she smile grows as he smiles as well.

Dumbasses. There are millions of dumbasses but they're my favorite.

Elsa sometimes doesn't get his dad jokes

Jack talks about Elsa the way Aladdin talked about Jasmine to the genie in that one scene

In Taylor Swift songs, I would describe their relationship dynamic as the 'sweet nothing' and 'afterglow' type.

THEY BOTH ARE MAMA'S BABIES. JACK IS A MAMA'S BOY AND ELS IS A MAMA'S GIRL. FOR SURE.

They both do not know how to dance and they just sort of learned to dance with each other.

Elsa takes her gloves off when she's with him. (Pre-coronation)

I don't think Elsa gives him the silent treatment when they fight. She knows that all his life people were passing through him like he doesn't exist, so pretending that he doesn't exist would strike a memory in him.

Constantly argues, but not too much. It's normal for them to have disagreements and things doesn't necessarily have to end up with them raising voices.

Elsa will do anything to get cuddles with this man. Everything.

Enjoys stargazing.

Taylor and Joe = Them. End of discussion. They're a little too significant it leaves me in awe

Elsa has panic attacks, Jack has nightmares. Get them therapy.

They're menaces that Tooth and Anna has to keep in a leash constantly /hj

Jack: "I still love you no matter how many times you sing in the middle of the night"

Jack is Elsa's ball of sunshine aside from Anna.

Jack jokes about how big her eyes are

Elsa steals his hoodie.

Jack is a switch for sur-

I cannot stress enough how much they love being in each other's arms. Ten page long essay. Powerpoint presentation. I'll do it.

They'd be cheezy parents that their future kids would be embarrassed of them being over each other.

Jack kisses her all over when she's mad at him

They both play pranks at Anna

Jack makes funny faces to make Elsa laugh when she's upset and it works.

Their mutual pining lasted longer their actual relationship /hj

Jack has scars on his back from when Pitch yeeted him, and Elsa was the first one he trusted to see them.

Elsa is a songwriter and he listens to her works.

Their first kiss was under the mistletoe

They make perfect snow angels

Elsa makes a huge ass snowball like she did with Anna in that one short clip while chasing Jack in high heels and he'd never felt more terrified and inlove before in his life.

Jack's the flirty one, but when elsa flirts back, best believe he just stands there beet red.

Jack is big on surprises, and Elsa loves giving gifts.

Their pet name for each other is either Love, or Snowflake/Frosty. Im not accepting anything more. This is my headcanon.

Elsa is thirsty for him. Girlie I know what you are. She's the thirsty one in the relationship

They're both bisexuals :)

Jack fell first, Elsa fell harder.

Sunshine = Elsa. Sunshine protector = Jack.

Jack gets along with Elsa's snow children (olaf, marshmallow, snowgies) very well. They're his children now. Marshmallow has a soft spot for his dad. All of them appeared in Jelsa's wedding. Marshmallow cried.

Jack starts the snowball fights, Elsa finishes them.

Lots of bickering.

Jack teases her about the "let it go" sequence and she loathes it.

They both play with Sandy's dream sands.

Elsa gets along with Tooth very well. Me personally, I see Tooth as too busy swooning over Elsa's teeth to consider her a love rival. They're besties and that is the hill I am prepared to die on.

For the first time in Jack's life, when they first started dating, Jack Frost was on the nice list.

North SHIIIIPPS THEMMM. He'd be the type to embarrass Jack in front of Elsa and HE WOULD. HE WOULD.

The elves adore Elsa and Jack had to shoo them away for being all over her.

Elsa helps North make toys and Jack is just being Jack.

They love playing with each other's hairs. They can't stand cuddling without doing it.

Elsa, surprisingly, was an open book to Jack.

Jack's favorite pillow is her lap.

#jelsa #royalfrost #snowtp #jelsa headcanons #jack x elsa #elsa and jack frost #crossover #crackships #rise of the brave tangled frozen dragon #rotbtfd #2013 flashbacks #here to remind u that this is still a thing

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duhragonball · 2 months

Text

Neon Genesis Evangelion 12

I'm old enough to remember when 2000 A.D. was kind of a big deal, and now it's just whatever 1976 was to people who lived in 2000 A.D.

Gosh, this takes me back. Remember back in 2000, when everything was mustard-toned for some reason? Triple H and the Rock kept trading the WWF title back and forth, and Antarctica was on fire?

We got a glimpse of Misato's past in that flashback, but in the present, she's been promoted to Major. Shinji and Asuka didn't even notice, but Big Rigg Mahoney caught on right away, because he's an expert on rank insignia and such. Suzuhara knows too, but come on, we all know he learned it from Big Rigg Mahoney.

The Eva pilots do some sort of "stress test" thing at the base. I'm not sure what this is for, but Shinji shows great improvement so he gets a gold star for it. He's uncomfortable being praised, though.

Later, the kids throw a little party to celebrate Misato's promotion. Oh, I didn't notice the sash she's got on, that's adorable!

Naturally, Big Rigg Mahoney organized this whole shindig, and the writers honor him by using his full name for the first time since Episode 4. It's too late, though. He's been Big Rigg Mahoney for too long now, and he won't go back.

Speaking of guys I had to rename because I don't dare look up what they're actually called, I think Vice Commander Clownshoes needs a cooler rank. "Admiral Clownshoes" has a nice ring to it.

The others make a lot of loud screeching noises, and Shinji and Misato have this quiet conversation in the middle of it, which seems kind of impossible, with the noise, but okay. They both don't handle praise very well, and Shinji asks why she joined NERV, and she dodges the question.

At the moment, Major Katsugari is in charge of NERV, because Geno Ikari and Admiral Clownshoes are on some expedition to Antarctica, or what's left of it. We never find out why they're there, so I'm just gonna skip over this.

No, wait. Imagine a "Steamed Hams" bit featuring these two. Clownshoes feeds him Krustyburgers and Gendo just clasps his hands over his beard and stares enigmatically.

Oh, this is the dumbest looking one yet. I thought the Angel from Episode 1 looked kind of weak, but I didn't mind because I assumed they would get cooler looking as the show went on. Now I'm starting to wonder if that guy was my favorite the whole time.

This Angel just floats in low orbit over the Earth and drops pieces of itself. The telemetry indicates that it's just practicing, improving its aim, but Misato figures it'll eventually launch an attack on NERV headquarters. Ritsuko further speculates that it'll drop its entire body when that happens, which would cause tremendous devastation. They seem very chipper about this.

So the Angel's attack strategy is.... falling. Really hard, I guess. Misato's counterplay is... catch the Angel before it hits.

Let me back up. A while back, it was established that Angels have an "AT Field" which protects them from conventional weapons. The Evas can neutralize this advantage, and this is apparently because the Evas possess their own AT Fields. I'm not sure if the fields cancel each other out, or if the Evas can use their fields to penetrate the fields of their enemies. Anyway, I think this Angel isn't just falling from a great height; it's also using its AT field to make a bigger impact when it hits. Likewise, Misato's plan seems to depend on the Evas' AT fields being powerful enough to halt the angel just before it hits the ground.

But this is still an objectively stupid plan. The calculations say it only has a 1-in-10,000 chance of working. Even the pilot kids can tell how stupid it is. Misato has already ordered the evacuation of Tokyo-3 and all non-essential NERV personnel. The kids still agree to do it, but they don't expect it to work. Misato offers to take them all out for a steak dinner if they win. You know, if the four of them all came out of this episode wearing Ribera jackets, that would be fuckin' awesome.

I'm not gonna photoshop it, but just imagine them all showing up for work the next day rocking these bad boys. Wait, the Ribera steakhouse is in Tokyo, so I guess it got destroyed in the wars that followed the Second Impact. Well so much for that.

Asuka doesn't plan to write a will because she doesn't expect to die. Rei also has no use for a will, but it's spookier when she says it, like she doesn't need a will because she cannot be killed in any way that matters. Shinji doesn't need to write a will because I'm pretty sure the only thing he owns is that stupid shirt of his, and the tape player that he's probably worn out replaying the same two songs over and over.

Also, Rei pre-emptively refuses the steak dinner. Not because she's afraid of failure, or because she is confident in her success. She just doesn't care for meat. Bad. Ass.

So they start getting ready for this, and Misato basically tells her crew that she has no idea what she's doing, and most of this plan is pure guesswork. It only works if the Evas manage to get under the Angel as it comes down, and they have no idea if it's even going to crash on them. She's just pretty sure it will, and she even trots out that "woman's intuition" line, which is one of the hackiest things in the hack playbook.

On their way to deploy, Shinji asks Asuka why she pilots the Eva, and you might want to sit down for this: She does it for the attention. Just the mere fact that people will acknowledge her existence, as if anyone could ignore this kid. She asks Shinji why he pilots the Eva, and he doesn't know. This is episode twelve, by the way. We'll get our answer today, but let the record show: this is episode twelve.

Then we get a flashback? Flash forward? At some point, Misato finally reveals to Shinji why she joined NERV. Her father was a scientist who threw himself into his work, just like Shinji's dad. Misato resented him for it, but when Second Impact happened, he sacrificed himself to save her, and she's felt a burning desire to defeat the Angels ever since. It's not just to avenge her father, but perhaps to spite him. Shinji can sort of relate to this.

Back to the mission, the Angel has begun to descend, so the Evas have to hustle those buns before McDonalds switches from the breakfast menu to the lunch menu. "McDonalds had all-day breakfast in 2015", you may say. Yare yare daze. In this world, where the Angels have destroyed half the world's population, the visionaries who made all-day breakfast possible no longer exist. The funding and logistical support for such an initiative has been siphoned away to fund the NERV agency. And so, manga man, the breakfast menu will end at 11:00am.

Anyway, yeah, Shinji gets under the Angel and catches it, then the girls swoop in to add their AT fields to his, and then Asuka stabs it in the eyeball to kill it.

I guess this makes sense.

With that settled, Misato receives a call from Gendo Ikari in the Antarctic. He congratulates her on her success, and handwaves the damage done to Eva Unit 01, since destroying Angels is their purpose. He then asks to speak with the pilot of Unit 01 and tells Shinji, directly, that he did a good job. Wow. I just assumed this would never happen, or maybe Gendo would say half of this with his dying breath in the final episode or something. But no, they just gave this away in Episode 12. Huh.

Later, the kids take up Misato on her steak dinner promise, but they choose a ramen stand instead, because they know she's poor as fuck. Also, Rei doesn't like meat, so this just makes sense. They should have gone to Taquiera Goku. This is so close, but yet so far.

Anyway, while they eat, Shinji tells Misato that he finally knows why he pilots the Eva. It's so he can hear the praise from his father, like he did today. That's what keeps him going, even if it took this long for him to get it.

Well, we're inching a little closer, I guess. This will probably all come together quickly, so let me use this space to throw out a few theories I've had in mind.

The Eva pilots have to be 14-year-olds for some reason. I can see no good reason for this, except that there must be some quality in them that literally did not exist prior to Second Impact. Either they got magic powers from it, or they've been genetically engineered to pilot Evas, or some other thing, but it's got to be some deal where the pilots were "invented" around the same time as the Evas themselves. NERV doesn't want to use fourteen year-olds, but there literally isn't anyone older who would be compatible, and they simply can't wait any longer for them to grow up.

I suspect that the Evas are Angels themselves, or some sort of technology built from Angel corpses, or something like that. That's why they have AT fields, and why no one else has any idea how to recreate the technology.

I also get a strong I Am Legend vibe from this whole story. I only saw the Will Smith movie, but as I understand it, the book follows a similar track, where this lone human is trying to get rid of the vampires, only to discover that the vampires see him as the monster, since he's this lone enemy who constantly tries to destroy their community. He's their legend now, just as Count Dracula was the legend in his culture once.

The Angels keep attacking NERV, getting bolder and smarter each time, and no one knows or cares why this keeps happening, because they're too worried about defending themselves. But it sure feels like the Angels are trying to defend themselves, since NERV is committed to their destruction. And if I'm right, it sure seems like Gendo Ikari is doing some shady shit involving Angels, which might make him seem like a major threat to the Angels. They're trying to destroy humanity before humanity destroys them. Second Impact itself may have been caused by Angels trying to stop Ikari or Misato's dad from hurting them.

So I predict this will get revealed near the end. The Angel attacks will get more intense and brutal, and then the kids will find out that they've been the baddies all along, and shit will hit the fan. Don't tell me if I'm right or not, but that's how things are looking to me right now.

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #shinji ikari #misato katsuragi #rei ayanami #asuka langley soryu #toji suzuhara #big rigg mahoney #clownshoes #ritsuko akagi #gendo ikari

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ridhistory21 · 10 months

Text

Fem Jacaerys

have you ever considered if jacaerys was girl. Imagine she being heir on being first born child N moreover a bastard would have caused double drama. Her and Rhaenyra both fighting for their position would be so sweet❤️. And Imagine what the heck of scandal mushroom would be writing about her 😂 ----------------

" prince Aegon N princess jac(fem) were very close friends but Queen rejected their marriage proposal made by princess Rhaenyra sadly. "

"Later it was known that Queen wanted to make the proposal of Prince Daeron's marriage with princess Jac. "

"Prince Aemond hated her throughout their childhood because King gave more attention to her more than his own children. He hated her so much that he used to observe her every moment and many times spilled drinks on her dress according to maids"

"Many noticed that Prince Daeron,Prince Aemond, Princess Jace,prince lucerys had a huge fight one night and next day Daeron was sent to old town for punishment. Which made queen drop her marriage proposal thought again"

"Acc to the sources Princess Jac was betrothed to North lord Cregan stark. Many voices from crowd said that Prince Aemond was so angry after hearing this news through Lucerys at Borros's palace. Prince Aemond started the whole war for it and mercilessly killed prince lucerys. After all Aemond hated her and according to him Princess jace should have married prince Daeron ,in their house "

"Sources said that princess jac was expecting Lord Cregan's child. They were in love very much. But unfortunately Princess died in mid battle. This made Cregan stark furious. Now he's joining the blacks to fullfill her last wish. He announced it clearly that he and his whole north would die for princess Jace."

" People say that prince Aemond wasn't satisfied with her death. It was opposite, he was getting mad behaving more crazy and unstable day by day. Their wasn't bit of happiness on his face but only rage. May be he wanted more armies and corlys to get killed. "

"That's why he attacked Harrenhal and killed every strong family member from bastard to old men every one except lady called 'Alys rivers'. Heard from people that she looked like princess jace. People also claimed that she was strong bastard and sister of Harwin and larys strong. "

" Sources said that among all young girls Prince Aemond chose to bed her only probably as she's a witch or may be their were whispers that she reminds Aemond of princess jace but I don't think so as he hated her alot."

"Finally lord Cregan stark kept his lover's promise and removed all "

#house of dragons #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #daeron targaryen #rheanyra targaryen #alys rivers

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

Note

Shit got detour, but for gun magic

Now I absolutely 100% understand why Rowling avoided such a idea given it’s was already a bitch to do magical stuff for kids thanks to parent groups AND all the discourse around that time

But if I was to make gun magic, I would say that early development of it did exist in the ancient past like with China. And the European wizard improved it but in the end it was considered a niche as I check wands been in use in the potter since the BC era. So magical guns were a niche in the old world that got heavily developed in the new world for multiple reasons.

🤔

What tribes folklore giants we didn’t wipeout completely in the Wild West we can use? Like here a joke

The native wizard: Pale one, perhaps we can use our magic to create certain guns?

The cowboy wizard: Why?

The giant monster in the distance: GROOOOORA!

Cowboy:…I got a idea

Oh oh oh! UFO sightings in Nevada and areas actually just wizard flying around?

Of course American wizards use wands since they were acknowledged since book 4 and we saw them in fantastic beasts though I heard Ilvermorny kids can’t take their wands homes and have to leave it at school until the age of 17

Oh yeah that totally going to work with a lot of Americans wizards

(They probably have more bootleg magical items than all the prohibiton bootleg liquor and poor black person bootleg dvd collections…not that I may or may not have my own or know a guy)

Also one thing, Rowling (and people who try to copy her) often forget that Harry Potter Wizarding setting worked because she combined and modernize it. And used Britain existing folklore. She also had the Roman republic/empire to fall back to as a the Roman’s established a lot of trades routes in Western Europe thus many wizards from different parts of it could interacted and merge.

Maybe because she is British, Rowling can’t or don’t understand how diverse everything is. Like I can see the magical Congress she made try to keep the American Wizard society in check. But so vast

I mean look at the Midwest, Midwest wizards probably got a lot of good farming magic. But we also probably very innovative

Hmm as a Chicagoan…should I say the Midwestern wizards made a magical Tommy gun? Much pay homage to the infamous Al Capone

Also not to mention the LOCAL native tribes that still exist. I mean western tribes would definitely have their own desert magic vs the forest eastern ones.

Of course she mention the European wizards…but we should also have a huge change when the Chinese and other Asians wizards immigrated to America. Maybe martial art magic is an extra curriculum and such.

Am I making sense, yeah the American wizards guns is funny because we would make some of the most powerful magic bullets that would be consider heresy

But a joke if Voldemort won and attacked America

Voldemort: You disgusted mutts, the blood of the must powerful wizards runs in your veins yet also the blood of steer rats

The current head of the magical Congress(been around since Teddy and look like an America navy officer around that time): Ah voldy mort! Welcome to America!

V: You dare talk to me like a commoner!

American Wizard: I would say you can go to Asia as their Wizard got skin magic that can make you look handsome

V: Enough, my dear eaters would rule this filthy country! You thought it was foolish enough to leave all your items in Massachusetts?!

AW: (Holy shit they took the bait), hmm Mr snake Sidious

V: Who?

AW: Nevermind, but heard about an infamous writer called HP lovecraft?

V: That foolish man? Yes

AW: Well his stories were real since those asses couldn’t shut up around the time and we ask him who was probe by them often to infamous the No-Maj about such creature

V: those stories are true!

AW: Kinda, but check this bowl

Voldemort then saw visions of his death eaters ripping each other faces off, screaming around like mad, and being eaten by horrific monsters

V: W-Why I was never told this?!

AW: Because your a racist inbreed jackaas that could barely tolerate fellow English man much less America

V: I will have my revenge!

AW: Man those southern wizards are good with illusions *snap his fingers*

The room dissolved and Voldemort say they were in a purple cosmos realm. He then heard giant creepy laughing

AW: All your’s Kulu

Voldemort turn around and saw it was the infamous old one Cthulhu. Despite having the master wand and use all three forgivable curses. The old one laugh and grabbed the dark lord

V: NOOOOOO I CAN NOT DIED I CAN NOT-proceed to be eaten

AW: Ugh good, now take you little nap kulu *pic up an old telephone* Yeah operation “help mother Britain” is a go. Well at least he did go to Mexico, those wizards would have gut him harder than a fish

Now I absolutely 100% understand why Rowling avoided such a idea given it’s was already a bitch to do magical stuff for kids thanks to parent groups AND all the discourse around that time

Post on here was just something about a exchange student from America at the battle of Hogwarts pulling out a handgun, I think that was what it was, faster than magic since you don't need to say words and do something with your wand.

I cast glock, pulls out a gun boom dead.

UFO's are golden snitches that made their way too far away from the quidditch pitch.

The current head of the magical Congress(been around since Teddy and look like an America navy officer around that time): Ah voldy mort! Welcome to America!

Admiral of the Navy George Dewy work as a model for you, he was in charge of the fleet in the Spanish American war so perfect for TR.

The conversation there was brilliant BTW, funny stuff.

#zoomer huey anon

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mysteryideasgroup · 11 months

Text

Jacob (My MSA X Survival Island Villain Hunter)

Full Name: Jacob Carmen

First Name: Jacob

Last Name: Carmen

Nicknames: Jac, Jaco, Sir/Boss/Master (His Minions: Terrence the Butler, Petra the Chef Cook, his Ellie the Former Chef Cook), Mr. Carmen

Gender: Male

Profile pic

Age: 50

Blood Type:

Occupation: Hunter

Past Occupation:

Favourite Shows/Games: ___/___/___/___

(___, ___, ___, ___)

Instrument: N/A

Favourite Animal: Hunter Dogs

Family Members Relatives:

Other Family Members Relatives:

Friends: His Butler and Chef Cook

Minions: Butler and Chef Cook

Enemies: Players, Survivors are escaping, Milo (Victim: Captor was escaped)

Species: Human

Status: Alive/Active

Alignment: Bad

Likes: Kill Animals, Catch People and Captors

Dislikes: Captors are escaping, Failed to kill Animals,

Hobby: Kill Animals, Collecting Animals

Goals: Need to stop captors people are escaping, Kill Players and Teams, Kill Milo (All Failed)

Weapons: Hunter Weapons

Powers and Abilities: Hunter weapons

Skills and Abilities: Hunter Skills,

Skin Colour: Tan

Eyes Colour: Light Brown

Hair Colour: Hermit Gray

Clothes: Hunter Outfit

Shoes: Hunter Outfit

Accessories: His Hunter Hat,

Hair Styles: Swept-back

Eyebrows styles: Normal

Beard Style: Mustard

Scarred Makings:

Face: Left Eye (Undamaged) Scarred

Cheeks: Two Scars

Body and Arms: Fought trying to kill Animals attacked

Personality:

Crimes: Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Poisoning

He was the Main Antagonist, Jacob is trying to attack Hunt. He was spying/constantly observing them. He called their radio to help arrive in his chopper to rescue them. Players and Teams are realized that Milo (Mystery Survivor) is warning of his manifest says: Going down it was a trap! Do not/Don’t trust JC!!! After, Players ate meals unnoticed causing them to fall asleep and wake up in a locked room. Players were kidnapped and captors. Players and Teams realized that bad people are not right and not better, they are trying to escape from his mansion. They were has escaped. He tries to kill them. They have fled to end to underground survivors. They captured him in anger from his victims who had survived the woods.

----

For @laurasanchez36

Jacob Carmen or something belongs to my new MSA oc sona Survival Island Villain

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and-to-you-its-just-words · 1 year

Text

So I’m finally watching the last season of Holby City in its entirety and while I’m throughly enjoying some of the storylines, it feels very much like they are trying to get too many storylines done. Dom’s mom got sick but then he and Carole disappeared for like 10 episodes while the Jenni/Evie trafficking story happened and then that was dropped. Jac is dying but it doesn’t get mentioned for almost 10 episodes and then she’s suddenly having panic attacks in the stairwell. They’re trying to establish Henrik and Russell (which I am very much here for) but it’s getting buried under everything else. Josh’s eating disorder is a great storyline but again it’s starting to feel like it’s getting lost. Not to mention whatever is going on with Eli and Amelia and we still haven’t got Nicky back yet.

And for some god forsaken reason they’ve brought Oliver Valentine back and expect me to give a shit.

#I get that having Ollie back is because it’s the last season #they brought so many people back #but COME ON #we’re just going to sweep him hitting a woman away because he was blacking out while he did it??#that feels like the writers were trying to have a grey storyline and the BBC told them no #it feels so weird #didn’t like him before don’t like him now #I just want to watch my favourite ham Henrik fall in love #I want to see Josh and Ange be happy #and for Nicky to find her footing #I’d also love for Jac to not die but we all know that not gonna happen #holby city #bbc holby

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riverstardis · 1 year

Text

Casualty pages from this week's TV Times :'(

Why does now feel like a good time to leave Casualty?

One of my big reasons for wanting a break was to spend more time at home. It’s a long commute [to Cardiff, where the series is filmed] and I have a young family. I was also getting that itch to explore other challenges. I turned 40 last year, too, so it all rolled into one package!

Are you pleased that Ethan isn’t being killed off?

Yes, and that was very much part of the conversation when I was toying with the idea of a break. I said, ‘I’d like the door to be left open, please.’ I know there are no guarantees in our industry, but I like that Ethan has gone away, yet there’s loads to explore down the line. In terms of storylines, there was nothing in the immediate vicinity that they wanted me to play out. So it was nice to leave quietly, much like Ethan does in the episode.

Can you reveal anything about his departure?

Ethan is going for his final interview for the Jac Naylor Award, which is a six-month placement abroad. At the same time, he’s treating a young boy who makes him think about his own son, Bodhi. Alongside all this, Fenisha’s parents are in the hospital because her mother has a heart attack. Ethan starts to assess his responsibilities. He’s aware his future is probably going to be shorter than other people’s [having been diagnosed with Huntington’s disease], so he needs to make the most of life. It all comes to a head and he makes his decision. It’s bittersweet. I’m leaving, as [clinical lead] Dylan Keogh says, with an Irish Exit!

Yes, Ethan slips away without saying goodbye to his colleagues! But, offscreen, did you have a leaving party?

Yes, and it was lovely because it coincided with Casualty’s summer break in August, so it was a joint ‘Summer & See You Later, Ethan’ party. The cast made videos, there were a few speeches and William Beck [AKA Dylan] DJ-ed! I went back in October to meet up with a few of them and it was really strange, especially as there were some new faces! The swing doors of Casualty never stay still!

Looking back over the past nine years, what have been your favourite storylines?

The story around Olivia D’Lima leaving; I loved our two wedding episodes [which aired in 2021]. Although if you’d asked me at the time, I probably would have said it was too intense! I also really enjoyed the episodes where Richard Winsor came back in flashbacks [in 2021] and we relived what happened in 2016. And I always love those big, ensemble pieces with the whole cast. Our coronavirus episode was particularly poignant; we were telling a story that meant so much.

What will you miss most – and least! – about the show?

I’ll miss the people; the cast and crew are so talented and fun to be around. But I’m happy not to do those long days in resus for a while! We film them over a couple of days and there’s a lot of tricky medical prosthetics and the medical jargon is like a foreign language.

The next chapter of your career starts with you in the stage adaptation of Peter James’ crime novella Wish You Were Dead, alongside fellow Casualty legend Clive Mantle [AKA doctor Mike Barratt] and I’m a Celebrity… 2020 winner Giovanna Fletcher…

I’m really looking forward to getting back on stage! I’ve wanted to do a play for a while because theatre’s my first love. But I’ve definitely got that feeling of going back to school.

The UK tour begins on Thursday 16 February. What can you tell us about it?

It’s the sixth play by Peter James, and fans of his will know the character Roy Grace, a detective superintendent who lives in Brighton. Most of the stories take place in and around Sussex, but this one’s a little different because Roy, who I play, and his wife, Cleo, played by Giovanna, are on holiday. It starts off light-heartedly as a holiday going wrong, but it soon becomes more sinister – the people who run the hotel aren’t who they say they are!

Did you know any of the cast beforehand?

I remember going on a school trip to see Clive in an adaptation of [John Steinbeck’s novella] Of Mice and Men with my drama GCSE group! We also did a Doctor Who audio together [in 2012] and a Casualty-themed episode of Pointless Celebrities [in 2021], which Clive won while Di Botcher [AKA paramedic Jan Jenning] and I came last!

Have you seen John Simm’s portrayal of Roy Grace in ITV1 crime drama Grace?

Yes, it’s great! I really like the books, too. I’m immersing myself in the back catalogue. I had lunch with Peter James in Brighton and he’s a really interesting guy. He does a lot of research and has been to visit people in prison. He said I can ask him any questions, which I will be taking him up on!

Hopefully, some of your Casualty co-stars will come to see you treading the boards!

Yes, I’m in Cardiff, so they have no excuse! Without being too gushy, Casualty has been completely life-changing. I got to immerse myself in a character and a show, and now I’ve come out 10 years older with all these amazing experiences!

#im so sad #love that will beck dj-ed #also have i just not being paying attention or is this the first we're hearing of the jac naylor award being a 6 month placement abroad??#i swear theyre just making this up as they go along #bbc casualty #ethan hardy #george rainsford #tv times #casualty #alt text

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jack-kellys · 1 year

Note

lay it on me bro: the devil’s inside (you opened the door, you gave him a ride)

((for reference it’s the opening line of “my eyes” by the lumineers))

you are so. we are so 🤝

send me a fic title and i'll think up a fic!

what's funny abt this title is that it goes a lot with what jac just posted. @we-are-inevitable and @roideny were talking about for... a while in the discord its this

anyway this is going to be like an au of the bfu au but also thats irrelevant.

essentially, jack is having the worst possible go at life. he's just been fired, his girlfriend dumped him a week before, rent is due soon, and his roommate is depending on him. everything is coming to a head all at once, and during the typical 3am panic attack in his room, jack swears something... answers him?

hey, do you need some help?

there is no one in his room, he thinks. he thinks, until a shadow shifts in his vision, toward him, and a face resides in it. not a clear one, mostly white shapes within the black expanse in front of him. rather round, friendly eye shapes for a creature of darkness.

"um," jack stutters out, "like, i'm having a panic attack, and seeing things–"

oh that's horrible! the wide eyes and shapeless form... says? jack can hear it- him, he has... a really sweet, soft voice actually. you aren't seeing things, though. i'm here. i'm here to help, just reach your hand out.

fuck it, it couldn't hurt, so jack's shaky hand reaches out. and it disappears from view? he thinks, at least, until something holds it and the waves of panic raging through his body simply lapse against the shore. his breathing evens, his head levels out. he's calm.

"cool..." jack breathes out. "thank you? thank you. it did help, um, can... i have my hand back?"

can i have your name?

"jack."

no, your name.

"it's jack, dude- thing..guy."

it's not. can i have it?

"it is, man fuck off–"

the calm is ripped away, the panic sets his heart in motion too suddenly, and his lungs can't take in air.

"fuck, fuck, it's cisco," he gasps out. "oh my god, it's cisco. stop."

and he does stop, and the shadow smiles, and jack can see his hand again because the shadow isn't holding it anymore.

thank you, jack, he says, and the shadow looks friendly again. i'll see you later! i'm happy i could help.

"what the fuck," jack breathes out. "what even is this? are you?"

oh, i'm davey. look, i have to go, but i'll be back later, so no need to miss me too much.

and then it- he's gone, and jack is left calm in his room at 3:15 in the morning.

basically jack's energies are so, so shit that they attract david, a demon, and jack gives davey his name, so basically davey is going to have a very very fun time with his personal little human and protect him from time to time. so instead of getting sent a guardian angel, jack gets sent a demon literally because his energies are so sick and twisted to the point where davey is like. someone must have literally cursed you as an infant, the occult must have gotten a hold of you, because your spiritual levels are so, so awful.

but also i think he can have dangerous magical connections as a treat

jack being a magical mystery is a concept i have thought about a lot, and idk if this is rly how i'd end up doing it, but i think it'd be kind of funny. like if jack was abt to be hit by a car davey's voice would go OH MY GOD WATCH OUT and possess jack, move him out of harm's way in time, and release him.

#any speaking of magical mysteries kath that reminds me of ur magic au huh wow wonder if thats doin alright ♥️#i could probably bang out a few scenes of this if i rly tried tbh. not a very linear story #thank u for the very in character ask LMAOO #mutuals #fizz wants to write #fizz answers #jack kelly #davey jacobs #newsies #newsies aus

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pizzee · 2 years

Text

here there be monsters

GET THIS BEAST AWAY FROM ME. i’ve been writing this for so long o my lord it was an endeavour let me tell ya. here’s the jack backstory fic no one asked for but i deliver anyway, here on Ao3 where the formatting is actually decent. warnings for a brief description of a panic attack and general horror elements (blood, mentions of death, monsters, etc)

AND THANK U @tiptapricot FOR BETA READING I LOVE U 💋💋FRUIT GOD NATION RISE UO

From a distant dream, somewhere on a shoreline miles away where it’s not quite dusk but not yet dawn, he sits and listens. Jack, she says, and he glances up to meet her gaze. Jack, she repeats, then reaches out and shakes him awake.

Lissa sits over him, a string of pearls strung up in a smile, eyes glittering with palpable excitement. She whispers his name again, his nickname, then his hidden name revealed to no one.

“Idiot.” She laughs, poking his cheek. “Come on, get up!”

He groans and bats her hand away, gently shoving her off before rolling over onto his stomach, right to the edge of their bed. He adjusts his covers a bit tighter and tries to ignore her. He knows it’s futile—she’s relentless when she gets like this, like there’s jet fuel heating her veins, pumping her heart, forcing her to move—but it doesn’t hurt to try. Jack likes his sleep. Lissa always has other ideas about what he can be doing.

“Come on!” Another shake, then a breath of frustration and Jack knows exactly what that means. There’s no preparing for it. He braces.

The covers are ripped off and thrown to the side, and so his pleasant bubble of warmth is gone and he’s left splayed out on the bed in the night chill. There’s no sleeping now.

He rolls back over and throws one arm over his face, peeking an eye out to look at his sister grinning. “What do you want?”

She pokes his cheeks, alternating sides while he fills them with air and lets her push it out. She laughs. He smiles.

Lissa points to the side. “The eclipse.”

Jack shifts to glance where she’s pointing, out the single window in their tiny room. The moon is bright. It’s orange. He bites back the bit of dread that always worms its way into his heart like a curse at the sight of it and keeps up with the act, fondly indulging, the fearless big brother. Jack swallows around the stone in his throat and pushes up to sit, letting Lissa crawl onto his back so he can carry her outside.

“Oof, you’re getting too big for this,” he groans quietly, allowing her to slowly push open the door of their room so they can tiptoe out of the house. Jack’s careful to step only on the floorboards he knows creak the quietest, especially when they move past where Mam�� sleeps restlessly on the sofa.

“Maybe you’re getting too old,” Lissa says directly into his ear once they’re out of Mamá’s earshot, then grabs his head and redirects it in the direction she wants to go. “Ándale!”

On he goes, out through the house and up the hill, to the spot behind a row of bushes where a makeshift campsite sits. They made it last summer, on the first full moon they didn’t leave. When Mamá didn’t drag them out of the house with no explanation of where they were going, only that they were moving. On the first night of many nights they’d spent in one place in a long, long time. Jack lets Lissa hop off his back and follows her past the leaves and branches to a soft patch of land where she plops down onto the grass. He settles beside her with a sigh.

“Your nightgown is gonna get dirty.”

Lissa rolls her eyes in a manner that’s so like their mamá he has to laugh. She shoves him for it, and he apologizes, and they sit side by side, staring at the bright orange moon looming above like a bad omen. It’s so vibrant it’s almost red, oozing moonlight like an open wound. Jack shudders, then tries to disguise it as a shiver, wrapping his arms around himself.

Something grazes his shoulder and Jack nearly jumps, but it’s just Lissa, her touch staying light and easy. He glances at her.

She smiles. “Scared?”

No, Jack wants to say. He should say, should shake his head and be ok.

Moonlight.

His nails dig into his arms.

“Yes.”

There’s no more words between them. She moves closer, leans against his side, and falls asleep with her hand in his, crescent moons left embedded into his skin. Jack doesn’t join her. He stays awake, listening to the wind and her breaths until pink and orange paint over the purples of night as the sun stretches his arms across the sky. Not quite dawn, not quite night.

Mamá makes them pack that afternoon and they leave in the evening. Jack has to heave the suitcases filled with gifts she insists on bringing, while their clothes are relegated to being stuffed in school backpacks.

“We can’t show up empty handed,” she tells him as she fills yet another bag with baby clothes for a cousin he’s never met and ceramic plates for an aunt he doesn’t remember, “it’s rude.”

“We haven’t seen these people in years,” Jack complains.

“You’re sixteen, it’s about time you meet them. These people are your family.”

Then she does the thing. She stops dead in the middle of what she’s doing and stares blankly at the only picture on the dining table that sits atop stacks of nearly past due bills. It’s a faded old brown and beige photo of his father, high brows, a smile that pushes at the corners of his eyes, hair swept back and graying. He looks happy. Jack guesses he was.

Mamá’s hands move in a practiced pattern: she swipes her eyes, slowly with the pad of her thumbs as if tears were shed, and then stretches and reaches out, fingers retracting into loose fists, closing tightly, and lowering into her lap. Her breath catches. Jack watches silently.

“When he was alive,” she starts, she always starts, “we’d visit them once a year in Oaxaca. It’s tradition.”

Is it tradition to never stay in one town for more than a month for almost a decade? Jack doesn’t ask. He doesn’t say anything at all. Mamá goes back to packing gifts and humming songs and by the time Jack comes back in for the next round of things to stow away, the frame on the table is empty.

The journey from Guadalajara to Oaxaca takes an entire day and it’s hard not to feel like they’re leaving and never coming back. Their little car is brimming with things. There’s hardly enough room in the back for anyone to sit, so Lissa ends up sitting on Mamá’s lap in the front or on the center console, where—when he isn’t driving—Jack diligently ensures her safety with an arm constantly holding her steady. Most of the time is spent singing along to songs on the radio, and playing games. Charades ends up as a game of act out whatever animal or person Lissa tells you to and have Mamá guess it. Which, when playing with Lissa, always goes off the rails.

“Who am I supposed to be?” Jack asks her while they wait in the car at the pit stop.

“The paper says it.”

He waves it around in front of her. “Bigfoot isn’t real.”

She gives him a disappointed look. “He is, I know because I’ve met him.”

“You two have lunch together?” Mamá asks as she shimmies back into the car and hands them both burritos from the food truck they stopped at.

“Yup, he’s a big fan of tea.”

“Of course he is.”

They end up debating several other theories that Lissa proposes as a universal truth.

“The chupacabra is a werewolf.”

“That’s assuming the chupacabra is real.”

She scoffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Jack chuckles and Lissa begins rambling, but he doesn’t miss the silence from their mamá, who sits with Lissa on her lap and stares blankly out the window. Her fingers are dancing across the edge of a paper. The photo of their father. Jack keeps his eyes resolutely on the road.

Night rolls around and they pull over to switch drivers. Jack moves around some luggage and makes enough room for Lissa to sleep in the back, at the expense of having to hold a suitcase in his lap, but it’s worth it. It’s dark when they continue, the sky pitch black, the road an even darker maw ahead, its teeth the sparse lights blurring past. The moon is out of sight, but it’s somewhere above. Jack doesn’t like it, so he closes his eyes. He’s half asleep when Mamá speaks.

“I will tell you a story.”

She doesn’t look at him to see if he’s awake. Her eyes stay on the road, headlights occasionally offering a glimpse of her face. Her mouth is a tight line, eyes seeing but unfocused, her hands tight around the fabric of the wheel and hair unruly from a day of travel. It makes the shadows lengthen beneath her eyes, cast over her cheekbones and under her nose, and they remind Jack of that story. La llorona, wailing over her lost children. He listens.

“A man and his wife lived in a village in the shadow of a castle. It was abandoned, only the Ghost meandered about the halls, whispering to itself, wishing it were dead. And yet it lived. The man’s wife was with child. One day, the lord of the castle returned. An evil man, who feasted on the blood of innocents and had a long shadow that did not grow as the sun descended. He returned and claimed dominion over the land, demanding all who live in the castle’s shadow acknowledge his lordship and pay taxes.

The man did not accept this new lord, but he lived in his domain. So, he captured moonlight in a bottle and sunlight in a box and placed both at the doorway of his house, preventing the lord from entering without permission and allowing him and his wife to live peacefully. The rest of the village fell into despair in the absence of light, but the man cared for his wife too much. When she went into labor, he was forced to leave his home, taking the box of sunlight with him as protection, to find a midwife. In his absence, the lord drank the wife’s blood and killed her, then made the infant drink moonlight, cursing it.”

“What were they cursed with?” Jack asked, his voice quiet.

Mamá hums, running her hands up and down the edge of the wheel. “When the moon waxes until it wanes, on the first night of their eighteenth year, the child would transform into a savage beast, driven to rip up everything in sight until its rage was quelled by the dawn.”

The car is briefly lit up by a street lamp. Mamá turns and stares at him, eyes piercing.

“They turned into a monster and slaughtered his village. They ate flesh and bone and was not satisfied until the sun rose three nights later and they were left steeped in blood and horror.”

Jack’s nails dig into the palm of his hand and he makes sure to hide the pain, keeping his breaths even, holding her gaze.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispers, hoping he doesn’t sound as terrified as he feels.

Mamá doesn’t react for a beat, and Jack knows he’s missing something in her expression that’s supposed to tell him why. He doesn’t understand. Then she blinks and turns back to watching the road as if she said nothing. He’s left to sit in oppressive silence until she speaks again. Quietly, casually, forcefully.

“When he was alive—“ she begins, then abruptly changes her mind. “Learn from it.” She says nothing else.

Jack looks out the window, face hidden from Mamá’s view by the suitcase in his lap, and doesn’t sleep until exhaustion claims him sometime well into the morning when he can just start to make out the outlines of roadkill by the asphalt. He dreams of drinking moonlight and blood red stones and transformations in shadows and mornings filled with fear.

They arrive in Oaxaca around mid morning and it’s a whirlwind from there. Driving through the city, it’s nothing like Guadalajara. It’s older, with narrow cobbled streets and virtually no sidewalks, all small colorful buildings that have the charm of age and a need for a fresh coat of paint. There’s fewer tourists and fewer cars and fewer familiar sights. It’s nothing Jack isn’t used to, not with the constant monthly moves they did for so long. It became so constant he started waking up just before midnight every full moon and anticipating Mamá bursting into their room and rushing them out with suitcases they never even unpacked, the only picture that ever mattered clutched tightly in her hand, Lissa’s hand in the other. Jack always just trailed behind them.

The event (a family reunion or whatever it is), is being held at an event hall that looks like it was used for a wedding just a few hours prior. There are still pink rose petals scattered across the floor and plates of half eaten cake in the trash. And it’s absolutely brimming with people. They’re spilling out of the front entrance and on the covered patio out front, all conversations and laughing and smiling and reminiscing on stories and history Jack doesn’t know and never will. It’s too much.

“Mamá,” he whispers as she finally puts their sadly sputtering car into park. He looks out the window and then back at her. “There’s too many people.”

She furrows her eyebrows and follows his gaze, before grinning, her expression a little amused but mostly understanding and sympathetic as she takes his hands in hers.

“You’ll be fine mi amor.” She pulls him closer and plants a kiss on the crown of his head. “Mi caballero.”

It’s moments like these that make the terrifying tales and the dead stares and the constant moves worth it. When she strokes the back of his head and smiles at him with all love. It’s always all love, but there’s sometimes—oftentimes—something… solemn, almost paralyzed underneath.

“And if it’s too much,” she continues while unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching back to shake his sister awake, “for either you or Analissa, just tell me and I’ll cover for you.”

Jack smiles and launches himself over the center console to grab Mamá’s face and kiss her cheek. “I love you.”

She’s stunned for a beat, but then laughs bright and loud and shakes her head. “Yes I know, I love you too. Now get out.”

He does as he’s told, with a deep breath and quick mental pep talk, shielding his eyes against the sun as he pushes open the door. He’s been hidden from it for the almost fourteen hour ride, and now it rolls in waves over his skin, a gentle caress of warmth. Jack lowers his hand with a deep sigh and smiles into the sunbeams.

“You must be Laura’s boy,” an unfamiliar voice says.

Bliss flees, chased out by anxiety as Jack blinks away the multicolored dots littered across his vision and turns to whoever’s talking. It’s a woman in a dress that looks like wildflowers, a wide sun hat keeping her shaded. She takes him in, then pastes a smile on her face and presents him a gloved hand.

“Maria Rodriguez,” she says, “your cousin.”

“Uh, Jack—“

“I know.” She grips his hand hard mid-shake, enough to make the bones in his knuckles creak, and watches him from beneath dark lashes. She takes a deep breath before letting go, and all the while her grin never falters and is never anything but sharp. Something satisfied settles as she slides her hand free. Jack quietly sighs in relief. “We’ve been waiting to meet you for so long, it’s nice to finally see you around.”

He bites back a grimace and changes it into a wavering grin. Maria’s expression ticks and she opens her mouth to speak again when Mamá sweeps up from behind with Lissa in tow and clasps a hand on Jack’s shoulder firmly. Her smile is all bite when Jack glances over at her.

“Maria, where’s your husband?” she asks, voice dripping with fake politeness.

Maria shrugs and shifts, inching back. “Dead.”

Mamá clicks her tongue, feigning pity, and looks her up and down. “Ah, I see you’re in mourning.”

A burst of laughter that almost makes Jack jump erupts from the woman. “Always.” She makes a show of adjusting her sun hat and lets the humor fall. “Funny that. Until next time.”

And she’s off, turning back into the venue and ignoring a gaggle of children that call her name as she goes. Mamá’s hand falls from Jack’s shoulder. She swipes at her forehead, face already red from the sun, and rolls a suitcase balancing a pile of extra giftbags atop in front of him.

“Who was she?” Jack asks.

“Un pinche perra,” Lissa says, reciting with her eyes closed and a small grin.

Mamá lunges out to snatch her wrist. “Analissa!”

She dances out of reach, giggling as she runs into the venue and yelling behind her, “You said it first!”

“She’s going to be the death of me…” Mamá groans while Jack tries and fails to stifle a laugh behind his hand, receiving a light slap on the back of his head for his troubles. “You both will.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Not if that Maria lady doesn’t manage it first.”

Mamá hums. “She’s—they’re all…” She trails off and levels him with a serious look. “Listen, none of these people here know you. Only you know yourself. Don’t go to the crypt when we’re here, don’t listen to anything they tell you, they always lie.”

There’s an urgency and directness in her voice that’s different from usual. It borders on desperate. Jack pinches his lips together into what he hopes is a reassuring look and wraps two of his fingers around hers. Her face softens, her shoulders ease, and it’s worth the bit of dread that’s coiled tight in his gut, the bit that gets a little tighter when he sees the edge of the photograph sticking out of her pocket.

Jack ignores it, as he does best, and shoots a lighthearted look at the suitcase. “But you brought them a car full of gifts.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s rude not to.”

“And is it rude to stay any longer than dinner?”

Now she laughs. “Just until dinner.”

By the time they finish unloading the car and enter the venue, dinner seems too far away. Jack’s met enough Gregory’s and Maria’s and Juan’s and Julia’s to fill a phone book, and he’s been asked if he “Remembers me?” followed by an inevitable “I met you when you were 1/2/3/4/5, you were so cute, you have your mother’s/father’s smile” so many times that he’s started cutting them off as soon as he hears ‘Recuerdas—’ with a swift “no, sorry,” a smile, and a quick shuffle away to the safety of the bathroom. He’s also heard enough contradictory stories about his parents that it’s become impossible to keep what he knows really happened separate from what others say.

“Your uncle Felipe and your mother always had something going on…” Tia Omira gossiped over a glass too many of wine.

“He was in a motorcycle gang, the asshole keyed my car,” Primo Julio complained.

“They met at a dance but were part of different communities,” Abuelo Hugo said, “a love that could never be.”

“Isn’t that the plot of West Side Story?” Jack asked.

Abuelo Hugo gaped. “The lack of respect from your generation…”

And so on.

Not even sitting by Mamá ends up being safe, since he’s always getting dragged into conversations with family members she very clearly does not like, and all he can do is watch them make passive aggressive comments to each other until he’s excused to go use the bathroom or eat or check on Lissa—who’s thriving commanding the other kids on how exactly to play freeze hide and seek—or any other excuse he can conjure up. It’s boring, everyone else his age was allowed to go into town because they’ve gone to every other family reunion but oh no, Jack has to stay and try and memorize every person’s name, relation to him, and short irrelevant story about what they remember about his father. And it seems like he’s the only person who doesn’t remember him at all.

Outside of the glimpses of the photo, in the mirror, in a dream.

So he finds himself doing exactly what he thought he’d be doing: nothing. He sits on the balcony overlooking the backyard, legs dangling between the bars of the railing, and tunes out the chatter of inane family drama and politics coming from the people eating at the tables behind him . He starts counting blades of grass in the yard behind the venue just to have anything to do, when the air shifts and there’s the clicking sound of heels making their way towards him. They stop beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Jack can make out black pointed toes, then knee length leather boots that lead up to a high collared dress and a small grin.

“Hello,” the person greets.

Jack blinks. “Hi.”

They tilt their head. “Jacob, is it.”

It isn’t a question. He answers regardless. “Just Jack.”

They click their tongue and their expression sours for a second so short Jack thinks he might’ve imagined it. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” He chews on his lip and musters a sheepish grin. “Enjoying the view?”

The person’s mouth quirks up, as if they don’t know how to smile, before they break out into radiant laughter that drowns out everything else. They smile at him, all teeth, eyes overly bright.

“I’m sorry,” Jack licks his lips and scratches behind his ear anxiously, “who—“

“—are you supposed to be?” they finish, then shrug. “Lupe. Your…” they grin, “abuel, of sorts.”

Abuel they say, yet their face is absent of wrinkles or any signs of aging, besides the light circles under their eyes that speak of a night or two without sleep. Jack frowns.

“Not to be rude,” he prefaces before adding, “but you look more like a cousin.”

Lupe’s eyes widen briefly before they burst out laughing again. They lean forward against the railing and point back inside at Abuela Imelda, who’s hunched over at a table where people are shouting questions at her. Jack’s heard she either responds to them the next year, or doesn’t seem to hear them at all.

“I’m older than her,” Abuel Lupe says, then straightens and clasps their hands behind their back, “but it’s just Lupe. Call me Abuel Lupe and I’ll hunt you for sport.”

There’s a look in their eyes that says they aren’t joking. Jack worries his lip for a moment before making to stand.

“Don’t move,” they command and he does as he’s told. They look behind them at the rest of the party, then move to sit beside him. “You seem to be having fun.”

Jack scoffs. “Are we really related?”

“We are. Paternally, directly.”

“How come no one here knows you then?”

They rock their head side to side for a second. “I know everyone here. Only a few know about me.”

“Why?”

“I knew your father.”

Jack huffs at the immediate topic change and draws his knees to his chest, resting his chin atop them. “You and everyone else,” he mumbles.

Lupe raises an eyebrow and narrows their eyes. “You’ve heard enough stories about him then.”

“No it’s not that I just…” Everyone knew him better than me. “I’d rather hear about something else.”

There’s a long pause, where the only sounds are the draw of breaths and the muffled chatter spilling out from inside. Jack’s attention is inexplicably drawn to Lupe, who stares intently at him in a way that makes his blood run a little colder. He fights the urge to move away.

“You are sixteen, no?” Jack nods. “I will tell you a story.”

They spread their palms flat over their knees.

“Long ago, after los conquistadors first came, there was a child. They lived with their father low in a valley, far from the village. The child wished to visit the village, but their father said no. He told them he was keeping the world safe, keeping them safe from the world, that he loved them very much but would not let them leave.” They hold up a finger. “Only one of those things was true.”

Jack chews on the inside of his cheek hard enough he tastes iron. “Which one?”

Lupe holds his gaze for a beat before curling their finger into a fist and lowering it back to their side. They shift, for the first time in what seems like ages since they sat, and begin to drum their fingers to a silent rhythm. A death march. They look at the yard, still buzzing with kids, and Jack does the same.

“The child grew and on their eighteenth birthday, they snuck down to the village, away from their father, and lived. For the first time in…” their eyebrows pinch, then smooth, “ever.” They sigh and lightly run their fingers down the bars of the railing. “The next day the moon was full and the village decimated, the blood on the child’s hands. Face. Teeth. In their belly.”

Lupe brushes their fingers along their throat. “Until they choked and coughed in disgust and a river of red poured from their mouth and swept away what was left.”

[And they returned home, five nights after the third, blood still caked under their fingernails and dripping from their tongue, terror clinging to every part of their body. It was still dark. The moon was gone but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

The door creaked open when they pushed and they took one step inside and saw Father, sitting in a chair facing the door, a sword in his hand. It was carved from silver and glinted faintly in the shallow morning light. He looked up, eyes shadowed. He saw them. Clutched the hilt tighter and tighter until his hands shook and bled. They watched.

Father raised the sword, and asked, ‘What are you?’

A shadow in the doorway, they answered. ‘I don’t know.’]

Lissa tells Mamá she wants to go into town, so after a bit of arguing and bartering and promising “No I will not get into a fight with the other kids if they aren’t being pinche—“

“Analissa!”

…promising they will not get into any trouble and Jack will accompany her and they must be back before dinner, she lets them go.

“Thank you for asking for me,” Jack says as soon as they make it out of the venue and start making their way up the road to the town square.

“It’s fine, I wanted to go too, and you looked depressed.”

He forces himself to smile and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide how they shake. “I was fine.”

Lissa hums, unconvinced. “Right because fine entails staying in the bathroom for hours.”

“It wasn’t that long.”

It wasn’t. He ran in there, caught the breath that didn’t want to fill his lungs, gripped the counter until he thought he’d either break his hands or the sink, and bit his knuckles. All with the faucet on, so no one could hear whatever moment he was having after Lupe left. He’d timed it. Only 20 minutes of keeping his heart from pounding to a stop and sheer panic.

“It was only a few minutes,” he continues, then slows so his sister can skip in front of him, “and you were busy being a tyrant.”

She spins indignantly. “Hey! I asked if anyone wanted to take charge and the one kid that did lost the arm wrestle against me.” She brushes dirt off the skirt of her dress and smiles. “I’d say that was fair.”

Jack snorts. “Anyway, Mamá wouldn’t let me go to town if I asked.”

Lissa makes a face, then slows to his side when they come upon the path that’s apparently supposed to lead them there.

“Yeah she’s funny with that.”

Jack sighs. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh but once you turn eighteen you can do whatever you want!”

Once you turn eighteen–

Jack shakes away the fear that’s lodged itself in his throat and grins around it.

“Y-you just want someone to take you places,” he forces out and hopes not that Lissa won’t notice, because she always does, but that she’ll let it drop.

And she does, with a tick of her eyebrow and the ghost of a frown. Before it can settle, she spots something beyond his shoulder and starts tugging him off the trail, back in the direction of the venue.

“Lissa, I don’t think this is the way to the city,” he tells her uneasily, trying to remember where they’re going so they can find their way back.

She nods. “It isn’t, but I was talking to some kids earlier and they said the crypt is nearby.”

“The crypt?” The only place Mamá told them not to go. “I don’t—“

“Our entire family is buried down there! And maybe if we look hard enough, we can find Papá and—“

“Lissa!”

She stops and spins to look at him. Jack huffs and pulls his hand free, putting it on her shoulder and frowning. “Mamá told us specifically not to go there.”

“Yes she did.”

“And?”

“…and?”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Look, I know you’re used to doing whatever you want and getting away with it—“

“I am not!”

“—but I was left in charge here. And if she finds out that I took you to the crypt after she explicitly told us not to…” He rubs the back of his neck and tries to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “I’d rather we not tempt fate.”

Lissa furrows her eyebrows and, after a second, her expression softens and understanding no twelve year old should have sweeps over her face, before it’s quickly colored by rebellion.

“Isn’t that what it’s all about? Tempting fate?” Her stern look twitches to something mischievous. “Or are you going to live behind Mamá’s skirt your whole life?”

Only in the shadow of a photograph, moonlight, standing in the doorway, in Mamá’s and every adults’ eyes.

He gives her a flat look and groans when she doesn’t crack because she knows he will.

“Fine! Fine, lead the way.”

And she does, quietly, confidently, and so well Jack starts to wonder if she can actually sniff places out, or if she just has zero cares in the world. Probably both.

When they stumble upon the entrance to the crypt, they find it’s half buried underground, only a small section open that someone would have to get down on all fours to crawl through into what looks like pure darkness. Basically, ‘do not enter’ is written on the doorway in bright red paint. With the added bonus of what looks like actual blood on some of the stones constructing it and lightly splashed over the Rosillo family name engraved in the stone across the top. They crouch by the entrance and peer inside.

“Should we?” Lissa whispers.

Jack hums and moves his lips side to side as he thinks. “I don’t know. Is it a bad idea?”

“Probably.”

“…let’s do it.”

Lissa starts moving to jump but Jack second guesses his probably idiotic response and grabs her arm before she can throw herself headfirst into a dark, suspicious tunnel that might lead to hell or something.

“Wait wait. I’ll go first.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You. Really?”

“What! You don’t think I’d survive?”

“No.”

Ignoring her offensive comment, Jack rolls his eyes and pushes her back. “Ok listen, I’ll go down and if I don’t respond in ten minutes, you go get someone for help.”

“You mean I can go down and find you.”

“Let’s pretend you’ll listen to me for once? Please?”

She laughs and it feels good to hear. She hooks her pinky around his and nods.

“Ok alright. Don’t die.”

Jack wraps her in a hug and tries not to make it too tight, too desperate. But she knows, she always does, and hugs him back equally fiercely. He pulls away and messes with her hair.

“I won’t.”

He salutes her before he starts crawling through the opening. There’s light inside, just enough that he can make out the slope of loose rocks that lead down from the opening just as he looses his balance. Suddenly, he’s tumbling down and landing flat on his back, pelted by some falling rocks from the pile.

“Are you alive?!” Lissa yells down into the crypt and it reverberates too loud and worsens whatever headache he can feel coming on.

Jack groans and rolls onto his side, the bruises already making themselves known. “Yeah,” he shouts back, then mumbles, “painfully.”

“That was quite the fall.”

Jack yelps and leaps to his feet, stumbling back and falling over, again, back onto the pile of rocks. It hurts just as much as before, but now he’s stuck in a small enclosed area with a mystery man who’s standing not that far away from him,with no way of escape. Pain is about the last thing in his mind.

“Jack!” Lissa shouts.

The man presents his palms, but it’s hard to make out his face with just the light coming from the hallway. He says something incomprehensible while Jack blinks, disoriented, and stares for probably too long.

The man seems to catch his mistake and shifts to perfect, albeit heavily accented, Spanish. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you don’t speak English.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asks, wrapping his hand around a stone and clutching it tightly.

The man sees the motion and inches backwards a bit, keeping his hands up. “I could ask you the same thing, kid. You just broke into my family’s crypt.”

Jack wrinkles his nose and takes in said crypt. The walls are made of stone, arching in and poorly lit by sparse torches along the walls. There’s a single hallway of coffins on both sides. It’s… normal. Jack isn’t sure what he was expecting.

He turns his attention back to the man. “Technically the entrance was open, I just walked in. And this is my family’s crypt. So who are you?”

The man cocks his head a bit, like he’s listening for something, then tilts it up like he’s… sniffing the air? Jack’s probably just imagining things.

“Philip Russell.”

Jack raises an eyebrow and pushes himself to his feet, with a bit of effort and moves further into the crypt but stays away from Philip. “Who?”

“Uh, Felipe. Sorry, I know our family can be a bit…” he trails off and shrugs, “funny with names.”

That rings some bells. A memory of a letter from someone, Philip written on the shredded envelope and Sinceramente, Felipe at the very bottom of the page. Mamá would always scoff and toss it out with the rest of the trash.

Philip points. “And you’re—“

“Jack!!” Lissa yells again.

Jack sighs and hums. Philip nods. “Right.”

Philip moves slightly, just enough so the light shines on his face and he looks… like Jack. Or, more like Lissa, but she always took more after their father, apparently. Dark features, some height for her age, an expression like they always know what you mean because Lissa always does. He looks like family. Jack doesn’t drop the rock. Philip notices.

“I’m not gonna kill you kid,” he says lightheartedly, “and I think you would’ve done a good enough job of that, braining yourself on those rocks.”

As if on cue, Lissa comes falling down into the crypt, prompting Jack to go and help her.

“Like that,” Philip says from behind.

Once she’s up and has dusted off her dress, Lissa squints and points accusingly at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Lissa,” Jack groans and rubs his eyes. “Whatever happened to staying outside and going for help?”

She shrugs, a little too nonchalantly for potentially being stuck in the crypt with someone who’s relation to them they still don’t know. “You’re really turning into Mamá now.”

“Wow, wait you’re Gregory’s kids?” he exclaims, then claps excitedly. “You’re both so grown! I’m your tío, I met you both when you were, hm what was it a decade ago?”

“When I was six,” Jack supplies tiredly.

“Yeah! Gosh you were both so cute. Do you remember me?” He smiles and holds out his hands but they both just stare. He sighs and relents. “You look like you have questions.”

“I don’t—“

“Why are you American?” Lissa blurts out.

Philip reels back, then barks out a startled laugh. “I’m as American as you.”

“So… not at all?” She continues. Jack pinches her arm and shoots her a look, but Philip’s already answering.

“Hm, depends on who you ask, when you ask it, and how you do the asking. But is Mexico not in the Americas? What are they teaching you in school these days…”

She flushes and huffs. “It is. I meant—“

“I know, kid. I moved there. Hm, really my family moved there when I was young. Hence why our last name is Russell, not Rosillo. Made it easier to find work and all. It was me, my parents, my… older brother.”

Their father, Jack can fill in. “Why are you here?”

Philip raises his eyebrows and looks over his shoulder, at the end of the hall where it’s especially well lit. “To honor our ancestors. The same reason why I assume you're here, despite Laura definitely telling you to stay away.”

Jack cringes. “How’d you know?”

“Some things never change. Your mother is no different.”

He knows that. Too well.

Lissa leans out and stumbles forward, squinting at the light. “What’s down there?”

Philip follows her gaze. “Your father.”

“Really?!”

“In a way.” He beckons them on and they follow, Jack leading with Lissa close behind him.

They walk to the end of the hallway, past walls lined with coffin upon coffin, different names and remembrances carved beneath each slot they’re slid into. Some of the coffins shake along the way, some bang. Lissa jumps; Jack tries very hard to stay calm.

“Is that normal?” He asks, pointing at one of the shaking coffins.

Philip stops and glances at it. “The dead sometimes become restless.”

Lissa inches closer to one and reaches out. “Sh-shouldn’t we let them out—?”

Her hand is snatched away before her fingertips can grace the edge of the coffin. Philip lets her go as fast as he grabbed her and says, flatly: “The dead are dead for a reason. They are meant to stay that way.”

He continues on, but it’s nearly impossible to not hear the shaking and banging, the echoing sounds compounding into screams. Jack doesn’t think of it that way. He doesn’t.

They come to a stop at the end of the hall, before a statue of a saint, hooded, face covered, head bowed, and holding a bowl half filled with water dripping from the ceiling. Gregory Russell is inscribed at the base of it, along with several other names that look centuries older. Jack looks back at the face of the statue. It’s crying.

“You know, I knew your mom before your dad met her,” Philip continues.

Jack balks. “Really?”

“Ah well. Laura and I go… way back. But your dad was a better fit for her. A bit less… wild, I guess.”

Lissa snorts but it’s halfhearted. She keeps looking behind her, at the now still, quiet coffins. “You do seem pretty boring.”

Philip chuckles again, tight. “Anyone told you you look just like your dad?”

“Only when I’m here.” She looks more intently at the name that Jack’s been staring at, crouches down and traces the loops and letters with her fingers. “Do you know what happened to our father?”

“You don’t know?”

Jack answers for them. “No.”

Philip sucks in a breath and mutters something too low to hear that sounds like a countdown from two before he drags a hand over his face and sighs. “I’ll tell you a story.”

“Please no, I’ve heard…” Jack digs his nails into his palms and forces himself calm again, “I’ve heard enough.”

But everyone seems intent on telling him every tale without actually saying anything. Philip gives him a long look and his face hardens. “If you’re saying that then you haven’t. You have to know. You have to remember.”

He wets his lips and glances at the statue, then back at Jack before straightening and inhaling deeply.

“There were two brothers. Think of them like Cain and Abel.”

“You’re telling us Cain and Abel?” Lissa drawled.

“Listen,” he snaps with more than a little fury and frustration, with a lot of fear. Lissa grips Jack’s hand harder. “They fought over everything. Money, authority, women. Birthright. Until one day, something changed. The eldest he—“ He shakes his head. “He killed someone. He nearly killed the younger brother. He had him inches within death and then…”

Jack swallows hard. “What stopped him?”

“…I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The crypt is too big, too stagnant. The air smells like iron, rust drips down the walls in cascades of red. The statue sobs.

“What happened next? To the older brother.”

[He ran and ran and by the time morning beamed upon the land and he’d found shelter he was done running, but he could not stop. The eldest brother would continue running until the breath left his lungs, replaced with moonlight that he never drank but was forced to carry in his blood, in his heart. Replaced with that upon which he would gasp and choke, and die.]

“He died.”

The crypt is too small, too narrow. The air feels like ice and it burns his skin. The statue wails.

“A-and the younger?”

[Three shots rang out and by the time he turned back, by the time he got there, all that was left of the elder sibling, whatever he’d become, was a pool of blood seeping between the cobblestones and staining the street. And the casings of three silver bullets.]

“Never saw him again.”

They walk back in silence. Somewhere along the way Lissa gets tired, so Jack wordlessly crouches so he can carry her on his back, where she fights hard not to doze off but inevitably loses the battle. They make it back well into dinner and the look on Mamá’s face as they walk in, covered in dirt and sweat and twenty minutes late, is everything and nothing like he could’ve imagined. She doesn’t react, not like how she’d be expected to. There’s no yelling and stomping or even a change in her expression. She keeps smiling after hearing whatever joke someone just told her and holds it while she pins him with a stare.

She’s furious. Jack knows.

She excuses herself when he goes to put Lissa down on the sofa, letting her yank his arm and drag him outside, well away from the venue and windows, into a dimly lit shed that’s too cramped for two people. Her voice is too loud, the light hurts Jack’s eyes, and his head hurts almost as much as his chest does. It’s hard to breathe.

“Where the hell were you?” she hisses, low and steady. “Don’t lie.”

He wasn’t planning on it, but that makes fire rise from his feet past his heart to his mouth.

“The crypt,” he spits, “that’s where.”

“I told you—“

“I know what you said but you never told me why and I…” He tempers himself a little, tries to stay calm. “I spoke to Tío Philip.”

Her expression darkens, mouth tight. “Felipe.”

He stops his face from twisting. “He told me about my father, and—“

“You had no reason to speak to him.”

“It’s not like you would tell me anything. And everyone here just recalls these-these stories and half of them are lies and the other half are—“

‘What are you?’

He clamps his mouth shut and moves to wipe the sweat off his face when Mamá grabs a hold of his wrist.

“What do you want to hear?” she snaps. “That he was shot dead in the street like an animal? That we couldn’t have a funeral because they stole his body? That your family acts like nothing happened when it was their fault, when it will be their fault?! He’s dead, Jacob, let him rest.”

Jack rips his arm out of her grip and moves back to brace himself against the table and lets the anger speak. “You’re allowed to have a picture but I can’t even get one solid memory? Everyone here tells me stories Mamá, you tell me stories, but I don’t know what’s real—“

She shakes her head and mumbles, “They’re all real and none of them are.”

“I don’t understand!”

“You aren’t meant to! For God’s sake you are a child, you don’t need to—“

“Don’t you see that I do! I—I don’t know who I’m supposed to be… I don’t get it, you don’t—you don’t treat Lissa like this.”

Mamá’s face goes flat. She shakes her head more fervently and her voice wavers almost as much, her tone pressing. “She’s not the same, she isn’t— you are my first born. You are nearly eighteen. Do you understand what that means?”

Jack groans, “I don’t! I don’t and everyone keeps telling me I should but no one will tell me why. Why Mamá? Why are we here? Why—why can’t I go down to the crypt or talk to Lupe? Why—“

She yells then. “Because I said so! Because I’m trying to keep you safe and you seem intent on doing everything in your power to get yourself killed!”

Like your father.

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to. She still clamps a hand over her mouth as if she did. She shuts her eyes against the tears that are shed regardless and she falls to her knees at his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” she mutters between sobs, grabbing his hands. “Forgive me please forgive me.”

“…Ok.”

She wipes her face with her dress and looks up at him, face still shiny. She pleads. “Let’s leave, let’s… Let’s leave.”

“…Ok.”

They leave Oaxaca before the main course, after awkward goodbyes to family members Jack will probably forget again and whose names he won’t care to remember.

“I’ll see you soon,” Lupe tells him, grabbing his hand loosely but stopping him in his tracks. They sit at the head of the table, but no one looks their way. They let him go with a grin. “Vaya con Dios.”

He tries not to run.

Mamá drives, even if she’s been awake for almost twenty hours. She slips behind the wheel and starts the car without a word. Jack puts Lissa in the back, now clear of things, and she hardly stirs, only mumbling once to dreamily ask if it’s Christmas yet. He tells her no and sets his jacket over her, then sits in the passenger seat. He looks out the window and watches them pull away, the venue growing smaller and dimmer, its warm glowing lights making the stark white walls seem inviting, before eventually, it disappears around a corner, hidden by trees. The road blurs by, everything blends into itself, and with the moon out of sight, out of mind, Jack drifts.

He wakes twice. The first time still feels like a half-dream he can’t remember. He’s leaning against the door, the top of his head pressed to the window and neck aching. Someone is singing.

“Hoy me tengo que ir mi amor…”

It’s familiar. It’s warm, it’s bright. It’s a weight on the edge of his bed, hands tucking him in, his name. It’s Jack, mi hijo. It’s a face, a smile. Not Mamá’s, it’s... Memories that fade just as suddenly as he remembers. And a song, a lullaby.

“A solas yo te cantaré soñando en regresar.”

The second time is more solid. The car is stopped, he’s lying on the center console, and there’s a hand, fingers running through his hair. Gently, easily. Whispers of apologies and quiet cries that trail off into silence. Mamá falls asleep. Jack stays awake.

Something pokes his shoulder. He carefully shifts to look behind him at Lissa, on her knees in the backseat, crouched low.

“Hey,” she says.

He exhales quietly.

“Is Mamá asleep?”

He blinks and carefully nods.

She points outside. “Can we?”

He chews on his lip, closes his eyes, musters the courage, and nods again. Once Lissa’s climbed out and up onto the roof of the car, Jack carefully moves Mamá’s hand from his head and places it in her lap. He looks at her for a beat. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, her eyes red. The picture of his father is held loosely in her other hand. Jack reaches in the backseat for his jacket and drapes it over her. Before he gets out, he presses a kiss to her temple.

“Took you long enough,” Lissa grins once he’s settled beside her.

He runs his tongue across his teeth and nods.

She scoots closer. “Are you ok?”

Yes, he wants to say. But he looks up and there the moon is. Waning. And it should be comforting, that it isn’t full, that’s it’s not a spotlight shining only and directly on him. But—

Moonlight.

He shuts his eyes and hopes it’s dark enough that he can pretend there aren’t any tears, that there’s nothing wrong because there isn’t. There isn’t.

“No.”

Lissa throws her arms around him and he buries his head in her shoulder and, for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels safe.

She falls asleep and just before he does, he carries her back inside the car and settles in the backseat, with her on his lap and Mamá still settled in the front. Then, he closes his eyes.

And he dreams. Of a shoreline, where the sun sits low but time feels wrong. There’s no pull of moonlight, no force making his bones shiver and ache. But the comfort of sunshine is a faded memory and he’s stuck in limbo between the two. Someone whispers behind him, words he doesn’t want to understand so he keeps looking at the sea and wishing, praying for anything but night, for anyone who’ll listen, but it doesn’t come. What comes instead is her voice.

Jack, she says, and he glances up to see her, wading through the water to him. Jack.

Her fingertips ghost along his cheekbone, tracing the outline of him, reminding him. To focus. To remember.

To change.

The sun is up far before him, already moving across the sky, stretched and spread comfortably above. Not dusk, not dawn. Morning.

#werewolf by night #jack russell #lissa russell #yea yea sometimes i write #cw panic attack #cw horror elements #WOOO YES FINALLY ITS DONE GRACIAS DIOS #god i swear i've been writing this shit forever #i liked writing it it was fun #had to cut out so many extra scenes because i would've just been writing a whole ass book #i cut a longer car ride at the begining. an extended interaction with lupe. jack and lissa and some random kids walking arond town #uhh just some quirky lines with philip and a dinner scene #AND ITS STILL 8K+ WORDS I CRY

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