#he was so goddamn glamorous in these few issues

[feraldude]

sabretooth icons

like or rb if you use/save

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @debauchfairy & @mortemoppetere LOCATION: downtown wicked's rest SUMMARY: after emilio saves kieran from a vampire, kieran decides to pay him back. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

The current situation had less to do with a lack of knowledge and everything to do with a pathological lack of caring. Kieran knew the risks of playing with the undead, sort of, but when it paid off the reward was usually great. It was also a nice change up from literally having all of the control in a dynamic, a bit of a rush. Until a bit turned into a bit too much and backing out became an issue because of course the faun had let himself be led off to a secluded back room, the thrum of the music muffled. 

“I definitely remember a no biting rule,” he tried playfully, unsure whether the growing discomfort was audible in his voice. The only thing keeping those shiny fangs out of his throat was the hand Kieran had managed to dig into the luscious head of hair, pulling the vampire back at the first sense of something too sharp. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d exchanged a bit of his blood for a fun evening but Kieran didn’t fully trust the owner of these fangs. The hand pressed against his chest pushed a little harder and his coy smile faltered. “Yeah, we’re done here.”

It was a long shot, one that didn’t pay off. The second he pushed at the arm holding him in place, any pretense the vampire had of holding back vanished. A hand on his chest turned into a forearm pressing down, keeping Kieran pinned against the wall. He gave up his grip on the locks of hair in the hopes of shoving the man off, which again, long shot. The bite hurt like a bitch, not careful in the slightest and no excitement present to mask the pain. “Ow! Seriously, fuck off!” 

Focus now completely on the brick of an arm holding him in place, the glamor began to slip and all Kieran could think was why something this dangerous also had to be so damn attractive. 

—

These damn vampire bars were the bane of Emilio’s fucking existence. They were a bad idea all around; bad for the idiots stupid enough to let strangers snack on their throats, bad for the vampires who only thought they had control of themselves until they didn’t, bad for the slayers who got themselves killed trying to put an end to the whole mess, bad for Emilio, who just wanted to have one goddamn night where something wasn’t getting on his fucking nerves. That night, it seemed, wouldn’t be tonight. Tonight, three people had turned up dead after visiting this stupid fucking bar, and all three of them had been spotted with the same vampire hours before their bodies turned up. So tonight, Emilio had to waste his time taking out the damn trash.

It was hard to imagine that it wasn’t intentional, at this point. One body might be a temporary lapse in control, but three was a damn spree. Three was someone who’d gotten a taste of power and liked it, the kind of person who’d leave a trail of bodies behind them for decades if no one stepped in to stop them. So Emilio swallowed the feeling in his gut that told him to go anywhere but the bar full of enough undead to make his senses go into overdrive. He walked up to the bar, he made small talk, he pretended not to notice how many people were staring at his pulse in his throat like it was a pie cooling on a windowsill. 

He managed to get information from the bartender with a few good lies and an empty promise to meet the guy in the alley when he was finished here. The man was lucky that Emilio had no intention of honoring the agreement; he’d be in for a sour surprise if he tried taking a bite out of the slayer’s neck, after all. But that wasn’t what Emilio was here for. He had a job to do, and he intended to do it. He slipped into the back room just in time to find his target making a meal out of… a goat man? It took Emilio a moment to make sense of it. He remembered Bridie, pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. Right. A faun. 

It didn’t matter much, though. What mattered was the vampire looking to leave a fourth body in as many nights; that was something Emilio couldn’t let slide. He grabbed the vampire by the back of the neck, yanking him off the faun and slamming him into the wall. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said flatly, letting a stake slide into his hand.

—

Kieran wasn’t sure how far this vampire intended to go but he did know that he had zero say in the matter. Pushing back only meant more pressure on his chest and the added discomfort of much too strong of a grip on his wrist. Feeling maybe the tiniest bit helpless and definitely not thinking about how disappointed his mother would have been at this situation, Kieran opened his mouth to shout for help that probably wouldn’t arrive. Only it did, which also saved him from making this scenario even more pitiful. 

The quick glance over the top of Kieran’s head didn’t go unnoticed but that was an issue for later. In a second, the newcomer only had eyes for the handsome yet greedy bastard, dragging him off with ease. Filling his lungs now that his chest could properly expand, Kieran blinked at his apparent saviour. Handsome, in that scruffy sort of way, and the dry sass definitely worked for him. With the way Kieran was checking him out - what? The danger was averted - it was easy to spot the appearance of a weapon. “Wait!”

Before the man, presumably the hunter, could strike, Kieran closed the distance and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t seem like the type to listen to a proposition without a tiny push. “Just give us a moment.” By no means was Kieran violent, unless you counted the miniscule amount of fights he’d maybe had a hand in starting so he could see what happened from the sidelines, but this undead jackass had made him think about his mom, for fuck’s sake. So he offered the vampire a smile, spotting a glimpse of hope that Kieran would for some reason convince the hunter to let him go, before driving his fist into that disarmingly handsome face. 

“All yours,” he scoffed, dropping any influence on the hunter as he walked away, frowning at the way his hand ached. Why would anyone do this on the regular? Stretching out his fingers, Kieran gathered his composure with a deep breath, letting his glamor settle back into place before anyone else decided to waltz in here. 

—

Emilio wasn’t expecting the vampire’s would-be victim to step in and demand giving the thing a second chance. He was all ready to argue, to bite the faun’s head off, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. For a moment, something slipped into his chest. The rage and the irritation that always seemed to swirl together in the pit of his stomach paused, leaving him with a moment of pleasant warmth that he didn’t understand. His hand, the one holding the stake, dropped ever so slightly, leaving room for the faun to step forward as the slayer watched with only mild interest. 

He didn’t know what to expect but, for whatever reason, he didn’t see the punch coming. He blinked as the knuckles smashed against the vampire’s face, brows shooting up. There was still that strange feeling in his chest for a moment longer, and then the hand dropped from his shoulder and everything came slamming back into him at once. It was like being hit by a goddamn bus, he thought, the way that rage burned through him again. Maybe it was impossible to understand how angry you really were until someone took it away for just a moment.

It seemed bigger now, somehow. Like it was making up for those few precious seconds of lost time, like it was voicing its protest that it had been momentarily silenced. Emilio let it surge him forward, grabbed the vampire who was still clutching its nose where it had been punched. He slammed it back into the wall, shoving his stake against its chest. He took a moment to meet its eye, to make sure it knew exactly what was going to happen next. And then, when that realization settled, he drove the stake home and spread dust across the floor.

His chest heaved for a moment as it settled, discomfort still clinging to him. Whatever had just happened, he hated the momentary loss of control it had wrought. He turned back to the faun, whose glamour was back in place now, and took a step forward, still gripping the stake. “What the fuck did you just do to me?”

—

Mask back in place, both physically and emotionally, the fact that he very easily could have ended up dead on this disgusting floor getting glazed over, Kieran watched the vampire meet its end. A talented hunter, quick and ruthless, piquing his interest. He hadn’t met one of those before, only heard about the different kinds and mostly of wardens, of course. Probably would have been sensible to be wary of all of them but at least Kieran didn’t have to worry about his influence being useless here. It had worked like a charm. 

He was frowning at the blood that now stained his shirt, not too obvious against the dark material but still, when a pair of very angry eyes turned to him. Kieran raised both hands, head cocked to the side as a confused sort of laugh left him. “Easy, killer. Just made you a bit more… malleable for a second. No harm done.” It was true, there had been no intention of feeding on the hunter. Although he could. Even without that, he could imagine a few other ways the hunter might be a decent replacement for the pile of dust. “Definitely looks like you could do with a night of fun, though. Very tense.” 

Would he have iron on his person or just the wooden weapons? Not that getting stabbed with those seemed like fun, either, Kieran’s gaze flitting to the stake held in a very tight grip. “Is that really necessary? A giant splinter isn’t exactly the kind of prodding I had in mind for tonight.”

—

The faun raised his hands in sign of surrender, though Emilio didn’t lower the stake. It wasn’t the ideal weapon in this situation — one of the iron knives Rhett had gifted him would be far better, though the thought of his brother did little to ease his fury — but putting the stake away long enough to grab something else would leave him momentarily unarmed, and that wasn’t something Emilio wanted. There was already an imbalance of power here; all the faun had to do was touch him to lower his inhibitions, from what he could tell. He wished Rhett had given him a little more to go off of with this particular subspecies of fae, or that he’d asked Bridie more questions when she was around. He felt a little like flying blind here, and that was one of his least favorite ways to be. 

“I do not want to be made more malla — malley — that.” Frustration with the situation caused his grasp on the language to slip a little, which only served to frustrate him further. It was stupid, the way his heart was pounding, the way paranoia crawled up his spine and gripped his throat. He’d just saved this guy’s ass; surely the faun wouldn’t turn around and kill him right away, would he? “I don’t want a night of fun. I wanted to kill a vampire, and I did that. This is fun.”

Emilio’s gaze flicked down to the stake, hesitation clear in his expression. He didn’t particularly want to drop it, didn’t want to leave himself open to an attack. But wasn’t the faun less likely to attack him if he was unarmed. “I think I’ll keep it,” he said, though the uncertainty bled through. He didn’t know what the right move was, and he hated that. He hated the mountain of questions that came with being the sort of hunter who refused to attack first and ask questions never. It had been so much simpler before.

—

Kieran wasn’t used to being the cause of this kind of nervousness. The shy, ‘what’s about to happen’ kind, sure but the hunter was on a very different kind of an edge. Had he not seen Kieran throw a single punch and immediately regret it? Yeah, he wasn’t completely harmless but he also wasn’t dangerous. Reckless sometimes, for sure, but he didn’t seek out hurting people. That was literally the opposite of his whole deal. The hunter fumbled over his words for a moment and Kieran really did try to hide the smirk that threatened to break loose. So, scruffy and a bit murdery, yet also kind of adorable. “Alright, alright, message received. Cálmate.” 

The tense delivery of this being fun, this being a quick and dirty murder of a vampire, didn’t quite convince the faun. Not only because this man looked about ready to snap from tension but because Kieran could tell. If this man’s euphoria were to be the only thing standing between Kieran and starvation, the road to being skin and bones would be quick. “Whatever you say, handsome. Look, I’d rather not spend my whole night here in this standoff, even if you’re easy on the eyes, so how about this. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Kieran didn’t like deals or any sort of binding, really. They were way too big of a commitment and came with actual consequences if broken, which was a shit deal. So he rarely bothered with them, far removed from the types of fae that used every wrong word, every thank you as an opportunity to bind someone. But now seemed as good a time as any, his spoken promise holding a heavy inflection and he kinda prayed that this hunter at least knew enough about fae to realize that those weren’t just empty words. “Do you accept?”

—

The use of his native tongue did little to ease the tension in Emilio’s shoulders. Normally, knowing that someone spoke Spanish felt like a salve on a wound, serving to offer up some relief. But right now, he was on edge. The lapse of control had been so momentary, so fleeting, but it still had his heart in his throat. Emilio was someone who needed to be in control at all times. He needed at least the illusion of freedom, at least some imagining of it. No harm had been done by the faun’s hand on his shoulder, but knowing what he was capable of? Knowing what could be done if this stranger changed his mind? It wasn’t something he enjoyed.

The promise, though, did offer some kind of lifeline. Emilio was more familiar with fae binds than he wanted to be. He thought of Siobhan in that factory, with Rhett half dead on the floor. The way he’d begged a promise of his brother’s safety from her and still felt as if he’d lost something in the end. He couldn’t recount that promise aloud, couldn’t speak anything about what had happened in that damned concrete room, but he remembered how it felt. Like a chain around his throat. Did it feel the same for fae, when they were the ones bound? Either way, he knew it wasn’t a thing that could be broken. So he nodded, practically snatching the promise from the air.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, breathing a quiet sigh. “All right. I accept, or whatever.” With the firm reassurance that he wouldn’t be hurt, he lowered the stake. “You’d better not do that — that other shit on me, either, though. I don’t want that.” If he felt euphoria, he wanted it to be his own. Not something forced upon him by some stranger; that would only leave him aching all the more when it was gone.

—

“Great.” Kieran clapped his hands together before frowning, remembering grimly that his hands were covered in blood from where they’d pressed against his neck. Gross. The slayer was mumbling some complaints as Kieran shrugged off his blood stained shirt, mournfully wiping his hands with it. It had been a top ten favorite and was now the equivalent of a dirty towel. At least he’d gone with layers tonight, left an undershirt, sheer as it was. “Hmm? Oh, you hate positive feelings? Understood.” No way was he binding himself to that. Not just because if anyone needed a night of lowered inhibitions, it was mister stab-happy, but also as a method of protection. He still didn’t know if the slayer had any iron on him. For now though, he’d keep his hands to himself. 

At least until this man’s stake was no longer needed, then all bets were off. 

“Alright, I’m buying you a drink. Not here, obviously, kinda wanna spend the rest of my evening as the sexy type of snack and this just feels like it’s sending the wrong message.” Kieran gestured to the wounds on the crook of his neck, no longer bleeding but not exactly subtle. Fuck, he was going to have to totally rethink his wardrobe for the next few weeks. It was much easier to be pissed about that than dwelling for too long on the whole ‘almost getting killed’ part. With a final, seething glare at the pile of dust, Kieran moved to open the door for the slayer. “After you, handsome.”

—

Emilio rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw so tightly that it ached a little. He didn’t miss the fact that this stipulation didn’t receive a promise to bind the faun to it. It wasn’t something he liked, but he figured he shouldn’t be surprised. The fact that he’d gotten one promise out of the guy was shocking enough — he knew better than to expect a second. Rhett always used to say that fae would do just about anything to avoid getting into binds that didn’t suit them, and this one would certainly offer the faun no benefit. Still, Emilio felt uneasy. He had no desire to be struck again by the manufactured lightness the fae was capable of filling him with. “Yeah,” he replied flatly, “you caught me. So you try that shit on me again, and I’ll shove it down your throat.” 

Part of him wanted to make a quick exit just to avoid the possibility of the faun using his abilities again, but… Emilio had never been one to turn down a free drink. He was especially fond of the idea of leaving this particular bar and, in spite of his annoyance towards the faun, thought it was a good idea for him to get out of here, too. With the blood drying at his neck, he was practically ringing a damn dinner bell. “Great,” he agreed. “You can buy me three drinks. I saved your fucking life, you know.” He rolled his eyes at the open door, ducking out anyway… but not before he slipped the stake back into his pocket. He kept his hand on it, kept it ready, but he knew it wasn’t exactly a great idea to march through a bar full of vampires with a stake on full display. Nothing said, ‘Eat me, I’m a slayer!’ quite like that, after all. 

—

“Oh, is that a promise?” Kieran shot back with a smirk, completely unphased by the threat. Probably should have been just a tiny bit phased but escaping certain death and being in handsome company, grumpy as it was, had him in a good mood. It only got better when he didn’t have to fight the hunter on the offered drinks, beaming as he followed him back out into the crowd. “But of course. I’ll be sure to properly make it up to you.”

Once they were free from the suspicious and, let’s face it, greedy stares inside the bar, Kieran sighed happily. It was still a bit chilly out and he hadn’t exactly been dressed for the cold before but he was used to it. What was he going to do, wear a giant parka all winter? No thank you. “That one looks like it serves alcohol,” Kieran stated plainly, giving Emilio a quick pat on the back as he passed him, nothing more. At least he could give the illusion that his presence wasn’t a threat to whatever reason this man had for disliking the blissfulness of lowered inhibitions. 

“So, dear savior, what do I call you?” he asked as he once again held a door open for Emilio, letting the music from inside spill out into the street. “I’m Kieran,” he added, trailing the hunter inside to free seats. One thing you had to love about this town, the clientele barely spared the remains of dried blood on his skin a second glance. “What’s your poison, then? I’m definitely not getting red wine enthusiast from you.”

—-

“No,” Emilio replied flatly, not wanting to entertain the idea of making promises to a fae even if they were ones like this. Rhett had warned him against this sort of thing; if the faun felt petty enough to bind him to something like this, it probably wouldn’t end well. He doubted that would happen, of course — the faun likely wouldn’t want Emilio shoving something down his throat in actuality — but he’d learned that it was better to be safe than sorry in a town like this one. Still, he couldn’t help the brief huff of amusement. “Is that a promise?” Two could play at whatever stupid game the guy had going on.

As they stepped out of the bar full of hungry vampires, Emilio did relax a little. Not much, not an amount that was even terribly noticeable, but he was far more comfortable far away from a crowd of people who’d probably like to eat him. He glanced up at the building the faun motioned to, nodding his head. “They do,” he confirmed. It was unsurprising to anyone who knew him or his habits that Emilio knew every place in Wicked’s Rest that served alcohol… and every place that would still serve it to him. This particular establishment was on both lists. 

He couldn’t help but tense a little as the faun touched him, but there was none of the quiet, artificial warmth that had come with the previous use of his abilities. Still, Emilio couldn’t help but eye him warily as he stepped through the door and made his way to an empty table. “Emilio,” he replied, offering no last name. He doubted Cortez and hunter would ring any alarm bells for a faun the way it might for someone of the undead variety, but it was better not to risk it. “Whiskey. If you’re buying, make it expensive.” He couldn’t taste the difference, but he liked being inconvenient. 

—

It was never really a surprise when Kieran managed to switch someone’s mood, even without a little something extra, but it was always a nice rush of satisfaction. The sound that was almost a laugh was still sarcastic and tense but seeing as the man had been pointing a weapon at him just minutes earlier, Kieran considered it a roaring success. “Don’t get greedy, you already got one promise more than most people get,” he chided playfully. Generally reckless, yes, but not when it came to words. The hunter was cute but no one deserved the privilege of an open promise over Kieran. 

“Emilio.” Kieran tried the name out - it suited the man. “I can’t believe I strike you as someone who would buy anything cheap,” he huffed without any real offense being taken. Emilio conversely didn’t strike him as someone who’d know the difference between a cotton blend suit from Primark and a 10K masterpiece from Sartorio. He was off for the bar before Emilio could come up with what was probably a snide retort, returning with a whiskey and cuba libre for himself. Sugar felt like a decent idea after a bit of blood loss, right? 

“So, never allowed yourself the pleasure of a fun night out with a faun, huh?” Kieran dove right in, quite curious about the hunter’s extreme reaction to those few seconds back at the other bar. Emilio hadn’t looked too taken back by antlers and hooves so clearly not a novice but apparently very shook by Kieran’s special touch. 

—

“I did save your life. I’d think that’d get me some special treatment. You’d be drained in the back room of that bar right now if not for me.” It was probably more blunt than what most people would prefer, but Emilio had never quite been taught to handle near death experiences with care. The seriousness with which he handled the actual death of people around him, particularly strangers, was something his mother had seen as generally distasteful. If he’d treated situations where he – and the people around him – walked away with a similar gravity… Well, he’d probably be worse off in the head than he already was. And that was probably saying something. 

He nodded as the faun repeated his name, quirking a brow at his apparent offense to being mistaken for someone who might buy something cheap. “I don’t take you for anything but a guy who has trouble keeping his blood in his body,” he replied flatly. “Don’t know you well enough to think much else.” It wasn’t entirely true; Emilio was wary of the faun, though Emilio was wary of most people. He’d have been keeping a suspicious eye on the faun even if the guy hadn’t sent him into that momentary bliss in the backroom, would have been tense with the prospect of hanging out with a stranger even with nothing else to it. But he still would have said yes to the drink. Emilio wasn’t a man who turned down free alcohol often.

He took the whiskey and brought it up to his mouth, taking a careful sip. When he confirmed there was nothing suspicious about it, he took a larger one before setting the glass down with a shrug. “Had plenty of fun with a faun before,” he replied, “but she didn’t use that on me.” He figured Bridie had known better than to try it, given how they met. 

—

“Deals are not my preferred form of special treatment,” Kieran explained simply, sly tone of voice making the nature of the alternative form in question quite clear. Although he felt he had been quite clear so far - either the hunter was very dense or not interested. Kieran wasn’t swayed that easily, though, at least not without a flat out ‘no’. Accepting a drink seemed indicative of some interest, it couldn’t be that the guy just wanted a free drink. Sure, booze wasn’t super cheap but still, no one could be that desperate just for the sake of a drink or two. 

Kieran couldn’t help a soft laugh as the drink was regarded warily, reminded of a skittish animal surveying their surroundings before feeding. Humming thoughtfully as Emilio explained his very limited experience with fauns, Kieran took a sip of his own before leaning in. He kept his arms folded on the table but a smile did creep onto his face. “So you’re not sure I need to be touching you to do… that?” He was already exuding his influence before the sentence was completed, unwilling to let Emilio bolt just yet, head cocking to the side. “I think you should relax,” Kieran suggested but it was far more of a command, even if his voice was low and devoid of threat - tantalizing, almost. “Tell me a bit more about yourself.”

—

“I’m not really available for what I figure is your preferred form of special treatment,” Emilio replied flatly. He and Teddy had never really talked about whether or not they were exclusively sleeping with one another, but Emilio hadn’t had much interest in sleeping with anyone else since they’d shared the nature of their feelings with one another. He had no issue with sleeping around when he was single, but when he committed, he tended to commit. Absently, his thumb rubbed against the wedding band on his finger. It was possible, he thought, that he committed a little too hard sometimes.

The faun leaned forward, and Emilio tensed immediately. The moment the question was out, paranoia slipped into his mind… only to be pushed out by the faun’s influence. His shoulders relaxed as Kieran ‘suggested’ he do so. His nostrils flared as he attempted to resist the influence, though he had no real means to do so. He felt stupid for agreeing to the drink, even if the faun had promised not to ‘hurt’ him. The two of them, it seemed, had different ideas of what that must have meant. “From Mexico,” he bit out, unable to avoid following the command even if he tried to make sure he was giving away as little as possible. It was a vague instruction, after all. He didn’t have to say much to follow it. 

—

The futile struggle was endearing - clearly, Emilio had only stuck to his preferred type of hunting. Maybe after tonight he’d do a bit of practicing and really, wasn’t Kieran technically doing him a favour? Even without the promise hanging over him, Kieran would never have intentionally hurt the hunter but he knew other faun had no qualms about messing with hunters. Well, messing with them more than Kieran currently was. “You don’t say,” he chuckled, Emilio’s accent having made that glaringly obvious from the get go. “Not exactly riveting information but that’s fine. So, off the menu, you said? Bit dull but kudos, or whatever.”

Reaching out to straighten Emilio’s jacket, Kieran leaned back with a grin. “Nevertheless, you deserve a fun night out and I would have you join me without any outside influence, I really would, but it seems you literally don’t know how. I’ll even try to refrain from a snack as appreciation for your rescue.” He really didn’t want to be roped into a promise of not feeding, that was a hard one to keep. “Alright, finish your drink because this place is definitely not a vibe. Salud.” He raised his glass before downing the drink, waiting for Emilio to finish his. 

There was in no way a fully formed plan in motion other than seeing if this hunter was actually capable of letting loose. With a little help, of course. Was it a bad idea? Almost certainly but Kieran had never had a hunter before and it was all just a bit too enticing, even if a proper end to the evening seemed to be off the table. “You look like you definitely don’t know how to dance. Alright, let’s go.” Looping his arm around Emilio’s, cranking up the hypnosis for good measure, Kieran led the hunter out in search of somewhere that actually played music. 

—-

In another situation, there might have been something funny about it. The rage that was a constant presence in Emilio’s gut was muted now, dulled with the faun’s influence, but the situation was one that would have normally made him immeasurably angry. Later, when he was home and away from the influence — assuming he would get home and away from the influence, assuming the faun wasn’t planning on locking him in a fucking basement or something — the rage would return. He would be furious, he would shake and tremble with it, he would pretend it wasn’t covering up the feeling of helplessness that lurked just beneath it. That was what really bothered him about the situation. His feelings were meant to be his own now. It had taken him a long time to learn how to live without his mother’s attempts to dictate his emotions, but lately, he’d learned to lean on that independence. If it was all he had, he’d make the most of it.

But he didn’t have it now.

His nostrils flared again as the faun ‘congratulated’ him on his relationship, though there was some relief in the fact that he didn’t push for details. Revealing anything about Teddy and his feelings for them in a situation like this one would feel like a betrayal, not just to the person he loved but to their privacy, too. And Teddy didn’t value that the same way Emilio did, he knew that. Teddy was more open, but that didn’t mean they deserved to have things about their private life spouted to a stranger whose intentions might not have been good. 

The faun reached out, touched his jacket, and Emilio somehow managed to stiffen even more than he already had. He didn’t particularly enjoy being touched, especially not like this, when he couldn’t lash out. “Maybe my idea of a fun night out just isn’t the same as yours,” he pointed out, some attempt to earn his freedom. Or at least disinterest. If the faun lost interest in him, he’d probably just cut him loose. His jaw tensed as he was ordered to finish his drink, the influence swirling through him making it impossible to really resist. He could, however, make it a pain in the ass. He’d never been one to slowly nurse an alcoholic beverage, but he took small sips now, trying to draw out the only portion of the evening he could find comfort in.

But, of course, nothing could last forever. Too soon, the faun was circling around to touch him again, the influence growing stronger and a little overwhelming. The anger swirling in his chest dulled further, even as he tried to cling to it. “I have a bad leg,” he said, forcing the words out. They didn’t want to leave his tongue. Nothing beyond complete agreement with what the faun wanted felt right, but Emilio was stubborn. It had never been a positive thing before now. “It will hurt.”

—

“Well, we’re not killing any more vampires tonight so through the process of elimination, we will have a good night one way or another.” Letting Emilio run along now would have been the smart thing to do. Definitely not the interesting thing and Kieran was curious. Was it possible that there wasn’t a sliver of enjoyment to be found somewhere deep down under the badly dressed and poorly shaven facade? No, there had to be something. There was always something. Clearly not in the same things Kieran enjoyed but didn’t that make the whole thing even more curious? 

Rolling his eyes at the complaint, even as the word hurt struck a chord. He had promised not to hurt the slayer. How far would that extend? Stupid fae promises and their loose terms. “You’ll just have to stick to hand stuff then, won’t you?” Even as he said it, Kieran knew that dancing was far from the ultimate goal. It was an option, if only to see how much the hunter would loathe it, but this new idea of actually trying to find something the man enjoyed, if only to prove some point… 

“Actually, change of plans. We’re going to need more booze first…”

[elkian]

Thinking about the timing of Glass Onion and losing it like

(Below: Big Spoilers for Glass Onion. Like, end-of-the-movie big spoilers. Open at own risk.)

Okay, it’s set in 2020. I don’t remember if a year even came up for the first Knives Out, but it didn’t matter much either.

So we’re set a few months into the Pandemic. This is a great character establishing setting that I’ll get into in a sec. But pretty fast into the movie, this becomes a non-issue.

I didn’t think much about it until after the movie, but it is actually important that Glass Onion is set during Covid. Why?

Okay, back to square one: Character establishment. We open on our colorful cast of people Zoom Meeting-ing for work (Lionel, Claire), streaming for an audience (Duke, Whiskey, technically Claire), and Birdie holding a party of a solid 30+ people, all unmasked, all crammed into a tiny room with a fucking fire dancer guy wandering around to predictable results*.

*(! Just realized something! We’ll come back to this.)

And then we go to Blanc, our intrepid hero?, and he is sitting in his goddamn bathtub playing Among Us with a bunch of pals online. We can see the stacks of books and other entertainment he’s gone through during this time as the scene pans out. His husband is baking.

This is important not only as a change of tone (beyond Ms. Brand’s short intro), but marks Blanc as being very much the everyman character in comparison. This is, for people who didn’t live through the hell of being an “”essential worker”“, a fairly relatable experience.

Then we get to the dock and we get an absolutely fantastic character establishment setup Again, with Blanc in his fitted, functional mask, Lionel and Peg in their medical masks of different calibers, Claire in a cloth mask that she doesn’t quite pull up right, Birdie in her fucking glamor net, and Duke and Whiskey in no masks at all and being equally careless with everyone else’s health.

And then we get the employee rolling up with the mystery gun that, apparently, just makes people immune to Covid in one shot?

This is useful for the following flow of the movie, where the pandemic is a sidenote at best, but it’s also a crucial establishing shot in a very different way:

Miles Bron is a fucking jackass.

2-3 months into what will be an incredibly deadly pandemic and he just happens to roll up with a blatant perfect Covid vaccine (or implied to be, given how the movie goes I think they should fuckin worry about that! Also Blanc being the only one bothering to ask what it is in the first place!!). A perfect vaccine for his buddies, and no one else.

This dude could, if this shot actually does what’s implied, cure the global pandemic on at least some level and this plot point never comes up again for the rest of the movie.

This is an incredible character establishment, and what with the Red Death setup, the puzzle box, and Brand’s response thereof, we actually get a pretty comprehensive character profile of Miles Bron before he ever appears on screen. An entitled, selfish asshole who cares only about entertaining himself (in the company of people he knows only care about him for his money, and later we find out he knows that they can, and will, stab a friend in the back for that cash), even though he clearly has the resources to help others.

The last mention we get of the pandemic in any way (chronologically, it does come up in the flashback) is his comment about why he apparently has the Mona Goddamn Lisa in his living room.

The Louvre has no tourists and France apparently needed a loan, so he gets the ML for collateral*.

*There’s a post going around about how the Mona Lisa is not painted on canvas, but Bron’s copy is, so he probably got a print rather than the real deal.

This is the point at the movie where the Pandemic setting appears to fade out. It gets to the point where I was wondering if we really needed to set this in 2020/during Covid specifically.

But you know what?

Our movie (big spoilers) ends with the destruction of said Mona Goddamn Lisa, by dint of Elon Musk’s Miles Bron’s egotistical idiocy. The pieces are all laid out neatly, we can see it coming to an extent (I got slightly spoiled by Tumblr posts so I can’t say for sure).

Bron is going to lose every investor, every cent in his stocks, every deal he ever cut, everyone who ever thought he was cool, because he fucked up this badly. Because his wonder fuel was exactly as unstable and deadly as everyone had been warning him for months if not years.

And it torched the Mona Lisa.

The Mona Lisa he had, that (if it were the real deal) would not have been missed immediately, because there was no one in the Louvre.

Because there’s a pandemic just getting started.

The way these movies tie everything up in a bow, foreshadow the end and reference the beginning so neatly, is just amazing to watch.

(Also I just here realized that Birdie’s party with its blatant fire hazard ending predictably is foreshadowing for the exact same thing to happen to Bron because they’re both incautious egotists wow!)

[buck-yyyy]

what are your thoughts on nancy and her ships? (j*ncy, st*ncy, r*nance, anyone really)

oooooh!!! anon ily because i have many thoughts

1. jancy

right. so i have mixed feelings about jancy. i understand the appeal, but i also think it’s a tad bit overrated.

i really love their dynamic! they work really well together and i absolutely adore them in both season one and especially two.

season three is where it gets a bit iffy for me. i really appreciate the newspaper storyline, the miscommunication in terms of jonathan’s need for the job because he needs to support his family versus the constant disrespect and embarrassment that nancy faces as a woman in journalism. both sides of that disagreement were completely valid, and neither of them were strictly correct. but i have quite a few issues with the resolution of that storyline.

i love nancy, i really do, but i also love jonathan- and i don’t care for the fact that they had him completely abandon his side of the argument, just because she was right. her being right about the rats doesn’t erase the fact that jonathan needed that job, and that nancy was the reason he lost it. i wish they could have both conceded that neither of them were right or wrong in the argument, rather that they were both being nearsighted towards the struggles the other was actively facing.

i feel like in season three, a lot of jonathan’s character was shelved simply to give nancy her girlboss moment, which i really don’t like. i wish they could have balanced that girl power moment with her recognizing her own faults.

then, in season four, the fact that jonathan is actively lying to nancy rubs me the wrong way for their relationship. don’t get me wrong, i understand why he’s doing it! it’s a completely understandable point of view. but it’s leaving me slightly skeptical about the state of their relationship in season five, because nancy thinks their problems have been resolved at the end of the season, meanwhile jonathan still knows that they’re not going to the same college, and that when nancy finds out it’s really going to hurt her.

2. stancy

alright unpopular opinion time- i love stancy. i love stancy so goddamn much.

HOWEVER

stancy died in season 2, and it should stay dead. so much of steve’s personal character arc in season 3 was about getting over nancy, about falling for robin (which obviously didn’t work out), and that plot line really ties into the whole ‘forced conformity’ themes that make stranger things the show it is.

season three was about steve coming to terms with his fading popularity and the fact that real life isn’t like the glamorized version of high school he experienced- and a big part of that was him developing feelings for robin, the dorky band kid, who turns out to be a lesbian, which also plays into steve’s character arc, because of the juxtaposition between s1 steve, who called jonathan a queer, versus s3 steve, who was fully supportive and understanding towards robin.

i think that bringing back steve’s feelings for nancy completely erases all of that development, which is really disappointing.

i understand that first love is a big deal, and that it never really goes away, whether that be the pain of losing it or the feelings themselves. trust me. i know, firsthand. but the fact is that this is a tv show with character arcs- and it’s not fun to see those characters regress back into who they are.

i think that the main reason they chose to do that with stancy in s4 is because as of s3, steve’s character arc was completed. there wasn’t really anywhere else for him to go- which leads to an awkward plot line, because it’s really difficult to come up with something new for an entire season when the plan for that character has been run through. (this is part of the reason i think steve is gonna die in s5. rip steve 😔)

3. ronance

ronance is beautiful, stunning, perfect, i absolutely adore it. the only thing i dislike is that nancy never really apologized for how she treated robin, even after robin chose to be vulnerable and talk about her struggles with social cues as an attempt at a sort of peace treaty with nancy, which nancy completely rejected until robin found the thing about victor creel. but really, that’s just a minor bump, i love romance with my whole entire heart.

also ronance shippers are hot. love y’all.

anyways, yeah. my thoughts on all of nancy’s ships, LMAO

[therealvinelle]

Hi! What do you think would have happened if in New Moon,Bella moves to Florida and Victoria is killed by some rando gifted vamp while in the South( gifted coz to counteract her evasion thingy) and Bella like doesn't completely move on or anything but still gets better with time and then Edward comes back a couple years later and Bella is supposed to be happy but she's like very confused about it and kind of creeped out by the age difference since Edward is still very much seventeen. Sorry for the rambling, I just wanna know how will this adult Bella interact with Edward &Co. Is Bella/Carlisle a possibilty here if Edward goes ballisticmus and has a visit to strop central coz Bella's not vair interested anymore ? Happy ending please. (i.e, no eating/mercy killing- you always do that, it's not very nice)

I think, anon, that it sounds like you should just write this fic.

And I feel the need to point out that Victoria already had a vampire counteract her gift, his name was James. Victoria’s gift lets her know when and where to flee, James’ gift lets him know where to find his prey. Their horrifying love story is that he hunted her (in case anyone needed further proof this guy is a goddamn psycho: he decided to hunt this random woman who didn’t even have blood he could drink, just for the sake of killing her.) but never could get his hands on her. In the end, he became intrigued by this woman who kept evading him. Sensing that she wasn’t in as much danger anymore, Victoria slowed down, and they became an item.

Point being, your rando gifted vamp will need more than to just counteract her gift if he wants to kill Victoria.

But let’s assume Victoria���s not a problem because reasons. Maybe she ran into dimension portal vampire, and he put her in the shrimp dimension. She’s surrounded by an awful lot of shrimp which I hope is therapeutic for her, and more importantly she is now very much out of the picture.

Bella, meanwhile, didn’t move to Florida because she was able to convince her father she was getting better. Charlie has to lose his faith in her if he is to send her away.

Which could be easily enough accomplished, he just has to hear about what she did in Port Angeles with Jessica.

So alright, Victoria’s in the shrimp dimension and Bella is in Florida.

I happen to agree with you, I think Bella would get better albeit not bounce back entirely. At least, not given such a short timeframe. Her zombie mode wasn’t just because Edward left, it was because he ground her self esteem and identity to dust beneath his heel and took away the world he’d brought her, the future he’d let her imagine.

Old Bella has gone out for cigarettes, and she isn’t coming back anytime soon. (A sentence best read if you imagine it’s Jensen Ackles narrating.)

It is this Bella that Edward returns to. You specify a couple years later, which makes her 20. She’s a college girl, living in a dorm and more likely than not working on the side. The hole in her chest is still there, she still has nightmares, and she still can’t bear to even think his name, but she is making do.

Then one night he wakes her up.

She at first thinks it’s a dream, but he manages to convinceher it’s not.

He’s even more beautiful than she remembered, more perfect than any recollection could do justice.

He tells her why he left, how much he suffered, how he still loves her, the whole shebang. And Bella takes him back, though she can scarcely believe this. It’s like the Titanic unsinking, Lazarus rising, this love she thought lost, that she only had a fleeting taste of in high school, is back again.

The first few days are surreal, like stepping back inside a childhood memory. It’s a rose-tinted dream she missed like anything, and indeed Edward and the Cullens are just as glamorous and beautiful as she remembered.

But perhaps that’s the problem, that this is so unreal.

Bella isn’t going to address this of her own accord, she’s not as much as going to acknowledge that anything feels off. She has Edward back, it’s a miracle and she’s not going to rock the boat.

Even as she finds Edward is... well, he is young. I imagine it’s something she notices a bit gradually, little bits and pieces she ignores because she doesn’t want to examine them, up until one catalyst or another. There comes a point where she realizes this guy is seventeen, and she just can’t unsee that.

There’s another issue.

The Cullens left because Bella was human, now they return because... well, she’s still human.

Carlisle speaks with Edward about this, but gets nowhere. Eventually he decides to go ask Bella what her thoughts are on this.

Bella still wants to be a vampire, of course. Only she has realized that she has outgrown Edward by just a little, and now the world’s greatest timer is above her head. She can turn now, and they’ll make do with their little age difference, it might require Bella looking the other way and plying herself with just enough denial so that she doesn’t see her lover too clearly, but it can work damnit.

But if they wait, and Bella turns 21, then 22, 23...

She’ll lose Edward.

Bella tells Carlisle without further ado that she wants to be turned, ASAP.

Carlisle nods, agrees, and they agree to bring this up with Edward separately. It won’t do any good if he feels like they’re ganging up on him.

Bella goes first, informs Edward of what she wants and lets him know that Carlisle will turn her even if he refuses.

(That’s another damning sign of maturity: Bella no longer needs it to be Edward who bites her. The important thing for her is the end result, which is vampirism. Besides, this more mature version of Bella reasons, turning humans is painful to vampires so it’ll be nicer to Edward if she does it this way.)

Furious, Edward goes to confront Carlisle, who confirms it. He’s turning Bella.

And then-

Well, anon, you make it quite clear that you don’t want any eating or mercy killing.

I think we’ll say that Edward sends Bella to go to live on a farm.

[rjhpandapaws]

Hellloo Panda!! One more ask from me for your lovely 160 follower event. Could we please do the “Party” prompt for canon-verse Allen60?

I wanna read about these two getting together at a DPD houseparty. It could be one of Gavin and Tina’s frat-style ragers or it could be one of Fowler’s awkward dinner party/ wine appreciation sessions - whichever is sillier in your opinion hehehe

Thank youuuu✨✨✨

//I love this idea thank you. Also! You can send as many as you would like

Allen found himself watching Sixty quite often. At the precinct or compound he had the ruse of being his superior and he wanted to be sure Sixty didn’t break or break anything else. Now, at a New Years party for the Station there was no reason to be staring at him. Keeping an eye on him maybe, he had a penchant for getting into trouble and he and Gavin liked to fight, but not staring, not like this. Allen didn’t know Sixty’s thoughts on the matter, but liked to consider them friends. They talked often, and while Sixty’s mind tended to focus on work he would indulge Allen in other conversations as well. It was nice. It didn’t explain the staring though. The one thing he could find to blame it on was the change. He was used to seeing Sixty in his Kevlar or his work blacks. He had never seen him in a suit it was unusual. That wasn’t to say that Sixty wasn’t usually put together. Honestly he almost always was. He was the only person who would come out of a raid without a hair out of place; which he supposed was easy when your hair wasn’t much more than a projection. It was just odd to see him trying Allen supposed. Sixty did what made sense, as all androids tended to do he supposed, and usually that meant staying in his work blacks. When the announcement had said work attire was allowed, Allen had been expecting to see him in those, not a full three piece.

The worst of it though was he had been talking with Jeff, he was the host after all, and then had just stopped dead when Sixty had come in and now he was only half paying attention to what was being said. They had gotten work talk out of the way so he was mostly coasting by on small talk, which probably wasn’t a good plan in the long run. He pulled his eyes away from Sixty and turned his attention back to Jeff; he was not inclined to express how much effort that took; only to find his fellow captain looking at him with a knowing expression. “Your neck would probably have a better night if you went over and actually talked to him you know.” He remarked dryly. “Try as you might, its pretty clear he’s a favorite of yours. Tonight isn’t so much a work function as a social one, talking to him won’t hurt anything. “Jeff, I can’t.” Allen protested, “This is different then at the compound. If he’s branching out finally it would be rude to but in.” “Do it or I will. There are three androids in a building with Gavin, how do you think tonight is going to go?” Jeff said dryly, “I would like it better if one of the events wasn’t a goddamn fist fight.” “So you want me to make a fool of myself to break the tension?” Allen pressed.

“I want you to talk to your friend and maybe circumvent a fight in the process.” Jeff replied, “I never said you had to be honest with him. What you tell him is your business not mine.” “Very helpful Jeff.” Allen remarked, “What I am going to do instead is go outside and have a smoke.” “I thought you quit.” Jeff said as Allen turned for the back deck. “I’m trying to, but it comes and goes.” Allen replied before he stepped outside. He lit his cigarette and leaned back against the house and took a drag as he looked out into the yard. He thought about talking to Sixty, but he didn’t know what to talk about outside of work. Their two weeks always matched up and he didn’t know what Sixty did outside of work, if he did anything at all. It was odd to consider them close without knowing much about him, but someone could only save your life so many times before you felt something, be it a connection or awe. Allen’s issue was that he didn’t know which he was feeling. He knew he enjoyed Sixty’s company, but he didn’t know if it was out of respect or because he liked him on some level more than he should of. At risk of sounding like the android consuming his thoughts, there was just too much unaccounted for to come to a conclusion. Why was it the suit instead of his work blacks that had him questioning this? Was it even the suit, or had that just been the tipping point? He didn’t have answers to any of those and it was infuriating. He should be enjoying the party, not overthinking this, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside without some kind of answer to his question.

“So this is where you wandered off to.” Allen startled at the sound of Sixty’s voice. He and Connor sounded very similar, Sixty’s voice just had more of a sarcastic lilt to it than Connor’s did. “I was looking for you.” “The crowd was getting to me and a needed to step out for a bit.” Allen lied, well it wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “Captain Fowler said you wanted to talk to me about something?” Sixty continued and Allen wanted to back in there and start a fight himself. “Did he?” Allen took another drag from his cigarette, “And he said it was a private matter as well didn’t he.” “He did.” Sixty agreed and Allen saw him nod out of the corner of his eye, “Are we supposed to be investigating someone? Did I miss the briefing, I know I was late but I didn’t think that two minutes and fifteen sec-” “Its a personal matter Six, you didn’t miss anything.” Allen said before he could spiral out of control. “Have I done something wrong?” He sat down and Allen turned to face him letting out another puff of smoke as he did. “No Six. Jeff is just meddling like he always does.” Allen said, “Part of it is because he delights in seeing me miserable and the other part is that he doesn’t want you and Gavin getting into another fight.” Sixty laughed, “That’s fair. We broke something last time. So what’s bothering you?” “Its not so much that something is bothering me, its more that I’m stuck.” Allen elaborated, not missing the way Sixty looked him over for a moment before it dawned on him that Allen hadn’t meant it literally.

“How do you mean?” He asked, “What is it?” “I’ve been thinking about how I really don’t know anything about you outside of work.” Allen admitted, “I consider us friends, but I don’t really know all that much about you.” “There isn’t that much to know. I live at the compound and if I’m not on my two weeks I’m usually in stasis.” Sixty replied without hesitating, “Sometimes I meet up with Nine Hundred and Connor, but most of the time they would rather be with their detectives. But for what its worth I consider us friends as well.” Allen had a lot to unpack in what Sixty said, but he found himself smiling, “So you just stay at the compound? There’s nothing you would rather go do?” “Its easier if I’m there to respond if I’m needed.” Sixty replied, “Not particularly. All the Station events are for social appearances only, and a lot of your culture seems to have that air of just doing it to be observed about it, and that doesn’t interest me.” “So there’s nothing you’ve been curious about?” Allen pushed. “There are somethings, but I can usually learn them from Nine Hundred or Connor.” He replied, “Though I find there is a pleasant hum in my systems whenever you tell me about what you do on your weeks off rotation.” Allen laughed, “My life is nothing glamorous.” “But that’s exactly it. I am unable to get the same rush of survival that you do from working this job as you do so it’s nice to hear how much you enjoyed marathoning a show or catching up on a book.” Sixty explained, “I don’t have a reason to or a way to enjoy the mundane in that same sense because this job isn’t a risk to me. Its something I only get from you and its nice.”

Allen was staring and he knew it. Maybe Jeff had a point, what happened tonight didn’t have to be official. No one outside of them needed to know. He had also come to the conclusion that the suit had only been the breaking point. What he liked was Sixty, and apparently his mouth decided he needed to know that. “I love that about you, you know.” Silas looked at him for a moment, his LED blinked yellow a few times before he smiled, “You do? Here I thought it was the suit. You were staring at me all night.” Allen became aware of several things at once. One of them the blatant reminder that Silas was a top of the line android, and therefor would know if someone was staring at him. He probably heard Jeff talking to him; and perhaps Allen himself hadn’t been as subtle as he would have liked. “Humans have a tradition of kissing the person they plan to spend the year with correct?” Sixty asked, “Do you think the powers at be would be upset if we did that a little early?” “No.” Allen said with a smile, “I don’t think they will.”

@asset35-maya

(Prompt from this list)

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

New Year’s Mischief || Group Chatzy

Timing: New Year’s Eve Night Summary: Don’t trust balloons or mimes or hanyo Warnings: Sauce

The Common was alit. There was no evidence of the chaos that had befallen the Christmas market not that long ago, although a fire engine and ambulance are parked nearby. Instead, stalls were lit up in every colour imaginable, offering hot meals and hot drinks, even the occasional alcoholic drink. Sparklers and popping toys were being sold alongside glow sticks and neon jewellery. There was even a stall run by mimes which charged you three dollars to stick your hand into a strange box which may contain prizes. This was particularly popular. Further on, there were a couple men in plain brown suits at a stall with mysterious stains on it. The men were making the most incredible balloon sculptures, more detailed than any balloon sculpture had any right to be. Beside them was a sign that read “WARNING: DO NOT POP BALLOONS”. Aunt Jolene, however, who ran the brownie stall, claimed she’d popped hers and found a check for a thousand dollars in hers. It was a beautiful, lively evening, ready to ring in the new year, as if the black ocean, eye sun, sandman and all else could be left in this one. 

 Nora insisted that her and Remmy had to be the first at the Mime event. Remmy may have told Nora that it wasn't a complete mime event, but Nora wasn't hearing any of it. If anyone was going to watch the silent ball drop, it was going to be Nora. As they approached the commons, Nora was craning her neck wondering if Marie-Jeanne was going to grace them with her presence. Nora was a big fan of her. 

 Dakota had heard about what was happening at The Common through a few people at work—excited chatter between coworkers grabbing a cup of stale coffee before returning to their desks, or their offices, or their labs. Originally, she hadn’t been planning on showing up because New Year’s Eve happened to be the busiest night of year for most people at the precinct. For Dakota, the disasters usually followed a few days after, because that’s when you found the bodies. But tonight she was feeling more adventurous than she’d had in weeks—mainly due to the fact that she was bored, but she had also never been to The Common, why not check it out? So, she showed up. There was a bit of commotion concerning someone popping a balloon and finding money, but she decided to spend a bit of cash and grab a cup of hot chocolate and watch the events unfold, much like a wallflower would do. 

 Ally debated the whole day as to whether to or not she would be in attendance at the ball drop. She could’ve sat in the office all night, waiting for the calls that would inevitably come in the closer that they got to midnight, or she could get dressed up and be on call at the party. Every time she decided she wasn’t going and took off her dress she remembered what Christmas alone felt like, and she sure as hell didn’t want that again. So eventually she got herself into her car and drove to The Common. Best case scenario, she made a new friend, worst case scenario she wasted a few hours. When she arrived she walked around, looking at all the activities and nervously staying far away from the mimes, especially after what Regan had told her.

 After the kitchen incident with Nadia, Arthur really hadn't been planning to leave the house. But it was New Year's Eve, and whenever the mimes were out in force he couldn't entirely control the morbid curiosity to witness them. The issue he had presently was trying to get his wallet out to pay for a hot chocolate with one arm presently held in a sling and cast. "Ah shoot" he muttered as he dropped the wallet on the floor crouching down to grab it and glancing over to a lady who was also stood nearby. "Sorry- Could- Would you mind helping me?"

 Being first to the ball drop hadn’t been important to Remmy, but it was to Nora, and so they’d donned their nicest clothes that weren’t packed, and had headed out before the sun was even beginning to set with Nora. They noticed her looking around for someone and raised a brow. “Who are you looking for?” they asked, casting a glance around as well, seeing if they could spot anyone they recognized as well. Wondered if Luce might show, wondered if they’d want to see her, even. They rubbed the back of their head as they walked along. “What do you wanna do first? Looks like there’s some sort of carnival game stuff. Wanna check that out?

 This was the last place Kaden wanted to be. Ringing in the New Years surrounded by goddamn mimes. He was going to be at home with his dog and some wine and cheese. It was going to be simple. But no. Nor was going to steal a fucking ball from the ball drop. And he had a feeling he had to be there to either stop her or help her. He wasn’t sure which right now. Either way, he had a flask on hand. He didn’t know what he needed but he knew he needed that. When he saw Nora he waved. She could call the shots. And she was hanging out with that other hunter, Remmy. Interesting. “Hey,” he said with a nod.

 "Marie-Jeanne." Nora answered without explanation. Nora cracked her neck. It hurt after so much craning. "I gotta go steal the ball before it drops. Will you be good?" Nora asked. Nora wasn't sure Remmy would want to help. Nora had met them whilst they were working security and the conversation about thieving public displays of new year bringing. Just then Kaden showed up. "Good." Nora gave him an approving nod. She thought he'd be too chicken to show up. "Step one. Don't get seen by any mimes. Step two. Steal the ball. Got it?"

 Never having been very good at dealing with the unknown, the moment Solomon learned that they were warned to not pop the balloons, the ache to rip them all to bits was almost overwhelming. He was perched on a bench, his attention flicking between that stall and the one with the mimes and mystery box, trying to decide which one would be more satisfying to wreck. The fact that he was surrounded by people, something that would normally make him extremely antsy, was completely overshadowed by the need to reveal whatever those men in the suits were hiding. In what he thought was a sly manner (but probably wasn’t), Solomon sidled his way toward the balloon stand, still eyeballing the creations as they were whipped together at record speed and handed off to their buyers. As one of them passed hands from the artist to the commissioner, Solomon made a quick gesture with one hand, sending a couple thorns hurtling from his fingertips and bursting the thing right in the woman’s face. The delighted laugh was barely muffled as he relished the loud sound (which had been unexpected) and sudden burst of glittery bits of... whatever it was that exploded in her face. Which of course drew attention to him, so he quickly turned tail and slipped off to find more people with those balloons.

 “Steal the...ball?” Remmy asked, blinking. They looked around again, when a familiar voice piped in. It was Kaden, the guy from the cooking class that Remmy was pretty sure was another zombie. They wondered if Morgan knew him, hadn’t she mentioned him once? They smiled, waving back. “Hey-- oh,” glanced over at Nora again. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be good. Just try not to get into too much tro--” they paused, snapped their jaw shut, “never mind. Just don’t get yourself hurt, okay?” they said, sighing and shaking their head. But they were smiling. 

 Connor wasn't sure how long he was going to stay, mostly for the sake of his new companion, Nico. So far she'd seemed to be a well-adjusted and friendly dog, but he didn't want to put her in a situation that would be overwhelming, so was more than ready to head home early and have a quiet night instead. “Come on, girl,” he said, scratching behind her ear as they walked. So far, so good. He headed over to the common, looking around for someone he might recognize. 

 The celebration of the coming year was a strange, but pleasant thing. Kevin couldn’t quite recall the last year she had seen come and go. Glamor in place, she wandered about, making her way over to the stand with the mystery box. Such an enchanting idea… even if the people running it were clearly abominations. She was never one to leave much to chance, but there was a certain appeal to the surprise. Still, this was for the people of White Crest to enjoy, she was content to simply observe… at least for the moment. 

 “This is Hell. I’m dead - for real this time - and I’ve gone to Hell.” Mercy had a very deep hatred for mimes. Not humans playing at being mimes, but Mimes. Of the White Crest variety. The kind that had shot her and tried - see: very nearly succeeded - in murdering Arthur. Not to mention a slew of others. So while she waited on Arthur to come back from the hot chocolate line - Mercy had opted for beer, which she sipped thoughtfully from her perch on the back of one of the Common’s benches - she took in her surroundings, noting all the strangeness (both normal and suspicious in nature) and thinking that maybe the four knives and her pistol (for which she was properly permitted thanks much) that she currently had hidden on her person might not be enough if shit went sour. Which there was a fifty-fifty chance of. The sharp pop of a balloon caught her attention, and her gaze cut across the crowd, locking on an unfamiliar face that was quickly exiting the scene. “I’d be careful popping those,” Mercy said, hopping off her bench as the stranger passed by. “Some of them might not be so… sparkly.” 

 Savannah would have happily been at home with a bottle of wine, but she was trying, perhaps in vain, to be a little more social. Every time she went out into the world, something unexpected seemed to happen, and not all of them were welcomed. Still, anything this event and its mimes could offer had to be better than ringing in the New Year alone, right? She spotted a few people she knew, but opted to quietly observe for a while. 

 Kaden sighed deeply before bringing the flask to his lips and taking a swig. He held it out in case Nora or Remmy wanted any, too. “Lead the way.” This was a mistake. “You want to help? I feel like this is a terrible idea and could probably use more hands,” he asked Remmy. 

 If only Marley could’ve used the excuse of working the party to come, but as it were, she wasn’t allowed in the field anyway, but she sure as hell wanted to show up to what would likely be a disastrous event. If only for the free food. People around here either loved mimes or hated them, and with hate often came fear. Donning her glasses, she strolled into the Common with hands tucked in pockets, glancing around to see who else was going to show up to this place. Kept to the fringes of the crowd for now, spotting Kaden with two others, including that nuisance bugbear who kept bothering all the cops at the precinct. Solano was on the other side, idling around as awkwardly as Marley, as if trying to blend in, and over at one of the drink stations was Dakota. Marley made a mental note to stay far away from there for now. Maybe after a few shots of tequila she’d gather up enough courage to go over to her. 

 Remmy looked at the flask Kaden was holding out to them, then up to his face as he asked if they wanted to help. “Oh, uh-- n-no, that’s okay. I’ll just...I mean i guess I could keep an eye out to make sure ya’ll are good, but I’d rather not.” 

 All at once, there was a screech of violins. The college band fell silent as the mime band began to play real music, despite the apparent lack of real instruments. Even more unnervingly, the mime lead singer's lips did not move, but they sang with the exact vocal cords of the college band singer, who was clutching at his throat in distress.

 Dakota hadn’t really been paying much attention to the guy with his arm in a sling—at least not until he dropped the damned thing and she was the closest person who could help in the least bit. “Shit, yeah,” she said. Dakota did sort of feel bad for him, crouching down like that, so she kneeled and grabbed his wallet, handing it back to him. “The hell happened to you arm?”

 Nora took a large swig of the flask then grabbed Kaden by the arm to pull him behind a stall. Reaching into her coat she pulled out two berets and some face paint. "We need to get in disguise. Paint up." Nora started applying copious amounts of white face paint onto her already pale face. In retrospect, she should have brought a hand mirror. Oh well, much like this year, hindsight was 2020.

 Slowing his roll as he heard someone speaking to him, Solomon whipped around to look at the woman, offering his best innocent shrug. “I don’t know what you meeeaan!” he lied, snickering all the while. “What else could they possibly stuff in there, bees?” There was a pause, and he raised his eyebrows. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Bad for the bees, though. I gotta free them!” He sucked in an unusually energetic breath, ready to take off again in pursuit of another target, but rattled to a stop before he’d even gotten started. “... Aren!” He waved both arms when he spotted his friend just a short distance off, beckoning him over. “Aren, come help me rescue some bees!”

 Connor spotted the person with who had the giant fluffy dog that he'd seen at Nell's party, although no dog in tow this time. "Hey," he greeted. "Nice to see you again." The strange noise brought his attention over to the stage and he cocked his head curiously. "Oh. That's... normal."

 Ally heard the screech of violins and spun around to look at the band. When she heard the sound coming from the mime band she scrunched her eyebrows trying to comprehend how sound was coming from the mimes. The stall nearest to her was selling drinks, and although alcohol certainly wasn’t going to explain what she just saw, she suddenly felt like she needed a drink. She downed it and leaned toward the person nearest to her, “Is this like a performance piece or something?” She whispered. 

 Savannah spotted Marley, but she didn't want to approach her given the last encounter they'd had. Probably better to talk in a one on one environment. She saw Kaden, and a couple of people from the station, one of whom she thought she remembered was called Alejandra. "A performance piece... that's one way of putting it," Savannah said, grateful she'd already grabbed a drink. "You're new here, right?" 

 As the woman handed back his wallet Arthur smiled awkwardly as he stood up, "thanks, sorry- I'm not normally this much of a clutz."  He took the wallet back, awkwardly trying to fish a couple of dollar bills out to pay the disgruntled looking hot chocolatier. "Oh this? I was involved in an accident-" not the total truth, but near enough all things considered. Taking the bills he finally handed them over. “Sorry again- thanks.” Catching a figure waving in his periphery Arthur grinned and waved back "Hey Sol- Bees? What bees?"

 Mercy tipped an eyebrow, unable to help her own amusement. “Bees would… be preferable actually,” she said. Before she could say anything else, he was going on about freeing said bees and Mercy was… thinking her night was getting just a little bit better. This could only end in glorious chaos. But it took a slightly unexpected turn when the stranger called to someone in the crowd… and used a name had never heard anyone else use. Not in a very, very long time. “You know, Arth- Aren?” Mercy said, grabbing one of the excited stranger’s flailing limbs. “There aren’t bees…” she told him. “No bees,” she said to Arthur as he approached. Mercy took a long sip of her beer. “Not yet at least.” 

 Was he drunk or did Nora just pull out fucking berets and facepaint? “No. I’m not doing that. You can’t make me. I’ll just put up my hood or something.” Kaden tugged it up and hoped that was enough. After being striped for about a week, there was no way in fucking hell he was putting on any more goddamn facepaint. “This way,” he said quietly as he led the past a few crowds of people and around some tables and decorations. They reached a group of “performers.” He sure as shit wasn’t going to work to blend in. He made a gesture that he’d just go around, but it was too late. One of the mimes grabbed his arm and then made a gesture, pulling their finger across their throat. Uhhh. He looked to Nora for help. 

 Ally nodded in agreement with what the woman next to her said. When she asked if she was new she turned toward her. “Right, yeah, I’ve seen you around the station. I’m Ally.” She said sticking her hand out. “Do they do this every year?”

 "Savannah," she introduced herself. "Yeah, I consult on cases there sometimes. I'm FBI." Apparently the White Crest Police Department was just a bunch of attractive women and one weird Sergeant. "I wouldn't know, this is my first time here. I only came to town a little over six months ago. Still long enough to no longer be surprised by these things." 

 “The bees in the balloons!” Solomon bleated over Mercy’s attempts to stifle him, though the wind did seem to get sucked out of his sails after another brief moment of consideration. “Fine… but I still want to see what’s in them. “Yeah, yeah, we met, uh… a long time ago. Y’know.” He gave her a shrug, beaming at Arthur as he approached. “I’m breaking stuff, d’you want to help?” He glanced at Mercy, giving her a quick once over. Any friend of Aren’s was a friend of his. “You too!”

 It was the fatal error of refusing to put makeup on that caused Kaden to get grabbed and noticed by the mimes. As the mimes made a slit throat gesture to Kaden, Nora, now a true mime, made the gesture of a tear rolling down her face. Deciding she'd better do her best to help her tall friend Nora decided to speak up for Kaden. The mime sequence was intended to say "I was chasing him, and he got away, then you caught him, and now I'll kick him out." In Nora's mind, she was convinced it looked brilliant. Truly she was a mime natural but to a person who could actually perceive Nora's actions, Nora looked like a flopping dead fish. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Nora summoned an illusioned mime bear to scare the mime and pull Kaden away in that moment of shock. Nora grabbed Kaden's arm and made a run for it. 

 Wandering over to his old friend Arthur's brow pinched in confusion as he looked over the crowd and realised what Solomon was referencing. Balloons. Oh right. "You're breaking stuff? That tracks..." his smile grew a tad devious as he glanced at Mercy and back to Solomon. "Do you need help with that?" As if to emphasise the point he glanced at the nearby balloon stand where a black balloon was in the process of being placed in the extended hands of a middle-aged woman. It didn't take too much focus to warm the air around it just enough to make it explode, sliming the recipient's hands in lumpy hanyo.

 “Nice to meet you. Do all towns have a dedicated FBI agent or is it just this one on account of the…” Ally motioned to the mimes bizarre behavior. “Alright so six months until this is normal. Great. Another drink?” She suggested. She had moved across an ocean for a new start, and the new start was fucking weird. She heard a balloon pop and glanced over, watching what looked like mayonnaise cover a woman’s hands. “That’s going on the ‘not illegal but it should be’ list.”

 What a curious thing, how the music changed, seemingly stolen away from the poor child trying his best. Best not to interfere. Kevin instead busied herself, walking over to the delightful bunch of balloons. Her eyes widened as one of them suddenly popped, a delighted smile curling onto her face as she drew near the strangers at the stand. “Ah, I thought the sign said not to pop them. How strange. Do they all have that… substance inside them, do you think?”

Jared was only there to support one of the mimes in the band. He was a regular at the restaurant in town and the nymph always tried his best to mime back with enthusiasm when he was ordering. It seemed to have won him some favour when he was slipped a flier for the event in the commons, the mime silently letting him know that they were to be there. And so there he was, miming clapping along to the supposed beat of the silent band, only to swap to real clapping when the band burst into sound. 

Savannah snickered. White Crest's dedicated FBI Agent. That was a funny way of looking at things. She certainly felt like that, at times. Although she was beginning to get the feeling it wouldn't last much longer. "I came for one specific case, and found several more. Missing people, cults, a ridiculously large death toll for a town this side. What could be better?" she said, playfully sarcastic. "I like the accent," Savannah said. "England, right?" 

“No, I didn’t.” Mercy didn’t seem to know a lot of things these days. Not that she expected to know everything about Arthur’s life here in town. But if this guy knew him as Aren… then he was old like they were. He had to be. Mercy thought at least something like that would be worth her knowing. Her mind drifted off to places she didn’t want it to be, places that held nothing but self-doubt and bitterness, but her new acquaintances excitement pulled her out of it. “Oh, you don’t want my help…” she huffed, glancing between Arthur and his mysterious friend as she finished off her drink. “Unless you like fire. Lots of fire.” Another balloon popped, this time at Arthur’s bidding, and Mercy shook her head. “And people say I’m a bad influence…” Though the air around her hummed slightly, sounding ironically… like bees. 

 Kaden wasn’t sure what the hell was going to happen. Or what Nora was trying to convey in what he assumed was mime gestures. It looked like a lot of flopping around. From the looks of it, the mimes weren’t convinced. Putain de merde, this was how they died. Or became striped again. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Before any of them could reveal extra teeth or stripes under stripes, a mime bear appeared and chased the mimes. Kaden was prepared to high tail it and run the opposite direction, but the actual bugbear pulled him away. He wasn’t sure where the fuck they were running, but he kept going. Straight into Marie-Jeanne. Putain de fucking merde. 

 Kevin let her attention wander, humming along to the music. It was a pleasant sound, but it was being stolen. So very rude. Well, two could play at that game. A twist of her fingers was all she needed. As the mime band continued on, their music seemed to spread. It spilled out of the mystery box and echoed from the balloons, sounding almost as if it was trapped inside. As the melody went on, it grew stranger, louder, almost as though it were at odds with itself. Impossible instruments joined in, a few discordant voices joining into the mix. Now this was what a party was supposed to sound like. 

 Looking absolutely thrilled as Arthur joined in on the balloon-bursting fun, Solomon tut-tutted at Mercy. “Come on, it’s not often you get to cause a little mischief and not worry about repercussions. Also no, not the biggest fan of fire, but… a little seems to work just fine,” he added with a grin. Extending his hand to the woman, he figured a proper introduction was in order. “I’m Solomon, by the way. Aren and I met back in the… gods, what was it?” He glanced to Arthur, cocking his head to the side. “1700?” Then he noticed the sound around them was changing, and made a face. “The hell is that?”

 Ally sipped on the next drink she was handed, feeling a little more comfortable. “Cults?” She said, perking up. In London there had been a cult that she had suspected was actually just a clan of vampires. “I’ll have to look into that. At least it’s not boring.” She said simply, glancing back down at her drink. “Yes, yes I’m from London. And you?”

 Marie-Jeanne grinned at Nora and Kaden, swivelling her hips salaciously. Unfortunately, she saw what they were going to do and that was ever so unacceptable. She peeled one of the stripes off her body to reveal more stripes underneath. She'd gotten ever so many more stripes since the last time they'd met. With the stripe of questionable material, she tried to tie the pair of them up. 

 Witnessing all these people seeming to run a muck made Dakota truly wonder why she had moved to White Crest in the first place. Sipping her hot chocolate, she did happen to see Marley, and she promptly choked on her drink and made a bee-line in the other direction, stumbling in to someone else’s conversation. Oh, wait… She’d seen this person before. FBI agent, right? “Uh, sorry, I heard there was commotion about bees.” She looked between the FBI agent and the other person she was speaking with, whom she had not the faintest idea of a name. “Sorry to interrupt. Are you guys talking about London?” Please be a normal conversation…

 "Yeah, my colleague who worked here before he passed away was an expert in cults," Savannah said, as plainly as she might when talking about the weather. "I'm from Massachusetts," she said. "I was working at the Field Office in Boston for a few years prior to moving here. I'm sure the place will leave an impression..." She turned to the newest person who'd entered the conversation, someone from the crime lab. "Yeah," she said. "You been there?" She wrinkled her face in confusion. “Bees?”

 “London? No, no. I do know there’s like, a big clock. And a ferris wheel. And I’m not sure what I heard, but there was definitely someone shouting about bees…” Yeah, Dakota, that’s why you tried to make yourself look busy. “Have you?”

 "Big Ben and the London Eye," Savannah said, nodding. "Yeah, I went to a few places around the UK on my Honeymoon," she answered, but was quick to lift her drink to draw attention to her empty ring finger. 

 Nell had come to this event for one reason, and one reason only. To ruin as much of it as she could. The mimes thought they ruled this town, holding it under the tip of their striped thumbs, but in her mind they could stand to be brought down a few pegs or more. As she finally arrived, her eyes narrowed, nose scrunching at the cursed sound the band was emitting. Without a second thought she murmured a spell under her breath, snickering as the strings of the mime band’s violins snapped to slash back across the musicians faces in a light slap. Already in a much better mood, she made her way through the crowd looking for more opportunities to soil the mimes. 

 Ally made a mental note to ask Savannah about her colleague, interrupted by a new person in the conversation. “I mean, bees aren’t usually out in the winter. Have you seen any?” she asked, looking around. “Oh, well, I’m from there.” Ally explained. She looked at Savannah’s empty ring finger and nodded. “Ah, sorry.” she said awkwardly, unsure what to say. 

 “Oh, it’s fine,” Savannah answered. “It just means I’m single.”

 Remmy was instantly relieved when they spotted Nell across the way, and started making their way to her. Picked up a drink on the way and watched out of the corner of their eye as Kade and Nora went off to do their mime shenanigans. The screeching of the new violins were lost on Remmy’s ears, and they smiled brightly as they found their way over to Nell, waving. “Hey! Nell!” they called out, “I didn’t think you were gonna come. I thought you hated mimes?”

 Connor was grateful that someone else he knew had shown up; someone in a similar age range. It was weird when everyone around him was in their thirties or forties. "Nell!" He called, unaware of what she had just done to upset the mimes, waving her over. "Come meet Nico!" The Golden Retriever seemed all too happy to make a new friend.

 "Oh! You haven't met? Mercy this is Solomon. Solomon this is Mercy now you know one another." Arthur would've clapped, except, he couldn't so he grinned instead looking between his compatriots tonight. "Oh come on," he nudged Mercy "let's be the chaos crew." Another balloon nearby popped and a plastic necklace dropped into the hands of a pleased looking little girl.

 Dakota furrowed her brow, not exactly sure what had happened with Savannah and her ex. “Damn, was the honeymoon that bad?” she joked, then drew her attention to Ally. “Sorry, I totally butted in. I’m Dakota. And I heard London is nice. Except for when you’re having bad honeymoons, apparently.”

He heard a familiar laugh and turned to spot Remmy and Nell across the way. Jared gave a small smile to his mime pal in the band, giving them a thumbs up before heading over. Overhearing Remmy’s words he frowned, however. “Hate mimes? Why?”

Savannah rolled her eyes with a snicker. "No, the honeymoon was great. The marriage was just average," she said, shrugging. "No huge angst, no broken hearts. Just better off as acquaintances these days." 

Nora was ready to book it over to the ball to steal it when the most beautiful person Nora had ever seen stepped in front of them. Of course, Nora had seen this person before but that didn't make her appearance any less breathtaking. Nora skidded to a stop, not willing to brush past Marie-Jeanne. It was with rapt attention Nora watched as Marie-Jeanne took off one of her many stripes. It was with no quarrel that Noar let Marie-Jeanne wrap her in the stripe. It was with a weird sense of belonging that she thanks Marie-Jeanne for tying her up. "Thanks." Nora let out. Of course, that came with complete forgetfulness of having been pretending to be a mime. Nora looked expectantly to Kaden, expecting him to get tied up as well. 

 “Oh, you fucking bet I hate mimes. That’s why I came to destroy everything they love,” Nell quickly replied to Remmy, her voice bright despite the doom promised in her words. “Why are you here?” There was, without a doubt, one thing that could momentarily turn her head from her current mime mission in life, and that was one singular golden dog that was approaching with Connor. “Nico?” Nell asked excitedly, already bending to pet the pup. “Since when do you have a dog?” Then she turned to Jared, confusion and judgement plain on her features. “Jared- you know I literally despise mimes.”

 After several drinks, Marley finally felt confident enough to join the group without either accidentally feeding off someone or saying something stupid or rude. She made her way over to the group of people she recognized all together-- Savannah, Ally, Dakota. Only two out of three of them would be awkward to talk to, so that was a win. In most situations, they all would be. Grabbing another spiced eggnog, Marley headed over, pausing just short when the violins began screeching, turning to glance back over at them. Disaster one, she supposed. Opting to ignore it, she leaned against the table. “If we’re all here, who’s working the lines?”

 “A partner is usually more trouble than they’re worth, I’ve found. Except it would certainly lower my rent.” Ally offered. “Maybe one of those are looking for a roommate.” she joked, watching the mimes lose control of their violins. Another sip of her drink. “I’m Ally, nice to meet you.” she smiled. She was heading toward best case scenario territory. Even with the mimes and maybe bees. When Marley approached Ally smiled, glad to see someone she recognized. “I’m on call.” She said, tapping her earpiece. “I’ll have to arrest someone in a dress tonight, I’m sure of it.”

 Remmy felt a tad overwhelmed as the boy from Nell’s birthday party that had wanted to pet Moose came up to them as well as Jared. Nell confirmed her hated for mimes and Remmy shrugged. “I came with Nora, she was really excited to be here. I think she’s trying to con that guy Kaden into stealing the ball for the ball drop with her,” they said, looking at the other two. “You brought your dog? Are they okay with fireworks? I heard there might be some later.”

 "They are kind of weird, aren't they?" Connor said about the mimes. There was something even more unsettling about the White Crest version of mimes than the usual ones. "I adopted her right before Christmas.” He looked to Remmy. “I'm gonna leave if she gets antsy about the crowds and fireworks, and probably head away before they go off, so I can see how she is at a distance, but she's a gundog, so she might be alright." 

 Savannah shrugged, unaware of the situation with Marley and Dakota, and also not really caring. She was just happy Marley wasn't avoiding her. "I dunno, Keene, maybe?" 

 Ah so there was another witch about. How sweet. Kevin found the woman quickly, feeling the magic in the air trailing from the broken instrument to the caster in question. It was a decent spell, clever and rounded at the edges. Still, her own had already reached the music, and Kevin wasn’t particularly interested in letting others cross paths with hers. Her hand turned, hidden in her glamor. The music grew louder, horns and bells chiming in, whispers of voices in a dozen unknowable tongues joining in. All of it centered around that sweet, young caster. The musical notes began to take shape around her, turning into birds, into bubbles that popped with a scream, and all the while, the volume continued to grow.

Jared spared a bright smile for Remmy and the stranger before mumbling a soft “I hoped you’d grown out of hating mimes… We haven’t really spoken about them all that much since you got back…” He glanced back at his mime friend in the band hoping they weren’t hearing this; he’d hate to offend such a new friend like this. “They’re just trying to get along like everyone else.” 

The mention of the word partner made Marley’s skin vibrate and she nodded perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than she should’ve. “Agreed. People aren’t worth the trouble,” before shooting back another chug. “Oh, right. Agatha.” She should’ve known that, Agatha had practically tripped over herself to volunteer tonight. She was a real teacher’s pet, but for whatever reason, Marley only found the trait endearing, whereas usually she hated it. She watched Dakota back away and head off, wondering if it was because of her, frowning. She glanced at Savannah, only for a moment, before turning her eyes away. “What do you think of the band? Kinda eerie, huh?”

 “You’d be surprised,” Mercy said to Solomon, eyeing the stranger with even more curiosity. “Though it has been awhile I suppose.” Besides, Mercy’s brand of mischief might utterly ruin the mimes’ night. How could she resist? Especially as Arthur so eagerly introduced her and the stranger. “It’s an honor to meet you, Solomon,” she said, shaking hands. “But you can call me Freyja if you like. I’ve known Aren… well, forever really.” And that was the truth. Idly she wondered if she and Solomon had perhaps met in passing when she’d been in Maine herself in the early 1700s. Or if the man had known Arthur’s family. His children. But the dour thoughts passed easily as she was jostled by Arthur. She sighed in a pseudo-put upon fashion, smiling faintly as the little girl showed her necklace to her father. “You really want me to do this?” she asked, looking first at Arthur then at Solomon, who seemed a bit worried all of a sudden. 

 “Kind of weird is an understatement,” Nell replied dryly, glaring at a passing mime as if she were daring it to say, or sign something. “Steal the ball?” she asked with renewed curiosity. Surely that would be a good way to throw a wrench in the mimes’ celebration. Unfortunately Jared’s words were lost as the music swelled around her, and her skin prickled as another magic blossomed. Apparently someone wasn’t all too thrilled with her antics around the band. “I can’t hear you!” she yelled over the music towards her friends, but that didn’t matter now. If someone was upset she was messing with the band, deafening her was the wrong way to make her stop. Instead it fueled her hatred of the mimes even further, and in another moment she let her magic fly again, targeting the mime band with renewed vigor as she flipped the chairs of the first row, sending mimes tumbling.

 It was her. The mime who had given him the lapdance on his birthday. The one with too many teeth and stripes under her stripes. He tried to get away, make a run for it, but she had peeled off her stripes and was tying him up. Shit. Shit fucking shit. Of course Nora was thrilled. Kaden tried to pull his hands away, but she had a vice grip on his wrist and wasn’t letting up. Even with hunter strength it was hard to pull away. He heard strange sounds coming from the center of the Common from the band, seemingly. Like someone threw something at the musicians. “Hey, uh, this was, this is great but I gotta go.”

 Remmy glanced between Nell and Jared, wondering what was going on between them that someone would think Nell liked mimes. Anyone who knew Nell knew she hated them. It was strange to think she ever did or ever would like them. But then she was shouting and Remmy was glancing around anxiously. “Nell, are you okay?” they asked, reaching out for her, but she was already doing something else, and Remmy watched as the front row of the mime band was upturned. They winced. “Nell, was that--”

 "Kaden's here, too," Savannah said. She knew she'd spotted him talking to a goth-looking person earlier. Speaking of the band, Savannah's head turned as the front row of the orchestra seemed to all be thrown off their chairs. "The band are... interesting, but... Oh. Well, I don't think that's part of the show." 

 Quickly forgetting the bizarre sound he’d heard in favor of getting up to no good, Solomon nodded enthusiastically. This wasn’t normally his brand of activity, but something about running into such an old friend had rekindled a spark in him that had been snuffed out long ago. “Well then, Freyja, yes! We do!” He scanned the crowd for another unsuspecting guest, spotting a balloon gripped in the hands of a young boy, and grinned. “It’s easy… like this!” Letting loose another small volley of thorns, Solomon’s delight quickly turned to confusion as the balloon burst and out fell… dust? What was that? “Huh,” he grunted, a little disappointed. But then the dust was on the move, balling up in clumps as it rolled along the ground, with alarming… intelligence. “Uh oh.”

 There was a horrific clatter of musical instruments (including the ting of a strangely loud triangle). The mimes stopped all at once, helping their brethren to their feet. In unison, they turned to face Nell in particular, and frowned as one in perfect synchronisation, drawing a sad face onto theirs. There was a ripple of perfect silence across the crowd before the music started up again. Unbeknownst to Nell, changes were beginning to happen at the Vural household. Then they sat down, picked up new mime instruments and began to play once more. 

 “Single cops who spend all their time at the precinct. Aren’t we stereotypes.” Ally noticed Marley frown when Dakota disappeared and wondered if there was a story there. “Very eerie here. How do you think they’re doing it? Hidden speakers.” She said, leaning over to see if she could spot them. She noticed them get thrown off their chair. “What is happening?” she said, wondering if they should do something.

Jared whipped around to see the chairs fly and his smile vanished. “Nell what the hell! Stop that, what have they done? They haven’t done anything, stop that.” He glared at her and stomped over to help pick up the chairs. He missed the eerie stop of the music completely in his anger.

As the mimes looked to Nell in unison, she raised a single finger. A very carefully chosen finger. The most offensive finger a person could raise as she collectively flipped them the bird.

 Remmy, noticing the mimes all staring at Nell, backed away slowly, taking Connor and his dog with them. “We should...go.”

 Connor didn't need to be a genius (he definitely wasn't one) to figure out that Nell was the one messing with the band. He raised an eyebrow, chuckling as she gave them the finger. "Careful. I've heard they can be pretty dangerous." He nodded to Remmy. “Yeah, good idea,” he teased. “You’re on your own, Penelope.” Miriam had made him promise, after all, not to let the dog get into any dangerous situations.

 Nell’s finger began to develop stripes.

 Wincing, Marley took another long sip of her eggnog, watching the turmoil begin to crescendo-- pun intended. All the mimes were focusing on one single person, and Marley noticed it was the little jailbird, Nell. Chuckling, Marley relaxed little, excited to see how this might play out. She glanced over at Ally and Savannah. “Well, here’s to being single and dedicating our lives to shit like this, yeah?” she raised her glass to them both, not bothering to answer the unasked question of whether they should intervene. She wasn’t on duty, she had no obligation to act, just like with the Dullahan. Instead, she’d enjoy the show, and the free meal. She deserved it.

 Oblivious to the ensuing chaos by the bandstand, Arthur watched the strange clumps of dust rolling across the floor mildly entranced by the dust bunnies. "Huuuh, weird." As if on cue another couple of balloons popped, but this time instead of their owners suffering the repercussions he heard a pop too close for comfort and felt the wet slide of something down his face; which was now covered in a stream of white mayo. "Ewwwww- I hate mayonnaise Disgusting."

 Nell couldn’t deny that her first thought upon seeing her finger develop stripes was ‘chop it off.’ Thankfully, she did no such thing and made the very wise decision to raise her other middle finger, brandishing it as she stuck out her tongue to the mime band. “I have two, bitch!”

 Her other finger began to develop stripes. So did her tongue.

 Sam Rainsbottom grinned for a camera as he posed in front of the New Years party panorama. “Hello everyone! This is WC Student Broadcasting coming to you from the Coooomon!” Sam’s blue eyes flicked up to where the Yearbook students manning the camera switched to a new cue card. “We’d like to officially thank the Striped Club, The Quiet Place, and Your Mime and Ours, and whole Silent Thespian community for sponsoring this civic event!”

 Sam looked back at chaos of stands being tipped over “shit shit” he side shuffled and made motions with his hands for the camera to pan away to some non-destruction scenes of this New Years party.

 Marie-Jeanne giggled silently, tapping Nora's nose that developed some stripes of their own. She did not do the same to Kaden, holding him tightly as she pulled a balloon out of her pocket. Don't ask how she has pockets. Don't ask how a large balloon fit in the pocket. All Kaden and Nora needed to worry about was that the balloon was slowly expanding, getting ready to pop.

 Mercy glanced over at the ruckus from near the ‘mime band’, but since it was actual sound being made, she didn’t pay much attention. She turned back to watch Solomon send a volley of… was it thorns??... through the air and pop another balloon. “Good shot,” Mercy grinned, squinting at the balls of dust that rolled away. “Oh… it’s just some dust bunnies. Nothing to worry about.” The air hummed with chaotic energy, the brisk chill of the evening and the sounds of the crowd - barring whatever was happening with the ‘band’ - along with the contagiousness of her companions’ mischief was quickly taking over any good sense she might’ve shown. The balloon that popped nearby only got a passing glance from the Fury, though she did grimace a little at substance that coated Arthur’s face. “Are you sure it’s mayo?” she asked, scooping a bit onto her finger to taste. “Yeah… yuck. Definitely mayo. With undertones of birb.” But… with no harm done from yet another balloon, Mercy finally handed Arthur her drink. “Those were both great shots, boys…” she said of their individual balloon-popping. “Now it’s my turn…” With that, she turned and walked off into the crowd. A brush of a hand here… a tap of a finger there… and when she returned a minute or so later, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright with mischief and the effects of her power. Mercy glanced at her watch. “You wanted chaos…” It read about a minute or so til somewhere nearby a bell would toll. “You’ll get chaos…” 

 Nora giggled. Nora actually fully giggled as Marie-Jeanne tapped her nose. She might have actually giggled more if she'd known that her nose was now striped. It was like mime themed freckles. Her eyes followed the balloon, looking up at it. The roundness of the balloon reminded Nora that she was on a mission. "I'm sorry. I have something I need to do." Nora rolled to her side and started rolling towards the giant ball. Not very fast, to be fair. Definitely not fast enough to get away from the balloon. The balloon popped above her in a shower of rainbows. It was a beautiful effect. It was less beautiful as Nora noticed that her outfit went from the signature black to colorful rainbow. 

 Looking a little grossed out when the new substance appeared on Arthur’s face, Solomon only looked more aghast when Mercy tasted it. “That… could have been one hundred percent bird poop! You’re brave,” he laughed. Happy to see that she’d finally decided to join in, the leshy watched curious as she walked away, nudging Arthur gently in the side. “Cool friend you got there, Aren. She seems like fun!” His eyebrows raised again as she came back into view, and that struggle with the unknown took hold once again. “What did you do?” he gasped excitedly, eyes widening. 

 Tired of being unable to hear the voices of those surrounding her, and currently angered by the mimes audacity at stripe-ing her, Nell cast another bit of magic to disrupt whatever spell it was the other caster in the crowd had thrown at her. The music returned to its normal, albeit still disturbing volume, but at least she was no longer being taken over by sound. Unfortunately...there was no saving her fingers. In rebuttal, she magicked a few of the mimes into the opposite of her fingers...rendering them solemnly solid rather than striped. 

 Kaden tried to pull away and swore he could have made it, but it was too late. It didn’t matter. The balloon exploded and rained down color on them. Great. That was fine. Just a nice pretty balloon. And he seemed to be free to walk away. “Great. Nice seeing you again. I guess.” And while Nora rolled away, Kaden just walked around Marie-Jeanne as she blew him a kiss and headed towards the ball. He looked down briefly and noticed the color seemed to be following him. Hmm, no it was on him. He looked down at his clothes and noticed, like Nora’s they were all rainbow. He look at his hands and his fingernails were rainbow colored. With a deep dread, he sighed and leaned over to take a quick look at himself in a pane of glass nearby. He saw his hair. It, too, was rainbow colored. “Putain de merde!” he screamed. Loudly. It wasn’t Regan loud, but it was loud. He heard balloons popping in the distance. And what sounded like flesh exploding closer by. He looked to his left and black sludge was splattered across the way. 

Whilst trying to help the first row of chairs up again Jared tripped. He’d never been super sure in his step when he was wearing shoes. So, as he tripped a balloon tied off to one of the nearby benches popped. In the rain of confetti Jared blinked. And then he blinked again. His entire being was striped. But it wasn’t static. He was flashing stripes that moved up and down his body as if to the beat of the remaining music from the band. He was a disco mime.

Nell's stripes began to extend down her fingers and her arms. They extended into her clothes. She would notice that, but the more sinister change, she would not notice later tonight, once she was out of these stripey clothes. She could only speak when dressed as a mime. 

 Solomon's statement made Arthur snicker even if he was kind of disgusted by the sentiment. "That's rank, ew." But his disgust was forgotten as Mercy wandered off into the crowd attempting to roughly track her movements but she was lost for a few and so he turned back to Solomon. "She is. Like the coolest." There was a small swell of warm pride as Mercy returned and whatever she had done he knew it was bound to be great. In for a penny in for a pound, he popped another three balloons. One of which splattered a white substance on the ground into which a young boy stepped... And got stuck. "Mummy!” the boy screamed “Mummy! Help! I'm stuck!" The second balloon popped, and a rotten banana peel fell out of the sky landing on Mercy’s head with a wet squelch.

 Marie-Jeanne exploded at the sound of Kaden's yell. She would be back.

 Sam listed off more town facts and corporate sponsors as the sparkler burned in his hand. His eyes briefly strayed to the sparkler ignition. Pure white and black flames poured from the sparkler, strange umbral fire and pale fluoresce weaved together in a mydriatic dance that caused an ecliptic blur across Sam’s vision when he focused on it. 

 How..did…how could fire? That's not how light works..right?

 A cough from the camera guy brought Sam back to reality, away from questions, and unwelcome thoughts suppressed across generations. Sam grinned with a thumbs up as the mime-flame burned without a sound.

 A rainbow tear slid down Nora's face as Marie-Jeanne exploded in front of them. Nora, tied up, defeated, lay there. Was there a point to stealing the ball? This was a bad end to the year.

 Nora looked defeated. Which was probably for the best. They likely didn’t need to anger the mimes anymore. “Come on, let’s go back to the party or whatever you’d call this,” Kaden said as he tugged on Nora’s arm to lead them back to the center of the Common. As they made their way back to the center of the Common, he saw Nell. Covered in stripes. “Putain de merde, what the hell happened to you?” he said in between laughter. It was horrifying, sure. But it was also fucking hilarious. 

 The gayest bear to ever exist, covered in rainbows and stripes, followed Kaden without complaint. Not a word would come from Nora’s mourning mouth for the rest of the night. The rest of the new year was in memory of Marie-Jeanne.

 An enthralling quiet descended across the crowd as the mimes began to mime out the minute long countdown. Even if you wanted to yell (with two colourful exceptions) you would barely speak louder than a whisper.  On top of a tall spire, a striped black and white ball slowly descended. The silence rang like an orchestral harmony, which was a strange experience for everyone who hadn't heard loud silence before. When the clock hit midnight, the silence was loudest of all. Then the ball burst, and black sauce the hadn't been seen since the Sauce had dried up exploded over the whole common, covering many people. Those who got some in their mouths would soon come to regret it. 

 “What happened to me? What happened to you?” Nell cackled as she took in his rainbow stripes. But Nell certainly wasn’t about to let Kaden have the last laugh, and with another narrow of her eyes and quick spellwork, she wasted no time in hauling a metric fuck-ton of Sauce towards the hunter, pouring it over Kaden in a cursed and sticky waterfall, but purposefully leaving his rainbow hair on full display. 

 Snickering as the banana peel dropped on his new friend’s head, Solomon gave Arthur a nod in solidarity. Not wanting to fall behind, he made sure to get another popped balloon under his belt, but… nothing happened? He was certainly close enough to have seen it, the young man was passing right by them, balloon tucked beneath his arm when Solomon reached out and burst it with a prick of his thorned finger. Disappointed, he gave the two of them a shrug. “Guess it was a dud…?” Glancing up as a sudden hush fell over the crowd, he watched with interest as the mimes counted down silently, the ball slowly started to slide down, and then… exploded? Alarmed, he raised his arms to cover his face, sidestepping behind Arthur quickly as he could.

 “Nah. Bird poops all runny. Was too thick for that.” Mercy wiped her hand on her jeans as she departed for the crowd. It wasn’t often that she used her power to such an extent, but tonight, with so much chaotic energy thrumming around them, the pull was… irresistible. Add Arthur’s gleeful encouragement - along with that of her new friend Solomon - and nothing could stop her from tipping the scales in favor of letting chaos reign supreme. She gave Arthur a warm, knowing smirk as she returned, and glanced at Solomon as the moment the bell would toll drew closer. “You’ll see…” She looked up as the little boy got stuck in the glue, but his mother got him out eventually, sans a shoe she didn’t bother to retrieve. “Eww!” she laughed, swiping the banana peel off her head… “That’s so gro-...” Mercy’s voice fell to a whisper. She frowned. She looked at her watch.

 There was only silence where a bell should’ve sounded the time… 

 Silence that was deafening… until...

 ...pop… pop… pop-pop… POP

 The sound of balloons. 

 Because in the crowd that Mercy had ducked through moments earlier, people were raising whatever they could find to the floating bits of plastic… and as the New Year began… they were popping them, one by one. Not all of them, and not everyone, but enough. 

 Mercy wasn’t sure what was happening. Only that she was covered in…. glitter. So much glitter… but it could've been worse. So much worse. So in true Fury fashion, she embraced the chaos she’d helped create… and laughed. 

 The echo of pops broke the otherwise eerie silence and Arthur didn't even bother to stifle his chuckle. "No no no!" he protested as Solomon tried to hide, grabbing his friends arm and scuffling to get behind him instead... Right as a balloon popped over his head and covered him in glitter. Well, that was the weirdest New Year’s he’d ever experienced.

 Even the camera footage has been tainted with the Sauce as Sam and his camera crew tried the playback function on soggy recording device. Everything just played back in black and white without any sound, like an old silent film. 

 Sam tried to give an updated new report on what happened for the Camera after trying to wipe black goo from his hair and gag it off his tongue. But he couldn’t speak. Sam raised his voice and even shouted until he was red in the face, but not even a rasping sound left his throat. 

 Eventually the sauce-sodden student was reduced to forlornly scribbling on the cue card with markers and holding them up to the camera. 

 HAPPY NEW YEAR WHITE CREST

 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

[halequeenjas]

Glitz & Glam || Camille, Cutler, Dave, Erin, Evelyn, Jasmine, Leah, Nate, Nell, & Oz

TIMING: Tonight  PARTIES: @carrionxcamille @clarkesconvenience @seizethecarpe @corpse--diem @thronesofshadows @halequeenjas @nate-santos @nelllraiser @curatedfaetes SUMMARY: Just some mostly harmless fun celebrating Jasmine’s birthday. 

Birthdays had always been something Jasmine enjoyed, especially her own. As a self-proclaimed lover of being the center of attention, she couldn’t help but love Nell’s idea of being carried into her own party on a palanquin. The notorious Jack the stripper was one of the men carrying her into the jazz bar that was holding her New Orleans themed birthday party. Just by the looks of it, she could tell Nell, Leah, and Bea had really outdone themselves. There was a jazz band currently playing Run the World aka one of her favorite Beyonce songs. The mask decorating station was ago along with some beads. A whole table full of beignets was calling her, but it was the tiramisu cake that Nate made at the center of it all that really caught her attention. Jasmine soaked in some of the cheers as she was carried into the center of the room.

 Nate had made sure to get to the venue early enough to set up the delicate tiramisu cake in all it’s glory. Originally, he’d wanted to do much more gold leafing, but other than on the decorative macarons, it just ended up covering the beautiful layers and that wouldn’t do. He stood back and admired his creation until Jasmine herself entered in true Jasmine fashion: carried in an ornate palanquin carried by muscled men to the sounds of Beyonce. He grinned, expecting nothing less of Jasmine Hale. He applauded along with a few others and hoped beyond hope that this would be just another ordinary party with ordinary people. 

 Nell was one of the many cheers to accolade Jasmine as the woman was carried in by assorted and muscular men, and she gave Jack a friendly wave as he too made his course across the floor. It was hard to forget the time he’d been dressed as a sailor at Bea’s party, and then the time he was Bea’s plus one to Nell’s party. It seemed that their little gaggle of girls had decided to adopt Jack to some extent, and he was quickly becoming a permanent fixture at parties. “Yes, Jasmine!” she yelled along with the rest of the crowd, accidentally jostling the Mardi Gras mask she was wearing while cupping her hands around her mouth. Though...now that she thought of it...now was the perfect time to grab a handful of beignets while all eyes were focused on Jasmine, and she quickly made her way towards the pastry table. “Scuse me,” she offered to whoever got in her path as she worked her way toward the sweetness.

 The last party Dave had been at, he hadn't been, strictly speaking, invited. He had, strictly speaking, almost drowned because he'd been trapped in a magically frozen lake. So. This could only be better. Although it felt mighty weird being invited to a party when the only time he'd really gotten to know Jasmine was by being attacked by Bloody Mary. Wasn't the neatest way of getting to know people. There were some faces he recognised, but as he waited for Jas to come in... Dave felt more than a little out of place in all this glamour. Doubly so when Jasmine (who he really only knew as an exorcist) came in on a goddamn palanquin. It was at this point that Dave concluded he would need a whole lot more beer.

 Attending functions that were important to one’s friends was the right thing to do, and Evelyn also knew that she truly enjoyed Jasmine’s company, and the two of them hadn’t had too much time to spend together recently. What better way to remedy that than by attending her birthday party? Miriam had given her full approval of her outfit (which wasn’t truly something she needed, but she enjoyed having the approval of others, so it certainly didn’t hurt). Evelyn couldn’t help but grin at Jasmine’s entrance. A bit over-the-top, certainly, but charming and perfectly executed. Though she shouldn’t have expected anything less. She’d grabbed one of the beignets and was absent-mindedly picking at it, giving a small wave to Jasmine as she was carried in.

 Once in the center of the room. Jasmine gracefully exited the palanquin as Jack offered her a hand. She smiled widely at the room filled with her various friends and acquaintances. As the song and cheers quieted, she called out, “Thank you so much to everyone for being here. I hope you have as much fun as I do. Please, help yourself to the open bar and assorted snacks available.” She made her way over to the bar to get herself a glass of champagne. It was, after all, a celebration. She dawned her lovely Mardi Gras green dress with gold accents with a lovely mask that included the use of crystals and gold flakes around the edges to give her an extra glamorous flair. She greeted her friends who were already at the bar and was ready for good old fashioned cheers. 

 From the moment she walked in, Erin had been pretty damn sure that she’d never been to a party quite as festive or extravagant as the one she’d stepped into. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense for someone like Jasmine, and hollered and cheered as loud as she could along with the group when she was literally carried into her party. Good for her, she thought, as she beelined for the mouth-watering treats that lined one of the tables. After making sure she had a glass of champagne, of course. “Excuse you,” she joked, gently nudging Nell away and snatched one of the desserts she was reaching for first.

 So, Camille wasn’t going to say no to an excuse to let her hair down, especially now that she lived alone, even if she didn’t know all these people it was nice just to be out for a fun evening. The decor alone would’ve been enough to indicate that Jasmine intended to throw one hell of a party, and her over the top entrance confirmed it. She laughed and cheered along with others as she was carried in, and then realized that if she was going to be any sort of entertaining at this party a drink was probably a good idea. Thank god for an open bar. With a glass of wine in her hand Camille felt much better, and it wasn’t long before Jasmine appeared at the bar too. “Hey you!” She grinned, already feeling a bit excitable as she clinked their glasses together, “happy birthday! That was an interesting way to kick things off.”

 Not one for giving speeches and drawing attention to herself, especially in the state she was currently in, Leah was happy to let Nell and the others pour accolades and love on Jasmine as she was carried into the party, grinning genuinely for the first time in a few days at the ridiculousness of it all. She looked down at her outfit, wondering if she’d managed to stop it from clashing with her new sling and cast and feeling unusually self conscious.  She waved as Evelyn approached her, grabbing a beignet for herself and taking a bite.   “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a drink”, she said to Evelyn.  “Can you drink…?  With your… you know, allergies?”

 Nell had already told Jasmine ‘Happy Birthday’ on multiple occasions, including when she’d shown up to help get the decorations in order— so she wasn’t all the intent on pushing through the mob to get to Jasmine at the moment. No doubt she’d make her way over there later, though. No. This was the time for powdered sugared pastries and...apparently Erin. Nell grinned up at the woman with little to no apologies, already stuffing one of the beignets into her mouth and swallowing before answering. But Erin was quick to snatch up the next one she’d had her eye on, “Hey! No, excuse you! That one’s mine- go get your own.” Nell wasn’t so proud so as not to swipe at the pastry Erin had stolen, doing her best to keep the mortician from actually eating it.

 She gave another wave to Leah, grateful to recognize someone in this party besides Jasmine. Evelyn grinned. “Luckily, one can trust Jasmine to have excellent taste in alcohol, so I say absolutely.” She nodded at her friend’s next question. “I can. Well, most drinks. Can… you?” She remembered Leah mentioning issues with water, but wasn’t sure how that extended itself to other liquids. “Just perhaps not a margarita for me, but most other things work well.” She nodded. “Shall we?”

 Nate shuffled himself a bit out of the way of the table to make room for anyone who wanted to grab a beignet or praline, mumbled out an ‘excuse me’ here and there. Nowadays he was far from the party animal he used to be, a man who once took up so much space at a gathering and dragged people out to the dance floor in droves. Now, he was hanging out by the food and trying to make himself as small as humanly possible, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass of champagne he’d gotten when he came in. 

 Jasmine was more than happy to see Camille at the bar and was even happier that the woman had lived with Cece. New gal pals were always a win in her book and she was smiling ear to ear as she greeted her friend. “I’m so glad you made it,” she exclaimed, “And that dress looks amazing on you.” She laughed a bit at the comment on her entrance. What was a birthday without a grand entrance? Grand people deserved grand entrances. It was like the law… or something. “Thank you. I’ve always been of the go big or go home mentality. I’ll give credit where it’s due and note it was Nell’s idea. If you don’t know her, I’m sure you’ll meet her today. If anything she says sounds too crazy, she’s probably trolling you.” 

 Oz was not immune to a good party. More often than not, they invited chaos. Less often, they were decent opportunities to get information on targets, slip away into unguarded chambers for reconnaissance. He’d spent most of his week arguing with minor artists in the northeast, weighing their work against each other for a spot in the opening exhibition. It made him prickly and, worse, gave him little time to explore the town. Finally, he had time. Wandering through the cold streets, he drifted naturally towards the raucous music coming from Speakeasy, just in time to see a woman being carried in on a palanquin. Huh. Oz slipped in, searching for someone who’d actually been invited. There was a nervous-looking man standing by the food. Perfect. He plucked his own glass of champagne from another guest on the way over, and raised it to the man. “A toast to new friends.” Oz figured, if nothing else, he could have a bit of fun messing with this guy.

 Leah nodded as well, happy to have a chance to explain a bit more to Evelyn.  “I can, mostly everything.  Just water is a no-go.”  She thought about what Evenlyn said, nodding.  No Margaritas, no salt.  Evelyn had mentioned briefly that her skin reacted to salt, but this all but confirmed that the reactions were due to her supernatural status.  That narrowed it down significantly.  “We shall”, she grinned, popping the last bit of beignet  into her mouth before they made their way over.  She was determined to enjoy this night, injuries be damned.  With the wall as her guide, she made her way over to the bar with Evelyn.  “I do really need to treat you to lunch”, she said over her shoulder to the other woman.  “It’s the least I can do after that… sizeable donation I received on Christmas.  It’s too bad this is open bar, Evelyn, otherwise I’d insist on buying for you all night.”

 Nate nearly jumped out of his skin when someone addressed him directly. He’d been perfectly fine standing like a wallflower, careful not to look at anyone too closely lest he see that they had horns or hooves or something equally as monstrous. He smiled at the man and raised his glass a bit, nodding in response to his cheers. “To new friends,” he managed before taking a long sip. Out of the corner of his eye, the newcomer seemed to ebb and flow out of his vision, but when he looked straight on, he was totally normal. Nate took a deep breath. Must be the champagne. “So uh...how do you know Jas?” Cutler was determined to show Jasmine that he had more than one formal outfit in his closet. He had two, to be precise - but she didn’t have to know that. He felt strangled and hot and was beginning to regret the skinny black tie, which hung short over a leafy tropical button up. His eyes were drawn away from the engrossing task of tugging and smoothing his tie by the eruption of cheers around him, followed by the entrance of Jasmine on the palanquin. The bottle of D'Autrefois Pinot Noir suddenly felt heavy at his side as it dawned on him that he was, once again, far out of his depth. She looked extravagant and expensive, as did the cake, the decorations, and everyone here. Probably-no,definitely-too busy to chat. His free hand was already gesturing abstractly in the air at the end of the bar as he thought, I’m not getting through this without a drink. A couple rubbing elbows away, he recognized Erin tussling over a beignet and made a mental note to find her if he needed a reason not to talk to the person he came here to see. Near him, someone mumbled a quiet excuse me and he straightened against the bar to make room for the passerby. “You’re good, man.” He nodded, giving a small smile of acknowledgement. Someone behind him was toasting, and he raised his glass in a pavlovian, robotic response. “New friends.” He echoed, swallowing his drink with professional flourish.

 “That is good to know.” Evelyn nodded. “Yes, I just find that avoiding things like that is better.” Even if she still wasn’t entirely sure how she would react to salted items, it was easier to explain things that was versus explaining that she just couldn’t walk over salt lines. But that was something to discuss when it was just the two of them, and when they weren’t celebrating a dear friend’s birthday. “We will make a plan of it,” she offered Leah a gentle smile. “Besides, that donation was more than earned and was far less than you deserve. If it makes you feel better, you can order for me, how does that sound? Red wine is always a plus in my book.” 

 “You snooze you lose, kid--hey!” Erin laughed as Nell pawed at the macaron on it’s way to her mouth. She put her arm up, blocking off the shorter woman with just enough time to pop the treat into her mouth. “Get away, there’s like a hundred more!” She said, pointing to the table with a full mouth. She washed it down with the last sip of the champagne in her glass and grabbed a few more treats. There were more than a few familiar faces but she could see the woman of the hour from here. Grabbing a few treats in a napkin for the short walk, she headed towards the bar. “Happy Birthday, lady!” She greeted. “I’m pretty sure that was the most fabulous entrance I’ve ever seen in my life. Which, you know. Makes absolute sense considering…” she didn’t need to finish her sentence, just gestured towards Jasmine with a big grin.

 “I can’t remember the last time I went to a party, which meant I had to come.” Camille smiled and sipped her wine, brushing a hand down the front of her dress. It was vaguely on theme- apparently purple was a mardi gras colour- which was good enough considering the small wardrobe she had to work with. “Thanks. Though I don’t look as good as you, obviously.” Her eyes strayed over to the food table, and the woman mentioned. “Oh, I think we’ve met.” Camille looked in thought for a moment, as if trying to remember her. Like she could forget. “Yeah… At a coffee shop. Just briefly, we nearly mixed up our orders.” She laughed, “she seemed nice. I’m sure she won’t say anything crazy- is that a habit of hers?”

 Someone else had echoed Oz’s toast behind him, and Oz shifted his body just so, inviting the person into the conversation without explicitly acknowledging them. The wider a circle could get, the more it’d look like Oz belonged here. Oz grinned, all teeth. “I don’t, actually.” The man seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Oz was hot, but he’d never pushed a man (or otherwise, for that matter) from averting his eyes from his good looks. Did he know this man, somehow? Faces swam in his memory, but none matched with the person in front of him. He filed that information away, searching for a quick half-truth. “I’ve been looking for someone who does know her, but I’ve only found you.” Oz winked, taking a quick swig of his champagne. He shrugged, amicably. “It’s not a party if you’re not meeting new people, I say.” He tossed a quick grin to the man who’d joined in on the faux-toast. “Speaking of…” He held out his hand to the newcomer, another shark-wide grin. “Osric.” A wink over his shoulder to the shy man. “But you can both call me Oz, if you like.”

 “You said it, not me,” Jasmine said with a small laugh to indicate she was in fact joking. It was one thing to call herself beautiful and another entirely to claim she was the most gorgeous person in the room… no matter how true it was. When Camille said she had already met Nell, Jasmine would have bet actual money that it was because Nell had trolled her on the internet. As it turned out, that wasn’t the case. “Oh, good! I’m glad to hear that. And let’s just say she has a penchant for messing with people. It can be highly amusing depending on who you are.” When Erin walked up to join them for a drink, she gave a welcoming wave and smile. “Erin, hey! Have you met my friend Camille?” She gestured to the lovely woman in purple standing beside her. “Thanks, it was Nell’s idea, but I think I pulled it off fabulously. Well, me and the attractive muscled men.” 

 Nell didn’t leave her crusade of taking back the pastry unfinished until Erin had finally and wholly eaten it, determined to make Erin regret taking the macaron that Nell had been eyeing at least a little bit. But as the other woman drifted towards Jasmine, Nell followed suit- but not before stacking an impressively sized tower of pastries into her tiny gremlin hands. “Happy Birthday!” Nell yelled at Jasmine for what was probably the third or fourth time that day. She’d only just caught the tail end of Jasmine’s conversation while walking up, and cocked her head to the side while catching her name. “Of course you pulled it off fabulously. The muscled men were just accessories, and we know it. You were the crown jewel.” With that she ate another of the many pastries in her hands whole.

 Leaning against the bar for support, Leah’s eyes widened at Evelyn.  “Please”, she chided, “That was more than enough.  I don’t think we’ve ever had this much surplus in our budget before… it’s... incredible.”  She thought on it, nodding.  Evelyn’s idea would have to do, at least for now.   The bartenders, for their part, worked quickly, and she handed Evelyn a glass of Pinot Noir, grining.  “In honor of the birthday girl, …her favorite”, she said sipping on her own glass.  “How do you know Jas?”, she wondered, watching Jasmine in her element.  It was a relief that this party was going over so well.  Jasmine, above almost everyone, deserved such an extravagant celebration.

She eyed Leah, a bit of a concerned look crossing her face. But whatever had happened to her, Evelyn wasn’t going to force her to say anything. She didn’t think that Leah was quite as private as she was, but she also didn’t want to pry too much. “Well, you and the library deserve it. So it was my pleasure. She took the glass from Leah, “and an excellent favorite it is, if I do say so myself.” She took a small sip before answering - first glancing over to where Jasmine was standing, before focusing back on Leah. “When I first moved here - well, it will be five years come April - she sold me my house. We got along quite well and I suppose just sort of naturally clicked. How about yourself?” She asked, tapping her fingers against the wine glass. Cutler hummed reciprocally, only half listening to the toaster in front of him. Behind his flowery words, he had a magnetic quality about him. He was attractive, sure, but this wasn’t something so tangible. Whatever was causing the third in their circle to avert his gaze was the same thing that held Cutler’s attention even as champagne bottles popped behind the bar and little pieces of gold confetti itched at his beard. “Oz.” He repeated, pumping their hand shake with a relaxed grip. “Cutler.” He took another sip of his drink and looked between the two men before deciding to weigh in on their conversation. “So, Oz. You don’t know Jasmine? Are you party crashing?” The last drops of his whisky crashed against the side of his glass as he set it on the bar and gestured for one more. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna rat you out. Friend.” He winked, imitating Oz’s earlier action. 

 Erin turned to the other woman with a bright smile. “I haven’t! Nice to meet you. I’m Erin,” she said before putting down her empty glass and plucking up a fresh flute. She felt only a little out of her element at the moment, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of the theme of the party, but it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. Jasmine’s excitement was downright infectious. “Oh, beautiful accessories. Good call,” she agreed. Glancing between Nell and Jasmine, she subtly pointed to one of those muscled men who’d carried her in. “Wait, isn’t that the same guy from your party, Nell?”

 Nate stepped to the side again, widening his circle out of muscle memory. Luckily the new guy seemed totally normal too. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued to try and ignore the watery edges of the man who didn’t seem to know Jas at all. Not that he could blame the guy if he was crashing, this was probably going to be the event of the season. Not to mention Nate hadn’t always been invited to every party he’d been to. He smiled a bit more easily, though the guy - Oz - had something about his smile that made him feel like prey. “Nate,” he introduced himself to the two men before taking another long sip. “Definitely not a Hale party without new friends, that’s for sure.” 

 Camille returned the smile and sipped her drink, “It’s nice to meet you too, Erin.” She nudged Jasmine gently in the side, “we shouldn’t inflate her ego too much.” She teased, “I dread to think what mode of transportation she’ll manage to find next year when her birthday rolls around again.” Camille gave Nell what she hoped was a warm enough smile, despite the nerves that disturbed her at seeing the other woman again. This was a party, surely she wouldn’t say anything out of turn. Though Erin’s question served to distract her from that fear, “How have I never seen this guy before? He is like… The intimidating kind of hot.” She spoke in a hushed tone, so to not be overheard by said man.

 “You’re too sweet”, Leah said with a shy grin, sipping more wine.  It was going down easier than she expected, and that was saying something.  She was determined to find a way to pay the woman back- along with Mercy and Arthur, too, one way or another. Her eyebrows raised in realization at Evelyn’s anecdote, and she nodded.  “She meets so many people that way, it’s incredible.  She sold me my house as well, but well… we met years before that.  We’ve been best friends since we were kids”, she explained, smiling nostalgically.  “Despite White Crest’s antics we’ve managed to stick together with another friend of ours for forever.  It’d feel strange not to be in her life now, honestly.”

 Another wide grin was on her face as Nell approached. Jasmine was grateful for how she pulled this whole shindig off. “Thank you, Nellie. And thank you for planning this perfect party. I don’t know how any of my future birthdays could ever top this.” She gestured around at the decor and crowd. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it. She laughed as Erin and Nell spoke and agreed, “My favorite kind of accessory. Think one of them knows how to cook and is down for being a trophy husband?” Jasmine looked over at who Erin was gesturing to. “Oh, Jack? He was at both Bea’s and Nell’s birthday parties. He’s pretty much a birthday staple at this point. A very, very hot birthday staple.” At the mention of her next mode of transportation, Jasmine giggled and took another sip of champagne. “I’m sure we’ll think of something to top this entrance for next year.” She gave Nell a playful nudge as she spoke. Maybe a magic carpet or like a Britney Spears “Baby One More Time” tour style of flying over the crowd. There was an amused grin on her face as Camille spoke of Jack. “Oh, he’s definitely super hot, but don’t let it be intimidating. He’s a nice guy. Plus, you’re also really hot. And a delight!” 

 “Oh yeah, that’s Jack!” Nell said brightly, giving another wave in the stripper’s direction. She was pretty sure Bea had brought him over for dinner sometimes at this point. “I think he’s Bea’s friend now.” Or maybe she was wrong. It was hard to keep track of things when she was under constant demon cult barrage. Nell’s gaze lingered a little too long on Camille, still having far too many questions when it came to the woman’s necromancy origins. Unfortunately, now wasn’t the place to ask them. “Oh, Jack’s not intimidating, really. He’s actually very sweet.” Sending Jasmine another grin, she rearranged her pile of pastries to make sure none of them fell. “I’m just glad I could help. You know I love makin’ parties. And I’m sure we’ll think of something for next year.”

 Oz feigned a grimace at Cutler’s words, the back of his mind sparking with intent. It was always useful to start lacing webs of promises early, especially ones that had been lined up so neatly for him. “Ah, thanks friends.” Little too thick? Eh. “Promise you two will cover for me if things ever go south?” He shrugged amicably. “I’m new in town, and I’d like to avoid making enemies. For now.” Oz huffed out an awkward, fake laugh.

 “Hardly - or, perhaps, selectively,” Evelyn sighed for a moment, though she kept a small smile on her face. Perhaps she was, if so many people kept insisting upon it. “I do suppose that a job like hers lends itself to that. She does manage it expertly, from what I can tell.” She was grateful to have met someone like Jasmine back then - in part because she didn’t judge Evelyn for being relatively young and able to pay for the house in full right to start, but also for the genuine feeling that their conversations had held, even from the beginning. Even though, as far as she knew, Jasmine was human. “She did? Well, she certainly has a way about the town, so that makes sense.” Her expression softened, and for a moment she glanced down at the floor. What was it like to have a friend since childhood? “That’s great! I’ve heard that can happen, if you have a friend for long enough. Becomes weird to imagine your life without them. I’m glad you two have one another,” she replied genuinely. Grabbing her phone for one moment, she took a photograph of her wine glass, sending a text to Miriam quickly before focusing back on her friend. “A friend could not make it, and so I told her I’d keep her updated on what is going on.” She provided as an explanation. “Does Jasmine try to throw parties like this for you, too? Or did she ever, in all your years of knowing one another?”

 Nate nodded, absently picking up a few beignets to occupy his hands and mouth. It had been so long since he’d been to a party or around a bunch of guys that he’d nearly forgotten how to hold a conversation. His heart was hammering but he tried not to show it, instead focusing on what he could control. “Oh yeah, of course.” He glanced around the room full of laughter and drinking and dancing, wondering how anything could go south. “I’ll help you out in any way I can, enemies here are...well they’re not great to have.” 

 Cutler wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the infectious nature of the other man’s grin, but he felt compelled to agree. “Sure, I’ll cover for you. I don’t think you have much to worry about, though. Seems like an open-invite deal. Don’t see them cracking down on party crashers. Talk about a mood ruiner.” His eyes went from the beignets back up to the third man’s mouth, now stuffed. “Enemies?” Something at the back of his mind began to pulse nervously. All this talk of enemies and trouble, perhaps. “You guys make a lot of enemies? You’d level with me if you were planning something, right?”

 Leah smiled softly at Evelyn’s explanation, reminding her of their previous conversation about emojis.  “Some people like taking pictures of their food and drinks just for fun.  As some sort of documentation, I suppose.”  She shook her head at Evelyn’s question, taking another gulp of wine.  “I think Jasmine and Bea- that’s our other friend-, I think they know I’d just about die if they subjected me to something like this.  Too much attention, I think...I wouldn’t enjoy it at all.  I prefer a quiet dinner with close friends, usually.  Did you ever have big extravagant birthday parties?” She imagined she must have, coming from the childhood she did.  Though she did remember her mentioning that she didn’t have any siblings, or many friends growing up since she never went to school.  Leah hoped her question wasn’t insensitive.  

 Dave breathed in deeply as he took in the scenery, feeling distinctly out of place in his only mildly frayed shirt and cargo shorts, but that was what Jasmine had signed up for. As he inhaled, he caught the scent of a brackish pond, like someone had just been fishing and had fallen in or something. It was deeply familiar. He turned his attention over to a trio of men, where the smell was coming from, walking over. "Evenin' folks. Mind if I join? Don't know too many folks at this party." And most of them were young.

 “A hot air balloon?” Camille chimed in with her idea, giggling as she took another sip from her glass.  She turned her gaze back to Nell, “this is a really impressive party, by the way. Like, wow.” A compliment couldn’t hurt in making sure her secrets were kept for now, right? Plus it was true. Cam had organized a few parties for co-workers before but this was beyond anything she’d ever done. “Oh.” She waved a hand dismissively, “a delight I may be, but I can’t compete with abs like that. Not that- it’s still too soon for me to be thinking about guys and what have you, probably.” She thought of Carrington for a moment and tried not to blush, hiding her face with another gulp from her wine glass. “How do you two know Jasmine, then?” She asked, trying to steer the topic another way.

 Nate’s eyes went wide. “Planning something? Here? Ohhh absolutely not,” he laughed, eyeing Jasmine. The idea of ruining her lavish party with some sort of prank or scheme was far beyond Nate, even in his prankster years. “Talk about making an enemy.” He tossed another beignet into his mouth. “No, more like...you peeve someone off and they leave strang packages on your doorstep for a month. Or blast music at all hours of the night. Or suddenly your car goes missing. Nothing super doom and gloom.” At least that’s what Nate had experienced, not that he ever made many enemies. He turned to the new addition and smiled, the expression freezing on his face when the man spoke. Needle sharp teeth extended from his gums where normal human teeth should have been. His words were friendly enough, but altogether ruined by the fact that he looked like Jaws had a baby with a person. “Y-yeah! The more the merrier!”

 Oz masked a smile at the newcomer’s appearance, happy to be able to avoid any probing questions from Cutler’s direction. A tingle of power echoed the men’s words in the back of his head. “Absolutely! We were just having a conversation about how I didn’t know anybody at this party. My invite…” He let the sentence trail off. Whatever they’d construct was fine, especially given the promises. Nate, however, looked less than pleased at their new arrival. “The more the merrier,” he echoed. What was going on here…?

 “I am trying to attempt to be some variation of with the times, I suppose.” Not that Evelyn figured Leah would mind too much - or at all - if she were not, but some part of her still found herself feeling a bit too out of touch at times. “I sort of had gathered as much. Quiet dinner, or a time spent with films or books, seems far more up your alley.” The name Bea sounded vaguely familiar to her, but she’d have to focus on that more later. “Oh, I have been part of many extravagant parties, birthdays absolutely included in that. My father threw me a party with about two thousand people… somehow… for my fourteenth birthday. I think he just wanted to show me off. I do not know where he found that many people and I spent most of my time to the side. I had other large parties, but that was the biggest. Since coming here, I have found that I sometimes prefer things more lowkey, I’d rather spend time with a few people I care about than many people I,” find boring, too human, and do not care for, “do not know. So I suppose things can change. I have nothing against attention, but I think finally having friends,” she shrugged, “gives a new perspective. I am glad Jasmine gets all this attention though, she deserves it.”

 “Maybe getting carried out could just be your thing each year, you know? Just add a new spin to it. But always, always include the muscle men. I think that part goes without saying but I needed to emphasize it.” Erin glanced over at Nell’s pile of treats and snagged another one from her. Her grin brightened when she noticed Cutler across the way, and after wishing Jasmine another happy birthday, she excused herself and made her way over to the circle of guys loitering by the desserts. “Hey! I didn’t know you knew Jasmine,” she said upon approaching. “Looking snazzy, though. It’s good to see you!” Cutler glanced toward the newcomer, not expecting to have to cover for his new acquaintance quite so soon. He made another noncommittal grunt of agreement and nodded a chin toward him. “Not true, Oz. You know me.” He smiled, the half-truth only a little sour on his tongue. The predatory look on his accomplice’s face didn’t alleviate any of the discomfort that was beginning to turn his stomach. “Of course we don’t mind-” He was cut off by the appearance of Erin at his side, a welcome distraction. “Hey! You clean up nice yourself.” He lifted the wine bottle in his hand woefully and leaned in a little closer to be heard. “Only a little. I was going to give her this, but I..” He turned his head to see her, doting upon her loyal attendees. “...I think she’s busy.”  

“I think you’re doing great, Evelyn.  Blending right in!”.  Leah smiled at Evelyn’s correct assumptions about her, finishing up her last few sips of wine.  “You’ve already read me like a book, it seems”, she mused.   She listened carefully as her friend told her another extravagant story about her childhood, this one just as interesting as the last she’d heard.  “That sounds… incredible,... but perhaps a bit uncomfortable?”  It seemed by the way she was describing it that Evelyn felt more like a trophy piece to her father than his daughter.  “I’m glad, at least, that you’ve been able to establish more of your own rhythm in life.  That’s perhaps the hardest part of coming into adulthood and separating from the people who raised you.”  She thought for a moment, waiting a beat before speaking again.  “But hey-  m

“Hot air balloon sounds fun, but Erin may be right. Having the muscled men is really part of the appeal,” Jasmine joked. Well, maybe it wasn’t so much a joke as it was said jokingly. Almost instantly she was shaking her head, “You can compete with his abs. Don’t undersell yourself, you’re a catch.” She would take none of her friends not believing they shouldn’t shoot their shot. “And hey, if he’s not into it, he’s not into it. That’s a different story entirely though. Ask guys out on dates whenever it feels right for you.” While she was single herself, Jasmine liked to think she had a wealth of wisdom to provide on the subject of dating. Rule number one was always no mimes. Don’t trust anyone on Tinder in this town was a close second. That was how you became someone’s dinner. Decidedly not the type of snack anyone wanted to be. “Anyway, I think it’s time for a toast.” She took that moment to welcome herself onto the stage where the band was playing and clink her glass. “Everyone, I purpose a toast. To another year of thriving and happiness with some of the greatest people in town.” She raised her glass to the crowd before finishing off the flute of champagne. It was now time for dancing and she had the feeling one of the muscled men who carried her in would make for a perfect dancing partner.

[thezolblade]

Jon: “I wish I could talk it through with Martin, or Tim, or Sasha…But we never really did that, did we?”

I’ve been meaning to pull together some meta ever since hearing that line. As understandable as it is that Jon would regret the times he failed to communicate, as true as it is that he’s often fallen down there (and it’s fun seeing the fandom screaming over that on an ongoing basis)... I’d say he was too hard on himself by saying ‘never’, since there were times when he tried to communicate to the best of his ability. More than that, there are lines that give me the impression he’s always highly valued shared knowledge - that as well as being driven by a deep desire to know, he also wants to help other people know more, and gets frustrated when they don’t want to share knowledge with him or others.

Some quotes here, and interpretation below, of times when he tried to go beyond the ‘archive the closed cases’ job description that was supposedly expected of him, pursuing his priorities in the expectation that people would help - when he still expected that other people would help as a common sense assumption - or discussed events with the assistants beyond the bounds of what he was officially asking them to do for the job, etc. (Mostly s1 bc this is taking more evenings than i expected just from looking through the transcripts and a lot of episodes don’t have them yet):

MAG 001 - Anglerfish

ARCHIVIST: When an investigation has gone as far as it can, it is transferred to the Archives. [...] it seems as though little of the actual investigations have been stored in the Archives, so the only thing in most of the files are the statements themselves. [...] I plan to digitise the files as much as possible and record audio versions, though some will have to be on tape recorder as my attempts to get them on my laptop have met with... significant audio distortions. Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

MAG 002 - Do Not Open

ARCHIVIST: When the Institute first investigated, it doesn’t look like they were able to find a single piece of evidence to support the existence of this scratched coffin, and to be honest I didn’t think it was worth wasting anyone’s time over now, nearly twenty years later. That said, I did mention it to Tim yesterday, and apparently he did some digging of his own.

MAG 004 - Pageturner

ARCHIVIST:  So it doesn’t appear that we have any concrete leads to go on. Still, I will be bringing this up with Elias and recommending that the search for any other missed books from the Leitner library be made this Institute’s highest priority. Jurgen Leitner has done the world enough harm and we must pursue all available avenues to ensure that he does no more.

MAG 006 - Squirm

ARCHIVIST: I can’t find any evidence that my predecessor took follow-up action on this statement, so I’ve taken the step of reporting Mr Hodge’s to the ECDC. We were unable to locate him to request a follow-up interview and if he has had intercourse with one of Prentiss’ victims, then they’ll need to deal with him sooner rather than later. I just hope it’s not too late already.

MAG 011 - Dreamer

ARCHIVIST: I’m not... entirely sure whether to bring this up with Elias or not. When he hired me, he was vague on the point of what happened to my predecessor, Gertrude Robinson. [...] I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. [...] Still, I might have a word with Rosie, to make sure I get a copy of any new statements as soon as they’re made, not just once the researchers are done with them. She seemed very open to idea of recording them, so I’m hopeful she’ll be willing to do this too.

MAG 017- The Boneturner’s Tale

ARCHIVIST: I've barely scratched the surface of the archives and have already uncovered evidence of two separate surviving books from Jurgen Leitner's library. Until he mentioned that, I was tempted to dismiss much of it out of hand, but as it stands now I believe every word. I've seen what Leitner's work can do, and this news, even 17 years out of date, is still very concerning to me. I'm going to have a discussion with Elias as to what we can do to address the issue. I know he'll just give me the old “record and study, not interfere or contain” speech again, but I at least need to make him aware of it.

MAG 020 - Desecrated Host

ARCHIVIST: This all leads me to believe that there may have been a second person there that night, although from talking with the police, I get the impression that there is little appetite for re-opening the case, considering how successful the initial prosecution was.

MAG 022 - Colony

ARCHIVIST: In which case there's a room in the Archives I use to sleep when working late. I suggest you stay there for now. I'll talk to Elias about whether we can get extra security, but the Archives have enough locks for now. [...] Well, in that time I have received several text messages from your phone, saying you were ill with stomach problems. The last one said that you thought it “might be a parasite”, though my calls trying to follow up were never answered. [...] I just received another text message. From you. “Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.”

MARTIN: What does that mean?

ARCHIVIST: It means I ask Elias to hire some extra security. I should probably warn Sasha and Tim as well.

MAG 024 - Strange Music

When discussing this case, Tim said it reminded him of some articles he'd read on travelling circuses in Russia and Poland during the early 20th century. On a whim, I hunted down a few of the volumes he mentioned in the Institute's library, and sure enough on page 43 of Gregory Petry's Freaks and Followers: Circuses in the 1940s, I found a reproduction of an old black-and-white photograph.

MAG 026 - A Distortion

SASHA: Well, I’m sure you know I was sceptical about how dangerous this Jane Prentiss was when you first suggested Martin stay in the archive. [...] You were having some argument with Tim about... um, oh, who’s that architect he’s obsessed with?

ARCHIVIST: Robert Smirke. [...] ARCHIVIST: Sasha has taken a few days off to recuperate, and I’m having a word with Elias about getting some extra CO2 fire extinguishers for the Archive.

MAG 033 - Boatswain’s Call

TIM: Um, look I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure... it’s not a big deal, I just think it might be worth re-recording these statements.

ARCHIVIST: No. I don’t have time. I still have a mountain of haphazard statements to get through, not to mention that I need to keep this wretched tape recorder on hand just in case I encounter one of the files too stubborn to work on anything else. And when I do, I have to actually read the damn thing, which is...

TIM (BACKGROUND): Oh, woah, woah... woah!

ARCHIVIST: Fine. It’s fine. I just haven’t been sleeping much these last few months, what with all this... worm business. Which reminds me, if you do see Elias, tell him thanks for the extra extinguishers. [...] ARCHIVIST: In addition to such business ventures, the Lukas family also provides funding to several academic and research organisations, including the Magnus Institute. Much as I want to dig further into this, especially given certain parallels with case 0161301, Elias gets very twitchy when we look into anything that might conceivably have funding repercussions. [...] Maybe I’ll mention it to Elias. Just in case.

MAG 035 - Old Passages

ARCHIVIST: You should have seen Tim’s face when I told him. Architecture is one of his specialist areas, and he has always talked of Smirke as one that fascinates him. How did he phrase it? “A master of subtle stability.” From a professional standpoint, it also interests him that Smirke’s buildings have higher percentages of reported paranormal sightings than any other architect of similar profile.

MAG 036 - Taken Ill

TIM: Er, what is it?

ARCHIVIST: A lighter. An old Zippo.

TIM: You smoke?

ARCHIVIST: No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

TIM: Okay. Is there anything unusual about it?

ARCHIVIST: Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

TIM: Ah no. No.

ARCHIVIST: Well... show it to the others, see what they think.

MAG 039 - Infestation

ARCHIVIST: I got it!

[PULLS TAPE RECORDER FROM THE MORASS OF WORMS] [...]

SASHA: Why record it?

ARCHIVIST: What?

SASHA: Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there— [...]

ARCHIVIST: I just... I don’t want to become a mystery. I refuse to become another goddamn mystery. [...] Every real statement just leads... deeper into something I don’t even know the shape of yet. And to top it all, I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help and the police were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality. If I die, wormfood or... something else, whatever, I’m going to make damn sure the same doesn’t happen to me. Whoever takes over from me is going to know exactly what happened. [...]

ARCHIVIST: Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that... Why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have... I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe... thirty, forty that are... that go on tape. Now those, I believe, at least for the most part.

MARTIN: Then why do you—

ARCHIVIST: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels... it feels like I’m being watched. I... I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like... like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will... know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer.

MARTIN: Well... It wasn’t.

ARCHIVIST: No. No, it wasn’t.

[...]

ARCHIVIST: I mean at the Archive in general. Why haven’t you quit?

MARTIN: Are you giving me my review now?

ARCHIVIST: No... We’re clearly doing a whole heart-to-heart thing and, truth be told, the question’s been bothering me. You’ve been living in the Archives for four months, constant threat of... this. Sleeping with a fire extinguisher and a corkscrew. Even you must be aware that that’s not normal for an archiving job? Why are you still here?

MARTIN: [Considering] Don’t really know. I just am. It didn’t feel right to just leave. I’ve typed up a few resignation letters, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand them in. I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t... move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck.

Martin...You’re not, uh... You didn’t die here, did you?

MARTIN: What? What? N-No... what?!

ARCHIVIST: No, I just... No, just the way you phrased that...

MARTIN: Made you think I was a ghost?

ARCHIVIST: No... it’s—

MARTIN: No, no... it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too. We all are, I think.

MAG041 - Too Deep

Why do I still feel like I’m being watched? I’d just about convinced myself it was Prentiss, watching me in secret while she filled the walls with her writhing hordes, but no. She is dead and gone, and still whenever I talk into this... damn thing, I feel this... I’m being watched. I know I am. [...] my primary focus must be on who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I do not believe for a moment that it was a wall-moving spectre from the depths of the earth. No, far more likely it’s one of my colleagues. Elias is a prime suspect, but it could have been any of them. [...] I can make two tapes from each recording. One containing the main statement and notes, which will be stored in the archive, and the other containing the statement, notes, and... this supplement, which will chronicle my own investigations. These tapes will be hidden. If you’re hearing this, I assume you’re my replacement, following my death or disappearance, and have received instructions on where to find them. [...] This level of paranoia is new to me, but I’m learning fast. Trust can get you killed.

...So, reading back over season 1 was interesting. Jon was asked to organise an archive of statements that were no longer under investigation by the institute. (Leading a team of four ex-researchers, himself included, who were used to working on open investigations. He was told that the institute’s mission statement was to study but not to ‘interfere or contain’, to the point where he got sick of Elias giving him that speech.)

He believed every statement that we heard him record, and he had all 3 assistants take part in re-opening an investigation into each of them through all available lines of enquiry (instead of devoting more resource to getting the existing material filed in a sensible system asap).

Wherever there was a chance it would do some good, he reported his findings to the authorities, and pushed to see if the Institute or the police would go further on the basis of his information.

He discussed the cases with his assistants thoroughly enough to know their areas of personal interest in the supernatural, and when they got into trouble, he immediately offered them as much protection as he could and went to Elias for help, prompting some of the others to express skepticism about the threats that he was clearly taking seriously, maybe excessively so...?

And yet because he felt watched by something supernatural, and convinced himself that it was Jane Prentiss somehow, he lied constantly by feigning skepticism even while following every lead and pushing everyone else to do the same. It’s a wonder anyone was fooled tbh, and it backfired by discouraging Martin and Sasha from confiding in him until they were in deep trouble. It also made his complaint about lack of sleep look relatively grumpy/petty to Tim, since he didn’t quite admit the full scale of the problem with nightmares and the exhaustion that the statements magically caused.

When Elias was feigning a normal level of ignorance in ep 39 he told Sasha: “You know how those two are... John puts on a good show, but sometimes I swear he’s worse than Martin.” And in ep 40 he told Jon: “I... know I have often seemed dismissive of your concerns before, and in fact I was getting ready to raise the issue of Martin’s continuing to live in the Institute’s basement”. If Elias was faking something like the rest of the Institute staff’s attitude (to things he wouldn’t admit to knowing all about)... then people really did doubt Jon’s skeptic act, feeling that he was always complaining about supernatural threats and going overboard in trying to protect people.

That changed in season 2, when he came to believe that one of his colleagues had murdered Gertrude, and stopped trusting all of them. When he was worried that his own death might be imminent, in the midst of Prentiss’ attack and in the paranoid aftermath, one of his main concerns was communicating with his successor through the tapes.

He doesn’t want his fate to be a mystery to those he leaves behind. Considering how much danger he puts himself in, diving into a pile of worms for the recorder, and later stating that he’d rather die exploring the tunnels than leave the Institute’s secrets buried, he’s more interested in getting information out to other people than in surviving.

Mid-season 2, when he gets scared, he talks about taking a break from his investigations until he can get more help from the police, especially as he thinks he’s trying to track down a human murderer. That remaining trust in authority doesn’t lead him to him collaborating with Basira to the extent he’d hoped, since she eventually makes it clear she wants nothing more to do with him, and he discovers that not!Sasha is a supernatural threat that the police couldn’t help with anyway.

The start of season 3 sees him reflecting that he didn’t turn to his assistants for help because he didn’t want to get them killed, and once he makes it back to the archives, he tries to overcome his recent trust issues and more long-standing hero complex by involving the others in his plans again - though they take care not to let those plans show up on tape, since they’re plotting against Elias by that point. When Jon asks everyone to record their thoughts before the unknowing in Testament, he’s trying to get them all communicating - with themselves, each other, and anyone who follows in their footsteps.

So far in season 4, he’s been more ready than ever to collaborate, but the others are mostly refusing to talk to him. His first instinct when he uncovers immediately relevant information is to go tell Basira, and he heeds her advice when he asks whether they can tell Melanie. (Which was unfair on Melanie, but at least you can see why he’d fear for his life after she threatened to attack him on sight if he ever tried to talk to her again.) He tried to tell Martin what had been going on instead of trying to compel information from him, and apparently hasn’t had much chance to speak to anyone else, or to leave the building.

He has the power to compel other people to see truths that they wouldn’t have recognised on their own; he only had to ask Tim what he was holding for Tim to see the detonator. And he may compare himself to Gertrude for losing assistants, but he talked to Sasha and Tim about the threats they were facing at the time, to the best of his knowledge. If Gertrude seems to have fought her battles by deliberately misleading people so that she could sacrifice them, and by taking out ‘loose ends’ to keep herself from being incriminated...

Well, I think Jon’s on his way to distinguishing himself from his predecessor through good communication, despite the massive stumbling blocks of his paranoid phase and isolation. (And through his extreme protectiveness towards individual people, compared to her way of prioritising the big picture.) He’s always wanted to get the truth out in the open, despite sometimes holding back out of fear that he won’t be believed, or he’ll get himself or others killed. Some of his most uncharismatic moments have been his attempts to tell people the truth when his knowledge was too patchy to convince them, and he wasn’t tactful enough to try to bring them on-side with diplomacy instead of facts and theories. As his powers grow, one of his most effective abilities might be to help his allies see the truth, so that they can join forces by choice.

E.g. maybe he’ll eventually find out what Peter’s up to from Martin - or maybe he’ll ask about something that he didn’t even realise was part of the plan, granting Martin an insight into something that neither of them knew beforehand.

[Edit: Wrote the above post in the mid-s4 hiatus and, uh. He sure did try to collaborate on a lot of stuff, but. Also fucked up pretty thoroughly, so. The s4 thoughts feel a bit over-optimistic in retrospect. Leaving it strikethrough rather than deleted though.]

[dragimal]

thoughts on Voltron s7

this is prolly old hat by now, but I still wanna throw my two cents to the wind. this is gonna get very rambly, and I’m gonna derail A LOT to air out other grievances I have w/ the show/fandom. a rant like this has been a long time coming-- the reception to s7 only pushed me to write this now. so beware, I guess. also I’m not rly tryin to Start Shit, so I’m slottin’ this under the cut

I think I should start at the beginning: I didn’t like Voltron for the first 3 seasons.

it was perfectly passable, but not.... exactly the kinda thrilling saga Tumblr made it out to be. all the hype put me under the impression that VLD was a deeply emotional/character-driven story much like ATLA-- I was sorely disappointed to find this wasn’t the case. instead, I found a typical space-mecha plot populated by pretty tropey characters-- certainly not bad, but not all that emotionally gripping either 

I actually grew p bitter over Voltron’s particular brand of popularity-- mainly the comparisons to ATLA, as if VLD was anywhere as deep and clever. I wasn’t mad that it was popular so much as it seemed popular for the wrong reasons

now I’m not saying that enjoying VLD is “childish” or whatever, I’m just saying that comparing VLD to ATLA is p damn insulting, imo. ATLA has a level of depth in plot, worldbuilding, themes, character arcs/interactions, etc. that’s incredibly impressive-- esp for a kid’s show. u just don’t get that depth from VLD-- and honestly, that’s just fine! I know I’m singing ATLA’s praises to the heavens here, but I’m also kinda sick of Tumblr trying to compare every damn thing to ATLA, as if every piece of media HAS to be another ATLA to be worthy of praise (like the whole “Zuko redemption arc” thing has been taken wayyyyy too far when critiquing villains...)

ATLA and VLD aren’t trying to accomplish the same things, so it’s kinda shitty to place those kinda expectations on the creators of VLD when they’re trying to do their own thing? like, I don’t expect Osomatsu-san-- a very stupid show I deeply adore-- to be the next FMA just b/c both shows have a focus on brotherly bonds; they’re clearly two separate things that I can enjoy for different reasons

anyways, to cut that ramble short, VLD just wasn’t my thing when I first started it. I’m not big on mechas, and I typically prefer pointed storylines over ‘adventure-of-the-week’ setups. not that VLD doesn’t have some underlying plot for the first couple seasons, but it takes a while to get past random villain fights and/or adventures every ep and condense it into a continuous plot thread. some ppl like that kinda thing, I just don’t. the reason I continued to watch it-- despite my misgivings-- is b/c I like watching things with friends. my bf has always liked VLD and wanted me to see it, so I enjoyed watching it with our audience of two

I’m glad this setup forced me to continue watching, or else I would have never reached the turning point-- episode 33 (s3): “The Legend Begins”

this was the point at which my feelings switched from “eh” to “oh... OH. OH SHIT.” I’d finally started to get INVESTED. I finally began to develop real attachments to the characters! I was finally eager to learn what happened next; finally perched at the edge of my seat in anticipation! VLD had finally found its footing and solidified its unique voice, and I couldn’t have been more proud!

yet, what did I hear from the fandom as this narrative transition began?

“the show has gone downhill, and it’s only getting worse!″, "[x] characters aren’t developing anymore” and/or “the showrunners HATE [x] character!”, etc. etc.

though I suppose it’s a bit simplistic to say the fandom as a whole thought this way; in reality, just a vocal subset of the fandom thought-- and continues to think-- this way

yes, patient reader, this is one of those conversations. because we really can’t have a proper fandom discussion anymore w/o getting into those topics, can we? god, if only

so I’ll stop beating around the bush: antis fucking hate the new seasons, mainly because:

1) a lot of antis love Lance for some reason? antis don’t like the fact that Lance isn’t, like, the entire damn focus of the show (calls for “black paladin Lance” galore....), so they don’t like the fact that other main characters play significant roles in the show. this has devolved into unfounded critique of Lance’s character development in the last few seasons, when in reality Lance has gotten SIGNIFICANT development from s4 onward (just like most every other character..). he’s gotten more confidant in his abilities and is less defensive of his character, he’s more cooperative w/ his teammates, and he’s learned to (usually) recognize when a situation requires a serious approach rather than nonchalance. like, as someone who doesn’t much like Lance, I think it says something that my feelings have advanced from, “jesus I can’t stand this guy, can he shut up for one goddamn second,” to, “nice, Lance is mostly bearable and sometimes charming, now.” this point bleeds into the next point--

2) a lot of antis LOVE klance-- or the ship Keith/Lance, for any random readers that don’t know the Voltron fandom. klantis-- as these particular antis have been dubbed-- hate ANY semblance of connection either of these characters have w/ other characters, b/c it threatens klance. Keith and Lance both canonically have strong connections to other specific characters (Keith to Shiro, and Lance to Allura), so these ships are the most threatening to klance

now, all stans/shippers have fans that are a bit too defensive, sure. I’m not saying that sheiths (Shiro/Keith shippers) or any other stans/shippers in VLD aren’t ever at fault. but antis always ALWAYS bring an insidious dimension to fandom wank in the form of-- for lack of a better term-- “social justice posturing”

I’m not claiming that discussions abt representation and sj issues in fandom aren’t important, but antis always take these sensitive issues and simply use them as ammo in what are typically giant ship wars. there’s no nuance, no room for different interpretations-- only black/white divisions of what is “valid”/”canon”/”acceptable”, which are then strategically warped in favor of what the antis of that particular fandom favor (which, in the case of VLD, is Lance/klance)

of course, not ALL VLD antis are specifically out to discredit just one ship, as evidenced by the proliferation anti-shaladins (those against shippers of Shiro w/ ANY of the paladins). BUT this is exactly where anti tactics are utilized in full-force, and where this petty ship war further devolves:

antis fucking HATE Shiro.

Shiro poses the biggest threat to klance (at least in terms of fandom, b/c Allura canonically poses a much bigger threat tbh), thus antis have steadily built a “case” against Shiro not only as a bad partner to Keith, but as a bad character in general. the more “reasonable” antis claim things like, “Shiro’s too mentally ‘broken’ to be with anyone!” “Shiro’s too old to be with anyone, he’s practically a grandpa!” and, “Shiro’s too much of a parental/guardian figure to consider any paladins as potential partners,” while more extreme antis have claimed that Shiro literally IS a pedophile, or straight-up dangerous due to his mental hang-ups

there is clearly a lot wrong here both canon-wise (Shiro has shown 0% confirmable attraction to any character in canon; everyone’s actual ages are vague at best, thus there are no exact age gaps to measure, etc.) and in terms of plain ethics (callin a guy w/ ptsd “too broken” fuckin WHAT). but this is what antis have devolved to-- dismissing Shiro’s mutual connections to his fellow paladins at best, then accusing him of straight-up horrific shit at worst. all in the name of protecting a ship. boy howdy.

(*SIDENOTE* I hypothesize that Allura doesn’t get nearly the same level of hate b/c mlm ships are favored in fandom, thus there are more sheith shippers than allurance (Allura/Lance) shippers to oppose klance. she may also be protected by Tumblr’s over-the-top glamorizing of any and every female character, but that’s a rlyyyy weird discussion that’s hard to quickly/accurately dissect, so I’ll just leave that particular hypothesis to the side..)

anyways, patient reader, let us return this tangent back to the original point: the general criticisms directed at s4 and onward. how do antis relate to this?

well, it’s real fuckin convenient that ppl suddenly started recognizing VLD’s writing/plot/etc. flaws when the show wasn’t catering quite AS much to Lance, or Lance/Keith interactions. real fuckin convenient ppl suddenly started criticizing Shiro as a character when said character’s relationship w/ Keith began to gain more focus and development. real fuckin convenient that ppl are finally recognizing that VLD isn’t as great as ATLA, when the last few seasons have gotten PRETTY DAMN CLOSE to ATLA’s level of emotional depth

so I’m bitter abt Voltron again. but rather than being bitter abt VLD being popular for the wrong reasons, I’m bitter that VLD’s flaws are finally being recognized for the wrong fucking reasons

and this is where it gets real fucking dangerous, b/c antis are dangerously persuasive to the general fandom public

since antis use sj language as ammunition for petty-ass shit, they can easily gain the attention of... god, I hate that I have to unironically use this term, but Tumblr “normies”. I literally have no better, simple term to describe somebody on Tumblr who hasn’t watched VLD (or simply hasn’t engaged in the fandom in a significant way), so please just roll w/ me here, for my own sanity. so Tumblr normies-- as those on Tumblr are prone to-- are vigilant in keeping up w/ sj issues across the board. this is good! it’s good to be aware of and critical of the content we consume..... until it’s. not.

I’m not the first to say that Tumblr has a very warped, very dangerous approach to sj activism. much like full-on antis, there is so much black/white thinking, lack of nuance, swift and unforgiving retribution for even slightly differing opinions, etc etc. it’s why so many ppl on Tumblr even ARE antis, b/c it’s rly just the fandom-offshoot of this mentality

but even beyond the most extreme “activists” of tumblr, anti’s sj language is dangerously appealing to even the chill normies-- nobody WANTS to support dangerous relationships or bad representation, after all! so they latch onto that rhetoric too, b/c when normies see antis' (usually unfounded) criticisms thrown around, they don’t know the show/fandom well enough to be able to verify those criticisms. and like, I get the appeal of it-- I’ve def made similar mistakes w/ unfamiliar fandoms as well, b/c I want to support a cause that seems just. it’s p natural to want to align w/ what we perceive as a just cause, esp when convinced by a persuasive speaker

thus, antis have gained a significant following of normies due to the simple fact that Tumblr normies DO care abt sj issues, but they DON’T care enough to research the show themselves to see what’s what

so, let me quickly recap the stage I’ve set for you here:

1) the fandom in general has given Voltron more credit than is due, and has subsequently placed ridiculous expectations on it. this has given Tumblr normies a false impression of VLD and its standards

2) antis are SUPREMELY protective of klance (and Lance in general), and have thrown around WILD accusations at any ships that threaten it, leading to--

3) antis throwing Shiro under the bus time and fucking time again.

4) by abusing sj language/tactics, antis appeal to Tumblr normies’ sense of duty, thus gain their approval in ganging up on whatever antis deem unjust in VLD-- whether it’s actually valid or not

so fuckin forgive me for being a bit skeptical when I heard rumors of “bury your gays” in Voltron from antis/normies, when these same ppl are actively throwing around accusations of pedophilia in the name of goddamn shipping

but I’ll fully admit, I passed judgement on this criticism a bit too quick, considering I hadn’t even seen the new season yet. it’s never good to blindly accept opinions purely on the basis that they bolster ur own assumptions, and I’m not immune to that charming trap (tho thankfully I’m not typically a vocal member fandom, so I was mostly just nodding along w/ my fellow shieths asdfg)

so finally, dear reader, we reach the actual point of this post: after seeing s7 for myself, what even ARE my opinions on it?

well. the handling of Adam and his relationship to Shiro............... wasn’t great. it was pretty fuckin terrible, actually. despite all I’ve said against antis, I agree w/ their general view that Adam’s relationship w/ Shiro (and his subsequent death) was shoddy, underdeveloped, and disrespectful to some degree. I’m personally not sure it’s worth the title of “bury your gays” for several different reasons, but I wouldn’t fault someone for calling it that, b/c there are definitely several other reasons that reinforce that trope. it’s worth discussing, and definitely worth voicing criticisms towards, esp in terms of Dreamworks’ “lgbt rep” advertising before s7′s release (which was absolutely scummy, there’s just no other word for it)

so if I agree w/ antis’ basal complaints in this instance, then why the hell am I even talking abt this? why am I putting so much effort into dissecting the fandom, only to essentially reach the same conclusion as those I fundamentally disagree with?

well, I suppose it’s all abt the framing.

I’m not gonna link the post b/c, again, I Don’t Wanna Start Shit, but most of y’all have prolly seen that one post that breaks down the history of the “bury your gays” trope, and how it was possibly utilized in VLD. it’s a p good argument in that respect-- I think it hits the main points of how/why Adam and his relationship w/ Shiro was just plain Bad

and to the untrained “normie” eye, that’s all it is. however, there is a cryptic framing present that reinforces anti talking points, which only someone involved in the fandom would recognize. 

(*SIDENOTE* I don’t mean to pick on SPECIFICALLY this post, I just think it’s a nice rundown of a few of the main rhetorical tactics used by antis. it’s certainly not a unique post in the fandom, but merely a good example of this brand of posts)

for one, this post forces an emotional distance between Shiro and the paladins. this post INSISTS that Shiro can ONLY be interpreted as a guardian character that can’t relate to the other paladins in any significant way due to age gaps and traumatic experience. THUS, according to antis, Adam was the only person that Shiro could have intimately discussed his problems w/ b/c they’re the same age and have a history. Adam's death removed this potential confidante, thus leaving Shiro to sort out his issues alone

while I agree that it would have been nice to see Shiro chat w/ a new character he has a history with (esp considering we rly haven’t gotten much backstory on Shiro yet), so much of this argument is simply false

I’ve already mentioned the bullshit that is the vague age gaps, but even if we were to take them into account, there ARE characters who are assumedly at or over Shiro’s age: Coran and Allura. and yeah, Coran is prolly not the best choice in terms of real emotional connection, but Allura? she could prolly fuckin relate. Shiro’s had his body and autonomy violently violated by the Galra, to the point that his original body is now destroyed; Allura has had her culture and people violently violated by the Galra, to the point the her original planet/culture is now destroyed. Shiro is/was a leader to the paladins, and takes their collective failures to heart as his personal failures to his team; Allura is a literal princess to her people, and takes their downfall as a personal reflection of her lack of ability to protect them. their situations obviously shouldn’t be 1:1 conflated, but to say they have no points of relation here is fuckin insulting

but since age gaps like this mean JACK SHIT when it comes simply developing emotional connections and mutual respect, we don’t even need to go so far as to match ages! this is evidenced by actual intimate interactions Shiro has had with the paladins!

the first one that comes to mind even involves antis’ favorite-- Lance! episode 45 (s5): “The White Lion” involved a moment where Shiro approached Lance on his own and opened up abt his mental health, saying he, “didn’t feel like himself.” now it could be argued that this was Shiro’s clone-- not Actual Shiro-- approaching Lance for help. tho I firmly believe that are still true parts of Shiro present in his clone, even if he’s not fully there. the clone is still protective of his team (before his mind is COMPLETELY hijacked, of course), and I believe any connections/loyalty/trust Shiro has towards the paladins is still true for the clone (even if this can, once again, be forcibly overridden). this moment is Shiro-- the part of Actual Shiro that’s present in his clone-- approaching a fellow teammate for help. of course, Lance doesn’t know exactly what to do in this situation, but he at least stays w/ Shiro for support

and then of course there are all the great moments Shiro has w/ Keith that antis want to forget abt. moments where Keith has laid down his health and safety for Shiro, moments where Keith has barred his soul to Shiro, moments where Keith has done everything in his power to reach out to a hurt and struggling Shiro.  moments where Keith has made it ABUNDANTLY fucking clear that he’s here to the bitter end, that he’ll NEVER give up on Shiro. it literally doesn’t fucking matter if u interpret these scenes as platonic or romantic, b/c the fact of the matter is that Shiro and Keith care DEEPLY abt each other in some shape or form. disregarding that is forcibly ignorant. also, we've now confirmed that Keith and Shiro do have a HISTORY back at the Garrison together before all this Voltron nonsense started (even if it isn’t necessarily a romantic history), so Keith also has that leg up

the subtle framing of Shiro as STRICTLY a “guardian” character is also a classic anti tactic, as it implies a sort of pseudo-pedophilic undertone to any Shiro/paladin ships, which is just.... gross and dishonest. yes, he’s canonically a leader to the paladins, and oftentimes takes on a guardian-type role, but once again, he also canonically opens up to other paladins on a mutually respectful/intimate level. there’s nothing in canon that would strictly suggest he’s ONLY a guardian figure-- “space dad” is a fandom interpretation in the same way that framing him as Keith’s lover is a fandom interpretation. neither is more or less 'canon', and it's petty to suggest otherwise

another weird point in that post is the insistence that Shiro is a “tragic gay character”, which is just..... not fucking true, first of all. he’s definitely suffered the most out of any main character, I agree, but he’s GETTING THROUGH IT. he’s been pulled through it by the paladins, and he’s learning to use his own strength to pull through as well. he’s so incredibly fuckin strong and it’s a fuckin shame that ppl don’t see how inspirational he is to those that may be struggling emotionally. plus, he's never suffered BECAUSE he's gay, nor has he ever had a damn HINT of queer-coding until Adam was shoehorned in (which is its own separate problem w/ the show, but it's not a "tragic gay" problem)

but beyond all that is an even more subtle insistence that Shiro has always been a beloved character to ALL in the fandom. antis’ underlying implication that, “hey normies, Shiro-- our beloved Space Dad-- has been given the shit end of the stick, and u should be mad abt it too!” 

as if antis haven’t spent the last several years shitting on Shiro at every turn, saying he’s got “scrambled egg brains” b/c of his ptsd, and other horrific shit. the fact that they can turn around to “defend Shiro’s honor” now that he’s *confirmed queer* (and, initially, confirmed less of a threat to klance due to Adam) and STILL be taken seriously is goddamn terrifying 

like I am literally seeing posts like this-- IN 20FUCKIN18-- that normies are taking at face value and reinforcing:

to any normies reading this: SHIRO AND KEITH AREN'T FUCKING RELATED!! racist antis insist that they have to be related b/c they're both Asian and the second half of their last names (Shirogane and Kogane, respectively) are similar. I'm literally so baffled over how this tactic is ever taken seriously, but who fuckin knows I guess. and if antis are trying to make a case for adoptive siblings, Keith canonically met Shiro by at LEAST his early/mid teens-- LONGGGG past the developmental age of youth where he might latch onto another person as a strictly non-romanceable relative, so. No. fandom is free to interpret Keith and Shiro’s relationship as brotherly, but to say that that is the STRICT and true 'canon' interpretation of their relationship is, once again, fuckin petty and dishonest

just. how fuckin DARE antis act like they give a SINGLE goddamn shit abt Shiro’s emotional needs and trauma after pullin this shit. how fuckin DARE antis misuse real sj issues to appeal to the lowest common denominator in normies, looking for fodder to fuel the flames of hate

so, if I may be so bold as to utilize one of antis' many battlecrys: this discussion does not exist in a vacuum. Adam's shoehorned relationship w/ Shiro is shitty and worth criticism, absolutely. but brushing aside the fandom history driving the resulting uproar-- as if ship wars aren't HUGELY influencing this backlash-- is SUPREMELY fuckin ignorant

antis latched onto Adam HARD when he was first announced, despite all the signs he'd be a side character at best, that he was stated clearly to be Shiro's ex, and having no context for his personality. Adam was antis' newest shield to their ship-- somebody to take Shiro's romantic potential away from Keith, thus leaving Keith open to Lance. Adam's death eliminated that shield, leaving antis reeling-- they couldn't just jump right back into hating Shiro after having showered his newly-christened gay ass w/ praise for all of the Tumblr normies to see. so, their anger was tactically redirected towards Adam's development

there is nothing shocking abt any of this tbh. all antis is the same, and they're all bitter assholes that are completely willing to abuse real sj issues for their own goals. plain and simple.

I don't rly have a proper ending for this. I'll just say that I like s7 a helluva lot, and Adam’s shitty development doesn’t rly phase me? not everyone feels that way, which is valid, I just don’t particularly give a shit abt Adam. I have hope for s8-- esp in terms of potential development for Shiro. since Shiro got such heavy focus in s6, it makes sense that he was pushed to the sidelines a bit this season to leave room for the other characters (Keith, Lance, Commander Holt + Earth stuff in general, etc.) to develop and shine. I've heard rumors that Adam did in fact have more development that was cut, which I'm honestly willing to believe b/c the development we got felt cut short, rather than simply planned that sparsely in the first place. my hope is that s8 will return some focus to Shiro, and possibly slot in some of these cut scenes to bolster a better backstory to their relationship? pure speculation tho, and it doesn't rly excuse Adam's treatment in s7, but it's worth considering

before I completely end off here, I just want to go on one last FINAL tangent: I'm so damn disappointed that everyone is sleeping on kexa (Keith/Acxa)??? if anything it poses MUCH more canon threat to BOTH klance and sheith purely b/c it's 'safely hetero' and b/c the show itself has hinted at potential feelings there (“She’s always been sweet on that one with the flippity hair,” and “Oh look Acxa, it’s your favorite paladin~”). like I haven't seen antis OR sheiths even mention this, it's baffling. the fact that it'll prolly be canon is bittersweet for me: bitter b/c DAMN I love sheith, and sweet b/c damn.... I'm rly diggin kexa....

so the moral of this post is: blease appreciate Keith's beautiful goth gf, she deserves love

thank u and goodbye

[toxicityrp]

                  NARCISSUS ● THE SOCIALITE ● CLOSED

     ❝ When this little shit came into the group, I had no  idea what was running through Anthrax’s brain. But after  a while, you really see their worth. They’re charming and    get the connections we need. They tell me the gossip,            I dish it out. Perfect duo or what? ❞

THE SINNER. TW: SUBSTANCE & FAMILIAL ABUSE, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Here’s the thing about growing up in a house built entirely on looks and lies: a kid learns to get very, very good at things like working a room, hiding in plain sight, and flashing a grin so charming anyone could fall for it. Julian picked up everything they know about projecting confidence and style from their wreck of a home. Sure, it looked nice from the outside—both their parents had Wall Street ties, the houses they owned were huge and immaculate, and there was not a reason in the world that anyone could find to dislike them. All that money had to go to something, right? Too bad the smokescreen was only for outsiders. Mrs. Donovan was all smiles for everyone except her child, who could never quite seem to do anything right. Even when their skin was marred with bruises and cuts designed to sting unseen, who would believe their glamorous mother was anything other than perfect? Their father never seemed to care much for them, so no luck there either.

If that was just the way it was, then Julian would adapt. They became the perfect little prize to parade around at parties, dapper in little suits and a little too clever with sly jokes for their own good. They did well in school, they practiced hard at the piano, they did everything right. And it wasn’t enough. Still the criticism, still the accusations and insults and pain. They learned to dress so well because every single thread was nit-picked by their terror of a mother, and then that critical voice started to manifest inside of them, too. That’s too bland, that’s too trampy, you look like a sack, what’s wrong with your skin? Your hair? Your nose and teeth and shoulders and stomach? They tried so hard to keep being perfect anyway. They tried so hard they began to crack from the inside out. At the dinner table fourteen-year-old Julian would stare at their fork and think about all the places they wanted to jam it into their skin just to see what would happen. They never followed through on any of those impulses, not when their mother still followed them into dressing rooms and barged in on them showering to spout her spite. Any mark she could find was just another possible danger. No, the fantasy was less about pain (they already received so much of that) than about ceasing to exist as a physical entity. Being a perfect son, a fine young man, whatever everyone called them—it was all so exhausting. How did anyone do this?

Only two years later, they were clumsily picking the liquor cabinet lock and taking from it little by little. Never enough to get caught, but enough to get drunk. At first. Then they needed more, and more, and more and more, to drown out that horrid little voice in their head telling them everything was wrong. They’d wake up hungover as all hell and get trotted off to some rich man’s garden party, but somehow they always made it through with a smile and a thousand handshakes and no one the wiser. Or maybe, simply, no one cared enough to see.

In college they were supposed to be free, and sometimes they even felt like it. They had the chance to grow into their own identity for once in their life, and it constituted something of a radical shift. They found their pronouns and their people, bedmates and peers, hobbies besides networking and drinking. They still drank, of course, and it was celebrated as a fantastic party trick. Nobody notices the warning signs when they’re all also shitfaced! Julian tried so many drinks and drugs they thought they could rule the whole fucking world.

Then they ended up at home one winter break, locked up in the bathroom for making some unforgivable mistake. They’d been accused of so many over that they couldn’t be bothered to remember the details at this point. It always came back to them being a liar or a whore or something along those lines. If only she knew what a goddamn degenerate I really am, they’d thought, not bothering to wipe away the tears on their face. The eyes that stared back from the mirror looked lifeless. They would never be good enough. Why did they even keep trying? It would be so much easier to pick up that razor under the sink and just-

Oh. Their heart skipped a beat. That had scared them more than their own mother.

The next few years were a drunken, hazy blur, one big attempt to bury that frightening moment so deep in their soul that it never surfaced again. They graduated from college and business school while self-medicating with whatever anyone would sell them and got the hell out of the house as soon as they figured out how to leech from the family assets without being tracked down. All that training in smiling and smooth-talking helped them bounce from place to place without losing too many connections or giving up on their rather lavish lifestyle. Sometimes screwing preppy country club rats even made them feel good about themself, for an hour or so. Then it was right back to the oxy and rum. Did all that pretending to be pretty and charming and harmless do anything to help the spiraling emptiness in the pit of their being? No, but it was an effective enough distraction most of the time, and when even that failed they took up the kinds of hobbies rich people without much to lose could enjoy. They took cooking classes and learned how to screw around under the hoods of cars and found skill after skill to learn as if any of them made them feel alive.

They only went home once after that, when they got word that their father had up and left without a day’s hesitation. Stepping back into that gargantuan house was like walking right into a cage on their own free will, but something they hated inside of them drove them forward anyway. Maybe it was a desire to finally please their mother, just once. They didn’t accomplish it, since she spent the entire visit acting as if she was the victim of the whole universe’s cruelty. So he found out about the affair, she said. So I told him you’re not his. What did I ever do wrong?

That was a new and intriguing consideration. Though it pained them to spend a second more with her, they managed to wrangle out the name they needed to track down their real sire, only to discover a set of siblings to boot. Cruel trick, God, if you’re even there. You know I always wanted someone to play with.Anticipation lodged itself in every bone in their body as they planned out a trip to Dertosa to track down anyone who was willing to test the waters with them. Ben and Cecilia were such a surprise. They couldn’t fathom what they did to piss Nightshade off—usually they had to flirt with a girl before she went all icy on them—but the feeling was mutual, and that was fine. It wasn’t like they didn’t know how to smile oh-so-sweetly at a woman they despised. Ben was a different story. For the first time it was as if someone saw right through all the charm, right down to the weight dragging Julian down all their life. Ben got it. The word family finally felt like something.

After that, finding a fancy loft in Dertosa and joining up with the Poisons was a no-brainer. Julian had never had a clear idea of what to do with themself anyway, and it was like they had been sculpted and groomed just for this job. The job made them better, actually. That and being around Anthrax. Narcissus still binged on anything that sounded good in the moment and flirted their way into and out of every situation imaginable, but that voice in their head grew less powerful. They were good at this. They were doing something worthwhile and doing it well. If only they could rub that in their mother’s face now.

Almost five years strong, and then it all went to hell. Narcissus woke up in a cold sweat, tangled in their bedsheets as chaos raged around them, to the news of Anthrax’s murder. The voice surged back, drowning out everything else with one spiteful, sorrowful cry: it should have been you instead. It should have been me instead.

The past six months have been nothing short of rough. If there’s one thing Narcissus is sure about, though, it’s that Nightshade can and should pick up where their brother left off. They don’t want to lose the first real family they’ve ever had, or the first real sense of growth they’ve felt in pretty much their whole life. Besides, anyone who thinks they can run Toxic City’s resident keepers out of town with a couple petty scare tactics has clearly never met the Poisons before.

THE FACTS.

Narcissus is sticking by their sister and continuing their work as the Poisons’ marketing-and-sales brain. They’ve always got something to prove to someone. Gregarious and incorrigible, they’re good at making connections and digging up gossip, even if they sometimes cause a little gossiping with their behavior. They have a penchant for edible vices and a reputation for a long bedmate waitlist, though the former is a lot more serious than they make it sound and the latter is somewhat overblown by rumors. They’re covering up some serious issues that they should probably talk to someone about, but only Anthrax ever really knew what kind of darkness lurks behind that sly grin. Things were improving before his murder, but now Narcissus can feel themself slipping back into dangerous habits and they’re clawing desperately at any good thing they can hold onto. Maybe that’s the source of the sudden change in their attitude toward their sister—they may not admit it for fear of losing a few teeth, but they know the signs of someone sliding into a bad place. If they can’t help themself, why not help others?

THE MUN.

☾ Divya | PST | She/Her

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I kind want a hp and pj crossover I mean it would be pretty gr8

Percy and Harry would bicker and neither of them would truly know if it was good natured or not ; Ron would be completely enthralled by the plates that give you any food you want ; Annabeth would probably be willing to give Hermione a chance and try to befriend her but Hermione would just try to physically fight her whenever she felt outsmarted ; Ron and Leo would fucking hate each other it’d be gold ; Jason doesn’t see what the Big Deal is with broomsticks, gets a concussion from a bludger even though he wasn’t partaking in the quidditch match ; Piper is completely fucking horrified by love potions and starts a protest with Luna and Ginny ; Malfoy starts in on his bullshit and Hazel just straight up stabs him with her sword ; Frank and Neville, I don’t even need to add anything to this, just the thought of them in the same room is enough to make me tear up ; “Percy no you can’t fucking ride a broomstick like it’s a skateboard” ; Nico accidentally finds fluffy and is like “Cerberus what the fuck dad’s been looking everywhere for you I’ve had to start working security because of you” ; Grover signs every single protest petition about magical creatures that Hermione comes up with and wears all the buttons ; Apollo has to physically drag Meg out of the herbology Greenhouse ; Annabeth and Luna study dates bc Luna wants to hear all about the greek and roman bullshit so she can get the word out in the Quibbler and Annabeth wants to know wtf a nargle is ; Meg casually pulls the sword of Gryffindor out of the sorting hat, looks at it for a few moments, says ‘lame’, walks away ; Thalia keeps electrocuting racists, no one is super willing to actually stop her ; Rachel and Apollo completely take over the divination class and no one can Stop Them ; Reyna personally punches Voldemort in the face, killing him instantly ; Percy talks Hazel into casting a convincing enough glamor so people will think Mrs. O’Leary is a school-approved cat ; A troll gets into the dungeon but it turns out to not be an issue because Tyson ended up befriending him and getting him to calm down ; Percy’s a bit freaked out by Hagrid but Mrs. O’Leary loves Fang so he always tags along to visit his hut ; Every Animagus Is A Little Pissed Off That Frank Can Just Do Whatever ; Mrs. Weasley and Sally Jackson have a bake-off ; All the greeks very confused about why the centaurs are Like That ; I cannot decide for the life of me if Chiron and Dumbledore would get along or if Chiron would Hate Dumbledore lmao ; Snape starts in on any of his shit and Mr. D just snaps his fingers, turning him into a dolphin, and leaves before someone can accuse him of caring ; Leo keeps blowing shit up in potions while also consistently somehow maintaining an A average and Slughorn just thinks it’s the funniest goddamn thing ; Luna keeps trying to find out if Frank can shift into nargles or wrackspurts or any of that and he’s Stressed about it ; Annabeth hates Wizard Chess™ because it doesn’t make any real sense ; Percy’s just thrilled to hear someone else gets to deal with a prophecy and he can just kick back and have some fun. 

[megabadbunny]

Star Wars ramble

I have thoughts about the new Star Wars, and this is where I shall barf them out. Spoilers ahead!

Holy hell this movie is a mixed bag. There were things I utterly adored, and things I absofuckinglutely hated. I saw the movie at a preview screening Thursday night and it has seriously taken me the last four days to really parse through stuff in my head, because this bag is so mixed, it’s like the overturned candy bucket of an overenthusiastic trick-or-treater whose neighborhood contains the best of the best and the bottom-of-the-barrel-est of the worst. In short, as far as I’m concerned, The Last Jedi is brimming with full-size Snickers bars and stale candy corn alike.

First, I wanna start out with some pros (gimme those sweet sweet Reese cups and boxes o’ Nerds, pleez!):

- ALL THE LEIA. Every single bit of Leia. 

- And no, it’s not just nostalgia/grief/rose-tinted glasses coloring my view here. Her character is just so excellent. Was her floating-through-space thing super cheesy? It sure fucking was, and I fucking loved every cheesy-ass second of it, because how fucking awesome is that??? Getting to see Leia use the Force in the weirdest, magical-est of ways?? Especially because, given Carrie Fisher’s passing, I was afraid they might have to cut Leia’s part short in the movie, so for a few minutes, I genuinely thought she might have been dead during the space battle. So seeing her come back just flooded me with happiness--and seeing her come back using the Force, surviving the motherfucking vacuum of space using the Force, was just one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen onscreen.

- Also, goddamn, Carrie Fisher’s acting is underrated. The moments where she could sense her son’s presence, the exchange with Luke, just, gah. All so beautifully done. And watching her butt heads with Poe was so satisfying. AND SEEING HER WITH A BLASTER AGAIN??? BE STILL MY FRANTICALLY HAMMERING NERDY HEART.

- Luke’s character arc in this was brilliant. Depressing? Yep. Heartbreaking? You betcha. But brilliant. I can definitely see why Mark Hamill took issue with it. All of our previous exposure to Luke (in the films, anyway) has shown us someone full of optimism, positive to the point of recklessness, brash and impulsive but caring and dedicated and overall committed to making the galaxy a better place. So to see him so bitter and closed-off--it hurt. But it also made sense. A person can only take so much heartbreak and pain and failure before they seal themselves off. And his return to form at the end of the movie was so much sweeter. I won’t lie, in many ways, I would have preferred things to have gone differently for the Skywalker family--not that everything has to be peaches and roses and sunshine all the time, but it feels like JJ Abrams and Rian Johnson might have shat on the Skywalkers a bit more than necessary for the sake of making things *~*dark*~* or *~*edgy*~* or *~*gritty*~*, a la Rowling in the seventh Harry Potter. But more on that later...and in the meantime, given the circumstances, I very much appreciated Luke’s portrayal.

- The Luke and Yoda parallels, I love them. 

- I appreciated seeing repercussions for the brash actions of certain characters, particularly Poe. I really liked Poe in this movie, and I really enjoyed seeing him be both right and horribly horribly wrong, since so many movies tend to idolize that type of character. It was refreshing for the movie to acknowledge the death toll involved in harebrained schemes gone wrong. It’s really easy to overlook the casualties of unnamed background characters in any war movie, but especially fantasy war movies; this movie didn’t shy away from letting us know that war is not glamorous, people do die, and it all takes a toll. I was deeply appreciative that Poe really took some of Holdo’s stuff to heart near the end of the movie.

And now, some cons, i.e., root beer barrels and Hubba Bubba gum:

- Gonna get the biggest one out of the way right upfront: The fuck is up with Rey’s parentage reveal. The actual fuck. Don’t get me wrong: I appreciate, in many ways, that this is a broadening of the Star Wars universe, and that the entire Star Wars universe does not revolve around the Skywalkers. I don’t have a problem with that. I have a problem with what feels like a bait-and-switch pulled by Rian Johnson. It really feels like TFA set things up to reveal that Rey was Luke’s kid--see this post for more on that, if you wanna go full nerd (and I doooooo), but long story short, why bother with Maz’s line about how the lightsaber was Luke’s, and his father’s before him, and “now it calls to you,” why when Rey touched the lightsaber would she have visions about events for which this particular lightsaber was not present, why have the TFA trailer voiceover with Luke saying “The Force runs strong in my family, my father has it, I have it, my sister has it, you have that power too,” why all the parallels between Anakin and Luke and Rey, why why why? Why show Rey’s memories of her family leaving interspersed with visions of Luke’s personal trauma? Why show her family leaving the planet only to reveal that they apparently drank themselves to death right on Jakku?

Rian Johnson claims he wants to subvert tropes and expectations, and while I can respect that, there’s a huge difference between subverting audience expectations and flat-out lying to your audience. At worst, he’s guilty of the latter; at best, he’s guilty of some very poorly-planned and lazy writing.

I know I have read before that originally, JJ Abrams was going to reveal Rey’s parentage in TFA but Rian Johnson asked him not to, and between that and bits of the TFA screenplay (”He looks at Rey. A kindness in his eyes, but there's something tortured, too. He doesn't need to ask her who she is, or what she is doing here. His look says it all”) and the fact that Daisy Ridley thought “it was obvious” and “the question was already answered” in TFA, not to mention that Rian Johnson talks about “making a choice” re: Rey’s parents--long story short, I would not be surprised to find out that JJ Abrams had originally planned to reveal that Rey was Luke’s daughter, but Rian asked him not to so he could pursue his own agenda. It just feels like a move worthy of Moffat-- “Ha ha, you thought this one thing because I all-but-explicitly said it was so, but actually, nope! Here’s something else! Ha ha!”

Like, Luke’s projection at the end of the film? That’s actually a great example of the subversion of audience expectations. We assume that Luke is actually there in-person, because why wouldn’t we? But hindsight shows viewers that the film actually contains a fair bit of precedent, hints, and setup for Luke to project his presence rather than show up in-person; for one thing, this isn’t the first time we’ve seen Force-projection in the film. For another thing, Luke says in the film, repeatedly, that nothing Rey can say or do will get him to leave his island, and it ends up being technically true (whoo foreshadowing). Then there’s the matter of how he looks different than he has for the majority of the film, and how his boots don’t leave imprints on the planet surface like everyone else’s.

Does the film want us to assume that Luke is there in-person? Yep! Is the film playing on our own presumptions and expectations and letting our brains fill in the blanks, even if they do it incorrectly? Sure is! But does the film lie to us? No. The clues are there, even if you don’t know to look for them on first watch. This subversion is earned. But this same well-crafted storytelling is simply nowhere to be seen as far as the reveal of Rey’s parentage is concerned. 

I’m sure some will argue that stuff like Rey’s weird endless-mirror-thing on the island offers enough hints that her parents are nobodies (showing her only herself when she asks about her family), that the film isn’t lying or retconning stuff from TFA. But for a film that relies so heavily on its predecessor in some ways, picking up literal moments, it seems, after the end of TFA, The Last Jedi just doesn’t seem all that interested in furthering a lot of TFA’s plot points. Who’s Snoke? Who cares! Finn and Rey have an intriguing and compelling relationship? Let’s put that on the backburner and introduce an entirely new person instead. Remember all the things in TFA that suggest a connection between Luke and Rey, whether familial or not? How’s about we give literally zero shits about that personal connection, at all, and pursue one between Rey and Kylo Ren instead? Let’s just drop a whole bunch of shit from the first movie, then come in with a battering-ram and say, “Oh, by the way, this thing isn’t what you thought it was. Psych!” 

Long story short, it would have been different if the deep Force connection between Luke and Rey had been explored in TLJ, to the point where you could tell that Rey is genuinely starting to wonder if Luke could actually be her father. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for her to wonder that, given the circumstances! But if you had tiny hints and foreshadowings sprinkled throughout, suggesting that maybe, possibly, she’s not from this famous, important family after all, no matter how desperately she wishes it--imagine, growing up thinking you’re nobody, and then realizing you could be the ultimate somebody!--then the final revelation that her parents aren’t just no-names, they’re despicable shitheads who sold their daughter for drinking-money--that would be absolutely crushing. As it is, it’s just sort of frustrating. The movie had ample opportunity to tie in her attachment to Luke with her familial issues; finding out that Luke isn’t her father, that they’re not family, would be a powerful potential breaking point for her. Especially if, at some point near the end of the film, Rey realizes that her garbage biological family doesn’t matter--it’s the family she has chosen for herself, Luke and Leia and particularly Finn, that’s important.

I’m not saying Rey has to be a Skywalker--I’m saying that the movie did a very bad job revealing the fact that she isn’t. The setup makes for a very unsatisfying payoff, not to mention it kind of feels like the audience was lied to. It feels like Rian Johnson sacrificed storytelling for the sake of putting his own *~*dark*~*~ and *~*~gritty*~*~* and *~*~*realistic*~*~* spin on the Star Wars story. To me (and I’m sure to many others), this revelation did not feel earned, but rather slapped on.

- Not a huuuge fan of the gritty grimdark trend, especially not a huge fan of it in Star Wars. Does the Star Wars saga as a whole have its dark moments? Certainly, and most of them are well-earned. But the whole “Look, another Vader” + Luke’s self-imposed exile + Han and Leia’s separation + Han’s death + the dissolution of the Rebellion/Resistance + being sent right back to square one with the Empire, mark II + Rey’s even-more-tragic-than-we-initially-believed backstory all starts to feel like a bit much after a while. Like “Look how dark and depressing we are, look how edgy, look how subversive.” In an age where the cinema seems obsessed with ultragrittygrimdark stuff and unfettered cynicism, this is not subversive or new; this is part of the new status quo.

- STOP SAYING THE WORD “HOPE” IT’S LOSING ALL MEANING DEAR SWEET BABY JEBUS

Mmmkay back to some Skittles-pros, because those cons were rough and now it’s good candy time again:

- Finn exists in this movie. And I luff him. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh <3 <3 <3

- LIGHTSABER FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHTS ermergerd the lightsaber fiiiiiiiiiiiights

- Super fun aerial battles, woot woot

- Kylo’s character development is sooo interesting. I enjoy how on one hand he’s a petty entitled manbaby, but on the other hand, that unbridled rage makes him super unstable and kind of terrifying??? Like even to the point of just slaughtering the fuck out of his Master? Like holy shit dude, you need some therapy like nobody’s business. I waffled on whether I trusted Kylo--which makes sense, given that Kylo himself doesn’t seem entirely certain of his affiliations, except that he’s ultimately looking out for No. 1. The movie did a great job of making me very curious to see where they’ll take Kylo next!

- Rose is adorable and I really loved watching her geek out at the beginning of the movie. And her sister’s death, and her response to it, was just heartbreaking.

And now back to the cons, aka toothbrushes and pennies:

- The casino planet was kind of cool to look at, but ultimately a waste of time. Like a huge waste of time. Cut the casino and Del Toro’s character out of the movie and barely anything is affected. 

- The whole “It’s salt” bit. Why does it matter. Why did this need to be pointed out. Was Disney afraid people would think the red stuff was blood...? Also why did the guy feel compelled to put dirt/salt in his mouth. People’s shoes have been there. Dat’s nasty. 

- The movie did Phasma dirty. Both movies did. Again, you could have taken Phasma out of both films and it wouldn’t really have made much of a difference. Phasma is like the Boba Fett of this trilogy, except even less impactful, somehow??? Which is just a shame because she’s so fucking cool! Not to mention the only real female villain in the Star Wars filmverse! as;dlkfja;oseirja;weoraie;jr

Some more treats, perhaps?

- Yoda’s scene really got me. At first I was a little iffy, but as it went on, I liked it more and more. And his message about learning from failure was just particularly poignant. And I’m so glad they used puppet-Yoda. I don’t care if you can tell it’s a puppet. It still looks a hundred times better than full-CG-Yoda. :P

- As always, the music is wonderful--but I feel like that goes without saying! It’s John Williams, of course it’s wonderful!

- Also as always, the production design is just so frikkin’ good. The costumes, the sets, the ships, and a much better blend of animatronics/models + CG than we’ve seen just about anywhere else in recent years. Everyone on the creative team did a fabulous job of bringing new ideas to the table while also making it still feel like this is all set in the same galaxy that we first saw and fell in love with in the original trilogy. Also thank you to the costume designer for not giving Leia Dracula-butt-shaped hair in this movie. <3

Another stick or two:

- Why the hint of romance between Finn and Rose...? Why the kiss...? They’ve known each other for literally less than a day, why are they talking about love and kissing on the mouth????

- Is it just me or did Chewie kind of get sidelined...? Like completely...? And why is it necessary to suspend Leia in a coma for a goodly chunk of the movie? This movie suffers from multiple instances of “characters can’t or won’t reveal their plans or thoughts to others, mostly for highly contrived reasons if reasons are even given at all, so a bunch of dumbfuck misunderstandings ensue that could and should have easily been resolved, all because we took the easy/lazy way out,” and, bleh. Lazy writing.

- Too many new characters dividing our attention and investment. Del Toro’s character should have been removed and Rose should have been our code-breaker; Holdo’s character traits and actions should have been split up between Leia and Poe. (Not that I want to see Poe die, but in a film with such strong themes of failure, loss, and learning, it would have been more impactful and made more sense for Poe to learn from his earlier recklessness and sacrifice himself rather than endanger others, as opposed to a one-off character we didn’t have any time or inclination to emotionally invest in.) A movie is like a pie; the more characters who take a slice, the smaller each slice is, and characters like Leia, Finn, Rose, and Chewie all deserved bigger pieces than they got, dammit.

- Seriously why the fuck didn’t Holdo just tell Poe what she was planning???? The mutiny side plot was interesting, I guess, but mostly it just seemed like her character--for all that she was actually highly intelligent--was suddenly too stupid to realize that you can’t effectively execute a plan if your officers don’t know what that fucking plan is.

- Friend-spouse said this film gave very little payoff for anything set up in the first; work-spouse said this film’s dialogue was written like that of a comic book; spouse-spouse said this film reminded him of Return of the Jedi, in that it has some of his very favorite moments in the series, and some of his very least favorite. I am tempted to agree with all of the spouses.

- Overall this movie almost feels like a filler episode in a TV series. A few things happen to push the story forward--Luke, Kylo, and Poe’s character development, for example--but so much stuff just sort of seemed to happen for the sake of happening, and could have been trimmed, if not excised completely, to make for a stronger movie.

And to end the post on a positive note:

- Luke’s moments of punking his nephew/generally being a sassy bitch = amazeballs

-  DAT JUMP TO HYPERSPACE RIGHT THRU THE ENEMY SHIP THOUGH as;dlkfjasofijASLEIRJWOEIRJEORIlskdjfaoierjw;aeorijLASJIEFORIWEJ ER MER GERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD

- Stupid cute adorable Porgs, arrrrrgh, we hates them, precious, yes we do

And that’s it! I definitely want to watch it again, will for sure own it, certainly enjoyed it more than Rogue One. But yeah, not gonna lie: I’m actually looking forward to JJ Abrams’ return for Ep IX.

[howtohero]

#058 Choosing a Team

Some heroes are highly sought after by multiple teams and don’t have to engage in any almost-villain-like scheming and scamming. Which is great. If you’re going to be a hero, you should always strive to do things in ways that don’t require any almost-villain-like scheming and scamming. These guys are essentially showered with invitations from the most glamorous superhero teams on the planet and beyond. Sometimes even teams from other universes will pop in to try to snag them. Sometimes teams will travel through time from the future just to invite them onto their team. These guys are so beloved. It’s gross. They’re taken out to fancy meals, taken to intergalactic sporting events, even given a company invisible jet to fly around for a bit. But then how does one finally choose a team to join?

Well the first thing you have to decide is whether you even really want to join a team at all. When you join a team you’re submitting yourself to play by somebody else’s rules (some teams have rules like “any weird rocks you find on the ground are automatically the property of the whole team” and that’s not a rule I can get behind). You’re suddenly on somebody else’s schedule and other people are depending on you to hold up your end of the deal. It’s kind of like a group project for school. If you don’t do what you’re supposed to do the whole group will fail except in this case the whole group failing really means that the whole world is destroyed. So if you’re not willing or able to function as a member of a team it’s probably best that you don’t join one for a while.

If you do decide to join a team you have to take a careful look at each team that’s extending an invitation. Some important questions to ask of yourself and of the teams are as follows.

Where is the team stationed? If the team is stationed far away such as in the middle of Antarctica or a moon, that might disrupt your secret identity life. You’ll have to be able to explain away long absences and why you never seem to have any cellphone reception. Some teams are located in really nice, in-demand spots like Hawaii (though if you’re going to join a team just for the Hawaii location you should know that superheroes in Hawaii are America’s first defense against any giant kaiju monsters that escape from Japan). If you not thrilled about having such a long commute, try seeing if there are any superhero teams located closer to home (you will have more luck finding a superhero team in your town if you live in an especially crime-ridden city or if your city is frequently invaded by aliens and nobody knows why). 

Does the team have teleporter access? This ties in to the issue above, if a team has teleporters then the commute is no longer a problem. Plus, you can probably use them even when you’re not working which is a sick perk. Just make sure that you remember that your entire body needs to be within the teleport chamber before you hit the teleport button for the machine to function properly. Always remember that. You don’t want to end up like Half-Face McGee.

Do you have any friends on the team? Now, obviously you shouldn’t pick your team solely based on where all your friends are. Sometimes what’s right for your friend isn’t necessarily what’s right for you. Still, having a friend with you can make joining a team a little less scary and a friend is often somebody who you’ve already fought alongside and have good chemistry with. This is a huge asset because it will make both of you more effective in the field. You can probably even use this to convince whichever team to extend an invitation to one of your friends as well.

How many Omega Class Threats has this team antagonized? Omega Class Threats are the planet eaters and the alien warlords and the time traveling conquerors and such, the bad guys who trigger major worldwide team-ups and who even the regular bad guys think are a bit much. Often these bad guys will remember who caused their downfall and when they come back they’ll be specifically gunning for those people. So you’re going to want to avoid joining any teams with a history of pissing off Omega Classers (or as I like to call them, Omegsters), that’s just opening yourself up to major risk.

Does this team provide room for growth? Obviously you’re going to be entering this team on the ground floor. You’ll be the rookie, people will call you things like “newbie’ or “the kid” or just straight up get your name wrong (sometimes people will even do this on purpose to put you in your place, rude). But all of that will be worth it if you can eventually climb up the ranks of the team until you become a respected member and even a trainer or mentor for newer, younger members. You’ll have to look at each team’s roster history to see which teams provide opportunities for promotion and which teams have a low turnover of administrative staff. (And which teams have a high mortality rate for leaders.)

Is the team actually secretly a bunch of supervillains who are only disguised as heroes as part of some sort of nefarious plot? Some superhero teams are actually fronts for evil organizations who seek only to cause chaos and harm to an unsuspecting populace. You’ll need to make sure the team you’re joining is not one of these. Or, if you discover that they are, you can go undercover and become a superhero pretending to be a supervillain pretending to be a superhero and then destroy the evil team from within. A good way to check if a team is actually full of secret supervillains is to tell a funny joke at your interview. One that’s sure to make everybody laugh. You can always tell if somebody is a supervillain by their laugh.

Is there a documentary crew that follows around all the members of the team hoping to catch them in candid moments? If so, you’d better start working on those snappy one liners. And you should definitely practice deflecting questions during talking head interviews. A lot of superhero knowledge is either classified or shouldn’t be revealed to the public in a talking head interview for a college film class assignment.

Does the team do random drug tests? Some superheroes use steroids, super-serums, spinach or other performance enhancing drugs in order to perform feats of heroism (remember, you can’t spell “hey there’s a superhero in here who’s ready to save the day” without “heroin”). It’s important to know a team’s policy towards these kinds of heroes before joining up. (See we could’ve just said “superheroine” but we don’t go for the easy jokes here at Howtohero. We’re real dedicated over here. You’re goddamn welcome!)

Will one of the people on the team devise a convoluted way to kill you in case you ever turn evil? Some teams have a resident dude whose job is to plan for every single possible scenario and these guys love coming up with incredibly over the top ways to kill their teammates. You should try to avoid joining these teams. Because what if that guy turns evil? Then he (or she!) just gets to kill you? That seems unfair. Or what if their plans get stolen? Then anybody just gets to kill you? Or what if you decide to become evil one day? Now somebody just gets to kill you??? Nah, best to avoid all that.

Even if none of the teams who have thus far invited you to join conform to all of your needs or desires you can leverage the invitations of other teams to try to get an invitation out of the one you really want. Play the field. Scheme and scam a little bit to get the exact team you want. But not in the nigh-villainous ways we outlined a few weeks ago. Scheme and scam heroically. For the betterment of mankind. Yeah.

[macabrecabra]

I saw this dad Reyes and little son McCree prompt somewhere, but forgot where…the prompt is like this: little McCree is a master when it comes to hide and seek because he always had to hide from other Deadlock members, and every time he plays hide and seek with some other agents, Gabe literally has to pull a full scale search and rescue team, and Jesse would be found in the close, 7 feet off the ground or something.

This prompt sounds so familiar XD; I'malmost sure I wrote a prompt about hide-and-go-seek king McCreebefore 8I;  That or all these little McCree prompts are blending intoone . ___.

For anon!

Title: Hide-And-Go-SeekRating:GRelationship: Dad Gabriel and his little cowboy son McCree

Putting a tracker on McCree more orless would solve this entire issue and Gabriel knew that. If he justhad McCree bugged with something on his clothes that would just leadhim to where the boy was and he wouldn't have to bring Blackwatch to ascreeching halt and organize a full scale game of hide-and-go-seek.

This time he really, really needed toremember to do that when he found the kid.

“Any sign of him?” Gabriel grumbledinto the com unit as he prowled down another hallways looking leftand right.“Nothing in the cafeteria and before you ask, yesI was thorough,” Jack responded, “I looked everywhere from on topthe fridge and buried in the pans. Every place that was big enough tofit a six year old even if it seemed impossible for a child to getthere,”“You know Gabe, if you just put a bell on him orsomething, this would be a lot easier,” Ana teased idly, “Andnothing on my end. My team has finished a sweep of the grounds withno luck. Not sure how Reinhardt and his group are fairing,”Gabrielfrowned just a bit, mentally checking off locations in his head, “Andnothing in the crew quarters and yes Ana, I know. Even with a bell onthough I bet the kid could pull of a goddamn vanishing act,”“Whydoes he hide like this anyways?” Jack asked, “Not like there isany reason for it,”“Old habit I guess having to hide fromthe gang with whatever scraps of food he managed to grab,” Gabriellet out a sigh.

That was the one reason he couldn't becomplete mad at McCree. It wasn't like the boy was being maliciousabout his hiding or doing it for fun. He did it because it was morethan a game at times for him. Just sometimes Gabriel wish it was justa little bit easier to find Jesse and that finding the boydidn't require himgetting all of Overwatch's staff involved in the manhunt.

Gabriel's musings though came to ahalt as  a small sound reached his ears. A faint shuffling sound likesomeone on their hands and knees moving about, being as stealthy asthey could. If the entire hallway hadn't been dead silent, Gabrielwouldn't have even noticed the faint noise.

He quickly went still, eyes narrowingas he strained to hear where the noise was coming from and try topinpoint where it was originating from. His gut instinct washollering at him that it was Jesse. There was no doubt in his mindthat the shuffling sneak he was picking up on was the pint-sizedcowboy in his newest least expected hidey hole.

The sound though was so faint and inthe hallways it echoed strangely, making it sound like it was comingout of every vent along the way. Carefully Gabriel began to move forward, walking from toe to heel to soften his footfall and pausingat every vent screen to listen.  It was honestly surprising Jesse hadgotten into the vents in the first place. Not like the boy could getthe screws off a vent with one of his bulky fake toy screwdrivers andGabriel sure as hell didn't let the boy play with any real tools.

Not only that, but to go this far inthe vents without issue like he was born to sneak around in them wasa surprise as well. Most kids his age would probably be wailing inthe dark and giving themselves away. Either Jesse was putting on abrave face or he was just a fearless, reckless kindergartner on amission to never be found, lost off on his own adventures into themost unknown parts of Overwatch.

That adventure though was about tocome to an end. Gabriel finally came to a pause at one vent, hearingthe shuffling loud and clear and it was only growing louder meaningJesse was nearly to this vent. Carefully, the commander of Blackwatchpulled out his pocket knife and with relative ease jiggled the screwsout of the top of the vent carefully, keeping one hand on the top tokeep it from falling open just yet. It was an old trick he hadlearned during his training, one of those secret agent tricks thatwas not as glamorous as the movies would make it seem.

He waited patiently, every musclein his body on edge as the shuffling grew closer. As soon as he sawthe brim of the cowboy hat slowly come into view, he lunged,droppingthe vent casing and grabbing onto Jesse. The boy let out a shriek andbegan to squirm, griping onto the side of the vent with a death gripas Gabriel tried to tug him out. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Iwas coming right back!” Jesse shrieked, flailing about, “I'll begood next time I swear! Don't ground me!”

“Ground you? Jesse, when have I everdone that?” Gabriel snapped as he kept his grip on the squirmingboy, “What I want to know is why you thought it funny to hide forso long!”

Jesse let out a distressed whine,giving up on his fight and not more or less slumping over like a deadweight,shaking his head and refusing any answer.  Gabriel bit backthe sigh that wanted to escape him, instead opting to just pick upJesse and holding him up, wrinkling his nose a bit at the musty smellof dust now clinging to the boy. “And you are going to needa bath after crawling through god knows what in those vents,” Thatstatement earned another whine from Jesse as he pouted, shaking hishead. “I like being dirty! Boys are dirty  and I'm a boy!Hygiene is for girls!” Jesse protested.

“Hygiene is for kids who want to havedessert tonight,” Gabriel corrected, eyes narrowing. Thatcaused Jesse to pause for a moment, pursing his lips thoughtfully ashis expression became conflicted. A few seconds passed beforeinevitably the desire for sweets and ice cream overcame the need toprofuse his “manliness” by being filthy and he at length, gave asmall nod.“Only if I get extra ice cream,” Jessehuffed.“We will see if you do after you decided tobe naughty and hide from me,” Gabriel grumbled before moving tothumb his radio, “Located Jesse. Okay but a little ball of dirt anddust,”“Most excellent news!” Came Reinhardt's boomingvoice, “Another successful hunt!”

Ana chuckled over the com and Gabrielcould just see her shaking her head, “That it is. Now Gabe,remember, put a bell on the kid, yes?”

“Yeah yeah. Going to give him a bathand then be back at the meeting. Gabriel out,”  he turned hisattention now back to the boy still in his grip, staring at him withwide eyes expectantly.  The commander of Blackwatch gaveJesse a faint smile before heading towards the bathroom, “Come oncowboy. Time for you to become a sea cowboy,”

“Bleh,” Jesse grumbled, sticking outhis tongue in displeasure.Gabriel could only chuckle at thesight. He was just glad the boy was safe and sound again.

[thegnasticious]

Barnstock

The General was well known amongst his men. His men being a conglomerate of drop-outs, criminals, former war vets, and generally displaced people. Some viewed as a saint, some as a martyr, and some even thought of him as a fake. Today he sits in his aging cloth throne watching the flicks of an old television. Something seems to have bothered him though, particularly in the WVN Networks news broadcast. A report from I-66 showed a car that caused a pile-up overnight, the car had hit something the size of about a deer at full speed, it flipped over the car in a lo-fi phone filmed video. In the video broadcasted you see it flip at least 3-5 times whilst the car careens into oncoming traffic. Then it gets up and runs away, completely unscathed. The TV flickered a bit at the end of the broadcast. The General then un-pinned his medal of honor and looked at it in a trance-like state. He then looked up at his TV to see himself, about 20 years younger in the jungles of Vietnam. 

At that time it was Lance (soon to be The General), Corporal Johnson, Lance Corporal Blackball (that’s what they called him), Rifleman Davis, and Squidchewer. They all got drafted from the boredom of suburban homes, other then Squidchewer, he beat a guy up real bad and it was either prison or the service, so I guess he took the latter. They were a late deployment, and most of the napalm had well burned out by the time they arrived an vietnamese soil. Many of them came with the expectations of an organized battle, more glamorized in Hollywood renditions of jungle battles, The reality was quite the opposite. We were a specialized unit, so we didn’t see alot of the full frontal combat. In the case of Vietnam we came by the time most of the corpses were burning, the decrepit smell of flesh putrefying the air. You could find piles of arms, Children, Men, Women, all failed inoculations. The war you saw at home was much different, it was the guns and explosions, but not the blood and gore that followed that. My job was to capture this, as hard as it might be, and make sure The General’s mission was followed through. I had 3 or so Nikkon cameras fitted with different lenses, they were standard issue for the operation. My codename was and still is, Stryker. I got to know the General very personally on this operation. He was a man of his job and duty, but if you crossed him in the wrong way, he had no problem blowing a gun off right next to your ear to ring you out for a bit. He had done it to me a few times after deployment, I would always smart mouth his patriotic rhetoric in some odd way, and it would end with a gun going off right besides my head. At night, when we’d sit around the fire, he finally let out a bit of details about the operation.

“You know we ain’t here to kill gooks”,

“What are you talkin’ about Lance?”, I said to him.

“The gooks are all dead, not one bullet by fired of any of you. What do you suppose we’re here for, a jungle adventure? There ain’t nothing to clean up. What they have us hunting my friend, is an evil deep in the forest. You see all this death and blood and burning. Who the fuck do you think cleans it up and shuts it up? Us. And we don’t even get informed that’s what we’re doing here. These old temples we’re burning, they have demons deep in the wood. I thought it was funny, but I was deployed around Kwai before all of you were even in basic. They outfit you boys with cameras because the war is over, the only thing left to catch around hear is a glimpse of a ghost that’ll be turning one of our boys to the VC. Oh it starts with a minor disagreement with the abiding power then it ends one night in your sleep by the hands of someone you thought you could trust. Dragons and shit, I tell you, it’s a lack of patriotism, a lack of understanding most parent’s beat into their children, but you just got a few rotten eggs”, The General said.

I nodded in agreement, but that was just to avoid argument. He seemed to know more than me and I would not stand a chance against him. You could tell he was a man of power, and keeping his men in line was of the utmost importance, the slightest dissidence towards him would be routed right away. In my heart I knew though, he lived by his gun and man like him should, but when the time came that I would have to kill, I would have to do it with my heart, I was not ready like him to do it with my head. He would work the killing before it was even in front of him. It was like he was always 2 steps ahead of everyone else.

So what frightened him so, 20 years after the war on an old TV? In his own words years after the war. He explained that one night these demons possessed him. The day before he was reported to have been in an argument with Squidchewer, I heard parts of it whilst I was fishing nearby. 

“I don’t like this ‘Where the red fern grows’ shit you’re pulling Lance. We know you know why were here. That story you keep telling about your old dog, being the howling we hear. What the fuck is that howling really Lance? Every goddamned night”, Squid said.

“I tell you guys the story of ‘Where the red fern grows’ every fucking night to keep you calm. But you know what, that story of my old dog’s ghost following me around, that’s a damn true story. And I’ll tell you what it’s what put me in this damn service. Parents told everyone I ingested chemicals and I put my dog down with my daddy’s pistol. That’s not the case, the bastard near broke my hand, pulling my finger to the trigger so I could see that dog’s brains splattered out on the wall. And ever since that damn dogs spirit comes back as a demon, I’ll be damned if the day my Daddy’s truck was flipped and his head smashed in, that there was one of those damn dogs fixed to his grill. I saw the scene, he hit something, but nobody saw or said, it left before it could be reported. I even had this foolish thought we were all here to find that exact demon, because something told me it was just that, Simon. I called him”, Lance responded.

“I’ll tell you what, since we got off the boat, I think you’re losing it Lance. Day by day you’re getting worse, and when you fully believe we’re hunting your dead dog’s ghost, I’ll be leading this company, because you’ll be bat-shit crazy”, Squid said and smiled and Lance. Lance did not return the expression, and fixed his gaze on him like a hawk as he walked away. 

The next morning we awoke to the warm Vietnam sun. As we exited our tents, a horrifying sight was strung out in the tree above. Squidchewer was hung from a tree. Somebody had hacked at him a few times with a machete so blood was splattered about. The cuts were to the bone, and his face was frozen in a horrible expression of terror. I did unfortunately take a picture of it that would be more recognized than any of my other work. Lance had left without a word to any of us and we lost our leader. From that point on, I made a solemn swear to myself, that I would find the truth, and I would find Lance. Try as I might, throughout the war, I never did find him. It wasn’t until long after the war I found him, a now promoted General living in the forests of Colorado. Supposedly still on a government operation. I found him with the help of a government friend, and some deep searches in databases. Lance Parsons was as he was now listed.

I walked through the screen door of his house to find him, sitting, looking at his war medals, and crying. 

“I knew you’d come, the TV told me. It’s the only thing that talks much to me, these days, you want the end of the story I’d assume. The one with ‘the red fern’. Well, the boy puts the dogs down. But the one I was trying to tell you was a different fern. The fern I read, had a dog which came back. It’s furless corpse growing from the soil from the care and love which lead it to life. This thing is not a fable, it can kill men, and some men, they don’t even know it’s their pet. It comes when they are unconscious and fills itself with the flesh of your friends and loved ones. My father was the only one who was honest. You just have to shoot the damn thing, you can’t think about why. Otherwise it grows, and you have accidents like the one on I-66. Squidchewer was an accident just like that, the man was doing acid out in Vietnam, and that LSD it attracts those suckers in droves. I saved our whole company that night, but I had to put Squidchewer down. I woke up with his pistol to my head, it was sheer luck I pulled it back on him quick enough to defend myself. The work with the hanging and Machete was VC, as a sort of threat to you guys I’d assume”, The General said.

“Why wouldn’t they of killed us then and why did you leave?”, I asked.

“Fucking gooks. Who knows? I had it with the company long before someone in it threatened my life. I figured it was a mutiny, so I wanted out as quick and silently as possible. I was on other orders from the start. Usually it’s not so sloppy, we’d get a boy like Squid where he needed to be, slipped the dose then let the rest play out, but that night when those things came. Well they work like a parasite to host, if I didn’t kill him they would of surely killed you boys by the morning. What concerns me now, is these things are back, and out here. It was the same thing in the news report, and I bet you can’t find that footage anywhere now as it was live”, he said.

“So what are you doing now?”, I asked.

“I’m still hunting those fuckers. Just like before. I try to go into retirement then there is always some damn story of another Ungatu as I call them. Nobody knows how to hunt them, But just like with Squid, I do. I host this event where we get alot of the teenagers, about the age you and I were drafted, to micro-dose. but the trip is, is that they are all pre-selected for this event. So it’s basically completely legal and usually  a requirement to avoid jail-time or possible persecution. If we can save these kids, and we do, we do it mainly in the shadows now. Keeping things what they should be, American. That’s what I’ve always stood for. Thats why I run Barnstock, I have a whole team of specialists who not only bring in the goods but oversee the events from possibly becoming violent or volatile. Barnstock is at an actual Barn my family inherited, out somewhere in Dubuque, I keep the location undisclosed until I’m sure business is viable. Next week I’ll be skinning that fucker that caused the pile-up, already got it narrowed down to an Alex Horn who attracted that damn shadow in the first place. When he gets there, we’ll get some cute girls to suck him in, even offer the dose for free. 

The thing is, if he refuses, we’ll slash his tires, drain his battery, make sure that he remembers that night and the nights to come. The smart ones come back at that point.

All of this is to thank the glory of social media. Oh how modern Vietnam looks through an internet browser”