#curse of knoll is to always be tagged with:

[verdemoth]

The second of my FLondon PCs, Knoll! For a reintroduction: Knoll's Kind Of a vigilante but it's mostly incidental. They're not much of a fighter, their tools of choice are dyes and written word. And they're not selflessly motivated; their greatest drive is the furthering of their research into the Neathbow, and it is of little concern to them whether the impact of their actions is over-all positive or negative.

They are a very private and self-serving individual, but they're not entirely without care. The most important person in their life is their partner Josef van Eloheim (oc of a friend off-site) who they love very dearly. They're also allies/kind-of-maybe actually friends with Mel, having connected via acquaintanceship with Josef and forming an agreement to trade information to their mutual benefit.

Knoll's a bit more of a static character than Mel, because they're kind of just vibing? They've yet to encounter any serious setbacks that would push them towards a dramatic shift. But they Have grown; they're a little less paranoid about allowing select people to know them, a little more willing to show their care a little more openly and genuinely.

Readmore below has transcripts of the text in this image

Text Transcripts:

In the top right are some quick details. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Knoll's epithet is 'the Ink-Steeped Analyst' or alternatively 'the Saturated Correspondent'. Knoll's pronouns are they/them, they're around 23-25 years old, and they're 6 feet 1 inch tall. Their residence isn't listed, their profession is 'rogue scientist, poet & pamphleteer'. They don't have a 'closest to' faction as they hold few loyalties.

Below this are some notable player attributes. Of the main attributes, Knoll has high Watchful and Persuasive but low Dangerous. Of the quirks, they have high Ruthless, Daring, and Subtle, but low Melancholy, Austere, and Magnanimous.

Paired with the main illustrations are these notes: "Dresses to control perception. Violant to highlight certain features and leave an intended impression. Irrigo to be difficult to comprehend, and fade from the minds of onlookers. Different outfits target different situations. This one s their 'streetwear'."

"Intentionally disorienting use of irrigo embroidery. It's difficult to perceive their actions when you can hardly remember you're looking at someone."

In the top left are these notes about the colours they use: "The main subjects of Knoll's scientific fixation are the impossible colours known collectively as the Neathbow, and the effects these materials produce in humans through exposure. In particular, the following two are their greatest passion, their work which they have and would devote everything to:"

"Irrigo. The unremembered colour. The light of absence. Over time, it soaks into you. (That's a bad thing)"

"Violant. The invasive hue of necessary but troublesome connections. Indelibly lingers in memory. A Correspondent's tool of the trade, in the form of ink."

Paired with the examples of their masks are these notes: "Body language and tilt of mask convey expression (exaggerated in art for clarity). They have various masks styled after various species, each with different patterns of irrigo, violant, or both."

The last notes are by the illustrations of the sigils on their arms: "Knoll's arms are inscribed with six sigils of the esoteric, cosmic language known as the Correspondence. They have no recollection of how or when they acquired these. They figure they were perhaps the slightest bit 'blackout irradiated' at the time."

There are loose translations of possible meanings of the sigils next to each:

"to arrive at a much-awaited conclusion, but long bereft of its circumstance"

"the perfervid reverberances of that which once was quelled and will not be again"

"an awareness that ripples obscure indiscriminately"

"the revelation that uncertainty is itself an answer"

"a process for recasting forms anew from fragmentary glass"

"possibility unbound, at an unresolved cost"

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 03)

Rating: idek somewhere between PG-13 and M

Word Count: 3047

Warnings: Angst, Canon level violence, Mentions of blood, Foul Language, Din being hot

A/N: Sorry this took so long!!! I'm still not super happy with it but it's coming up on a week since I last uploaded so here. This part covers a bit of the time frame from the last two parts but SURPRISE! it's Din's POV! He's a hard character to write so I hope I did him justice! Please check the masterlist for tags. If you reblog you get a kiss. Also maybe comment if you want to get added to a tag list and I’ll figure that out for next time. 🧍‍♀️

6 hours earlier…

“If it has something to do with the mission, I should know.”

He cursed himself soundly after leaving you in the cockpit. What the hell was he thinking?

The Mandalorian had little to no experience in talking to women. Especially frighteningly gorgeous ones like you, who made him want to see the prettiest parts of the galaxy and tell jokes and laugh without restraint.

You were way out of his comfort zone.

And he had panicked just then, with the revelation that he wanted to know more about you: your past, what you did before you met him, and why a hologram of a crystal would so easily leech your skin of its stunning colour.

It wasn’t new to him, this feeling he harboured for you. Though it had started as something much less terrifying.

Desire was a concept Mando was familiar with. He had visited pleasure houses more than once to get the feeling out of his system, to allow himself to focus better. It had always seemed more of an annoyance or an inconvenience to him than anything else.

With you, it was all-consuming. You were like a flame given form, setting him alight with every brush past his shoulder or utterance of his name.

It had first started back on Sorgan, before the battle had even begun. You had been talking to him about strategy and casually leaned forward to fix the lay of the belt over his chest plate. It had seemed like a natural movement for you but fuck… it did something to him.

It was so much worse during the battle, when he had scanned the swamp to watch you masterfully using his pulse rifle, brow furrowing in concentration. And then finally when you had thrown it back to him, waded knee deep into the water and lifted your hands.

He had seen Grogu do the wizarding thing before, but the child always seemed to look pained, like he struggled with it. With you, it looked… euphoric.

You were an enigma, as were his feelings toward you. So when you asked him, rather shyly, if he might need an extra pair of hands on board or someone else to help protect the kid, he had felt… scared? Relieved? Worried? Confused? Could wizards read minds?

Since then, there had been a liveliness to the Razor Crest that he had never seen before. Laughter, leaking through the closed cockpit doors as you played with the kid down below. Chatter, more talking than he had done in years, so much so that it often left him hoarse the next day. Smiling, though you’d never know it, was a frequent occurrence now, a secret of his kept safe under the helmet.

He wished he could say that the change happened slowly… but that would be a lie. He didn’t fall for you over time; it had barreled through him like a ship through hyperspace.

Grogu had formed a fast attachment to you as well. You two were playful around each other, and the ability to communicate mind-to-mind with him meant that the two of you were mischievous, often ganging up on him or playing jokes.

You would smack fat kisses to the top of his head and he would giggle, such a strange, joyous sound. It would have you laughing along with him in seconds.

Mando loved the sound of your laugh. He loved the sound of your voice.

One night, soon after Grogu had been taken by the Jedi, the two of you had lain side by side on a grassy knoll under the stars, on some planet he couldn’t even remember the name of. He remembered being so worried that, now that the kid was back with his own kind, you would have fulfilled your purpose and you would leave him behind.

He would have given any part of himself to get you to stay. But that night, under the clear sky, he gave you his name.

His full name.

And when you repeated it back to him, the syllables rolling effortlessly off your tongue, it almost undid him.

By some stroke of luck—or maybe you read his mind again—you had decided to stay. And he was so grateful for it, as he had realized that he couldn’t imagine what a life for him might look like without the kid, and without you.

He’d never tell you any of this. Behind the exterior of cold beskar, he worried that you wouldn’t feel the same, and it would drive you away from him. He’d much rather live a life like this with you, never drawing closer, than risk losing you forever.

So he had kept his thoughts to himself today and snapped that shield back into place. He had stalked back into the engine room. He couldn’t face you again today so he would hide here, and toggle around with some loose wires in the left wall panel. And wallow in self-pity.

An hour went by. He had managed to fix a light indicator for one of the engines. Very important. The ship was set to exit hyperspace in a few more hours, so it was probably best to get some sleep while he still could. The next few days would likely be chaotic.

He exited the engine room and scaled the ladder back down into the hull. He tried not to dwell too much on the mission before him, on the unknown figure who had hired him and the value of the bounty. He didn’t like to ask questions about his work. The one time he did, he ended up being chased relentlessly across the galaxy. He ignored the nagging part of his mind that suggested that that same questioning had brought him two priceless companions and experiences he never thought he’d have.

He was quiet as he made his way across the floor. The door to the sleeping nook was still open, and he could just barely make out the outline of your legs through the visor.

So carefully, he removed his belt and armour and stacked them against the wall. Truthfully, he was exhausted, fatigue from the last bounty and stress from the near miss on Nevarro catching up with him.

Easing onto the blankets, he settled into a light sleep.

And woke to a guttural cry.

Up in a second, the night vision in his visor helped to identify the origin of the sound.

You must have thrashed about in your sleep, for the sheets were in a state of disarray and you were heaving… big, uneven breaths that racked your body. Grogu was awake, leaning over the side of his hammock, a sad expression painting his face.

He was to you within seconds, another pained sob bouncing off the walls of the alcove. From here he could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead. You were dreaming.

The kid looked to Mando then, an insistent sound coming from him. He needed to wake you.

Slowly, carefully, he placed a hand over your ankle, squeezing firmly. You didn’t stir. He squeezed again

“Come on, wake up.”

He didn’t expect the speed at which you shot from the mattress.

He also didn’t expect his airways to suddenly close. Completely.

He gasped… and failed to draw in breath.

You were staring at him with undiluted fear, fear and then horror, pure horror as he choked again.

And then you were scrambling away—so at odds with the usual fluidity of your motion—until your back hit the wall with a horrible thud. He reached out on instinct to try to steady you, only then realizing that he was able to breathe again. He savoured the stale air of his helmet for barely a moment before assessing you.

You were cowered in the corner, face pressed into your hands, shaking so hard he thought you might fall apart. An unfamiliar emotion speared through him, sharp and hot.

Before he was even fully aware of his actions he leaned in, so slowly, as to not startle you. You didn’t look up. You were muttering apologies under your breath, like a prayer.

It was jarring for him, seeing you like this. You were always smiling, effervescent, quiet and somber at times but… never like this.

He reached for your hands, body moving of its own accord. If he could just see your face, maybe he could… what?

Comfort you?

He didn’t know how to do that. He had never been taught. His hand stilled.

He regarded you again. Your breathing seemed to be evening out and yet you had sunk into yourself. The tensing of your body had been replaced with a feeling akin to defeat. Still you wheezed your apology.

Something in him strained.

“Look at me.” He meant to sound assertive, but his voiced came out rough, all wrong. Astonishingly, you listened anyway.

Your eyes were haunted. And yet you looked at him like he was the centre of the galaxy. Like your world began and ended with him. Had he not been braced on the edge of the mattress, the force of it may have blown him over. There was a track of glistening wet trailing down your cheek.

How he yearned to brush it away.

You didn’t say a word to him, and he wasn’t going to make you. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you alone either.

Making up his mind, it took him only a moment to climb the rest of the way into the alcove and shuffle ungracefully into place beside you. He was hyperaware of each point of contact between the two of you, felt them like light electric pulses.

He noticed then that Grogu was crying, faintly. You apologized again, your voice only slightly more stable this time.

What the hell were you apologizing for? Mando was fine, the brief shock of the attack long since buried and replaced with something new. It was you who was sitting beside him, curled into a ball smaller than he ever would have thought possible for a human being and trembling so hard it’s a wonder your teeth weren’t chattering.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” It was true.

You said nothing.

He knew what trauma looked like. He had suffered his fair share of it as well. He recognized the way you pushed it down, crammed it into the smallest darkest part of you, filled yourself with something else so it would have no room to stay anymore. He had tried the very same tactic. It never worked.

You had told him nothing about your history and he had been content to leave it that way… until tonight.

“Tell me everything.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the mission, I promise.” Farrik, he was such an asshole. He knew you’d pick up on that comment the second the cockpit door shut behind him.

“I don’t care about the damn mission. Tell me everything.” He hoped you’d get it this time. The meaning behind that sentence. He hoped you’d put the pieces together eventually.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Your voice broke. Fuck, this girl who’d been holding him together for longer than he cared to admit was on the verge of crying in the dark and he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

“Start from the beginning.” When you shakily inhaled to speak, he realized he had absolutely no idea what he expected.

But it certainly wasn’t that.

He allowed himself to dwell on it now, seated alone in a booth lining the wall of some backwater Mos Eisley cantina. He wished for the luxury of being able to have a drink, if only to wash away the feeling in the back of his mind, the nagging idea that when he got back to Peli Motto’s landing bay… you might not be there.

He had landed the ship on muscle memory alone. The truth was his mind had been thoroughly distracted since you had told him the truth about your past. Your close ties with the Empire and the Emperor himself had startled him, but not scared him.

He knew who you were. Perhaps better than anyone else in the galaxy.

You were reserved at first, with a sense of humour that took a while to show. You smiled easily, unrestrained, which was a wonder considering all you had been through. You loved even easier, and he saw it clear as day when you looked at the kid. There may have been a dark side to you, one he had caught glimpses of when you fought alongside him, but how was that any different from himself? How were you any different from him?

He had also spent days and nights worrying over the danger you’d be in if you travelled with him. There was a target constantly on his back and when you had chosen to accompany him and Grogu, by default it had been transferred to you too.

He had considered it, forcing you to part ways with him, sending you somewhere, anywhere, if it meant you were safe. The only difference was he was too selfish to do it.

He had left soon after the ship landed to weave through town, hoping to pick up bits of chatter. But also because he wanted to give you space.

Actually no, he didn’t want to give you space. He wanted you so damn close that he could feel you through the beskar. But you hadn’t ever been given a choice in your life. He wasn’t going to be the one to force you to do anything.

So he left earlier than he had planned, to give you time if you needed it. To pack a bag and say goodbye to the kid. You didn’t owe him an explanation.

Some part of his brain sparked incessantly. At the idea that he hadn’t told you he wanted you to stay. That you didn’t realize just how much him and the kid relied on you.

That maybe… maybe you thought he wanted you to go.

He didn’t notice the hunters until they were sat across from him in the booth. Until the unmistakable tip of a blaster nudged the side of his thigh under the table.

Fuck.

Two Trandoshans, scales reflecting under the dim cantina lights, armed to the teeth. He should have seen it coming.

The one on the left spoke first, his voice a low hiss. “We heard through the grapevine you might come sniffin’ here.” Mando stayed still as death, mind running through a million different possibilities. The gun against his leg was the most pressing matter. If he were to angle his knee down just enough, any blast could deflect off the beskar plate on his thigh.

The lizard kept talking. “We just missed you on Nevarro, but it’s all good.” He tipped the remainder of his drink back and slammed it down on the table. “Here’s the plan, you tell us what you know about the bounty, and we might conveniently miss any important organs. Got it?” His friend chuckled, the blaster shifting slightly.

Still, Din said nothing. Just stared the two of them down. He had come across this pair once or twice before when doing business with the Guild. They were ruthless, bloodthirsty, but untrained. If he could just…

“Or, if you insist on stayin’ quiet, we’ll kill you, get our information elsewhere and take that pretty little prize of yours from your ship as a deal sweetener.”

He moved.

His knee came up, smashing the second Trandoshan’s wrist against the underside of the table. The blaster shot went wide. He heard a crunch. The first was already up, drawing knives.

But he was faster. The table was overturned in a second, nearly crushing the second one as he cradled a limp hand. The first started throwing his blades.

It was a stupid tactic. Most bounced harmlessly off his armour. He caught one midair, twirling it expertly before sending it back.

The lizard had started backing away, almost tripping over his partner, as if realizing his attack attempts were futile. He managed to haul the other one up, just in time for the returned knife to imbed itself just above his beltline. He was dead weight.

The other Trandoshan knew it. He dropped the body before taking two steps back. He turned tail… and ran.

Cursing slightly, Mando stalked after him, but not before slamming a pile of credits down on the bar.

“For the dead men’s drinks.” He explained. The barkeep looked pale.

Outside, both of the suns were beginning to set. The sandy alley beside the cantina was relatively quiet, but he could hear chatter in the distance. The hunter was nowhere to be seen.

He activated the tracker on his visor, watching thermal footprints branch away from the cantina… and then back towards it.

He twisted, following the prints around the side and… up.

He lifted his gaze just in time to see the hunter leap from the domed roof of the cantina. He caught Mando around the neck, sending them both tumbling to the floor. A blast of pain razed across his side, in between the gaps of his armour. He barely perceived it.

Up within a second, he spun to face the Trandoshan. It was crouched, one remaining blade in its scaled hand, blood dripping from its edge. And then it was lunging toward him, swiping, slashing. The blade connected with his armour in a flash of sparks.

He caught the lizard around the wrist, squeezing until the blade dropped into the sand. His other hand went to the throat. And then his was lifting, until the hunter’s feet dangled just off the ground. It wheezed.

He moved until he had slammed the lizard back against the wall of a neighboring building. Only when it started thrashing did he finally throw it to the ground.

It had the audacity to beg. “Please… no, we- we won’t get in your way.” Mando reached to his belt, to the now familiar weight at his side. The darksaber ignited smoothly.

Serpentine eyes went wide. Before he could utter another word, the Mandalorian brought the blade down.

As always, he struck true.

[starsarestars]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much for tagging me @aislinnstanaka

I’m tagging my buddy @rennell bc I want my fuckign Vampire! Gary content, ghost shorts buddy.

It’s a terrifying thing to love somebody so fiercely that an indescribable ache wracks you at the thought of life without them. Dread at the mere idea of a life so ceaselessly dull, so without life itself. She scours desperately for a reason or explanation as to why she feels this way — there was no word or confirmation that what she felt was mutual and yet she did, she felt it so much it was palpable.

Perhaps it was when Henrik had stood beside her, hand in hand, during every single trip to Greece she’s made, fielded through pithy remarks aimed at her shortcomings with a mere comforting graze upon her shoulder, a single concerned glance soothing away the hurt that bubbled in the back of her throat. The way he’d wipe away her tears with such tenderness, cupping her face within his hands and fiercely affirming that she’d not failed, that he was proud of her.

Or when he was there, shoulder to shoulder, during every late night conversation they had on the roof of his beaten up car that he treated as if it was his baby, but for her he’ll bend the rules. Cassettes would hum from the tinny sound system within as they sought comfort in every muttered curse in their native tongues. Polo mints — a delicacy she’d bring over from England just for him — perfume the wintry air as the wind wrinkles the paper crowns they’d taken from Christmas crackers. The dread of going to a Russell Group Uni so young, the weight of throwing her youth away to please those who were too old and uncaring to raise her, the burden of existing — it all melts away when he smiles at her, when he tells her in a whisper that what her family wanted for her didn’t matter and that no matter what happens, there’ll always be a place for her with his family, that she was loved and welcomed and that she didn’t know just how much she meant to them.

Maybe it was when they’d first met, just shy of five and so full of vim and vigour, dawdling away from the sleepy boredom of the Caravan Park and perching themselves on the greenest knoll they could find. When their arms were linked as they spent what felt like eternities looking up at the clouds until they fade into stars, bonding over common words in broken English and sharing what little they had.

The countless decathlons, competitions or whatever trophy fodder her Grandparents made her endure sink to the bottom of her mind like rocks being flung into the ocean, never to be seen again. She can barely piece together her Cambridge experience beyond the confines of her accommodation and if it wasn’t for Lily, her time at Private School would’ve been set adrift in a sea of forgotten experiences. Like driftwood or sea glass that lay nestled the shoreline, everything she and Henrik had experienced fought against the raging current, enduring against all odds and settled firmly in place, defiantly even. On her lowest days her mind will trawl along this shoreline like a scavenger, scoping out the treasures that others wouldn’t look twice at with a painstaking devotion, clinging onto them for dear life.

Henrik has etched himself into every significant memory she ever had. He was there, he was always there.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Rain pt II

Summary: After Supernaturals end Jensen’s life turned upside down. A year later an unexpected movie offer gives his career a second chance but it comes with an unexpected surprises.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x OFC Lili

Word Count: 1034

Warnings: cursing, nervous Jensen

* This is a slow burn series

Part I

A/N: This story has components from my favorite W. Somerset Maugham short Rain and Lace by Shirley Conran.

“I swear.. your..trying to...fucking kill me,” Jensen gasped as he falls onto the grassy knoll. Jared looks down at him laughing. He had been running with Jensen four times a week for the last month, pushing him to go further each week.

“We’ve only gone five miles…”

“I’m not training for a fucking marathon!”

“You said you wanted to do this and told me not to go easy.”

Jensen lays back on the grass, “I know and I appreciate it Jay, I’m just cranky cause..”

“Your menopausal?”

“Funny. No, I’m fucking hungry! Last night I couldn't stop dreaming about those damn double bacon cheeseburgers Dean used to eat.”

Jensen’s new diet was similar to what the Marvel actors did and he swore he’d never do again.

He normally watched what he ate, exercised regularly and was lucky he didn’t have to push too hard to stay in shape but he’d gotten used to nibbling on sweets, thanks to Jared’s addiction, always having something surgery on set. It was the first time he envied his friends hummingbird metabolism, would’ve made this reduction so much easier.

The absolute worst was no alcohol at all ‘cause dammit, he likes his drink.

Jared sat down next to him stretching, “You're doing really good, I can see the changes already.” Jensen’s cheekbones were more prominent and the soft overlay on his abdomen was gone, his toned abs more noticeable, giving him the lean, muscular look like he had in his early twenties, even though he hadn’t put on any muscle mass.

“I still can’t wrap my head around why me? I don’t physically look the part, Davidson’s described more like you Sasquatch, all hair and rangly.” He smirks earning him bitchface.

“I read the book and yeah, you're not exactly type but by the time you lose the weight, makeup and wardrobe, you’ll pull it off. How much you down?”

“Eighteen.”

“That’s good, you’re slightly ahead. Once your there, it’s maintenance.”

Jensen sighed remembering how much Jared had to put away, on top of his already huge daily caloric intake, to bulk up and kept on for demon blood and soulless!Sam a decade ago.

Jared gets up extending his extra large hand and pulls a groaning Jensen with him.

***

October

Jensen's sitting by himself in the green room waiting for the press junket to start texting with Chris Kane about getting together while he was in California.

His other co-stars were seated close together chatting amicably, having either previously worked together on other projects or through events they’d attended.

“Cheer up mate, we’re not all a bunch of snobby assholes, well...some of us aren’t.” He looked up as David Tennant draped his lanky self over a nearby chair. He’d gotten to know the Scotsman a bit when his wife Emily guest starred as Kate the werewolf on Supernatural.

“Just watch yourself around Dockerty,” he says in a staged whisper making her glance over at them. David flashes his signature smile making her roll her eyes, resumes her conversation with Sally Hawking, Jamie Dornan and Jay Laga’aia, “she’s been known to make a porcupine look positively cuddly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jensen remarks, “since she’s playing my wife,” the comment makes David chuckle, “Sally’s seems genuine, you lucked out there.”

David rubs his chin thoughtfully, “Since we don’t know who the leading lady of our ensemble is yet we might be better off cuddling up to the porcupine.”

Jensen remained noncommittal, figuring it’d be better not to antagonize anyone since they would be stuck together for the next four months; three weeks of rehearsals to shake any bugs left out of the script. costume fittings, makeup and hair while work was being completed on the island thousands of miles from the U.S. where they’d be filming during the region’s rainy season.

A PA walked in, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to face the firing squad.”

***

Jensen nervously tapped his fingers against his thick thigh backstage waiting for his name to be called. This junket was making him uneasy, not knowing what the press would ask since Zimmer, who preferred to keep everything close to the vest with his projects, had only released minimal information about this production. 

He hoped the coverage would be favorable since in this ensemble he was not only an odd man out but leading sticks out like a sore thumb man out.

They could hear Zimmer thanking the press, briefly answering questions about the minimal info in the press packets. The announcer went right into a bit of background filler about each of their carriers before introductions.

“At this moment we would usually introduce both leading actors together but unfortunately the lead actresses flight is delayed due to mechanical issues and is on another flight, hopefully to be here soon.”

There’s a brief pause, “This gentleman is better known for his previous hit television series, the longest running of its genre, ending last year after an unprecedented fifteen seasons. Please welcome Mr. Jensen Ackles.”

Jensen counted to five and stepped out onto the stage.

***

“Ms. Dockerty, how does this part compare to that of Lady Mary, since both characters are from roughly the same time period.”

“I’m not sure if we can compare…” Michelle was answering when David picked up his glasses putting them on distracting Jensen. Squinting at someone across the ballroom chucks softly to himself.

Jensen notices a woman dressed in a well worn leather jacket leaning against the back wall. He couldn’t make out her face clearly with the size of the hall but something was familiar.

It starts in the back of the room: a buzzing murmur along the last row of journalists, word spreading, people turning around to gander at the mysterious lady in the back turns into pandemonium.

It’s complete chaos as the whole press core got their full attention on her, some standing up on chairs shouting her name trying to get her to look their way for a coveted shot.

“It appears our leading lady has arrived.” David bemusedly yells to be heard as Michelle was caught saying “fucking hell,” over the open mic. Jensen can do nothing but sit in shocked silence.

Lili.

tbc

Tagging: SPN @donnaintx​​​​​​

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva​​​​​​

Rain @stoneyggirl​​​​​​

[aion-rsa]

The Umbrella Academy Season 2 Goes Back to the Past

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

The world is running out of ‘60s clothing. 

The Umbrella Academy costume designer Christopher Haragon shares this news as he walks through a warehouse containing capri pants, floral-print dresses, and a large muscle suit costume with the $29.99 price tag still attached. It turns out that no textile lasts forever. 

“I know some people have started tearing up upholstery just to get the designs,” Haragon says. 

The 1960s have never really felt that far away for pop culture. Countless movies, TV shows, and comic books have returned to the dramatically fertile ground of the turbulent decade so often that it still feels inexorably tied to the present. But time marches on—buttons fall off of shirts, tie-dye patterns fade, and moths feast on fabric. Soon enough, all the tangible sartorial ties to the ‘60s will be gone. Before they are, however, Netflix’s premier superhero series is set on putting them to good use.

The Umbrella Academy finished its charmingly weird first season with a temporal cliffhanger. As super-powered (adopted) siblings Luther (Tom Hopper), Diego (David Castañeda), Allison (Emmy Raver-Lampman), Klaus (Robert Sheehan), Five (Aiden Gallagher), Ben (Justin Min), and Vanya (Ellen Page) Hargreeves prepared to teleport away from the moon-based apocalypse they wrought, it was unclear where… or when their jump would take them. As the costume department at Cinespace Film Studios in Toronto makes clear: the show had a very specific timeframe in mind for the Hargreeves. 

“I really loved the time period of the early ’60s,” showrunner Steve Blackman says. “There were incredible things going on in the country. And the assassination of Kennedy is just rife with conspiracy theories. So that’s why I decided to narrow it down to that window.”

Yes, you read that right. The Kennedy assassination, Dealey Plaza, and the grassy knoll are all prominently involved in the second season of a major Netflix superhero property. As Blackman describes, the Hargreeves arrive in Dallas this season in the early ‘60s but each is dumped out of the time stream in a different year. Klaus and Ben arrive as early as February 11, 1960, Five in November of 1963, and the rest fall in-between. That’s how The Umbrella Academy must brave both time and Dallas itself to find one another before a certain motorcade in the winter of 1963 brings on…another apocalypse. 

The Umbrella Academy season 2 is loosely based on “Dallas,” the second volume of the original comic book series from Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá. Just like “Dallas,” the second season of the show is funnier, bolder, and stranger than the first. Each member of the titular team, One through Seven, is happy to explain why. 

Number One – Luther is No Longer a Spaceboy

As Luther was fond of telling just about anyone willing (or unwilling) to listen in The Umbrella Academy season 1: “Dad sent me to the moon!” In ‘60s Dallas, he finds himself the same distance from the moon but metaphorically lightyears away from where he used to be. The hirsute, superpowered lug gets a job as a driver for a powerful Texan and puts those ape-arms to good use as an underground bare-knuckle brawler. Despite the violence (or perhaps because of it), Number One may never have been happier. 

“I think it’s quite interesting because Luther’s on his own path to begin with. I don’t think he’s as bothered about the Academy and having to be a leader anymore. He just has to learn to live in the real world,” Hopper says. 

Of course, traveling to the ‘60s means that the dead man who metaphorically haunted Luther and his siblings for all of season 1 is not currently dead. 

“He’s still dealing with the daddy issues he had from season 1,” Hopper says. “And bear in mind that his dad is around somewhere in the sixties. So there’s an element of him wanting to connect with his dad to have words with him.”

Given that the death of Reginald Hargreeves was the inciting moment for much of the action in The Umbrella Academy season 1, “Reggie” (Colm Feore) appeared sparingly. In season 2, however, the enigmatic industrialist is in the prime of his life and is 26 years away from learning about the mysterious, simultaneous birth of 43 super-powered children. 

Reginald continues to loom large over the Hargreeves kids, and according to Hopper, that dysfunctional family tissue is what makes the show work. 

“What I love about The Umbrella Academy, and the reason why I signed on to the project in the first place, is that I read these scripts thinking, ‘I’m not reading a superhero script, I’m reading a family drama.’ That’s at the core of this show. And that’s why I find it so much more interesting than actually than a lot of other superhero TV shows.”

Number Two – Diego and Lila

Of all The Umbrella Academy members, perhaps no one gets a more fantastic ‘60s glow-up than the sullen knife-thrower Diego. While season 1 found  Reginald’s Number Two with a crew-cut vibe, Diego of season 2 gets to let his hair down a bit… literally.

“Well, he’s never really felt like he fit in, so it’s not so much out of his comfort zone to be in a different era,” Castañeda says. “In the first one, he’s kind of trying to stay away from the Umbrella Academy. In the second one, he’s almost trying to bring them all together.”

Joining Diego in that mission to reunite his brothers and sisters is one of the season’s several new characters. Ritu Arya portrays Lila, a young woman who Diego meets in a mental hospital and then can never quite seem to shake afterwards. Diego and Lila frequently interact in the way that Diego seems to prefer to interact with everyone: through fighting. 

“Oh, man. She’s a badass,” Castañeda says of both Lila and the actress playing her.

Aryu’s character has no analog from the comic series but she quickly proves to be an invaluable part of the show’s universe and potentially an important piece of its lore. If nothing else, she certainly helps contribute to season 2’s increased investment in physicality. This batch of episodes ups the ante in terms of action. Castañeda even took some time in-between seasons to travel to Thailand and pick up a little Muay Thai so that he could be a more active participant in the season’s many fight scenes. 

Still, despite the intensified focus on fistfights, Castañeda has an unusual comparison to make for season 2. 

“I binged 10 seasons of Friends in five months this year. You can look at each character in Friends and they’re so relatable to the characters in any successful TV show. You can write it, but can you put the pieces together with the right people and actors to come in and bring those relationships? Based on the first season and what we’re doing now in season two, that formula of ‘there’s love underneath all of this chaos’, I think it sells.”

Number Three – Allison and the Civil Rights Struggle

The Umbrella Academy season 1 came with a refreshing commitment to diversity. Though the comic book team is all-white (which is almost a statistical impossibility given the premise that 43 babies were spontaneously and randomly born around the world), the Umbrella children in the show come from many different backgrounds. 

The Hargreeves’ racial and cultural identities play a major role in season 2. For one thing, it means that the family’s sole Black member, Allison, now finds herself separated from her siblings in Texas at the height of the Civil Rights Movement. This presents an opportunity for Allison that actress Emmy Raver-Lampman doesn’t take lightly. 

“We find Allison in kind of a tricky pickle,” Raver-Lampman says. “She arrives alone and in an era and in a place that’s really dangerous for a woman that looks the way that she does. I think she’s having to quite literally fight for her life in many ways.”

Allison Hargreeves has arguably the most potent power of all her siblings. The things she says tend to come true. By simply opening a sentence with “I heard a rumor,” Allison can manipulate reality to a stunning degree. Her brother Five has described her powers as God-like on more than one occasion. Still, Allison is famously reticent to use the full extent of that power. And the intense social situation she finds herself in may make that reticence a little more frustrating for viewers. Still, Raver-Lampman sees the logic behind Allison’s fear.

“(Her power) has always backfired maybe not immediately, but in the long game. She sees them as more of a curse than a blessing. How she’s using them or if she’s using them or when she wants to use them is a part of her process this season is. Am I going to try to just be Allison or am I going to be this superhero version of Allison?” 

Number Four – The Cult of Klaus

There is some absurdist humor inherent to The Umbrella Academy. One of the main characters is essentially a gorilla-person after all. But while the show premiered on the same day as its spiritual cousin Doom Patrol last year, it’s hard to argue that Doom Patrol didn’t defeat it in the “outright madness” column.

That dynamic may change in season 2. As for why, look no further than Klaus’s arc. Yes, as the promotional material has suggested, Klaus is indeed a cult leader in this show’s version of the ‘60s. It’s undoubtedly a joy to see Number Four in flowing robes and Manson-esque hair. For actor Robert Sheehan, however, there’s a logic to Klaus’s journey beyond mere novelty. 

“We were like, ‘how do we make him keep changing?’ He’s this kind of amorphous creature,” Sheehan says. “We did talk about the idea of starting a cult because so often you have a suspicion that at the top of a cult is somebody who’s letting on like they have answers, wisdom, knowledge, and they can see beyond the veil, but in fact they’re playing a role just like the worshipers are.”

Klaus is in an unusual position among his family as, apart from Five, he is the only one to have time traveled back to the ‘60s previously. That sort of thing (along with a lifetime of drug abuse) can make a guy pretty confident… confident enough to start a cult. 

Number Five

One interesting development of The Umbrella Academy’s trip back through time is that Number Five is now not the only seasoned time traveler in his family. In fact, Five spends the least amount of time in the early ‘60s as any of his siblings, with the timestream booting him out in late 1963. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t have enough experience with the decade already given that season 1 reveals he was the time-travelling assassin originally charged with killing Kennedy, something he opted not to do. 

“I don’t really think there’s too much of an adjustment on Five’s part in terms of being in the sixties,” Aiden Gallagher says. “Everyone’s been here for a long time, so they’ve had time to evolve, but for Five, it’s just been like a few weeks. He’s still in the schoolboy shorts.”

Even in those schoolboy threads, however, Five remains a threat to any of his family’s potential enemies. The Umbrella Academy comes up against Commission interference this season, this time led by a crew of silent pale-haired killers known as The Swedes. As such, Gallagher once again gets to paint Five’s cherubic visage with blood from time to time. 

“There are a lot more fight scenes this season… a lot cooler fight scenes. I think the best summary for what season two is and how that affects all the actors is that it’s the same show, but a lot bigger.”

Number Six – Ben, The Deathly Time-Traveler

The Umbrella Academy is the kind of show that leads to some truly unique questions. A necessary question for season 2 is “wait… can ghosts travel through time?” It’s a tricky metaphysical concept that even Ben actor Justin Min can’t quite wrap his head around. 

“Very good question. I’m confused most of the time I’m here,” Min says.

Rest assured, Ben makes the trip back to 1960 with Klaus and the pair get to continue their living and the dead buddy comedy routine. 

Ben was undoubtedly a breakout character from The Umbrella Academy season 1, which was unexpected given that his character doesn’t appear in the flesh (or the ectoplasm) in the original comic series. Blackman and the writers decided to put Klaus’s ability to commune with the dead to good narrative use and include the Hargreeves’s fallen brother as a more consistent character. 

Though Ben remains in his black “ghost hoodie” and doesn’t get to partake in the same colorful ‘60s stylings as his siblings, he nevertheless gets an expanded role this season. And for that, Min credits The Umbrella Academy fandom. 

“My role last season was quite secondary and to see the fans rally behind the character was more than I could have ever hoped and imagined. I think it’s one of the main reasons why I was able to be propelled into this season with a little more agency because I think they felt like that’s what the fans wanted.”

As a gift to those same fans, Min also offers up one hell of an endorsement of this season’s finale. 

“I screamed for a very long time after I read the final scene. It was nothing like I ever expected or imagined. And I say that in the best possible way. It tops what happened at the end of season one, because I don’t think anyone will expect what happens at the end of the season.”

Number Seven – Vanya  Finds Herself

Speaking of endings: What’s in store for The Umbrella Academy’s resident world-ender this year?

Vanya (with an unhelpful assist from Luther) was the source of the apocalypse in season 1, so thankfully the only way to go from there is up. Vanya loses her memories on arrival in Dallas (it’s not as lame as it sounds) and is taken in by Sissy (Marin Ireland) and her son Harlan. 

“I think she finds a nice sense of peace and solace,” Page says of her character “Because we ended a season where so much came to the surface for her, Vanya is definitely much more comfortable in her skin. She’s more confident. It’s freed her in so many ways.”

Page occupies an interesting position on The Umbrella Academy. Though Number Seven in Reginald Hargreeves’s heart, the well-known actress is number one on the callsheet. And in the second season of this endearingly goofy comic book adaptation, she seems more assured within the world, successfully lobbying the costume department for Vanya to dress “more masc,” and staying positive during a particularly tough scene. “You’ve been tortured before clearly,” someone on set notes as they adjust the restraints on a chair holding Vanya down. Page is also more comfortable shouldering the responsibilities of the show’s most explosive character.  

“The power is fun and exciting, especially in terms of how it manifests and some stunts and stuff this year. Playing someone whose power is connected to their emotions, and what happens if we aren’t being mindful of them, I think that’s what’s so exciting. Also: being able to fuck people up. That’s fun.”

“Fun” is the operative world for The Umbrella Academy season 2. The hard work of world and character-building is mostly out of the way. And while the Hargreeves family and the actors who play them find themselves in a new environment, at least they have each other this time… eventually.

Per Umbrella Academy lore, on October 1, 1989, 43 women around the world suddenly gave birth to extraordinary individuals. Reginald Hargreeves found seven of them and through sheer force of his odious will made them into a team. On October 1, 2019, The Umbrella Academy team took a moment after a hard day’s work of filming to commemorate their “birthday” with a cake.

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on the nineteenth hour of the first day of october, 2019, we all wished the hargreeves siblings a very super birthday 🖤☂️🔪🐙

A post shared by The Umbrella Academy (@umbrellaacad) on Oct 1, 2019 at 4:00pm PDT

Of course, being a member of The Umbrella Academy comes with its own occupational hazards. As Emmy Raver-Lampman explains, sometimes even a special occasion is preceded by an explosive incident involving fruit all over your priceless ‘60s clothes.

“We all got covered in pineapple and then it was our birthday.”

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