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delimeful · 4 years ago

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WIBAR Intermission: New Friends

winner of the first july patreon poll! thanks to @legendsgates for allowing me to sneak in a brief cameo of their alien species, cetarfreka!

previous intermission episode | start of WIBAR

warnings: violence, fear, tension, ptsd episodes, injury mention, being held hostage, misunderstandings, deception

It was about halfway through their trading circuit that the vidcomm from the Mindscape popped up.

Remyy perked up instantly, Patton’s distinctive singsong voice clear even from half across the main bay. They dropped to their feet and tucked all their wings tight against them to signal that anyone in the way should swiftly get out of the way. Those in the bay who knew them cast strange glances in their direction as they hop-skittered across the floor.

Remyy couldn’t blame them; this was probably the fastest they’d moved all week. They usually maintained a much more casual demeanor for the sake of their reputation, but in this case...

“Patton! Babes, you’re really okay!”

“Remyy!” The Ampen fluffed up, a pleasant glow filling the room around him, face pinching up happily.

In this case, exceptions would be made.

The Obrxyx currently managing the comms sighed at them, unimpressed. “You have this one, then?”

“Sure do,” Remyy drawled, still leaning between xem and the monitor so that half their face took up the comm screen. “We go way back, I’ll get them docked.”

They waited impatiently for xem to move to a different comm terminal, adjusted the seatpad so they could be seen properly through the comm, and promptly started complaining. “I can’t believe you guys, holing up in that rinky dink ship for so long with only voice calls to tell everyone that you were okay! Where’s the gossip? Why in the universe would you keep it from me?”

Patton’s hands jerked, and the comm screen wobbled, blurring his expression strangely for a moment. Remyy tilted their goggles slightly for a better angle, but by the time the mobile communicator stabilized, any change in demeanor had vanished.

“Be careful, Rem,” Patton said teasingly, “it almost sounds like you care about us or something.”

“Funny,” Remyy replied dryly, “I’ll have you know that I’ve just been missing Logan’s high quality deathbrew, none of that sentimental garbage.”

Patton laughed at them silently with his gaze alone. Innocent, naive Ampen, their ass.

“Are we cleared to dock y-- Is that Remyy?” Another voice from offscreen dropped abruptly into horror, and Remy’s eyes narrowed in gleeful amusement.

“It sure is, gurl,” they called, “and the Remyy in question seems to recall a certain bet that was never paid up on. 30 cenals, cough ‘em up.”

There was a loud groan, and then a thump that shook the comm slightly. Patton spent a moment staring at something with a confused frown, and then seemed to get it, nodding. He turned back to them very seriously.

“Sorry, Roman can’t come to the comm right now,” he informed them. “He, uh, died. Very recently. And tragically."

Belatedly, he put on a sad expression, antennae drooping. Remyy raised their eyebrows, unimpressed.

“Uh huh. Well, I suppose I’ll just have to join in on the funeral rites once I get down to help carry the goods over, huh--?”

“No!” The voices of both his friends overlapped, making the comm audio fuzz harshly for a moment. Remyy’s secondaries flared slightly, taken aback at the vehemence.

“Uh, I mean, we don’t have that much,” Patton hurried to patch up the awkward pause. “How about we meet you in the docking lobby instead? You can get Roman’s credits there.”

“Hey!”

Remyy’s ears angled back with displeased confusion, but they acquiesced anyhow. “Hurry up, then. And make sure Logan brings my brew!”

Whatever it was they were hiding, Remyy was sure they’d be able to weasel it out of them in no time.

---

After grabbing a short meal and a boring haggling session between the Mindscape’s crew and the cargo manager of the Starwinder, Remyy finally got to learn about what had happened to Patton during his disappearance.

It wasn’t pretty.

Their senspatches felt dry at the mere thought of Patton stripped of his coat and forced to starve because of it. It was beyond lucky that the remaining two of the trio managed to find and free the Ampen from the harvesters before it was too late. If anyone could do it, though, they believed this crew could.

Patton had grown quieter and less fluffy throughout the course of the tale, with Roman and Logan taking turns delivering a well-practiced explanation of the events. Seeing as these were extenuating circumstances, Remyy submitted to cuddles just this once, allowing the small alien to bury his face in the folds of their leathery armwings.

They took a moment once the story was over, casually and completely unintentionally folding more of their wing over Patton. “That bites, babes.”

“Yeah.” The Ampen hummed in response, mouth pinched strangely. “I… I’m really grateful that I got help when I did.”

Logan set a careful hand on Patton’s back, though the motion almost came across as less comforting and more… cautioning? Remyy’s senspatches flared up slightly as they tried to read more into the situation.

Before they could really investigate, though, Roman was leaning forwards and grabbing the edge of their arm to get their attention.

“Remyy. We’ve been having something of an adjustment period. Drop it, please?”

They flickered their ears at him dismissively, but really… looking at the small crew, they could see a sort of wariness reflected in their stiff posture, the way the three of them constantly cast glances back to the dock hall that would lead to their ship. Trying to make sure they had a quick exit. Whatever the details of their experience, it was stressing them out to lay it all out in the open like this. Remyy could understand that.

“Fine, whatever,” they sighed, sipping at the bitter brew Logan had thoughtfully provided. “I suppose I’ll keep my awe-inspiring ability to root out interesting tidbits to myself for now. I can just grill Lo later.”

The three friends slumped in relief, and Remyy turned their face away slightly to allow them some privacy to recover. They probably wouldn’t appreciate it, that was mostly an Elimtran thing, but it was the effort that counted. They cast about for some other topic to distract. What else had they heard about lately… oh!

“Have you all heard the stories about the rogue Human going around lately?”

There was spluttering, and they turned back to see Roman seemed to have inhaled mid-drink, and was now muffling coughs into his shoulder. Patton studiously avoided eye contact as he patted the Cravon sympathetically. Logan shifted one arm out from where they were politely tucked away, looking intensely intrigued. Strange, he wasn’t usually one for gossip.

“We have not,” he stated, hands twitching in preparation for his thought weaving thing. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Uh, duh,” they replied, trying not to think too much on the rather extreme reaction. If the crew was really so stressed, it made sense that news of a Human would freak them out. Shit, they sucked at this. Gathering information would make them feel more secure, yeah? “It’s been circulating at some of the more shady ports we’ve been to, rumors that a small-tier smuggling ring recently managed to rise through the ranks just because they got their hands on a Human and knew how to use it to their advantage. That much is like, okay, horrifying to know that there’s still Humans out there in the outer ranges, but whatever, it’s under lock and key.”

Patton clung to their wing tighter. They paused, deliberating on whether or not to continue.

“I assume, going by the fact that you called h-- it a ‘rogue’ Human, that's not the case anymore?” Logan supplied, waving for them to proceed.

“Well, yeah. Apparently, it tore through practically half the group members before escaping, and now people are reporting cases of a bloodthirsty Human all over this quadrant. Not that the calls are accurate. It’s just hearsay,” they made sure to add. “It might just be someone trying to work the local governs into a panic, put pressure on the Council for this or that political maneuver.”

Logan didn’t respond for a concerning amount of time. “Right. Of course, that is plausible. Still, thank you for the information, Remyy. We will… keep it in mind.”

Remyy sunk lower in their seat, regretting bringing the topic up at all. “Mm. You do that, babes. Remember the stats, too. There’s a warrant out. Sooner or later, the Council will probably find whoever’s at the source of the rumors and put them to rights, Human or not.”

“That’s… great,” Roman got to his feet abruptly. “I think maybe we should head out soon. We’ve got that next landing to prep for, after all. Holmao isn’t known for its gentle terrain.”

“What?” Remyy’s secondaries flared slightly as they stood up too, abandoning their drink and dislodging Patton. “You just got here! Aren’t you at least going to catch a night’s rest? No offense to your ship, but the arti-grav ain’t exactly stellar.”

“That’s why we need to do more jobs! Save up for better arti-grav installation, right guys?” Roman’s voice seemed slightly frantic. Remyy suddenly remembered what little history the Cravon had shared with them, and swore mentally. They really, really shouldn’t have brought up the Human.

“Ro, look, I’m so--”

Their voice abruptly cut off as a cool line of metal pressed between their wings, right against their life vein. They saw as Roman’s eyes locked on something behind them, scales rising to a prickling stand quicker than they’d ever witnessed before.

“Nobody move,” a voice behind them called in clear, precise Common. “Or you get to bleed out right after this one.” The flat of the blade pressed harder against their back, and they couldn’t stop their ears from flattening completely in terror.

“Let them go,” Roman demanded, halfway to a snarl. Before he could even take a step, though, more armed strangers were swarming into the lobby, barking orders for the few other people currently in the room to get down. Expression dark, Roman held his arms out in a gesture of compliance, though his scales continued to stick out in a defensive bristle.

Raiders, it had to be. Remyy knew they knew the reptilian symbol that was engraved in each of the strangers black masks, but they couldn’t remember the group’s name for the fear flooding their mind, keeping them frozen in place.

One of them kicked Patton clear away from Remyy’s legs, and the Ampen let out a short shriek of pain before clapping his hands over his mouth. The raider behind Remyy laughed, apparently unconcerned about any alarms being raised, but Remyy was more focused on the way the Mindscape crew exchanged panicked glances, Logan kneeling next to Patton and subtly signing something in Crav’n.

“Now, here’s how this is going to work.” The one behind Remyy gestured with their other hand, which Remyy could now see was holding a paralyzer. Raiders were known for using them to get information, since most aliens could take a few shots from one before succumbing to the pain. “You’re all going to line up against the wall while we search your vessels, and in exchange, nobody has to die, got it?”

Remyy could only look straight ahead, so they got a clear view of Patton’s furious glow dimming down to horrified in an instant at the leader’s words. Whatever the three of them were hiding, it was hidden on their ship, and apparently not well enough.

They ran their tongue along their teeth for a moment, debating, and then wiggled their ears slightly, loosening the grip their goggles had until they were slipping down their face slightly. Only their upper eyes were exposed, but with any luck, it would be enough.

It wasn’t long till they managed to make eye contact with a nearby raider; the leader was the one giving orders, after all, and they were being held hostage by said leader, so it made sense that eyes would stray in their direction.

The moment they locked gazes, Remyy flickered their pupils and let their senspatches slowly pulse. The raider took a moment to bob their head in confusion before becoming visibly more relaxed, and Remyy didn’t waste any time. 'Circle around and attack the one holding me.'

The raider swayed slightly for a moment before moving to obey, a side effect of not being exposed to the full hypnotic effect of their eyes, and Remyy had a moment to feel hopeful that maybe they could actually pull this off.

“Grahh’m, what are you-- Oh, you little shit,” the leader spat, moments before a strike to the side of Remyy’s head had them seeing stars. They heard Roman growling furiously, still forced to the ground under threat of gunfire, and hoped that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He wouldn’t be any use if he was convulsing from pain.

“I should have known better than to leave an Elimtra awake and armed, hmm?” The leader flipped them to their back, pressing a knee to their chest and crushing their secondaries uncomfortably against the floor. A moment later, their other hand was shoving their goggles harshly back over their face.

Remyy gagged slightly as all the air was forced from their lungs. “Probably should’ve, ye-- eah,” they replied, struggling to inhale again.

“Funny.” There was a glint of silver uncomfortably close to their eyes. The knife. Remyy regretted the snark. They regretted the snark so much.

The leader paused. “Oren, is it the eyes or the little spots under them that do the hypnotizing, do you recall?”

There was a pause, in which ‘Oren’ seemed to have no answer, and Remyy realized with a chill just what was being threatened. The leader considered them for a moment, and then pulled their dark mask further up to cover more of their face.

“I suppose I’ll just get rid of both, hmm?” The knife wavered closer.

Across the room, there was a loud crash, and a strangled yell that cut off as quick as it started. Remyy watched as the leader’s head jerked up, and saw the moment that the severe frown on their face abruptly transformed into utter terror. Hurriedly, the raider stood back up, and they were pulled up along, shoved in front of them like a shield.

It didn’t take long to see why. Across the lobby, near the entrance to the dock halls, a tall, slender figure was holding the remains of what must have been a seatpad. The rest of it appeared to be lying crumpled along with the limp raider that had been closest to that entryway.

The whisper spread through the room as quick as any small-town rumor: Human.

The being was scanning the eerily-silent space, and when it reached the spot where the leader stood, accompanied by Remyy and friends, it’s lips curled up into a vicious snarl, teeth on full display. It moved forwards in a way Remyy could only describe as predatory, and the leader went tense behind them. “Stop that thing, now!”

One raider, either damn brave or damn stupid, charged right in, and received the rest of the seatpad to the skull for their efforts. Remy winced at the sound. This seemed to be the signal for the rest of the raiders to converge, and the room descended into pandemonium.

In the thick of it all, the Human-- for what else could it really be?-- continued to advance, unrelenting. It wasn’t as fast as some aliens Remyy had met, but it didn’t need to be. The way that it stalked through the room radiated threat like an oath, and when opponents did dare to stand in it’s way, the blows were vicious and crunching, often leaving splatters of residue on its skin.

Most frightening of all was the way it handled the paralyzers, which should have driven any creature with pain receptors to the floor. Each time a shot landed on the human, it would tear the spiked prongs out with a twitch and a grimace and just keep moving.

By the time the leader realized that a strategic retreat was long overdue, it was already far too close for comfort. Remyy heard a swear behind them, and then they were being shoved, hard.

They caught a glimpse of Roman moving, and then they found themself busy tripping directly into a Human’s warpath. So much for surviving this.

They folded their wingarms over their head in some paltry attempt at defense as they fell. There was a grunt, and then a hot grip on their shoulders, all-too-close to the base of their secondaries and stars above were they going to have their glider wings torn clear off--?

“‘Scuse me,” the Human muttered in Common, and then lifted Remyy clear off the ground, easy-as-you-please, and set them down to the side. It brushed past them, heading straight towards Roman and the others, and Remyy stared after it.

Rather than continue after the leader, who had been thoroughly pinned by Roman and was currently swearing viciously, the Human stopped in front of Logan and Patton and dropped to a crouch. Remyy jerked forward, but neither of their friends seemed keen to jump away or defend themselves. In fact, Patton looked to be carefully headbutting the Human’s chest, and Logan was speaking in low, comforting tones. Even stranger, the Human seemed to be listening.

The circuits connected in their mind, illuminating a truly outlandish conclusion.

They whistled lowly, drawing all the attention in the room to them. “Listen up, babes. As a subsect representative of the Council, I’m authorized to do my thing here, so I’m gonna need everyone to follow my directions.”

“Remyy, what?” Roman asked, and was thoroughly ignored. A nearby Cetarfris protested from where they were practically pressed halfway up the wall, red eyes wide and patterned tail thrashing in terror.

“Are you genuine? Do you not see the Human right there?”

Remyy clicked their tongue in reproach. “Gurl, do I not have enough eyes for you or somethin’? I will handle the Human. What else is the Council good for?”

“Uh, governing?” someone else muttered. Remyy ignored them, too.

“I need all the raiders that haven’t already jetted in holding cells immediately. I’m sure there’ll be a hefty reward for members of this particular gang, even if they’re small fries, so anyone who pitches in can get some of that bounty. And remember, keep your mouths shut about this unless you want to be up to your orifices in paperwork at best. If you have to gossip, keep names out of it or I'll know who snitched.” Remyy shifted their goggles up on their forehead, turning to the Human and ignoring the thick tension in the room. “I’ll escort the Human to proper captivity. Roman, Logan, Patton, with me.”

As expected, the mere fact that the Mindscape crew were accompanying seemed to put the Human at ease, even if just slightly. Now, came the bit that would make or break the lie. They moved forwards slowly and reached out for the Human’s shoulder, tugging slightly at it as though this wasn't the creature that had just plowed through a band of raiders like they were dust in the wind. “C’mon, babes.”

After a pause, the Human followed. The relief in the room was palpable, and Remyy was no exception. They liked a good bet as much as the next guy, but generally preferred when there weren’t so many lives at stake.

See, the thing about being a species that was somewhat infamous for their hypnotic abilities was that everyone assumed you were using them, even if you weren’t. This tended to lean more in the direction of being a bad thing, but in this case, it helped Remyy tremendously, as nobody cast a second glance at them as they guided the docile Human through the lobby.

That might also have been because nobody wanted to be in the same room as a rogue Human for very long, but such was the way of things. Small details.

Soon enough, they reached the dock halls, and Remyy swiftly led the four of them onboard the Mindscape. They closed and locked the connecting port after them, and resisted the urge to collapse in relief.

Instead, they turned around to assess the rest of this mess.

It was quite a scene, and at first, they seemed too busy amongst themselves to even notice Remyy.

The Human was curled in on themself in one corner, looking pallid and ill, but also coiled so tightly it looked like they were one wrong word from fleeing the quadrant. Positioned firmly in front of them, Roman was audibly rattling from head to tail, moving on automatic as he bodily prevented the other two from approaching. Remyy would have thought the gesture was for the Human’s sake if not for the way Roman angled his own body, like he expected to be attacked from behind at any moment.

“It’s not safe,” he uttered over and over, gaze haunted. “It’s not safe. You have to hide.”

Patton warbled in wordless distress, and Logan gave up on trying to pull Roman away, instead simply holding his ground and speaking to the Cravon, calm and firm.

“This isn’t then, Roman. We’re here, and that is Virgil, and he is not going to hurt us. We’re safe. We are on the Mindscape. We are safe. Observe the space around you. Can you tell me five things you see?”

Remyy waited unobtrusively as the two of them slowly coaxed Roman back into the present, bit by bit. When he hunched over to be closer to his shorter friends, Patton carefully grabbed his hand, rubbing small circles into it in a soothing gesture Remyy wasn’t familiar with. “You with us, Ro?”

Roman signed something with his other hand, too quick for Remyy to grasp, and Patton smiled, a bit sad. “We’re okay, but there’s a little bit of a situation going on with Remyy, remember?”

Roman glanced at them, and then to the Human, who was still vibrating violently. Remyy had thought it was barely restrained anger, at first, but the longer they watched, the more it seemed compulsive, more fearful than furious. It only increased as Roman’s attention fell heavy on him.

“I didn’t mean to,” the Human said, voice as shaky as the rest of him. “I swear, I-- I just heard Patton yell, and they had weapons, like-- I… I didn't want to hurt anyone. I’m sorry that I-- that I did. But you guys were in danger. I couldn’t just... leave you to that.”

He sounded almost resigned, like he was trying to plead his case but had already accepted deep down that it was pointless to fight his sentence. When Roman turned away from him, his thoughts only seemed to be confirmed, and his face dropped another shade as his gaze darted over to Remyy. He seemed apprehensive, not that Remyy could really blame him. Poor guy probably thought he was about to be surrendered to law enforcement.

“Remyy.” Roman’s voice sounded wrung out, and from Patton’s concerned expression, the Cravon probably didn’t normally force himself to speak after episodes like this. “Virgil isn’t-- He’s better here with us. He doesn’t... deserve to be subjected to the Council just because he decided to... to save us.”

The Cravon opened his mouth as though to say more, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he signed something short and planted himself in a sitting position in front and slightly to the side of the Human, even as his scales still shivered. ‘Virgil’ was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Roman’s right!” Patton took the opportunity to jump in front of them like the universe’s smallest, cutest guardian angel, cloak and ruff fluffed up stalwartly. Most effective of all was the Ampen’s ‘I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed-at-your-life-choices’ look. “Virgil is part of our family, and I’ll fight you about it!”

The Ampen’s tiny glare wasn't nearly as alarming as the assessing look Virgil cast over them, like he thought Remyy was really going to try and fight Patton and was prepared to intervene. They resisted the urge to cast their lower eyes up in exasperation. Who would fight Patton? There was no reward, you’d just end up feeling bad. And also end up getting totally trashed by a Human, apparently.

As always, Logan was the one to get it first. He stepped forwards, extending a hand. “Before you take any legal action against our crew member, I’d like to see your Council identification.”

Remyy’s cheeks bunched up smugly as they stretched their armwings out in front of them casually. “That’s too bad, Brainiac, ‘cause I totally don’t have any.”

There was a brief pause. “What, you guys really thought I was some kind of narc?”

“You lied right to all those people’s faces?” Patton asked, somewhat aghast. Roman shot them a dirty look at the deception, but he also let all the tension leak out of him, so Remyy counted it as a win. Logan simply looked exasperated.

“Not completely. I’ve got connections to get their bounties called in quick, and I ‘handled’ the Human, didn’t I? It’s not my fault if they misinterpreted things.”

“This is all you’re going to do to… ‘handle’ me?” the Human asked, looking uncertain, a little suspicious, and even kind of bewildered. “Just… let me go? What’s the catch?”

They really did roll their eyes up this time. “Babes, I’m covering for you. Seeing as you literally just saved my beautiful face, and these losers vouch for you, I figure you can get some benefit of the doubt. Besides, I’m not done with you all just yet.”

The four of them studied Remyy with varying levels of wariness, and then confusion as the Elimtra strolled past them all to head further into the ship.

“If you think you’re going anywhere before you tell me all about how this whole situation came about, honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.”

#sanders sides #space au #wibar #ts remy #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #watch it burn and rust #wibar intermission #wibar int: nf #writing #my writing #im so tired... zzz #this is the first time ive ever written remy so please be nice #i had fun though ;w;#i cant think of any more tags i hope you guys enjoy!#zzz

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birbleafs · 5 years ago

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AF Zine Pre-orders + Fic Preview

Hello everyone!

I can finally share about the recent project I’ve participated in :D In a Fowl Mood: an Artemis Fowl Zine is a charity zine that features new art and fanfiction made by amazing fans like you and pre-orders are currently OPEN from now till OCT 7th ! All proceeds will go to Make-A-Wish to benefit children with cancer. Be sure to check out @artemis-fowl-zine for more pre-order details and updates. We’re all really excited to be on this project and hope you’ll consider purchasing a copy! 🌟🌟

Here’s a snippet from my fic for the zine. Enjoy! :) __________ Strange Creatures Seven-year-old Beckett Fowl was the first to glance their way; Holly could’ve sworn the child had canine-like senses, what with the way he had whirled around at their near-silent approach. He was the very picture of innocence as he bounced up to them, his radiant curls and bright-eyed stare reminiscent of an eager golden retriever puppy. “Holly’s here! And S’Mulch Dinggus!” Beckett squealed happily as he launched himself at her. Holly embraced him warmly, before waving a greeting to Juliet who stood patiently behind the boy. The dwarf tutted, unimpressed at the butchering of his name. “We’ve been through this the last time, little Mudskipper. It’s Mulch Diggums.” “That’s what I said,” Beckett giggled, turning back to look at Juliet. “S’Mulch Dinggus. Funny he can’t remember his own name.” Before Mulch could get a protest in edgewise, he was interrupted by a small, polite cough. He turned and saw a bespectacled, raven-haired Mud Child appearing by Beckett’s side. Myles Fowl had the same piercing blue eyes as his free-spirited twin, but unlike his twin, he was the seemingly more precocious and finicky of the two. He looked every bit the likeness of his eldest brother, Mulch noted humorously—from the meticulously pressed suit and tie to the neatly-combed dark hair. Heck, the kid had even perfected the infamous Fowl glare to an art form, crystalline and frigid as an Arctic winter. “You’re finally here as summoned, Mister Mulch,” Myles greeted solemnly. He ignored the wet, icky sounds of Beckett blowing raspberries beside him. “Took you long enough.” “Summoned?” Mulch frowned, before a thought struck him. He grinned toothily at Holly. “So that’s what this is about, eh, Captain Short? ‘Detained’, my hairy as—” “Language, Mulch,” Holly said, stepping on the dwarf’s toes all while matching his grin with a serene, innocent smile of her own. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I had a Retrieval squad jump you back there in the house. But it’s not like you were likely to be agreeable and come quietly if you knew the Fowl twins had extended an invitation and personally requested for your… er, assistance.” “Is not invitatitions,” Beckett chirped as he chewed on a piece of purple beeswax crayon. “Arty said summons would do in the tongue of magicks, so we summons S’Mulch!” He gave a sagely nod, his mouth stained and flecked with purple now. Mulch gave Holly a look of disappointment. “Frankly, I’m hurt you think I’d even pass up the chance to humiliate my favourite Mud Boy, and what’s more, by teaming up with his own cute brethren. Okay then, little Fowl nuggets. What dwarfish advice would you need this time?” “First of all, we’re not nuggets,” Myles said coldly, just as Beckett clucked like a gleeful hen and made flapping motions with his arms. “I assure you that we are still one-hundred percent Homo sapiens, even if Beck has gotten very good at animal mimicry of late.” “I see this one’s got a great sense of humour,” Mulch observed drily. “Definitely Artemis’ brother.” “A-hem. As I was saying...” Myles scowled at the interruption, and Mulch held up a placating hand in apology. “Secondly, Beck and I, we thought it through for many weeks—Well, I did anyway. However, we weren’t able to make any significant progress in the lab even with Professor Primate’s expertise—” “Not quite sure where you’re going with this riveting story, kiddo,” Mulch muttered. “But I’m still listening, if that helps.” “—and after several failed attempts, we have conceded that we need help from someone with the right skills. Skills we do not yet possess.” Myles paused, his young face pinched with doubt. But his hesitation was fleeting, and he met both Mulch and Holly’s curious expressions with a determined gaze once more. “We want to throw Arty the best surprise Eldest Brother’s Day when he gets back,” the boy said. “So, would you please honour us, Mister Mulch, and teach us how best to make—” “Flatulence!” Beckett crowed as if on cue, punching a fist victoriously into the air. “Please, brother. Not this again.” Myles groaned. “You boys want me to teach you how to let a mighty rip?” Mulch asked, incredulous. “No, that’s not it!” Myles cried, exasperated. “Beck has gotten it all muddled! He means the fettling process used in pottery, not the crude effusion of intestinal gas!” He tugged frantically at Beckett’s sleeve, trying to stop his twin from belting out his favourite self-composed tune called A Song of Gas and Fire, to no avail. For two whole minutes, the group was forced to listen to Beckett’s high-pitched singing of “Pbbthh, pbbthh, rattle-boom! Gas and fire, gas and fire! Heave-ho, the window’s blown!” “Thanks, little Mudskipper, for that, uh, delightful performance,” said Mulch, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes once Beckett had finished his song. “I gotta say, you sure are a natural. But there’s still something I don’t really get. Why would you need my help for the surprise? Like don’t get me wrong, kiddos, I like you two enough. But what’s wrong with Holly or Juliet here, or even Butler himself? If anything, they’re better suited at picking out the mushy gifts...” He trailed off, thinking hard. “Well, I trust the Big Man’s taste for the sentimental, at least.” “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mulch,” Juliet deadpanned, with only the slightest roll of her eyes. “It’s true Butler had some good suggestions for gifts, but this is a Fowl twins initiative, so we figured we’d let the kids decide on their own. Besides, Beck had other ideas...” “My ideas the best ideas!” Beckett chanted, beaming brightly. “We decided that we want to make Arty a sculpture for Eldest Brother’s Day.” Myles supplied, glancing at Mulch once again. “We know that Mister Mulch is highly attuned to the necessities of good clay work by virtue of his biological make-up— “S’Mulch is good with muds and gas! I wanna learn how to blast clay backwards too!” “—therefore, you are best suited to teach us how to sculpt and—” “And flatulence!” Mulch tried his best, he really did, but he couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. He didn’t know which was funnier: the thought of the twins gifting Artemis Fowl, ex-criminal virtuoso and menace of the People, a squishy caricature blob of his miniature being or Beckett performing a pompous and fartastical symphony of A Song of Gas and Fire for his dear eldest brother. Either way, he was rightfully tickled and the twins were in luck. Unbeknownst to many, Mulch had spent some time dabbling in pottery and sculpting with clay when he’d lived amongst the celebrity Mud Men; he had chalked it up as weird hobby of sorts. “You Mud twins are hilarious,” he said, once his laughter had subsided and he’d managed to straighten himself up again. “All right, I’m sold on this crazy venture. I’ll help with the sculpting of a masterpiece for ol’ Arty-boy.” From the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of Juliet’s smug expression. Her lips were curved into a wide Cheshire grin as she tapped Holly’s shoulder expectantly. The elf only groaned, before she reached into her back pocket to fish out a single gold coin and slipped it into Juliet’s fingers. Mulch frowned at the exchange, throwing them his best hurt-puppy look. “Running a betting pool on me and for only a single gold coin? I’m affronted, ladies.” “You only wish your crooked mug is worth half a penny,” Holly shrugged. “I’m being generous because Juliet’s a friend.” “Aww, I knew you were a big old softie inside!” Juliet sighed happily, reaching forward to teasingly pinch the side of Mulch’s face.

#artemis fowl #artemis fowl zine #beckett fowl #myles fowl #holly short #mulch diggums #juliet butler #af zine #fic preview #zine preview #fanfic #everyone's works are all really amazing and i'm excited to see it in full!!

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butcanijustnot · 6 years ago

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Dating Tony Stark would include:

Tagging @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

(If you have a character you want to see written, or you want to be tagged, PM me and I’ll add it/you to the list.)

- Starting out as his secretary, replacing Pepper Potts when she moved to a CEO position.

- Your first impression wasn’t great. You thought he was just a sketchy playboy who couldn’t commit to anybody and seemed damned to spend eternity alone.

- But hey, things change and as the two of you got closer and worked together, you realized he had a lot of good qualities that the media didn’t see.

- You spend a lot of time chilling out down in his lab, doing work while making sure he’s eating and sleeping regularly. You would talk absentmindedly about your respective lives and get closer quickly.

- Every once in a while, you’d have to handle one of his depressive episodes. His angry or sad moments where he felt like the world was crashing down on him. You weren’t sure what to do at first but you learned quickly to comfort him with calming words, hug him if he was up to physical touching (sometimes he wasn’t, and that was fine too) and make sure he ate reasonably well and slept at regular intervals. During those moments he tended to follow you around like a lost puppy, in constant need of attention and affection to make him feel like he was worth anything. It was sad that life had broken him down to this point, but also quite adorable in a lot of ways.

- He liked taking you to his charity events and galas, and beforehand he’d buy you beautiful dresses to wear and jewelry he said ‘runs in his family’ (It’s doesn’t, It’s Cartier, and you better believe he bought that shit just for you.)

- You, being the slightly unaware person that you are, thought it was just a work thing until a colleague tapped you on the shoulder and said “Hey, Y/N, I think he’s courting you.”

- “He’s what?”

- “Like, I think he’s trying to date you. With the buying you nice stuff and taking you out all the time.”

- You didn’t believe it at first. “No, It’s just… We’re just… He just brings me for work.”

- The colleague just smirked and shook her head. “Whatever, just do yourself a favour and look up the price of the last dress he bought you.”

- Against your better judgment, you did. You looked up the dress.

- “EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!!” You practically screamed as you burst into his office.

- “Oh god, she knows.” Tony whispered to himself, then turned to the startled intern sitting next to him. “Save yourself.” Naturally, he bolted from the room, leaving you and Tony alone.

- “WHY IN THE FRESH FUCK WOULD YOU SPEND EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS ON A DRESS FOR ME?” You yelled, truly dispensing with the formalities at this point.

- “Well, how else was I supposed to get your attention?”

- “…YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED ME OUT?!?”

- “Would you have said yes?”

- “WELL YEAH!!!”

- After Tony managed to calm you down from your rampage, you agreed to go out with him.

- And the rest, as you say, is history.

- He showers you with affection, never failing to express how much you mean to him. He’s screwed up enough relationships by being stubborn and distant, and he’s promised himself he’s never going to make that mistake with you.

- He also showers you with money and gifts, no matter how many times you tell him to stop. You never want to make him feel like you’re taking advantage of him, but he explains that he wants to make sure you’re catered too and doesn’t mind the money.

- Something in a shop catches your eye? It’s yours in a second.

- You broke your phone? The newest model is in your hand before you can blink.

- Your bank account is out of money? Honey, I don’t think so. He just topped it up and dammmmn you don’t think you’ve ever seen that many zeroes in your life.

- Date night is Friday every week to two weeks depending on Tony’s schedule. You don’t mind waiting, because he always makes it worth it.

- He picks you up in a limousine every time, and it never fails to make you feel like royalty.

- He’ll take you somewhere exquisite, a fancy restaurant or a movie premiere that creates an amazing memory. Low-key isn’t an option for THE Tony Stark.

- You’re always in the public eye, being Tony stark’s official “arm candy,” and you have no shortage of cute photos from your dates, courtesy of the paparazzi that always seem to be right around the corner.

- “You know, we don’t have to do this every time.” You say, slow dancing with him in the middle of a crowded room. It was a large party that Tony had thrown to celebrate your anniversary. He’d ordered a strange amount of paparazzi for one of his simple [arties but you were too gleeful to question it. Four years. You couldn’t believe it. “I mean, I enjoy it, no doubt, but maybe we should tone it down every once in a while.”

- “I know…” Tony said, looking off into the distance.

- You knew something was off. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

- “Nothing, I’m just… I’m nervous, that’s all.” He explained. You looked confused for a second before a small drone flew up in-between the two of you. It was a development drone Tony had been building like crazy for the last couple of days. There was something tied to it, dangling about a foot below it. On further inspection, you realized it was a ring.

- Oh.

- OH. - “Tony?” You asked, barely able to speak as you dislodged the ring from the little machine. No, ring was the wrong word. That was a wearable paperweight. A series of beautifully sculpted diamonds with a gorgeous silver band. Gorgeous and no doubt incredibly expensive. The whole thing was probably worth more than your car.

- “Y/N, you’ve made me so happy for so long and I hope that I can return the favour in even the smallest way. I never felt alive until I met you, and the thought of being without you is more than I can handle. My life was dark before you, and I honestly thought that I would never get back to the person I was before, but that all changed because of you. I feel like I can be better with you. You make me want to be better.” He paused for a second that felt to you like a lifetime because at this point time had slowed right down and your heart felt like it was going to burst. “Will you marry me?”

- “YES!!!” You practically screamed at him, jumping into his arms.

- The wedding was surprisingly low-key for Tony Stark. Held on top of Stark tower, most of your family and friends agreed to attend, excited to meet the posse of superheroes who had RSVP’D to the wedding, taking the place of Tony Stark’s side in rue of actual family.

- Rhodey was Tony’s best man and Steve was on…. how do I put it… ‘freak out patrol?’ He had one job and one job only. Get Tony through any cold feet freak-outs that he has and to the wedding on time.

- Natasha was your maid of honour, as well as having a very similar job to Steve for you, not that you really had any doubts in your mind. You knew you loved Tony and nothing short of death would stop you from marrying him today.

- The flower girl was a flower boy, a teenager named Harley. Tony had told you stories about him but you’d never met him before this. God, he was sweet.

- All in all, the wedding was beautiful and picturesque and made the cover of about a thousand magazines afterward.

- Peter was there, naturally, as he was about the closest thing Tony had to a family at this point. The two of you had grown close since you met, and even text each other every once in a while, to make sure you’re both doing alright, and to keep a closer combined eye on Tony.

- Spider-son - I was thinking of sneaking out 2night, but in case I get caught, what sort of mood’s the Tin-man in? - Y/N/N – Would not recommend. Can you wait till Saturday? It’s the day after our date night, and he’s always in a better mood after that. - Spider-son – Oh I get it. ;) Yeah, I can wait a little while. Have fun!! ;) ;) - Y/N/N – I’m not above telling on you, Peter. - Spider-son – Please don’t.

- You worry like mad every time that he leaves with the Avengers or Rhodey or Peter. You know none of them would let anything happen to him but still, you worry. Every time that he comes back you practically bolt into his arms.

- You help him through his toughest moments as Iron Man. The creation of Ultron, the Sakovia Accords and the disbandment of the Avengers, you were there for it all, and you were his rock. You stood unwavering in your support of him, even when you were terrified for his safety.

- Plus, as dangerous as his life is, you can’t help but feel pride on his behalf. I mean, come on, he’s IRON MAN.

- Every time he’s on the news fighting the week’s big-bad, your heart leaps into your throat. It’s like you can feel every punch he’s dealt on your own skin, and you enthusiastically scream cheers along with his victories.

- “Yes… Yes… YES… YESYESYESYESYES!!!! GO TONY!!!”

- “Y/N, you know I win. I’m sitting right here next to you.”

- “Shhhh, you’re about to shoot the guy right in his stupid face.”

- He thinks your enthusiasm is entirely adorable. If he’s Iron Man then you’re his Iron Fan.

- Put simply, your life with him is not a calm one, but it is good, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#fanfic #fanfiction #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagines #avengers imagines

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skivvysupreme · 8 years ago

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“Heroes Never Die” - Kurt & New Directions, Kurt/Blaine

continuing my new favorite thing of throwing Kurt and Blaine into videogames... the world could always use more heroes. :)

AKA the New Directions play Overwatch, and Kurt makes a new friend AKA I, Skivvy, would very much like to be at home playing Overwatch, but I’m not off work yet

@whatstheproblembaby thanks for looking this over as a non-player, lol. hope it makes sense! I don’t know how many of you fellow klainers/gleeks play, but here are some references for anyone who doesn’t *know* the game and wants a little more clarification! you’ve probably seen some of these around tumblr?

part 1 of whatever?

2000 words | read on AO3

“Kurt, I need heals!”

“Then you shouldn’t have run in alone and then gotten stuck in an enclosed space where I can’t heal you, Sam,” Kurt sing-songs into his headset, keeping his wing-suited Mercy attached to Artie’s jet-packed Pharah as they fly around the point area they’re trying to keep control of in King’s Row. Besides the chance to get a good look at the beautiful, futuristic London panorama around them, sticking with Pharah allows Kurt a bird’s-eye view of who needs help. As Mercy, he can see Genji’s low health through the walls, Sam hiding from their enemies in a little room behind the point with a bright red and white plus symbol over him.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d switched characters like I asked. Don’t pick Genji if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Artie says, firing off a rocket in Sam’s general direction for no other reason than to express his bitterness.

Kurt shakes his head. Artie is obsessed with Genji, and skillfully plays Genji as his main character, but Sam had snagged him as soon as the game started and stubbornly refused to switch.

“Like you never get hurt as Genji? I never get to practice him in matches because you always take him!”

“I ALWAYS TAKE HIM BECAUSE HE’S MY MAIN! And you just jumped in there like an idiot--”

“I was going to knock out their Reinhardt from behind, I didn’t realize they'd gotten their Symmetra on the point, too!” Sam whines, frantically spamming the healing request button. Genji calls out over the team chat, “I need healing!”

“If you’d picked your own main instead of stealing someone else’s, you could’ve healed yourself,” Artie snaps, referring to Soldier: 76′s biotic field, a handy little bubble of healing energy that he can use on himself and his teammates.

Ignoring Artie and his salty attitude, Sam’s Genji keeps calling out, “I need healing! I need healing! I need healing!”

Kurt presses the acknowledgement button (”Understood,” Mercy responds in her soft Swiss-German accent) and ignores the healing request. “BOYS! If you don’t shut up and focus, I’m not healing either one of you. Come on, we can win this one!”

“Can someone do something about this fucking Lucio?!” Santana snarls in frustration over the voice chat.

Kurt turns briefly in the air to watch the enemy healer. Lucio has been a problem this entire game, deftly dodging their team’s fire and keeping his own team protected and mobile with well-timed speed and healing boosts. At the moment, he’s circling around on the point as though it’s a very small roller rink, attempting to capture it for his team, though the capture rate is slow because he’s on his own and keeps wall-riding off the point to dodge Santana’s Widowmaker. Kurt sees her sniper shots missing over and over, uncharacteristic for Santana and her main; her bullet streams come close to Lucio’s head but can’t land, and body shots are quickly made irrelevant by Lucio’s self-healing ability. Whoever’s playing him is good.

Santana swears when Widowmaker takes a couple hits from the enemy Torbjorn’s rapid-fire turret and backs off a little, Kurt quickly flying over to her for a quick healing boost before he links back up with Artie. “We’re running out of time and I can’t get him off the point, he’s too fast!”

“Where the hell is--? Oh, there she is,” Kurt mutters, hearing Tracer’s gleeful “Whee!” as Brittany speeds her towards the enemy Lucio. She blinks behind him, in front of him, behind him again, shooting all the time and maneuvering faster than Lucio can catch her. When he finally gets frustrated enough to try and push her back with a sound wave, Tracer rewinds, flipping behind him and taking him out before he can turn around.

“Wooo!” Brittany yells, laughing before she blinks away again. “Got him, babe!”

“That’s my girl,” Santana sighs, resuming her careful attacks on the enemy Torbjorn’s and Symmetra’s arrangement of turrets.

Genji calls, “I need healing!”

The enemy Reinhardt, who Artie and Kurt have successfully kept distracted with rockets up until this point, finally turns and unleashes his special, ultimate ability. “HAMMER DOWN!!!” he shouts, throwing down said hammer and sending a burst of fiery energy rumbling through the ground to catch Tina’s D.Va and knock her off her feet as she tries to sneak up behind him.

“He solo-ulted me!” Tina wails, D.Va’s mech legs wiggling uselessly in the air like an overturned beetle as the Reinhardt marches ominously towards her. From overhead, Kurt can see D.Va’s tiny human figure flailing inside the mech suit, powerless to escape; it would be a comical sight if she weren’t about to take a Reinhardt hammer to the face.

Genji calls, “I need healing!”

Artie and Kurt react in tandem, Artie shooting a concussive rocket to push the Reinhardt off his path and Kurt swooping down to Tina to give her a power boost in case the Reinhardt moves more aggressively than anticipated.

“Thanks!” D.Va chirps, a little thumbs-up icon appearing above her. Tina and Artie team up to take out the Reinhardt, pummeling him with shots from behind and breaking down his shield from the front until he’s finally eliminated. Tina’s D.Va turns her attention to the enemy McCree and Soldier: 76, and Artie and Kurt get back in the air to assist from above.

Thirty seconds remain.

“Enemy turret destroyed,” they hear Widowmaker announce in her smooth French accent, the sound merging nicely with Santana’s satisfied snickering in the background.

“Symmetra and her turrets are out, too!” Brittany adds, activating a voice line so that Tracer calls out her cheerful, high-pitched signature: “Cheers, love! The cavalry’s here!”

Then, just as Kurt notices that the enemy Lucio, Symmetra, Torbjorn, and Reinhardt are storming back to the point way faster than they should be after dying so soon, Genji announces, “The enemy has a teleporter.”

At Sam’s prompting, Genji also calls, “I need healing!”

“Crap - everybody go, we have to clear it out! Destroy the teleporter if you find it!” Kurt calls. The entire team moves as quickly as they can, including Sam’s Genji, who darts out of his hiding spot so that Kurt’s Mercy can finally heal him.

Then, several things happen all at once, beginning with Kurt’s least favorite words in the entire game.

“IT’S HIGH NOON...”

Kurt barely has time to react before the enemy McCree groans in agony, his deadly ult interrupted by a swift headshot that prevents him from taking anyone else out.

“No the fuck it’s not,” Santana hisses as the rest of the team laughs and cheers over the voice chat. Kurt sees her Widowmaker jump down from her perch to join the team on the ground and start shooting at the enemies, who have all gathered on the point.

Tina pops her ult, D.Va yelling, “NERF THIS!” and ejecting from her mech as it speeds towards the enemies and begins to self-destruct.

That infuriating enemy Lucio pops his ult at the same time, jumping in the air and slamming his speaker-gun on the ground. His call of “LET’S BREAK IT DOWN!” accompanies an impenetrable shield around his entire team, protecting them so that D.Va’s exploding mech, normally a debilitating and unforgiving ult, merely pushes the enemy team away from her a little.

“Nooo, that was perfect! That would’ve been Play of the Game!” Tina screams, D.Va immediately jumping back into her replacement mech to keep fighting. Tina’s so loud in her fury that it seems no one but Kurt notices the next horrifying announcement:

“I’VE GOT YOU IN MY SIGHTS...”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Kurt releases his link from Artie’s Pharah, gliding out of the enemy Soldier’s eye line and away from the inevitable carnage. Soldier: 76 pops his ult, his shots landing with deadly power and accuracy on whoever he can see.

Kurt’s the only one who dodges the attack. A bright yellow, triangular icon pops up on his display, noting four teammates dead from Soldier’s ult. Then all five of his teammates are down as the enemy Reinhardt fulfills his inexplicable vendetta against Tina’s D.Va and pins her mech against a nearby wall, his teammates helping him finish her off. Kurt can see little skull icons hovering in the air where each of them fell.

He hears his team’s rage and disappointment over the voice chat but quickly yells over them, “This is our last shot, get ready!” With three seconds remaining, his Mercy locks on to one of the death icons littering the point and swoops in, emerging from her hiding spot and shouting, “HEROES NEVER DIE!”

In a burst of yellow beams, all five teammates reappear on the point, rising from the dead to send the game into overtime. Artie’s Pharah leaps into the air and shouts, “JUSTICE RAINS FROM ABOVE!” as a barrage of rockets comes down on the enemy team, taking out three of them as the rest of the team cleans up the survivors.

The enemy team doesn’t have enough time to get back to the point before overtime runs out. Kurt’s team recaptures the defense point, “VICTORY” appearing on the screen in huge glowing letters. The match is over.

“Oh my GOD,” Artie yells, the whole team whooping and chattering about how close that was. Kurt breathes and presses a palm to his face. He loves being Mercy, but god, is it stressful sometimes.

The Play of the Game animation begins, and Kurt is delighted to see Mercy on screen, spreading her wings and raising her arm in her signature Resurrection move. As expected, the replay shows his game-saving, 5-person rez in the eleventh hour.

“Kurt, that was so good!” Brittany exclaims, all of their teammates voting for Kurt as MVP in the end-game recap that shows the match’s strongest players. He even gets one of the enemy team’s players’ votes, though all the other votes go to their team’s healer, Lucio.

Sam whistles. “Seriously saved our asses, wow...”

“Wouldn’t have been so close if we had a useful Genji...” Artie mutters.

“Seriously, bro?”

“Get good or get over it, Sam,” cackles Tina.

Kurt says nothing. He’s with Artie on this one.

“For fuck’s sake... I’m over this for the night, see you losers tomorrow,” Santana says, she and Brittany quickly exiting the group. The others follow soon after, until Kurt is alone and pressing his fingers to his temples with his headphones resting around his neck.

A bell rings as a little pop-up appears in the upper left corner of the TV, noting that Kurt has a friend request from Nightbird1995. His eyebrow quirks with interest. It’s the enemy Lucio.

The accompanying message reads, GG! By that, I mean ‘great game’ instead of ‘good game.’ Or ‘glorious game!’ What an AMAZING Mercy!!! :) healer buddy?

Kurt grins. What a sweetheart, this Lucio. He accepts the request and sends back, You’re pretty good yourself! I’ll be honest, you were irritating. The mark of a great player :P

If the enemy isn’t frustrated you’re not playing hard enough lol

Agreed. Though I doubt you had as much screaming in your voice chat as I did. My friends are... a lot

Lol. Wanna team up for a few quick rounds? My friends left :(((

Kurt answers by sending an Overwatch invitation to Nightbird1995 and putting his headset back on.

“Hi, Mercy! Or shall I call you ‘Blackbird?’” Nightbird1995 asks, a buoyant tenor voice playing in Kurt’s headphones. The player’s icon is a jar of peanut butter.

Kurt snorts at the picture, but doesn’t comment on it. “You can call me Kurt... Nightbird?”

“Ah, no, that’s my superhero alter-ego. I’m Blaine.”

Blaine... Hmm. “Superhero by day, skilled healer by night?”

“That’s me,” Blaine laughs. The sound is wonderful. “Actually, I can play a lot of characters, if you want to stick with healer. Or I can. I’m versatile.”

What a refreshing change from his usual play group. Kurt likes it. Kurt likes him.

“We’ll see what kind of group we get. Ready?”

“Let’s save the world!” Blaine exclaims, pulling a chuckle from Kurt as he puts them in the queue for a game.

This ought to be interesting.

TBC

#klaine fic #glee fic #gamer!klaine #skivvy writes fic

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its-just-like-the-movies · 8 years ago

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Casting JonBenet (17, B+/A-)

There’s always something about true-crime documentary that feels sketchy as a prospect, the idea being that it’s going to be in the style of one of those lurid television shows that just speculates rampantly about a random case while blurrily-filmed actors carry out whatever horrific crime this week’s attraction will be. With a subject as bizarre and infamous as the murder of JonBenet Ramsay, who very recently was the subject of that kind of segmented made-for-TV documentary that seemed to completely suggest she was murdered by her brother, that potential for ickiness expands tenfold. Thankfully, as you may have heard, Casting JonBenet dodges these particular pitfalls with surprising grace, in part due to the multitude of perspectives it calls upon with the actors all playing members of the Ramsay household, of a police chief, of a confessor, of Santa Claus, in part because the film they’re purporting to make feels like a real film, and in part because it dodges all of the crass nastiness that defines so much of our true-crime media to create something remarkable and multifaceted, without demonizing anyone involved in the murder themselves. Frankly, it’s not even that much of a true crime story so much as it is a portrait of Boulder, Colorado itself, and the people who’ve been haunted by the shadow of this case for decades. We do not just get to hear their ideas, but the ideas behind their ideas, what in their lives would make them consider the things they do about the JonBenet Ramsay case, and for that it’s a much richer portrait of the dozens of people interpreting the lives and legacies of the Ramsay family instead of the family themselves.

For sure, everyone they talk to has an opinion about the case. Patsy Ramsay was considered the killer by most of the adult actors, with various levels of complicity for John Ramsay. The child actors auditioning for Burke are mainly asked about their careers, and the JonBenets only appear three times as a group and one girl completely alone in the finale, almost always as props or for evocative imagery. JonBenet is not the subject of this documentary, despite the title, but neither is anyone else in her family. A lot of the evidence is still baffling, and several odd rumors are given some kind of due by the film itself or one of the participants. Subjects are able to agree with or contradict the confessional interviews of their fellow actors, with the film finding humor in the editing together of these interviews. One woman becomes enraged at recalling a newspaper article that listed Patsy’s looming 40th birthday as a possible cause for the instability that could’ve led her to kill her daughter, and the height of that woman’s fury is then swapped for another woman who so offhandedly mentions that birthday as a plausible contributing factor you can’t help but chuckle. Later on, one of the Patsys says she doesn’t believe nine year old Burke could have the strength to mortally wound his sister with a flashlight, and the next scene is a small montage of different child actors hitting a watermelon with a flashlight with such gleeful abandon that the awfulness of the implication doesn’t immediately register. Even some of the shots during the re-enactment are so self-consciously arty it winds up deflating any somber self-seriousness that could drag the whole thing down. That tonal variance keeps the film moving at a crisp pace, not just in its spare moments of gallows humor but the moments where it highlights something so patently absurd about this case, like the sequence of casting calls for mall Santas to wonder what they’re even doing here.

Initially, the film seems to present itself primarily as an easier kind of speculative crime drama. We’re given brisk self-introductions to the women playing Patsy, one of whom immediately separates herself from the others by wearing a blue shirt and dress jacket instead of the red t-shirt all the other women are wearing, on the basis that Patsy’s pearls were what she considered her most distinguishing feature along with her earrings, and the men playing John. Most of the actors don’t look terribly alike one another, aside from a similarity in age range, and no attempt is made to make any of the actors resemble one another beyond wearing the same outfits. Personalities and faces and hairstyles distinguish themselves from each other yet blur together as the confessionals are interwoven together even tighter and the interviews become deeply personal. But it’s not until after the police chief candidates are introduced that the film really hits its stride. Many of these men are police officers from nearby towns who talk about how they’ve used this case as textbook example of how not to maintain an investigation as recently as the previous day. Many go over how strange the ransom letter is not just at face value, but that it was written using paper and pens from the Ramsay home, meaning someone took the time out to write a two-and-a-half page note evoking kidnapping on behalf of foreign powers, demanding a ransom the exact number of John’s bonus for the year ($118,000.00) after they’d killed JonBenet, and other oddities in the letter. And then one of the actors mentions that, aside from bounty hunting, his night job is in sex education, and then he demonstrates how to properly use several flogging toys in the middle of about five other men wringing their hands at this letter. We’re then treated to maybe the third filmed re-enactment, this time of the sex educator as the police chief being interviewed by a mob of press, trying to dissuade them from going into overdrive and letting the police have time to investigate before a reporter asks if the Ramsays are now suspects. And it’s here that the film truly steps into itself while further enriching its ideas about not the Ramsays, but the people playing them and orbiting them, the things in everyone’s lives that would make them think they could understand what these enigmatic parents were thinking throughout the madness of this case.

Surely a small but consequential detail of the film’s success is how believably real the film this crew is alleging to make looks. Establishing shot often have a white, wintery texture evocative of the original Fargo, with production and lighting values strong enough to make it look somewhere along the lines of, say, a TV movie from a studio like FX that has plenty of money to throw around. I’ve mentioned that some shots strategically take the piss out of the project, but Casting JonBenet manages to do this in subtler ways while letting the actors play out their scenes, letting them give earnest interpretations without letting you ever forget this is fake. As the Patsys call the police, each with their own plausible combination of anxiety and terror, a ladder is visible in the hallway. The Johns find a white blanket meant as a stand-in for JonBenet’s body, and we can see the moveable stand that the hallway light is propped up on. Actors have time to get acquainted with each other before scenes begin, and interviews are conducted at the sets that the performers have been or are about to act at. We are reminded at all times that this is a recreation, not just of a real, horrible event, but one that no one actually knows the events of, except the tragic consequences of it.

I’ve mostly hyped the tone of Casting JonBenet for its unexpected levity, but its best use is in how it handles the surprisingly poignant or unsettling moments that the actors confess to the camera. The movie is mostly a series of months-long audition tapes from the actors playing Patsy and John as they reveal more and more intimate details about their pasts, details from their own lives that make them empathize with or vilify the Ramsays. Performances of the Ramsays and theories of who killed JonBenet and why are all marked by personal histories tied up with everything we know about the family: One woman, commenting on how everyone reacts differently to tragedies, evokes the murder of her own brother as a source of her performance, and mentions that her parents had met the Ramsays repeatedly to comfort each other over the murders of the children, a rare and shocking crime even without the tabloid madness that propelled the Ramsays into cultural awareness. A man compares John waking up and finding his daughter’s corpse to his own discovery of his girlfriend of many next to him in bed, having died of liver failure in the night. A woman recalls one of two moments in her childhood when an older neighbor tried to molest her when JonBenet’s own sexual abuse is brought up, and the sex educator cop appears to tell us that the original D.A.’s belief that it was caused by riding a bicycle or some similar nonsense is physically impossible, and that JonBenet could not have got those injuries any other way but penetrative sexual assault. One man says he may have a greater understanding of Patsy’s mindset now that he too has cancer, and another woman says that her own rage at her child while they were being potty trained and shitting all over her house could’ve been exactly the straw that broke the camel’s back that night as Patsy had to deal with another night of JonBenet’s bed wetting. We later see that woman, in the film’s near-final scene, carrying a JonBenet into the bathroom and later weeping uncontrollably while sitting on the floor, in total collapse.

The film’s actual last scene, as a spookily lit JonBenet actress dances around the empty set of the Ramsay house as “Miss America” plays into the end credits, is a slightly cheap and effective cap on the film, but it’s the previous, gargantuan roulette of re-enactments that’s actually the perfect finish to what the film is really about. As each of the actors gets a turn to play out the murder of JonBenet the way they think it happened, cross-cutting between truly different takes on how, why, and where the killing took place, we get one last, sweeping shot as all of these performers are next to each other, acting out their theories as others actors perform their own interpretation. The whole set is littered with Patsys and Johns, coexisting without acknowledging each other. The woman crying in the bathroom has two other versions of herself and the husband of a different Patsy in the adjoining bedroom of JonBenet, with the other Patsys and Johns carrying on around their “house”. Because at the end of the day, every single one of these people’s interpretations of JonBenet’s death has as much and as little validity as everyone else’s. There’s so few logical or concrete facts to go off of for interpretation, nevermind the DNA evidence excluding the Ramsay family and confessor John Mark Karr from the crime, that all we’re left to go on is what we think they would do based on the parts of ourselves we think we see in these people. The tapes are not as much what the actors think the Ramsays did, but what they think they would’ve done in accordance to the events and histories in their own lives that match up with those of Patsy and John.

Boulder, Colorado is the real subject of this documentary, and it pays rich dividends to director Kitty Green, who expressed such surprise that the actors yielded such poignant and personal information during their interviews. It’s the non-judgemental attitude of her camera, her desire to film and learn about the people of Boulder instead of her titular subject’s family, her allowance of the actor’s narratives to be equally valid while letting their emotions and identifications speak for themselves, that gives Casting JonBenet all the power that it has as a documentary. Green isn’t at all interested in another grossly speculative Who Killed JonBenet documentary, but instead earnestly puts together the portraits of a city still affected by the crime over 20 years later. We don’t know what theories she personally had about the case, but she knows that she’s not the subject here, and the caring she shows and the honesty she gets from her subjects is a much more powerful realization of her project than if we had any idea who Green herself thinks did it. It’s a powerful exposure of the kinds of truths surrounding how people view true-crime cases like these, not just the harden cops who’ve interacted with the case professionally, but the citizens who had to live with the whole thing happening in their backyards, the circus from a distance. It’s not about who they think did it, but the multitudes of ways this case defines them and their lives define what they think of this case. When something this awful and profoundly inexplicable happens, not just because it’s an unsolved child murder but why it’s unsolved, and how bizarre the atmosphere surrounding it is, all we have left to put together what happened is the pieces of ourselves that fit well enough into explaining a tragedy like this. Green gets that, and in making a film precisely about that we’re left with a harrowing portrait of the people of Boulder that leaves the Ramsays as unknowable as they’ve ever been.

#my posts #my reviews #casting jonbenet #2017

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daniel-browne · 7 years ago

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Cold Case Logic #21 Bonus Track: Cruel Smile

I can’t say for sure that Elvis Costello invented the album-length B-side, but it certainly fits his M.O. I noted in my post on When I Was Cruel [nearly a year ago now—yeesh] that Costello is a chronic over-sharer, using interviews and the written word both as a form of “generosity towards his fans and a strategy for keeping us at bay.” He’s taken the same more-is-more approach to the release of his music. From the start of his career, rare non-album tracks didn’t stay rare for long, showing up on compilations that became classics in their own right, at least until he started reissuing the original albums with bonus material, rendering those compilations obsolete. Some of his albums have been reissued three times at this point, with previously uncollected demos, live cuts, and other ephemera accompanying each edition. If a known Costello tune hasn’t appeared as a bonus track by now (I’m thinking of “Party Party,” a daft soundtrack contribution from 1982), you know he must really hate it.

At the time of When I Was Cruel’s release in 2002, Costello had just wrapped up his most ambitious reissue campaign; each of his Columbia and Warner Brothers albums had been packaged with an in-depth essay from the man himself and a second disc of goodies. In the case of When I Was Cruel, he must have figured, “Why put off the inevitable?” because Cruel Smile, billed as a collection of “airshots, imposter mixes, studio mysteries” and “world tour highlights,” appeared just a few months after its parent album.

The tracklist is bookended by different versions of Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile,” the A- and B-sides of a Japanese only-single. Pleasant enough (I prefer the upbeat orchestral take), but neither has much to do with the rest of what’s on offer here. I suppose the most significant additions to the catalog are the two otherwise unavailable Costello originals, both of which have counterparts on When I Was Cruel. If nothing else, “When I Was Cruel (no. 1)” is a testament to Costello’s instincts as a songwriter. He seems to have realized the title phrase was too evocative to waste on such a minor song. The melody is winsome enough, but the delivery is listless, and the lyrics, a tantrum directed at an unfaithful lover, aren’t what you’d call finely wrought (“You must have heard just how absurd/the words poured out of you, you fraud/I guess you don’t know what pain is”). By contrast, no. 2—not a second draft but a completely different composition—is worthy of being the title track of an album as conceptually deep and musically rich as When I Was Cruel. In fact, the comparison is so unflattering, it makes me wonder if no. 1 was worth releasing at all. But that’s Costello for you.

“Oh Well” is a companion to the main album’s “Soul for Hire.” Both were written for the obscure drama Prison Song, in which Costello plays both a teacher and a public defender. “Soul for Hire” is the lawyer’s song, “Oh Well” the teacher’s. Both songs capture the loss of idealism, but the singer of “Oh Well” sounds straight-up depressed: “I had a dream once or so I thought/I'd be a pilot or an astronaut/I had a dream like that until I found/even an astronaut goes into the ground.” Good thing he isn’t the guidance counselor! The arrangement, acoustic guitar against a backdrop of electronic effects, is of a piece with When I Was Cruel, but really this is more of a sketch than a full-fledged song, a curiosity that’s unlikely to hold interest for anyone other than a diehard like me.

So much for the “studio mysteries.” That leaves us with the “imposter mixes” and “tour highlights” (I have no idea what the “airshots” are). Now, I’m not a remix guy. Live versions of songs I already know normally leave me cold, too, although Costello is often an exception to this. In the case of Cruel Smile, the remixes and live cuts are the real points of interest. This is actually the first album to be credited to Elvis Costello & The Imposters, his post-Attractions combo with Davey Faragher replacing Bruce Thomas on bass. Maybe Costello figured the best way to introduce the band was to show they could nail fan favorites like “Almost Blue” and “Watching the Detectives.” If so, the Imposters are more than up for the challenge. Steve Nieve’s melodica solo distinguishes this rendition of “Blue,” and while I own way too many iterations of “Detectives” (I think it’s appeared on every one of his concert albums), this one, a medley with “My Funny Valentine,” is worthwhile because it highlights Faragher’s contribution; he grounds the rhythm in a way Thomas’ cerebral (undeniably brilliant) playing never did.

My favorite track on the album is a gleeful romp through “Uncomplicated,” from 1986’s Blood & Chocolate. The song is an exemplar of the “willfully stupid rhythmic ideas” Costello was playing with at the time (I hear echoes in Spoon’s “Rent I Pay”), and the band treats it as such, more or less stomping it into the ground. My other favorite is a solo performance of When I Was Cruel’s “Spooky Girlfriend,” just Costello’s dub guitar and a soupy drum loop with a small audience chipping in on back-up vox. I wouldn’t mind hearing a whole concert in this format if such a thing exists.

The drum loop is Costello’s acknowledgement of the inspiration he took from hip-hop and contemporary R&B while making When I Was Cruel. The four remixes on Cruel Smile go in a different direction, gesturing toward dance music without reminding you of that embarrassing uncle at your wedding. Not as arty as Tricky’s remix work for Costello in 1996 or as hip as Karriem Riggins’ in 2013, they’re surprisingly re-listenable nonetheless, especially considering that Costello helmed them himself, along with the trio of little-known producers who joined him under the Imposter moniker on When I Was Cruel.

The Imposter appeared on the scene again in 2017, but, alas, not to revisit the fertile sonic terrain of When I Was Cruel. This time, Costello used his semi-secret identity to put out a couple of singles under cover of anonymity. One of those singles, the first official release of a song recorded for a British TV series back in 1998, was a limited vinyl pressing made available only at shows. It’s the first time I can remember there being an Elvis Costello record out in the world I couldn’t get my hands on, but if I know Costello, I won’t have to wait forever.

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