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sunlightmurdock · 25 days

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AETERNA | Prologue

SYNOPSIS: WHAT’S THE USE IN MAKING PLANS? IT’S ALL INEVITABLE ANYWAY.

WORD COUNT: 2550

MASTERLIST

MOODBOARD

PLAYLIST

quick lil a/n: this isn’t an OC fic, audrey will just be a recurring character who is mentioned through the fic and this spooky lil prologue is her origin story I guess 🫶 we meet reader in chapter 1

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Audrey Weiss began her last morning the way that most people do: unknowingly. Unknowing in the sense that it was the last time she would bark at her sister to get out of the bathroom, or sigh too loudly when her mother asked her to take the trash out.

Mere weeks from graduation, her focus should have been college in the fall and summer trips and prom. Instead, she was thinking much shorter term — simply of her plans for that evening.

She had ducked out of her parents’ three-bed ranch style in the middle of Saturday morning breakfast, headed for the indubitably more important venture of tackling La Mesa Shopping Mall with her best friend, Suzie Clarke. Once Girl Scouts together, Audrey and Susanne were attached at the hip even now that they were all grown.

Suzie Clarke was the first person the police would speak to the next day, after Audrey was reported missing.

Exactly three weeks and four days from her high school graduation, big things were on the horizon for Audrey. She had been accepted into some pretty good schools for that fall, but her pick was Mount Holyoke — she was going to be a lawyer.

At the mall, she had found the most gorgeous jumpsuit. A peach color that made her brown hair look like pure silk with a crochet floral middle and bell bottoms that made her legs look a mile long. Something awful grown-up for a girl like Audie, but that was the point.

Then, back home, she had considered leaving her large, round wire-framed glasses on their vanity. They made her eyes look ten times bigger and unnatural, and her mouth look small — but she probably wouldn’t look too stellar if she couldn’t see either. These opinions were her own, formed by middle school boys from years passed.

To her baby sister, her glasses made Audie look awfully smart. There’s an old People magazine in their mother’s dresser that shows Barbara Streisand in a dark-framed pair of eyeglasses; Audie could look just like that if she combed her hair a bit.

To make matters worse after deciding that her glasses would make the cut, before she could make it to the safety of Stacy’s car, Audie’s mother had forced a denim jacket over her shoulders and told her to mind the weather. Like it was ever that cold around there.

Still, Audrey’s confidence was unwavered. She looked dynamite in her new jumpsuit, and four weeks into the long stretch that eighteen years old was supposed to be, she looked grown-up for the very first time, even with the glasses.

For the sixth time since March Third, 1977, Audrey Weiss bought a ticket and visited the circus on the outskirts of her hometown.

Santa Paloma, Arizona, was a safe place and only a stone’s throw from Phoenix. It had a movie theater and a couple of arcades, plenty of playgrounds, and a roller rink. Still, Audrey wasn’t interested in hanging out at any of those places.

No, she had her sights set bigger. Older. She wanted more than the other girls her age. Maybe if the boys her age had been kinder, this wouldn’t have been the case.

That’s why she was here, and why this sixth visit was going to be special; she had met a guy. In her killer new jumpsuit, with her hair done like Farah Fawcett, and her Mom’s lipstick coating her lips — her mind was all made up, tonight was the night that she was going to make her move.

Restless in every sense of the word, Audrey had lept out from the backseat of Stacy’s bubblegum blue MGB roadster first, her heart aflutter and her friends in tow. The late April sky was ablaze, orange and pink. It was quite the send off.

Children laughing and screaming, Audrey knew her way around the circus attractions well by now. She bid her friends goodbye with knowingly exchanged giggles, and started to walk. They had discussed Audrey’s plan in great detail by the point of its execution.

Brown leather sandals, barely leaving footprints across red dirt; she was gentle like that. Neon lights surrounding her, she passes by the carousel where she had first seen the man of her dreams for the last time. Its chimes sing her a goodbye as she disappears deeper into the Friday night bustle.

Eager, grinning faces surround her in a blur as Audrey strolls down the midway. A nervous, fast-feeling energy buzzes through her trembling limbs. The ring toss to her right, the shooting game to her left, her sights set straight ahead.

She had been too nervous to pick at the meatloaf her mother had made, and the air had smelled of warm popcorn and sugar. Her stomach growled, leaving no room for butterflies.

Amidst the epic orange and pink, the sky threatened to grow dark behind the looming, spinning ferris wheel.

Audrey left behind the painted faces and the smiles, the smell of sugar and the sound of shrieking laughter. Echoes of the excitement rang out behind her as she left it all behind. Her destination was beyond the fair, behind one of the big, red and white glossed storage trucks. Even in her killer new jumpsuit, Audrey had gone unnoticed.

One confident foot in front of the other, she squared her shoulders like the older girls do and kicked through that soft red dirt. Weaving between caravans, campers and trailers, restlessly brushing her hair back off of her shoulders and bringing it back in place.

A familiar whistled tune guided her where she intended to go.

Jake can usually be found whistling an Elvis tune.

His shirt slung over his shoulder, he passed between the lodgings coolly, headed to his camper to prepare for the show. Maybe he heard her coming, maybe he saw her feet under the caravans. By the time Audrey had rounded the corner, he had stopped and was staring at her.

He animated again, after a moment of static.

Jake was the star of the show, and to Audrey Weiss on that night in particular, he was just about the center of the universe. Tall, and gorgeous, with a strong jaw and a long, straight nose. Blond hair and golden skin, and green eyes. Muscles like something out of a comic book.

And despite being all of those things, Jake was nice, too.

“Hey, Aud-Ball.” Like odd-ball. But his way of teasing her wasn’t cruel like everyone else’s. He shot her a cool grin, his broad shoulders making his white tank stretch taught as he passed by her with no intention of stopping for a chat; again, in the kindest way. “You lost?”

This was far from their first conversation, but it was the first time she had gotten brave like this. There are signs all over the place saying staff quarters are off limits. She shouldn’t have been back there. She should have waited until after the show — Jake always came out to hang out front after the show was done, she could have found him then.

“No,” She wavered. A pit in her stomach and a lump in her throat, she looked down at the dirt and her glasses slipped a bit on the bridge of her nose. “I… wanted to see you.”

Jake can be real friendly. Too friendly, if you were to ask some of the folks around camp. Too friendly with ladies sometimes, too. That’s not what this was. When Audrey showed up for the second weekend, after Jake had complimented her glasses and told her she was funny — he had known she needed a friend. That’s all.

He played dumb.

“What for?” He stopped by the door of his trailer and took a moment to look at her. A slight heel to her sandals, a brand-new outfit, and magazine-worthy hair. He knew exactly what for.

She kicked and toed at the dirt, her eyes on the ground in a sheepish manner that tarnished all that work she had put into looking grown-up. “… I dunno.”

He looked behind her, and then around the two of them. The bustle of the fair sounded so far away. His grin settled into something friendly, but detached. The kind of look you get from a waiter when it comes time to decide on how much to tip.

“You lose your friends?” She never came alone. She had come with her parents that first weekend. She had looked so sad.

“No.” In her kicking and toeing at the ground, Audrey had wandered a bit closer to him. Close enough that he could smell her mother’s perfume on her neck, because she thought it was more mature than her own.

He took his shirt from his shoulder and wrung it in his hands, bootprints in the mud as he put some distance between the two of them. “Look, you know you’re not supposed to be back here. House rules.”

She looked up at him through those big glasses.

“Well, I mean—“

“Really. You should go.” He said more firmly. He was looking at her differently. The kindness in his eyes was gone and all that’s there was pity. In an instant, Audrey Weiss is crushed.

This wasn’t the first time she had been hurt by a boy. She had a tendency to read too much into things, to want things too much. There was a boy in ninth grade, he hadn’t ever liked her — she had convinced herself that he did. She had been so humiliated.

Jake watched her face crumple completely before him, and he was reminded of exactly what he saw in her that first weekend. A scared little girl with a heart full of sadness. He looked to the ground, feeling like he had knocked her to the dirt himself. She did look sweet in her new get-up.

“I’ll find you after the show.” Jake had offered.

Dejected, Audrey fiddled with the leg seam of her jumpsuit. She looked at the ground, and despite having no children, Jake got a glimpse at what it might look like if he had one to scold. She nodded her head weakly.

His lips twitched, his smile almost apologetic as he tapped at the side of his trailer and swung one foot in. “Alright.”

She presses her lips taut, staring at the indent she had toed into the dirt.

Jake hesitated by the door. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go, looking so sad. “Thanks for stoppin’ by— your hair looks killer, Audie.”

And so, Audrey had sulked back through the site and found her friends. With her being back so soon, and looking so cheesed — they hadn’t asked questions. They had bought her a coke, and taken their seats inside of the Big Top.

He said he would find her after, but to a girl like Audrey, that could mean a lot of things. Most of them were not good. As the lights dimmed and the familiar introductory drumbeat rattled out, Audrey just wanted to go home.

As he had five times before, the ringmaster burst out into the center of the area and threw his arms into the air, starting the evening with his usual speech. Audrey sipped sadly at her Coca-Cola from the stands. Jake comes on second for the first part of his act, right behind the ringmaster.

Audrey knew his routine like the back of her hand. Once again, she was not picked to be his assistant. As always, he was incredible.

At 9pm, the show had finished and the crowds were filing out. The fairground was even more abuzz than it had been earlier, the sky was a deep indigo, and Audrey really wasn’t in the mood to listen to Jake tell her that she just wasn’t his type. She wanted to be, so badly.

”I’ll pull the car around.” Stacy had told her saddened friend, already thinking that they could stop for milkshakes on the way home to cheer her up. Audrey had nodded absently, wondering where Jake had planned to find her.

“Come on, watch me hook a duck. I’ll win you something.” Suzie was Audrey’s best friend for a reason, after all. She looped her arm through Audrey’s and led her over to the attraction. She had just let go for a second, to take the pole from the attendant.

Audrey had just looked away for a moment. Well, maybe a few moments. It hadn’t felt like very long.

She stared across the sea of people, finding him in the spaces between. His eyes were settled right on hers, green and as kind as they always had been.

Standing over by the house of mirrors, Jake was wearing the same clothes he had been earlier, his shirt discarded over his right shoulder and his white tank stretched across his chest. He had gotten changed out of his show clothes quickly. Maybe he was excited to see her.

She bit at the inside of her cheek, nervous tingles making her fidget on her feet.

He straightened up, and cocked his head sharply to the side. The right side of his mouth tugged toward his ear like something was funny. He untucked his hand from his pocket, and pushed away from the support beam.

There was no goodbye, no ‘I’ll be back in a second’ — the plan was clear — Audrey hadn’t felt the need to waste time bringing her friends up to speed, that could be done in the morning. Light-footed, her brown sandals barely marked the soft dirt beneath her feet.

He had turned and reached for the door, watching her over his shoulder. Her eyes scanned across the neon red signage above him as he disappeared into the Hall of Mirrors. The door fell shut behind him.

Audrey’s heartbeat hammered like a snare drum. Her entire nervous system could keep easy pace with a Lynyrd Skynyrd record. Her dad loved those guys.

The sky darkened behind her, the metal handle cold under her palm as she opened up the door. She leaned inside, and peered around, half-way inside. “Jake?”

The halls between all the mirrors had to be lit somehow, and someone chose blood-red bulbs. Darkness in the corners of the reflections, red illuminations right through the center. Audrey took one sure-footed step inside, her mouth twitching toward a nervous smile.

She let go of her breath and smiled. Sticking her fingers out, she touched her own reflection right in front of her. Filtered red, she looked so different. Her hair really did look killer. Her glasses hadn’t ever looked that awful. She trailed her hand softly along the glass as a marker, following the whistle tune.

Butterflies tickled her tummy. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and let the door fall shut behind her, her second step less-certain. “Jake, are you in here?”

Of course he was, she had just seen him walk right in. To banish her doubts further, a whistle rings out from deeper within the maze. Unmistakably the first eight notes of Elvis’ I’ll Never Fall in Love Again — the song Audrey listened to in her bedroom when she thought of him. How incredible, that he had picked that song.

She bit at her bottom lip to keep from smiling, and called out one last time. “Jake?”

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin au #top gun: maverick au #bradley bradshaw au #aeterna #aeterna: updates

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dragontamer05 · 10 months

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Look I don't disbelieve that being out in the dead of winter, including having to bathe outside and any mounting stress caused his Asthma to flare up.

However I do think it's a missed opportunity to bring back up his previously mentioned Cat Allergy.

My boy has literally been living in close proximity to a -big- cat for several days (week? don't remember how much time had passed) at this point. Even if frequently kept in a cage/away from the others there is still likely going to be fur every where, especially considering he went into Beast's tent and hid in her trunk, which those clothes are gonna be covered in fur/dander.

Like if Sebastion's brief contact with the Tiger was enough for Ciel to want to be wary and keep his distance till he cleaned off then literally living in a close environment with said animal it's a wonder he's not at least sneezing more while there.

They could have had Sebastion asking the Doctor, after mentioning possible causes for a Asthma flare up/ to return after not having had one for several years,

"What about allergies?"

Or maybe later when Ciel tries to convince everyone he's fine now and that Obviously it was because he'd spent too much time around that Tiger, but now that they're a way from the Circus he'll be fine.

Idk do something with that

You make a point to bring up / remind us of his cat Allergy at the start of the arc and then give us Ciel having an Asthma attack but don't think to connect the two?

Especially cause right before the attack as I mentioned he was in Beast's tent, and had to hide in her trunk of clothes/stuff that any one who has a cat even if you've cleaned it there's always gonna be fur every where always.

#personally I'm sticking with his cat Allergy was a catalyst with symptoms mild at first as he did his best to avoid Beast/ the Tiger #anything that might have close contact with them #which was then only aggrevated and made worse from the clod out door bathing and stress (emotional or even physical since-#(since he was probably doing more physical activity that he may be used to / doing tasks doesn't normally do)#which finally all came together into a nasty asthma attack #black butler #I will die on this hill

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ilopisara · 6 months

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16.12. 21:08 | Ilo Pisara vs Northern Lighters 7 - 1

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, let's break down the absolute circus on ice we just witnessed. Ilo Pisara took to the rink like a swarm of bees – if bees were armed with hockey sticks and an insatiable hunger for victory. We swatted those Northern Lighters so hard they'll be seeing stars until next season! Teppo Winnipeg, our puck-moving magician, dished out assists like a blackjack dealer on double-pay Friday night but managed to stay as hitless as a broken pinata—zero body checks? Come on Teppo; even my grandmother throws her weight around more at bingo night! And Sami Noddy... well done keeping your time in the sin bin cleaner than a health inspector's handbook. Macho Fantastico lived up to his name—a two-goal tango plus assists? You're making it look easier than stealing candy from a baby holding another baby! Jani Saari was slicing through defense like hot knives through butter – four goals?! That’s not just carrying the team; that’s hoisting them up onto your shoulders while climbing Mount Everest! And Keky Masa—the guest star shining brighter than my bald spot under arena lights—powerplay prowess personified! Let this be known: after past games where we've had all the coordination of toddlers in tap shoes (I'm looking at you 3-10 Sandels debacle), tonight was redemption served colder than our rink-side beers. Keep this up Ilo Pisara because remember: when you play like legends today, tomorrow you won't have to endure me roasting you over open flames of shame!

#nhl24

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clarksville-ticketmaster · 2 years

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Anxious moments

a/n: yes! this is a circus boy fanfic, I didn’t find any online and i needed it, so i made it.

link if you wanna read it on ao3: [link]

Tim doesn't like to resort to violence.

He is a firm believer in working out a problem with words, talking until both parties reach a mutual agreement. His father had instilled the belief that it took a mature and well-tempered man to be successful. To not give in to the jeers of his brothers or the kids that tried to push him around in school.

Despite this though, Tim is more than willing to do what’s needed to protect himself and others he cared for. Sometimes a swift punch to the head has to be used to knock some sense into someone who refused to listen.

And yet, Tim finds himself wanting to do even worse at the moment to the man who lays at his feet, the consequence of a particularly hard punch from Tim.

He’s dealt with thieves before, with performers demanding more than the agreed cut for their act, or even those trying to outright steal from his Circus. Tim would let the law deal with them, let them deal with the consequences of their actions.

But not this time around.

No, they had taken things too far.

They had taken Corky.

Two wanted men had disguised themselves as clowns after somehow discovering the circus had been in need. Joey's troop was down a pair since their contract had ended, they'd put on a convincing act and he'd agreed to take them in. His first mistake.

His second was leaving Corky alone with them.

It had taken an hour, ignoring the police’s warnings to stay put. He couldn't sit back, not with every minute passing by mounting more and more worry onto him, almost making him physically sick to the core.

As soon as Corky hugs Tim, he lifts him into his arms, cradling the back of his head as the boy sobs into his shoulder.

"Oh, Corky…" he soothes him. He's no Joey, but he rocks him in his arms. Corky keeps crying, but he buries his head into his neck and holds his jacket tight as Tim walks out of the little rundown shack.

There's a crate, which he sits him gently on to check him over. Corky hiccups and Tim cups his cheeks gently. Nothing but a scraped knee, which he'll deal with later when he's safe in their trailer.

The town's policemen arrive minutes later, and they haul the dazed man to his feet, his partner still on the ground. Tim will deal with them later. Corky is the most important thing right now.

On the ride back, Corky clings to his arm, only letting go when a relieved Joey opens his arms. Tim only blinks when he gets pulled in by his shirt, a kiss pressed to his lips in gratitude. He finds himself unable to ask anything as Joey takes Corky to their trailer to clean him up.

Tim enters the shared trailer later, a paper bag in hand, smiling when he sees the pair.

"I managed to convince the cook to whip up some chocolate chips for you," he tells Corky.

Well, not exactly convinced , he had barely begun to ask when John, their head cook, had started to grab his ingredients. Everyone cared for Corky at the circus, and they had all been incredibly worried when they couldn't find him.

Tim handed him the still warm bag and Corky lit up, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Champion." Corky grins, still so polite even after everything that had happened today. Joey had raised him well.

"How's that knee treating you?" Tim asks.

Joey answers for him, as Corky is already stuffing his face, "It’s alright, bandaged it up, should be fine in a couple days.” His voice is soft as he speaks and Corky nods along as if to confirm it.

"...Thank you, by the way," Joey tells him later, once Corky is put to bed.

"What for?" Tim asks and Joey just gives a soft chuckle.

"What else? For saving Corky," Joey goes on, "I think I just about lost my mind when I found out he wasn't here with me, you kept a cool head and found him," he rubs his eyes, obviously tired. "I just felt useless."

Tim gives him a smile, patting his shoulder in reassurance, and his hand stays there.

"You were worried, like any parent would be," Tim says. "Besides, if you had found them first, there wouldn't be much of anything left for the cops to handle."

Joey smiles. They sit in comfortable silence before Tim stands up, grabbing his hat.

"Well, I should get going," he starts. "We still have that show tomorrow if you're up to performing."

"I always am," Joey says as he goes to send him off. Tim opens the door, pausing before stepping out.

"Good night," he says.

"Good night," Joey echoes with the same smile.

Tim closes the door behind him

#a little bit of drama #circus boy #i tagged it circus boy 1956 to start yknow #tags #i dunno what else to tag this

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

"You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

"Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

"You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

"Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

"You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

"It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

"Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

"Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

"You bet your fur."

The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

Fuck, he really had it bad.

How pathetic he was.

Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

He is here, he realized.

Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

Y/n...

Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

"Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

"The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

"Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

"So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

"Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

"I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

"Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

"This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

"Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

How could she be saying these things?

He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

"Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

"F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

"He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

"It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

"You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

And it did.

Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

"Richie! Richie?"

It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

"Richie?!"

When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

It tore her apart.

She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

All she felt now was fear for Richie.

Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

"I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

"I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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nerdasaurus1200 · 3 years

Text

Some Corona horse headcanons

The official name for the horses is the Equestrian Corona Guard

Achilles is the oldest. He was Cap’s horse before Maximus, but during the events of the movie and season 1 he’s recovering from a bad hoof injury

Said hoof injury happened when Cass had to let someone else groom the horses for a day, but the guy messed up and ended up chipping a hoof. Cass was so pissed that she actually managed to get him fired. Now he’s the accordion player in the Snuggly Duckling

Fidella was bought by a local farmer. Frederic wanted her as a war mount, but she had other plans and decided that Cassandra was the only one allowed to ride her so she became a spare horse instead

Juno and Jupiter are twins, and they refuse to go out riding if the other isn’t coming along with them. Naturally, Pete and Stan ride them

Marcus was a gift for baby Rapunzel from the king of Arendelle. However, it turned out that he’s pretty picky about which humans are allowed to get close to him

Luckily, over time, he begins to tolerate Rapunzel

Marcus is a REALLY good listener. The guards like to joke that he's their therapy horse

Apollo is a retired show horse. He used to be part of the circus as a foal, but Cass saw they were mistreating him and Cap convinced Frederic to buy him and make him a guard horse

Apollo LOVES to be groomed

Juno and Jupiter have to share a stall or else they get anxious

Sparticus is the only one as big as Achilles

Both Sparticus and Achilles were super attentive and gentle towards baby Cass as soon as they saw her. They walked right up to her and began sniffing her, but the size difference was enough to give Cap a heart attack

Marcus prefers his mane to be long. Cassandra does too, because she thinks it looks nice

Maximus is the fastest of the horses

Flynn is the youngest, just barely five years old by Tangled. His mother was named Minerva. She used to be Arianna’s horse, but she ended up passing on shortly after Flynn was born. It didn’t take long for Fidella to step in as foster mom and take the little foal under her wing

Cassandra is the only one Flynn will EVER listen to. Well, her and Fidella. Because of this, they were the only ones able to train him.

Maximus was enlisted in the guard because he actually stopped a crime. Some boy was about to rob the Captain, but he bit his hand. He's spent his entire career trying to catch that boy, but then he found the Princess so he couldn't bring him in.

Spiculus is the most skittish of the bunch. 90% of the time, he doesn't realize his size and strength; so he'll book it if a mere leaf falls the wrong way

Spiculus likes to try to sit in people's laps. Only problem with that is he can easily break or dislocate your leg

He also became Arianna's horse after Minerva passed on

It actually took a few weeks for Flynn to get his name. Cap wanted to name him Pluto, but Cass wanted to wait until he grew up a little more and developed his personality. Over time, he began reminding everyone of the smug little twerp Flynn Rider, so the name Flynn just stuck

Ironically, Flynn really doesn't like Eugene

Flynn and Marcus like to nip at peoples' butts, just to be shitheads

Flynn always scares the living daylights out of Spiculus. That kid is way too wild and energetic for him to handle

Fidella and Flynn both love carrots

Apollo only accepts sugar cubes as a snack. He's a brat like that.

As far as all the horses are concerned, Cassandra and Cap are part of their herd

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damthosefandoms · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson Guest-Starred on Hannah Montana

Read here on AO3!

(In which Dick gets a second phone to join the Team’s snapchat group chat and does pretty much exactly what you’d expect him to do in that situation.)

M’gann is the one to suggest making a Snapchat group chat for the whole team. Robin frowns when he hears this.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, M’gann, but I can’t join. Secret identity and all.”

He looks totally bummed. Then Wally’s eyes widen, and he types something out on his phone—he shows the screen to Robin, and Robin only.

The Boy Wonder’s expression turns from disappointment to a full-sized grin after reading whatever it is Wally wrote. “On second thought, give me two days.”

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(“Your dad’s rich, dumbass, just buy a second phone.”)

Two days later, Robin shows up at Mount Justice with a brand new iPhone. The case on the phone features Dumbo, the elephant from the movie Dumbo. Robin makes this fact very clear when Wally drops by the Batcave so they can take the zeta tubes to Mount Justice together like usual.

“It’s Dumbo, Wally.”

“I can see that.”

“From the movie Dumbo.”

“I got it, Dick.”

“I really like elephants, Wally.”

“I know, Dick. We’ve had this talk before.”

“I just think he’s neat. He’s got big ears just like me, and mommy issues, a tragic backstory, and he’s from the circus. It’s perfect.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

So Robin gets a phone and tells M’gann to add him to the group chat. He says he probably can’t show his face much. Or send actual pictures or videos much. But it was worth it.

And he kind of lied anyway. He just sends black screens with text written on it. Whatever works, works.

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The first video that Robin sends the team is one with the camera facing outward. The person holding the camera (presumably Robin) is at a golf course. He’s recording some guy (his head is cut off because of how the camera is angled) trying to hit a golf ball.

The ball, however, is stuck in a sand trap. The man is struggling to get it out.

Robin’s voice can be heard from behind the camera. He’s laughing.

The caption reads: “I am darkness! I am the (k)night! I am a terrible golfer!”

It’s the team’s own personal Batman fail compilation, and they don’t even know it yet.

Also, Batman? Golfing? Who would guess Batman could be such a dad?

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The next video Robin sends is filmed from the passenger seat of the Batmobile. It’s one of many videos they’ll eventually start to call the “bat-vlogs.”

The video starts with a view of Robin’s face (was this kid about to take a selfie in the batmobile?), but he quickly double-taps the screen to turn the camera. His feet are kicked up on the dashboard. You can hear Batman talking in the background.

“—aying is that if Riddler didn’t want us to figure out the clues, he shouldn’t have get your feet off the dash right now or I’m making you clean it—”

And the video ends with Robin’s signature cackle.

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The camera is zoomed in on a computer screen. It’s playing an episode of Hannah Montana. Robin’s talking over the show.

“Wally keeps telling me I sound like Jesse McCartney when I talk, but I don’t get it. He sounds nothing like me. Look,” He says. The camera focuses on the computer screen again. Jesse McCartney walks into the scene on the show—it’s the episode he guest-starred in. He starts talking and sounds exactly like Robin.

Robin flips the camera to show his face. He’s wearing sunglasses and he looks annoyed. “I just don’t hear it,” he says.

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The next video isn’t with Batman, but seems to take place in someone’s backyard. Robin himself seems to be the subject of the video this time. He’s wearing sunglasses, despite the fact that it’s cloudy and looks like it’s about to start storming. The wind is blowing so hard that trees are shaking.

The hand holding the camera is a little shaky, probably from the wind, but who knows. Wally’s voice comes from behind the camera. Robin is attempting to climb out the window of an old treehouse. The caption on the video reads, “he kicked my football onto the roof of the treehouse and now he’s going to get it.”

“Dude, get down from there. It’s not safe out here,” Wally’s voice says. He must be the one holding the camera. Robin ignores him. He pulls himself through the window successfully and grabs onto a big branch.

“Man, c’mon! The wind’s starting to pick up. We have to go get inside.”

“Not until I get the footbaaaaah—woah!” Robin’s reply is cut short when the wind blows hard all of a sudden, shaking the branch he’s reaching for and pushing it just out of his reach as he grabs for it.

“Rob, there’s a tornado warning.”

“You’re a tornado warning!”

The first video ends there, and the following one picks up a few minutes later. This time, the caption says, “WHY DO I LIVE IN KANSAS. I HATE STORMS. AND HIM.”

Robin’s standing on the roof of the treehouse, holding a football in the air and waving. His sunglasses are sort of crooked and his shirt is ripped on the sleeve but otherwise he looks unharmed. Thunder can be heard in the background. The wind’s blowing his hair around, and the leaves are flying off the trees.

“Can you please get down now?” Wally says, still behind the camera.

Robin just grins. “I—”

Something flashes in the sky. Wally yells, “Fuck!” really loudly, and the phone falls to the ground.

When he picks it up again, the camera is shakier than before. Wally’s now speed-walking (at a normal human pace) towards the sliding glass doors into the house.

“Fuck this! I’m going inside!”

The wind’s starting to pick up and it’s hard to hear, but you can just make out Robin’s voice yelling, “Wimp!”

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The next video is sent at 1:33 in the morning. It’s dark, but you can just make out the dashboard of the Batmobile. The car radio is playing “We Are Never Ever Ever Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift.

The caption says, “This is his ‘we just saw Catwoman on patrol and I’m still not over her’ playlist. I helped him make it. He’s not a fan but he’s not complaining.”

Two more videos follow it. They’re all clips of the batmobile radio playing assorted break-up songs.

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There’s a video that’s just a full minute of Wally singing along to the Pokémon theme song because they’re having a marathon and because he can. Robin’s too busy laughing to participate, but of course he knows every word, too.

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They also get a video of Roy, dressed in a tux at some fancy party. The team assumes they’re undercover. A waiter offers Roy wine and he takes it. Robin can be heard from behind the camera, saying, “You’re not twenty-one yet, Roy.”

He looks around, lowers his voice, and says, “If I’m old enough to get cloned, I’m old enough to get drunk.” Roy drinks the entire glass in one go.

There’s a short follow-up video that’s just a clip of Roy ranting, “Wine is disgusting, I can’t believe people drink that crap every Sunday—”

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The next one is different. It’s around midnight, and Robin’s holding the camera in selfie-mode, standing on a rooftop. He waves at the camera, then flips the screen. There’s a red-haired girl standing there in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. She looks tired and vaguely annoyed, as if her dad had brought her to work for no reason and she doesn’t want to be there.

“Say hi, Barbara!” he says. The girl stares at him, crosses her arms, and says, “Stop it, Robin.”

He just laughs and then turns the camera towards the sky. The bat signal can be seen clearly, reflecting off the clouds.

The video is captioned, “Saw a friend on patrol tonight!” and there’s a smiley face emoji.

“Robin, turn that thing off,” Batman’s voice comes out of nowhere, and then Robin laughs again and the video ends.

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The next one is just a recording of a tv screen—Robin’s in someone’s living room watching tv. They can’t see his face, so it’s safe to assume that he’s probably not wearing sunglasses.

Someone’s talking in the background, quoting the characters on the tv as they speak as if he knows every word to the episode. He probably does. The voice is vaguely familiar, but they can’t place it.

It’s actually a response to M’gann asking Robin if he wants to come to the mountain to hang out with the rest of the team since they’re off this weekend. All the text says is, “Can’t. Annual Star Trek marathon with my dad.”

Guess that explains the lack of a mission today.

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There’s a whole series of videos Robin sends to the team of himself kicking Wally’s butt in Mario Kart.

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“GET WRECKED LMAO” is the white text across the faded black bar in the next video. This one, which is looped like all the others, is just a recording of Wally (in civvies, in the Batcave) trying to learn to roller skate and failing miserably. At one point he slips and slams his face into the ground.

It’s followed by a picture of him with a bandage on his nose and holding an ice pack to his forehead. He’s giving the camera a thumbs up and painful-looking grin.

“I’m telling you, Agent A works wonders. Only thing he can’t fix is Wally’s personality,” Robin writes, sending the picture to his friends.

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The next video is of Robin telling the camera person, “Hold it, just like that—yeah, perfect.” He walks backwards so he’s in the frame better.

“Hey, guys! Today I’m going to do a flip off of Wayne Tower and—”

“End up pancaked on the street?” a girl’s voice says. She must be the one holding the camera.

Robin crosses his arms. “I got this, BG. You could, I don’t know, believe in me? Might help.”

The girl starts to say something again, but then the batsignal appears in the air, and Robin frowns. His hand goes up to his ear as if someone’s talking into the communicator.

“Busted,” the girl says. Robin pouts.

“Give me my phone back, BG,” he says, holding out his hand.

“No way,” the girl says. She taps the screen and the camera flips. A red-haired girl in a cowl can be seen now. She’s smiling.

“Screw off, Boy Wonder, I gotta send this first,” she says, and Robin’s voice can be heard yelling, “BATGIRL, GIVE IT!” Then the camera goes all shaky and blurry and the video ends.

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One video depicts Robin showing off with his bo staff, but it accidentally flies out of his hand and he flinches as it clatters to the floor. Batman’s voice can be heard in the background, yelling, “I thought I told you to go to bed!”

Robin grabs the bo staff and rushes towards the camera to turn it off.

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At some point Artemis sends the team a video of the kids at her lunch table at school: Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon.

In the video, Dick can be heard saying, “—just think Robin is kind of overrated.”

Barbara responds by saying that she’s “So sick of the drama. You’re just jealous that I like him better than you.”

Robin opens the Snapchat a few hours later and his only response is a picture of his middle finger. So classy.

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Robin sends them a picture of a toaster oven on fire with the caption “Fun fact: Batman can do anything except cook.”

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Artemis asks Robin one day why he never sends Snapchats during the school day. It’s not like he doesn’t send videos of himself in civvies. He just doesn’t show his face. Why bother not doing what every other teenager does: selfies over the shoulder, quick, blurry snaps of a classroom, pictures taken of his feet in the hallways, etc.

“Secret identity. You know that.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like seeing a picture of your classroom would give away your identity. I send pictures of my school all the time.”

What Robin doesn’t say is that he has taken random blurry pictures of classrooms, and hallways, and over his shoulder and of his classmates all of that—but the only person who gets those pictures is Wally, because he really just appreciates random cute pictures of his girlfriend (and, you know, he knows).

“I take pictures of that stuff all the time, Artemis. I have a thousand pictures of me with my friends from school. You’d know that if you paid attention.”

She shrugs it off as him being a cryptic weirdo like normal. During their discussion, Wally’s standing a few feet away, texting someone. Robin’s phone buzzes, but not the one the team knows he has.

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The next day in school, Dick makes it a point to take a selfie with Artemis (again). He sends it to Wally.

The caption reads, “Think she’s onto me yet?”

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paralleljulieverse · 3 years

Photo

It’s been a while between posts here at the Parallel Julieverse, but we have finally managed to clear a bit of time from work, life, and other such annoyances to get back to what really matters: all things Julie! And in this post we highlight an interesting tidbit of trivia from late-1950 when Julie was appearing in Red Riding Hood at the Theatre Royal Nottingham, the subject of a recent 70th anniversary tribute post.

Although she had only just turned 15 when she was cast as the eponymous lead in Red Riding Hood, Julie Andrews was already an established juvenile star of considerable note. Her debut star-making turn as a 12-year-old child prodigy in Starlight Roof in 1947/48 garnered widespread media attention and it catapulted the young singer into a whirlwind period of touring performances, radio programmes, West End pantomimes, and even early television appearances. Julie’s subsequent casting as the resident singer in the hit BBC radio series, Educating Archie, augmented her fame further, bringing her voice into the sitting rooms of Britain on a weekly basis and making her a household name.

With this growing renown came equally expanded opportunities for cross-promotional marketing such as celebrity endorsements and advertising. A particular variant of celebrity promotion popular in the era was the staged 'star visit’ or what today might be termed ‘celebrity event marketing’ (Segrave 2005). Here the star would be invited to appear at a particular event or special occasion as a way of boosting public and media interest, while serving in return as a form of value-adding PR for the star and his/her professional ventures.

Julie was involved in several such ‘star visits’ during the three month run of Red Riding Hood. During rehearsals in mid-December 1950, she was invited as a VIP guest and honorary judge at the Annual Dance for Booth and Son, a major British apparel manufacturing company (‘Ilkeston’, 1). Around the same time, she paid a special visit to the Nazareth House for Children in Nottingham (‘Night’, 2), as well as the Borough Green Air Training Corps Cadets Open Night where “[p]art of the evening’s entertainment had to be cancelled in order to allow the enthusiastic younger generation to get her autograph” (‘Julie stopped’, 3).

One of the more fascinating such events -- and the one that we profile here -- was a courtesy visit to famed music impresario, Lawrence Wright. Today, Wright is little remembered, save by a handful of theatre history enthusiasts, but he was a major figure in the British entertainment industry of the early twentieth century (Wright 1988). Popularly dubbed the ‘Daddy of Tin Pan Alley’ and the ‘Monarch of Melody’, Wright started as a music composer in his hometown of Leicester where, under the pseudonym of Horatio Nicholls, he penned a string of popular songs such as “Down by the Stream", “Blue Eyes”, “Toy Drum Major”, and “Among My Souvenirs” (‘Alley’s Daddy’, 3).

Wright’s greatest success, however, came as a sheet music publisher and entertainment entrepreneur. In 1910, he chanced upon a catchy tune written by a local Leicester street singer called “Don’t Go Down the Mine, Daddy”. He promptly purchased the rights to the song and published it as part of his embryonic music company. A week after the song went on sale, there was a tragic mining disaster in Whitehaven in which 147 men and boys lost their lives. Recognising a potential marketing angle, Wright had a snipe printed across the top of the sheet music declaring that “Half the profits from the first ten thousand sold will go to the relief fund for the Whitehaven pit disaster” (Wright, 4). The song became a national sensation, selling over a million copies, and making Wright a small fortune. With the proceeds, he moved to London and set up shop as the ‘Lawrence Wright Music Company’ in Denmark Street, establishing what would become the city’s ‘Tin Pan Alley’.

Under the slogan, ‘You Can’t Go Wrong with the Wright Song’, Wright became the single biggest music publisher in the UK with an eventual catalogue of over 5000 songs which he leased to major theatre producers and singing artists of the day. In an era when many homes had a piano and singalongs in the parlour were a popular social pastime, Wright also sold his sheet music direct to the public through a nationwide chain of ‘Lawrence Wright Music Shops’. Ever the canny entrepreneur, Wright diversified his business holdings with a host of affiliate ventures. In 1926, he founded The Melody Maker, the first British periodical devoted to popular music, which remained in continuous publication right into the early-2000s. He launched a popular series of self-paced musical tutorials which taught a generation of young Britons how to play everything from the piano to the banjo. Wright also moved into theatre producing, mounting an annual summer revue, On With the Show at the North Pier Pavilion in Blackpool, which ran for 32 years and served as a showcase for many of the nation’s biggest variety acts (Wright 1988).

One of Wright’s more legendary professional pursuits was in the area of entertainment publicity. An inveterate showman, he would do anything to advertise his latest song or business venture, often falling foul of the authorities with some of his more colourful efforts. To promote his 1927 song, “Me and Jane in a Plane”, he chartered a bi-plane to fly at low altitude around the Blackpool Tower, while Jack Hylton and his Band played the song on board and dropped advertising leaflets to the startled crowds below. He offered £1000 to anyone who could disprove the title of another Wright song, “I’ve Never Seen a Straight Banana”, with the result that Denmark Street was awash with truckloads of fruit sent in by eager contestants. And what better way to launch a tune called “Sahara” than to dress a bevy of beautiful blondes as Arabian princesses and ride them on camels around Piccadilly Circus (Wright, 11; ‘King’, 7).

Less extravagant, but no less important to his business success, was Wright’s promotional use of stars. Across his fifty year career, Wright forged key professional relationships with many leading musical artists of the day. He even married a star: variety singer and comedienne, Betsy Warren, in 1933, though their union ended in divorce after only a few years. More enduring were his collaborations with the scores of stars who sang his songs and appeared in his shows. In 1960 to mark his 50th year in show business, Melody Maker published a special golden anniversary tribute to Wright that was brimming with congratulatory greetings from a cavalcade of stars old and new: everyone from George Formby, Jack Payne, and Billy Cotton to Harry Secombe, Connie Francis, and Frankie Vaughan (Wright, 18).

It was in this context that 15-year-old Julie Andrews found herself paying a promotional ‘star visit’ to Lawrence Wright in late 1950. The precise circumstances surrounding the visit are unknown. The young singer had an existing professional relationship of sorts with Wright, having included several of his songs in her concert repertoire such as “The Dream of Olwen” and “I Heard a Robin Singing”. Indeed, an article in the trade press from this time makes mention of Julie in relation to a newly published Wright number, “The Song of the Tritsch Tratsch” which she had started to perform in some of her concerts and, she was quoted as saying, it “always gets a grand reception” (‘Song Notes’, 4). Another likely influence behind the visit was Tom Arnold, the producer of Red Riding Hood. Arnold was a close business associate of Wright’s and one suspects he may have been instrumental in engineering the visit as a way of promoting his panto. Either way, at some point in November/December 1950, Julie dutifully trotted off to Wright’s office where, with photographers conveniently on hand, the young “panto starlet” was received by the impresario and what press reports termed a chorus of “his stars”.

It is this “chorus of stars” that makes the visit especially interesting from a theatre history perspective. While the names of the five female stars assembled to greet Julie may not ring many bells today, they were all celebrated theatrical luminaries of their day:

Carole Lynne (1918-2008): A glamorous actress and singer of the 1940s, Lynne starred in a string of big West End musicals including Black Velvet (1939), Old Chelsea (1943) opposite Richard Tauber, and a revival of Jill Darling (1945). She also appeared in a number of wartime comedy films such as Ghost Train (1941) and Asking For Trouble (1942) with Max Miller. In 1946, Lynne married famed theatre impresario, Lord Bernard Delfont -- the brother of Sir Lew Grade who would play a major role in Julie’s career -- and, after retiring from the stage in the early 50s, she became a prominent society hostess and patron to many theatre charities (’Carole Lynne’, 62).

Dorothy Ward (1890-1987): A noted beauty of the Edwardian stage, Ward rose to prominence in West End operettas such as The Dairymaids (1906) and Tom Jones (1907). She achieved her greatest fame, however, as a dashing pantomime Principal Boy, appearing in over 40 pantos across her 50 year career. In many of these shows, she played opposite her husband, Shaun Glenville, a noted panto Dame, and few Christmases passed without the pair “on the same stage, he in skirts and she in tights” ( ‘Obituary: Miss Dorothy Ward’, 14).

Marie Burke (1894-1988): A singer of remarkable versatility, Burke originally trained for an operatic career but found her niche in the lighter fields of operetta and musical theatre. She made a high profile debut as Isolde in Charles Cochran’s controversial 1919 production of Afgar, after which she spent several years touring in the United States and Australia. Burke had her greatest stage success playing the part of Julie in the premiere London production of Show Boat (1928). Thereafter, she headlined several major operettas including the London premiere of Waltzes from Vienna (1931-32) and its Broadway transfer as The Great Waltz (1934), and Don Juan de Mañara (1937) at Covent Garden. Burke had an equally successful screen career, appearing in over 70 films and TV programmes from the teens till the 1970s (‘Obituary: Marie Burke’, 12).

Patricia Burke (1917-2003) : The daughter of Marie, Patricia Burke was born in the proverbial trunk while her mother and father, tenor Tom Burke, were on a concert tour in Milan. Inevitably, she took to the boards herself as a teen, singing and dancing her way to fame in a string of West End musical successes of the 1930s -- with more than a few Julie connections. She made her professional debut in the 1933 premiere of Cole Porter’s Nymph Errant starring Gertrude Lawrence and later appeared alongside Beatrice Lillie in Happy Returns (1938). One of her greatest West End successes was as the female lead in The Lisbon Story (1943), a show which introduced the popular standard, “Pedro, the Fisherman” which Julie would later record. Following the war, Burke made an unexpected move into 'legit’ theatre, playing the female lead opposite Trevor Howard in a well received 1946 Old Vic production of The Taming of the Shrew, followed with a number of other equally high profile performances in classics such as As You Like It (1948), Jonson’s The Alchemist (1948) and Shaw’s Saint Joan (1948). Burke never forgot her popular roots, though, and she continued to alternate dramatic roles with musicals and pantos, as well as appearances in film and TV programmes (‘Patricia Burke’, p. 44).

Marjorie Browne (1910-1990): Another popular performer of the mid-century, Browne started her career in the mid-twenties as one of producer Charles Cochran’s ‘Young Lady’ beauties, scoring a major success in his revue One Damn Thing After Another (1927). Browne went on to perform widely in hit West End shows such as On Your Toes (1937) and Chu Chin Chow (1940), as well as touring productions of Rose Marie (1942-3), Hit the Deck (1944) and Good Night Vienna (1946). She also appeared in a number of British film musicals of the 30s and 40s including Lassie from Lancashire (1938), Laugh It Off (1940) co-starring Tommy Trinder, and I Didn’t Do It (1945) with George Formby.

It was, thus, quite the illustrious welcoming committee on hand to receive our young Julie. And, as much as the visit was a factitious PR event staged for the cameras by the ever-wily Lawrence Wright, there is still something deeply moving about its symbolic enactment of a generational passing of the theatrical torch. As representatives of the outgoing old guard, the five grand stars stand at the rear, poised with the confidence of a lifetime’s experience, charging their glasses in warm salute to the rising star of the next generation. That the women are bedecked with the emblematic accoutrements of mid-century celebrity -- furs, coiffure, champagne -- while, in the foreground, an adolescent Julie -- perched rather awkwardly on the corner of the desk, lanky legs akimbo -- is garbed in a homey juvenile ensemble of woollen coat, tartan skirt, ankle socks and Mary Janes -- cradling that perennial icon of cosy British domesticity, a cup of tea -- only adds to the symbolic poignancy.

By 1950, the tide was also starting to ebb for Lawrence Wright. Musical tastes were changing and audiences were fast moving on from the fireplace singalongs and end-of-pier entertainments with which he had built his career. A few short years later, he would stage his final summer revue in Blackpool in 1956, going into semi-retirement before passing in 1964 at age 76. His voluminous catalogue of songs, however, would endure. Prized as a valuable commercial property, the Lawrence Wright catalogue has been owned, at various times, by the Beatles and Michael Jackson, before being bought up by the Universal Music group (Horn, 595).

As a final Julie connection, years after her 1950 ‘star visit’ to the great man himself, Julie would once again sing a Lawrence Wright song when, as Gertrude Lawrence in the 1968 musical biopic, STAR!, she performed the classic WW1 music hall number, “Burlington Bertie from Bow”. Wright had purchased the rights to "Burlington Bertie” when it was first written in 1914 and it would remain a valuable possession of his corporate trunk. Even though “Burlington Bertie” was not in fact a song ever performed by Gertrude Lawrence, it perfectly captured the flavour of Edwardian music hall and provided an ideal showcase for Julie’s combined vocal and comic talents. The song was also something of a personal favourite for Julie. She had recorded the song previously for her 1962 album of music hall standards, and had even shared the stage in the late-40s with the original “Burlington Bertie” herself, the legendary Ella Shields (Andrews, 116). Julie’s performance of “Burlington Bertie” in STAR! would prove a highlight of that otherwise troubled film and she would continue to perform the number in concert well into the 1980s, proving indeed that “you can’t go wrong with a Wright song”!

Sources:

‘Alley’s Daddy Dead’, 1964. The Stage and Television Today, 21 March: 3.

Andrews, Julie. 2019. Home Work: A memoir of my Hollywood years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

D.G. 1964. ‘The King is Dead. Long Live the King!’, The Illustrated Chronicle. 22 May: 7.

Heyes, Joy 1991. ‘Obituary: Marjorie Browne.’ The Stage and Television Today, 21 February: 30.

Horn, David 2004. ‘Lawrence Wright Music Company’ in J. Shepherd et al, eds. Continuum Encyclopedia of Popular Music of the World : Media, industry, society. London: Continuum, pp. 594-95.

‘Ilkeston Firm’s Event’, 1950. The Nottingham Evening Post. 16 December: 1.

‘Julie stopped the show at cadet’s open night.’ 1950. The Chronicle and Advertiser. 15 December: 3.

“Night of their Lives: Children at panto. dress rehearsal’, 1950. The Nottingham Evening Post. 23 December: 2.

’Carole Lynne: Glamorous actress and musical theatre star who as Lady delfont became one of London’s leading theatrical hostesses’ 2008. The Times, 22 January: p. 62.

‘Obituary: Marie Burke’ 1988. The Times, 23 March: p.12

‘Obituary: Miss Dorothy Ward’ 1987. The Times, 22 January: p. 14.

‘Patricia Burke: Thirties musical star who proved her range with Shakespearean roles, but retained a love of pantomime.’ 2003, The Times, 27 November: p. 44.

Segrave, Kerry, 2005. Endorsements in Advertising: A social history. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland.

‘Song Notes’ 1950. The Stage. 16 November, p. 4.

Wright, Lawrette, 1988. Lawrence Wright: Souvenirs for a century. Chards: Matthews Wright Press.

#julie andrews #lawrence wright #red riding hood #united kingdom #musical theatre #theatre history #music hall #variety #burlington bertie from bow #carole lynne #dorothy ward #marie burke #patricia burke #marjorie browne #ella shields #british

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bluegarners · 3 years

Text

The Call

Later in life, he’ll understand it was the void that spoke to him. Right now though, it screams in Dick’s ears.

When he was younger, maybe between the age of five or six, he heard it. The particular wording wasn’t exactly correct, he never actually heard anything, there was no sound or noise to hear, but he understood it.

It was a call. A command. And whenever it surfaced, it was loud and it was in his face until he listened and did whatever it asked of him.

When he first heard it, he was with his parents, practicing for their next performance. It was normal and peaceful. But when he mounted the bars and was reaching out to grasp the swinging rope before him, it spoke and tugged gently.

Stop.

At the time, he hadn’t known what it was. It was soft, quiet even, but it had startled him enough to the point where his grip slackened, and he was falling. The feel of air rushing past you, whistling in your ear like a taunt as the world laughed; the first time you feel it, you never forget it.

He was lucky. It was only a practice and the safety net had caught him before gravity had had its way with him. His parents had been frantic, leaping down to help him and reassure themselves. It had been scary seeing a Grayson fall. Graysons flew, toyed with the idea of plummeting like it was merely a myth. To see one shot down, so suddenly, so quickly, and so young, it was horrifying.

Dick did not perform that night.

When his parents died, flashes of red, yellow, and green, it whispered again. It tickled against his ears, brushed against his hair, as he looked down at the brokenness of their bodies, displayed and framed with pools of black against the sawdust.

Follow.

It had only been a whisper, just a breath, and he had dismissed it. The shrieks of the crowd below, the shouts of the ringmaster demanding for everyone to remain calm, his fellow performers stock still like statues. It was easy to dismiss a whisper when there was chaos. When the police came and the sirens ceased their wailing, everything was silent and weightless, like the world had forgotten what noise was.

When the social worker told him that he could not continue traveling with the circus and was instead to remain in Gotham, be “placed” in an orphanage like he was some object, some discarded thing that needed to be relocated, he was angry. He was upset. He was baffled. He was ten.

In those few months he spent with the other dozens of “placed” children, Dick Grayson was a lot of things, but none of them what he wanted to be. There was an endless buzz deep within his bones, a steady thrum in his head that would not dissipate no matter how many nights he snuck out or how many purse snatchers and petty thieves he beat with his fists. The kids he roomed with, ate with, shared a bathroom with, knew he was a circus freak. That he was some weirdo who could perform tricks on command like a dog. That the people who he had once called family were all thousands of miles away from Gotham and buried in some nameless cemetery with plain gravestones.

One day, as he lay in his rotted mattress, the nagging, ceaseless, ever present urge to flee covering his entire being, another social worker came by and told him he was going to be taken away by Bruce Wayne. That the man had offered, in a generous and beautiful display of sympathy and desire to help, to take the ten year old in as his ward. That he better behave and thank the man when he came to pick him up and smile for the cameras when they flashed in his face.

Dick was confused. He was desperate. He was grateful to be rescued from the looming and smelly walls. Mostly, though, he was indifferent.

Arriving at the Wayne Mansion was overwhelming and scary. It was absurdly large, immaculately clean, and much too empty. Most of his first week getting “settled”, because that’s what you have to do when you relocate and get removed, you must settle for what you have, was spent with the singular butler. Dick found it impressive that the older man was in charge of maintaining every detail in the massive home, but he soon saw reason for it.

Bruce was never there. He was always working, always away, and too busy to properly help “settle” his new ward, of which he had yet to explain. Why? Why him? Why this random orphaned boy out of the other hundreds of more pitiable kids?

Alfred tried his best to explain it to him, that Bruce saw himself in Dick because they had both become orphaned at such a young age, and god, didn’t that sting? To be reminded in such a stark manner? To be told his sole purpose in occupying space in the Wayne household was because of a mutual trauma?

And then one night, it makes sense. He discovers the secret to Bruce Wayne and his near constant absence. And he wants in.

When it comes time, after three days of convincing, a week of searching and preparing, and two days staking out, Dick is ready. The mask he wears hides his eyes, hides the fury, the hatred, the absolute glee he feels as his fist drives into the man who took everything from him. Over and over again, and he thinks he’s smiling when he pauses for a moment to truly look into the bloody and disfigured face he’s beating.

Do it.

It had been months since he’d last heard it, last felt it, but he thinks he’s ready to listen. No more startling, no more ignoring. In fact, he might even embrace it.

There’s a batarang in his hand before he’s even processed it all, reeling back his arm to deliver the final blow, to avenge his parents, avenge the life that could’ve been his but was instead snatched from underneath him all because of some stupid money. Some fucking paper bills.

Do it.

“Robin, that’s enough.”

The weapon falls out of his grasp as if he’d been burned by it, getting up and off the unconscious man. The gloves he’s wearing are dripping, his skin hot from the red that splatters his front. Beneath the dock lighting, it almost looks black.

It begins yelling at him, pushing against his mind for every step he takes away from the misshapen body tied to the lamp post. It goes away eventually, its screams fading away into the background as days pass by. The endless thrum in him stops, the buzzing static in his bones melting away as he realizes how tired he is.

How awfully tired and done he is.

He holes himself in his much too large room, coming out only to eat and prove he is alive. For two weeks, he keeps the same routine. He tells nothing of his thoughts from that night, nor wishes to. Alfred attempts to keep him company, assuring the ten year old that he has someone to talk to, but his lips are sealed and his head is wailing.

Finally, he emerges, and after awkward greetings, apologies, and long suffering sighs, he gets to work. Training under the Batman, becoming yet another symbol to Gotham in the form of a bird his mother loved, it keeps his head on straight. For the first time in a long time, Dick is strangely optimistic and happy.

Alfred tells him that his smiles brighten both his and Bruce’s day, even if the latter says nothing of it. He learns that Bruce, even out of the cowl and under the name Wayne, is still a very stoic and quiet man, even cold at times. But Dick reminds himself that by letting him become Robin, by letting him work by his side and live in his home, this was the billionaire’s way of showing he cared. On the good days, when Dick could get the reserved man to smile or even chuckle a tiny bit, he was a ball of light and energy, doubling down on his efforts to keep Alfred and Bruce happy with him.

Because if they grew tired of him, or his presence no longer brought joy, what would they do with him? Under a legal obligation and public image, Bruce couldn’t get rid of him so soon, but there were worse things. Like taking Robin away. Taking his only connection, his only outlet, away. Letting the buzz and the ache return.

The day he debuted officially as Batman’s sidekick, his new partner, Robin, was one of the happiest days Dick thinks he’s ever had. It’s a slow night, a slow patrol, but it’s amazing. Everything he could have ever dreamed of. When they come to rest, perched on some high rise skyscraper looking over the dingy city, Dick breathes in the smog and smiles. Next to him, Batman stands, silent and brooding, but even Robin knows that he is satisfied as well. Below them, down, down, down below, there is the city life. The homeless, the hookers, the drug dealers, the thieves, the ordinary civilians. From where they perch, the people look like ants. So tiny and minuscule.

He’s seen this view before. Seen it in his trial runs through the city. Seen it from lower buildings. The air is thinner and just that amount colder, the wind is whistling in his ears, brushing against his hair, laughing. Taunting.

The longer he stares downward, the longer his eyes remain trained on the perhaps only dozen people below, the longer he allows the call to beckon him, the harder his heart beats. The louder the wind screams in his ears.

You never forget it after the first time.

Jump.

It’s the first time it has echoed so loudly, so demandingly.

Batman turns his head to stare at the boy, watching as his feet shuffle and his back hunches. There’s a strong gust, powerful enough to make his cape billow wildly, and suddenly, Robin is leaping.

Robin is plummeting.

There are no second thoughts as he fires his grapple hook, jumping down after the boy who falls so serenely. The wind bites at his face, Gotham is cold tonight, and as he yanks at the boy’s arm, securing him stiffly to his side, Batman feels his stomach churn. He hadn’t thought of this outcome.

Later, when they return to the Manor, Dick goes straight to his room, shutting the door and locking it. Bruce stays in the cave, troubled, unsure, and mildly terrified.

“I was just playing around, B. It was no big deal.”

“What you just did was reckless and unnecessary.”

“I was gonna catch myself.”

“Were you?”

Bruce still isn’t sure what exactly had happened. The boy hadn’t shown any alarming tendencies before. Red flags all but absent. Even after consulting Alfred, both adults were stumped. Dick was happy, right?

What bothered him the most was that Robin hadn’t even reached for his grapple. There was no fear. No thrill. Nothing in his actions or posture or face that would indicate he jumped for the fun of it.

He leaped and did nothing.

He just fell.

Dick gets “suspended” for three weeks after. Bruce never said anything, never implied a suspension or anything of the sort, but Dick knew. He stays in the Manor with Alfred, goes to school, and is quite normal. He never attended a proper school whilst traveling with the circus, and he can’t say he likes the atmosphere.

He knows he’s been forgiven when Bruce joins them for dinner, asking what he’d learned that day and investing actual thought into the conversation. When they go out for patrol, and god, does it feel good to be out again, Robin stays close to Batman and Batman keeps an eye on Robin. All goes well and nothing big happens. It’s a good night.

As time passes on, and Gotham finally learns of their new hero, all thoughts of Robin’s leap vanish. Even the villains note how chipper the smaller vigilante is beside the ever dark and stoic Bat. There are always comments about his age, speculations on why a child would be strung along for the ride. Batman ignores them and Robin sticks out his tongue. Simple.

Months pass and Dick realizes that Batman doesn’t do holidays. Bruce Wayne hosts galas and attends them, but Batman does not. When Christmas Eve arrives, and with it the seventh gala of the month, Dick tries his best to remain collected. As Bruce Wayne’s ward, he has to maintain an image, but there is an empty feeling inside when Christmas morning comes and there is no real festive cheer. A simple breakfast and a normal day accompany it, and even Christmas dinner is no more than a nice ham and some plum pudding.

Dick cries that night. He’s never missed his parents more.

Spring arrives, and so does March 20th. Honestly, Dick hadn’t been paying attention, a small part of him perhaps even ignoring the date existed, but he’s forced to reckon with it when Alfred delivers him breakfast in bed and a small card that reads Happy Birthday.

He is eleven now. It is his first birthday, ever, where he has not been woken up by a hug pile and loud, borderline obnoxious singing from his parents. When Alfred leaves to let Dick get dressed, because “I’m taking you out shopping for a nice suit; Master Bruce has a pleasant dinner planned,” , he takes extra long in the shower, begging the hot water to do something about the numbness that’s closing in. He does not cry, he’s promised himself not to do that anymore, but he feels hollow.

Dick isn’t sure he likes his birthday anymore. It doesn’t feel the same. Not with the lavish presents, the fancy food, the primness of other rich people wishing him well and congratulations.

He wants his parents.

He wants them to smother him and take too many pictures.

He wants to laugh and complain when his face gets shoved into a slice of cake.

He wants to hold them tightly and tell them he loves them.

Instead, Dick says thank you and smiles brightly.

Later that night, when they’re back in the Manor, safe from the flashing cameras and intrusive questions,

“What’s it like to be the ward of a billionaire?”

“What were birthdays like in the circus?”

“Is it hard adjusting to normal life?”

Dick climbs out of his window and sits on the roof. Even as far away from the city as they are, light pollution steals the stars away. The sky is cloudy, the moon hidden, and Dick has never felt so small. So alone. The world is vast, larger than even he can stretch his imagination, and somewhere out there, Haly’s Circus was traveling, performing.

They must be thinking of him, right? At least one of them must remember him. He grew up in the circus, grew up around “strange” people, people he called family. He loved them, so they had to have loved him back, right? At least, once in a while, be thinking of him.

Or maybe. Maybe, he was just another act. Another stage performance. Dazzling, flashy, and brief. Time ran out, the clock struck twelve, and the show was over. Curtains close, they say goodbye, and that’s it.

The Graysons were never supposed to be permanent.

He teeters, four stories above the ground below, and breathes. Balancing at the tip of some outdated and strangely well fit spike, Dick feels the wind come and brush against his face. Is this what he’ll always think of when the air gets cold? Of cheering crowds and brightly colored outfits? The cheers turning into screams of horror, sawdust becoming saturated with a red so black it looks like some blank and open void?

Fly.

I’m scared to, he thinks. The horizon ahead of him is endless, boundless, but the ground beneath him, just barely sixty feet away, is so close. An abrupt stop.

Fly.

When he tries to breathe in again, his lungs spasm and a short and quiet hiccup escapes instead. For the first time, Dick is scared of flying. Scared of what will happen if he falls. Scared that there will be nothing waiting for him except something cold and hard, left in another unmarked graveyard.

Scared that no one will care if he falls.

But, it keeps telling him to go. To jump. To leap. To take flight. It’s loud and annoying and it won’t leave him alone.

He shuffles a bit, keeping his eyes fixed on the Gotham city lights. They become blurry, too obscured in his tears, and that scares him even more to think that if he falls, he won’t have the comfort of light to guide him.

Fly.

The suit he wore to dinner is starchy against his skin, the feel of pressed fabric and metal buttons stark. He feels out of place, even by himself where no is to judge him except the sky and the open air. The jacket is too thick, too warm, and he thinks that if he were to take it off, peel back the heavy layer and throw it away, he thinks he might actually be able to do it.

Actually fly.

“Dick?”

Fly.

The breeze plays with his hair, untied shoelaces and unkempt tie fluttering. They tease him in their effortless play. How tangibly wonderful must it be to play with the wind, forgetting gravity altogether?

There’s a shadow behind him, the moon peeking out and casting a soft glow upon the moor. It’s a heavy but solid presence, the shadow that stands behind him, and somehow, he can feel the concern emanating off of them. Sometimes, he forgets that Bruce is still fairly young. Only twenty six.

Fly.

“I’m scared,” Dick says aloud, still teetering, still balancing, still deciding. Still only eleven himself.

Fly.

“What are you scared of?”

It’s genuine, nothing mocking or patronizing, but Dick struggles to come up with an answer. Bruce is close behind him, maybe only a few feet away, tense and ready to make a grab for him. Ready to leap and snatch him out of the air again.

Fly.

Dick wishes it would shut up. Wishes the thing would go away, out of his mind, away from his head. It always sounds so nice when he’s by himself, when there’s no one else around, and it's just whispering into his ear. Speaking of reassurance and comfort. When there are others, when more people arrive, it gets so angry. So loud. Demanding. He doesn’t like it. He hates it. It never leaves him alone.

He wants it to die. He wants it to shrivel up and never come back. He wants to…

“I’m scared of flying,” Dick finally answers, stumbling away from the edge and back onto the roof. “I don’t want to fly. I don’t want- I can’t fly anymore.”

Bruce’s arms wrap around him, secure and tight and grounding. They hold him in place, even as the wind still laughs in his ear, whisking away leaves and letting them drift gently as if to say, This is what you’re missing out on.

“That’s okay,” Bruce rumbles, voice deep and perhaps somber. “You don’t have to fly if you don’t want to.”

Fly.

“I don’t. I don’t want to.”

And Bruce nods like he understands what Dick is talking about, like he understands the sudden fright of flight. Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t and is merely humoring Dick. It doesn’t matter much though, the security of his hold enough to stabilize and keep him attached to the roof.

Enough to make him stop shaking out of fear of accidentally flying.

Enough to quell the screams.

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themonkeycabal · 3 years

Text

Wandavision Ep 7 Spoilers

Spoilers below

Good morning. There's a guy power washing the sidewalks at 12:30 a.m., and the drone from the generator is drilling into my brain. So I will watch WandaVision instead of doing something I might regret.

Previously on: Wanda was getting sick of Pietro's shit. Vision knows/thinks his wife is behind all the creepy shenanigans, and he tried to escape the Hex, only to fly to pieces in the real world. I can relate.

Outside, Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy were banished from the SWORD circus by Acting Director Dick, because of course. They snuck back in, also because of course. Darcy hacked AD Dick's files and found out he's Up to Something. Then she ran to try and help Vision and got herself arrested and handcuffed to a jeep. Which is where the brave SWORD agents left her when they ran away as Wanda, attempting to save Vision, expanded the Hex, swallowing Darcy and the SWORD compound, turning it all into a sitcom circus. Well deserved. Well, not Darcy, but anyway.

AD Dick escaped. Unfortunately. But, so did Jimmy and Monica who were off to her mystery aerospace engineer friend to find a way into the Hex.

Also, Tommy and Billy have powers.

The episode 7 summary is a delight: "Two super-powered beings living ideal suburban lives suspect that everything is not as it seems." You don't say, Disney+.

Wanda wakes, regrets everything, and hides under the covers. Understandable. Cut away to her addressing the camera The Office style "Look, we've all been there. Letting our fear and anger get the best of us; intentionally expanding the boarders of the false world we created". (cut to screaming running SWORD minions lol).

The boys come to get her, their game is freaking out. The video game controllers can't decide what decade they're in and are glitching it up.

Billy says his head feels weird and noisy. Wanda isn't terribly responsive. Mommy needs some her time.

"As punishment for my reckless evening, I plan on taking a quarantine-style staycation. A whole day. Just to myself. That'll show me." lol

Wanda eventually rouses herself, goes downstairs in her robe and sweats, ignores the boys fighting over a video game controller, and goes for the sugariest cereal. The milk container keeps glitching, she tries very very hard to ignore that.

Interesting Office-style opening credits, where it's just her name on everything. Vision is only added at the end, with the tag "Created by Wanda Maximoff".

Out in the real world, what is the point of SWORD? Like how do they have jurisdiction? Where is SHIELD. Director Mack, wtf, dude?

Anyway, now that part of their camp has been swallowed by the hex, they're further out, staring at the angry glowing force-field. AD Dick is a dick. He wants to know what's happening with the broadcast. His little minion says the signal's gone. Ominously he says "we launch today". Mmmm, what delightfully heavy-handed dipshittery will we have to endure?

Back inside. Vision wakes in the field at the edge of town that is now a circus. And lots and lots of clowns. He gets yelled at by a strongman who seems to think Vision is the new clown and tells him he's late for rehearsal with the escape artist. Who is Darcy. lol

"I put in for the bearded lady. But this alabaster complexion wasn't fooling anyone."

Darcy is chained to a ye olde fire engine or tractor or something. Vision walks up to her making a weird face and kind of waving his hand back and forth between them.

"You don't remember me from last night? We locked eyes, there was an unspoken understanding." Darcy tells him "um, hard pass." lol She busts out of her chains and walks away, Vision chases after.

Back at home, Wanda wants to know if the boys have seen dad, they haven't, but Billy wants to know about that whole thing Uncle Pietro said about dad being dead again. Wanda says Pietro is not their uncle. The boys don't understand, and Wanda has a little rambling breakdown about how she has no answers and maybe there's no meaning to anything ha ha don't worry boys mommy's just having a little depression.

Agnes knocks and then, you know, strolls in, when Wanda magics the door open.

"Hi Agnes. I'd get up but I just don't, ahahahah, want to." If I was Billy or Tommy I'd mount a search for dad. Stat.

Agnes: "I think I got there in the nick of time, 'cause she was one split-end away from cutting her own bangs."

(It's 1 a.m. and I swear to God, that man is still power-washing the sidewalks.)

Agnes suggests the boys go with her and give mommy that 'me time' she so desperately needs. The boys are reluctant but Wanda is ecstatic.

Once alone with her certainly soggy cereal, Wanda settles back to watch crappy daytime TV. But, damn it, the furniture is glitching through the eras.

"I'm fine! I'm fine hahahah. *sigh* I'm fine. i'm fine. … I'm fine."

In the real world. Jimmy and Monica are still on the move. The file on project whatever it was from last episode (Cataract), that Darcy forwarded to Jimmy's email, has finally found its way to him. It's R&D reports.

Oh, that asshole, AD Dick was trying to bring Vision back online. Monica puts the pieces together "Heyward wants his sentient weapon back."

Jimmy says somebody has to tell Wanda.

Good thing they arrive at the other side of the Hex, I guess? Where Monica has another team waiting. An Agent Goodner. They brought her like some sort of big Mars rover thingy.

Vision is still trying to talk to Darcy. "You tried to help me." "Doubtful. I'm notoriously self-involved."

lol, some amusing back and forth. Darcy is an f'ing delight and I don't just say that because I am obviously hideously biased.

Vision distracts her with a mime and takes the opportunity to do his brain mojo on her, waking her up. "Part of me secretly wanted a guest spot on this show, but seriously that sucked."

"Dr. Lewis. I have questions." "I have answers."

And then they steal the funnel cake truck.

"Dr. Lewis, my questions. Are my children safe?" "That I don't know." "And who was that Pietro?" "Beats me."

Wanda is still working on her bowl of cereal. Give it up, sister. The house redecorates itself around her.

Uh-oh, in her talking head segment, about how she doesn't understand whats going on, the person behind the camera speaks, and asks if maybe it's what she deserves. "You're not supposed to talk."

Commercial time. For a depression medication. "Nexus, a unique antidepressant that works to anchor you back to your reality. Or the reality of your choice."

Back in Westview. The boys are hanging at Agnes's. Billy has a rabbit. As happens at your crazy neighbor's house. But, he says he likes it there, because it's quiet. "You're quiet, Agnes. On the inside." J'ACCUSE, AGNES!

Back at Monica's backup camp, she's getting suited up in her SWORD astronaut suit. Jimmy's sad because Darcy's missing the fun. But, Monica will rescue her. SWORD is worse than SHIELD for slapping their name all over everything.

Monica and the little rover zoom off to the hex. Should she really go that fast? Maybe this is something to take cautiously? Oh, and look, she hit it hard and she's stuck. The Hex doesn't want to let her in, but she keeps trying. And now the Hex is eating into the rover — sorry, *re-writing* it. Well that was a dumb plan. Sorry guys, but come on.

Monica escapes, but the hex eats the rover and then spits it out, the front half transformed into a truck. Monica is shocked, Jimmy calls for a medic, and as they run forward, Jimmy, who has known Monica for like two days, recognizes she's got 'I'm a heroic dummy' face on and he's all "noooooo!". She runs for the hex and pushes her way in.

This is a really long sequence of her going through the hex. Like … too long. Sorry, but it is. There's a whole thing where she's hearing voices from moments in her life, and she hears Carol tell her how she's a tough kid, and now Monica is Filled With Resolve and breaks through the Hex, still in her Astronaut outfit, so like she resisted the sitcom wardrobe department.

I enjoy this show, but there are moments of hokeyness that I find very trying.

The hex rewrites you at a basic level as you pass through it. So, third time through and Monica's eyes are glowy blue and she can, like, see electrical currents, or electromagnetic fields (it looks like). Trippy. She can see power along the power lines, fields around streetlights. Closing her eyes and shaking her head makes it all go away. Of course.

Meanwhile, Darcy and Vision are on their slow-speed getaway in the Funnel Cake truck. She's trying to catch him up on what's happened since he's been dead. They keep hitting red lights and obstacles. Vision thinks Wanda's doing it to keep him from getting home. "I'm not amused," he tells the camera with a very not amused face on. lol

Vision is trying to understand what he is now. It's not going well. "My corporeal form was born from Ultron's plan for global genocide?" "Correct-o." Darcy might not be the best person to be explaining this to him.

"What am I now?" Poor Vision.

Darcy takes a deep breath. In fairness, she looks like maybe she'd rather not be the one doing the explaining, either. "Honestly, I'm a STEM type of lady, so I thought she just flipped a switch on your head and brought you back to life. What I don't get is why you can't leave the hex."

Vision is having an existential crisis. But, Darcy assures him that based on her week-long experience as a fan of WandaVision, he and Wanda do really love each other. So, there's that. "You belong together," says the shameless shipper.

Meanwhile, Monica has arrived at the Maximoff residence and busts into the house, breathlessly trying to tell Wanda it's all Heyward being a dick, but Wanda's stunned by the sudden entry and then too pissed to really listen. "The drones, the missiles, Pietro." "No, Pietro wasn't us." "All you do is lie." She's tossing Monica around with her powers.

Monica, friend, buddy, pal, was that really your plan? To barge right in and just … what? Talk fast and hope she didn't yeet your ass again? Okay, she didn't have a lot of time, I get that, but surely she could have come up with something. Like, she should have found Darcy and Vision first, and then the three of them could approach Wanda. But, no. Jimmy Woo would have a plan, Monica.

Well, fortunately for Monica she's been rewritten into Electricity Lass. She hits the ground with a staticky crackle and her eyes glow blue again. Wanda's all "bu-whu?"

"The only lies I've told are the ones you put in my mouth," Monica says all angry like. Mmmkay, I thought you were trying to help? Wanda does not care for this response. Because, no offense Monica, but the last time she heard your voice, she had a missile launched at her head.

Monica challenges her. "Do it then, take me out." Not an approach I’d go for, but it seems to work, and Wanda hesitates and Monica tries to warn her again, that unlike Wanda who isn’t actually violent and evil, Heyward will burn down Westview to get what he wants. "Don't let him make you the villain."

"Maybe I already am."

Next door, Agnes is looking out the window, watching them, with a considering look on her face. BECAUSE SHE IS IN ON WHATEVER THIS IS.

Monica is still trying to talk down Wanda. Agnes interrupts. Creepily. And shepherds Wanda away.

Vision and Darcy are thwarted in their journey again. "Oh come on! Kids? What's next? Puppies?"

Vision takes the faster way and intangibles himself out of the van and flies off, leaving Darcy at the endless intersection. "Go on! I'll just meet you there then?"

Back at Agnes's shack of creepy ladies who are freaking up to something. Where are the boys? Oh, Wanda notices the half-eaten PB&Js and the nightmarish kids' show on the telly. Behind her the bunny is in its cage. No sign of the boys. Agnes says they're probably playing in the basement.

Wanda wanders off to find them. But, there are no boys, only horror show creepiness. The basement turns into some weird sort of domed cavern with arches all around and in the middle a weird glowing rectangle.

Agnes comes up behind her. "You didn't think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?" I was wise to you, Agnes. Which, given she was a featured co-star, was probably no great insight on my part. BUT STILL!

"The name's Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear." OH! LOLOLOL! OH, I didn't see that one coming. Wow, you got me, show. It never occurred to me for a second that it was Agatha Harkness.

And now a fantastic montage of Agatha doing tricksy things as Agnes through the series, with the best theme song ever "Who's been messing up everything? It's been Agatha, all along! Who's been pulling every evil string? It's been Agatha, all along. She's insidious. HA HA! So perfidious." Oh man, this is great. "And I killed Sparky, too."

LOL. Great ending.

Hey, an unexpected mid-credits scene of Monica trying to get into the house. Maybe Agnes's? Oh, yeah, she finds a storm cellar and opens the doors, to see a stone stairway with vines or roots growing all around it and zippy electrical sparks and such. Pietro appears behind her. "Snoopers gonna snoop."

Credits!

Well then.

I KNEW IT! I didn't know what I knew, but I knew I knew a thing!

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision liveblog

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dailydoseofserotonin · 3 years

Text

A New Day, A New Dawn, A New Life

Words: 1,806

Beta: @bambii-brambles

Notes: Alternate Universe. Not really any ships, but some are implied, No Quirks but some people do have abilities

Warnings: Nothing besides Bakugo's language

"Report to your stations immediately. This is not a drill. We are under attack. We are under attack!"

The sound of gunfire and explosions ring out loudly as two boys join hands. Just outside, heroes known as the World's Avengers, are in the process of infiltrating a LOV base in Sokovia.

Making her way towards the base, Creati crashes against a forcefield, the impact taking her completely by surprised. "Shit!"

"Language!" Reprimands another voice, Lemillion, as he takes down armed men. "Hatsume, what's the view from upstairs?"

"The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Imasuji's technology is well beyond any other LOV base we've taken"

Landing between several men, a blonde man swings his hammer taking out several of them. This is ChargeBolt. "Sero's scepter must be here. Imasuji couldn't mount this defense without it. At long last"

Several feet away another blonde takes out more men. This one is known as DynaMight. Locking his legs around one of the soldiers, he shifts his weight and swings the man off his feet, effectively knocking him unconscious. "At long last” is lasting a little long, idiots"

Taking cover behind a tree, a duo colored hair man fires multiple arrows. "Yeah. I think we lost the element of surprise"

"Wait a second. No one else is going to deal with the fact that Mirio just said "language?"

"I know" He sighs as he throws his bike at some soldiers driving up in their truck. "It just slipped out"

Inside the base, Imasuji made his way down towards the science lab. "Who gave the order to attack?"

Following behind him, one of his men answers. "Goto Imasuji, it's the Avengers."

"They landed in the far woods, the perimeter guard panicked."

Cursing under his breath, he turned to the scientist, Kyudai Garaki. "They have to be after the scepter." He then turns back to address one of his men. "Can we hold them?"

"They’re the Avengers!"

Clicking his tongue, he turns away. "Deploy the rest of the tanks."

"Yes, sir."

"Concentrate fire on the weak ones. A hit can make them close ranks." He ordered. As soon as they filed out, he turns his attention back on the scientist. "Everything we've accomplished... But we're on the verge of our greatest breakthrough."

"Then let's show them what we've accomplished. Send out the twins." He says. There's a certain mad gleam in his eyes.

"It's too soon."

"It's what they signed up for."

Shaking his head, Imasuji turns away. "My men can hold them." With that said, he makes his way towards the door. Taking the stairs he makes his way to where he knows his men are gathered. Entering the room, he takes a quick survey of the room's occupants, spying the aforementioned twins in the corner.

Once he's in the middle of the room and has their attention, he clears his throat. "We will not yield. They sent their circus freaks to test us. We will send them back in bags. No surrender!"

"No surrender!" They echo.

Quietly, so as to not draw any attention to himself, he turns to Garaki behind and whispers. "I am going to surrender. You will delete everything. If we give the heroes the weapons, they may not look too far into what we've been--"

"The twins." Garaki interrupts.

"They are not ready to take on--"

"No, no. I mean... " He points to where said twins were standing, but are now gone. "Twins."

Back outside, Shoto continues to take out armed men. Just as he goes to fire another shot, lined perfectly at the enemy's bunker, his arrow is snatched right out of the air the minute he releases it. "What the.. " Frowning, he repeats the motion and fires another shot only for the same thing to happen again, however this time a teenage boy saunters onto the field, his arrow in hand. He then winks and before he knows it he's knocked on his back, the wind successfully knocked out of him.

Smirking, the boy looks down at him as he goes by. "You didn't see that coming?" He taunts and then speeds off once more as Shoto quickly rights himself to fire another shot at him.

Rocked from the hit and the boy's sudden emergence, he doesn't see the enemy fire coming until it's too late.

"Peppermint!" Off to the side, Bakugo quickly runs over as his friend goes down.

Not too far from them, Mirio also gets knocked flat by the same speedster. "We have an enhanced in the field." He relays to the others, a bit dazed.

"Shoto's hit!" Bakugo yells, dragging him away from the bunker firing at them. "Somebody want to deal with that damn bunker?" Immediately after he voices this, a hulking mass of muscles barrels into said bunker, taking it out. "Fucking thanks"

As Mirio exchanges blows with the soldiers, he glances in the general direction to where he knows Creati is. "Momo, we really need to get inside."

"I'm closing in." She says, engaged with the enemy. "Hatsume, am I...closing in? Do you see a power source for that shield?"

"There's a particle wave below the north tower."

"Great, I wanna poke it with something." As he says this he fires at the forcefield, successfully bringing it down. "Drawbridge is down, people."

"The enhanced?" Kaminari questions as he lands besides Mirio, his landing creating a small seismic event that knocks nearby soldiers off their feet.

"He's a blur. All the new player's we've faced, I've never seen this. In fact, I still haven't."

"Shoto's hit pretty bad. Fuck, we're gonna need evac." Bakugo relays over the comms.

"I can get Todoroki to the jet. The sooner we're gone the better. You and Momo secure the scepter." Says Kaminari.

As they converse, reinforcements make their way closer towards them.

"Copy that"

Gesturing towards the incoming soldiers, he cocks his head. "It looks like they're lining up."

Shrugging his shoulders, he glances their way. "Well, they're excited."

Twirling his hammer around, Kaminari jumps into the air then slams it down on Mirio's shield with his hammer. The resulting wave from the joint attack knocks the soldiers off their feet and destroys in the incoming tank.

Twirling his hammer once more, he addresses Mirio. "Find the scepter." He says as he flies off.

"And for gosh sake, watch your language!"

Sighing, he looks to his feet. "That's not going away anytime soon."

Entering the LOV base, Momo makes her way through as soldiers immediately begin firing at her. "Please, stop, we can talk this through. As she says this, she knocks them out with explosives from her suit. "It was a good talk."

One of the men groans. "No it wasn't"

Typing away at his computer is Garaki. Clearly he's attempting to clean everything from the system before the heroes get to it, but he's intercepted by Momo who shoots him down.

Stepping out of her suit, she walks over to the computer the man was working at. "Sentry mode" She orders as she looks over the files on screen. "Okay, Hatsume. You know I want it all. Make sure you copy it to Ashido at HQ."

"We're locked down out here." Bakugo says, as he surveys their surroundings.

"Then get to Kirishima, time for a lullaby." Mirio answers.

Back inside the base, Momo continues looking around the room. "I know you're hiding more than files. Hey, H, give me an IR scan of the room, real quick."

"The wall to your left...I'm reading steel reinforcement... and an air current."

She makes her way over towards the wall, mumbling to herself as she goes. "Please be a secret door, please be a secret door, please be a secret door…" She pushes and the wall opens up. "Yay!"

Back outside, Bakugo makes his way towards Red Riot. "Hey, shitty hair. The sun's getting real fucking low."

He scowls at him as Bakugo kneels in front of him and puts out his hand. He regards his hand warily, before reaching out to touch it. Bakugo then begins to stroke his palm slowly, smirking a bit as he calms down.

Pulling his hand away, he stumbles as he begins to shift back into Kirishima. Still smirking, Bakugo watches as he stumbles away.

Inside the base, Mirio encounters Imasuji. "Imasuji Goto. LOV's number one thug."

"Technically, I'm a thug for HPSC" He answers back with a smirk.

"Well then technically you're unemployed. Where's Sero's scepter?"

"Don't worry, I know when I'm beat. You'll mention how I cooperated, I hope." As he speaks, his eyes leaves Mirio's form for a second to something behind him before locking back unto him.

"I'll put it right under illegal human experimentation" He says, unaware of the approaching figure behind him. "How many are there?" He's then blasted into the wall. Scrambling to his feet, his eyes lock unto the boy's own as he quickly leaves, sealing the door shut behind him. "We have a second enhanced. Male. Do not engage."

"You'll have to be faster than--" He's cut off as he's knocked out by Mirio's shield.

"And I got Imasuji."

"Yeah, I got... something bigger." Inside the hidden room, she's found a variety of technology, as well as recovered artifacts from the Battle of New York, including a gigantic Nomu leviathan and some of it's scrapped armor. She then spots the scepter. "Kaminari, I got eyes on the prize."

The same figure who attacked Mirio from before creeps up behind Momo. As soon as he gets close to her, he raises his hand to her head and curls his fingers, releasing a sort of energy that creeps into Momo's mind, turning her irises red briefly. Quickly he steps away.

Blinking rapidly, Momo shakes her head as if to clear her mind. When she glances up once more, the corpse suddenly comes to life and lunges at her. Flinching, she squeezes her eyes shut in reflex. After a few seconds, she opens them again to find her friends laid out before her, dead. Walking closer towards their corpse, she kneels beside Mirio, horror frozen upon his dead face. Suddenly, as if out of a horror film, he grabs her wrist and they lock gazes. "You… could've.. saved us.." Turning away from his body, she looks up to see Nomu's invading Earth, but it all melts away as she's snapped back into reality.

Unbeknownst to her, off to the side are the twins, who watch as she calls her armor towards her to surround her fist.

Stepping forward to stop her, the taller of the two is stopped as his brother raises his hand against his chest. "We're just gonna let them take it?" He questions, frustrated.

Not answering, the brother simply smiles to himself as Momo takes the scepter.

To be continued…

#midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bhna deku #kirishima ejirou #momo yaoyorozu #mirio toogata #kaminari denki #shinso hitoshi #todoroki shōto #shindo yo #overhaul

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moonlit-grove · 3 years

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OKAY SO! @uselessidiotsquad asked about characters having songs, and I showed an entire playlist for my Nightmare Courtier, Dubhan. This post will be going into the songs and why they were chosen for him. Each song will be linked, but the full playlist is here. Some of the reasonings will be extremely short, but... sshhh

The Count of Bleeding Hearts

Dubhan (pronounced like Devin), is Aengus Corbeau’s ex-beloved. The one he had before Kahedins, he was always a little... odd for a beloved. He was a warden, incredibly flirty, and wore being Aengus’ beloved like it was a badge of honor. When he fell to Nightmare, he spent a few years still in the Grove trying to make Aengus fall. His abuse of the raven ramped up, he cut him off from his twin. He vanished from the Grove one night, leaving Aengus shaking and bleeding from the last night with him.

For two months, he was a recruit. Then, he wooed a warden captain to Nightmare, and influenced him to bring along his entire battalion of wardens. He was given title, the Count of Bleeding Hearts. Until recently, he was still in the Caledon and stalking Aengus. Only a year before he was sent to Mount Maelstrom did he let the raven go. He has two new beloveds, @salad-tales’ Oleander and @thoseofuswhoblossom’s Impyreno.

Poor Unfortunate Souls

For a Warrior, Dubhan has always had a little magic. The tiniest amount of mesmer magic, just enough to create minor illusions. As a Count, he seeks to turn those to Nightmare with broken hearts, seduction and betrayal. Though sometimes, to his court, he is cruel. When he needs to be, he is terrifying and powerful... Or if someone touches one of his beloveds toys.

The Other Side

He was a warden. He was a little cruel even under the Dream, but he was a warden. He was a straight-laced warden. Then one of his friends revealed his hand: He was a double agent.

Don’t Mess With Me

He is a Nightmare Count. After Heart of Thorns, the Court of Bleeding Hearts becomes a splinter. They are powerful, they are terrifying. Dubhan is cruel once you’ve fallen. If his chosen toys aren’t around, he might make recruits fill his needs.

Joker’s Song

His relationship with his beloveds is twisted. He is obsessive, one is unwaveringly loyal, the other acts like he doesn’t care. They are a twisted, harmful relationship. But if any of them were to leave, the others would crumble and grieve. They are lost without the others.

Ex’s and Oh’s

“Bleeding Heart” is usually meant to meet someone so kind they feel everything another feels. For Dubhan, it means he makes your heart bleed. He makes you fall, and he leaves.

Paparazzi

He is obsessive in love. He is horribly, terrifyingly obsessive. His beloved becomes his dedication. He loves him more than anything. No one else can touch them... Also, his stalking of Aengus after he became a Courtier. Aengus had left the Grove with his twin and joined a circus. He sometimes got inside.

If I Had You

Oleander’s perspective of the relationship. The squire would do anything for Dubhan. Anything at all for the Count’s affections.

Bad Boy

There was a period, in his relationship with Aengus, when the raven considered breaking up. When he thought about calling it off... But the time spent with Dubhan was thrilling, exhilarating. He considered it, he genuinely did... But he didn’t know how bad it was going to get.

Set Fire to the Love Song

Aengus’ perspective on their relationship, from the honeymoon phase to reflection now that he has Kahedins.

Only Us

During Heart of Thorns, Dubhan only cared about himself and his beloveds. He cared about nothing else. Still, they are the most important to him. No one else could ever match. He cares only for them.

D.T.M

His current feelings about Aengus. A part of him is still obsessed.

I Don’t Want to Hurt You

His feelings about Aengus during the period he stalked him.

I Kissed a Boy

This man is gay. He’s also an ass.

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Kahedins’ feelings on the Count.

Equality

Looking back on his life as a warden and as a Dreamer. He would not go back.

Ricochet

A more somber look into Aengus’ feelings. He can never forget Dubhan, the scars run too deep.

Can’t Be Tamed

The Count cannot be controlled. No one can tame him. Not even his beloveds.

The Spectacle

He is one of the more... flashy of the nobility.

Carnivore

As a warden, he only had so far he could go. There was only so much he could do. As a Dreamer, there was only so much he could have. He tried. He tried to be good. He was destined for Nightmare.

Dark Horse / E.T.

Honestly I can’t explain this one, it just gives me vibes for him and his beloveds.

How To Be A Heartbreaker

His court seduces. They use seduction.

Heathens

The Nightmare Court. Need I say more?

Good Girls Go Bad

Good boys in his case, but well... He is a master at his craft. He knows how to get Dreamers to fall.

Your Love’s a Drug

Another look at Oleander’s feelings on the relationship, maybe also a little of Impyerno’s feelings.

Brainwash

Once again, honestly it’s just vibes.

Threw It Away

Dubhan’s feelings for Aengus directly after the raven and Kahedins became beloveds.

Die For You

Dubhan and his beloveds as they stand currently within the general story.

In The Dark of The Night

This could be read as either: Dubhan during the stage of him stalking Aengus

Or: Dubhan’s long-running “rivalry” with Sariel

#count dubhan #gw2 #lOOK SOME OF THESE ARE LITERALLY JUST VIBES WITH A LITTLE EXPLANATION

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underthedekutree · 4 years

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Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

#long post #legend of zelda #majoras mask #young link #fierce deity #zelda theory #wow i cant believe i never realised i wrote fuckig outset island instead of koholint im dumby af

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gaiyofanfiction · 5 years

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Twisted Karnival - Chapter 4

Stray Kids x Reader

Horror/Thriller/Drama

Twisted Circus!AU

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you SO MUCH for the feedback! Y’all really loving this AU! And it’s defiantly become one of my favorites! Sorry this chapter is so late, a lot has happened between Theresa and I the last week, but we are back! Here is the next chapter! Things are just getting good. ;) ~Liz

Warnings: Mentions of seduction, blood, soul stealing and kidnapping. Possibly more in the future. We also write for 0t9, so Woojin is going to be in this series.

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and in no way represents the idols of Stray kids or JYP.

~~~

[Before Reading, check out the Masterlist and profile boards for each member HERE.]

~~~

Your friend quickly wrapped her arms back around you, squeezing tightly after her slight panic attack over your short disappearance. You leaned your head to the side, accepting the loving hug your friend was forcing upon you.

“I’m alright, I promise..” You looked down at your sorrow-eyed filled friend as her arms slowly removed themselves from your waist.

“I-I know, I was just worried. This place is packed with strange people we don’t know… and there’s honestly no telling what could happen if the wrong person found you.” Your friends words strangely struck you, making you think back to past events of the night. You slowly close your eyes, taking in a deep breath as flashes of Felix and Jeongin downtown, Jisung and Hyunjin behind the tent, Minho and his tigress, and Chan the ringleader all simultaneously popped into your head. You shake your head slightly. ‘I think I’m losing my mind.’

Your friend slowly pulls herself away, grabbing her bag of popcorn and watching the ring in anticipation. You took another deep breathe, a quick flash of Jisung’s softened lips pressed against yours, followed by a crooked smirk. You tapped the side of your temple, slowly moving your fingertips to your lips.

'Seriously, what the hell is happening to me?!'

Back behind the main stage, Jisung was peeking his head through the curtain, scanning over the audience while Felix and Jeongin finished preparing for his performance. His eyes roamed over the many faces, quickly setting his sights on you. A smirk curled against his lips as a chuckle fell.

“There you are…” His smirk continued to widen as Jeongin handed Jisung his freshly polished helmet. “Is everything ready?”

Jeongin quickly looked behind him noticing Felix working on the final ramp. “Looks like we have one last prop to prepare, so if you want to start your very long drawn out introduction, now would be the best time to do it.”

Jeongin cackled beneath his breath, quickly finding the back of Jisungs hand connecting with his head. Jeongin rubbed his head roughly, quickly running back to help Felix. Chan moved up behind Jisung who was focused on his leather gloves.

“Knock em dead, eh?” Chan smirked widely as he looked to the crowd. “You and Hyunjin are my main attractions for this show. This crowd’s adrenaline has been off the charts tonight, and I need you and Hyunjin to keep it that way. Do you understand?” Jisung slipped on his final glove, matching his crooked smirk to Chan’s.

“Hey, adrenaline is my specialty.” He winked cockily as he stepped forward, waiting for his queue. Chan shook his head laughing.

“Oh is it? I thought seducing women was your specialty?” His brow raised as Jisung’s head snapped back, falling into a round of laughter.

“Hey, who said I can’t be multi-talented?” They continued to laugh up until Woojin came rushing up from behind another curtain. His eyes locking dead on Jisung. Chan stepped slightly aside feeling the unnerving tension between them. Woojin’s eyes began to glow a bright hue of white as Jisungs expression moved to a cocky, lip biting smile.

“I know what you did Jisung. Don’t think you’re going to…”

Chan quickly stepped forward pushing his right-hand man back. “Alright alright, this is not the time for your two’s bullshit.” Jisung and Woojin lowly growled at the other, eyes slowly turning towards their leader. “We have a FULL house tonight. I need you BOTH to be on your best behavior. I need everything to go smoothly tonight. Do you understand me?” Chan’s eyes fell into a bright luminating red, bringing Woojin’s and Jisung’s head down. “We all know how important tonight is. If something even slips up, we have a chance of losing everything.” Jisung and Woojin nodded together.

“Understood boss.” Jisung slowly raised his head, stepping up to the main curtain as Chan quickly pushed past him, sending one last threatening glance. Chan pushed past the fabric, arms raised high into the air. The crowd roared with excitement.

“Welcome back my beauties! Were you able to find your way around okay? I know things are a bit chaotic, but it seems everyone made it back to their seats safely.” Chans eyes slowly moved towards you, locking with yours. You looked away for a moment and slowly turning your head back to notice his gaze had not moved. He gives you a subtle wink before continuing.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, we’ve reached the main part of our show!” The crowd jumped to their feet screaming loudly. “You are about to meet two of my craaaziest performers. They will do literally anything to knock you out of your seats, and begging at their knees for me! They define the laws of physics, and even… death itself.” He snickered behind his mic. “I present to you… Jisung the Daredevil!”

Jeongin quickly exited the ring with Chan as Jisung made his way towards the center. His smirk ranging from one ear to the other as both girls and even boys in the crowd fawned over him. He slid his hand back through his hair, tongue sliding against his lips. Felix rushed over, handing him a mic.

“Wow… I had no idea there would be so many cuties here tonight. Be sure to find me after the show, ladies.” He smirked heavily, looking in your direction. Your throat felt thick, leaning back against the bench.

Chan and Woojin looked out to the ring as Jisung continued to showboat across the tent, making his way towards his position. Felix pushed Jisungs bike to the center of the ring, holding his helmet as he propped himself up in the seat. He revved the engine, watching the crowd. He growled lowly, revving the engine louder getting the crowd to scream out his name. A wide smirk spread across his lips, nodding his head.

“That’s more like it.” Jisung took his helmet, hiding his identity behind the darkened shades. He revved his engine for the last time as Felix ran off to the side of the ring. Chan continued to watch from the sidelines as Jisung began to spin in the center of the arena, smoke surrounding the entire bike. He spun once more, side of the bike leaning over the ground as Jisung sped off towards the first ramp. As soon as he hit the ramp, his bike shoots up into the air, spinning around and dropping back down onto the other side.

Suddenly, Jisung disappeared in a cloud of smoke, reappearing on top of the highest set ramp. He looked out to the roaring crowd, winking in your direction just before taking off down the long dipped ramp. Your eyes widened as he tossed his helmet from his head, jumping a gap that ranged almost as long as two semi-trucks. Jisung chuckled lowly, spinning and releasing himself from the bike. He tossed the bike upwards, spinning in the air, tongue straight out as a loud excited scream fell from his lips. He mounted his bike in the air once more and cleared the gap, landing on top of another ramp. He revved his engine loudly as the crowd jumped to their feet chanting his name. Jisung rolled his tongue along his lower lip, revving his engine up once more.

“Time to get your adrenaline really going…” he smirked widely, spinning his back tire just before speeding down another ramp. Everyone watched closely as he sped up towards another ramp. This one standing taller than the others at almost a ninety-degree angle. He revved loudly, clearing 100mp just before tossing his bike up the ramp, him flying behind it. Your heart began to race as Jisung’s hands fell from the handle-bars. He stretched his arms and legs out, sticking his tongue out once more, and flashing a cute wink towards the crowd.

As the bike began to slowly fall back, Jisung was ready to showboat just a little more before he took his leave. His eyes shot towards you, quickly noticing the rapid movement of your chest. His eyes began to glow as he snapped his attention back towards his bike. She was falling towards him. He waited. Everyone to their feet watched in anticipation. Felix set off the smoke machines, shrouding Jisung as his eyes began to glow brighter as a loud crashing sound fell over everyone’s ears. You quickly moved towards the barricade, looking for the possibly destroyed bike.

Jisung slowly reappeared, bike sitting underneath him. He smirked widely looking over your shocked expression.

“Aww, how cute. You were actually worried about me.” His tongue connected with his lower lip, slightly biting down just before flashing you with one more wink. The crowd roared loudly as Jisung reappeared unharmed. Both girls and boys swooned over his breathtaking smile. Jisung chuckled lowly, slowly making his way out of the ring.

“Did everyone enjoy our Daredevil Jisung’s performance?!” Chan walks out into the center ring, his hat raised high in the air. Jisung continued to smirk heavily behind the curtain as he could feel the adrenaline in the air as the crowd screamed out once more. Chan chuckled darkly into the mic. “Well, if you enjoyed that, you’re definitely going to die for our final act of the night! Please put your hands together for the dangerous, seductive high wire act, Hyunjin!”

The crowd continues to go wild as the lights in the arena grow dim. Suddenly a spotlight clicks, aimed at the roof of the tent. You gasp at the beautiful man highlighted over by spotlight. Hyunjin looked down, his gaze sliding over the audience until his eyes lock on you. Your eyes lock immediately with his as he gives you the goofiest smile making you giggle.

As the music starts up, Hyunjin poses for a short second. The crowd falls silent as they watch in awe as the talented boy steps out onto the thin wire hanging several feet in the air. His arms are straight out at his sides as he tiptoes slowly across the thin piece of wire. He keeps his head forward, nearly blocking the entire world out as he makes his way to the center.

He proceeds to dance along the wire, teasing the crowd with his perfect stance, pretending to nearly fall. Jeongin stood to the side, tossing random props towards Hyunjin. The crowd watched as Hyunjin not only kept perfect balance on the thinnest wire but juggled everything that was being tossed towards him. He threw rings three feet into the air, catching them around his arms and neck, just to remain completely still on the wire.

He quickly releases the props to the ground and tosses the rings back to Jeongin, preparing for his next stunt. The crowd watched in amazement. He squats, quickly jumping from the wire into the air. You gasp loudly as he flips once over before landing onto one hand, feet stretched out above him in the air. The crowd cheers as he gives everyone the biggest smile.

Suddenly, Hyunjin begins to wobble back and forth. Your eyes widen along with his as he quickly becomes unstable. The wire continues to wobble further causing the audience to gasp as they jumped to their feet. Hyunjin watched the wobbling wire, hiding a devilish smirk as he began to fall slowly to his death. The crowd screamed as you pushed heavily against the barricade, waiting for another performer to come to the rescue. He slowly began to flip, the crowd on the edge of their seats. Some closed and covered eyes in fear of what was to come.

Nearing the ground, Hyunjin quickly backflips back around, landing his feet softly against the ground in front of you. The crowd goes nuts after witnessing this near-death marvel. However, Hyunjin wasn’t paying any attention to the screaming crowd who were practically begging for more. His eyes were solely on you. He took a step towards you, his goofy smile reappearing from earlier gone only to be replaced by a fearsome gaze. You swallow the lump in your throat, cowering back into your seat. It was no use. Hyunjin quickly snatched up your hand, placing his plump lips to the back, giving you a gentle kiss. Your eyes glaze over in a daze.

“My little doll, soon you will be all ours…” A chill burst down your spine as his eyes flash a bright shade of green. He chuckles lowly, releasing your hand.

Without another word, Hyunjin stepped back, bowing towards the roaring crowd. You snap yourself out of the daze, looking around. Did no notice what just happened between you two? It was almost as if… time stopped, and it had just been you and Hyunjin.

Suddenly, the tent grows dark. You hear a poof just before the lights turn back up. You see Hyunjin had disappeared and Chan was now standing in his place in the center of the ring. The crowd claps loudly, hollering, excited to see the finale.

Chan’s platform slowly began to rise into the air, the other performers slowly making their way back to the center of the arena. The crowd cheered as the finale was close at hand. Jisung and Hyunjin stepped forward dropping their props in preparation for what was to come. Chan looked to Woojin as he nodded his head. Changbin tightened his grip against his torches, waiting for the final signal. Felix and IN stood, hidden in the back of the crowd where they couldn’t be seen. Chan’s platform stopped as the arena slowly grew dim.

“I would like to thank you all for coming tonight.” Chan’s smirk grew longer. “Did you all enjoy tonight’s show?!” He screamed, pushing the crowd to the edge of their seats. Chan nodded his head happily looking back towards his performers. Coming in from the side, Seungmin was pushing a giant vessel into the middle of the ring. Your eyes slowly narrowed looking over the vase like sculpture. Something seemed… oddly familiar. You’ve seen that glow before. An uneasy feeling building within your chest.

“Unfortunately, this will be the last show you will ever see.” Chan says darkly and rolled his head back, smirk growing longer. The crowd continued to roar as the sound of heavy locks hitting the ground began to fill the air. Your friend began to panic noticing the enclosing area. Your head shot back towards the middle of the ring, noticing Chan’s eyes were glowing a bright shade of red as he slowly began to levitate from the platform. Your eyes widen in fear.

“What the hell…?”

Seungmin kicked the vessel causing a loud roar to fall over panicked ears. Citizens began fainting left and right. Heads smacking against the metal benches, eyes rolling back as they all fell one by one. Your eyes grew wider as the light shining from the vessel grew brighter.

Suddenly, nine pairs of eyes were on you. Chan snaps his fingers and signaled towards Hyunjin and Jisung. He points towards you, leaving you in pure fear as an evil smirk falls over his lips.

“Grab her.”

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elliot-elliot · 4 years

Text

Things i forgot about in PJO/HOO

TLT:

Percy accidentally fired a war cannon into a school bus

He also accidentally made his entire class fall into an aquarium tank thing

Grover cries when he’s frustrated

Grover has a note excusing him from PE “for the rest of his life”

Halfway though the school year their old math teacher had a nervous breakdown

Once, Percy told Grover that he didn’t think mrs Dodds was human and Grover was deadass just like “yes. You’re right” completely seriously

Chiron has tournament days where he would dress up in Roman armor

Percy assumed all the weird weather was because of global warming

Percy called his English teacher an old sot

Grover is a terrible liar

MASSIVE BLUE SOCK

Grover’s bladder acts up when he gets upset

Sally’s parents died in a plane crash when she was 5, and was raised by her uncle who didn’t really care about her

Sally wanted to be a novelist

She had to quit school her senior year to take care of said uncle, who got cancer

Gabe made Percy provide his gambling funds, and Percy said that if he didn’t, Gabe would “punch his lights out”

Percy has nightmares about Mrs Dodds

Percy genuinely liked Yancy Academy

Percy did the warding off evil gesture towards Gabe, and the screen door shut so hard “it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the stairs as if he’d been shot from a cannon”

Percy was stalked by a cyclops in 3rd grade

In preschool, he strangled a snake with his bare hands, and his mom found him playing with it like a rope

At the cabin, grover cursed in Ancient Greek, and Percy understood it perfectly

Percy thought Grover was a donkey from the waist down

Percy tried to get the Minotaurs attention by waving his red rain coat

Percy said he would rather live on the streets or pretend he was 17 and join the army if it meant not living with Gabe

Percy said that Mr D looked like a Cherub

They have satyrs at most schools

There was a different Latin teacher for the first week of the school, but Chiron convinced him to take a leave of absence

Mr D plays pinochle with the satyrs

There’s an orientation film

Grover eats mr D’s Diet Coke cans

Probation in the 1900s was Zeus’s punishment to Mr D

Percy likes basketball

Percy tripped when coming into the Hermes cabin for the first time

Most teachers are literally monsters

For a mortal, nectar and ambrosia turns their blood to fire and their skin to sand

Clarisse calls Annabeth “wise girl”

Percy accidentally sprayed Annabeth with toilet water

Chiron told Percy that he might be considered a myth in 2000 years

Luke pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and Percy thought Luke was gonna gut him

Percy is really good at canoeing

Luke’s the best swordsman they’d had in 300 years

Percy was able to disarm Luke on his first try after he poured water on his head

Hitler was a son of hades, since WW11 was the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of hades on the other

Houdini went on a quest to the underworld

In capture the flag, clarisse tried to cut Percy’s hair

Percy apologized for the water healing his Injuries

Someone left a newspaper about Percy and his mom going missing inside his doorway

Mr D wanted to Spontaneous Combust Percy

It’s illegal to make copies of Zeus’s lightning bolt

CHB has a hydra head from Woodstock

The oracle told Percy the prophecy through the image of Gabe and his friends

Grover eats pinochle cards “like potato chips”

Luke made Percy blush almost as much as Annabeth blushes when she’s around Luke

Chiron told Percy only to use his sword in emergencies

Mortals aren’t important enough to be killed by celestial bronze

Percy was famous for loosing pens at school

Annabeth was explaining the Athens rivalry thing to Percy, and he was like “they must have really liked olives” and Annabeth got mad and then he was like “Now, if she’d invited pizza—*that* i could understand” which made her even more mad, and Argus then winked at Percy

Annabeth gave Percy her hat so he could escape off the bus

Grover was gonna defend himself from the furies with a tin can

Grover ties Mrs Dodds’s legs up with her own whip

Percy told Mrs Dodds to eat his pants in Latin

Medusa turned Grover’s uncle to stone

Medusa is/sounds middle eastern

Percy told Medusa that they were from a traveling circus, and when they were alone Annabeth told Percy “your head is full of kelp”

Grover told Medusa that he takes vitamins for his ears

Satyrs can’t get migraines

Percy fucking mailed Medusa’s head to mount Olympus, and he signed the package “with best wishes”

GLADIOLA THE FUCKING PINK POODLE

Annabeth appeared on her dads doorstep in a golden cradle

Annabeth calls Grover “goat boy”

Percy hates confined spaces

I JUST REALIZED THIS HIS FIRST OUT OF 2 (i think 2?? Maybe there’s more??) TRAUMATIC ELEVATOR EXPERIENCES

The chimera has a rhinestone collar that says “Chimera— rabid, fire-breathing, poisonous— if found, please call Tartarus—ext. 954”

Echidna told Percy what she is— the mother of all monsters, and Percy was like “isn’t that a type of anteater”

The chimera poisoned Percy

Percy jumped from the arch assuming that it would kill him, in order to protect the mortals that were on the arch

Percy fucking lit a lighter at the bottom of the Mississippi

The campers were taking sides— Zeus or Poseidon

Gods can’t steal each other’s items directly

Percy said the leather on ares’s motercycle looked like “Caucasian human skin”

Percy said that ares’s was handsome

Percy said he broke clarisse’s spear and ares was like “oh dope”

Ares threatened to turn Percy into a prairie dog

Ares gave them a bag of double stuffed Oreos

Percy thought that the reason he could talk to zebras but not lions was because of another learning disability

They released a zebra into Las Vegas

Percy snapped Annabeth out of the lotus haze by looking her in the eyes and saying “spiders. Large, hairy spiders”

Percy threw away ares’s backpack, but once they left the lotus hotel, it reappeared on his shoulders

THE WATER BEDS

The lotus card had infinite money, and the cab driver referred to her as “your highness”, which Annabeth likes

They let the cab driver keep the (infinite) change

When at santa monica, percy looked out at the ocean, thought about how 2/3rds of the world is covered in water, and wondered how he could be the son of someone so powerful

Percy just. Fucking walks into the water and annabeth is like “percy what the fuck are you doing” and headass just keeps walking until he’s fully submerged

A mako shark nuzzled him like a dog

Percy used to see sea spirits smiling at him in the waves at Montauk beach

Houdini could “escape even the depths of tartarus… damn, talk about foreshadowing

Percy told the bus driver he was a stunt double for a bunch of child actors

Percy said L.A. reminded him of Ares

They got attacked by a gang

CRUSTY

Percy tricked crusty into getting into his own beds, and percy then cut his head off

Grover told Charon that all 3 of them drowned in a bathtub, and Charon looked mildly impressed

Percy bribed Charon into letting them in

Percy’s Traumatic Elevator Experience count so far: 2

The river Styx is polluted

Annabeth held percy’s hand on the boat

Thomas Jefferson is a judge of the underworld

Grover compared Asphodel to standing in a wheat field in Kansas forever

Cerberus is a purebred Rottweiler

Annabeth played fetch with Cerberus

Annabeth promised Cerberus that she would come back and play fetch with him again

Cerberus considers Annabeth a friend

Percy saw things in the Fields Of Punishment that he “didnt want to describe”

Percy said he wanted to go to the Isles of The Blest when he dies

THEY ALMOST FALL INTO TARTARUS.

Percy said that Hades’s eyes reminded him of Hitler’s

Percy wondered if Hades’s underwear was made of trapped souls like his robe was

Percy interrupted Hades to tell him that Charon wanted a raise

Hades threatened to “stop death”

PERCY TOLD HADES TO PLAY WITH CERBERUS MORE

Annabeth gave percy her necklace to wear for good luck (with fighting ares)

Percy jumped over ares on a 6-foot wave

Percy fucking told the entire city of LA that they could get a free appliance, and he gave them Gabe’s phone number. Fucking love this kid.

Finally, a non-traumatic elevator experience

Zeus went to purify his bolt in the waters of Lemnos

Podeiden told percy that his rebelliousness was because “the sea does not like to be restrained”

Poseidon said that sally is a goddess among women

Gabe fucking made Sally go to work when she got back

Percy didnt know that Gabe had been hitting sally, until he saw her flinch when Gabe raised his hand

Poseiden sent him Medusa’s head back to use against gabe

The ares cabin made Percy’s laurel and painted “loser” on it

Sally sold her “sculpture” to an art collector in Soho, got a new apartment, and started going to college

The Soho gallery called the sculpture “a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism”

Percy told luke he misses being on the quest

Ares caught luke with the bolt and helm

Grover “confused the (flying shoe) curse”

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #things i forgot #the lightning thief #heros of olympus #rick riordan #uncle rick

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