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mogkiompmovieguide · 1 year

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The Beach Bum

Harmony Korine, U.S, (2019)

Harmony Korine a passé une grande partie de sa carrière cinématographique à guider son public dans les profondeurs de l’enfer dans des films comme le pathétique Gummo, le cauchemar schizophrène Julien Donkey-Boy, et son opus millénaire surréaliste, drame décalé de 2007, Mister Lonely, sur une communauté de sosies sociopathes.

Dans son dernier film, The Beach Bum, l’artiste, écrivain, poète, réalisateur Korine a peut-être enfin trouvé ce qu’il cherchait depuis le début : un peu de paradis.

Le récit et l’intrigue ne se suivent pas, comme dans aucune des œuvres de Korine, encore moins dans The Beach Bum ; son récit du poète hédoniste bizarre Moondog (Matthew McConaughey) sa quête pour finir son grand roman américain pour l’amour de son épouse, Minnie (Isla Fisher), se déploie doucement comme des nuées de fumée d'herbe qui s'évaporent de la bouche grisonnante d’un écrivain cramé / vagabond céleste. Korine est heureux de laisser son film naviguer, se prélasser dans des moments particuliers, se remémorer elliptiquement le passé, ou éclater brièvement dans le futur. Si Trash Humpers s'adressait à un public adepte de cringe et found footages absurdes, il pouvait être comparé structurellement à morceau délétère de Brainbombs mélangé au Rock lo-fi et maladif de Daniel Johnston, The Beach Bum est plutôt un disque de Jimmy Buffett repris par les Butthole Surfers. Le paysage change en cours de conversation, et le film supplie un écrivain de sortir le mot "hallucinogène" pour décrire sa relation au temps et à l’espace. C’est une approximation agréable, dynamique, joyeuse, avec un Moondog bouillonnant d’une histoire à l’autre, sans jamais ruminer.

Vêtu de robes à fleurs ou d'une chemise jaune canari surdimensionnée mal boutonnée, McConaughey puise facilement dans l’attitude hippie-dippy de Moondog. Rien à voir avec le réel surréaliste, clochard, Louis Hardin, le célèbre viking de la 42eme rue et compositeur de génie aveugle errant à travers les rues glacées de New-York.

Ici Moondog est un pitre Gonzo, défini par un goût pour l’excès enraciné dans la bienveillance et un véritable désir de trouver le peu de bonne vie qui lui reste à offrir. Il navigue autour de Key West et Miami, flottant presque dans les airs, il ne trébuche pas comme un crabe sur terre. Il jette des bières et brûle les fumes comme un pro, se frotte à Snoop Dog et Martin Lawrence, Whack le fana des dauphins (propriétaire d’un perroquet bourré de coke), émettant un rire de hyène infusée d’euphorie et de bonté naïve. Le personnage se dandine, prêt pour la suite, même lorsqu’il décide d’aller en cure de désintoxication.

La marque inhabituelle de Korine de film abrasif et provocateur (il a été le premier réalisateur américain à prendre le "Vœu de chasteté" et faire un film Dogme 95 - le manifeste danois appelant à une approche de retour à la base à la forme), il emploie de véritables armes à feu, et sème les détritus pour signifier un rêve américain atrophiant. Pour ceux qui connaissent son travail, la première dizaine de minutes de The Beach Bum va déstabiliser, une comédie, le film est imprégné d’une tendresse et d’une sentimentalité réfléchie. Mais bientôt, une extase gorgée de soleil se répand dans la cinématographie saturée de Benoît Debie, tout comme une manière détournée d’explorer le processus créatif de Moondog.

Peu importe si la poésie du Moondog est bonne, selon les normes conventionnelles. La façon dont il négocie son art (il est souvent, à juste titre ou autrement, appelé un génie) se fait en évitant les tropes d’artiste-film et autre subvertit ; la qualité sinueuse du film ne cède jamais à la trajectoire typique de montées-et-chutes pour Moondog et son œuvre. Au contraire, il lui permet de se délecter de sa méthode, de se livrer à "l’excès total" pour débloquer ses jus créatifs. Le meilleur ami de Moondog Lingerie (Snoop Dogg) lui offre une souche d’herbe très forte qu’il appelle "le serein blanc-bec ." Moondog fume, il baise, se saoule, écrit ; rincer, répéter. Mais contrairement à d’autres portraits d'artiste dépeints comme 'jeunes' génies, Moondog sait que l’horloge tourne, à la recherche de son héritage. Aussi déterminé qu’il soit à compléter son livre, il est moins obsédé par sa propre pertinence ; il valorise les plaisirs sensuels de base plutôt que la richesse.

Korine offre des moments à Moondog pour réfléchir aux conséquences de ses actions. Ce n’est pas vaniteux, il y a une insolence dans la brève détermination du personnage à se repentir; il ne se débarrasse pas de l’excès, la transformation émotionnelle qu’il est invité à subi le libère, et devient une ode touchante à l’amour et l’art. Le film de Korine est un baume inhabituel mais nécessaire, un guide sauvage et merveilleux pour trouver la compassion et la beauté dans les endroits les plus étranges : la Floride.

Moondog et Minnie jouent la ballade pop existentielle de Peggy Lee "Is That Only There Is?" en dansant, en fumant en buvant le corps et les émotions de l'autre, leur passion, offrant une sorte d'euphorie que les drogues ne peuvent que substituer. Cette combinaison vertigineuse, drôle et émouvante ; leur amour l’un pour l’autre offrant une sorte de high que les drogues ne peuvent qu'accompagner, sans en restituer la vraie nature. Cette combinaison vertigineuse, drôle et émouvante d’un amour pour le processus créatif, et l’amour pour les corps autour d’eux, suggèrent que Korine a finalement trouvé dans ses films le Ciel que ses personnages ont toujours poursuivi. Un rêve américain présenté comme perverti, et en décomposition, mais éclaboussé par un rayonnement néon, trempé dans le soleil, l’étreinte brillante de corps, de plaisir et d’art de The Beach Bum se ressent comme un paradis.

Le film > ICI

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

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The Parent Trap

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of war, death and loss of parent/spouse

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Based on this request!

Part 2- The Mistletoe Proposal

---

Emily, your daughter, sat beside a little boy on the playground bench while the other kids ran around in the sun waiting for their parents. “Hey” you smiled at the kids on the bench, you sat beside your daughter, she gave you a half hug. “Mom, this is Christopher, he’s my friend. He’s in my class and he likes to paint just like me!” she gushed, looking over at the little boy who had a smile on his face.

“Hi Christopher, I'm y/n. It’s nice to meet you” you leaned forward so he could see you. He gave you a big smile, the two children told you about their day at school, how they learned about amphibians and reptiles, their teacher showed them a video about frogs.

“Christopher, are you waiting for someone sweetheart ?”

“My dad” he looked over at you

“Chris, buddy!” a man’s voice shouted, looking over your shoulder you saw a man running towards you guys.

“Dad!” the little boy shouted back as he stood up, you helped him with his crutches as his father came over. “Hi bud” the man picked him up whilst he hugged him. The back of his t-shirt read “Los Angeles Fire Department”

“Dad, this is Emily my friend” Emily stood up, “Hi Chris's dad” she gave him a toothy grin, she was missing a few teeth. The man chuckled as he put Christopher down, “Hi Emily, I'm Eddie” he stuck his hand out, she gave him a high five which made him smile at her.

The interaction made your heart swell, he was good with kids.

“You are?” he looked at you, “I'm y/n, Emily’s mom” you smiled at him, he gave you a nod.

“Mommy?” Emily tugged on your hand, “yeah love bug?”

“Can Chris come over for a playdate now?”

“Oh baby,” you glance at Eddie, “I don’t know. Maybe Chris and his dad have somewhere to be”

“We don’t,” Christopher answers for his father, “can I go dad? please?” the boy looks up at him. Eddie was a sucker for his son clearly, anyone that looked at them could see how much he loved him, he’d do anything to keep him happy.

“Uh- okay yeah. That’s fine” Eddie gave in, just as you suspected. “Christopher come in!” your daughter walked up with Christopher, you watched them with a smile on your face, you and Eddie following behind them.

“Hey, sorry about them ambushing you like that. If you have somewhere to be, we can reschedule ?” you offered, you didn't want him to feel pressured just because the kids wanted to hang out.

“Nah it’s cool, we were just going to go home and play video games or something” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, “I'm sure he rather the company than a lame afternoon at home with dad” his comment made you smile. “Em! Wait up!” you jogged to catch up to the kids, Eddie followed behind you.

“Uh let me give you the address” you turned to Eddie, “oh that’s cool, I'll just follow behind you.” he said nonchalantly.

“I didn't drive today”

“Oh,” he paused for a moment, “how about you guys come with us and you can direct me? Maybe we can stop for pizza or something ?” he looks down at the kids, “how does that sound?” he asks them, a loud mess of “yes” and excited shouting filled your ears, Eddie led the 3 of you over to this truck. He lifted Christopher into the truck and proceeded to do the same with Emily. “Cool necklace!” she picked up the pendant on his neck, he smiled at her “Emily!” you gave her a look, Eddie shook his head. “It’s cool isn't it ? it’s my Saint Christoper’s pendant”

“Like Christopher ?” she asked him, still fiddling with the pendant.

“Yeah, just like Christopher”

Eddie got in the truck, he drove to the pizza place down the road from the school. Eddie asked the kids what they wanted, they both wanted the same thing but kept changing their minds each time they decided. “How about I get both and you choose when we get home?” he offered the kids, they nodded.

Home. The idea of a home with Eddie flicker through your mind monetarily, you shook the idea from your head. You had only just met this man, what's wrong with you.

“Oh wait!” you were digging through your pocket, Eddie’s eyes practically burning a hole into you.

Pulling some cash from your pocket, “here, for the food” Eddie refused to take it from you.

“I got it, don’t worry about it” he said as he opened the door.

“It’s a lot” you went to give him the cash again, he rested his hand on yours. “Next time, this time is on me” he smiled. Eddie left you and the kids in the car. You looked over at the backseat, Chris and Emily were whispering about something but a phone rang, interrupting their conversation. “It’s your dad’s phone kiddo” you looked at Chris and then at the phone, “it says it’s Buck, do you want to answer it ?” Chris nodded. He answered once you passed him the phone, he had it on speaker.

“Eddie! are we on for tonight ?” the man shouted from the other end of the call. “Buck!” Chris laughed. “Christopher! Hey buddy, where’s your dad?”

“Inside”

“And where are you ?”

“In the car”

“By yourself?” you could hear the panic in his voice, you spoke up.

“Hi, I'm y/n, I'm Emily’s mom uh- she’s friends with Christoper. They’re having a playdate. Eddie is inside getting pizza, he’ll be back in a few” you explain, the line goes silent for a moment. “Oh, okay. Can you tell Eddie to call me back ?”

“Sure” you say, “bye Buck!” Christoper says which made the man chuckle, “bye buddy, have fun at your playdate”

Christopher handed the phone back to you as Eddie came back to the truck. “There’s my phone, I thought I left it at the station” he said, getting in. “Oh no, your friend called, Christoper answered”

“Who was it?” he looked back at his son

“Buck” he smiled at his dad, Eddie smiled back at him, “He asked for you to call him back ?”

“Thanks” was all he said as he started driving. You directed him to your house, which was the opposite direction of the pizza place. “The one with the red door,” you pointed at house number 56, “that one” Eddie pulled into your driveway. Once again, he helped the kids get out of the truck, you turned to the kids, “do you want to eat inside or outside ?” you asked, they looked at each other, “outside!” they simultaneously shouted. Unlocking the front door, the kids walked in, Emily led him to the backdoor and made their way outside.

“Plates?” Eddie asked, you turned your attention to the fridge. “Uh cupboard to the left of the fridge” you leaned over into the fridge, reaching for the lemonade. “Wait does he drink lemonade- oh sorry!” You bumped into Eddie, his arm reaching for your arm to steady you.

“It’s okay, yeah he does” Eddie smiled, leaving you in the house as he went out to see the kids. Hands on the counter, you steadied your breathing for a moment, you were basically pressed up against your daughter’s friend’s ridiculously hot father. Pouring the lemonade into the glasses, you take a moment before going to pick up the glasses, right as you reach for them, Eddie’s hand touches yours, startling you. “Holy shit!” your hand clutches at your chest, Eddie has a slight red tint on his cheeks, you couldn’t tell if it was a blush or from the heat. “I’m sorry” he said, giving your shoulder a squeeze before getting the glasses. “I don’t mean to keep scaring you like that” “Oh, no worries. Just been a little jumpy lately” following him out the backdoor.

Christopher and Emily sat in the shade and were painting something on the two giant tablecloths you had given them. “Why tablecloths?” Eddie glanced at you, then turning his attention back to the children. He sat beside you on the porch swing you had outside. “It’s big enough for them to express all their idea without having to squish them into one tiny piece of paper, plus you can use it as a tablecloth afterwards,” you laughed “you couldn't imagine how excited they are when they see it on the table” Eddie nodded, smiling at his son who was covered in paint beside a paint covered Emily.

“We should get going soon, I'm sure your husband-” you looked at him as he paused mid-sentence, “or wife, will be home soon” his comment earned a loud cackle from you, a hand covering your mouth. “Oh god no,” you hand rested on his arm, “there’s no husband or wife in the picture, just me and love bug”

“Oh sorry, I just assumed you were married”

“No worries, I'm sure the missus or mister is waiting for you at home too”

Eddie shook his head, “Christopher’s mom, my wife- my ex I guess, she passed last year” he said quietly, his eyes fixated on the little boy sitting in the grass. The smile faded from your face, “Eddie, I'm so sorry” you whispered. Emily’s father was never in the picture, the two of you never had to experience that type of loss or hurt. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for Eddie to lose his wife, for Christopher to lose his mom. “It’s okay. Truthfully, she had just come back into our lives. Christoper was really enjoying his time with her, so was I” his voice wavered for a moment before clearing his throat.

“What about you ? Where’s Emily’s dad ?” he turned to you, clearly wanting to get the topic off of her, you indulged his questions.

“Hooked up with Emily’s dad at a college party, found out I was pregnant with her a few weeks later. I told him, he said he didn't want anything to do with “that thing”” you used air quotes with the last part,

“I'm sorry, he sounds like an ass. No offence” Eddie looked at you making you laugh.

“None taken, I regret him with my whole being but I never regretted having her. She’s my best friend” you looked over at your daughter.

“I wasn't here for the first few years of Christopher’s life, I was in Afghanistan. I would tell myself that I'm doing it for him but honestly, I regret that. I missed all his firsts, the first steps, the first words... I know I'm here now but I can’t help but think what if I didn't make it home ? What would have happened?” you rested your hand on Eddie’s hand, “hey, you can’t think like that. Yeah, it sucks you missed the firsts but think about how many more there are. The first day of high school, first date, first car, first graduation, first time picking him up from a party” you smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze.

The sky was now a reddish orange colour, it was around 8pm and you hadn’t realized how much time had gone by. “Alright kids, let’s see those paintings” you walked over to look at the paintings, “Eddie, I think we have two future artists here” he walked over too, he smiled at the kids and their paintings. “Y/n, I think you’re right. but buddy, we gotta get home” he helped Chris up, Emily tugged herself up by clinging to your leg, “you good there bug ?” your hand rested atop her head. “Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Can Chris and his dad stay for dinner?” Your daughter leaned from behind your leg and gave Chris a thumbs up which he returned. “What are you two up to ?” you asked her,

“Nothing! Can they stay ? pleaseeee” she begged you, you glanced at the boy and his father.

“Bubba, I don't know. I’m sure Eddie’s got work in the morning, you and Chris both have school. They probably want to get home”

“Actually,” Eddie turned to you, “if it’s okay with you, I don't mind staying”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Chris would like that too” You nodded, Eddie picked up Christoper with one arm and came over to pick up Emily with the other. Once again, your heart swells at the sight of this man and the children.

Dinner was quiet, it was nice having a full table for once, normally it was just the two of you. “How was school guys?” Eddie asks the kids at the table, you were in the kitchen putting away the leftovers. “We painted frogs and saw a video about them” Christopher told him, Emily adding on to his statement.

“Our teacher said she went on a date last night” she and Christopher giggled.

“Did she?” Eddie chuckled, humouring the children.

“I think you should go on a date with Emily’s mom” Christoper says to his father, you can hear Eddie cough after almost choking on his soda.

“I promise she’s nice” your daughter says, you hold back a laugh from the kitchen.

“Why do you guys go watch some tv? I’ll take these to the kitchen” the sound of clattering dishes and little feet was the sound that filled the house for the next few moments.

Eddie rests the plates in the sink and turns on the tap. “I got it, don’t worry” you tell him, he shakes his head. “Please, you made dinner and let us hang out here all afternoon, the least I can do is wash the dishes”

“So, that was an interesting conversation y'all were having” you smile at him, again, that slight red tint popped back up on his face. “you heard that ?” his eyes on the sink, “yeah, I promise I am nice but I had no idea they were going to try and set us up” you laughed, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Eddie let out a laugh too, “yeah, that was uh- a little- it definitely caught me off guard” he turned to you.

The time was now 10:30, “I think it’s time we get home” Eddie said, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. “Yeah, it’s pretty late” you watch as Eddie walks to the living room to get Christoper. A few moments later, Chris comes into the kitchen, you walk over and kneel down so the two of you are face to face.

“Thank you for letting me hang out and have dinner here” he says sweetly, you give him a smile. “You’re welcome my love, you’re welcome to come over anytime you’d like” Christopher gives you a hug which you return. You walk in back to the living room where you find a scene similar to the one you just had wth Christopher. Emily sat beside Eddie on the couch, her little arms wrapped around his neck, “think about it ?” she asked him, sticking her pinky out to him. He laughed and nodded, “I will” he linked his pinky with hers. “Ready to go home bud ?” Eddie asked his son who nodded, Christopher said goodbye to Emily before they made their way over to the door. Emily had already ran off to go get ready for bed leaving you at the door as Eddie helped Chris in the truck. You stepped out onto the porch, Eddie was halfway between the truck and your front door.

“Thank you for having us over today”

“Thank you for coming, it was nice to have a full house”

Eddie turned on his heels and headed to the truck, he stopped and turned back towards you. “I really enjoyed this, maybe we could have a playdate of our own sometime?” your brows furrowed at his comment.

Was he suggesting that you get together and play with toys or play with something else..

Eddie senses your confusion, “oh god, I didn't mean, sorry uh-” he let out an awkward chuckle, “I meant maybe we could go out sometime ? together but without the kids ?” he made his way over to you.

“Are you asking me on a date or a playdate ?” you tease him, you bit your lip, holding back a smile. Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, “a date y/n, I'd like to go on a date with you”

“I’d like that Eddie”

Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek, “goodnight y/n”

“Goodnight Eddie”

taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

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Distanced, part 1

Summary: A group chat fic! How shall these useless students cope with daily life.

Note: This is my first attempt at anything even remotely like this! I have no idea how this will turn out so feedback is greatly appreciated! Intrulogical.

Next part here!!

MESSAGES: To Remus Prince (Presentation)

Tuesday, 16:15

Hello. This is Logan Sanders from Prof. Smith’s seminar. Do you have any suggestions for how we should go about completing the upcoming assessment?

Remus Prince: who dis

I literally just stated it. Logan Sanders.

I wear the tie.

Remus Prince: OHHH

Remus Prince: Well 1stly

Remus Prince: What’s the best planet in the solar system?

Pardon?

Remus Prince: i LitERaLlY JuSt stAtED iT

That has nothing to do with anything, we just need to get through this project.

Remus Prince: if u want to work then u have to answer

Jupiter.

Remus Prince: cool.

Remus Prince: You’ll do.

Remus Prince: My name is Remus.

I know. We did actually swap phone numbers. We in fact discussed which topic we would be doing for over fifteen minutes in the seminar. So we have indeed met. If you continue to be obnoxious then this will be a easier project.

MESSAGES: To Remus Sanders (Presentation)

Tuesday, 16:22

Why did you ask that question?

Remus Prince: I asked my brother that question and he answered earth

Remus Prince: I’ve had trust issues ever since

Roman’s favourite planet is Earth?

Remus Prince: HAH

Remus Prince: ye he’s an idiot

Remus Prince: I’ve gotta test everyone now.

Remus Prince: You passed btw

Remus Prince: WAIT!

Remus Prince: Do u know Ro?

Yes, he is my friend and roommate.

Remus Prince: What was ur name again????????

You can literally scroll up and reread it. I refuse. You got into university for a reason and so you can manage my name.

Remus Prince: jk

Okay then. Do you want to discuss how we should go about creating this powerpoint?

Remus Prince: what’s there to ‘discuss’?

We can separately conduct our research however it is regrettably better to meet up in person to practise not only giving the presentation but also the construction of the presentation itself.

Remus Prince: man you just love sending essays huh

I have written out longer messages. I don’t understand the point of sending a sentence at a time and risk getting interrupted. Plus at least my texting doesn’t seem all like an assault of constant notifications.

Remus Prince: fair

Shall we say that we should aim to get our presentation research finished by two weeks (15th). That leaves us another two weeks to construct the powerpoint, gather more research if necessary, then practise presenting.

Remus Prince: k

GROUPCHAT: Goths, Emos, and Remus

Tuesday, 16:26

Octopussy: can I vent for a sec

Octopussy: So! I’m just sitting here. Y’know. Vibing.

Octopussy: Then out of nowhere the nerd from my class starts messaging me about the group project that’s due a month away

Octopussy: like wtf

Octopussy: nice to know the nerd thing isn’t just appearance

Vigilant: help

Octopussy: he made a big deal about meeting up as well to do this!

Octopussy: No one in the class even cares!

Octopussy: No one is even remotely

Octopussy: Not even close

Octopussy: To thinking about that project right now!

Octopussy: We’ve got ages!

Vigilant: oh sweet jesus

Octopussy: Like! We’ve got a month!

Octopussy: AN ENTIRE MONTH

Octopussy: Like he also wants to meet up as well to practise

Octopus: Like ew.

Top-Hat-Gay: Are you done?

Octopussy: ye

Octopussy: he’s a dick

Vigilant: oh thank god

Top-Hat-Gay: Ha, as if you believe in god.

Vigilant: If it stops Re from not spamming us then I’ll believe whatever.

Octopussy: rude

Vigilant: bitch

Top-Hat-Gay: On an actually important note, which one of you last used my nail bag?

Octopussy: me!

Octopussy: you need more green

Top-Hat-Gay: No I fucking don’t!

Top-Hat-Gay: There was an entirely new bottle in there!

Octopussy: I said what I said.

Top-Hat-Gay: I hate you.

Octopussy: Thank bby

Octopussy: ALSO!

Octopussy: I found out the nerd also lives with Ro.

Top-Hat-Gay: So?

Vigilant: hE’S FORBIDDEN

Top-Hat-Gay: Wait so the nerd is Logan?

Octopussy: He is!

Octopussy: not that it seems to be having any effect on Ro. he’s as dense as a brick.

Top-Hat-Gay: I saw him today going into Remy’s.

Vigilant: Why are we even talking about him

Vigilant: Like who gives a shit.

Octopussy: dunno

Octopussy: just thought it was weird

Top-Hat-Gay: Maybe you should switch partners. Especially if he wants to meet up at some point.

Octopussy: nah

Octopussy: not worth it

Top-Hat-Gay: A teacher wouldn’t care. They only want to see good grades. They won’t mind moving stuff around for you.

Octopussy: He seems harmless.

Vigilant: you literally called him a dick after one conversation.

Octopussy: he is a dick

Octopussy: he seems stuffy but just a nerd through and through. He’s not going to be a prick or anything.

Vigilant: This isn’t really about him. He already got you talking about you know who in your first ever conversation. Maybe you shouldn’t hang around him.

Octopussy: I just thought it was interesting

Octopussy: It doesn’t mean jack shit

Octopussy: Not everything I talk about has some grand meaning.

Octopussy: I just thought it was weird that this nerd I share my classes with also lives with my bro.

Top-Hat-Gay: And that’s perfectly fine Re.

Octopussy: soz V

Octopussy: didn’t mean to blow up in your face

Octopussy: just annoying to feel psycho-analysed

Vigilant: soz

Octopussy: okay!

Octopussy: that’s proof enough!

Octopussy: we can behave to each other so ice cream plz!!!!!!!!!!!

Top-Hat-Gay: JESUS CHRIST I SAID THAT AS A JOKE LAST YEAR

Octopussy: I will eat V’s posters unless you give us reward good boy icecream

Vigilant: chocolate pls

Top-Hat-Gay: jesus do you lot know how long it takes for me to put on my cape to go shopping

Vigilant: yes

Vigilant: we are precisely aware of exactly how long it takes

Vigilant: that’s why we don’t go shopping with you

GROUPCHAT: THE FAM ILY

Tuesday, 16:38

Pat-on-the-back: Heya guys, are we all in for dinner tonight?

Logan.S: I am.

YourHopesandDreams: I will be in at 7. If you could be so compassionate to push your meal back until then, I would be truly indebted to you.

Pat-on-the-back: Fine by me!

Logan.S: I am agreeable.

Pat-on-the-back: Also Lo! Are you finished with your work?

Logan.S: I have finished my to-do list so I am available if I’m needed.

Pat-on-the-back: No, you’re all good! I just wanted to check. It sounded like you were doing work for like four hours straight.

Logan.S: It took three hours thank you very much.

Logan.S: So what are we doing for dinner?

Pat-on-the-back: I was thinking lasagne!

Pat-on-the-back: also! Don’t think I’ll notice that change in topic!

Pat-on-the-back: I thought we all agreed on two hour stretches of work with a 15 min break at least. I mean... it’s even written on our calendar! There’s no way you forgot, did you Mister!

Logan.S: It’s fine Pat.

Logan.S: Just let it go

Logan.S: I needed to get it done

Logan.S: I don’t need to be babied.

Logan.S: I’m taking a break now. I’m okay.

Pat-on-the-back: I know, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure. As long as you feel okay then everything’s alright! How was your work anyway?

Logan.S: Fairly ordinary actually. I had to go through some of my notes and rewrite a couple of pages then I had to organise a group project due the 2nd of March.

Pat-on-the-back: Sounds productive!

Logan.S: Thank you.

YourHopesandDreams: Ew. Group project. Who’s your partner?

Logan.S: We are in entirely different courses, why do you think you would know them?

YourHopesandDreams: Everyone knows the drama students know everyone.

Logan.S: I’m working with Remus.

YourHopesandDreams: You should ask to swap partners.

Logan.S: I won’t do so unless I have a genuine reason. I’ve not had any interactions with him previously and while he did seem half-hearted and obnoxious in his messages, he seems harmless. If he messes everything around then I will but I won’t make a fuss unless I have reason to.

Pat-on-the-back: That’s fair but please make sure to tell us if he pulls anything.

YourHopesandDreams: Your loss.

MESSAGES: To Nerd

Wednesday, 3:02

hey u awake

Nerd: What on earth are you doing up at 3am?

Soz

Wrong number.

MESSAGES: To Nerd

Wednesday, 3:12

Nerd: What is your favourite planet?

wha

Nerd: I figured it would be fair to ask your test to you. For all I know you could be as uncultured as your brother.

can we not talk about him

I dunno really

I wanna say pluto because they deserve it

but I kinda like saturn best.

Nerd: Any reason why?

Just kinda interesting

Big, lots a moons, ring.

It’s just a cool planet.

Nerd: Fair enough.

Do you have a reason to like jupiter?

Nerd: If I’m being honest, my science teacher absolutely adored Jupiter. I don’t know why but that memory of him ranting about how cool it was just really stuck with me. I was only about 8 years old. But I found myself agreeing with him. Back then my fascination was a lot more childish. I thought it was fascinating that since Jupiter was a gas planet it hadn’t been blown away yet. I grew up from that view but the interest never left.

ew that was almost cute.

Nerd: I concur that was very unprofessional.

WAIT

HOLD ON

Why hasn’t Jupiter blown away!?!?!?!?!??

Nerd: Excuse me?

8YR OLD YOU IS A GENUIS

Nerd: There’s no atmosphere in space!

But there’s pressure and junk isn’t there?

Nerd: The pressure is pulling the mass into the centre which keeps the planet whole.

Do you think we could step on Jupiter?

Nerd: I don’t know.

I thought you knew space!

Nerd: I do biology! To get into a biology degree, I did a bunch of biology based subjects! Why would I know anything about space?

I dunno.

I guess if you look like a nerd people just presume.

Nerd: I’ve personally found it’s the confidence. If you act confident enough then everyone presumes you know exactly what you’re doing and you’re in control, no matter how out of place you look.

I’ll drink to that!

Wait, in what situation would you have learnt this!?!

Nerd: I have a bad habit of accidentally going to the wrong class and just going along with it rather than anything else. Although I should say I did fantastic in that architectural history class. But this habit has caused some awkward situations. I have also impersonated a store manager to explain why me and my friend were there when really he ran into the warehouse searching for a kitten.

HAH

That’s brilliant

Using your nerdy powers to overthrow society.

Does this mean you’re a liar?

Nerd: I call it ‘managing life’.

HAH

Sounds about right.

Why are you awake at this time?

Nerd: I could ask you that.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #My writing #roman sanders #patton sanders #Janus Sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #group chat fic #fluff

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apenapaperandadoofus · 3 years

Note

I won't say I'm in love + Suit Saeran and in Suit Saeran's POV!??? I MEANNNNN??? And like the other believers singing the part of the muses??? YES? 😌 I love this prompt and this sounds sooo fun 😆

YES YES YES I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AND THE BELIEVERS?! YESSSSSSSSSSS

Also a Jumin version is also incoming since two people asked for it hehe, but I just COULD NOT HELP BUT WRITE THIS ONE FIRST NANSSBBS ITS SO CUTEEE

Also I had a lot lf fun until the last part where I was editing and tumblr actually went fuck you and deleted everything so thanks for that

(also if someone idk wants to draw this or whatever hehe please tell me bc I will actually sell my soul to you.) I will try and uh draw a bit but as yall now, middle hands I don't rest know how to so PFT

Prompt from: give me a mm character and a song

I won't say I'm in love (Saeran x Fem!MC)

Song: I won't say I'm in love (Caleb Hyles)

"And don't you forget that you stupid toy." Saeran said, as he closed the door with a bang. "You all know the rules. Don't you dare touch my toy, and don't let anyone else come in here am I clear?" He told the believers, who stiffened and stuttered, "Yes Mr. Ra- Sorry, sorry! Mr. Saeran...."

Saeran scoffed at the believers but decided to go easy on them this time. After all, today he was in a pretty good mood thanks to his toy.

Or well, at least that what he thought before stopping in the middle of his tracks. Today he wasn't really able to see that scared, helpless look on her face. It was the exact opposite, today she was resilient, and actually fought back, and although he had to admit he liked the fiesty act at first, now it was getting really annoying. I mean, at this point she should be begging on her knees, asking him to please have mercy, that she love-

Wait.

Love??

Saeran's eyes widened as he realized what he has just imagined. He didn't want to hear her telling him how much she loved him. That she needed him, yes, the she was going to do whatever he wanted too, but that she loved him??

He didn't want anyone to love him. Angrily, screaming at himself (or well, at Ray, he had come to the conclusion that it was all that marshmallow's fault) he walked over to the garden. Nothing made him feel better than picking up flowers he knew Ray loved, and then destroying them immediately. It was a hobby of his to be honest.

As he walked through the beautiful garden, he had a mental conversation with himself, mostly about what he thought about....her.

Love....why would he want her to love him? It just didn't make any sense. Just why?

Because you love her.

A voice said, and Saeran immediately turned around, trying to find the idiot who said such a blatant lie.

Love her?

In typical Saeran fashion, he scoffed and then tried to come up with a whole list of why his toy wasn't even worthy of his affection. Yet....when he tried to do it....his mind couldn't come up with anything.

Oh.

Oooh.

Oh fuck no.

Saeran ran a hand through his hair and sat on the nearby fountain. He noticed that it was right in front of her room, which still seemed to have the lights on.

Seriously what's that idiot doing awake still....and hey, why do I care?! Seriously, that airhead Ray might've fallen for her, but I'm definetly not going to follow the same path as that dumbass.

He sighed.

"Seriously....If there's a prize for rotten judgement....I guess I've already won that.

No girl is worth the aggravation

That's ancient history, been there, done that." He groaned as he buried his face in his hands and-

"Who d'you think you're kidding

She's the earth and heaven to you."

"HUH?!" Saeran quickly looked up, only to find....the gardener tending to the plants. Hm, the lack of sleep must be making him hear, and especially think, crazy things. He sighed and went back to placing his head on his hands but then-

"Try to keep it hidden,

Honey we can see right through you

Boy you can't conceal it

We know how you're feeling

Who you thiiiinking of!"

Saeran immediately stood up and looked around the garden once again. "Oi whoever is in here, you have three seconds to run before I go and rip your head off."

Silence.

Fucking finally. He thought, as he took a deep breath in and tried to go back into his mediative state.

He turned around to sit back on the corner of the fountain, when a believer appeared out of nowhere.

"The hell are you-" Saeran started, but the believed walked over to him with one finger in the air.

"Aghhhhhh" he said as he stopped in front of him. "Saeran....my boy....you're in love."

"WHAT!? NO WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, AND WHY ARE YOU EVEN- WHO DO YOU- I-' he stuttered, when anither believer came out of the bushes and placed a hand on Saeran's shoulder.

"Aw baby boy, why don't you just go and admit it?"

Another believer appeared from the other side and sighed dreamily. "It's a beautiful thing, so you shouldn't be afraid." The believer said, with a very high pitched voice.

"WHY ARE YOU-HUH!?"

"Love is a beautiful thing Saeran." Saeran heard a deep voice say in front of him, and he almost punched the believer in the face as he came out of the fountain, yes, wet robes and all.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Saeram screamed, but the believers (?) Only laughed and then proceeded to get together and strike a really weird group pose.

"We are...YOUR OWN PERSONAL MUSES! AND WE WON'T LEAVE, UNTIL YOU FINALLY REALIZE THE TRUTH!" They all said.

Saeran, who was now pretty annoyed because of the self proclaimed 'muses' and also because he forgot to bring his gun so now he had nothing to threaten them with and let out his anger and insecurities, glared at the group of people and crossed his arms.

"And what is this so called truth?" He asked. The muses smiled even more

"THAT YOU ARE IN.....LOVE!!!!"

Saeran swore he could see confetti suddenly fall from the sky and he let out a sarcastic chuckle.

"Yeah right. With who? MC? Please. I'd never be in love with her."

"But you are!" One of the muses said.

"Just admit Saeran!" Another one chipped in.

He was taken aback for a minute before he went back to giving them muses a deal glare. "I'm not admiting anything. This is stupid seriously, just go away."

"No! We won't! Until you say that you're in LOVE!* The deep voiced muse said and Saedan raised an eyebrow.

"What me?! Seriously?! In love? Please. I'm leaving if you're not, I'm not dealing with this bullshit."

Saedan quickly walked over to another side of the garden, when suddenly the muses appeared in front of him. He turned around, only to find the muses once again.

Everywhere he went, he saw them, and everytime his patience kept running thinner and thinner.

"JUST SAY YOU'RE IN LOVE SAERAN!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, stomping his foot.

"NO! No chance no way I won't say it, no...no!" He shook his head side to side and glared.

The muses groaned. "You swoon, you sigh, why deny it? Oh oh."

Saeran blushed. "B-because, it's too cliche! I won't say I'm in love!" He angrily walked over to a bush and glared at the flowers as if that would suddenly help him get rid of his problems. (It was a bush of forget me not's, one of Ray's favorite, ironically it seemed that's where his body took him, probably out of instinct.)

Angrily, he took one out and glared at it.

"Ugh...I thought my heart had learned its lesson...It feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming 'Get a grip boy..." He angrily threw the flower on the ground and stepped on it and let out an exasperated sigh. "Unless you're dying to cry your heart out...." He mumbled and then cursed as he saw the muses again.

"UGH BOY YOU CAN'T DENY IT!! Who you are is how you're feeling!"

"I don't even know what that means-! I-WHY ARE YOU SINGING- I DON'T LIKE HER!""

"Baby we're not buying!"

One of them (it also has to be the one that came out of the fountain due to the wet sleeves) poked Saeran's cheek and smirked.

"Hon we saw you hit the ceiling"

Saeran felt himself blush even more, a gasp escaping from his lips.

"Face it like a grown-up, when you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad!"

Saeran groaned as he saw the believersline up in a single file and then proceed to do that dance move where each jumps out one after the other.

"God!! No chance no way I won't say it, no no!!!" Saeran stomped his foot once again and shook his head, like a toddler, and the muses rolled their eyes.

"She's just...she's so annoying. I hate her, I hate her face, her hair, her smile, the way her eyes light up when she talks, or how happy she looked when I showed her the garden..."

One if the muses laughed, bringing Saeran out of his trance.

"Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love!" They teased him, which made Saeran gape at them as if he was very offended.

"This scene won't play I won't say I'm in lo-UGH!!

"We'll do it until you admit you're in love!"

"Leave me alone!" Saeran stomped off towards the other side of the garden and the muses followed.

"You're way off base I won't say it...." The muses glared at him with a skeptical glance and he glared.

"Get off my case I won't say it" he growled and say on a bench near by, crossing his arms with his face all red.

"Boy don't be proud it's okay you're in love."-

"Mister Saeran...Mister Saeran!"

Suddenly Saeran looked up to see the believer who was gardening before. "You fell asleep on the fountain...shall I get you anything?"

Saeran scoffed and pushed the believer's hand from his shoulder.

"Don't you dare to ever touch me again. Go away, I was just- just- ugh! Leave before I tell the others to prepare another cleansing ceremony."

The believer quickly nodded. "Yes sir, of course! I apologize!!!" He quickly left and Saeran watched as he ran away, and then he sighed.

Suddenly he found himself staring at....her room, and for some reason, he felt a very deep part of him glad that she was finally getting some sleep. Then, his eyes widened and he let out a sardonic laugh.

"Fuck....."

He looked back to the flowers and sighed a small, sad smile on his face. "Well....at least out loud....I won't say I'm in..... love."

The End

BONUS:

Believers: *Looking out from the window at the garden and Saeran.*

Believer N°643: Hey he's been sitting there for a while...

Believer N°262: yeah almost about 2 minutes and 32 seconds....

Believers:.....

Believer N°643: d'you recon we should wake him up?

Believer N°262: and immediately get massacred? Nah man, I have a wife, a kid! You wake him up.

Believer N°643: what no dude I don't want to die, I have dreams!

Believer N°262: *whispering but also yelling* YOU'RE IN A CULT YOU'RE NOT SUPPODED TO HAVE DREAMS WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!?

Believer N°643: THEY'RE IMPORTANT

Believer N°262: WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT THAN THIS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT!?

Believer N°643:....... *Looks at the camera*

Believer N°262:.....

Believer N°643: Iwsnsssnsnsns

Believer N°262: what?

Believer N° 643: I...I want to start a band! It's...it's a work in progress but Carol and Jimmy have already agreed. It's going to be...it'll be cult based... probably.

Believer N°262: you....YOU STARTED A BAND AND DIDNT TELL ME!?

Believer N°643: IM SORRY

Believer N°262: I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU KEEPING FFOM ME!?

Believer N°643: THE CHILD ISNT YOURS IM SORRY

Believer N°262: THAT- YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY ANSWE- wait... Bartholomew the Second isn't mine...?

Believer N°643: *slowly shakes his head* ...no

Believer N°262:....dude.

Believer N°643: IT WAS A SATURDAY NIGHT AND YOU KNOW WHAT THE SAVIOUR DOES ON SATURDAY'S, WE HAD WAY YOO MUCH ELIXIR. ALSO IM YOUR FATHER.

Believer N°262: what THE FU-

Announcer: Join us next week in The Cult, it's like The Office but it's actually a cult, made my someone who has been writing for about an hour non-stop and it's actually 1AM in her time zone so she's clearly already loosing her mind, GOOD NIGHT FOLKS

*audience applause*

*The Office theme but cult version starts playing as the credits roll, THE END*

(I'm sorry I don't know what the fuck this is but my fingers just started typing it on their own I'm sorry pffff

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #suit saeran #mysme #saeyoung choi #choi bois

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takiki16 · 3 years

Note

Considering your last Russell Crowe obsession consider: Joe/Nicky 3:10 to Yuma AU and Master and Commander AU. :D

Fork. Forkforkfork my PAST is coming back to haunt me i deny anything and everything whoooooo is that white man i don’t know him!!!!!

Kaysanova AU Propositions: 3:10 to Yuma and Master and Commander

(more under the cut)

Okay, I’m assuming that these AUs are more than just “Immortal Husbands in the Age of Sail and the mid-1800s in North America?” Because if this is just about seeing Joe and Nicky on the deck of a tall ship or in cowboy gear, those are both pretty much canon scenarios. @polarcell has done some AMAZING cowboy!Joe art that speaks pretty much exactly to this point!

But if this is about FUSION AUs - that is, Joe and Nicky actually taking on the roles of Jack/Stephen from M&C and Wade/Dan from 3:10 to Yuma, then that is a discussion to be had. And not to get all Heavy (TM) about this, but 3:10 to Yuma and Master & Commander are both stories heavily based in the colonial/imperialist narratives of the American and British empires - specifically “the Wild West” and “Britannia Rules the Waves,” etc. etc. TOG has been an educational fandom for me in terms of a LOT of things, and while I DO want to have fun with fusion AU scenarios that feature movies I like, I want to be...careful with my words and ideas and keep the scope narrow, you know?

SO: IN THE ORDER OF RECEPTION:

Kaysanova: 3:10 to Yuma edition:

I mean, i feel like the OBVIOUS FRAMEWORK here is that Nicky = Ben Wade. notorious stagecoach robber, fastest gun in the West, wielder of the pistol called the Hand o’ God, always ready with an ominous theological quote and all-round projector of dangerous eldritch charisma vibes. And JOE is obviously the good-hearted rancher who is down on his luck due to no fault of his own and is working himself to the bone trying to do his best but always being Kept Down By The Man. And lo and behold! Joe walks into the saloon one day and finds Nicky!

Nicky is fascinated by this beautiful and furious man, and lingers juuuust long enough for the local sheriff to clap him in handcuffs. Joe volunteers to help transport Nicky the few days’ ride to the next train station to cash in on the reward and put Nicky on the 3:10 train to Yuma Prison. Seductive Shenanigans ensue on the way!

And like...the concept of this. The scenes we could get! Because the bare bones of Yuma!AU have a lot in common with the 1099 meet-cute: two enemies, chilling around a fire, five feet apart because they won’t admit they’re gay for each other. But in Yuma!AU, there’s all these extra characters around helping to guard Mister Notorious Outlaw Nicky, which means a whole lot of talking around the point! The thing I liked about the outlaw character was that his divide-and-conquer strategy for the posse bringing him in was INCREDIBLY clear and blatant, but his charisma score was so high it didn’t matter! Everyone fell for it anyway! EVERYONE EXCEPT DAN THE RANCHER, which fascinated Wade, which made it a movie-long pigtail-pulling game until the tragic ending.

The tropes here are endless. “Is he making eyes at me because he actually finds me attractive, or because he wants me to let him escape? Woe is me, I am a wicked outlaw and do not deserve such a paragon of goodness! Oh no, my sexy captor has been shot, and it would be CLEARLY in my best interests for him to let him die but I just! Can’t! OH NO, my sexy captive has been shot, and now I have to take care of him but ONLY for the reward money and for NO other reason! Yes, we are having a conversation that outwardly includes everyone around the campfire, but REALLY is about our mutual loathing and even more mutual attraction!”

Mandatory: Joe does NOT die in the end. Nicky does NOT swing for his crimes. Maybe he does end up putting Nicky on the 3:10 to Yuma, and maybe Nicky grabs him by Ye Olde West Bandanna and kisses him as the train pulls away, WWII photograph style. BUT THEY END UP TOGETHER IN THE END, and Joe’s ranch thrives, and Nicky goes back to outlawing because fuq Wells Fargo and all U.S. banks and monopolies, YEE HAW.

Kaysanova: Master & Commander / Aubreyad edition:

Oh this one is tricky. I can’t help but come at this not only from a movie perspective, but from my hyperfixation with the 21-novel saga perspective????

Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin are appealing as characters because they are so vividly and specifically drawn. Jack is a jock-type himbo with an open heart of gold but some deeply unfortunate blind spots that lead to him frequently putting his foot in his mouth - or worse. Stephen is a deeply secretive and obsessive doctor/naturalist/spy who tends to dislike most people and who also is in denial about his substance abuse problems. If you are trying to substitute Joe and Nicky in for either of them, then traits on both sides are going to be erased. Which is always the case for any AU, but like I said - Jack and Stephen have such rich character design that I hate to chip away any of it?

But one of the core appealing parts of Jack and Stephen’s relationship is the compare/contrast between them, and the ways they are deeply connected to each other not merely in spite of their differences, but because of their differences. Substituting Joe and Nicky in, then, becomes less about transforming the Immortal Husbands to fit the HMS Surprise (or vice versa) and more about the ways that Ship’s Captain and Ship’s feral doctor/naturalist/spy can showcase their respective personalities in opposition and attraction to each other. This leans us more towards a generic Age of Sail AU, but SUCH IS THE PRICE OF WELL-MADE CANON - IT’S HARDER TO LEAVE BEHIND! you have no idea how hard it was not to make this whole post an Aubrey/Maturin love letter there are SO MANY SHENANIGANS TO HAVE FUN WITH

HAVING SAID THAT: Kaysanova, M&C edition!

Since neither Joe nor Nicky are an exact fit for Jack or Stephen, we can try it both ways! Captain!Joe, doctor!Nicky, and captain!Nicky, doctor!Joe!

Captain Joe, Doctor Nicky:

Okay I’ll admit - this one came easy, because if we’re going by sun/moon contrast imagery then Captain “Lucky Jack” Aubrey and his blindingly high charisma score is definitely a first pick for Joe, while Stephen “I write my own private diary with triple encryption and would definitely hiss at people if I could” Maturin is definitely a first pick for Nicky. Captain Joe steps onto the quarterdeck of his new command, exhibits some Proper Seamanship and Good Leadership Principles, and in short order most of the crew are willing to follow him anywhere. He is effusive and generous and open, especially to lonely surgeon and naturalist Nicky who is camping out on a hillside with nowhere to go, and the rest is history.

Oh I love this, I love this, because given a reading of Joe as the effusive brilliant one and Nicky as the feral murder cat, this AU does almost write itself. Captain Joe insisting that Ship’s Surgeon Nicky put in some effort and dress for the admiralty inspection, while Nicky is standing there in a bloody surgery apron and mismatching shoes arguing that my attire is perfectly reasonable, my dear, I cannot understand this outrageous insistence on starch. Nicky quietly finding the man who tried to frame Joe for a crime and literally killing and dissecting him in a back alley chop shop! (YES, that is canon). Joe becoming a surrogate dad/mentor to literally every younger officer/ship’s boy/random child that falls under his care who shows the slightest need for care and affection! Nicky pulling off a surgical miracle one minute and filling the ship with random animals and beehives the next! YESSSSSSSS.

Captain Nicky, Doctor Joe:

Now THIS ONE requires the most creative canon juggling, but I have been excited to talk about it because if you follow the spy!Joe headcanon backstory this becomes 100000% more interesting.

Captain!Nicky is one of those reserved, calm types of captains that doesn’t believe in being “one of the lads” and doesn’t believe in excessive efforts to be popular in a crude sense, but IS a universally respected and competent ship’s captain. His success on the waves leads him to a special assignment transporting Doctor!Joe, who has some rudimentary medical training and can do emergency battle medicine, but is REALLY here to study the languages and cultures of the world, Captain! *innocent eyes* The two of them quickly strike up a friendship.

However, LITTLE DOES CAPTAIN!NICKY KNOW, but Joe is on a secret intelligence mission of the utmost importance, and his universal likeability and friendliness both redirect unwelcome attention from his true purpose and also are A+++ assets in getting the right people to trust him. Feelings and Tensions Rise as the ship is sent all over the world - Joe making contacts in every port, Nicky commanding them through storms and battles, and both of them falling more and more in love with each other on the way. Any number of canon scenarios could happen from this point! Is Joe captured, and Nicky has to mount a daring rescue? Is Nicky unwittingly caught up in intelligence shenanigans, and Joe has to delicately extract him? Do they have a fight about all the secrets that nearly breaks them apart but for their True Love?

I would LOVE to read this fic because spy!Joe has always, ALWAYS fascinated me. I don’t think any of the popular characterizations of Joe put secrecy or subterfuge as one of his main traits, although doing intelligence work doesn’t necessarily mean that Joe is a secretive person (just that he’s good at finding the right knowledge and getting it to the right places without raising alarms). However, it does present this amazing dichotomy between the friendly, openly verbal and affectionate person that Joe IS in canon and the careful, think-twice behavior needed to keep a secret on an enclosed community like a tall ship. Especially if Joe is in the middle of falling in love with the ship’s captain while trying to carry out a mission of his own separate to the official public orders of the ship’s company!

And Captain!Nicky also presents an interesting interpretation issue, because one of my very favorite Jack Aubrey traits is what a natural leader he is. And again, it’s not that Nicky can’t be a leader, but I don’t think any of Nicky’s popular character interpretations have him eager to take charge either. It would be SUPER interesting to see what kind of a ship’s captain Nicky - with his mildly unfashionable clothes and Eldritch Vibes (TM) and outward reserve and deep, deep capacity for rage and kindness in equal measures would be. Tall Ship Sailing with a crew requires huge amounts of mutual trust, coordination, and cooperation. How might a person like Nicky gain the necessary loyalty to coordinate his crew through the Perilous High Seas without resorting to cruelty and force?

CANON Aubreyad shenanigans that MUST happen in both AUs no matter what!!!! (if you take NOTHING else away from this post, this list MUST be it, and yes, all of them are canon in the books!!!):

Our two heroes must enact a daring escape over land involving one of them wearing a fursuit for several days. The fursuit is mandatory

Whoever is the Doctor must kill someone in the middle of a joint jewelry/intelligence heist by beating them to death with a stone dildo. Mandatory: they kill only one person this way, but that is not the only person they kill in that 24-hour period

Our two heroes escape from prison by chiseling open the toilet hole, but they never actually go through the toilet hole because someone in the party manages a seduction in the nick of time

The doctor brings 60,000 live bees onto the ship and stores them without a second thought in the captain’s quarters

The captain debauches a sloth. It is subsequently adopted by the Franciscans in Rio and happily drinks altar wine for the rest of its days.

Way too many laxatives. This is how the port authorities are avoided.

Constant, constant roasting of each other and also horrible puns, sweetly counterbalancing True Affection and Ride-or-Die bonds of love.

#Anonymous #aubrey maturin #the old guard #3:10 to yuma #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #aubreyad #my posts #kaysanova #immortal husbands #I HOPE THIS SATISFIES YOU ANON - THIS RABBIT HOLE WAS DEEPER THAN I EXPECTED

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captzexx · 3 years

Note

What if people around you started to disappear seemingly out of thin air? Someone goes to start the kettle, evidence is there of the task being partially completed, their personal belongings still on the table etc, where there once was mid conversation suddenly one sided and silent?

"Thank you for calling Midwich Technology, my name is Emma. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Emma. I'm having some issues with the game."

"What seems to be the issue? And can I get your account number and date of birth?"

"AD-11374, February 9th, 2253"

"Thank you."

"So my lo-"

"One moment please."

"Sorry."

"It's alright, just takes a moment for me to get your account information."

"I understand."

"There we are, Mister Foreman. What seems to be your issue?"

"It's Froman."

"My apologies, sir. I'll update that real quick here and ensure that doesn't occur again. So once again, what seems to the issue, Mister Froman?"

"Well, I logged in this morning and everything was running fine but I paused for a second and well, now everything is just gone."

"Gone?"

"I'm alone."

"I understand, let me look at your account credentials and I'll see what I can find out. May I put you one a brief hold?"

"Uh, yeah that'd be fine. But pl-"

"At Midwich Technology we pride ourselves on our concentration on the family and the social dynamics that our founders built this country on. We're a family and glad for you to be a part of it. Thank you for being a loyal customer, and please stay on the line. We'll be with you shortly."

"This hold music is just the worst."

"Hello? Emma? Hello? Come on, it's been like 10 minutes!"

"Hello? Hello! Anyone? I'd like to speak to a supervisor please, you can't keep me on hold like this!"

"God damn it, where are you Emma? I fuckin swear to god! It's been almost an hour! Come back!"

"Emma! Where the fuck are you? What is going on? I need to log back in! I need to see my kids! Emma!"

"Sorry for the long hold time, Mister Foreman."

"It's Froman! And sorry? Sorry!? It's been like an hour, Emma! What the fuck? You can't just leave me here like that!"

"I apologize, sir but I had to go back through your account thoroughly before I could give you a proper answer."

"A proper answer? What the fuck do you mean? Why can't I login? What's going on?"

"I'm afraid there is an error with your hardware."

"I'm sorry? What?"

"You're out of date sir, and do to a recent update I'm afraid your hardware is no longer valid."

"What?"

"Your hardware sir is no long-"

"I fucking heard you, what the fuck does that mean?"

"It means sir, that you are no longer able to run the programming with your current equipment. I'm sorry."

"No longer run? What? How do we fix that?"

"We can't."

"You can't? You can't or you won't? I pay my fuckin bill and I paid for the god damn upgrade. What do you fucking me you can't?"

"I'm afraid sir, you no longer compatible for any further updates to the system. You are more than welcome to continue in the base game and past updates, but unfortunately you will not be able to progress any further."

"What? How can, I don't understand. You can't just leave me like this. My family is -"

"Your family will continue to update and progress as they are still compatible with their present hardware."

"But what about me?"

"I'm afraid this is the end."

"No."

"I'm very sorry, Mister Foreman."

"Please, I need them. I can't be alone."

"Once again, I'm very sorry sir. As I said before, you are more than welcome to continue to enjoy your prior progress but regrettably you are no longer eligible to continue pas this point."

"Please."

"I'm sorry again, Mister Foreman. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"You can upgrade my fucking shit and let me see my family you fucking bitch!"

"Mister Foreman, I understand you are upset but please understand such tone and langu-"

"FUCK YOU!"

"Mister FOREman."

"It's Froman you cunt! I swear to god I will come down there and burn that mother fucking building to the ground! You can't keep me from my family! LET ME BA-"

"This call is over. Thank you again, Mister FROman. Your account will be billed appropriately to the length of this call. Enjoy your day and thank you again for calling Midwich Technology. Goodbye."

END CALL

Account: AD-11374 [Jacob Foreman] Account Status: Blacklisted; Reported to Authority for processing Hardware Status: Obsolete

@lady-rian

Concept related with @conduitdreams

#ask answered #all gone #obsolete #midwich technology #cyberpunk

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glorious-blackout · 3 years

Text

Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Two

@rock-n-roll-fantasy Aaaaaand here’s Part Two 🥰

Part One, Part Three

Click.

The world shimmers and fades instantaneously before reforming like an intricate puzzle before his eyes. The effect is mildly dizzying but Mark doesn’t mind, taking in his new environment with a nostalgic smile creeping across his face. With the mere press of a button, he has transformed the illusion of a lively seaside resort into one of a teeming London street. An elegant 1960s Aston Martin glides past him and passersby hustle and bustle on overflowing pavements, too caught up in the intricacies of their own lives to pay him any heed. That’s okay though. Being invisible is a rare luxury these days.

The skies above are a murky grey, but the heavens have yet to open. Mark’s eyes scan the numerous shop exteriors boasting dolled-up mannequins and ‘unmissable’ offers, before finally settling on a grotty club exterior at the far end of the street. Memories of queuing outside its doors to watch the likes of The Jam or The Sex Pistols flow through his mind like a film reel, to the point where he can almost feel his cheap leather jacket growing sticky with sweat amidst the heat of the crowd. He remembers being highly impressed by The Jam and deciding that getting utterly shitfaced was the best way to endure The Sex Pistols, but every gig he attended in those days had carried with it an undeniable thrill. His heart aches with longing as he relives the frantic push of bodies and the roar of the crowd once the lights went down; the deep groove of the bass reverberating through his chest; the way his shoes stuck to a floor which had acquired several layers of spilt beer over the course of the night. More than all of that, his heart sings with nostalgia for the drunken – and occasionally drugged – haze that washed over him as he closed his eyes and lost himself to the music pounding against his ears.

No doubt a similar experience would await him now if he so desired, but as he watches the crowds come and go on the rush-hour streets, the air of nostalgia slowly fades. Company is not what he seeks right now. Even if his heart was crying out for the opportunity to dance in a stranger’s arms, he doubts the concert experience awaiting him through those locked doors could ever align with the perfection of his memories.

Click.

The image dissolves again, and a pleased sigh escapes him as claustrophobic city streets morph into a landscape awash with deep green hues. Droning chatter and car horns make way for lilting birdsong, overlain by the faint rush of a breeze coursing through crisp summer leaves. He raises his head to watch as sun beams drift through a thick, protective barrier of gnarled branches, their golden rays dancing across the forest floor as the wind subtly shifts the world around him.

A light mist implies a recent rainfall. Scattered dewdrops linger on low-hanging leaves and Mark can almost smell the damp earth as he lets himself be carried past the growing pines, the forests’ debris crunching underfoot as he walks. He cautiously steps over a skeletal root and takes care to avoid the sprouting bluebells scattered across the earth, following the deeply-trodden path until he reaches a small, circular clearing at the peak of a steep hill. Overhead branches make way for a direct beam of light and a clear blue sky, and Mark closes his eyes as the sun kisses his face and long grass sways around his ankles. He allows himself one moment to enjoy a nearby warbler’s morning song, before his finger reluctantly tightens on the remote and his surroundings are banished once again.

Click.

The cacophony of waves crashing towards shore and overhanging gulls squealing above the ocean forces his eyes open once more.

For the second time in ten minutes, he is powerless to resist a contented smile as he gazes upon a perfect blue sky, unmarred by clouds or chemtrails. Calm, shimmering waves wash up against golden sands before politely receding, leaving streaks of foam in their wake, and on either side of him the coast curves endlessly with no other individual in sight. If he were to stroll along the sandy path, he would eventually reach the root of a grassy hill which offers direct passage to a rocky cliff-face, serving as the perfect spot to leap into the freezing waters below.

Recognition tugs at his mind like an insistent child as he tries to pinpoint his exact location. Los Angeles? Cornwall? Perhaps he’s even wound up on the Mediterranean coast and his brain is merely trying to take him on a tour of past holidays. Either that or the beach is an amalgamation of many; a fiction created to resemble the closest approximation of heaven on Earth. As undisturbed peace washes over him, Mark finds that he doesn’t care where he is. He simply lets himself get lost in the view and the ocean’s song, and if he empties his mind, he can almost imagine the heat eliciting sweat from his skin and the specific tang of salt in the clean sea-air.

It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when his reverie is broken by an insistent ringing. Too long no doubt, if the sharp ache in his heart is any indication. For a moment he considers letting the video-call go unanswered. As one shrill beep follows another, his treacherous mind cannot help but wonder if he should ignore his summons and spare himself the agonising scrutiny he’s about to endure. It’s certainly a tempting notion, albeit not one he can indulge in for too long. He has been waiting all day for this call, and these meetings have become too regular for him to convincingly claim he forgot it was happening.

Bidding a silent, mournful farewell to the earthen beach before him, he clicks the button on the remote with a sense of finality; peeling the virtual reality mask from his head the instant the screen goes black. The act of removing the mask takes more effort than it should. The cool straps feel like they’ve physically fused to his skull, and one glance in the mirror above his desk is enough to have him frantically smoothing down sweat-soaked hair. Fat lot of good it does too, not that he particularly cares. His caller will have to settle with dark, mussed locks to match the impressively dark bags under his eyes, though he imagines the latter has become a common sight of late.

He takes a moment to pack the mask away in its case. The device had been a present from Matt on his thirtieth birthday, gifted with the intention of forcing him to join in on games of Fifa. The attempt had been successful for all of two weeks, but Mark has long since stopped using it for mindless video games or trawling through bleak news channels, having instead developed a liking for the mask’s Ambience settings. It’s unlikely Matt will ever forgive him for that, if the accusations of him being a “boring old git” are any indication.

As the ringing persists with no end in sight, Mark huffs a sigh before hurriedly brushing stray strands of hair away from his face, finally reaching across the desk to answer the call with a single swipe on his touchscreen. Relief floods through him as the high-pitched screech makes way for blessed silence, albeit the pleasant solace doesn’t last. The widescreen immediately plays host to a familiar image that makes his heart sink; that of a well-lit office with a pale-blue backdrop and, sitting centre-stage with as uneasy an expression as ever, the man who has made a habit of calling him every single week since the dawn of time, or near enough.

Officially the man’s name is Mister Murphy, which seems entirely too ordinary in Mark’s humble opinion. Of course, Mark is far too lowly to have earned the privilege of conversing with him on a first-name basis, not that he particularly minds. He has absolutely zero interest in become buddies with him, and has made a point in recent years to drop the polite title of ‘Mister’ altogether. Jamie had taken it one step further once by drunkenly referring to Murphy as ‘The Voice of God’, and while Mark would never dare confess it to the man himself, the sarcastic nickname has sunk its claws deeply in his mind.

Murphy looks vaguely troubled today, which isn’t necessarily a surprise. The air of being vaguely troubled seems to have permanently latched onto him, in much the same way as it clings to most disgustingly rich businessmen who hold themselves accountable for the profits of billion-dollar franchises. Tranquility Base is far from the only hotel under Murphy’s watchful eye, but it is certainly the most high-profile, and thus Mark has grown accustomed to his every action being thoroughly dissected through a computer screen. The novelty’s certainly worn off with time.

Of course, to a casual observer, Murphy’s troubled demeanor is far from the most noteworthy thing about his outward appearance. In most people’s eyes, his palpable discomfort probably wouldn’t even register. No, the detail which had deeply unsettled Mark upon receiving his first ever call had been the striking resemblance between Murphy and himself.

They’re not exact copies of each other, but it’s a close thing. Murphy looks marginally older, with deep permanent lines on his forehead and crow’s feet creeping towards his eyes, but the difference between them can only be a couple of years at most. Murphy’s hair is longer and boasts a lighter shade of brown under the office lights, though Mark guesses that’s due to him having the option of lazing beneath a scorching sun. Then there’s the goatee, which Mark has elected to avoid on the presumption that it would look faintly ridiculous on his own face, though Murphy seems to possess the natural gravitas required to pull it off.

Those minute details are where the differences end, however. The deep brown eyes which have a habit of piercing through Mark’s outer shell are strikingly similar to his own. The long nose and pointed chin are practically identical, and even the faint scar above one eye is the same. The resemblance had been so deeply unnerving during those initial introductory calls that Mark retains no recollection of any words exchanged over the course of them, but as the meetings have become more frequent, their shared likeness has simply become yet another bizarre detail in his ever-more ridiculous life.

“You look tired,” Murphy admonishes before Mark can utter so much as a polite greeting.

That’s another crucial difference between the two of them, Mark notes. While he has succeeded in maintaining his Yorkshire accent throughout his extensive travels, Murphy’s vaguely Transatlantic drawl resembles a bizarre amalgamation of what a child would presume a posh English speaker might sound like. It’s an impossible accent to pin down; even trying to guess which side of the pond he originates from is more effort than it’s worth. Rather than being unsettled by the mystery, Mark has clung to it like a lifeline over the years. He has come to acknowledge every notable difference between himself and his boss with a desperate sense of pride.

It ultimately takes him far too long to respond to Murphy’s assessment, which no doubt only proves the accusation to be wholly correct.

“Well, you know,” he starts lamely, though he doesn’t have the energy to admonish himself. “We’ve been busy lately. Probably haven’t been sleeping as much as I should.”

It isn’t a lie, though Mark would be hard-pressed to remember a time where he wasn’t busy to the point of exhaustion. Murphy’s accusation has probably been uttered more times during these video-calls than a polite ‘hello’, but the man has yet to offer any solutions that would help lighten Mark’s back-breaking load.

He keeps a trained eye on Murphy’s face, searching for any micro-expressions which could help guide the conversation forward, but he remains infuriatingly impassive as though silently willing Mark to keep talking.

“I, uh-” Mark huffs a weak laugh and finds his eyes drawn away from the screen, suddenly more preoccupied with picking at the skin of his fingers. “I’ve taken a few evenings off from the band, just to take the edge off. We’ve flown a chamber orchestra over, so they do alternate nights now. Just to add some variety, like. They’re a bit on the expensive side but they’re good at what they do. The best even. The guests seem to like ‘em.”

“I’m sure they do,” Murphy says dismissively, straightening in his high-backed hair and rubbing at his forehead with barely concealed impatience. The image reminds Mark of a long-suffering parent preparing to admonish an unruly child after they’ve splashed paint on the walls of their bedroom, forcing him to fight the urge to release a bitter laugh. “But I’d advise against taking frequent nights off. You and your little band are the main attraction. Our guests don’t pay the fees they do for some run-of-the-mill orchestra they could watch at their local hall.”

“Well, I don’t hear anyone complaining,” Mark responds with barely contained venom. He’s treading on extremely thin ice and he knows it, but he stopped being terrified of Murphy years ago, and the man’s superhuman expectations of him have grown more grating week by week. “If I recall correctly, our profits have been better than ever this year.”

There’s a pause at that which seems to stretch for hours, and Mark cringes at the way his breath shudders in his chest as the figure onscreen swallows down barely-concealed anger.

“That is true,” Murphy concedes, no doubt with a certain degree of reluctance, though to the man’s credit, his voice remains remarkably even. “And we’d like to keep things moving in that direction. Which is why we need you, Mark. Your work is important to us, even if you don’t seem to agree.”

It’s not intended as a compliment, and Mark isn’t naïve enough to take it as one. Maybe he would have been flattered by those words once. When the hotel was still a passion project of his – a cardboard model created at the dawn of a new space-age – but that was before the reality of the business had leeched him dry and left him cold. Murphy doesn’t care for him any more than he cares for the cello player in the backup band; the only reason he’s bothered to learn Mark’s name is because he knows he can profit off of draining him dry.

He lets the silence stretch on to the point where it must surely be uncomfortable. His fingers have stopped providing him with ample amusement and he moves on to fiddling with the hem of his cuffs, fastening and unfastening the cufflinks in a comforting routine. Perhaps if he continues to say nothing, Murphy will grow bored of him and move on to terrorising one of his many other underlings. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

No such luck, it would seem. Though Mark doubts he could ever have predicted the words that his doppelganger would utter next.

“Are you happy there, Mark?”

The cufflinks suddenly become far less interesting. Mark forces his eyes to meet Murphy’s own and tries not to shrink under a gaze which is simultaneously alien and all-too-familiar. Murphy hadn’t sounded particularly concerned for Mark’s emotional wellbeing, and he’s under no illusions that the man actually gives a shit about him. No doubt there’s a game afoot, but the rules feel too convoluted for him to bother trying to participate on an equal footing. He’s not a gambler, contrary to the impression he likely gives off considering the star feature of his establishment.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know how to answer the question. In simple terms – yes, he should be happy. He’s secure in a job he’s worked towards for as long as he can remember. His friends are here with him, both onstage and off, and he doubts he’ll ever stop loving the experience of performing music to an adoring crowd. He’s still relatively young and free in the grand scheme of things, and he gets to gaze out at the finest view mankind could ever hope to envision on a daily basis.

And yet, the moments of true happiness feel sparse and fleeting. Reserved to brief moments onstage, or the warm embrace of a friend, or an evening of heavy drinking and dancing in the arms of a stranger. Beyond that he mostly just feels... exhausted. Empty. Like there’s a chunk of his soul missing and he can’t figure out where it is or how to find it.

None of which he has any intention of admitting out loud, especially not to the man on the screen.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing good,” he lies with practiced ease, even summoning up a smile for good measure. It doesn’t linger, and he’s sure Murphy picks up on the way his face falls, but he doesn’t have the ability to care. “Just been a bit tired, like you said. That’s all.”

Murphy hums under his breath, but does not seem particularly concerned by Mark’s answer. Mark almost wishes he would say something else – start waffling on about hotel business or profits or even the bloody taqueria so he can zone out in peace – but there does not appear to be a particular agenda today. Now that the ‘Information Action-Ratio' is open for business, all topic of discussion seems to have dried up, and Mark is still awaiting the eureka moment which will precede his next bright idea.

As the continued silence becomes unbearable, a sudden madness takes hold and Mark begins to ruminate on the idea that has been forming in his mind for weeks now. The proposal is a ridiculous one, despite the fact that it shouldn’t be. Suggesting it to Murphy of all people feels even more so, but for some reason Mark has chosen today to be brave. Brave or stupid, it’s impossible to tell.

“I were actually thinking-” He stops, reassesses, and inwardly scolds himself for what he’s about to say, knowing full well the response he’s going to get. Against his better judgement however, he presses on, prompted by the slight twitch of his opponent’s brow. “I guess I were starting to think it was time for a break. Nothing too drastic, just a couple of weeks or so to get my head in order. Catch up on some rest. I’d stick around in case anyone needed me, but I reckon I could always hand the reins over to someone else in the meantime.”

The more he speaks, the more ridiculous the notion seems, until there’s little else for him to do beyond bow his head and finish with a feeble, “I dunno, it were just a thought.”

Murphy considers his proposal wordlessly, brows furrowed in silent concentration and expression guarded. He doesn’t look angry, which is unexpected, but he doesn’t particularly look like he’s been moved to action either. Instead, Mark watches as a subtle smirk tugs at the edge of his lips, and when he does speak again it’s in a low, calm tone that manages to seep into his very bones.

“And yet you changed your mind.”

It isn’t phrased like a question.

Before Mark can protest, he feels a warm fog settling over him like a blanket’s embrace, making his vision blur for a split second as his eyes grow heavy. The moment passes almost as quickly as it arose, though even when his vision returns to him, he still feels trapped in a daze. Murphy’s words resound through his skull like an echo bouncing off the walls of a cave, long after he finds himself pulled from his trance back into the present.

He suddenly recalls mulling over the possibility of a break, not long before losing himself to the charms of the VR mask, and ultimately deciding that it would be a pointless affair. That the tight schedule ahead of him wouldn’t allow a weekend off, let alone a two-week stretch of lazing by the pool or lounging in his hotel room or – god forbid – a lengthy trip back to Sheffield on a company rocket.

“Yeah,” he admits, though he frowns as his voice emerges as small and uncertain. “Yeah, I must have done.”

“Good,” Murphy says with a hint of what might be a smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s genuinely pleased with Mark’s answer or if he just seems less troubled than usual. “Well now that that’s settled, I won’t be keeping you much longer. I’ll catch up with you again next week.”

He doesn’t give Mark time to utter a dazed “yeah” before the call ends with a short beep. The screen is swallowed up by his homepage in a flash; an ancient image of him with the lads, off their faces and grinning stupidly in an old Sheffield pub which has long since closed its doors. He watches numbly as the image of his younger, carefree self morphs into a screensaver of hotel blueprints, before forcing himself to shut down the computer with an air of finality.

Murphy’s weekly calls tend to leave him feeling drained so his current fatigue is nothing new. Perhaps it all ties into his displeasure with business dealings and his particular hatred for the man and his smarmy manner, but more often than not the problem seems to run deeper than that. It always feels like Murphy is much closer to Mark than the thousands of miles between Earth and the moon would suggest, and his influence is inescapable no matter how valiantly Mark fights to resist it. Even the shorter conversations bring little relief. If anything, Murphy’s clear desire for the conversation to end only adds to the impression that he considers Mark to be little more than dirt on the sole of his shoe.

He’d tried to explain his unease to Jamie once, but his struggle to find the right words likely undersold his discomfort. Jamie had only encountered the man once before, having stumbled in on one of their earlier meetings, though to his credit he’d gathered enough of an impression to deem the man an “insufferable twat”.

That reminder is all it takes to break Mark out of his funk, and he indulges in a weak smile before lifting himself from the chair with a groan. At some point over the course of their conversation, the faint artificial lights lining his walls like tinsel have kicked in, signaling the arrival of evening. Well, as close an approximation of evening as one can have while living on a celestial body with barely any sunlight. Mark casts a glance over his suite and inwardly debates whether the king-sized bed or the fully-stocked fridge residing in his tiny kitchenette is tempting him more. Despite the creeping exhaustion which seems like an old friend at this point, the latter’s call is loudest, albeit it isn’t food he craves. Drinking himself into a vicious hangover has become the only appropriate response to a call from ‘God’, and many a night has been spent in pale-faced misery with his head resting against the toilet-lid in quiet anticipation. He doesn’t have a show to play tonight so he’s unlikely to be missed, and tomorrow’s guests aren’t due until well into the afternoon so there’s no need for him to put on a polished performance in the morning either.

He quashes that idea quickly enough. Not the part involving alcohol of course, but rather the notion of drowning his sorrows alone, even if there are certainly worse places to do it.

When he first arrived, his suite had certainly been elegant, albeit in a detached, clinical way that rooms for the ultrarich often are. Cosy, perhaps, but sparsely decorated and lacking any sense of personality that made it feel welcoming. Over the years, however, he’s indulged in several ridiculous purchases and dedicated countless hours to transforming the suite into a homely space. The result is a rather garish mishmash of accessories and decorations which many of his guests would likely baulk at, but seeing as this is the one place where he isn’t required to put on a mask of professionalism, he honestly couldn’t give two shits what anyone else thinks.

The four-poster bed, tidy kitchenette and oak-wood desk housing his computer and scattered notes are all fairly standard, but the seventies pop-art lining the walls and slender lava-lamps flanking his bed - bathing the room in a shifting aquamarine glow - are a tad more unconventional. Tucked into the corner beside his bed rests his beloved Steinway Vertegrand, draped in multicoloured lights which dance upon her ivory keys. Resting atop the wooden surface lies an opened notebook, the sight of which tugs at his heart insistently. If he were back home, those white pages would have so many notes scrawled into them that they’d have been rendered almost entirely black, but as it stands, he cannot remember the last time a song came into his head. Not that the guests or his bandmates seem to care, but his creatively stale mind bothers him more than it should. Though that certainly doesn’t stop him from playing well into the night, reciting the words to old Bowie or Cohen songs as his fingers glide effortlessly along the keys, gently so as not to earn a complaint from his slumbering neighbours.

Much as it pains him to admit, the piano is not the suite’s main attraction. The well-stocked bookshelf filled to the brim with dog-eared novels doesn’t hold that title either, though on peaceful nights those well-worn contents certainly play a vital role.

In the end, nothing can hold a candle to the large, circular window at the far end of the room; its shape and the stunning view beyond giving the impression of an observation deck on a drifting starship. There is no evidence of human interference on this side of the hotel, and the calm grey surface of the moon stretches endlessly beneath a pitch-black sky. Sometimes, if he squints, he can spot the dusty surface of Mars in the distance, and he has dedicated many long hours to resting on the curved, padded windowsill and simply gazing out at the stars. He could waste an evening doing the same now, if he so wished. He could cast aside any intentions of getting royally shitfaced and instead settle down with a good book in his little observation deck, letting the unspoiled view lull him into a sense of peace that not even Murphy can penetrate.

The notion is tempting, and a deep pang of longing grips his heart, but he quashes it down and tears his eyes from the window. Peace is not something that will come to him easily. Murphy had made that crystal-clear in his dismissal of Mark’s request for a break, though he can’t help but wish he’d fought harder. He’d intended to; had even considered the possibility of threatening to quit just to get a rise out of the man, but Murphy had ruined everything by sinking his claws into his brain with little more than a silky voice and the power of suggestion. It’s a remarkable skill of his which will no doubt drive Mark into an early grave one day, but at least then he’ll get some sleep. The urge to consume a large quantity of alcohol rears its ugly head once more, and he surrenders to it with little resistance.

Not here though. This room is too much of a haven for him to risk decorating it with wine stains and vomit. Of course, without the familiar comforts of Jamie, Nick and Matt, the company of the guests is unlikely to be any better than solitude, but he imagines getting drunk in public with a group of like-minded individuals is slightly less pathetic than the alternative.

Decision made, he staggers to the bathroom to splash cool water over his pale face in the hopes that doing so will wake him up, and stares grimly at the tired figure depicted in the circular mirror. All of his earlier fussing over his hair has at least tamed it to the point where it looks somewhat presentable, though he doubts even a week-long coma could erase the dark shadows encircling his eyes. The beginnings of a five o’clock shadow resides on his cheeks, but after staring numbly at his own reflection for several minutes he finds he cannot gather the motivation to shave. Instead, he simply scrubs his damp face with a towel and forces his lips into a weak smile, as though to reassure himself that he can still appear outwardly human.

Finally satisfied with the mirror’s image and once again grateful for all the tiny differences between himself and Murphy, he swans out of the bathroom with newfound eagerness and nabs his room key from its perch, before leaving Room 521 behind and exposing himself to the masses.

#writing #Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #Simulation Theory #Muse #Arctic Monkeys #my fic

11 notes · View notes

multiverseforger · 3 years

Text

Edit

Born in Chicago, Illinois, Marc Spector is a Jewish-American rabbi's wayward son. As an adult, Spector had been a heavyweight boxer before becoming a U.S. Marine serving in Force Recon, afterward, he left the Marines to become a mercenary occasionally doing work for the CIA. As a mercenary he befriends the French pilot Jean-Paul DuChamp, whom he affectionately calls "Frenchie". While working for the African mercenary Raoul Bushman in Egypt, the group stumbles upon an archaeological dig whose crew includes Dr. Peter Alraune and his daughter Marlene Alraune. The dig had uncovered an ancient temple where artifacts included a statue of the Egyptian moon god Khonshu. Intent on looting the dig, Bushman kills Dr. Alraune. In response to Alraune's murder, Spector challenges Bushman to personal combat and is defeated by Bushman and left to die in the sub-zero temperatures of the desert night. The Egyptians who worship the ancient gods find Spector and carry him to their temple. Helpless before the statue of Khonshu, Spector's heart stops. Khonshu appears to him in a vision, offering Spector a second chance at life if he becomes the god's avatar on Earth. Spector awakens, wraps himself in the silver shroud that covers Khonshu's statue, and again confronts Bushman. He defeats Bushman and returns to America with Marlene, Frenchie, and the statue of Khonshu. Deciding to become a crimefighter, Spector creates a silver cloaked costume, based on the silver shroud, and becomes Moon Knight aka "The Fist of Khonshu".[24]

After his return to the United States, Spector invests the money that he had accumulated as a mercenary and develops a small fortune. To distance himself from his mercenary past, he creates the identity of millionaire entrepreneur Steven Grant, using this identity to purchase a spacious estate. To remain in contact with the street and criminal element, he also creates the identity of taxicab driver Jake Lockley and has acquired civilian allies such as Bertrand Crawley, Gena Landers, and her sons.[25]

In the character's first appearance, the criminal organization the Committee supplies Marc Spector with the name Moon Knight, his costume and weapons (using silver) to hunt down Jack Russell. In Los Angeles, Moon Knight captures the Werewolf for the Committee, but then frees him and halts the Committee's plans, fighting Russell again.[26] He battles Conquer Lord,[27] teams up with Spider-Man to fight Cyclone,[28] and fights Lupinar,[29] and his brother Randall, the Hatchet-Man.[30]

His origin of being "created by The Committee" is explained as a ruse set up by Frenchie so Marc can shut the Committee down.[31] He then encounters the Midnight Man[32] and returns to Chicago to prevent the poisoning of its water supply by a group called the Werewolves,[33] encounters Morpheus[34] and teams with Daredevil to fight the Jester.[35] It is around this time that he first encounters Stained Glass Scarlet.[36] Later, he battled the Werewolf once again,[37] battled Bora, and met the X-Men, the Fantastic Four,[38] and Doctor Strange.[39]

Volume 2: Fist of Khonshu (1985)Edit

Spector abandons his Moon Knight, Grant, and Lockley identities after the effects of Russell's bite (lunar cycle-based strength)[40] fade away, and functions as an independently wealthy man opening art galleries around the world, with the help of art historian Spence. Spector's estranged relationship with Marlene ends when she finally leaves him for her ex-husband when he becomes Moon Knight again.

The cult of Khonshu telepathically summons Spector to Egypt and supplies him with a new arsenal of moon-themed projectile weaponry, originally designed by a time-traveling Hawkeye in ancient Egypt. Khonshu himself appears to Spector and enters his body, giving him the same lunar abilities he previously had.[41]

As the agent of Khonshu, he aids the West Coast Avengers, but at the cost of alienating Frenchie and further distancing Marlene.[42] He time travels to 2940 BC to rescue the Avengers, where he learns of his weapons' design by Hawkeye.[43] He officially joins the West Coast Avengers[44] and enters a relationship with Tigra for the remainder of his tenure on the team.

While investigating the Phantom Rider with Daimon Hellstrom, Moon Knight and the Avengers are attacked by soldiers working for Khonshu's rival, Seth, who is invading Asgard. Khonshu abandons Moon Knight to battle Seth after explaining it was his wish to join the team, not Spector's. Moon Knight resigns from the team,[45] and reunites with Marlene and Frenchie,[volume & issue needed] only to die and be resurrected by Khonshu once more.[volume & issue needed]

Marc Spector: Moon Knight (1989–1994)Edit

This volume introduces Moon Knight's teenage sidekick Jeff Wilde, also known as "Midnight", the son of Midnight Man, a member of Moon Knight's rogues gallery. At this time, Moon Knight first encounters the Black Cat.[46] Midnight is turned into a cyborg by the Secret Empire, then is seemingly killed in a battle with Moon Knight, Spider-Man, Darkhawk, the Punisher, Nova and Night Thrasher.[47]

Teaming up with the Punisher, Moon Knight defeated ULTIMATUM,[48] and during the "Acts of Vengeance", fought Killer Shrike, Coachwhip, and the second Ringer.[49] He then encountered Silver Sable and her allies Sandman and Paladin.[50] As Marc Spector, he was tried for murder in Bosqueverde, South America.[51] Moon Knight teamed up with the Punisher again, as well as Spider-Man against the Secret Empire.[52]

While fighting with his brother Randal Spector over who is destined to carry the mantle of Moon Knight, Marc discovers Khonshu is not the god of vengeance but the god of justice.[53]

Moon Knight eventually upgrades his armor to adamantium armor rather than his original Kevlar costume.[54] This upgrade is critical since Moon Knight needs the armor to hold his body together after being infected by the then-possessed Hobgoblin. The disease is revealed to be the villain known as Demogoblin trying to possess him.[55] With the help of Doctor Strange and Mister Fantastic, the Demogoblin parasite is removed. Moon Knight seemingly severs his ties to the Avengers by burning his membership ID card after being brought in by Thor to answer charges in regard to his illegal actions against Doctor Doom.[56] By the end of the series, Moon Knight is killed violently, sacrificing himself to save his loved ones from a computerized villain called Seth and his "Zero Hour" program.[57]

Resurrection Wars and High StrangersEdit

Moon Knight was resurrected in two separate limited series in 1998 and 1999.

Learn more

This section needs expansion.

Minor appearancesEdit

In 1998, Spector uses his Ka to help a critically injured Black Panther through the Kingdom of the Dead.[58]

In 2001 and 2002, Moon Knight joins the "Marvel Knights" non-team to capture the Punisher.[59] After making a brief appearance in the "Avengers Disassembled" story-arc, he makes a minor return in the 2005 Marvel Team-Up miniseries, fighting alongside Spider-Man, Daredevil, and the Punisher. He later appears in issue #2 of the Great Lakes Avengers mini-series where Doorman offered to recruit him in the GLA, but he immediately rejects the offer.[60]

Moon Knight Volume 3 (2006–2009)Edit

This volume opens with Marc Spector's early retirement which comes after a brutal battle with Bushman. Although his body is broken after a tremendous fall and both knees shattered, Moon Knight finally defeats his nemesis Bushman by carving off his face with a crescent moon dart. Spector is then haunted by a spiritual apparition of Khonshu, who chose a faceless Bushman as his ethereal representation. Marc Spector's background is updated, so he fought in the Gulf War and that his time as a mercenary was during the 1990s. It is also revealed that Frenchie is homosexual and in love with Marc Spector; which is why he stuck around for so long.

The new Secret Committee then hires The Profile, an amoral character who can analyze a persona past and future habits with a glance, to help them entrap Moon Knight. He escapes after the plan collapses because they authorized a mugging of Frenchie too soon. Profile then becomes a reluctant source of information for Spector himself, even giving him advice on rekindling his relationship with Marlene.

Moon Knight eventually gets drawn into the Superhero Registration Act as he investigates a string of murders perpetrated by Midnight, his former sidekick. Other Marvel heroes take notice of his violent return to vigilantism. Spider-Man attempts to contact Moon Knight but is rebuked.[61] Captain America pays him a visit to deliver a warning and they quarrel.[62] The Punisher and Moon Knight have a lengthy conversation about the nature of their vigilantism and their shared past.[63] Moon Knight is forced into a final confrontation with his cybernetically enhanced former sidekick Midnight, seemingly killing him for good.[34]

Iron Man also investigates Moon Knight's activities by placing him under close surveillance. Finding his mental condition unstable, Iron Man decides that arresting Moon Knight under the Registration Act might make his mental instability worse. Moon Knight begrudgingly applies for registration after much prodding from Khonshu, not wanting the law to keep him from his work. The new law requires him to submit to a psychiatric exam. The psychiatrist controlling the exam, along with the government and Tony Stark, has no intention of granting Marc Spector approval for registration. After speaking with Spector's repressed alter egos Jake Lockley and Steven Grant, the psychiatrist begins the process of officially turning him down, suggesting possible future imprisonment. Subconsciously Spector breaks the doctor's will by speaking in the voice of Khonshu and pointing out the doctor's own antisocial tendencies, as told to him earlier by the Profile. The psychiatrist not only approves his application but bows to worship him as well. However, later on, Marc meets the Profile with their dialogue suggesting that the personalities above were just an act to be approved for registration.[35]

Moon Knight shows little regard for his newly licensed superhero status or any passion to the people around him, further alienating himself. His former nemesis Black Spectre returns. Carson Knowles, recently released from prison, attempts to frame his murders on Moon Knight. He steals some Stark nanotechnology and plans to unleash it on the city. Moon Knight pushes Knowles off a building apparently to his death. Tony Stark, as the head of the Initiative, revokes his superhero registration, but buries the fact that Spectre had stolen Stark Tech.[64]

The Thunderbolts, led by Norman Osborn, are now on the hunt for Moon Knight. Tony Stark and second-in-command Maria Hill argue with former Avengers government liaison Raymond Sikorsky, now a representative of the Commission on Superhuman Activities, who desperately wants for Moon Knight to be apprehended with extreme prejudice.[65] Marc Spector himself busts up a drug deal while wearing an entirely black costume while going through an internal monologue about how crime-fighting is much easier without the burden of his reputation and "costume recognition."[66]

Several weeks later, after barely surviving an altercation with the Thunderbolts, Spector pleads for Khonshu's forgiveness for turning his back on him and for the god's renewed assistance. Khonshu appears and informs Spector he doesn't need him anymore, as he now has other worshipers. Spector returns to his Moon Knight costume to aid Frenchie DuChamp in gaining revenge on the Whyos gang for attacking his restaurant and injuring Frenchie's lover Rob, only to find the Whyos' attack was designed to draw Spector into another conflict with the Thunderbolts when he is ambushed by Venom.[67] After a brief fight Moon Knight is captured, but escapes when S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up. Frenchie agrees to help Spector, and Ray joins the reformed team as well. Bullseye is released to kill Moon Knight, as Spector prepares to go out with a bang.[68]

Moon Knight is next seen battling Bullseye on the streets of NYC. He eventually leads Bullseye to a bunker/warehouse where he has planted several explosives. Bullseye narrowly escapes as Moon Knight ignites the explosives. Later that day two press conferences are held: one by Norman Osborn to announce the Thunderbolts' success and Moon Knight's death and the other held by Tony Stark who denounces the methods used by the Thunderbolts. At the end of the issue, it is revealed that Moon Knight has faked his death, escapes from the warehouse through a secret passage in the floor, and is hiding in Mexico. It is also revealed that the Marc Spector persona has "died" and that Jake Lockley is now in control.[69]

Now living as Lockley, the Moon Knight escaped to Mexico.[70] Laying low to avoid attracting the attention of the Registration Act any further, Lockley gets roped into a mission involving criminal cartels, two boisterous sibling luchador assassins, and a murderous Toltec avatar. During this stint in Mexico, Moon Knight learns he was being shadowed by The Punisher from the moment he crossed the border. Frank Castle's reasoning was that he knew Moon Knight would find himself somehow involved with the very cartel Frank had been pursuing; however, the Toltec god's avatar made quick work of the cartel.[71]

Eventually, the super-hero Civil War ended with Norman Osborn as director of H.A.M.M.E.R. and with him replacing S.H.I.E.L.D.. Lockley knows that Osborn had been behind the group of Thunderbolts sent to kill him and that a deranged psychotic was not fit to run the U.S.A.'s national security agencies, so using some spoils from the Cartel, Moon Knight decided it was time for a comeback.

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winterknight1087 · 4 years

Text

Flower from the Fae (ch 6)

Chapter Title: He's Cute but Oblivious!

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend, Remy, tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 2515

Chapter Warnings: Deceit mention, fighting mention, food, self-deprecation

Chapter Pairings: Moxiety, Analogical, brief Logan/Patton/Roman at the end

AO3 Link My Writing

A/N: this is chapter 6, so read the first chapter here!

“So this idiot, he goes and announces to the entire coffee shop that the corporate coffee place across the street was giving away free coffee. Everyone who didn’t have their orders placed yet storms the other shop and he places our entire coffee order to a shocked barista. In and out within five minutes.” Virgil was barely able to finish the story as he was laughing so hard.

“That’s a little mean of Dee, though. Weren’t all those people furious?” Patton asked.

“Why do you think I called him an idiot several times throughout that story? I didn’t find out about this until someone spotted our group hanging out and screamed ‘you!’ and Dee booked it out of the park. The rest of us didn’t know what the person was going on about, so I think they ended up thinking that they singled out the wrong person, but it was something Dee would do, so we weren’t really surprised when Dee told us about it later.”

Patton giggled as he laid back against the ground. He hadn’t expected Anx to show up this morning, but he had and they’d been talking all morning. There was something about him that made it so easy to talk to him. It was almost the perfect balance to Lo and Ro. Honestly, Patton wasn’t sure if he could feel as complete without this strange human in his life anymore. He just provided something, not even something Patton could put a finger on, that his other two partners couldn’t. Not that he didn’t love Logan or Roman any less, it was just something different with Anx.

“Hey, Anxie, can I ask you a question?”

“If you are about to ask whether we made Dee pay for the coffee incident, no, we didn’t. It’s one of those things that you really can’t do anything about.”

“No, not that, though I feel like there should be something he could do,” Patton answered. “I wanted to ask if we’re friends. I really enjoy hanging out and talking with you but if you don’t want to be friends, I totally understand!”

Virgil picked at the hem of his shirt, thinking. “I don’t know if two hangouts qualify as basic friendship requirements. Plus, why would you want to be friends with me? From the sound of it, you have lots of friends and two amazing partners.”

“Keep talking bad about yourself, I dare you.” Patton tried to give a threatening look to the anxious man.

Looking Patton straight in the eye, Virgil continued. “I’m a scrawny, anxious mess who only has friends because a coffee addict found me under a pile of dirt. People only really know me as the guy who will go into a panic attack if you look at him wrong. I got the nickname Anx for a reason and…”

Patton tackled the self-deprecating boy and wrapped himself tightly around him. “I’m not letting go until you stop talking bad about yourself… or if I’m overstepping some boundary.”

“I thought you were planning on fighting me?” Virgil chuckled.

His arms went tighter. “I am. I’m fighting hate with love. Is it working?”

Virgil paused before laughing. “Yeah, Pat. It’s working.”

They stayed that way for a while. Virgil started giving the ‘this is awkward now’ feeling, so Patton sat up. “You don’t have to be perfect to have friends, you know? Friendship is about enjoying another person’s company. And something just feels right between us. I’m not saying what it is, as I agree that it may be too early to fully decide, but it is enough to base a friendship on.”

Virgil thought about it before slowly nodding. “Alright, we can be friends and see where all this goes.”

In response, there was a sound that made Patton worry there was a dying whale somewhere around.

“HAVE YOU EATEN TODAY!” Pat screeched.

“I don’t do breakfast.”

“You need to go eat lunch!”

“Ugh, but that involves moving and town is too far!”

“You will go eat food, mister!”

In a random burst of courage, Virgil asked. “Would you possibly like to join me?”

Patton looked surprised but thought about it. “Uh, I think that depends on what the time is, kiddo.”

Virgil’s heart was racing as he checked his phone. “It’s about two.”

“TWO!” Patton jumped to his feet. “Oh no! I’m late!”

“Late for what?”

“Work started at one. I’m so sorry to just run off on you. I didn’t realize how much time passed! I could have sworn it was still like eleven or something.” Patton was quickly gathering the few things he had brought with him today. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later, new bestest friendo!”

Virgil would have sworn he only blinked before Patton was just gone. Disappointment filled his poor gay heart as he picked up his bag and started for town. He tried and failed on getting Pat to go on a… well, it wasn’t a date, but friendly outing. Virgil felt the decision to never try that again sink into his stomach.

He did head home to have something to eat. Though, looking through his kitchen, Virgil realized how badly he needed to go grocery shopping soon. He made a face but pulled out a can of Chicken Noodle Soup. As he waited for the microwave to beep, he couldn’t help but mentally whine that it wasn’t as good as Emile’s homemade version and that this was a joke compared to that. Still, he ate it while watching some conspiracy theories on YouTube.

Before he knew it, an hour had passed and he was genuinely considering not going back to the hill. He was twenty minutes deep into some ‘the supernatural walk among us’ sort of video and his butt was comfortably planted on his couch. Between the two (hot) guys and his friends, Virgil hadn’t had much time to himself in almost a week. Plus, he’s gotten about a total of three hours of sleep in the past two days as he wanted to learn more about the Ixia while it was bloomed. Then, as a cherry on top, though he understood it was neither of their faults, Pat had basically shot him down.

“LoLo said that you are good company, which is his nerdy way of saying he’s excited to see you again!” Pat had said early on in their conversation today.

Virgil set his head on the pillow and let out a scream. What is this disgusting thing? A conscience? Gross, Pat and Emile are bad influences!

With that, Virgil found himself marching out of his house and back to that cursed hill. Any irritation fell away as he noticed the guy he’d met only two days ago, sitting underneath the sequoia. Lo was reading a book but currently was mid-fidget, as if expecting something or someone. Logan would never admit it, but he had been so nervous about seeing Anx again. His heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of the purple hair.

“Salutations” Logan greeted, shutting his book.

“Yo,” Virgil answered, pulling a headphone out. “What are you reading there?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he answered. “What are you listening to?”

“Just conspiracy stuff.”

Logan barely kept the disdain off his face. “Please tell me you aren’t one of the people who believe aliens created the pyramids or Stonehenge.”

“While I do believe there is something out there, I don’t believe some alien took time out of their schedules to build something for us ungrateful humans.” Virgil shrugged. “My friend Emile suggested that I watch them and pick out where the logic leads away from what we know as a mental exercise so that my dumb brain can learn to try and pick out where my thinking goes wrong before an anxiety attack. After watching several, I just found them interesting to think about.”

“Interesting…” Logan said, thinking that idea through. “I believe that to be an unconventional method of addressing cognitive distortions, but it could work.”

“Oh, Emile is an unconventional therapist, usually using cartoons to get people to understand their own issues. He’s incredibly good at it though.”

Logan looked at Virgil’s phone. “Would you show me what this process entails? I am intrigued, but I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”

“Uh… sure?”

Virgil unplugged his headphones. “I’m not sure you want to watch the one I was, as it’s about an hour long, so maybe I could find a shorter video?”

“If that is what you would prefer. I have no time constraints, so I do not mind.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows at the other. “Wouldn’t your partners be concerned if they don’t hear from you after several hours? Pat mentioned that you three live together.”

“Pat and Ro will be working until much later. I typically spend the afternoons and evenings studying or reading.”

“What do all of you do, if you don’t mind me asking. Pat just seemed to vanish earlier, saying that he was running late for work.”

Logan shrugged. “I’m currently a low-level advisor, but eventually be promoted to a senior advisor for an official. Ro does government work but will jump on any and every chance to perform. Pat is a medic.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide. “I hope that he won’t have any issues from being late then.”

“Oh, he won’t. Not that I will ever tell him, and nor should you, but Pat’s boss knows he is incredibly bad at timekeeping. They write him in on the schedule while listing his actual start time as an hour after whatever they schedule his start. If Pat gets there on time, they just allow one of the earlier shifts go home a little early. It works well from what I heard.”

“I feel like there is something legally wrong with that, but I’m nowhere close to being a legal expert to be able to state so.”

“Well, both parties of the agreement are happy with it, even though Pat is unaware of it. He loves his work and it would emotionally hurt him if he lost his job. His boss, while turning a blind eye towards the tardiness, has someone willing to take the harder cases like terrified toddlers without a single thought of arguing. So, this way, Pat gets to continue at his work despite being perpetually late and his boss has Pat’s magic touch with special cases.”

“Oh, I guess that’s OK then? How do you know about this, if Pat doesn’t?”

“Part of my duties are helping the general population with issues, so was the one to suggest the idea. Of course, this was several years before I knew Pat, so advised that they actually fire the late employee, which I’ve long come to regret and understand his boss’s situation better. Now, what was the video you were watching?”

For a moment, Virgil had no clue what he was talking about, before realizing that he had completely blanked on having agreed to show Lo a conspiracy video. “Oh… it’s just a video about the supernatural. Shape-shifters, sandmen, fairies, that sort of thing. I can find a different video if that doesn’t interest you.”

Logan paused for a moment, wondering if this idiot was really that oblivious to who he was talking too. Any lingering consideration that he might already be a fairy’s witch was blown from his mind. “Well, you did mention that the fungi on this hill are referred to as a fairy circle, so might be fitting to watching something about the fae.”

“Fae?”

He really doesn’t know. “The general collective term for fairies, at least the way I understand the term to be used. Fairies are used for speaking directly to or about a small group of fae whereas fae is a collective or non-specific usage. It’s a complex idea.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you interested in fairies, or the fae? That’s going to take a little mental adjustment to use.”

“I blame Ro,” Logan answered, before turning the human’s attention back to the video. “Alright, let’s watch.”

Virgil took a seat next to the man, desperately trying to ignore his poor gay heart. With that, he unlocked his phone and promptly exited out of the video, rather than restarting it. He scowled but opened the message from Remus that contained it.

“Why is that contact named ‘Stinky Trash Rat’?”

“Uh… Long story. Remus enjoys being known as a stinky trash rat. He has a weird personality.” Virgil awkwardly answered before playing the video.

During the video, Logan found himself wanting to scream more than a few times. Some of the facts presented were just off and it was annoying him to no end. He could tell he was just being a perfectionist and, considering what the general human population knew about the fae, the video wasn’t actually incorrect about his beings. That being said, there was one fact listed that drove Logan mad: the fae are not the souls of dead humans! They are their own beings! How dare they proclaim something so wrong about his people!

Once the video was finished, the two discussed the ideas. Logan did his best to pretend that the fairy part of the video didn’t exist. If he acknowledged it, he would dive headfirst into several rants about the minor errors that were driving the poor advisor nuts. In turn, Virgil picked up on the other’s irritation about the section, and was gently trying to coax what was wrong out of the man for what felt like hours to Logan, though it wasn't more than a minute. Unfortunately for him, Virgil seemed very capable of coaxing things out of him.

Virgil listened to the rant that exploded from Logan’s being, confused where he was pulling these details from, but not daring to judge the man. He mentally wondered just how much research this guy has completed regarding fairies. It just seemed like a strange topic for this guy. From what he’d seen and what Pat had told him, Lo attempted to stay focused on facts. For a moment, the idea of Lo being a fairy struck Virgil and he struggled to keep the thought off his face, desperately trying not to laugh.

Soon, it was dark and the two went their separate ways. The second Virgil got home, he burst into laughter at the idea of such a proper person walking around with giant wings and casting magic spells. Once he finally got that out of his system, he sat down and threw himself into research about fairies in order to understand the stoic man’s random interest better.

In turn, Logan stalked through the halls, looking for his partners as he tried to rationalize hitting the strange human with a book on Fae history. Logan found Patton and Roman cuddling on their couch and he didn’t even think before announcing “Well, he really doesn’t believe in fairies. Worse news? I’m getting more of these disgusting feelings towards him.”

The two on the bed started laughing as each took turns screeching “Logan’s got a crush! Logan’s got a crush!”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @that-one-nb-kid

#Flower from the Fae #deceit mention #fighting mention #self-deprecation #tw food #Sage writes #moxiety #Analogical

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