#his greatest look of all time he is so kind and wise and endearing looking here

[brainbaring]

I fucking love you Mikhail Belomlinsky Gandalf design

[grigori77]

Donald Sutherland, R.I.P.

It's another dark day as I discover that another of the wonderful actors whose work I've loved for ABSOLUTELY YEARS has been taken from us. To me, he was always one of the great kind old men of Hollywood, even when he so consitently excelled at playing such wonderful villains, too ... as well as fathering another one of my very favourite actors, his son Kieffer.

Of course, to me, like a great many others who grew up in the 80s and 90s, he was MOST OF ALL the original Hawkeye, in the original movie of M.A.S.H. ... that being said, even today, my very FAVOURITE role he ever played is STILL that of the dlightfully bizarre "hippie" tank commander Oddball in Clint Eastwood's singularly AWESOME WWII action comedy Kelly's Heroes ...

He's been a regular fixture in a great many of my favourite movies over the years, either leading the cast in a variety of interesting and instantly memorable roles in the likes of the best the Invasion of the Body Snatchers movies, Don't Look Now, Klute and The First Great Train Robbery, or providing stellar support in the likes of The Dirty Dozen, The Eagle Has Landed, JFK, Backdraft, Six Degrees of Seperation, Outbreak, A Time To Kill, Space Cowboys (a criminally underrated Clint Eastwood flick, in my opinion), Cold Mountain, Pride & Prejudice and Ad Astra ...

And then, of course, there was, OF COURSE, the role he's probably going to be most well-remembered for in the years ahead, simply due to its sheer popularity - the very best of his pure villainous turns, the monstrous but SPECTACULARLY charismatic President Coriolanus Snow the cinematic adaptation of Suzanne Collins' wildly successful The Hunger Games. The man gave us all endearing CHILLS throughout playing a man who couldn't possibly have been further from who he was in real life, an effortless indication of the vastness of his talent.

So raise a glass and drink with me to the memory of one of cinema's true master elder statesmen, truly one of the greatest actors of his entire generation, and a truly singular talent whose immense star power will be fondly remembered for many years to come ... not to mention one truly wise, compassionate and remarkable human being.

DONALD SUTHERLAND (17 July 1935 - 20 July 2024) ... Rest in peace.

[seiwas]

The people want to hear model/actress Sel lore 🙈

omg sera 🥺🫣 i am so awfully shy 😳

model/actress sel lore is really just me doing a bit of theatre at the start, and eventually taking an interest in movies (just to see what it’s like and how different it would be!) in all honesty, i’m a lot more interested in the behind-the-scenes of it all 🥹

i start out doing a few indie films, then eventually get casted as one of the side characters for a more mainstream film 🥹 along with that comes everything else—the press junkets, endorsements, some photoshoots here and there (which is really where i meet gojo for the first time—he started out as a model)

(my favourite part is having the long-form interviews though, podcast style—the ones that i can expound more on what to say 🥺 as i get more experienced, i make my own podcast centered around the behind the scenes of filmmaking 🥺)

i meet gojo in one of those hallmark, holiday-special type of movies—the ones with many couples slated for either valentines day or christmas or new years 🥹 (it’s really just a cash grab with all the box office names on it 😭) but!!! it’s his first dip into acting and he just so unfortunately is paired w me 😭

i guess people liked us together because we got paired for more projects together, photoshoots included 🥹 he was a pain in my ass for the most of our initial projects 🥹 i gave him my personal phone number thinking he was a normal guy just looking for a friend, not expecting him to be the greatest pest and nuisance of my entire career 🥹 like. who texts u at 3am asking whether he should wear a coat or a bomber jacket + if u like ice cream, when u BOTH have a 5am calltime the next day 😭😭

ANYWAY. the actress sel lore is that we kind of become a romcom thing (unfortunately) and i eventually warm up to him because all things considered, he is pretty endearing when he wants to be. so i end up reciprocating his feelings (devastatingly). after gojo and i get together, i try to step away from mainstream for a while, choosing to challenge myself with projects that are a lot more complex character-wise, and more challenging film production wise (with limited budget and all). i learn a lot and eventually dip my toes into producing 🥹

somewhere along the way i do dabble into music!!! because i did start out with musical theatre, so my heart will always be with the melodies 🥹 i use a catchy one word name just to separate my two personas 🥹

that’s all i can think of rn but 🥹🥹🥹🥹 tysm for being so interested sera 🥹🥹🥹 i rambled on for a lot omg

[1dclicheficfest]

The time has come, my dears! We’ve compiled, organized and sorted your submissions and we’re ready to share them! We’ve had so much fun reading your clichés and we hope it’ll give you a good laugh.

Important disclaimer because it has to be said: we do not endorse any of the clichés submitted and these are not meant to spark Discourse™ . This is all in good fun, to spark your imagination and perhaps inspire some prompts!

Before we get to the fun part, don’t forget that prompt submissions open on February 1st and will run until March 28th. The full schedule can be found here.

And now, without further ado, here are your brilliant clichés.

HARRY

Green eyes

Huge eyes

Dimples

Always smirking

“The flirt”

Jobs: Works in a flower shop/Used to be a baker/Frat boy/LA socialite/Mermaid

“Quirky”

Clumsy/balance issues

Health nut/Workout junkie/Eats a lot of avocado and kale/loves yoga/gross green health smoothies

Very slow speech

Paints his nails

Beautiful long luscious curly hair

Long legs/large hands

Tall/large/big

Nudity/loves walking around starkers

Obsessed with being pregnant/babies

Kind to everyone

Bites his lip a lot

Tells terrible jokes/loves puns

Naive and oblivious

Clothing: Pearl necklace, Chelsea boots/gold boots/boots in general/Gucci everything/Flared, high-waisted trousers/’red and black sheer floral shirt with black skinny jeans’

Always unbuttons his shirt to show off tattoos

Baby seal laugh

Bad at driving

Hipster/takes artsy photos

Acting out for attention/Petty jealousy for no reason or because of a misunderstanding or when anyone comes near Louis

Bad dancer that gives it his all/makes awkward shapes with his limbs when trying to dance

Cat mom/Wine aunt

Resting bitch face

Rides a motorcycle

LIAM

Little clueless

Insecure

Louis is constantly messing with him

Roommates with Louis

Puppy/a lost puppy/puppy in human form/puppy eyes/puppy who doesn’t know how hot and strong he is/loves puppies

Manly muscle man/buff af/loves working out/sweet himbo beefcake

Bullied in the past

Giant heart/incredibly kind/soft/super loyal

Worry-wart/mother hen of the band/gets nervous when things don’t go to plan

Voice of reason/the responsible one/Daddy Direction/level-headed/most serious of the five/keeps the others grounded

Doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun

Lacking in experience/innocent about sex things

Oblivious to his feelings/other people’s feelings for him

Jobs: Firefighter/boxer/athlete

Super soft for Zayn

Protective

“Wants to cry as soon as Louis opens his mouth and doesn’t know if it’s because he’s scared, because it’s too funny, or because he just can’t handle any of it.”

Fear of spoons

Timid/

“being very shy/awkward in the beginning and then getting more confident because of Louis”

Snake habitat turn around!

Can’t spell

His turtle losing a foot

“Smelly pasta house”

Loves batman

Being alpha in ABOs

Unruly curly hair then trimmed to a crisp buzz

LOUIS

Blue eyes: ocean blue/blue as the sky on a sunny winter day/twinkle eyes

Arse and/or tummy as a defining feature

Sassy/sass master/feisty/snarky/cheeky/witty/playful/funny/sarcastic/joker

Flamboyant

Heart of gold/”Louis IS the sun”

“Does not suffer fools gladly (that’s your job you fooking loosah)”/hot-headed to pick fights only in defense of those he loves

Protective/Mama bear/loyal/Daddy of the group

Small/Dainty stature emphasized

Runs fingers through his fringe/hair always styled

Jobs: Footie player, teacher, drama teacher, actor, plays in a band

Loves music and writes songs

Plays footie (even if it’s not his job)

LOUD

Can’t cook/chicken wrapped in parma/”Can’t cook to save his life and if he does the kitchen ends up in flames”

Soft with Harry

School: Studying drama, being the bad boy, pop!punk Louis

Bratty/petty/snappy

Smoking

Zayn’s partner in crime

Rooms with Liam

Calls everyone ‘love’/uses too many terms of endearment

Yorkshire accent emphasized/always talks about Doncaster

Clothing: Vans or Adidas shoes/Toms/trackies/braces/red jeans/dressing in comfortable clothes only/no socks/scarf

Very good with kids/loves kids/family-oriented/looking after siblings/having a huge family

Eats junk food only

“The gay who cannot drive”

NIALL

Drinks a lot/Drinks everyone under the table because he’s Irish/Guinness lover/fun drunk/Will sing Gaelic folk songs when drunk/big social drinker-always making friends via alcohol/will kiss anyone when drunk

Food: Eats all the food/doesn’t season his food/loves Nando’s/”100% will take the last slice of pizza and not feel bad about it”/can and will eat you out of house and home/actually eats and cooks healthy but everyone thinks the opposite

Irish/Irish and proud/Wey Hey lads!/leprechaun Niall

Carefree/nothing bothers him

Romantic: falls fast and hard

Captain Niall!/Captain of the ship(s)

Music: guitar always present/Goes into the zone when he has an instrument in his hands - nothing will distract or get through to him/The Eagles fanboy/Damien Rice fanboy

Funny/always laughing/joking around/head back cackle of a laugh

Single/hooks up with a ton of people but no serious relationships/sleeps around/Serial Ladies man/Friends with benefits with multiple people at once/

Turns up the charm 100% and never half-asses it/”Scrunches his hair in thought and knows he looks cute doing so (like girls that purposefully bite their lip)”

Friends with literally everyone/has a thousand surface-level friends that think they’re close to him but keeps all at arm’s length/the greatest friend but also pickiest about who he becomes friends with

Clothing: Constantly shirtless/shorts over trousers/flip-flops as house shoes/gold chain/coin necklace/hoop earring/”golf dad that tucks in his shirts and unironically wears polos”

Obsessed with golf and football/practices his putt in the hallway with an empty loo roll

A bro

Secretly insightful/Tactless but gives essential advice as a result

Secretive/keeps his shit quiet/Definitely the guy with the most secrets

The blond one

Hairy chest

Worst poker face

Finger guns/peace signs

Blushes when he’s excited

Adores Shawn and Lewis

Cares a lot about what others think

Says no judgment but really judges a lot/judges you based on music taste

Rings in at 0 on the gaydar but could surprise you/the only het one

Tries to avoid conflict by remaining ‘on the fence’ and not picking a side

Always the roommate

Face mask selfies

Emotions rotate between sad, sexy, and fun - combination vary

Never a villain

Close with Harry

“Violent masturbating in the next room”

Constant pet names for everyone/”Even has pet names for his devices (like his vacuum robot”

ZAYN

Super smart/nerd/wise/The Ravenclaw

Smokes a lot

Secretly very soft/gentle/biggest heart/”His confidence and aloofness hide a sensitive heart of gold”/Bad boy secretly soft

Heart-eyes at Liam/Soft with Liam/”Lee-yum”

Mysterious eyes

Best friends with Louis

Jobs: Artist, tattoo artist, English teacher who loves art, works in comic book store,

Shy/withdrawn/mysterious/brooding best friend/quiet/”Seems intimidating until you realize he’s just shy”/bad boy outside, soft boy inside/”not as cool as he seems but way sweeter”

The artistic one/tortured artist/art student/skater/also does graffiti/spray-paint

Marvel fan/comic book fan/superhero fan

Clothing: Wears his clothes like armor/leather jacket/”He’s the only one with good taste and he knows it”

Most ‘devil may care’ about his sexuality

Family-oriented/family man

Involved with his religion

Model figure/carved by gods/vain but not obnoxious about it

Catchprase is ‘sick’

Needs time alone to recharge

Changes his hair a lot/that one strand of hair that falls over his eyes

Thinks Malibu is called Malabami

“Eats candy underwear off of Harry’s crotch”

[kristoffs-lullaby]

A Guide on How to Not Confess to Your Best Friend

(Hi!! This is late I’m so sorry ;; but here’s my part for the exchange! @ninjago-valentine-exchange) [ Plasma B | 2.9k words]  Kai was awful with feelings.  He might have played himself off as cool (or at least tried to) but when it really came down to it.. he was a mess. He could dish out flirty comments all he wanted but that didn’t mean that he knew what to do with them if the other party ever decided to retaliate. And that’s not something he figured about himself until Skylor. Maybe that’s why he’d liked Skylor so much. No he didn’t entirely enjoy the moments where his brain staggered and he looked like an absolute fool, but it made him want to try to keep up. If there was one thing he hated, it was being stunned into silence because that just meant he was losing. And Kai didn’t lose. 

While things didn’t really work out with Skylor relationship-wise, he still learned something about himself. And maybe their whole dynamic and the loss of it was what led to the chain of events that he still couldn’t quite believe even as he was living through it. 

Kai didn’t think much of it at first. That’s just how he and the other three Were. They teased each other. Poked fun at one another. Cracked jokes. And sometimes it would be at one another’s expense. Sometimes they’d take it too far and one of them would get pissed and the other wouldn’t understand Why until they had a much needed conversation about limits and boundaries. 

But that never came up when this particular brand of teasing and banter kicked off and maybe it should’ve been obvious way back then that he didn’t mind Jay crossing  this one specific boundary. But Kai was stupid and Kai was oblivious. 

It started as an off-handed comment about how maybe Jay had chosen the wrong sibling to date when Nya refused to side with him in a very heated debate about cake. Like the traitor she was, she took Cole’s side on the whole thing. Kai was at least glad to see that there was no bad blood between the three of them when Jay struck an, admittedly, low blow by bringing up how Nya was backstabbing him for Cole again just like in their former relationship.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to witness SOME sort of drama. So he sided with Jay. Which led to an uproar. Which led to Jay saying what he did. 

And it was a joke. Kai knew it was a joke. Nya and Cole knew it was a joke. And Jay had obviously meant it as a joke. There was that buffer though and he couldn’t understand why. 

He reasoned with himself that he was having trouble keeping up with all three yelling at each other. All the while he was stuck in the middle and that was why he didn’t say anything immediately and instead took a swig of his soda. But even those few seconds he bought himself apparently weren’t enough because he didn’t even have the time to register the words he planned to say before his mouth had made the decision for him. 

He was playing along apparently. 

“Obviously. I’m much better looking than Nya anyway. Don’t know what you ever saw in her.” Kai hung his head and shook it in disbelief. 

“HEY!” 

It’d been months now and that one moment had spurred on their little unspoken challenge. A competition of sorts. 

Really what they were doing was full on flirting with each other but they’d play it off as if it were a game between them to see who could fluster the other first. Until it wasn’t a game anymore. But neither of them was willing to admit that it wasn’t. And it grew to be a frustrating occurrence because everyone else knew what was up except those two idiots apparently. 

Kai was currently winning though and that’s all that mattered. Yup. All that mattered.

“Hey Romeo!”

Kai’s head snapped up at the nickname. (There was something to be said about the fact that they’d gotten used to using them but he wasn’t about to be the one to bring it up). He watched as Jay jogged up to him before the blue ninja leaned over to catch his breath as soon as he was at a closer distance. Kai wanted to laugh at the fact that the guy was a whole Ninja and still ran out of stamina a lot quicker than Dareth. It was kind of sad, actually, but he couldn’t help the fond eye roll it got out of him. 

“Hey Sunshine.” Kai supplied as he draped an arm over Jay’s shoulders lazily when the other boy finally stood his full height. “I’m guessin’ you have some big news. That or you’re dying to see me and I just took your breath away.” 

Jay snorted and shoved at his chest before ducking under Kai’s arm and side-stepping away from the touch. 

“No. And if you’re about to detail whatever daydreams you have about me it’s gonna have to wait-” 

“Shit. Is there danger?” Kai’s face dropped instantly as a million and one bad scenarios ran through his head. Geez being a ninja was hard.

“No, no, no.” It was sort of cute the way the blue ninja waved his hands around frantically. He was so animated when he spoke and it wasn’t something that was lost on Kai. If anything it was something he found endearing. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. How could he? Jay made it incredibly hard to ignore him. That’s probably why most people he came across labeled him as ‘annoying’. And maybe Kai had used the word against him in the.. not so distant past. But it wasn’t exactly right. Jay just had that sort of presence that demanded attention and sometimes it was a bit overwhelming but.. it wasn’t exactly a bad thing either.

Jay tapped a finger against his chin and looked him up and down. ”Your fashion sense might be a danger to society.. but other than that?”

“You take that back. You’re just jealous I rock everything I wear.” Kai crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. The absolute nerve. This brat was asking for a beatdown during training later. 

“Not jealous. Buuut. I do appreciate the view you’re right.”

“Why you-”

“Here.” Jay interrupted and shoved something in his direction. 

It was wrapped haphazardly. It reminded Kai of something he’d whip together when he was like nine. Back when he hardly knew how to use scissors and the tape dispenser was one of the greatest enemies in his life. Ah the good old days. The longer he looked at it the more ridiculous it looked. It didn’t even look like it had been wrapped with the same wrapping paper all the way through. More like Jay had scraps of various different ones and decided to stick ‘em together. Which.. Actually suited him. This very much screamed JAY. But why was he giving this to him..?

“C’mon dude I know your favorite person in the world just gave you a kickass gift but  you don’t gotta stare at it like it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life when I’m standing right here.” Jay sounded nervous. It was subtle and he played it off well (too well. Since when was Jay good at hiding it?) but Kai could tell in the way his voice rose just a decibel above its usual tone. It was also in the tic. Jay had a habit of looping one of the drawstrings of his hoodie around his finger when he was anxious. 

“My bad. Hold on let me get a good look at you,” This was totally payback for earlier. “Yeah. How could I even question it. Nothing compares.” he determined with a wink to send it home. 

Jay scoffed and was bordering on the edge of giving up this round too if the light pink dusting his cheeks was anything to go by, but in the end it looked like he was going to stand his ground this time. That was fine. This little exchange wasn’t over and Kai had plenty of time to sweep up a tally for the score from right under him. 

Or so he thought. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. 

Which sounded a lot more dramatic than it really was but what the hell was he supposed to do with this? 

Kai had spent that night restless. A restless night wasn’t foreign to him in any way. From time to time the red ninja had trouble sleeping. If he spoke out about how occasionally he’d lie in bed and just mull over every little detail from the past week, one of the other ninja would make some smartass remark about how Kai only found time to actually use his head at the worst possible time. Or maybe they wouldn’t and they’d understand. But he wasn’t going to try his luck. He’d rather protect himself than be vulnerable in a way he knew would hurt if they didn’t take him seriously. 

But this time he wasn’t lying in bed thinking about all the morbid things that came with being a ninja. This time he was glaring daggers at the stupid red bracelet tied neatly around his wrist. Because what the hell? 

It was so nice  and sweet and yet.. Still the most sinister gift he’s ever received. Because while it left him with this feeling of hope and joy, he was also afraid that the same hope that was so innocently sitting on his wrist would burn him. He was the fire ninja and he was afraid of getting burned. How ironic was that?

Kai draped his arm over his eyes. 

..And the smug look on Jay’s face when Kai couldn’t fight back the rising heat in his cheeks. Ridiculous. 

It was fair when they stood on equal ground. When they met on a mutual battlefield. But now Kai’s gone and dug himself into a trench. No. He’d fallen into it. He liked Jay. Dammit. And he let him win. 

Kai kicked his legs in the air in frustration before sitting up. That’s it. If Jay thought he was going to get away with this he was sorely mistaken. It was on and he was going to go all out. Go big or go home right? Right. 

And a month later the plan was kicking into motion.

“Can you remind me why we have to dress up again?” Jay asked. 

“We’re going undercover, I already told you.”

“Oh okay.” 

Kai wasn’t sure if Jay actually believed him or not but he was going to take it. On the one hand that could’ve read as a sarcastic remark because no Kai wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed and didn’t think this plan all the way through BUT Jay was also the type to just take things as they were.. For a bit. At least until it finally settled in that he didn’t actually know what he was doing then he’d start questioning again. Which Kai was banking on it not being for a while. 

“Well are you ready?” Jay looked up at him expectantly. 

Kai would have loved to say ‘Yes’. He really would have. Except.. 

“I just realized I don’t know how to tie a tie,” his lips drew into a thin line. What he’d done certainly wasn’t right. He knew Jay wanted to laugh. He knew it. Kai didn’t even have to look up at the dumb amused smile on Jay’s stupid face to know that. But he did anyway. And sure enough there he was trying his hardest to hold one back. 

Kai rolled his eyes and looked down again, the embarrassment washing over him just a little too roughly. 

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Never really been invited to events and stuff growing up and well I mean who was gonna teach me anyway even if I had been?” his mouth snapped shut as soon as the words left his mouth. Sure he had a streak of not knowing when to hesitate but god damn since when had it gotten this bad? Probably a while ago. This was not the time to bring up his fucked up childhood and admittedly he wanted to move away as quickly as possible before he could get any sort of response dripped in pity. 

But in true Jay fashion, the comment was the last thing he was worried about. And in true Jay fashion.. he was also full of surprises. 

Before Kai could even apologize or change the subject, there were hands slowly guiding themselves around Kai’s neck. They were Jay’s, that much he could process before his brain started buffering. He couldn’t say anything or even react to the extent that he was internally. Which was absolute chaos. 

Kai’s eyes flickered to the red fabric of the tie and lingered there for a second as he watched it being carefully tied in a way he knew would take him a while to master. His eyes wandered to the soft hands at work and he briefly wondered how they weren’t rough and scarred considering all the tinkering Jay did on top of ninja work. And then finally his eyes landed on Jay’s face and the way it was too adorably scrunched in concentration with his tongue sticking out and all. 

It took him far too long to realize when Jay was finished and he begrudgingly added another point to Jay’s side of the scoreboard in his head. 

Kai had to stop letting him stun him into silence. 

..Some other day. 

Because now they were staring at each other with Jay’s hands frozen in place on Kai’s chest and suddenly Jay was leaning in too close and- It was a kiss. It was a little messy and not at all how Kai imagined this going if it ever happened at all. But it was a kiss. And it was still perfect. 

Kai had wondered before if he’d feel a spark of electricity or if Jay would be able to feel the hot fire that burned Kai’s body without mercy on his lips. Now he had the answer. Or at least half of one. But suddenly it wasn’t important anymore. Suddenly it couldn’t even come close to it being his first thought when he could taste the sweetness of Jay’s favorite banana yogurt on his tongue. Or when he tried to imagine literally anything softer than this moment but only came up short on that end as well. Or when his hand cupped the other ninja’s freckled cheek and it fit there like it had always meant to be there. 

They pulled away after a few beats and Kai’s eyes snapped open and all too suddenly he was pointing an accusatory finger at Jay.

“You ruined it!”

“..Huh?” Poor Jay looked so lost and a little dazed. 

“Your ruined it!” Kair repeated as if that helped any. “I was supposed to trick you into this whole “mission” thing,” he threw up air quotes “but really I was GOING take you to this very nice dinner that the whole team helped out with and surprise you!” 

“And.. why can’t we still do that?” Jay looked at him like he was crazy and like he didn’t understand a damn word Kai was saying. Which.. fair.

“Because the whole point was to eventually tell you how I feel tonight and you were supposed to be so shocked by it and I’d get to see the look on your face and revel in it and finally get my revenge!”

“Huh..? Revenge for what?”

“THE BRACELET!” Kai held up his arm and pointed at his wrist where, sure enough, the red bracelet was still clinging to. 

It took Jay a second or two but soon enough the realization was starting to dawn on him. And he laughed. The bastard laughed while Kai was fuming and beat red from the whole thing. 

“But you beat me again,” Kai dragged a hand down his face and clasped his hand over his mouth trying to hide his blush as much as possible. “You got me. You beat me. I’m the most flustered and I-” he choked trying to form a coherent thought. Feelings were hard, how did he ever think he’d be able to push out an actual confession that night? 

“You were one step ahead and I look like the fool again for letting this affect me so much.” In true Kai fashion he didn’t understand immediately that Jay having kissed him first meant something very very important. He wasn’t smart and he never claimed to be in his defense.

“Kai.”

“WHAT?” 

Jay looked like he was considering something before eventually huffing a breath of air through his nose and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You know I gave that to you on Valentine’s Day right?”

“What?”

Jay pointed to the bracelet.

“Valentine’s Day. I was goooing to ask you out but. You kinda just stormed off like the whole thing pissed you off so.” 

Oh.. OH. Kai was an idiot. He didn’t know how many times he’d have to repeat to himself that he was just flat out stupid until his braincells got the memo and actually did their job.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you agree to never talk about this again.”

“Throw in a kiss and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

“Deal.”

“Now how about that Dinner?”

Jay would later make fun of Kai for perfectly timing his whole scheme to fall on White Day. To which Kai would slide him another twenty to have the blue ninja pretend like he thought Kai had done it on purpose.

 Next year he would get him back on purpose. 

[and-there-were-words]

A Spider Life: Webbed Thoughts (Chapter 02)

Setting up some HCs for the future, as well as giving some insight to our favorite scientist spider.

---

Taking place during “Revenge of the Spider Queen”, pretty much at the end of it.

With the Arachnoid Base gone and the town mostly in shambles due to the massive explosion, the Spider Demons were scattered all around town. Syntax takes it upon himself to find the other two, while wandering foreign, yet familiar streets. (Wordcount: around 1800)

---

Having almost all of his Spiderbots deactivated, was a huge setback for certain. It’ll take days to reconfigure them, and who even knew if they had enough of the special venom to get back to the count they had previously. It was near impossible to draw any numbers if the extent of the destruction was still unknown to him.

At least, there were a few things that survived. For one, the Spiderbot on his back. The cool metal resting comfortable against his spine, while the robot was feeding him a constant flow of information from the remaining units. It was a soft background buzz, a reminder that he was indeed part of this clan. The other ‘survivor’ being the head of their Arachnoid Base, certainly the most complex part of the mech. Given some time and work, he was certain he could rebuild it.

Syntax’s mouth drew into a hard line, reminiscing the events of the last few hours. It looked like the Queen… no, his Queen, had everything under control. The so-called-heroes caught, powerless against her might. The scientist had redrawn himself to continue working. Just because the battle was already won, didn’t meant there were no projects to finish up and to maintain. There were victory celebrations to be had afterall, and nobody else took it up to plan those. Syntax only had noticed the earth rumble above him when everything went down, and a moment later he had to witness his Queen on the ground, defeated. He wisely decided not to become a potential target of her fury, and excused himself to immediately go back to work.

As much as he hated to admit it, he really had to find the other two. For the sole reason to move the Arachnoid Base head back underground into the lair, of course. The remaining Spiderbots were not enough to stem this feat and he did not even have a fraction of the required strength to do it by himself. He would not allow his Queen to do any of this work, even if she was more than capable of moving the apparatus. No, if he could do something against it, he will not let the lady steep any lower, she was supposed to rest.

Goliath and Huntsman.

The scientist inhaled in trough the nose and let out a mildly annoyed sigh. The very moment these two had awaken, he was able to feel their gazes constantly lingering on him. Moreso from the hunter than the strong spider. Actually, it was a little surprising that the big one was… rather gentle in a way. Goliath barely ever spoke, and seemed content to just be part of whatever was going on. Doing what he was told to do, he certainly was the more reasonable compared to the gnarly spider that was Huntsman.

The older spider had made it apparently his goal to infuriate Syntax in any way possible. Always trying to shove himself in the spotlight when the scientist wanted to inform his Queen, always throwing little nitpicks and snarky remarks here and there – and by far the most annoying thing; always wrinkling his nose when he came too close to Syntax. ‘Close’ of course being several feet away, there was no way he’d allow that pelt wearing asshole anywhere near himself. More an unconcious act while having this trail of thought, Syntax lifted his wrist to his own nose, trying to catch any scent. He couldn’t detect anything odd, just metal, cold earth and the faintly sweet fragrance of his lady’s venom. Huntsman certainly was only doing this to irritate him. And frustratingly enough, it was slowly getting to him.

The scientist scoffed, looking up to check his surroundings. He was in the middle of a street, in some part of the city that didn’t get completely leveled during the fight. Some signs and advertisement screens still flickered with life, hanging in there with all might. The occasional spark and the scuttling of a critter were all the noises he could hear otherwise. Remarkable how fast the local population was able to evacuate from their homes once the Spider Demons had attacked. Something in the back of his brain clawed to the surface, images of a giant bull stomping and blasting entire blocks away. Having to leave ‘someplace important’ to be safe. A taste of bitterness of potentially losing all ‘progress’.

Progress of what? Syntax halted in his steps for a moment, trying to make sense of this rabid influx of images and emotions that… were his? Weren’t his? He could, for the life of his, not consciously remember any of what his mind was spouting out. It didn’t take long for the buzzing of the Spiderbot and the soothing warmth of the venom to calm his nerves again. What was he thinking about again? The scientist unchlenched his teeth, uncurling his fists. There was no apparent reason to be tense. With a shake of his head, Syntax continued down the streets.

He didn’t even question it that he could navigate throughout the city without a second guess. Somewhere in the far back of his mind, there was a subtle note that any corner he passed, and any road sign he read was completely new information. Yet he could feel it in his fingertips that he had seen these places before.

...most certainly the marvel of the Spiderbots, always here to bring him up to date! At a crossroad, his gaze subconsciously wandered down to his right, the word ‘Work’ coming to his mind. But before he could delve anymore on this random fact, a red flash signaled the scientist that he was close to his target. Completely ignoring the jumbled webbing of his mind, that tried to lure him somewhere, he turned to his left and followed the call of the machines.

It didn’t take long to find the hulking figure of Goliath. The strong spider was not within the crater that was left when crashing into the concrete, but instead was sitting a little to the side. Remarkable, that the guy barely had a scratch, Syntax wasn’t sure if he could shake off such an impact as easily. Goliath was looking somewhat exhausted, and for the first time since he knew him, mildly annoyed. It was clear that the henchman was already aware what must have had happen after he got blasted into the sky, the destroyed mech could not be overlooked easily. Though when he noticed the scientist approaching, his features softened, brows slightly raised in a silent question. For someone who could easily be one of the most intimidating creatures Syntax knew about (he didn’t knew many, DBK was certainly on this list though), he surely often made an expression like a lost puppy. In a way, it was endearing, giving this giant an aura he could relax in, at least somewhat.

Syntax looked around, searching for a second crater. Without needing to raise the question, Goliath shook his head. “He ain’t here, think he fell somewhere further to the east.”, a silent groan escaped the big guy as he got up, stretching his arms a little and dusting off some dirt. “Shall we?”

The scientist just nodded, stuffing hands in pockets and following the other’s lead. Finding himself mulling over threads of thoughts again as he watched the large back of the spider demon. In a way, it was… fascinating, how different they all were. Goliath, clearly strong and powerful, didn’t seem to make much use out of venom and webs. He was capable of both, no question, but either his mastery in these skills weren’t the greatest, or he simply didn’t want to use either for whatever reason. Syntax put a pin into that, maybe a question for another day.

Now Huntsman was almost the opposite. Even if he didn’t like to admit it, Syntax had to give tribute where it was due. The older spider’s ability of web manipulation was astounding, and maybe there was more to the hunter than one would give him credit for. He obviously was a traditional kind of guy, annoyingly so, but he still had picked up on Syntax’s gadgets and tools surprisingly quick. It did not take him more than a hour to figure out the spider trackers and the communication earbuds, he even had taken an animated liking over the tech-heavy binoculars that fed him instant information about anything he looked at. Of course, he immediately claimed that he would not need any of these, that his natural skills were enough. To no one’s surprise, Syntax noticed that said gadgets had mysteriously disappeared an hour later. He was smart enough to not bring this topic up.

Now the Queen… Syntax hummed contently as the Spiderbot buzzed in approvement. She was the Queen of Spiders for obvious reasons. While Goliath and Huntsman seemed to have specialized in one thing, the lady was quite powerful in all aspects. Her webs were strong and could be enchanted with all kinds of abilities. They were able to trap the Demon Bull King, and even the supposedly all-mighty Monkey King! That alone was a feat in itself. Syntax had noted with great pleasure that his lady was quite well versed in technology too, and up-to-date with society, in opposite to the other two. The giant spider bot that was basically just an extension of her true might? Her own creation! And don’t even get him started on her powerful venom! It had endless potential as both a power source and as an ingredient for mixtures and magics yet to be discovered.

And he, Syntax himself? For a moment, the scientist stopped in his track. He had his smarts and knowledge for sure. Basically a library of all things technology within his noggin. And his Queen already made it clear that he was an important part in all of her plans. Venom, webbing, physical strength on the other hand… The claws on his back twitched slightly agitated, a sudden spike of an incoming migrain stopping all tracks of thoughts. When Syntax looked forwards again, he could see that Goliath was glancing at him with mild worry, patiently waiting to continue their way to find the gnarly spider. The scientist shook his head, reminding himself that he was part of this clan, there was no place in doubting his Queen.

In comfortable silence, the two walked down the empty streets, neither feeling any need of smalltalk. As ironic and bitter as it was, Syntax found himself in a moment of peace, just a moment he could relax his shoulders and sort the rest of his thoughts calmly. Things certainly were going to get tense again once they picked up Huntsman, that fact was clear. The Spider Demons had a lot of tasks ahead of them as well, going off by the words of the little Miss Mystery. Not something he was particularly looking forward for, but serving his Queen was his sole purpose. And nothing will distract him from that.

[shireness-says]

A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink (1/4)

Summary: Two people are trained from childhood for a magical competition they don't fully understand, whose stakes are higher than they imagine, all to be played out in a magical traveling circus. Falling in love complicates things. A CS AU of the book “The Night Circus”.

Rated M. ~15.2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Presenting my contribution to the @cssns​! “The Night Circus” by Erin Morgenstern is a favorite book of mine that I have long thought would make for an excellent CS AU. And so, I’m finally doing it. At length. 

I was incredibly lucky to be paired with @eirabach​ for this event, who created the beautiful art attached above. She has such amazing ideas for bringing this fic to life in all its atmospheric glory that I never would have thought of. Her art is also posted on her tumblr; go give it all the love it deserves!

Thanks also go to @snidgetsafan​, my ever-phenomenal beta, and @ohmightydevviepuu​, who read the book at my urging and then agreed to read my monster to make sure nothing important was left out. This fic is better for both their efforts. 

Tagging the usual suspects for now. If you want to be added to (or removed from!) this list, just shoot me a message: @welllpthisishappening​, @profdanglaisstuff​, @thisonesatellite​, @let-it-raines​, @kmomof4​, @scientificapricot​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @superchocovian​, @teamhook​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @searchingwardrobes​, @katie-dub​, @snowbellewells​

Enjoy - and let me know what you think! Next chapter will be posted whenever I get it done. 

~~~~~

The circus arrives at night.

There is never any warning of its arrival; no handbills stuck to the lampposts or announcement from some other lucky town that yours will be next. It is simply there one morning, all the black and white tents taking on a particularly mystical quality in the light of the sunrise. At the front gate is a sign:

                       Le Cirque des Rêves

                   Open sunset until sunrise

(And what a curious idea, that; a circus that is only open at night.)

The circus is a place where anything can happen, and routinely does. Those who visit leave with an awareness that no street-side carnival or traveling minstrel will ever induce such enjoyment again; everything must naturally pale in comparison. The illusionist is somehow more magical, the fortune-teller more wise, the contortionists and acrobats more daring. The world of the circus, created all in black and white and silver and lit by delicate lanterns and a great bonfire at its center, feels otherworldly - and you somehow feel that it just might be. 

In a word, the circus is magic, brought to life right in front of your eyes, and you know you will never be the same for having witnessed it. 

Our story does not begin at the circus, however; it only ends there.

———

Our story begins in the back corner of a smoky tavern, or a grimy alley, or a dimly lit dressing room of a theater, or any number of other places that exist in-between the rest of humanity, overlooked, utterly invisible in their mundanity.

(In truth, it does not matter where our story begins - only that it does.)

A woman sits in a darkened corner. More attentive observers might recognize her as the famed stage magician, Circe the Enchantress, capable of tricks beyond their wildest imagination.

(Even the most observant wouldn’t realize that all of Circe’s “tricks” are gloriously real; the human mind is excellent at not seeing things that it doesn’t want to acknowledge.)

(The most observant won’t notice the way she purposefully draws the shadows further around herself, either, just to ensure that the rest of humanity around her can’t penetrate the curtain of dark.)

Circe isn’t her real name, of course; it just sounds good on a playbill, capable of attracting people from far and wide. These days, she goes by Regina Mills, though there’s been other names before that: Corwin and King and Bowen and Smith. Names aren’t much of a concern for those as old as she, just another passing distraction when you’ve witnessed hundreds of years.

Hundreds of years don’t make the waiting any easier when the person you’re expecting can’t bother to arrive on time.

“You’re late,” she comments drily when her companion finally arrives, a slight man with a slighter limp. They may as well be a study in opposites; where Regina plays with shadow to avoid notice, he’s draped himself in a spell that causes an observer’s eyes to glance away without seeing; while Regina tries on names like hats over the decades and centuries, changing with every whim, her companion has allowed his own moniker to become lost to time, known only now to very few and only as Mr. Gold. 

“Au contraire, dearie,” he replies mildly, though the irritated glint in his eye would terrify anyone else. “I arrived exactly when I needed to. What is time to those like us, anyhow?”

“A convenient construct that keeps those you have appointments with from waiting around for any longer than they have to.” 

Mr. Gold studiously ignores the quip.  “Why did you ask me here tonight, Regina?” 

“I’m in the mood for a game,” she says, faux-casually. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper competition.”

“Ah yes,” her companion smirks. “If I remember right, my contestant defeated yours last time.”

“On a technicality,” Regina corrects through gritted teeth.

“In this world of absolutes, I often find a technicality is all it takes to shift the balance. And magic, true power… that’s the greatest technicality of them all.”

“I’m rather less inclined to deal in technicalities, at least where the matter of starting a new game is involved,” Regina snaps. Any minute shred of patience or humor she might have possessed is long since gone, even if her companion remains unruffled. “It really boils down to: do you want to, or not?”

“Never let it be said I turn down a challenge, dearie.” This time, it’s impossible to miss the menace behind the supposed endearment. “In fact, I’d say you were the one being… shall we say, vague about the details of this all. Do you have a venue in mind? Or are you leaving that particular bit up to me?”

Regina waves a dismissive hand. “Do as you will. You know I’m not much interested in that, anyways.”

“You never did understand the importance of setting.”

“Perhaps I simply have faith that my contestant will prevail regardless.”

That piques Gold’s interest. “You already have a candidate in mind, then?”

“And fully anticipate taking them as a student, yes. I suppose you’ll want to be there to bind them to the competition?”

“You know me well.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Regina mutters under her breath. They both know, however, that Mr. Gold hears the words regardless. 

Carefully, the man in question stands from the table, supporting himself on a gilt-ended cane. Any limp that might necessitate such an accessory has long since been corrected; some things are more about the effect, anyways. “If there’s nothing else, Regina, I have other matters to attend to.”

“I expect you do,” Regina smirks. “After all, I’ve already spotted my player, and you’ve yet to find yours.”

“That is true,” Gold concedes with a deceptive mildness. “But remember, dearie: it isn’t about how the game starts, or when, or where. It’s about where it ends. And I have full confidence my acolyte will be able to last the distance.”

With their business concluded, both magicians fade back into the night. Pedestrians continue along the streets, occasionally interrupted by a horse and carriage, all unaware of the true nature of the beings weaving through their midst.

(Dozens of lives have been altered with this ten minute conversation, but the world at large will never know that either.)

———

Emma Swan spends a lot of time by herself.

That’s to be expected, in some ways; she’s an orphan, after all, having spent all 6 years of her life bouncing between begging in the children’s homes and begging on the streets, desperate for the help of others and receiving very little of it. 

But Emma is different, in a way that scares others and has left her to bounce around for years. Emma can do things that others can’t do, like the sparks that dance between her fingers and all the little things that sometimes move, falling off shelves and tables and everything else, whenever she’s upset. She can’t control it, not really, and in a life like hers, there are far too many opportunities to be upset. 

A lady had seen her the other day - one of the fancy ladies by the theaters, the kind that usually pretend they don’t see Emma, like her very existence might dirty their skirts. Emma hadn’t meant to - she never means for these things to happen. But the days are getting colder, and when she really starts to shiver, even with her arms curled around herself to conserve heat, sometimes the little sparks just happen. It’s like whatever this thing is is just trying to keep her warm too.

And no one should have seen her, tucked away in that corner, but the lady is already looking around with a frown on her face like she’s searching for something, and when she turns Emma’s way, it just happens. The lady’s eyes focus on Emma, drawn by those little shoots of light, even as she shoves her hands into her armpits. Emma expects gasping, or screaming, or maybe even a panicked shout for the police - it wouldn’t be the first time - but instead, the lady just tilts her head and narrows her eyes, as if she’s seen something interesting. Then she nods abruptly and leaves.

Emma doesn’t expect to see the lady again - indeed, she rather thinks she’s dodged a bullet. But a week later, she rounds the corner with a filched apple and runs straight into the lady.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” Emma mumbles, ducking her head and trying to scoot around the older woman. When the lady darts out an elegant hand to grab Emma’s arm and hold her in place, panic courses through her veins. “Please, Ma’am, I didn’t do nothing, I swear —”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the lady snaps, tugging Emma into the mouth of an unnaturally quiet alley. “I don’t care about whatever you ‘didn’t do’. I want to talk about what you did the other day.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma mumbles, staring studiously at her feet.

“Of course you do - the lights, in your hands. Don’t lie to me. That’s a gift, don’t you know that?”

Emma shakes her head no.

“Your gift - it can do wonderful things. It makes you special.”

“I’m not special.”

The lady considers that for a moment before answering. “No. But you could be. I could teach you.”

Now that catches Emma’s attention. “You can? How?”

“I can do things like that too,” the lady explains with a smile that seems more smug than pleased. Sure enough, when the lady turns her hand upright, a small ball of flame burns there. Emma’s eyes practically bulge out of her head as she watches that little lick of fire - like her own, in so many ways.

“If you come with me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” the lady says. It sounds like an order, not an offer; Emma knows how to recognize those. Still, maybe…

“Like a mother?” she asks hopefully, even if she knows that’s unlikely.

The lady scrunches her nose in a kind of instinctual disgust. It’s about as much as Emma expected. “Heavens, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolds. “No, more like… you’d be my apprentice, and I’d teach you our trade.”

That seems odd to Emma; this lady, with her fancy dress and her fancy hat and her posh accent, doesn’t seem like the type who should have to work. “What’s your work?”

For the first time this whole conversation, the lady bends down to properly meet Emma’s eyes. Emma straightens a bit at the gesture, already able to tell she’s about to impart something important. “Magic,” the woman tells her with a smug, adult kind of smile.

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma says back, almost automatically. Six years in orphanages and left to her own devices have long since proved there are no fairy godmothers in this world, not for little girls like her. 

The woman straightens. “The bits of it you have dancing around your fingers right now say otherwise.”

Emma looks down in horror to see it again - the sparks that she tries so hard to hide, that give her so much trouble. For all the mad things this lady says, she’s the first to not look at the display in alarm or even fear. 

“You can make it go away?”

“I can teach you to control it,” the lady corrects, “and so much more. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime, Emma. Don’t be such a fool as to reject that.”

And even at six, Emma is not a fool.

Emma goes with the lady, who she learns is called Regina. She never learns how Regina knew her name, but writes it off as magic.

(There are far worse fates for lost girls like her.)

———

Emma has been with Regina for a week when the strange man shows up backstage at the theater where Regina is performing.

One week isn’t a lot of time in the grand scheme of an apprenticeship, but her teacher is guiding Emma to recognize magic in the world - the way it pulls toward Emma like an odd kind of magnet and traces linger in the air for hours. Emma has learned to see the faint, radiating glow of magic around her own mentor; this man doesn’t quite have the same glow, but there’s a hum that emanates from him that she thinks might be the same thing. 

Regina introduces the man as a friend, but Emma doesn’t think that’s quite right. She’s always had a knack for recognizing lies - maybe that’s a kind of magic, she wonders now - and her benefactor isn’t quite telling the truth. Maybe that’s one of the half-lies that adults tell, when they think the truth is too difficult for a child to comprehend.

Regardless of what the man might be - friend, foe, acquaintance, something else altogether - Emma can’t help but feel uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. The sparks burst and dance around her fingertips again, entirely without her say-so - something the man quickly notices.

“You’ve found a natural talent, then?” The words are addressed at Regina, but his eyes never leave Emma.

“I told you I had someone in mind,” Regina bites back, just barely on the right side of civility. “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t have all day.”

“Patience was never your strong suit, was it, Regina?” The man’s tone is mild, but his eyes flash with displeasure. Still, he crouches in front of Emma, granting her his full attention. Though he carries a cane, the movement doesn’t appear to pain him in the way she expects. “What do they call you, young miss?”

She doesn’t particularly want to answer, but Regina has a particular look in her eye that says that she doesn’t really have a choice. “Emma,” she finally mumbles, avoiding the man’s eyes.

“Emma,” he parrots back. “What a lovely name. May I see your hand, Emma?”

Silently, she offers it, palm facing up. Once she does so, the man slips a plain gold ring off his pinky finger, sliding it onto Emma’s own ring finger instead. Curiously, Emma looks at the bauble; it is far too loose on her small finger at first, but as she watches, the band shrinks to fit until it’s a perfect fit. It doesn’t stop though, continuing to tighten and tighten until the metal sears into her skin, burning the flesh until she cries out in pain and tears spring to her eyes. 

And then it’s over. The mysterious man lifts her hand with deceptively soft and delicate fingers, removing that awful ring from her digit to slip it back onto his own.

“You’ll do well, Emma.” The name almost sounds like an insult in his cold voice. “I wish you good fortune.”

(Emma doesn’t notice the item wrapped in a handkerchief Regina passes to the odd man, never realizes that it contains a silver ring to match the one he just used on her, too focused on rubbing at the smooth, scarred skin on her finger where the odd man’s ring just branded her and trying to chase the memory of pain away. One day, she will understand the way that this moment and that ring bound her to a future she didn’t fully understand.

But today, Emma is six, and all she knows is that her finger hurts.)

“You don’t want to do this yourself?” Mr. Gold asks, tucking the handkerchief and ring into his inner breast pocket.

“Obviously not. I’m not nearly as mistrusting as you are,” Regina replies.

(One day soon, Mr. Gold knows he will have cause to execute this binding on a student of his own. It does not matter much to him whether Regina is present for such a binding, though he thinks her a fool for her own sake. After all, knowledge is power - and there is no power greater than knowing your opponent.)

———

A strange man comes to Killian’s school on a Wednesday when he is eight, the kind of day where everything is shifting and changing.

(School is a generous word for this place, as none of the children ever leave, no homes or families to return to at the end of the day. Killian has a brother, three years older, but their mother is long dead. As for their father… as Liam says, the less said about the bastard, the better. There is a reason the two boys have found themselves in this children’s home by any other name.)

The man doesn’t say much, and explains even less. A selection of children, three boys and two girls - including Killian and Liam - are pulled from their regular classes and made to sit for an exam, only instructed to read all the instructions before beginning. The man must have money; the test is printed, each letter pressed in black ink onto the crisp page. It feels like a silly use of money, at least to Killian - he’d much rather use it at one of the concession vendors down by the river - but it’s impressive all the same. The test itself is not fully any one subject; there are translations of languages he doesn’t understand and number puzzles and a curious instruction at the end to only answer questions numbered in multiples of three. At the very end - question 57 - is a short answer question: Why do you think you are here today, and why are you taking this test?

Killian looks around the room at the other children, all diligently working on their own exams. There’s no obvious connector between the five children in the room; Liam has always been brilliant, but Killian is a middling student, and the other boy even lower than that. Some of them are known as quiet and well behaved, but some are not. Some are leaders, some are followers. There’s no obvious pattern.

As to why he’s taking this test… it’s obvious that the man must want to evaluate something, but Killian can’t begin to understand what. As far as his young brain can discern, the exam is about recognizing patterns and following directions. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why.

Killian stares at the space for his answer for what feels like hours. Even after nearly three years in this home, or perhaps because of it, he still has a strong desire to please, to give adults the answers they want to hear; in this case, he just doesn’t know what that is. Finally, as the other children start to put down their pencils, he hurriedly scrawls an answer.

Does it really matter?

After the exams are collected, the children are called in to speak with the man, one by one. None of the conversations are very long, and each trails out with a look of confusion on their face afterwards. Killian tries to catch Liam’s eye as his brother leaves the headmistress’ office, but Liam just furrows his brow and shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

The man holds Killian’s test in his hands when he finally enters the office, appearing to examine his answers. The man is perfectly ordinary in every way; neither short nor tall, thin nor fat, with hair that is not quite brown or blond or grey. The only thing that sets him apart is his clothing - the expensive suit, the perfectly shined shoes, the gold-tipped cane. 

“Does it really matter?” the man quips, diving straight in and obviously quoting Killian’s own response.

Killian swallows heavily; he wouldn’t have written that in the first place if he knew this was coming. “Sir?”

“Your answer,” he expands, as if that needs clarifying. “I’d be curious to hear why you gave that particular answer.”

Killian flushes and looks at his shoes, but the man just waits until he finally answers. “It was obvious you had a reason for having us sit that exam,” he finally explains, “and I had no idea why that was. I didn’t want to guess.”

“You could have left it blank,” the man points out. “Several of the others did. Why the question?”

Killian shrugs. “I wanted to know.” Then, when the silence stretches out between them: “Was that wrong?”

The man stares in silence for a moment longer, before shaking his head. “I would like to take you on as my student,” he declares. When Killian hesitates, his tone turns sharp. “Are you opposed to that?”

“What about my brother?” Killian asks, meeker than he’d like.

“I am only interested in taking one student.” His words are dismissive, bordering on uncaring, and Killian’s stomach plummets.

“But what will happen to him? He’s the only thing I have left.”

“I’m more interested in what happens to you, particularly in relation to my offer, than in your brother.”

In a burst of courage (or, he’ll think in later years, foolishness), Killian pulls himself together to make a fateful declaration. “I’ll go with you… but only if you send Liam - send my brother to school.”

“This is a school.”

“A good school,” Killian clarifies. “The best one. One that will let him do anything he wants when he’s grown up.”

There’s a pause as the mystery man seems to study Killian, though his face gives nothing away. Killian’s heart climbs into his throat as he waits, but he holds his ground. That seems important, somehow - like he’s engaging in some kind of unknown battle. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the odd man tilts his head in a half shrug, as if such a concession is nothing to him. Who knows; with the kind of money he obviously has, maybe it really is nothing. “We have a deal. Go get your things - we leave today.”

(Months later, after many lessons that Killian doesn’t yet understand, the man - Mr. Gold - has Killian place a ring on his finger, a loop of silver that burns a band of flesh on his thumb. A binding, Mr. Gold calls it, tying Killian to a contest that he does not yet understand.

However, it is this transaction - Liam’s education for Killian’s own - that binds him far sooner and better than magic ever could.)

——— 

Magic, Emma finds, is a thread upon the breeze - swirling around them all, lighting upon branches and settling into corners, just waiting to be noticed and harnessed. And Emma does - she feels it, and knows it, and asks it for favors. Dye the dress. Fold the sheet. Heal the dove. The magic deigns to come and wind through her fingers, grip a thread and pull and alter the world to her liking. 

Magic, she finds, is whimsy and wildness all in one, there for her to use and set free once again. Magic is power, more than she will ever wield; her role is but to borrow and return, like a toy set neatly back on a shelf. 

Magic, she finds, is a living thing all its own, and if she works very hard, she just might earn its trust.

Emma grows to enjoy a better childhood than she ever expected before Regina took her off the streets, though it is far from gentle. It is a childhood spent moving from place to place, hopping all over Europe and even to the Americas as Regina performs in theaters around the world. Regina demands nothing less than perfection in their lessons, and Emma grows used to performing the same tasks over and over until her mentor is satisfied - turning tea cups into mice and materializing all manner of objects from unseen rooms and healing her fingertips from where Regina slices the skin with a knife, each scar a supposed indication that she’s not trying hard enough.

But in time, Emma learns and she grows. At 18, Regina deems her skills honed enough to rent her out as a medium, calling upon Emma’s skills to rattle dishes and peer into people’s deepest, saddest thoughts to echo back just what they want to hear. Emma hates every moment of it - lying to people already wracked with grief, taking their money and offering them little satisfaction. She tries to comfort the bereaved as best she can in these sessions, but it’s often of little use. Emma may dread these hollow performances, but what choice does she have? As long as she’s under Regina’s tutelage and protection, Emma’s choices are not her own. 

(She may not know nearly as much about this competition as she should, but Emma longs for the beginning of the contest all the same, if only to finally crawl out from underneath Regina’s thumb.)

———

Magic, Killian finds, is a well of ink, the feeling of satisfaction deep within him when pen births onto page the perfect word, a descriptor for all the things he knew but could never say. It takes hours and years of study, but Killian learns all the ways to channel that pool - each spell, each rune, each intricate bit of charmwork. Magic is hard, but Mr. Gold says all power worth having is; besides, Killian has always been diligent. 

(The lessons are much more interesting than his regular schoolwork, anyways.)

Magic, he learns, is there, if one just knows how to look for it. Most people will go their entire lives without being aware of that; he’s special to have learned. Knowing opens a whole universe of possibility; after that, it’s all down to technique, and finding the right language to channel it. 

Magic, he finds, is a tool, and if he works very hard, he just might be able to harness it to his will. 

Killian’s childhood is a regimented one, filled with books and careful note taking, mastering the theory and principle of every bit of magic he encounters before being allowed to put it to use. As the years stack up, his head fills with runes and symbols and all manner of magical words, like another language he’s slowly become fluent in. In time, Killian learns to piece all of it together into a powerful language only known to a select few - words that can make things happen, that can alter the very world around them. The language of magic, at its very core.

Mr. Gold may be a distant mentor, not prone to affection and rarely even telling Killian he’s proud or pleased, but he keeps his word. Liam attends the best boys’ school that money can secure, impressing his teachers with his innate curiosity and intelligence and making a whole host of friends who are happy to host him on school holidays. Once a month, Mr. Gold takes Killian to see Liam, or brings Liam to see Killian, all with a transport more efficient than any train or carriage. In between, the brothers gladly fill the weeks with exchanged letters, keeping one another apprised of their lives. Killian had told Liam about this arrangement from the beginning - the magic, the competition he’ll one day engage in - and his older brother offers all the pride that Killian doesn’t receive from his mentor. It’s not the path that either anticipated following as children, but it’s a much better life than either expected. There’s a lot to be grateful for.

As Killian grows into a man and learns how to study independently, his enigmatic teacher leaves him to his own devices. Killian prefers it that way, really; though he’s always been grateful for the mysterious, once in a lifetime opportunity he’s been offered, Killian has never been close to his benefactor, not by a long shot. There’s a feeling that hangs over every interaction that he’s never been able to shake, that he owes Mr. Gold in ways he’ll never fully understand. It’s never made for an easy relationship.

Besides, he likes his independence. He is granted a little flat in a quiet and respectable part of the city, with room for a library and a pretty view of a nearby park. It’s more than an orphan like him ever imagined he could have before this opportunity fell in his lap. There are moments of loneliness, but no more than he’s grown used to in youth; besides, as adults, Liam drops by for conversation and a nightcap far more frequently. It’s a little life he’s carved out for himself, with his notebooks and spellbooks and everything in its place, even as he continues the interminable wait for a contest he still barely knows anything about.

It’s all the more surprising, then, when one day the knock at his front door reveals none other but his teacher, as neatly turned out as ever and utterly unexpected.

“Won’t you come in?” Killian asks, stepping aside in welcome. He doesn’t much expect the invitation to be accepted, but he asks all the same; he’s used to interactions with his teacher being strictly business. 

Sure enough: “That won’t be necessary. This will only be a moment.” Gold’s tone might generously be described as brusque, if Killian was in a mood to be so generous. He’s not, particularly. 

“What can I do for you, then?”

“A Mr. Jefferson Madigan will be seeking a secretary and assistant,” Gold tells him, handing over someone else’s calling card. “You will apply for that position.”

It’s an odd command; Killian’s benefactor has never cultivated much of an opinion about his life of study and leisure up to this point. But suddenly, it clicks. “Is this about the challenge?”

“Mr. Madigan and his companions will be creating a venue.” Technically, it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial, but over the years, Killian has learned to read those answers as well as any book. It’s an affirmative. “It will be to your advantage to become part of that circle.”

“I understand,” Killian nods gravely.

“Make sure that you do.”

Killian looks down to examine the address on the calling card, and by the time he looks up again, Gold is gone. His teacher does that, he’s learned - found a way to move through the world while barely leaving a mark upon it. With the conversation clearly over, Killian closes his flat door.

(All the while, a metaphorical door of possibility has been thrown wide open.)

———

Mr. Jefferson Madigan may be the man for whom the word eccentric was crafted.

The townhouse is only a townhouse in the aristocratic sense of the word, more an elaborate and enormous monolith situated in town than just a normal dwelling. The door knocker is cast in the shape of two dragons, and curtains in a variety of different and garish colors peek through the window. At the bottom of what are otherwise staid, conventional stone steps are marble statues of a rabbit and a dormouse where regal lions might usually be.

It all makes sense when the man himself opens the door. While Killian has taken care to dress neatly in a trim, dark colored suit and tie, making his best attempt at the appearance of professionalism, Madigan is a riot of colors and patterns that Killian isn’t entirely certain match, but seem fitting all the same. Behind him, the entry hall is decorated in a jewel-tone blue with golden patterns and baseboards, but that makes a little more sense now that Killian has seen the man himself.

“Are you here about the vaudeville acts? Because I’m afraid that we’re rather moved on from that idea,” he says without introduction, words tumbling one right over the other in a jumble.

“I… No,” Killian manages to stutter out. A question like that has a way of putting a man off-guard. “I was led to believe you were in need of a secretary or assistant?”

“Ah. That makes more sense.” Mr. Madigan nods as if to cement it in his head. “Have you done that kind of work before?”

“No, Sir.”

“Well, that’s fine, I’ve never had a secretary before either.” By the look on his face, Madigan would be much more comfortable conducting an interview for a vaudeville actor than a secretary. “Then can you… I don’t know. Read and write and do sums? File things? I don’t think I’ve ever filed something in my life,” he mutters to himself.

“Yes, Sir. To all of it.”

“Well then good, you’re hired. Do you think I need to be filing things? It’s something I’ve never really thought about before.”

Jefferson, as he prefers to be called (“Don’t even try that Mr. Madigan nonsense, I won’t answer to it.”), is planning a circus - what Killian imagines is the venue he’s heard about for a decade and a half. And it sounds magnificent the way Jefferson describes it - something otherworldly. More an entire sensory experience than just a show, spanning dozens of tents and food stands and performers scattered across the grounds. The way he envisions it, the endeavor is more experience than anything else - simultaneously a performance space and a theater and a zoo and a venue for all kinds of edible delicacies. Perhaps carnival would be the better word, but Jefferson insists on circus. 

“There’s a sense of mystery to the word, Killian,” he decrees while jotting down what is doubtless another half-baked idea on the back of a receipt. “Anyone can hold a carnival, but a circus… marvelous, magical things happen at the circus. It will look better in the papers anyways.”

(Killian will need to do so much filing to keep all this in order.)

It quickly becomes obvious that Jefferson is primarily an ideas man - and while his ideas are spectacular in so many ways, he needs assistance in bringing those ideas to life. It’s immediately obvious why he needs an assistant; for a man who spends so much of his time with his head in the clouds, lost in ideals and fanciful imagining, it’s hard to manage the practicalities of the day-to-day implementation. 

There are investors of course, men who flit in and out of the planning at will as if just to make sure that their money is actually being used properly. Killian isn’t fully surprised to see his mentor is one of them; doubtless, that’s how he knew to direct Killian to Jefferson’s door in the first place. He doubts that anyone else truly remembers the man, however; Killian has long since learned to recognize the cloak of forgetability his teacher likes to draw around himself. 

(There are different kinds of power, Killian has learned over the years - the kind that comes from everyone knowing what you can do, and the kind that comes from no one knowing what you can do.)

Killian learns that he is a late addition, comparatively speaking; a small collection of people have already been met on the matter, creating a small stack of roughly sketched plans that he’s sure will inevitably grow by the day. Jefferson holds a reputation, Killian has learned, for a series of elaborate late-night soirées known only as Midnight Dinners, famously exclusive events with over a dozen exotic courses and unmatched entertainments. Jefferson is a producer by trade, an entertainer in every bit of his being, and these private entertainments may be the pinnacle of his accomplishments.

(Or may have been, at least; Killian has a feeling that this circus he envisions may surpass anything else.)

The circus is born at one of these dinners - an intimate one, with only five attendees, handpicked by Jefferson as the men and women necessary to bring his vision to life. The vaguest outline was sketched that first night, tacked to the walls in the emerald green study Jefferson has set aside especially for the circus and its plans. Already, there is a stack of opened envelopes on a side table, filled with ideas the other attendees simply couldn’t hold onto until the next meeting.

They’re an interesting collection, certainly. Madame Constance Blue is a former opera singer who’s found a second career in fashion. Her eye for color and aesthetic is fabled as being unmatched - a talent she brings to this endeavor to create a cohesive environment that looks like another world on the outskirts of the city. Elsa and Anna Frost are a pair of sisters, socialites who have tried a little bit of everything, from a stint in the ballet and art school to a time as librarians they will only speak about after great persuasion. Where Madame Blue may create a visual environment for the circus, the Misses Frost are experts on the feel - all of the rest of those details from the positioning of signage to the very scents in the air, those details that so few consider but still manage to sell or doom an experience. Their little group, most meetings, is rounded out by Mr. August Booth, an architect and engineer by trade, who draws up marvelous plans for each tent and attraction. All of it embodies an elegant simplicity centered around a series of circles, one curve bleeding into another in a way that feels organic, nearly living. It makes the straight black and white stripes of the tents all the more striking in contrast to this world of elegant curves. One contributor’s work bleeds into the other, all with Jefferson at the helm to lend his ideas of what kinds of things should be presented, creating a venue that feels like a realization of all their dreams.

(The last attendee, Mr. Gold - who betrays no indication that he and Killian are even remotely acquainted - has no particular, obvious specialty that he lends to the endeavor. In fact, he barely seems to speak and is nearly forgotten in the rest of the bustle of the Circus Dinners. Somehow, though, even if no one can put their finger on what exactly Mr. Gold does, it is agreed that his contributions are essential, and that everything runs smoother and more productively at those few dinners he does attend.)

(He is always referred to by surname; though the other attendees are certain they were told his first name upon first introduction, they have no memory of what that moniker might be, and decide it would be rude to ask. )

With each dinner, the Circus fleshes out a little bit more, each piece carefully filed away so it can all fit together later. There are designs for the gates and August’s wonderful blueprints for the butterfly tents and lists of confections that must be offered. As time keeps churning forward, the members of their little dinner group increasingly start to travel, seeking out the perfect craftsmen and performers and creators to bring this endeavor to life. There are acrobats training in France and an intricate clock being crafted in Germany and Jefferson and Killian will be travelling to Scotland next week to see about a pair of big cat trainers as August travels to Austria to see about some trained horses.

But tonight, they’re all here for dinner, and there’s an unexpected guest at the door. A tall, slender woman, who claims to be a sword swallower.

“What’s the harm?” Jefferson asks when Killian informs him cautiously, sweeping his arm in a grand motion. The Circus Dinners are exclusive, and nearly sacred, but she’s here about the circus. And Jefferson has always been generous by nature. “Show her in, Jones, we’ll set another plate at the table.”

The woman introduces herself as Mulan - no second name, and no indication whether that’s her given name or surname. As the clock strikes midnight and the first plates are brought out, she climbs the low dais usually reserved for a pianist and begins her demonstration.

And it is so much more than just a sword swallowing act. Mulan moves with an almost supernatural grace, whirling her blades in an intricate and deadly dance. She tosses her swords and balances them on the tips of fingers and the ridge of her chin. And she does send the swords down her gullet, in ways that make Anna and Elsa and even composed August gasp. Each move blends one into another into another, beautiful in a savage way that leaves them all on the edge of their seats as she twirls and even flips. It mesmerizes their little audience, as delicate appetizers sit untouched on their plates.

At the conclusion of her display, Mulan resheathes her swords with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal before executing a dramatic bow, nearly bending in half in the process. Their audience erupts into applause; across from Killian, Jefferson springs to his feet in a standing ovation.

“Brilliant! Simply brilliant!” Jefferson darts up to the platform to shake Mulan’s hand vigorously, much to her apparent amusement. “We simply must have you for the circus. A platform out in the open in the crowds, right near the center, don’t you think, Elsa?”

“It certainly would be a shame to hide her away in a tent,” the blonde agrees. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone else to match her talent, either. Would you be comfortable with that? Performing to a passing crowd?” she addresses Mulan to finish. 

Mulan nods solemnly, though a slight smile dances in her eyes and on her lips. “My skills are not limited by venue, you’ll find.”

“Excellent!” Jefferson crows. “You know, this is exactly what the Circus should be. More than expected. Anything but mundane. Up close and pressing past anything seen before and - oh! It’s just perfect. Welcome to the Circus, Madame.”

Jefferson’s words become a mantra as they move forward - to push boundaries, to seek people and things that are more than anyone would ever imagine.

It is what may become the making of the circus.

———

Looking back, once they come to know one another better, Killian will find it fitting that he meets Belle in a used book store.

He’s taken to wandering these stores on his rare days off with a pair of notebooks in his jacket pocket - one for little bits of magical research, and the other for chronicling any ideas he might stumble across for the Circus. Over time, Killian has discovered that odd, unusual, and even historic tomes have a way of accumulating in used bookshops, overlooked and nearly lost to time. On shelves such as these, Killian has located alchemical treatises and books of magical theory and even a potions compendium that appeared to the untrained eye to be a simple accounting of folk remedies. In a way, he supposes that’s right; it just overlooks the dash of magic that’s an extra, if necessary ingredient. These old bookstores are a good source, too, of unusual and exotic attractions and obscure ideas for confections. Whenever Killian stumbles across something he hasn’t seen before that he thinks will be of use, he records it carefully in the pertinent notebook, one tucked into each of his coat pockets, before purchasing the volume or returning it to its place on the so-often messy and cluttered shelves. 

This particular day had been less than fruitful, though Killian would never call it wasted. Even if he doesn’t manage to excavate any scrap of information, the whole environment is calming - something Killian sorely needs, more often than not. He walks back to his flat at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the crisp fall day, when he suddenly realizes - 

One of his pockets is lighter than it ought to be. 

Quickly, Killian doubles back to the bookshop. This isn’t the first time this has happened - it’s all too easy to accidentally leave a little leather-bound notebook on a shelf in an environment full of other leather-bound books, and Killian does remember pulling out the notebook to record a particular line of a spell he’d remembered he had already recorded just as soon as his pencil had lifted off the page. A quick check of the notebook in his other pocket reveals that it is, indeed, his magic notes that are missing. It’s a mild irritant, but nothing unusual for a man with a million other things on his mind.

What is more unusual, however, is to turn the corner only to see a young woman outside the shop, paging through what appears to be his own notes with a look of marked interest on her face.

She’s pretty, Killian notes, with prim brunette curls that frame her face below a beribboned, feathered hat and a petite frame that seems dwarfed by the yellow dress beneath a neat burgundy jacket. He only spares a moment to look, however, before he intervenes for the sake of his book. If she’s half as clever as that intent crinkle in her brow suggests, it may be too late.

The young lady jerks her head to attention as Killian clears his throat, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “I believe you have something of mine,” he comments, nodding towards the book in her hand. 

“Ah, yes.” She carefully closes the pages, handing the little notebook back to him. “You’ll be Mr. Jones, then?” Killian nods an affirmative as he takes the book back - not that it stops her string of thoughts. “I do promise that I was trying to bring it back, sir - I saw you leave it down that one aisle where the cat particularly likes to sleep - but you had already left and, I see now, most likely had turned a corner and, well, I’ve already been a little curious and I just couldn’t resist flipping through the pages and —”

“Miss, it’s fine” he smiles. “I’m just relieved to have it back. That little notebook is indispensable to me.”

“I recognize some of the symbols in there,” his companion blurts out. Killian is discovering she has a tendency to do that while nervous. “Alchemical symbols, and astrological ones. Not the rest, but… well, those are all over the pages.”

“And what would you know about alchemical and astrological symbols? Seems an unusual hobby for a proper young lady, Miss…”

“Belle French. I read a lot of books.”

“Books on alchemy and astrology?”

“Yes.” She blushes again. “I came into possession of a deck of tarot cards a few years ago. It seemed worth doing my research. The alchemical bits were an accident that expanded into a separate research project.”

“You read the tarot then? I wouldn’t have expected that of a dignified lady like yourself.”

“Only for myself,” she admits. “It’s not precisely something you can practice at the average tea party. I find myself more curious what a proper young man like yourself,” she mocks his own tone, “is doing with a notebook full of such symbols.”

“Perhaps I, too, accidentally conducted extensive research into alchemy.”

Miss French fixes him with a skeptical look. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What’s the real reason?”

Killian sighs. “That’s… rather a longer story. Best settled somewhere else, if it must be told. Would you care to join me at a bistro I know?”

That should be the end of the matter. No proper young woman would agree to such a thing.

But Miss Belle French seems to be no such proper young woman, and she says yes.

It takes a hearty sip of wine once they’re settled in Killian’s favorite Parisian-style bistro for him to muster the words to speak. “I am… a student. Of sorts.”

“A student of what?” Miss French asks around her own, more delicate sip.

Now is the moment of truth, where she believes him or she doesn’t. “Of magic.”

Miss French’s brow furrows for just a confusion. “Magic? Like the illusion acts you see at the theaters?”

“A little more than that,” he tries to explain. “It’s… well. When you read your cards, does it feel like some rote interpretation? Or like you’re channeling something, the mere conduit for the cards?”

“The latter, I suppose.”

“That’s a form of magic. A very special one, actually, one that not everyone can find. I can’t.”

“So your… magic isn’t like that then?”

“It’s more like… a secret language,” Killian tries to explain. “It’s something I can find deep within me, and speak into existence.”

His lovely companion still looks unconvinced - not that he can blame her. It’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. “You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t disbelieve you,” she’s careful to say. “But you must admit, Mr. Jones, that it’s an awful lot to take in.”

Killian thinks for a moment, before settling in his mind on a way to prove it. “Is there anywhere you’ve ever wanted to go? Someplace you’ve never seen, but always wanted to?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the beach, and see the ocean,” she replies wistfully.

“I can make that happen.”

“With your magic, I suppose?”

“Yes. Do you trust me?”

Miss French hesitates for just a moment before nodding. 

“Then take my hands, and close your eyes.”

With her soft hands in his own, Killian draws upon the words, murmuring them into the back corner of the cafe where they sit. Slowly, the dim lighting and faint smell of smoke dissipates, replaced by warm sunlight and the faint rush of the tide coming in.

Miss French opens her eyes without his asking, gasping as she takes in the illusion of an environment he’s created. Gulls circle overhead; were she to remove her shoes, she’d feel soft sand beneath her toes, stretching as far as the eye can see.

“It’s marvelous,” she breathes. “And you did all this?”

“Aye. And I can do much more.”

It’s evident that in this moment, at least, she doesn’t care about much more; she’s too enthralled with the ocean in front of her. 

“You know, Mr. Jones, I think we were meant to meet today,” she murmurs. “And I don’t even need the cards to say it.”

She becomes a friend, over time, over cups of tea and discussions of his studies and her practice with her tarot cards; the first real friend he’s ever had. Mr. Gold doesn’t approve, claiming that she’s a distraction, but Killian doesn’t much care. She makes his life better, in those hours he isn’t called away by the circus. And as the planning rolls on, turning into reality, she lends a listening ear every step of the way. 

Neither of them can predict how much will change with the hiring of the illusionist.

———

It’s been years of this - the constant preparing for something she doesn’t fully understand, of being tested, being pushed to what Emma believes are her very limits before discovering that she still has more to give, to bleed, to learn. A sense of anticipation hangs over her entire life, such as it is, and she doesn’t even know what she’s waiting for, or how long it will take to get here. Regina has told her time and again to be patient, that things will become clearer in time, that this isn’t something frivolous, you foolish girl, you can’t rush it, but Emma has never been one for patience. She is 24, and it has been 18 years, and there is still no sign of whatever this competition is, or will be.

Until one day, a neat envelope appears on the dressing table in Emma’s room in the ostentatious flat she has shared with Regina since the very beginning whenever they’re in London.

It would be in your best interest to present yourself at the below address on June the 19th.

The missive isn’t signed, but Emma doesn’t need a signature anyways; it’s evident in the neat gilt letters on the crisp cream-colored parchment that this message is from the man with the cane. Mr. Gold, half a memory whispers, though he’s done his very best to remove himself from memory. There is no postmark, and no messenger; it is clear to Emma that this card has appeared without the intervention of a human hand. Not that the man she suspects would need such mundane means to deliver a message. Emma has grown up surrounded by and steeped in magic, and she has long since learned to recognize true power - and even though she was only a child the single time she met the man with the gold-tipped cane, she’d felt even then the magic clustered all around him like metal filings to a magnet. To a man like that, delivery of this message would be the easiest thing in the world. 

There’s a newspaper clipping too, Emma realizes as she slowly moves to find and show her teacher. It’s an advertisement, seeking an illusionist, with the address of a modest theater at which she should apply.

Seeking an extraordinary individual to marvel and amaze, the cramped newsprint proclaims. An unmatched opportunity to become part of an unprecedented entertainment spectacle.

“What have you got there?” Regina asks when Emma enters their parlor, examining every inch of the message and its attached advertisement. The words are closer to a demand than an inquiry, but Emma isn’t particularly surprised; these kinds of interactions have always been her teacher’s modus operandi. 

“A note. I found it on my dressing table.” Carefully, Emma passes the documents to Regina for the other woman’s examination. As Regina reads the words, a devious kind of smile inches its way across her face. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” she asks Emma with that same odd smile. It only widens when Emma shakes her head in the negative. “It means we’ve reached the beginning.”

And with those six words, the next phase of Emma’s life begins.

———

Killian thought he knew what to expect - but he never expected her.

They’d placed advertisements in all the major papers, seeking an illusionist for the circus - a magician. Jefferson, for all his endless inspiration and imagination, has never realized that the most fitting candidate for this particular job has been silently at his side for the past two years, through every bit of planning. Jefferson never realizes that there’s a reason that this has all come together unnaturally smoothly, as if aided by unseen forces.

Jefferson, for all his endless imagination, will never believe that humans are capable of anything more than illusion, will never believe that true magic is possible.

(That’s for the best, really; Mr. Gold just needs a pawn to create a venue, and Killian… well, Killian just wants, nay, needs to limit the collateral lives disrupted for the purposes of this competition.)

Attending the auditions as Jefferson’s personal secretary to record any decisions ultimately made, Killian expects a long parade of conmen, of charlatans and fakers and all the normal cast of characters that pass for magicians in a world that refuses to see the truth. And he gets them in spades, with card tricks and pretty assistants and poorly behaved rabbits who are more interested in exploring the legs of the mezzanine chairs than disappearing into hats. Maybe those kinds of displays would be good enough for most undertakings; the public will be expecting the normal sort of “magic” displays, after all. 

But this is for the circus - and the circus must be more than that. 

(It’s for exactly that reason that Killian draws a tricky bit of magic about himself that he picked up from his mentor years ago - a charm to smother any traces of magic about him, to make him seem so ordinary that strangers’ eyes don’t bother to linger. He may expect a long line of fakes, but on the off chance this attracts someone of more genuine talent… Killian isn’t taking any chances.)

Killian never even sees her coming. It’s their last appointment of the day after a chain of disappointments, and frankly, he’s ready for a cup of tea, or perhaps a glass of something stronger. But then the young man who works at the theater is clearing his throat to announce the next applicant, and Killian looks up —

And it’s her. 

The woman before him is beautiful - collected, quiet, but with a confidence that shows in her bearing, in the straightness of her spine and the sure look on her face. She wears an emerald green dress with a black velvet jacket with trailing sleeves, and she looks a picture - possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks more suited to fashionable tea rooms, or strolling along the street to perhaps visit an acquaintance, or any of those other ordinary things women of means and unnatural beauty do with their days. It’s obvious, though, that ordinary is the last word that could be used to describe her. Even from across the room, he can sense the magic that clings to her skin like traces of ink - true magic, not the facsimiles he’s suffered through all day. 

He knows immediately that this woman - whoever she may be - is the opponent he’s been anticipating for 18 years, since he was only 8 years old, and the knowledge simultaneously exhilarates and terrifies him.

(Even if he’s been working for two years to help bring this competition, this circus to life, it suddenly feels real to see his competitor across from him, flesh and blood and blond curls.)

(He has no business forming an attachment, but she already fascinates him on a level far more personal than professional.)

“Your name?” Killian hears Jefferson ask, as if from a distance. That’s not the reality of this situation, really; his employer sits in the seat right in front of Killian’s own, barely two feet apart. It’s hard to focus on anything else, though, with an angel standing in front of them all. 

“Emma Swan,” she answers. Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s sure, and with its own particular melody. “I understand you’re looking for an illusionist.”

“We are indeed, Miss Swan. And do you believe you’re the man - my pardon, woman for the job?” Jefferson wears what Killian has learned is his most charming smile, and Killian feels an unwarranted flash of irritation. Can’t he see this creature isn’t for him? Isn’t some simpering young girl to melt at his attentions?

(It’s a relief to see that, while Miss Swan does smile back, it’s only a smirk of seeming amusement. She’s here for other things, they both know, even if Jefferson doesn’t.)

“That’s for your judgement, isn’t it?” As Emma poses the question, she carefully strips out of her jacket, only to toss it carelessly towards a chair. As the fabric sails through the air, however, it miraculously turns into a raven, circling the room before landing back in one of the investors’ laps, abruptly a stack of folded velvet once more. Miss Swan may make it look easy, nearly thoughtless, but it’s evident to Killian that she’s performed a very impressive piece of magic - and evident to all those less observant as well. The amused little smirk returns as Miss Swan calmly folds her hands atop the green satin of her dress. “But I believe so, yes.”

What follows is exactly the impressive spectacle of magic they’d hoped to find, but Killian never believed they would.

The gentlemen’s handkerchiefs turn into doves, which fly to perch at the edge of the stage. The delicate flowers of the wallpaper peel from the walls to beautiful, fragrant life. At one point, their chairs all lift to hover a foot above the ground. One trick flows into the next, and into the next again, all conducted by the extraordinary Miss Swan with graceful hands and barely any appearance of effort. It feels like the entire audience, small though it might be, holds its breath as the magician completes her display, conjuring her crisply folded jacket back into a raven. In a flurry of feathers, the bird dives towards its mistress as the audience watches anxiously, only to reappear as a drapery once again on the pale, delicate arms of the enchanting Miss Swan. 

Ahead of Killian, Jefferson and the other producers explode into a flurry of applause - a well earned ovation, in his not-so-humble opinion. That was… spectacular. Amazing. Magical.

“Bravo, Miss Swan!” Jefferson calls, jumping nimbly up the stairs at the front of the stage to shake her hand. “I think you’re just the thing we’ve been looking for. Won’t she look lovely, Constance?”

“She’ll make a statement, certainly,” Madame Blue replies. This might be the closest Killian has seen the formidable woman to satisfaction. “We’ll have to plan the wardrobe carefully, of course. Something… striking. A bit out of the ordinary, with outer layers to remove. That trick with the jacket was extraordinary,” she finally addresses the subject of their discussion. “I imagine you’ll want to incorporate it.”

“I had planned to in some form, yes,” Miss Swan confirms. “Is there a particular… concern you have about my clothing?”

“Please don’t mistake us, Miss Swan,” Jefferson hurries to assure her. “You look absolutely lovely. We’re trying to create an entire atmosphere in this endeavor, you see. An entire circus, all in black and white and silver. Including its members. Madame Blue, here, is an invaluable help in creating that.”

“I see,” Miss Swan nods. “So I suppose you’re thinking something more like this?” 

As she speaks, they’re treated to one final trick, as the green of her skirts flees at the touch of a finger, changing to pearly skirts that slowly give way to an ink black hem. As with every display of her magic, it’s graceful, effortless; more than that, as her dress completes its transformation, skirts widening to a dramatic sweep in the process, she looks like the very essence of everything they want the circus to be. 

Killian gapes. Madame Blue nods approvingly. Jefferson beams.

“Splendid! Oh, absolutely marvelous. Never tell me how you do that. Yes, that will do very nicely indeed, Miss Swan. You’re hired.”

As if anyone else would ever do.

———

Killian shows up at Liam’s door that night, to the small but comfortable apartment a junior banker shouldn’t yet be able to afford on his salary.

(He’s always been sure to care for his brother, the same way his brother always cared for him.)

He must look a wreck when Liam opens the door, as his brother moves to pour them both a measure of rum without even being asked. His neat necktie has been loosened in the past hour and his hair is doubtless a riot from running his hand up the back, but Killian thinks it’s more whatever look he wears on his face that spurs Liam into action.

“I met them today. Her,” Killian finally confides once they’re both settled into the plush, if hideous armchairs in front of the fire.

“Who’s this, now?”

“My competitor.” Killian attempts a chuckle, but can’t quite manage it. “This game I’ve been prepared for for so long… the other person was always just some amorphous concept. Of course there’d be a competitor, it’s a game. But… I met her today, Liam.”

Liam takes another sip from his tumbler. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”

Killian fiddles with the scar on his thumb as he thinks, the seared band of skin the contract tying him to this competition. It doesn’t bother him, never has, really; most days, he wears a silver ring to conceal the mark from the many curious eyes in Jefferson’s winding townhome, but he’s taken the piece of jewelry off tonight. Tonight is a night for confession, for laying his myriad of confused feelings on the table, not for concealment. 

“I don’t know that it’s bad, per se,” he finally replies. “It’s just… she was never a person until today. I know I’ve been working with Jefferson and his colleagues for two years to bring the venue for this competition to life, but meeting a real, live person is something else. It made it real, in a way.”

“And you’d rather it wasn’t,” Liam infers.

Killian says nothing, ready to neither confirm nor deny that. It’s been an unexpected day, and he’s still trying to process the novelty of having a name and a face. This has been years of his life - 18 years of them - and it finally feels like the waiting is done. 

Liam tries again. “What’s she like, then?”

“Composed.” It’s too stiff a word for the vibrant creature he witnessed today, but it’s the first that comes to mind. She’d seemed perfectly composed, fully in control of everything around her. There’s more than that, though. “She was confident, mostly, in that kind of understated way where you could tell she knew exactly what she was doing without ever having to brag about it. She seemed bloody brilliant, honestly,” Killian admits.

“That sounds like an awful lot of admiration for a woman you’re supposed to view as your foe,” Liam comments with that lift of the brow Killian adopted himself years and years ago. 

“She’s beautiful,” Killian says simply. “She’s perfectly lovely, and honestly? I don’t really want to battle her.”

“So what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” Killian replies truthfully.

He never expected this knowledge to create more questions than answers.

(Killian is beginning to think that just may be the way of this competition; frustration and confusion at every turn.)

(As his mentor has so often says: magic comes with a price.)

———

Now that he knows his competition, it becomes obvious that Miss Swan has an advantage over Killian: while he may exist outside the Circus, maneuvering the board from afar, she’ll live right in the heart of it, manipulating things from within. After all these years, Killian still only knows that the Circus is meant to be a venue for him to test and stretch his abilities beyond anything he ever imagined until, inexplicably, one of them is crowned the winner. From his standpoint, Miss Swan will find that much easier, as she doesn’t have a distance to reckon with. Hell, he won’t even know when she makes a move, so to speak.

Unexpectedly, it is Belle who finds a solution to that. 

“I could be your spy, you know,” she proposes. They’ve long since abandoned formal last names and proper tea shops for lounging in his flat, her with a book and he with one of his notebooks or some circus plans he’s perfecting. So, too, has Belle long since been apprised of all the misty particulars of this competition.

Killian frowns. “I don’t follow.”

“Well, you need a way to hear the news of the circus, right? Everything this Miss Swan does, at least in regards to the Circus. All the little changes she might make.”

“That’s right.”

“And it’s true, too, that the Circus still needs a fortune teller.”

Realization slowly dawns. “Belle, I couldn’t ask you to —”

“You’re not asking; I’m offering,” she interrupts. “I can read my cards for visitors. You’ll be so busy with the Circus, anyways, and making your own moves in this competition, that we’ll barely see each other anymore. You can arrange that, right? To hire me as the fortune teller?”

“Of course - but Belle, are you certain?”

“Nothing is ever certain, Killian,” she scolds affectionately, good-naturedly. “But I want to help. And besides, I’ve always wanted to see the world. What better opportunity will I find, or make?”

When Killian personally vouches for Belle to Jefferson, her hiring is arranged as quickly as promised. He can’t help but feel like this is a mistake, somehow, but the benefits are undeniable. Belle packs her bags and promises to be a faithful correspondent - a promise he knows she’ll admirably fulfill.

(He tries not to think about how she’s one more life he’s tied to the Circus, one more article of collateral damage if and when this all ends.)

———

After so long in her contained world, constantly under Regina’s critical eye, Emma finds she loves the communal atmosphere of the circus. Emma’s little compartment is so much more compact than the rooms she’s grown used to over the years, but there’s a particular coziness that feels more comfortable than anything she’s known before. Maybe it’s the knowledge that this space is truly hers, without monitoring or judgement. She lines the walls with spell books and herbal manuals and silly novels, hangs cages for her doves from the ceiling, shoves a small desk in one corner and a well padded armchair in the other, and spreads a brightly pieced quilt over the bunk’s mattress. She makes it home, in a way she’d never thought she’d achieve. 

(She’s wanted a home since she was a child, went with Regina in partial hope that she’d find one, but it’s only now at the age of 24 that she’s made it with her own two hands and a good bit of magic.)

She watches the circus come together too, in staging grounds just outside of London. Each tent is carefully constructed in black and white stripes, though their height and circumference vary. The acrobats’ tents soar the highest, starting to fade into the starry skies to accommodate the trapezes and tightropes beneath the cloth surface. On the other end of the spectrum the fortune teller’s tent is barely large enough for two people and a table. 

Emma’s tent is somewhere in between. It’s not large, by any means, but there’s enough space for a clearing at the center and two rows of chairs circling all the way around the edges. It’s interactive, in a way Emma never imagined a theater could be when she was a child under Regina’s care. Then again, it’s not really a theater, is it? It’s more a… space. An arena. Truthfully, Emma isn’t sure there’s a word for the intimate feel of this arrangement. Her audience will be right there, enhancing the display in a way Emma hadn’t imagined. Then again, when you’re practicing true magic instead of illusion, you don’t need that extra separation. 

Once it’s time to eventually move on, the whole venue has been carefully constructed to fold and stow away into a series of boxcars and containers for transport. It’s all a little unbelievable, really, the ease with which something so sprawling can stow so neatly away. There’s an atmosphere at the circus, however, even amongst its members, that anything might happen, and the logistics are never questioned as the specially hired crew of workers scurry about, practicing folding and unfolding each tent into their respective boxcars. Maybe they already know that something supernatural is at work; the longer Emma spends at the circus, the more she wonders if this is the one place on Earth where magic can exist in plain sight without question.

(There’s something about the traces of magic at the folds and joints of each structure that feels familiar in a way Emma can’t quite put her finger on - like she’s encountered it before. It’s a rare trace of her competitor in an environment where she still doesn’t know their identity.)

If the circus is the first real home Emma’s ever found, then its members may be her first real family. She’s always felt… different, all too aware of how her abilities have set her apart from other people since she was a little girl. The wonderful thing that she’s discovered is that everyone is a little odd at the circus, even without magic. There are contortionists and animal tamers and acrobats and all manner of other performers, all good people who don’t fit within the bounds of conventional society. Even the vendors, the souvenir sellers and the concession dealers, are the kind of people more willing to believe in the unusual without question. It’s a welcoming, accepting, happy environment that Emma revels in.

There are individuals that Emma makes particular friends with. Ruby, who, along with her husband Graham, works with wolves , is an absolute spitfire who keeps them all entertained with her wit and predictions for the circus. Mary Margaret, who performs tricks with a flock of trained birds, and her husband David, one of the stagehands, are as sweet a couple as Emma’s ever seen and determined to spread that love to everyone else around them as well. It feels a little like they’ve adopted her as an adult child, set upon caring for her in any way they can, and Emma finds she kind of likes it. 

(There’s the fortune teller, too - Belle, a kind and quiet woman that Emma is friendly with, if not close. Somehow, Emma gets the feeling that Belle knows more about this whole thing than anyone else, but can’t put her finger on why. She’d know if the petite little brunette was her opponent, she’s sure; surely she’d sense her opponent’s own magic, the way she can always see the way her own gathers like dozens of little stray hairs about her person.)

There’s a feeling of comradery amongst the group of them, of family. They’re a stability that Emma craves in the midst of all this uncertainty, a support system even if she can’t reveal the stakes she’s facing. As simple a word as it is, they’re friends, and that’s a thing that’s been sorely lacking Emma’s entire life. 

Mulan, however, is a different story. It’s not that they’re not friends - Emma would say that they’re consistently friendly. Emma had immediately noticed the way magic had clung to the other woman in the same way that it does to herself. Here, Mulan may be a sword swallower, but she’s undeniably a powerful magician too. 

“This isn’t the first time that such a competition has been staged,” Mulan tells her over tea as her spoon stirs in sugar without apparent human hand, a thread of magic spooling and unspooling about the metal over and over again.

“So how do I win, then?” If Mulan has been in her shoes before - and indeed, the other woman’s particular brand of magic suggests she trained under Emma’s own mentor, Regina - then this could be a critical advantage for Emma.

But Mulan shakes her head. “That’s something you have to discover in your own time. I’m here merely as… an observer. Support, perhaps. But not to interfere.”

(Even as she says the words, Emma can see a sadness in Mulan’s eyes that sends a stab of foreboding through Emma’s heart.)

There’s an entire universe of possibilities contained within the wrought iron gates, different ways this all could play out. Emma feels within her heart that even if the circus hasn’t opened, the competition has already begun; after all, she’s already tied her own magic to its construction, the way it expands and contracts and travels, lending her own abilities to those enchantments someone else already set. 

There will be a chance to test that tomorrow, as all of this is folded up and moved to where the circus will celebrate its opening night in barely 72 hours’ time. It’s a delicate business, but will be worth it when the effect is finally unveiled - or at least Emma hopes it will be. It’s hard to imagine anyone not loving the circus, in all its wonder, just as much as they do, but dozens of lives are tied to the circus - now dozens of homes and salaries and futures. It’s hard not to feel a little nervous about all that is to come, for their sakes if not her own. 

Above the ticketing booths at the front gates of the circus sits an enormous cuckoo clock, with figures and designs constantly shifting, changing from black to white and back again. Emma likes to come and watch the clock in the moments she takes for herself; there’s something about the simple, elegant mechanics that calms her, shows her the beauty that can exist without magic. Her entire world will change once again once the circus opens its gates for the first time, but the clock is a reminder that change is more than inevitable - it is natural, and sometimes even good. 

As the clock ticks the minutes away overhead, Emma closes her eyes and centers herself. All around her, she can feel the energies of all the people who bring the circus to life - happy and excited and good, in a way she hadn’t known existed. All these lives in her hands, caught up in this competition without even knowing it.

And Emma will do her damndest to protect every one.

———

There’s a party, the night before the circus opens its gates for the first time, at the lavish townhouse of the circus’ proprietor. It’s perfectly in keeping with what Emma knows of the man; Jefferson - as he insists on being called, damn the proprieties - is generous by nature, despite (or perhaps because of) his eccentricities. Where anyone else would balk at the collected mass of the Circus’ players and crew showing up on their doorstep and traipsing through their halls, Jefferson welcomes them with open arms, seeming to delight in the chaos they might bring with them. 

At the Circus, they might be clad in black and white and every shade in between, but Jefferson’s halls are a riot of color tonight - and not just due to his bold decorating preferences. The circus members have truly let loose for the occasion, in a wide array of colors and patterns - green stripes and purple layered on blue and polka-dotted waistcoats, all melding together into a unique symphony of hues never seen before or since. Emma herself wears a red gown that makes her feel like a princess, with long sleeves and a scooped neckline and beading along the bust. Technically, the dress has looked far different when she started with it - a dark navy blue and rather more demure than this end result, though the cloth itself was of good quality - but she’s always had a deft hand with fabrics. It comes in handy in her small train car room, where she really only has room for a single trunk unless she gets magically creative with her storage space.

The party is, by all appearances, a roaring success. Dinner features the widest variety of options imaginable, featuring dishes seemingly from every corner of the globe. There are fountains of chocolate and tiny little bites of meat and vegetables and the most delicate pastries Emma has ever eaten in her life. After dinner, there’s music and dancing and gaming tables in the parlor. The hired band keeps playing a series of merry dance numbers, reels and jigs and the occasional waltz. It’s joyful, happiness permeating every inch of Jefferson’s brightly colored mansion that makes the whole place shine in a way that has nothing to do with any candles or oil lamps.

Personally, Emma is happier along the edges of rooms, observing everything else that goes on around her. It’s not that she’s somehow opposed to the festivities; far from it, at fact. She easily allows herself to be talked into taking turns on the dance floor with David and Ruby even a delighted Jefferson when they ask her with a smile and, in Ruby’s case, a rather insistent and intoxicated tug towards the dance floor. She knows the steps; she knows the rules. But it is hard, sometimes, after a childhood spent largely alone, to throw herself willingly into the heart of it all. It’s intimidating, in a way. At the heart of things, it’s less overwhelming to observe, a wallflower by choice.

From her own vantage point, however, it’s impossible not to notice another soul doing the same thing - sticking to the walls and to the shadows, absorbing everything while engaging with none of it. The person in question is a man - strikingly handsome, with dark hair and sharp cheekbones that make him look a little dangerous. He’s the kind of man who should have no problem finding a dance partner, if he so desired, but he waits along the edges, the same as her. What’s even more curious is that Emma has no idea who he is. Emma isn’t fool enough to claim that she’s intimate friends with each and every person in the Circus - there’s far too many for that - but she does recognize them by sight, at least. It’s an inevitable result of living and working with people in such a tight-knit environment as the Circus. This man isn’t one of them. Curiously, she still has the feeling that he’s familiar, somehow. She can’t quite put a finger on why; it’s like a whisper in her ear, that she knows him in a way she doesn’t yet understand. 

(She sees him looking, too, when he thinks she hasn’t noticed. Maybe he feels this curious deja vu as well.)

At one point, she notices Mulan speaking briefly with the mystery man - nothing more than a few words, but enough to catch her attention.

“Who is that?” Emma asks the next time Mulan passes her by, dressed in regalia that looks more like armor than a dress. It suits her, in a way something more traditional wouldn’t have. “That man in the corner?”

“By that particularly ugly bronze bust?” Emma nods. “That’s Jefferson’s personal secretary. Killian Jones. I’m surprised you haven’t met him before - he follows Jefferson everywhere, records everything. Jefferson won’t on his own.”

Maybe that’s where Emma recognizes him from; it would make sense that he’d have been at her audition, just another face in the crowd. That must account for this odd sense of familiarity.

Mulan waits patiently as Emma turns the information over in her head, as if waiting for her to ask another question. For the life of her, she can’t imagine what that might be.

“I didn’t know that,” she finally replies. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Mulan nods. “Try and have a little fun tonight. It’s not like we’ll have another chance for this for a long while.”

“I promise I am. Even without the dancing.”

“Good.”

(There’s a little tickle at the back of her neck that says Mulan isn’t sharing the whole story, but Emma doesn’t pry further. The other woman plays her cards very close to her proverbial vest; she won’t reveal anything except exactly what she deems it necessary for Emma to know.)

As Mulan slides silently back into the crush, Emma steals another glance at the corner, but the man - Killian Jones - is gone.

Not that it matters to her. After all, they’ll likely never meet again.

(It is easy to ignore the little voice that whispers Oh, but you will.)

——— 

The circus opens on a warm June night under a new moon, and it feels like anything might happen. The tents are all set, the costumes sewn, the performers placed along each neatly lined path. All that’s missing is the audience. 

At the very center of the circus is an ornately crafted fire pit, with shoots of burnished metal curling towards the sky in imitation of the flame contained within. Over time, the heat of the fire will heat and scar the metal in its own unique way, creating an ever changing statue. Tonight, in recognition of the circus’ opening night, the bonfire will be lit for the first time at precisely midnight in a ceremony for all to see. 

Tucked into the grate beneath the fire pit, carefully warded against the flame with a series of runes, is a leather-bound book that no one but Killian knows about. The volume is the circus, in a way that he’s proud to have accomplished. Between the covers are pages and pages of plans for each and every tent, ride, and attraction, with magic carved into every line. This is the way that the circus is brought to life - the way it’s assembled and disassembled, the way it operates, the way it exists. At the back is a list of everyone employed by the circus, from Mrs. Lucas who runs the dining car of the train to the day-old twins of one of their vendors, a craftsman and his wife who sell intricate animals carved out of wood so delicately and with such life that they look as if they might begin to cavort across your palm. Each name is accompanied by a single drop of their blood - something so simple, but powerful. It binds them to the circus, protects them; it’s a safeguard, in case something should ever happen.

(Killian hates to think that there might be collateral damage in all this, but it seems inevitable. Mr. Gold and Madame Mills aren’t the types to worry about the chaos they create, as long as they get what they want. This will protect the circus and all the many lives that depend upon it.)

Most significantly, Killian creates a tricky little bit of magic to link the volume under the bonfire, right in the heart of the circus, to another in his own possession. It’s still unclear, in so many ways, exactly what this so-called competition will entail, let alone how long it will last. It seems inevitable that in order for the competition to move forward, additions and changes will need to be made, ways to demonstrate each of their respective powers. A second volume, directly mirroring the first, will allow him to add attractions as the opportunity arises. 

Killian feels somehow in-between as he wanders the grounds of the circus - not one of the performers, but not quite a normal visitor ever. He’s done more to bring this to life than anyone present knows, but it doesn’t feel like a part of him in a way he might have expected. He strolls the paths, cloaked in spells that turn everyone’s attention away from his person so he can place the tome without questioning. That’s fitting, he thinks; he’s not part of the circus in any visual way, now or previously, yet he’s made more of a mark than they’ll ever know. He’s shaped this entire spectacle from the shadows, and his work is only beginning. 

It feels like something settles into place as Killian slides the book into its nook. It’s like the whole circus was just waiting for that final piece, as if a breath has been released and this can all finally begin. Something cements in that moment; some piece of ancient magic more powerful than any rune. All that’s left to do is activate that magic with the lighting of the bonfire.

(There are already firecrackers in place to set off with each tick of the clock leading to midnight, but Killian can sense the traces of someone else’s magic lingering on each charge. It seems Miss Swan has left her mark on the fire in her own way, one that will make this a night to remember for all involved. Their work has long since begun, but they both usher in a new phase with their own mark.)

Killian stays to watch the lighting of the bonfire, still cloaked in the shadows even amongst the crowds of life around him. At a few minutes to midnight, they all assemble around the pit - every performer, every visitor, every vendor. Each and every soul. It’s easy to pick out the audience from the circus members; true to their vision, those who are part of the circus are clad in black and white and silver, alternately blending into the night and reflecting like the brightest stars. They stand stark against everyone else and the usual medley of colors, like elegant wraiths. 

Killian spots, too, Jefferson across the way, and the Frost sisters, and Madame Blue and Mr. Booth, all here to mark the occasion. They’ve participated in the dress code as well, Killian is amused to see - Jefferson in a white suit decked with tiny black stars, and the ladies in varying shades of white and silver and grey. Mr. Booth’s black suit may just be his usual wear, but the silver necktie adds a certain celebratory vibe. Killian’s lips twitch in a smile to see their little group, looking with varying levels of satisfaction (or outright bouncing glee, in Jefferson’s case) on the experience they dreamed and brought to life. It’s not necessary, really, that Killian disguise himself anymore; as Jefferson’s personal secretary, it would seem natural for him to be here to witness this. Killian has ulterior motives for maintaining the cloak, however - namely, watching his opponent, the lovely Miss Swan. 

He’s a little enthralled by her, he’ll admit. Miss Emma Swan is… not what he expected in a competitor. If pressed, Killian will admit that he expected his opposing counterpart to be someone rather like himself - some young man around his age, similarly focused, similarly discreet. Miss Swan - besides being, most obviously, a young woman instead of a young man - wields her magic with an open confidence that he hadn’t expected, at least if her audition and the few times they’ve crossed paths since on circus business are any indication. Then again, it’s not like there’s as much need to hide her magic as Killian always believed; to the public, magic isn’t real after all, and she’s just a circus illusionist. 

(She’s a born performer, is what she is, and Killian looks forward to surreptitiously attending one of her shows tonight to relive the particular thrill of watching Miss Swan in action.)

(As much as Killian tells himself they’re different, there’s something in her eyes that says that’s not quite true - the look of someone who’s been left alone for too long. Maybe they are cut from the same cloth, after all. Not that it matters in situations such as these.)

Ten seconds before midnight, the firecrackers begin setting off in bright bursts of color and pattern, causing an audible gasp of awe from the assembled audience. There are swirls of blue, shoots of red, bursts of gold, all perfectly timed to the second hand of his watch. It’s the purest expression of magic made real, and even though Killian knows to watch for the way Miss Swan’s fingers twist at her side to release each round, it still leaves him in a little bit of awe and wonder. It’s displays like these that first enthralled him to the idea of magic, all those years ago when he was still just a boy; it’s nice to reclaim that even just for a moment. 

At the crescendo, a previously unnoticed archer - a trick-shot they’d hired, who can hit the smallest targets from the greatest distance - releases a single flaming arrow. It lands dead center in the bonfire pit, just above where Killian alone knows the volume containing the circus rests, and ignites it in a chasing line of flame. It roars to beautiful life, illuminating the beautiful joy and wonder on each and every face. 

And just like that - the circus is alive.

———

The circus is a wonder, unmatched by any other.

There’s something otherworldly about it, you think as you take in the sights. There’s a stark elegance and mysticism about the venue and all its players that feels unnatural, in the best way - as if you’ve stumbled out of the real world and into a fairy court, where the very air is laced with magic and anything might happen. 

Each tent is somehow better than the last, and you wander without real purpose between each, trusting fate and your heart to lead the way. Even the winding paths, paved in silvery grey pebbles, hold their own surprises, twisting and curving past all manner of performers on pedestals in the night air. There are contortionists in silver and jugglers with patterned balls and clubs, fire swallowers and concession vendors who smile at you and living statues who move so gradually as to be barely discernible to the naked eye.

It is more than an attraction, you realize as the first rays of light peak over the horizon, illuminating the intricate metalwork of the front gate clock; it’s an experience, a wonder, something that sinks into your very soul and changes you in ways you’re not yet equipped to describe.

The circus lingers in your mind and heart, and you will never be the same again.

[primasveraas-writing]

the only traveler

title from “The Night We Met”

WORD COUNT: 1234

XXX

Haunted by the ghost of you; Take me back to the night we met.

FN-2187 dreams of the man with beautiful dark hair. He watches him being walked down the halls of the Finalizer. He sees him on a far off and unfamiliar planet, donned in an orange jumpsuit and running towards FN-2187. Their bodies collide, and they hug. It’s strange and forbidden, but certainly not unwelcome.

Other times, FN-2187 is trapped and strangled in his dreams, oppressed by a white suit. It’s not his Stormtrooper armor, but it’s just as cumbersome. Except, in his dreams, the suit is wet and leaking, and the beautiful man is there again. The man smiles at the solider, a wide, toothy grin, and the agent of the First Order is certain that these dreams are wrong and traitorous. He tells no one of what he sees, and the dreams continue.

The clearest details from his dreams are of the man, no matter the setting or their apparent circumstances. FN-2187 knows the feeling of the man’s rough hands like he knows the inside of his own bucket. He has that dazzling, gorgeous smile memorized, along with every detail and line of his face.

He sees them holding hands, palms gripped together. The man looks exasperated, and FN-2187 doesn’t know why this, of all things, warms his heart. It’s endearment, but the barest scraps of affection in the First Order never taught him that.

The dreams progress. There is a celebration on a jungle planet, and the solider is looking for the man- he spots the orange jumpsuit amid the crowd of people, and concern leaps into FN-2187’s throat at the sight of the man’s arm in a sling. Then they are embracing, and FN-2187 has never before known the intimacy of another man’s hand clasping the back of his neck, nor the feeling of hugging close enough to feel another person’s breath against his cheek.

The scene changes, but just barely. This time, FN-2187 is wrapped in a hug with two people, the man included. The other, a woman, seems achingly familiar, but FN-2187 can’t see her face to truly place her. Besides, he is holding the man so tightly in his arms that FN-2187 feels as if his heart is going to burst through his chest, even in sleep.

When he wakes after these dreams, time and time again, FN-2187 can feel his face burning. Any shame or contemplation is carefully disguised by his helmet, however, or by the conditioning that teaches the Stormtrooper how to be perfectly neutral and devoid of such things as dreams, imagination, and wonder.

Still, FN-2187 is comforted in sleep, seeing the same images over and over until they are like a home to return to. He’s used to it, and he enjoys it, but he can’t bring himself to say he wishes for it. There is little point in wishing for impossible things.

Even so, the dreams change. As new scenes unfold, the man progressively inches closer to FN-2187, and one night, their lips touch. It’s electric and wonderful, and it leaves FN-2187 burning for more in ways he cannot quite describe.

Nights wear on, and the man never leaves. He kisses FN-2187, hugs him, holds him- does so much more than what FN-2187 can modestly describe. They fall in love- FN-2187 doesn’t quite know what love is, being raised in the First Order, but he imagines that this must be it.

In the dreams, FN-2187 starts wearing a silver band on his left hand. FN-2187 knows enough about the galaxy to understand what this means. He shares a home with the man, spends hours in bed with him, curled up side-by-side. There are children running around, weaving through their legs and groaning when their fathers kiss-

The night before FN-2187 ships out to Jakku, the dreams stop. 

***

Poe Dameron dies on Jakku. Finn escapes the wreckage, but Poe is ripped from the TIE fighter as it hurtles towards the earth. He dies upon impact with the unforgiving, solid dunes.

 The Resistance confirms this after his capture, disappearance, and crash. A few Jakku locals manage to contact the General and give her the news.

***

Leia's grief is one of the first things he feels through the force, although he won't realize it until much later. It seeps through everything, and Finn sees that she likened the pilot to a son. She has lost two children to a war that still rages on, unbothered by the sorrow of those forced into it. 

Finn escapes the First Order thanks to the man from his dreams. It’s not something that even processes until Poe is confirmed dead, and Finn is safe on D’Qar. 

He tells Leia almost everything. How brave Poe was in flying them away, how kind and unbothered he was with Finn. 

Even my name, Finn says. He even offered me a name, because he knew right away I’m more than just a number. 

Sorrowful brown eyes look back at him, even as Leia tries to smile.

He was one of the best, Leia says, not just because he was an ace pilot.

Finn explains his dreams- most of them, anyway- and how he knew Poe long before the First Order ever took him prisoner. The General hums in surprise, and once Starkiller Base is destroyed with a skillful shot from Jessika Pava, Rey waits before leaving so that Finn can heal and join her in training to be a Jedi.

Luke Skywalker is wise and powerful, but Finn’s mind lingers on Luke’s pervasive aura of grief. It never leaves the older man, however, Finn is almost grateful his own sorrows are echoed in his new mentor. When Luke opens up to his apprentices and talks about the losses of Han Solo and the next generation of Jedi, Finn confesses his own loss. He tells Luke nearly everything.

That night, when Rey has already gone to bed, Luke calls Finn back to their fire and tells him about his younger days as a Rebellion hero with Han at his side. 

You see, he says, Leia wasn’t the only one who loved Han like he was the center of the whole galaxy.

Finn’s true feelings slip between his lips before he even realizes what’s happening. The entirety of his life with Poe- all that was stolen away- comes to the light, in the flickering warmth of the flames. It’s so natural to talk about that Finn isn’t even embarrassed when he sobs onto the shoulder of one of the greatest Jedi the galaxy has ever known.

Hold on to that, Luke advises him. The grief, the memories, the hope you had that you would grow old together. It hurts, but it’s all you have, and the pain aside, there might be some joy underneath.

Luke retires when Finn’s tears have stopped and his breathing has returned to normal. The older man tells Finn to get some sleep if he can, and reminds the young Jedi that his ears will be open again in the morning.

Finn walks through the ancient village, down to the sea. The chilly water laps at his feet and the night air is brisk, but Finn doesn’t mind. He reaches out with the Force, as his mentor tells him to do each day, and there is warmth and love waiting for him, fleeting but not unfamiliar.

When Finn opens his eyes, he looks to the stars and sees all that could have been.

[anonreign-9]

Zeke Yeager Alphabet Fluff

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Zeke is a simple man who likes doing simple things. He isn't one to go out, he prefers home dates. His favorite thing to do with you is probably have some evening tea/wine and talk for hours. You two have the best discussions about history, stories, experiences, etc.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires how bold you are, how you "call it as you see 'em" and also your curiosity. Which is why you two get along well. Look wise, he loves that ass.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

The first time he went through you having a rough day he offered you a cigarette. Zeke isn't the greatest at comforting people so he had a lot to learn. Once he got the hang of it, he would sit you down, helping you to catch your breath and ask you what is going on. He'd pour you a glass of wine and plop your feet on his lap while listening to you express yourself.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Zeke knows that there won't be much of a future with his circumstances, so he tries not to think of the future and just enjoy the present. He reminds you that it would make him happy if you'd move on once he's gone, "just don’t replace me too quickly" he says sarcastically. But Zeke makes sure that you are set up for success and happiness closer to his term being up.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Honestly, you two are equal. Your relationship is unique from others and you're the only person Zeke doesn't feel the need to dominate/step over. Your relationship is mellow and there is mutual respect, although, he definitely does like being dominant in bed.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Zeke is quick to forgive you but fights have never been that bad. He always agrees to disagree so you guys don't waste your precious time negatively.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Zeke is definitely grateful. It honestly surprises him how devoted you are to him even after he's gone for long periods of time. He's grateful for your love and greatly appreciates you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Zeke is a man full of secrets. He doesn't lie to you but he does keep things from you. Only with the best intentions though. It's usually about war related stuff, like his ulterior motives, scheming against their government and all that good stuff. He doesn't see a reason for you to know all that, he wants to keep up his somewhat good image he thinks you have of him even though you know Zeke is a man of many flaws.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Yes, definitely. Zeke is still the same man but he has a little more empathy towards certain situations. You never forced him to change but after being around you for so long, your gentle heart rubbed off on him. You sometimes pop in his head when he's about to make drastic decisions.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Zeke doesn't really get too jealous, he knows you could leave him if you really wanted to, so he has a lot of trust. But he doesn't appreciate other men "disrespecting" his relationship and would pull them aside, threatening/smart talking to them when you're not paying attention.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He is hands down the best kisser. Your first kiss together was steamy and he really went for it. Zeke isn't a shy man. He knew the attraction was mutual so he went for that kiss with total confidence.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He wouldn’t actually, you’d have to initiate that. Zeke doesn’t see the point in starting a relationship due to his future and his priorities. When he developed feelings of love for you it was a very confusing time for him and it took a lot of convincing and reassurance. So his confession would come after yours.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Honestly marriage wasn't even an option for obvious reasons. You both knew it and so it was never brought up. Regardless, you both were content and didn't need "marriage" as a way to be closer.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Zeke gets creative with his pet names for you. He is always switching it up depending on your mood,situation, inside jokes. If you're on the cranky side he'd call you something like "Ms sassy" "cranky kitty" "mad woman" or just something to annoy you and he loves it. But if he's being more endearing, probably "love" "darling”

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Zeke is good at hiding it, not on purpose or because he wants to, but he really loves you more than you know. Of course he tells you, but it's the little things that you don't know, like how his heart flutters when he's about to walk in the door to see you, or how after a long/rough mission, he fantasizes about making love to you and holding you. He doesn't talk about you much to his comrades because he sees it as it not being any of their business. He won't try to hide you though if you guys bump into someone he knows.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Zeke will show an appropriate amount of PDA in public only if it’s the two of you. When others tag along or if you two are around people Zeke knows then he is more discrete. Not because he is embarrassed but just because he can get a little conservative.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

His charm. Zeke could talk his way out of any situation and convince you that you're not actually mad, you're just hungry or tired. He's very slick with his words and will also use those words of his to get you flustered.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Zeke can sometimes be cliché. He will bring you the usual flowers or chocolates randomly but on special occasions he likes to get creative. You would rave about wanting to see the airships, or go somewhere you're not supposed to and Zeke will make it happen. You guys never get caught or in trouble since he has his perks but normally, he'd never do something like that for anyone since he's technically not allowed.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He's definitely supportive and would do anything to help you achieve your goals/dreams. He would totally be the type to "get the ball rolling" for you and create an opportunity for you without you knowing and be like "Oh wow what a coincidence, must be a sign, you should go for it"

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

You guys are pretty routine with your relationship but you both don't mind it. He likes to surprise you here and there but usually you guys are content with the usual.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Zeke is 100% understanding and believes you wouldn't do anything big without reasoning. He understands your way of thinking and that you also always have good intentions. He's not a perfect man and knows that, so he doesn't expect you to be perfect either. If you make a mistake or say something you don't mean, he brushes it off and tells you not to worry about it.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it's worth in comparison to other things in their life?

In all honestly, your relationship comes second and his duties as the beast titan comes first, which you both mutually agree. Doesn't mean you're less important, he just has to take care of his duties first before he can take care of you.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

If you fall asleep before Zeke does, he'll pull up a chair, open the bedroom window and smoke a cigarette while admiring your sleeping figure. He'll pay close attention to details; your random twitches, how short your breaths are, wonders what you're dreaming of, and thinks about what he even did to deserve your love.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

At first Zeke wasn't very affectionate. He didn't get much physical affection growing up so he never went out of his was to give it to you, but he never rejected your affection towards him. Zeke didn't mind and actually likes when you get a little clingy and eventually had a better understanding on how to give you proper affection.

Y earning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

Zeke kinda pushes you out of his head. He doesn't want it to distract him from his duties. The times that you do pop in his head are when he has a little time to himself during a mission or when he’s done something cold, “Would (y/n) still love me after this.”

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It depends. He is willing to go through great lengths to make you happy and keep you safe but his biggest fear is being in a situation where he has to pick your well being over his life goal (for example him having to choose saving you vs proceeding with a mission during a war break out) he gets nightmares about it and avoids that situation at all cost.

[sheyshocked]

12, 13 & 25? :>

12. Favorite character to write about this year – Hm, that’s a tough one. I’ve enjoyed writing about Simon and Markus the most, but if I had to choose someone other than them, I would probably go with Carl (especially in The most important question and Unexpected guests). He’s not the easiest character for me to write, as he is much more different from the type I’m used to (and sometimes he even seems to have a mind of his own when I’m writing him :D), but hey, that’s half the fun. I love exploring both his wise and cheeky side. Plus, his father-son relationship with Markus is precious and it’s so much fun to write.

13. Favorite writing song/artist/album of this year – I don’t listen to music during writing as such (my writing sessions are kinda weird – it’s easiest for me to write on a paper during playing videogames, for example, Skyrim or Life is Strange: Before the storm and then polishing it in Word – that’s how I’m the most productive :-D), but game soundtracks (LiS: Before the Storm has an amazing one, and writing to Burn it down by Daughter is top-notch) help a lot. I also write one of my wips to I know I’m a wolf by Young Heretics and Hunter’s lullaby by Leonard Cohen (the wip is heavily inspired by both of their lyrics).

25. A fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read – It’s impossible to choose just one (I know so many good fics and many talented writers that deserve a shout-out), but let’s make this my Top 5+1 Simarkus fics recommendation:

1) Sense and sensitivity by Archadian_Skies (link to her Tumblr) – It’s already an older piece, but I would call it an absolute alpha and omega of Simarkus fics. Cute, with some truly adorable classic tropes (I’m a sucker for huddling for warmth, okay? :-D ) but with plenty of original ideas that make it intriguing and enjoyable to read. Annie doesn’t shy away from giving the characters some much-needed depth, which influenced me greatly in my own writing (plus her take on Carl never fails to make me chuckle).

2) Zzyzx Road by kurana – I gotta admit, this one was a huge surprise for me. Angsty fics that focus on post violent revolution aren’t my usual cup of tea, but this one was so original and gripping that I finished it in one go – and wasn’t disappointed. It gave Simon an awesome backstory (one that the poor boy deserved) and let’s just say that the ending got me right in the feels. Great when you grow bored with the usual fluff and look for something a little more angsty that will still put a hopeful smile on your face in the end.

3) Infection by yeaka – This fic is much shorter than the previous ones (yeaka is one of my favorite ao3 writers of all the time and her specialty is short ficlets for various fandoms and ships, even rarepairs – another of my great inspirations), but the romantic tension between Simon and Markus, who have not fully deviated yet, in Infection is just heavenly. I can assure you that after reading this, you will end up wanting more – and thankfully, yeaka has plenty of other great ficlets to choose from.

4) Leading by example by kurana – Another great work written by kurana, this time much fluffier, a dream come true for hopeless romantics (like myself). It depicts Simon and Markus getting engaged to each other (out of necessity at first) and trying to navigate their relationship since then. It’s not only almost too sweet for this world (with occasional angst and hurt/comfort), but also a great portrayal of Markus’ kinda clueless nature when it comes to relationships. That’s my jam.

5) Subjective by AlleycatAngst – The shortest ficlet on this list and probably the most endearing and hilarious of them all. North helping Markus choose a wedding ring for Simon is just such a pure idea and thanks to North and her not so helpful approach, it’s so much fun to read. This fic also has the infamous stickman – and stickman is always a bonus! XD

+

6) More than Meets the Eye by ApurpleAvocado – This is (at the time I’m writing this) still an ongoing project, but so complex and promising I simply couldn’t leave it out! I love good old Victorian aus, and this one is one of the greatest I’ve ever read. You know those historical aus that constantly ruin your immersion in the story with way too modern (or just bad) atmosphere (that’s why I probably won’t delve into this kind of an aus in my fics – I suck at doing deep enough research) – well, despair no more, because More than Meets the Eye breathes of old times, but not too much to make it unreadable for my fellow non-historian readers. And chances are you will learn something new on the way! Win-win!

[hellyeahheroes]

Dylan is a Mary Sue

*look I know that the symbiote has a name and Venom is both it and Eddie. So I hope you don’t get annoyed when I refer to the symbiote as Venom because writing symbiote 100 times gets annoying and I hope you get what I mean when I call it that.

I’ve been trying to write this like nine times because I don’t want to bash this character. When I wrote the post about how I didn’t want Dylan Brock near Miles, I intentionally left out the reason why because I like the character. I hate the purpose and narrative mind behind him. And plus I don’t want to seem like I bash white cis het male characters when the characters I do trash on are bad because writers tend to make them intentionally bratty. I don’t like Spider-kid, Damian Wayne when written without consequence(he is white passing), Jason Todd,or Alpha. Like giving a character a shitty attitude doesn’t make him endearing especially on a male, I’m sorry. Characters like Tim Drake, Alex Power, and Dick Grayson work because there is something genuine in them that they want to be the good of the world.

Anyways, Dylan is fun to me because he has this precocious roguishness that isn’t malevolent nor out of place. His abuse is actually abuse that isn’t made to serve as his training or whatever nor does it warps his views. And his fandom in Eddie/Venom actually makes sense because he is a kid that was abandoned by his mother and left with an emotionally and physically abusive man who would cut him down. A dark passenger like Venom appeals to him because Venom is like the codifier of misguided anger for misguided teens.

But there is a reason why he is written that way: he is a Mary-Sue. Now I don’t care about the gender preconceptions of Mary Sue vs Gary Stu nor do I try to prescribe to reclaiming Mary Sue in some vain attempt at liberal feminism. Mary Sue is bad writing unless everyone gets to play(Mary Sues work in video games). Mary Sue is something writers in most mediums that tell stories should avoid if they want said character to succeed or evoke if you want said character to be disliked. And Dylan Brock is an example that doesn’t work and is largely getting away with it because he is cute.

1. The Immaculate Conception of Dylan Brock

This is when I knew some Sue shit was unleashed on Venom fans. I don’t have to google it but I can guess that Cates has a Catholic background. Whether he is one or raised one, it is apparent in whatever meaningful writing depth he provides outside of meaningless action. And it works because Eddie Brock, being anti-Peter Parker, is Catholic. Hence the brooding and self-loathing and abusive paternity and motifs of redemption and suffering and shit. But this was not only fucked up, but a little too on the nose.

Dylan wasn’t conceived naturally. In fact, Anne Weying was raped by the symbiote and impregnated with Eddie’s DNA. So Dylan is actually the child of the Venom and Eddie Brock. “But Anne is his mother.” Look, Cates didn’t actually consider Anne so I won’t either. Outside of the fact that it doesn’t make sense chronologically since Peter was like in his early 20s when he had the Symbiote and is at most 29 now, Anne is just a vehicle for Cates’ to necessitate the purity of Dylan Brock. Dylan is the pure child of Venom, born from the womb of Eddie’s first girlfriend/fiancé/wife/whatever and the first human woman to wear a symbiote, I think. I mean she didn’t even have sex with Eddie and boom, mini Eddie Brock is wrapped in cloth and left at the meager doorstep at the sacred house of Eddie. Praise Venom, y’all.

Jokes aside, I don’t know how Venom fans just didn’t go, “Iight, Imma head out” after reading this page. Just shows the conviction of fandom.

But I digress. Now let me regale you just how improbable this is which again only serves to ordain Dylan is the truest son of Venom in all the ways possible and also highlight the very unfortunate implications of this fuckery. Symbiotes bond is how they reproduce. When they reproduce with their host, the end result up to this point has always been a symbiote. For Mass Effect fans, it’s the Asari thing except with goo. Before you ask, yes Symbiotes sexually satisfy their hosts unlike the majority of human men*cough*. Point is that Dylan should be biologically impossible but somehow he is a human symbiote hybrid. And the unfortunate implications of such of incident shouldn’t go unnoticed either. Venom and Eddie have several children and prior to this, all of them have been symbiote. Cletus and Red also have children too and again symbiote. In fact, all symbiote bonds produce symbiotes as far as male hosts are concerned...except for the brief bond of Ann Weying and Venom Symbiote. Gee I wonder why she got a different result? Well there are a few female hosts and surprising none of them have spawned a symbiote child. So logically it can be assumed that woman + symbiote = forced impregnation of symbiote. Well this shit got dark. The symbiotes just became the Jeffrey Epstein alien species. But since Cates swears up and down that is not what is happening, he is going for the God/Virgin Mary angle for some reason.

It’s almost like he is the descendent of the Symbiote God. If only there was such a thing.

Welllllll shit.

2. Dylan is incorruptible and all-powerful without knowing why or how

Okay, backstory time because I never properly explained Knull, another of Cates shoddy creations. Knull is the galactic god emperor of the Symbiotes who created the Symbiotes as a weapon to rule the galaxy. Aside of the fact that his existence retconned the previous backstories of the symbiote, he has the ability to domesticate the symbiotes and make them subservient to him.

Guess who else has this ability.

Dylan is symbiote Jesus, hallelujah. This explains the Church of Carnage/Knull/Grendel/who gives a shit. He is the true son of Abraham and Carnage is the false prophet of Venom. It’s what Christianity considers Islam to be or some shit and both Dylan and Sleeper are about to nail the 95 thesis on the door of Carnage in the form of the greatest mixtape you ever heard.

Look, I too am astounded of the sentences my mind comes up with when I so thoroughly hate a writing like I hate Donnie Cates’ Venom.

Dylan goes beyond being just a special snowflake that was forcefully and crudely implemented. He is the pre-ordained established opposite of the nature of corruption that Knull created the symbiotes for. To Knull, the symbiotes are his thralls. To Dylan, the symbiotes are his pets. To Knull, the symbiotes are a tool to become omnipresent. To Dylan, the symbiotes are individuals who need to be liberated if good. To Knull, there is no such thing as a good symbiote. To Dylan, there is and it’s Venom or sleeper or what have you. Dylan is the forgotten son and the New Testament for symbiote kind.

And he doesn’t know yet.

Okay, this is a common Mary Sue trait to absolve culpability of a Mary Sue character. It’s to say that they are not to blame for being special. It’s like the writing form of don’t hate me because I’m beautiful except somehow more obnoxious. Dylan’s obliviousness to this what is essentially an entire alien species religious revelation is like trivialized because their prophet is a 12 year old. It’s like waiting for a savior only to be told he is a carpenter.

Imma let that last one just marinate for a minute.

Look, Cates did a lot of rewriting and retconning just for his self-insert to become his favorite series and hero to be the second coming. He created this lore for Venom only for his avatar to be the prophet. The intentionality of his obliviousness to how important this is just glazed over the fact like it isn’t a big deal. Just like Cates glazed over the whole rape and forced impregnation thing because somehow that doesn’t warrant a follow up.

3. Dylan Brock is fanboy Cates

Okay before I begin, self-inserts aren’t bad nor are they inherently Mary-Sues. Kong from Ultimate Spider-Man is Bendis’ self-insert. Boomerang from Amazing Spider-Man was rewritten to be Spencer’s self-insert. JJJ is a self insert for Stan fucking Lee like...self-inserts are great. To the degree that they aren’t unnatural to the narrative or overbearing.

Dylan Brock’s previously stated precociousness comes from the idea that Donnie is writing the inner teenager that he was as a kid reading Maximum Carnage for the first time. And I get it, man, live your truth and all. Like yeah, force and subjugate other fans of this series to your childlike inquiries like how Symbiotes poop, I mean it’s not like their fandom is important or anything.

First Dylan is a fanboy of Venom just like he is. And while that makes sense meta-wise, in-narrative it doesn’t because...okay Venom fans are about to tear me apart for this but it’s like someone being a fan of Ted Bundy. His heroics usually came with a body count is all I’m saying and I doubt it would be praised but then again Wolverine has an in-universe fandom so what do I know. Back on topic, Dylan’s fandom and praise of Venom to get him out of the dark place that is his father’s abusive household.

And this is why it’s so hard to hate him because of all the fucked up shit Cates put in this book, Dylan feels like the one character that is genuine and pure in that innocent kind of way. No one hates Dylan and how could you? We all get it. And it helps that Dylan has a completely different voice than every other Cates has written from every other character. Like I can hear the excitement in his voice when he pesters his hero for questions and I’m reading his words. The idolization is pure when he meets Normie, the god son of Spider-Man, and it creates this dynamic of Spider-Man fans vs Venom fans. It’s fun in a way.

But it’s just that. When Cates writes Eddie, he is not only writing to retell Cates own personal past demons but also in the lens of how he viewed Eddie as this tortured soul who just got the wrong interview from a copycat that costs his job. The second banana of a greater and more prominent hero. Born to the wrong person. That none of what happened to Eddie was his fault or really his doing even when he was at his worst wearing Venom, it was Venom who tempted him.

Dylan is that pre-teen who sees the best in everything Venom is: The dark avenger of the abused and neglected. And I don’t want to speculate whether Cates fits the category or not because that ain’t my business, I can see why Dylan would be a compelling self-insert if it weren’t compounded on top of Cates’ forceful insertion into Venom and subsequently Spider-Man lore.

Like you remember Carly Cooper? Dylan is exactly like Carly Cooper. And this is why I like to think of Cates’ run as the equivalent of One More Day. Cates’ retconned a crucial element of Venom to make Dylan necessary to the core of Venom. He retconned the one thing that made Venom and subsequently Eddie go beyond just being a twisted revenge story.

The erasure of Mary Brock, Eddie’s sister and Eddie’s cancer. One is the motivation and the sole good Eddie has ever known. It’s his motivation to move past is mistakes. And Cates then turns the one bond in the series into something...horrific.

Okay, Dylan replaced his sister and Venom itself. His being becomes Eddie’s motivation to be a better person rather the struggle to see himself as more than his upbringing. It’s like reading Spider-Man and finding out Uncle Ben was on crack. Uncle Ben didn’t die. He faked his death. Yeah, that is what this was. So he could evade taxes or some shit. This is exonerated Eddie in the worst way and turned him into a manipulated pawn of Venom. Let’s completely retcon the marriage of MJ and PeterVenom and Eddie, Cates pitches to editorial.

Dylan becomes more than just some kid who idolizes Eddie. He becomes the sole motivation of Eddie himself now. Eddie’s past is now completely erased or made irrelevant to uplift Dylan’s importance to Eddie. It’s too a point that the Symbiote kids of Venom aren’t Eddie’s kids anymore. It’s like Eddie was in an interracial relationship and the one non-brown baby with blue eyes is his one true kid and others are mulatto chocolate eugenic mishaps or some shit that his ass don’t want to deal with anymore. I mean disowning Carnage I understand but come on?

Cates’ self insert changed the entire nature of the series. And for what purpose? To give Venom a legacy just as Peter has one. And that is the problem with Dylan.

@ubernegro

[grigori77]

2019 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10.  HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON: THE HIDDEN WORLD – while I love Disney and Pixar as much as the next movie nut, since the Millennium my loyalty has been slowly but effectively usurped by the consistently impressive (but sometimes frustratingly underappreciated) output of Dreamworks Animation Studios, and in recent years in particular they really have come to rival the House of Mouse in both the astounding quality of their work and their increasing box office reliability.  But none of their own franchises (not even Shrek or Kung Fu Panda) have come CLOSE to equalling the sheer, unbridled AWESOMENESS of How to Train Your Dragon, which started off as a fairly loose adaptation of Cressida Cowell’s popular series of children’s stories but quickly developed a very sharp mind of its own – the first two films were undisputable MASTERPIECES, and this third and definitively FINAL chapter in the trilogy matches them to perfection, as well as capping the story off with all the style, flair and raw emotional power we’ve come to expect.  The time has come to say goodbye to diminutive Viking Hiccup (Jay Baruchel, as effortlessly endearing as ever) and his adorable Night Fury mount/best friend Toothless, fiancée Astrid (America Ferrera, still tough, sassy and WAY too good for him), mother Valka (Cate Blanchett, classy, wise and still sporting a pretty flawless Scottish accent) and all the other Dragon Riders of the tiny, inhospitable island kingdom of Berk – their home has become overpopulated with scaly, fire-breathing denizens, while a trapper fleet led by the fiendish Grimmel the Grisly (F. Murray Abraham delivering a wonderfully soft-spoken, subtly chilling master villain) is beginning to draw close, prompting Hiccup to take up his late father Stoick (Gerard Butler returning with a gentle turn that EASILY prompts tears and throat-lumps) the Vast’s dream of finding the fabled “Hidden World”, a mysterious safe haven for dragon-kind where they can be safe from those who seek to do them harm.  But there’s a wrinkle – Grimmel has a new piece of bait, a female Night Fury (or rather, a “Light Fury”), a major distraction that gets Toothless all hot and bothered … returning writer-director Dean DeBlois has rounded things off beautifully with this closer, giving loyal fans everything they could ever want while also introducing fresh elements such as intriguing new environments, characters and species of dragons to further enrich what is already a powerful, intoxicating world for viewers young and old (I particularly love Craig Ferguson’s ever-reliable comic relief veteran Viking Gobber’s brilliant overreactions to a certain adorably grotesque little new arrival), and like its predecessors this film is just as full of wry, broad and sometimes slightly (or not so slightly) absurd humour and deep down gut-twisting FEELS as it is of stirring, pulse-quickening action sequences and sheer, jaw-dropping WONDER, so it’s as nourishing to our soul as it is to our senses.  From the perfectly-pitched, cheekily irreverent opening to the truly devastating, heartbreaking close, this is EXACTLY the final chapter we’ve always dreamed of, even if it does hurt to see this most beloved of screen franchises go. It’s been a wild ride, and one that I think really does CEMENT Dreamworks’ status as one of the true giants of the genre …

9.  TERMINATOR: DARK FATE – back in 1984, James Cameron burst onto the scene with a stone-cold PHENOMENON, a pitch-perfect adrenaline-fuelled science fiction survival horror that spawned a million imitators but has never truly been equalled.  Less than a decade later, he revisited that universe with a much bigger and far bolder vision, creating an epic action adventure that truly changed blockbuster cinema for the better (or perhaps worse, depending on how you want to look at it), but, with its decidedly final, full-stop climax, also effectively rendered itself sequel-proof.  Except that Hollywood had other ideas, the unstoppable money machine smelling potential profit and deciding to milk this particular cash cow for all it was worth – on the small screen, it was the impressive but ultimately intrinsically limited Sarah Connor Chronicles, while on the big screen they cranked out THREE MORE sequels, Sony Pictures starting with straightforward retread Rise of the Machines and following with post-apocalyptic marmite movie Salvation, while Twentieth Century Fox then tried a sort-of soft reboot follow-up to T2 in Genisys.  These were all interesting in their own way (personally, I like them all, particularly Salvation), but ultimately suffered from diminishing returns and whiffed strongly of trying too hard without quite getting the point. Cameron himself had long since washed his hands of the whole affair, and it looked like that might well be it … but then Skydance Productions founder David Ellison thought up a new take to breathe much needed new life into the franchise, and enlisted Cameron’s help to usher it in properly, with Deadpool director Tim Miller the intriguing but ultimately inspired choice to helm the project.  The end result wisely chooses to paint right over all the pretenders, kicking off right where Judgement Day left off, and as well as Cameron being heavily involved in the story itself, draws another ace with the long-awaited ON-SCREEN return of Linda Hamilton in the role that’s pretty much defined her career, hardboiled survivor Sarah Connor.  I’ll leave the details of her return for newcomers to discover, suffice to say she gets caught up in the chase when a new, MUCH more advanced terminator is sent back in time to kill unassuming young Mexican factory worker Dani Ramos (Natalia Reyes).  Of course, the future resistance has once again sent a protector back to watch her back, Grace (Blade Runner 2049’s Mackenzie Davis), a cybernetically-enhanced super-soldier specifically outfitted to combat terminators, who reluctantly agrees to team up with the highly experienced Sarah in order to keep Dani alive. Arnold Schwarzenegger once again returns to the role that truly made him a star (of course, how could he not?), and he for one has clearly not lost ANY of his old love or enthusiasm for playing the old T-800, but revealing exactly HOW he comes into the story this time would give away too much; the new terminator, meanwhile, is brilliantly portrayed by Gabriel Luna (probably best known for playing Ghost Rider in Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD), who brings predatory menace and an interesting edge of subtle, entitled arrogance to the role of Rev-9.  Ultimately though, this is very much the ladies’ film, the three leads dominating the action and drama both as they kick-ass and verbally spar in equal measure, their chemistry palpably strong throughout – Hamilton is as badass as ever, making Sarah even more of a take-no-shit survivalist burnout than she ever was in T2, and she’s utterly mesmerising in what’s EASILY her best turn in YEARS, while Reyes goes through an incredible transformative character arc as she’s forced to evolve from terrified salary-girl to proto she-warrior through several pleasingly organic steps … my greatest pleasure, however, definitely comes from watching Mackenzie Davis OWN the role of Grace, investing her with an irresistible mixture of icy military precision, downright feral mother lion ferocity and a surprisingly sweet innocence buried underneath all the bravado, thus creating one of my favourite ass-kicking heroines not just for the year but this past decade entirely. Unsurprisingly, in the hands of old hand Tim Miller (working from a screenplay headlined by Blade and Batman Begins scribe David Goyer) this is a pulse-pounding thrill ride that rarely lets its foot up off the pedal, but thankfully the action is ALWAYS in service to the story, each precision-crafted set piece engineered to perfection as we power through high speed chases, explosive shootouts and a succession of bruising heavy metal smackdowns, but thankfully there’s just as much attention paid to the characters and the story – given the familiarity of the tale there’s inevitably a certain predictability to events, but Miller and co. still pull off a few deftly handled surprise twists, while character development always feels organic.  Best of all, this genuinely feels like a legitimate part of the original Terminator franchise, Cameron and Hamilton’s returns having finally brought back the old magic that’s been missing for so long. I’d definitely be willing to sign up for more of this – such a shame then that, thanks to the film’s frustrating underperformance at the box office, it looks like this is gonna be it after all. Damn it …

8.  DOCTOR SLEEP – first up, before I say anything else about this latest Stephen King screen adaptation, I HAVE NOT yet got round to reading the original novel yet, so I can’t speak to how it compares.  That said, I HAVE read The Shining, to which the book is a direct sequel, so I DO know about at least one of the major, KEY changes, and besides, this is actually a sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s MOVIE of The Shining, which differed significantly from its own source material anyway, so there’s that … yeah, this is a complicated kettle of fish even BEFORE we get down to the details.  Suffice to say, you don’t have to have read the book to get this movie, but a working knowledge of Kubrick’s horror classic may at least help you get some context before watching this … anyways, enough with the confusion, on to the meat of the matter – this is a CRACKING horror movie by any stretch, and, for me, one of the strongest King horrors to make it to the big screen in quite some time.  Of course it helps no end to have a filmmaker of MAJOR calibre at the helm, and there are few working in horror at the moment with whom I am quite so impressed as Mike Flanagan, writer-director of two of this past decade’s definitive horrors (at least for me), Oculus and Hush, as well as a BLINDING TV series adaptation of The Haunting of Hill House for Netflix – the man is an absolute master of the craft, incredibly skilled with all the tricks of this particular genre’s trade, and, as it turns out, a perfect fit with King’s material.  Following on from The Shining, then, we learn what happened to the kid, Danny Torrance, after he and his mother left the Overlook Hotel in the wake of his father’s psychotic break driven by monstrous apparitions “living” in the cursed halls, following him from childhood as he initially shuns the psychic gifts (or “shine”) he was taught to use by the hotel’s late caretaker, Dick Halloran.  It’s only in later years, as he fights to overcome his alcoholism and self-destructive lifestyle, that he reconnects with that power, just in time to discover psychic “pen-pal” Abra Stone, an immensely powerful young psychic.  Which leads us to the present day, when Abra, now a teenager, becomes the target of the True Knot, a group of psychic vampires who travel America hunting and killing young people with psychic abilities in order to consume their “smoke” (basically the stuff of their “shines”), thus expanding their already unnatural lifespans – they’re tracking Abra, and they’re getting close, and only her “Uncle Dan” can save her from them.  Ewan McGregor is PERFECT as the grown-up Dan, delivering one of his career-best turns as he captures the world-weary seriousness of someone who’s seen, felt and had to do things no-one should, especially when he was so very young, the kinds of things that colour a soul for their entire life, and he’s clearly DESPERATE not to become his father; newcomer Kyleigh Curran, meanwhile, is an absolute revelation as Abra, bringing depth and weight far beyond her years to the role, but never losing sight of the fact that, under all the power, she’s ultimately still just a child; there are also excellent supporting turns from the likes of Cliff Curtis as Dan’s best friend and AA sponsor Billy Freeman, Zahn McClarnon (Longmire, Fargo season 2) and Emily Lind (Revenge, Code Black) as True Knot members Crow Daddy and Snakebite Annie, and Carl Lumbly (Cagney & Lacey, TV’s Supergirl), who beautifully replaces deceased original actor Scatman Crothers in the role of Dick.  The film’s tour-de-force performance, however, comes from Rebecca Ferguson as Rose the Hat, leader of the True Knot – they’re an intriguing bunch of villains, very well written and fleshed out, and it’s clear they have genuine love for one another, like a real family, which makes it hard not to sympathise with them a little bit, and this is none more true than in Rose, whom Ferguson invests with so much light and warmth and intriguing, complex character, as well as a fantastic streak of playful mischief that makes her all the more riveting in those times when they then turn around and do some truly heinous, unforgivable things … as horror movies go this is the cream of the crop, but Flanagan has purposefully kept away from jump scares and the more flashy stuff, preferring, like Kubrick in The Shining, to let the insidious darkness bubble up underneath good and slow, drawing out the creepiness and those most unsettling, twisted little touches the author himself is always so very good at.  Intent can be such a scary thing, and Flanagan gets it, so that’s just what he uses here.   As a result this is a fantastic slow-burn creep-fest that constantly works its way deeper under your skin, building to a phenomenal climax that, (perversely) thanks in no small part to the differences between both novels and films, pays as much loving tribute to Kubrick’s visionary landmark as the original novel of The Shining.  For me, this is Flanagan’s best film to date, and as far as Stephen King adaptations go I consider this to be right up there with the likes of The Mist and The Green Mile.  Best of all, I think he’d be proud of it too …

7.  SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME – summer 20019 was something of a decompression period for fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with many of us recovering from the sheer emotional DEVASTATION of the grand finale of Phase 3, Avengers: Endgame, so the main Blockbuster Season’s entry really needed to be light and breezy, a blessed relief after all that angst and loss, much like Ant-Man & the Wasp was last year as it followed Infinity War.  And it is, by and large – this is as light-hearted and irreverent as its predecessor, following much the same goofy teen comedy template as Homecoming, but there’s no denying that there’s a definite emotional through-line from Endgame that looms large here, a sense of loss the film fearlessly addresses right from the start, sometimes with a bittersweet sense of humour, sometimes straight.  But whichever path the narrative chooses, the film stays true to this underlying truth – there have been great and painful changes in this world, and we can’t go back to how it was before, no matter how hard we try, but then perhaps we shouldn’t. This is certainly central to our young hero’s central arc – Peter Parker (Tom Holland) is in mourning, and not even the prospect of a trip around Europe with his newly returned classmates, together with the chance to finally get close to M.J. (Zendaya), maybe even start a relationship, can entirely distract him from the gaping hole in his life. Still, he’s gonna give it his best shot, but it looks like fate has other plans for our erstwhile Spider-Man as superspy extraordinaire Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) comes calling, basically hijacking his vacation with an Avengers-level threat to deal with, aided by enigmatic inter-dimensional superhero Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal), who has a personal stake in the mission, but as he’s drawn deeper into the fray Peter discovers that things may not be quite as they seem. Of course, giving anything more away would of course dumps HEINOUS spoilers on the precious few who haven’t yet seen the film – suffice to say that the narrative drops a MAJOR sea-change twist at the midpoint that’s EVERY BIT as fiendish as the one Shane Black gave us in Iron Man 3 (although the more knowledgeable fans of the comics will likely see it coming), and also provides Peter with JUST the push he needs to get his priorities straight and just GET OVER IT once and for all.  Tom Holland again proves his character is the most endearing teenage geek in cinematic history, his spectacular super-powered abilities and winning underdog perseverance in the face of impossible odds still paradoxically tempered by the fact he’s as loveably hopeless as ever outside his suit; Mysterio himself, meanwhile, frequently steals the film out from under him, the strong bromance they develop certainly mirroring what Peter had with Tony Stark, and it’s a major credit to Gyllenhaal that he so perfectly captures the essential dualities of the character, investing Beck with a roguish but subtly self-deprecating charm that makes him EXTREMELY easy to like, but ultimately belying something much more complex hidden beneath it; it’s also nice to see so many beloved familiar faces returning, particularly the fantastically snarky and self-assured Zendaya, Jacob Batalon (once again pure comedy gold as Peter’s adorably nerdy best friend Ned), Tony Revolori (as his self-important class rival Flash Thompson) and, of course, Marisa Tomei as the ever-pivotal Aunt May, as well as Jackson and Cobie Smoulders as dynamite SHIELD duo Fury and his faithful lieutenant Maria Hill, and best of all Jon Favreau gets a MUCH bigger role this time round as Happy Hogan.  Altogether this is very much business as usual for the MCU, the well-oiled machine unsurprisingly turning out another near-perfect gem of a superhero flick that ticks all the required boxes, but a big part of the film’s success should be attributed to returning director Jon Watts, effectively building on the granite-strong foundations of Homecoming with the help of fellow alumni Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers on screenplay duty, for a picture that feels both comfortingly familiar and rewardingly fresh, delivering on all the required counts with thrilling action and eye candy spectacle, endearingly quirky character-based charm and a typically winning sense of humour, and plenty of understandably powerful emotional heft.  And, like always, there are plenty of fan-pleasing winks and nods and revelations, and the pre-requisite mid- and post-credit teasers too, both proving to be some proper game-changing corkers.  Another winner from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, then, but was there really ever any doubt?

6.  US – back in 2017, Jordan Peele made the transition from racially-charged TV and stand-up comedy to astounding cinemagoers with stunning ease through his writer-director feature debut Get Out, a sharply observed jet black comedy horror with SERIOUS themes that was INSANELY well-received by audiences and horror fans alike.  Peele instantly became ONE TO WATCH in the genre, so his follow-up feature had A LOT riding on it, but this equally biting, deeply satirical existential mind-bender is EASILY the equal of its predecessor, possibly even its better … giving away too much plot detail would do great disservice to the many intriguing, shocking twists on offer as middle class parents Adelaide and Gabe Wilson (Black Panther alumni Lupita Nyong’o and Winston Duke) take their children, Zora (Shahadi Wright Joseph) and Jason (Evan Alex), to Santa Cruz on vacation, only to step into a nightmare as a night-time visitation by a family of murderous doppelgangers signals the start of a terrifying supernatural revolution with potential nationwide consequences.  The idea at the heart of this film is ASTOUNDINGLY original, quite an achievement in a genre where just about everything has been tried at least once, but it’s also DEEPLY subversive, as challenging and thought-provoking as the themes visited in Get Out, but also potentially even more wide-reaching. It’s also THOROUGHLY fascinating and absolutely TERRIFYING, a peerless exercise in slow-burn tension and acid-drip discomfort, liberally soaked in an oppressive atmosphere so thick you could choke on it if you’re not careful, such a perfect horror master-class it’s amazing that this is only Peele’s second FEATURE, never mind his sophomore offering IN THE GENRE.  The incredibly game cast really help, too – the four leads are all EXCEPTIONAL, each delivering fascinatingly nuanced performances in startlingly oppositional dual roles as both the besieged family AND their monstrous doubles, a feat brilliantly mimicked by Mad Men and The Handmaid’s Tale-star Elisabeth Moss, Tim Heidecker and teen twins Cali and Noelle Sheldon as the Wilsons’ friends, the Tylers, and their similarly psychotic mimics.  The film is DOMINATED, however, by Oscar-troubler Nyong’o, effortlessly holding our attention throughout the film with yet another raw, intense, masterful turn that keeps up glued to the screen from start to finish, even as the twists get weirder and more full-on brain-mashy.  Of course, while this really is scary as hell, it’s also often HILARIOUSLY funny, Peele again poking HUGE fun at both his intended audience AND his allegorical targets, proving that scares often work best when twinned with humour.  BY FAR the best thing in horror in 2019, Us shows just what a master of the genre Jordan Peele is, and it looks like he’s here to stay …

5.  KNIVES OUT – with The Last Jedi, writer-director Rian Johnson divided audiences so completely that he seemed to have come perilously close to ruining his career.  Thankfully, he’s a thick-skinned auteur with an almost ridiculous amount of talent, and he’s come bouncing back as strong as ever, doing what he does best. His big break feature debut was with Brick, a cult classic murder mystery that was, surprisingly, set in and around a high school, and his latest has some of that same DNA as Johnson crafts a fantastic sleuthy whodunit cast in the classic mould of Agatha Christie, albeit shot through with his own wonderfully eclectic verve, wit and slyly subversive streak.  Daniel Craig holds court magnificently as quirky and flamboyant Deep South private detective Benoit Blanc, summoned to the home of newly-deceased star crime author Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) to investigate his possible murder and faced with a veritable web of lies, deceit and twisting knives as he meets the maybe-victim’s extensive and INCREDIBLY dysfunctional family, all of whom are potential suspects.  Craig is thoroughly mesmerising throughout, clearly having the time of his life in one of his career-best roles, while the narrative focus is actually, interestingly, given largely to Ana de Armas (Blade Runner 2049 and soon to be seen with Craig again in the latest Bond-flick No Time To Die), who proves equally adept at driving the film as Harlan’s sweet but steely and impressively resourceful nurse Marta Cabrera, whose own involvement in the case it would do the film a massive disservice to reveal. The rest of the Thrombey clan are an equally intriguing bunch, all played to the hilt by an amazing selection of heavyweight talent that includes Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Toni Collette and It’s Jaeden Martell, but the film is, undeniably, DOMINATED by Chris Evans as Harlan’s black sheep grandson Ransom, the now former Captain America clearly enjoying his first major post-MCU role as he roundly steals every scene he’s in, effortlessly bringing back the kind of snarky, sarcastic underhanded arrogance we haven’t seen him play since his early career and entertaining us thoroughly.  Johnson has very nearly outdone himself this time, weaving a gleefully twisty web of intrigue that viewers will take great pleasure in watching Blanc untangle, even if we’re actually already privy to (most of) the truth of the deed, and he pulls off some diabolical twists and turns as we rattle towards an inspired final reveal which genuinely surprises. He’s also generously smothered the film with oodles of his characteristically dry, acerbic wit, wonderfully tweaking many of the classic tropes of this familiar little sub-genre so this is at once a loving homage to the classics but also a sly, skilful deconstruction.  Intriguing, compelling, enrapturing and often thoroughly hilarious, this is VERY NEARLY the best film he’s ever made.  Only the mighty Looper remains unbeaten …

4.  CAPTAIN MARVEL – before the first real main event of not only the year’s blockbusters but also, more importantly, 2019’s big screen MCU roster, Marvel Studios president Kevin Feige and co dropped a powerful opening salvo with what, it turns out, was the TRUE inception point of the Avengers Initiative and all its accompanying baggage (not Captain America: the First Avenger, as we were originally led to believe).  For me, this is simply the MCU film I have MOST been looking forward to essentially since the beginning – the onscreen introduction of my favourite Avenger, former US Air Force Captain Carol Danvers, the TRUE Captain Marvel (no matter what the DC purists might say), who was hinted at in the post credits sting of Avengers: Infinity War but never actually seen.  Not only is she the most powerful Avenger (sorry Thor, but it’s true), but for me she’s also the most badass – she’s an unstoppable force of (cosmically enhanced) nature, with near GODLIKE powers (she can even fly through space without needing a suit!), but the thing that REALLY makes her so full-on EPIC is her sheer, unbreakable WILL, the fact that no matter what’s thrown at her, no matter how often or how hard she gets knocked down, she KEEPS GETTING BACK UP.  She is, without a doubt, the MOST AWESOME woman in the entire Marvel Universe, both on the comic page AND up on the big screen. Needless to say, such a special character needs an equally special actor to portray her, and we’re thoroughly blessed in the inspired casting choice of Brie Larson, who might as well have been purpose-engineered exclusively for this very role – she’s Carol Danvers stepped right out of the primary-coloured panels, as steely cool, unswervingly determined and strikingly statuesque as she’s always been drawn and scripted, with just the right amount of twinkle-eyed, knowing smirk and sassy humour to complete the package.  Needless to say she’s the heart and soul of the film, a pure joy to watch throughout, but there’s so much more to enjoy here that this is VERY NEARLY the most enjoyable cinematic experience I had all year … writer-director double-act Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck may only be known for smart, humble indies like Half Nelson and Mississippi Grind, but they’ve taken to the big budget, all-action blockbuster game like ducks to water, co-scripting with Geneva Robertson-Dworet (writer of the Tomb Raider reboot movie and the long-gestating third Sherlock Holmes movie) to craft yet another pitch-perfect MCU origin story, playing a sneakily multilayered, misleading game of perception-versus-truth as we’re told how Carol got her powers and became the unstoppable badass supposedly destined to turn the tide in a certain Endgame … slyly rolling the clock back to the mid-90s, we’re presented with a skilfully realised mid-90s period culture clash adventure as Carol, a super-powered warrior fighting for the Kree Empire against the encroaching threat of the shape-shifting Skrulls, crash-lands in California and winds up uncovering the hidden truth behind her origins, with the help of a particular SHIELD agent, before he wound up with an eye-patch and a more cynical point-of-view – yup, it’s a younger, fresher Nick Fury (the incomparable Samuel L. Jackson, digitally de-aged with such skill it’s really just a pure, flesh-and-blood performance). There’s action, thrills, spectacle and (as always with the MCU) pure, skilfully observed, wry humour by the bucket-load, but one of the biggest strengths of the film is the perfectly natural chemistry between the two leads, Larson and Jackson playing off each other BEAUTIFULLY, no hint of romantic tension, just a playfully prickly, banter-rich odd couple vibe that belies a deep, honest respect building between both the characters and, clearly, the actors themselves.  There’s also sterling support from Jude Law as Kree warrior Yon-Rogg, Carol’s commander and mentor, Ben Mendelsohn, slick, sly and surprisingly seductive (despite a whole lot of make-up) as Skrull leader Talos, returning MCU-faces Clark Gregg and Lee Pace as rookie SHIELD agent Phil Coulson (another wildly successful de-aging job) and Kree Accuser Ronan, Annette Bening as a mysterious face from Carol’s past and, in particular, Lashana Lynch (Still Star-Crossed, soon to be seen in No Time To Die) as Carol’s one-time best friend and fellow Air Force pilot Maria Rambeau, along with the impossibly adorable Akira Akbar as her precocious daughter Monica … that said, the film is frequently stolen by a quartet of ginger tabbies who perfectly capture fan-favourite Goose the “cat” (better known to comics fans as Chewie).  This is about as great as the MCU standalone films get – for me it’s up there with the Russo’s Captain America films and Black Panther, perfectly pitched and SO MUCH FUN, but with a multilayered, monofilament-sharp intelligence that makes it a more cerebrally satisfying ride than most blockbusters, throwing us a slew of skilfully choreographed twists and narrative curveballs we almost never see coming, and finishing it off with a bucket-load of swaggering style and pure, raw emotional power (the film kicks right off with an incredibly touching, heartfelt tear-jerking tribute to Marvel master Stan Lee).  Forget Steve Rogers – THIS is the Captain MCU fans need AND deserve, and I am SO CHUFFED they got my favourite Avenger so totally, perfectly RIGHT.  I can die happy now, I guess …

3.  JOHN WICK CHAPTER 3 – needless to say, those who know me should be in no doubt why THIS was at the top of my list for summer 2019 – this has EVERYTHING I love in movies and more. Keanu Reeves is back in the very best role he’s ever played, unstoppable, unbeatable, un-killable hitman John Wick, who, when we rejoin him mere moments after the end of 2017’s phenomenal Chapter 2, is in some SERIOUSLY deep shit, having been declared Incommunicado by the High Table (the all-powerful ruling elite who run this dark and deadly shadowy underworld) after circumstances forced him to gun down an enemy on the grounds of the New York Continental Hotel (the inviolable sanctuary safe-house for all denizens of the underworld), as his last remaining moments of peace tick away and he desperately tries to find somewhere safe to weather the initial storm.  Needless to say the opening act of the film is ONE LONG ACTION SEQUENCE as John careers through the rain-slick streets of New York, fighting off attackers left and right with his signature brutal efficiency and unerring skill, perfectly setting up what’s to come – namely a head-spinning, exhausting parade of spectacular set pieces that each put EVERY OTHER offering in every other film this past year to shame.  Returning director Chad Stahelski again proves that he’s one of the very best helmsmen around for this kind of stuff, delivering FAR beyond the call on every count as he creates a third entry to a series that continues to go from strength to strength, while Keanu once again demonstrates what a phenomenal screen action GOD he is, gliding through each scenario with poise, precision and just the right balance of brooding charm and so-very-done-with-this-shit intensity and a thoroughly enviable athletic physicality that really does put him on the same genre footing as Tom Cruise.  As with the first two chapters, what plot there is is largely an afterthought, a facility to fuel the endless wave of stylish, wince-inducing, thoroughly exhilarating violent bloodshed, as John cuts another bloody swathe through the underworld searching for a way to remove the lethal bounty from his head while an Adjudicator from the High Table (Orange Is the New Black’s Asia Kate Dillon) arrives in New York to settle affairs with Winston (Ian McShane), the manager of the New York Continental, and the Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne) for helping John create this mess in the first place.  McShane and Fishburne are both HUGE entertainment in their fantastically nuanced large-than-life roles, effortlessly stealing each of their scenes, while the ever-brilliant Lance Reddick also makes a welcome return as Winston’s faithful right-hand Charon, the concierge of the Continental, who finally gets to show off his own hardcore action chops when trouble arrives at their doorstep, and there are plenty of franchise newcomers who make strong impressions here – Dillon is the epitome of icy imperiousness, perfectly capturing the haughty superiority you’d expect from a direct representative of the High Table, Halle Berry gets a frustratingly rare opportunity to show just how seriously badass she can be as former assassin Sofia, the manager of the Casablanca branch of the Continental and one of John’s only remaining allies, Game of Thrones’ Jerome Flynn is smarmy and entitled as her boss Berrada, and Anjelica Houston is typically classy as the Director, the ruthless head of New York’s Ruska Roma (John’s former “alma mater”, basically).  The one that REALLY sticks in the memory, though, is Mark Dacascos, finally returning to the big time after frustrating years languishing in lurid straight-to-video action dreck and lowbrow TV hosting duties thanks to a BLISTERING turn as Zero, a truly brilliant semi-comic creation who routinely runs away with the film – he’s the Japanese master ninja the Adjudicator tasks with dispensing her will, a thoroughly lethal killer who may well be as skilled as our hero, but his deadliness is amusingly tempered by the fact that he’s also a total nerd who HERO WORSHIPS John Wick, adorably geeking out whenever their paths cross.  Their long-gestating showdown provides a suitably magnificent climax to the action, but there’s plenty to enjoy in the meantime, as former stuntman Stahelski and co keep things interestingly fluid as they constantly change up the dynamics and add new elements, from John using kicking horses in a stable and knives torn out of display cases in a weaponry museum to dispatch foes on the fly, through Sofia’s use of attack dogs to make the Moroccan portion particularly nasty and a SPECTACULAR high octane sequence in which John fights katana-wielding assailants on speeding motorcycles, to the film’s UNDISPUTABLE highlight, an astounding fight in which John takes on Zero’s disciples (including two of the most impressive guys from The Raid movies, Cecep Arif Rahman and Yayan Ruhian) in (and through) an expansive chamber made up entirely of glass walls and floors.  Altogether then, this is business as usual for a franchise that’s consistently set the bar for the genre as a whole, an intensely bruising, blissfully blood-drenched epic that cranks its action up to eleven, shot with delicious neon-drenched flair and glossy graphic novel visual excess, a consistently inspired exercise in fascinating world-building that genuinely makes you want to live among its deadly denizens (even though you probably wouldn’t live very long).  The denouement sets things up for an inevitable sequel, and I’m not at all surprised – right from the first film I knew the concept had legs, and it’s just too good to quit yet.  Which is just how I like it …

2.  AVENGERS: ENDGAME – the stars have aligned and everything is right with the world – the second half of the ridiculously vast, epic, nerve-shredding and gut-punching MCU saga that began with 2018’s Avengers: Infinity War has FINALLY arrived and it’s JUST AS GOOD as its predecessor … maybe even a little bit better, simply by virtue of the fact that (just about) all the soul-crushing loss and upheaval of the first film is resolved here.  Opening shortly after the universally cataclysmic repercussions of “the Snap”, the world at large and the surviving Avengers in particular are VERY MUCH on the back foot as they desperately search for a means to reverse the damage wrought by brutally single-minded cosmic megalomaniac Thanos and his Infinity Stone-powered gauntlet – revealing much more dumps so many spoilers it’s criminal to continue, so I’ll simply say that their immediate plan really DOESN’T work out, leaving them worse off than ever.  Fast-forward five years and the universe is a very different place, mourning what it’s lost and torn apart by grief-fuelled outbursts, while our heroes in particular are in various, sometimes better, but often much worse places – Bruce Banner/the Hulk (Mark Ruffallo) has found a kind of peace that’s always eluded him before, but Thor (Chris Hemsworth) really is a MESS, while Clint Barton/Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) has gone to a VERY dark place indeed. Then Ant-Man Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) finds a way back from his forced sojourn in the Quantum Realm, and brings with him a potential solution of a very temporal nature … star directors the Russo Brothers, along with returning screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, have once again crafted a stunning cinematic masterpiece, taking what could have been a bloated, overloaded and simply RIDICULOUS narrative mess and weaving it into a compelling, rich and thoroughly rewarding ride that, despite its THREE HOURS PLUS RUNNING TIME, stays fresh and interesting from start to finish, building on the solid foundations of Infinity War while also forging new ground (narratively speaking, at least) incorporating a wonderfully fresh take on time-travel that pokes gleeful fun at the decidedly clichéd tropes inherent in this particular little sub-genre.  In fact this is frequently a simply HILARIOUS film in its own right, largely pulling away from the darker tone of its predecessor by injecting a very strong vein of chaotic humour into proceedings, perfectly tempering the more dramatic turns and epic feels that inevitably crop up, particularly as the stakes continue to rise.  Needless to say the entire cast get to shine throughout, particularly those veterans whose own tours of duty in the franchise are coming to a close, and as with Infinity War even the minor characters get at least a few choice moments in the spotlight, especially in the vast, operatic climax where pretty much the ENTIRE MCU cast return for the inevitable final showdown.  It’s a masterful affair, handled with skill and deep, earnest respect but also enough irreverence to keep it fun, although in the end it really comes down to those big, fat, heart-crushing emotional FEELS, as we say goodbye to some favourites and see others reach crossroads in their own arcs that send them off in new, interesting directions.  Seriously guys, keep a lot of tissues handy, you really will need them.  If this were the very last MCU film ever, I’d say it’s a PERFECT piece to go out on – thankfully it’s not, and while it is the end of an era the franchise looks set to go on as strong as ever, safe in the knowledge that there’s plenty more cracking movies on the way so long as Kevin Feige and co continue to employ top-notch talent like this to make their films. Eleven years and twenty-two films down, then – here’s to eleven and twenty-two more, I say …

1.  THE IRISHMAN (aka I HEARD YOU PAINT HOUSES) – beating smash-hit superhero movies and unstoppable assassin action-fests to the top spot is no mean feat, but so completely blowing me away that I had NO OTHER CHOICE than to put this at NUMBER ONE is something else entirely.  Not only is this the best thing I saw at the cinema this past year, but I’d be happy to say it’s guaranteed to go down as one of my all-time greats of the entire decade. I’ve been an ardent fan of the filmmaking of Martin Scorsese ever since I first properly got into cinema in my early adolescence, when I was first shown Taxi Driver and was completely and irrevocably changed forever as a movie junkie.  He’s a director who impresses me like a select few others, one of the true, undisputable masters of the craft, and I find it incredibly pleasing that I’m not alone in this assertion.  Goodfellas and The Departed are both numbered among my all-time favourite crime movies, while I regard the latter as one of the greatest films of the current cinematic century.  I’ve learned more about the art and craft of filmmaking and big-screen storytelling from watching Scorsese’s work than from any other director out there (with the notable exception of my OTHER filmmaking hero, Ridley Scott), and I continue to discover more about his films every time I watch them, so I never stop.  Anyways … enough with the gushing, time to get on with talking about his latest offering, a Netflix Original true-life gangster thriller of truly epic proportions chronicling the career and times of Frank Sheeran, a Philadelphia truck driver who became the most trusted assassin of the Northeastern Pennsylvania crime family and, in particular, its boss (and Sheeran’s best friend) Russell Bufalino, particularly focusing on his rise to power within the Philly Mob and his significant association with controversial and ultimately ill-fated Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa.  It’s a sprawling epic in the tradition of Scorsese’s previously most expansive film, Casino, but in terms of scope this easily eclipses the 1995 classic, taking in SIX DECADES of genuinely world-changing events largely seen through Sheeran’s eyes, but as always the director is in total control throughout, never losing sight of the true focus – one man’s fall from grace as he loses his soul to the terrible events he takes part in.  Then again, the screenplay is by Steve Zaillian (Schindler’s List, Moneyball, Fincher’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), one of the true masters of the art form, with whom Scorsese previously worked with on Gangs of New York, so it’s pure gold – tight as a drum, razor sharp and impossibly rich and rewarding, the perfect vehicle for the director to just prep his cast and run with it.  And WHAT A CAST we have here – this is a three-way lead master-class of titanic proportions, as Scorsese-regular Robert De Niro and his Goodfellas co-star Joe Pesci are finally reteamed as, respectively, Sheeran and Bufalino, while Al Pacino gets to work with the master for the first time as Hoffa; all three are INCREDIBLE, EXTRAORDINARY, on absolute tip-top form as they bring everything they have to their roles, De Niro and Pesci underplaying magnificently while Pacino just lets rip with his full, thunderous fury in a seemingly larger-than-life turn which simply does one of history’s biggest crooks perfect justice; the supporting cast, meanwhile, is one of the strongest seen in cinema all year, with Ray Romano, Bobby Canavale, Anna Paquin, Stephen Graham, Harvey Keitel, Stephanie Kurtzuba (The Wolf of Wall Street), Jack Huston (Boardwalk Empire) and Jesse Plemmons among MANY others all making MAJOR impressions throughout, all holding their own even when up against the combined star power of the headlining trio.  This is filmmaking as high art, Scorsese bringing every trick at his considerable, monumentally experienced disposal to bear to craft a crime thriller that strongly compares not only to the director’s own best but many of the genre’s own other masterpieces such as The Godfather and Chinatown.  It may clock in at a potentially insane THREE HOURS AND TWENTY-NINE MINUTES but it NEVER feels overlong, every moment crafted for maximum impact with a story that unfolds so busily and with such mesmerising power it’s impossible to get bored with it.  The film may have received a limited theatrical release, obviously reaching MOST of its audience when unleashed on Netflix nearly a month later, but I was one of the lucky few who got to see it on the big screen, and BELIEVE ME, it was totally worth it.  Best thing I saw in 2019, ONE OF the best things I saw this past decade, and DEFINITELY one of Scorsese’s best films EVER.  See it, any way you can.  You won’t be disappointed.

[mable-stitchpunk]

Jester Lure: A Massive Character Questionnaire

Here’s a long list of questions and answers detailing Jester Lure, the lead character in my book A Fool’s Endeavor and the upcoming A Fool’s Golden Cage. The questions were taken from Charahub, a website for creating and tracking characters that was unfortunately shut down. Thankfully, a kind soul saved the list of questions- so here we go!

Short Description: Name: Lure or Jester Lure by title.

Pronounced: Like lure usually is- “Loo-er”.

Age: Early twenties.

Extra: Nickname: None, just Lure.

Occupation: Court jester to the princess of Acalathoy, full-time jester.

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Physical Description: Usually seen wearing a full jester ensemble of navy and cyan, fit with hat, gloves, and boots. Wears a gold and ivory colored mask that fully covers his face. Underneath his costume, he has sienna skin- affectionately called ‘cinnamon’- and soft brown hair that is usually bedraggled from his costume. 

Personality: Lure is vibrant and full of life, with a sarcastic streak and an ounce of wit mixed in. He tries to keep things optimistic even when his words portray him as a bit more cynical than that. He can be reckless at times, but is smart enough to prefer talking himself out of a situation before jeopardizing himself, and is rather good at it. There are parts to him that are sly and cunning, but Lure is not without morals, and he is very loyal to those who become close with him. He relishes his job as jester and holds his title with pride, but begrudgingly accepts that few others respects his role. He loves his young princess and enjoys the life he has with her, enough so that he is able to stifle the desire he has for travel and adventure. (Though if given the proper means, Lure will throw himself into an adventure without much preparation and find a way to stay on his feet.)

Fandom: A Fool’s Fables (A Fool’s Endeavor, A Fool’s Golden Cage, ect.) 

Sexuality: The only person Lure’s been attracted to has been another man.

Voice: Naturally warm, going between cheerfully chirp to dead flat to go with the mood.

Back Story: The backstory Lure spreads is that he was found by the queen as a baby, who was so endeared by him that she took him in and raised him as her personal jester. Sadly, the queen passed on shortly after the birth of her daughter. Lure became the princess’ jester to help make up for the lack of a mother figure. Even though the king wasn’t entirely fond of him, he helped raise her alongside the nursemaid who helped raise him.

Ongoing Story: In A Fool’s Endeavor, an attack on the castle led to the king being killed and the princess being kidnapped. Lure went on a foolhardy quest to rescue her, joining up with Apprentice Balsam, Sir Morrick, and Hunter Yves. In A Fool’s Golden Cage, Lure will be afflicted with a strange ailment and need to journey for a cure, again accompanied by his companions.

Likes: Music, Astronomy, Astrology, Divination Cards (Tarot), the overall act of jesting, reading fables, extravagant costumes and colorful fabrics, roasted pheasant and pastries, feeling like he won an argument, traveling, his close knit group of allies, tending to his princess, and being able to witness extraordinary things up close. 

Dislikes: His costume getting destroyed and needing mending, ‘peasant food’ such as sop and gruel, ‘evil’ jester stereotypes, loss of control or choice, his princess being upset, and stagnation. 

Strengths: Lure is athletic and acrobatic, and knows some self-defense techniques. He’s capable with a dagger, which he always keeps in his boot, and by the second book begins bringing a poleaxe with him. However, Lure’s greatest strength is his ability to find ways around direct fighting. If he can find a way that avoids direct conflict then he will take it. He also uses a more theatrical persona to convince others more easily, usually to mislead or get assistance. 

Weaknesses: Lure can be a bit reckless and get in over his head without considering the repercussions. He’s also of slender build and wears no armor, meaning that if confronted head on he has a mark disadvantage.

Favorite color: Blue, all shades.

Kind of clothing: As said before, Lure typically wears a navy and cyan jester costume. He has a few of these, most in the same colors but with different patterns on them. Instead of typical jester shoes, he wears leather boots, and typically carries a card pouch at his waist. 

What element would they be?: Fire. Burns warmly, glows brightly, and doesn’t handle water too well.  (At least, at the beginning of the first book.)

Theme song: Lure might write his own, but personally I could see ‘The Show Must Go On’ or ‘Seven Seas of Rhye’ by Queen.

Deadly sin that best represents them: Maybe lust- not in the typical sexual sense, but that lust for life and his job in life being to literally entertain and enthrall. 

Hobbies: Divination Card reading, instrument playing, reading, and dabbles in astronomy and alchemy at times. He also enjoys playing games like chess, cards, and backgammon.

Special skills/talents: Lure is a gifted virtuoso, learning how to play the harp and lute at a young age. As such, he can pretty much work with any string instrument and make some form of music, even if it is new to him. He’s also good with making up song lyrics on the spot. There are other various things, such as juggling, tumbling, and various ‘jester’ acts that would be expected. Knows some self-defense. 

Patience level: Depends on the circumstances, but Lure’s capable of grin-and-bearing through many situations if the need comes. If in a situation where it doesn’t matter what he says, he will willingly speak his mind.

Regrets: During A Fool’s Endeavor he regrets letting the princess get captured, even when he truly tried to protect her, but gets over it by the second book. Lure’s not the type to linger on past stakes after they are no longer relevant.

Favorite places: Lure has a few special places. The princess’ bedroom and playroom is one of them, as this is where he spent most of his time in raising and playing with the young girl. The courtyard is also a place where he frequently gets away to. Even though introduced to it at a poor time in his life, Lure is fond of Alchemist Coffcord’s home. It is the only ‘quaint’ home he would prefer over the castle setting.

Role model: He looked up to both the queen and the king while growing up. 

Favorite foods: Roasted pheasant, venison, tarts, pies, mousse, freshly baked bread, rich cheese, sugared and glazed nuts, and fruits such as figs, plums, and pomegranates. 

Favorite book: He loves fairy tales, fables, and legends that he can read and then retell to others later.

Mode of transportation: Across the books he’s used various means of transportation- mostly walking- but he knows how to ride a horse.

Weapon: Keeps a dagger in his boot that he got from Balsam. During the second book, Morrick gives him a poleaxe to defend himself.

Smells like: herosmellslike.com claims Lure smells like ‘spring water and desert’, so lets go with that.

How do they feel about love: Lure has experienced familial, platonic, and romantic love and is for all three. As cynical as he is, he makes bonds with people and then does all he can to keep them.

Least favorite color: Dull grey or sunken brown- if it is worn out and faded. 

Home town/Where they live now: the Kingdom of Acalathoy

Makes a living by: Being the court jester and personal playmate of the princess.

Fears or phobias: During A Fool’s Endeavor, Lure copes with a fear of water and drowning, but he slowly overcomes it and faces it by the end of the book. One of his biggest fears is, ironically, to lose his title of a jester and be forced to the life of a nameless, faceless jester.

Race, ethnicity and nationality: Lure is a citizen of Acalathoy and of mixed ethnicity, with his mother being fair skinned and his father having a darker skin tone. Music they listen to: He likes most kinds of music, but especially likes flute music- perhaps because it is the one instrument he has limited access to and is completely unpracticed in.

Bad habits: The closest thing would be Lure’s pickiness with food.

What turns them on: He’s excited by displays of strength and passion, but also has an extreme soft spot for those who are willing to show a gentle hand.

What turns them off: Romantic-wise, he is not interested in anyone like himself, ironically enough. He’s also disinterested in ‘stuffy’ people who lack passion in something.

If they transitioned from their world to ours, how would they react: Lure would put on a bright face and be full of quips, all while withholding the inward horror that none of his survival tactics would work here... Though he would probably like how accessible entertainment is. 

Religious and to what extent? Any spiritual beliefs?: There are various religions in Lure’s world. He worships one that may be titled ‘Fateism’, which worships the Creator, Death, and Fate. While Lure is not overly religious, he does seem to believe in some divine being.

Pet peeves: The biggest one would be the constantly passed around belief that jesters are evil and shady. Though he also doesn’t like narrow-minded folk or people unwilling to listen to reason.

Personal problems: Lure must constantly wear a mask to hide a secret that isn’t just his.

What ONE item would they take to an uninhabited island: Probably his dagger. It has so many uses.

Outlook on life: A cynical realist, Lure actually has a positive outlook, believing that it is worth fighting for a better life.

Most important person in their life: Even with a romantic partner and friends, Princess Vivianne would still be the most important person in his life. He does all he can to protect her and keep her happy.

What was your character like as a child: He was attentive and well-behaved, listening closely to his queen and learning everything she taught him.

What (if they can) does your character eat: Usually whatever the princess is dining on or served to the court.

What is something other people assume about your character?: That he’s evil, both in story and out of the story. That evil jester plot point is tough to shake. XD

Do they like the name they were given: Lure loves his name so much that the fake name he occasionally uses, Cajole, is just a variation of his own name.

Nervous habits: He tugs at his collar when he gets flustered or overheated.

Siblings: Short answer: Yes.

Wears jewelry: Only if the mask counts.

Have they ever wanted to commit suicide: Never. Even at his lowest point, with his princess gone and his home destroyed, him at a loss and running out of options, Lure was desperate but unwilling to give up. He will risk his life for the slim chance he can succeed, but he is not suicidal.

Close friends: Balsam would be Lure’s closest friend. Their clashing personalities fill a void that each of them has and over the course of the books they become almost like brothers. Though Lure might worry Balsam at times, but he also guides him to be more bold. Likewise, Lure trusts Balsam’s word and is the first to assure him that he is more skilled than a simple apprentice.  Morrick originally start at odds, but then they start to acquire a mutual respect and understanding. Which then involves into something deeper and less friendly. While Yves is largely standoffish with everyone, Lure and Yves do become friendly and respect one another. They also share a similar interest in dry humor. Elia is the nursemaid who Lure has been close with for years, and is more of a motherly figure than a friend. In the same vein, Lure seem to look to Coffcord like a grandfather figure.

First kiss? (when and with whom): Spoilers: . Lure’s first kiss was with Morrick. If counting non-mouth kisses, his first is one Morrick gives him on the neck while on board a ship to Olaylark. The first true kiss would be between Lure and Morrick in an inn not too long after this. 

Views on gambling, lying, killing, etc...: Lure’s views on morals are not black and white. He makes playful jokes about those who give into temptation, but he doesn’t show real disdain for them. While he doesn’t think highly of lying and stealing, he is willing to do either if it is a situation where the greater picture is more important. Especially if it might lead to a life or death situation. While Lure believes self-defense is justified, him actually having to kill someone would horrify him- as seen in the first book. 

How much do they value money: Because of Lure’s circumstances- growing up in a court without much need for it- he sees money as just a tool and a means to an end. When in the castle, he’s willing to hand over shillings without care. Outside the castle, he’s willing to perform and tell fortunes to make shillings if it means supporting him and his allies.

Wants to get married: A private ceremony would be fine with him.

Wants to have kids, raise a family: He pretty much raised the princess, but he wouldn’t be against raising a ward or orphan offered to the court. Chances of him having his own children are unlikely.

Sworn enemy: None anymore.

Is their name a pun of anything: Lure’s name is literally a play on entertainment. That being said, the name Lure can be a stand-in for the name Leroy, which means ‘the King’. This was something I found out after naming him, so it wasn’t on purpose. XD

Anyone they really hate: During the first book, he despised the King of Olaylark, who was the one who attacked his kingdom and took the princess.

Most traumatic experience: Even with the horrible attack on the castle, the death of the queen is still what he considers one of the worst periods of his life. Largely because of how quickly she passed.

Favorite holiday: The Feast of Fools, a jester themed holiday that falls close to what we would see as Christmas. Slightly different than the Feast of Fools from our history, the day is seen as a celebration of merriment, playfulness, indulgence, and gift exchange. 

Well, that’s it for now! Hope you enjoyed!

[cecilyneville]

I finished The Crown and I have many thoughts:

I love this show obviously but it’s nowhere near as good as it thinks it is, The Crown is made for a) people who claim to be left-wing but see the Queen and go “yaaaasss she’s a cute gin-swilling old lady throwing shade” and b) people who hated Downton Abbey but still watched the whole thing, I fall into one of these camps

what’s with Margaret’s friends calling her “Margot”, you KNOW she wouldn’t allow anyone to call her anything other than “Your Royal Highness” bc she was a horrible snobby person

Lol @ Dickie going on about patriotism and the good old days and everyone in the audience (presumably) being like “you’re not even British you idiot”, he is the worst (Charles Dance is at his imperious best in this but I preferred Greg Wise’s more avuncular take on Dickie as it masked his self-serving nature quite nicely). Anyway, only a few more years before he gets blown up by the IRA, people!!!

Jason Watkins always looks as if he’s about to vomit or pass out and I love it, truly one of the greatest character actors out there

The soundtracking for this season is really exceptional, they’ve toned down the “music swells dramatically as Elizabeth makes a Big Decision” aspect of the show and I’m grateful (shoutout to my boy Martin Phipps)

I cannot BELIEVE Dickie is planning out a literal military COUP, I refuse to believe this actually happened

Sure hope Netflix are shilling out for some physio sessions for Tobias Menzies and Josh O’Connor, my neck hurts just watching them hunch their shoulders in like that

Would like more scenes between Charles and Philip, not because I actually care about the characters, I just want my two number one boys acting out emotionally charged scenes

The worst thing is that Peter Morgan genuinely does want us to believe that there is a similarity between a nation that’s been dominated by the English for centuries - had its culture and language suppressed - and a sullen posh twit with his head in the clouds

I am such a sucker for “tonally different but thematically appropriate” songs being used over episode credits, and the use of “Carlo” is sooooo good, ep 6 is my fave thus far, I love Josh so much

Oh god those poor fucking astronauts, imagine coming back from the moon, embarking on a worldwide press tour, you’re exhausted and rundown and all of a sudden you’re corralled into a side room of Buckingham Palace so Prince Philip can ramble at you about his midlife crisis

They’ve overcorrected with Philip this season, he’s way too nice (as if he would sit in front of a bunch of clergymen and be like “oh I’m sad I need help”), but Tobias’ performance is so endearing and charming that I’m just enjoying it for what it is (still gonna party hard when the real Philip dies tho)

The Margaret finale is exceptional but I’m really disappointed we didn’t get more of her this season, you don’t cast HBC and have her as a glorified extra for half the season, also where was the time Snowdon wore a paper bag over his head because “he couldn’t stand the fucking sight of her”

The scene where they interrogate Anne over the whole love quadrangle thing in the middle of the power outage is incredible but I found eps 8 and 9 to be fairly bland

Also did they completely forget Edward VIII being a literal Nazi collaborator orrrrr

Did everyone have a fave rando British actor appearance, mine was Andrew Buchan with apologies to Sam West (I’m not including Emerald Fennell in this category)

Great that we’re getting some good needle drops, if we’re submitting requests for next season I want The Jam’s ‘The Bitterest Pill I Ever Had To Swallow’ for the Charles/Camilla/Diana love triangle

Concerned that season 4 is going to feel very rushed (given that it sounds like they’re going to go all the way through the 1980s) but brace yourselves for hot Thatcher I guess. I feel like Peter Morgan kind of shot himself in the foot when he devoted so much time to the first ten years of Elizabeth’s reign and now has 4 seasons to whip through the remaining ~50 years, it’s going to be very jarring when they cast much older actors for the final 2 seasons when everyone here’s only 10 years (give or take) older than the first cast

Overall - better than season 2 but not as good as season 1, Olivia is fantastic but I find myself wanting to revisit Claire’s performance (she was just THAT good), I like that the expanded cast of characters turns it into a family drama even if the downside is that it can feel a bit disjointed. Ep 6 is definitely my fave but eps 2, 3, 4, 7, 10 also excellent

[theheadlessgroom]

About the muse

I was tagged by: No one! Tagging: All who’d like to do it!

Don’t reblog if tagged, copy, paste, re-post with your answers.

Name: Randall Huit Pace

Age: Is really 237 years old, but mentally thinks and feels like he’s 33, the age he was when he died

Height: 4′12

Weight: Probably weighs 100 lbs. soaking wet

Blood Type: AB-

Eye color: Was pale green, now a milky white

Hair color: Was jet-black, now more gray/salt and pepper

Date of Birth: May 9th, 1782

Zodiac sign: Taurus

Shoe size: 8.5

Favorite Color(s): White is his favorite, but he also likes grays, blacks, greens, and blues

Favorite smell(s): Roses, a fresh pot of hot black coffee, homemade foods, strawberries, and the scent of Emily’s perfume 

Birth Gem: Emerald

Race: Human male; now a ghost (specifically classified as a phantasm)

Talent(s): Hat-making, sewing/mending clothing, singing, and climbing-he’s also a fair dancer and a decent cook when the situation calls for it

A wish they have always wanted: When he was a boy, he often wished for stability in his life; for his mother not to have to constantly work to keep food on the table, mainly. These days, he mostly just wishes to have his wife back.

An item they hold dear to their heart: Lots of things that he’s very proud to have made, but Emily’s wedding veil ranks up there as being both his masterpiece and a very important symbol of their relationship. There’s love in every stitch, made for her and no one else-and it was really the object that brought them together, as she’d been looking for one when she came into his haberdashery. 

Favorite sound(s): Jazz music, the Singing Busts, the Organist’s music, the delighted shrieks of their mortal guests, and, of course, Emily’s lilting, beautiful voice

Fear(s): Autophobia, or the fear of abandonment. He doesn’t want to be banished from the Mansion again, nor does he want to never see Emily again.

Accomplishment(s): Helped his mother by taking on odd jobs from an early age in order to earn extra money; faced down heaps of discrimination for his Irish heritage; ‘lived’ a happy life post-mortem with the woman he loves; remains an iconic fixture of the Mansion and a certain beloved status among the mortals despite his decades-long absence 

Your muse’s catchphrase(s): Usually he gives a dark chuckle when you see him in the attic, performing his little ‘trick’, but any pun related to the loss of his head will do as well 

Likes: Anything to do with Emily, silent horror movies (or really anything with Lon Chaney in it), sewing/hat-making, music and dance, scaring mortals, and a good homecooked meal

Dislikes: Anything to do with Constance, flash photography, the thought of never seeing Emily again

Any scars?: One long, thin, jagged one that winds around his throat; this is the telltale scar he received upon losing his head-it’s prone to aching and sharp pain (usually around his deathday) and is extremely sensitive to the touch; the only person besides himself allowed to touch it is Emily

Birthmarks?: None

Something about your muse that is different from everyone else: A less-than-happy haunt on the outside, with a heart of gold on the inside

What makes your muse cry?: The memory of losing his mother, being banished, or coming home to find Emily gone and Constance in her place; certain horror movies (especially if the monster is hopelessly in love with the leading lady, such as in films like The Mummy and The Bride of Frankenstein)

What makes your muse happy?: A little peace and quiet between mortal tours; a good drink (non-alcoholic, preferably); old love songs; anything and everything to do with Emily

What makes your muse laugh?: The antics of the Hitchhiking Ghosts, some of the Ghost Host’s spookier puns (no matter how cringeworthy), joking around with Dorian, silent comedies (put on a Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd movie, and he’ll be wheezing with laughter in no time) 

Does your muse love his/her parents? Why or why not?: Randall doesn’t really remember his father, and even then, he doesn’t have the greatest opinion of him, considering it was his alcoholism that led to his struggle to hold down a job and subsequent demise while out fishing, leaving Randall’s mother to be the primary breadwinner and caregiver to her only son. He was very close to her in life, and misses her dearly in death

Does you muse have any friends? Which friend is closest to him/her?: Randall has a handful of good friends, but none are closer to him than Dorian Gracey, the master of the Mansion. Having known each other since boyhood, the two have a brotherly rapport, and it shows in nearly every aspect of their friendship

Your muse’s favorite food?: Potato soup and corned beef are perennial favorites, though he’s also never met a strawberry he didn’t like

Does your muse follow a religion? If so, what is it and what are their beliefs?: Randall was raised Irish-Catholic (drawing much ire from his New Orleans neighbors), but he’s really pretty uncertain these days when it comes to the topic of religion, being a ghost and all

What would get your muse to fall in love with someone?: Just being Emily Randall is moved by genuine compassion and kindness, even towards those others might deem beneath them, as well having a good head on their shoulders (no pun intended) and an appreciation for hard work and the importance of family

Has your muse ever killed/murdered somebody? Why did they do it and what was their motive?: Never: Chalk it up to his being a murder victim himself, although he’s got a hair-trigger temper and wouldn’t balk at beating somebody over the head with his cane (or just throwing a good punch), he wouldn’t resort to murder. That’s Constance’s MO, not his

Does your muse have a type when it comes to physical attraction?: Randall has been infatuated by blondes since his youth, and he certainly doesn’t discount a fondness for blue eyes either. It doesn’t hurt to be a bit taller than him too, that he doesn’t mind

What does your muse find endearing personality wise?: Compassion and understanding, as well as valuing good, hard work, and the importance of family

What is the most stupidest/illogical thing your muse has done and why did they do it?: Oh, there’s a handful of examples that could be given here, as Randall is oftentimes a very emotional spook, and as such flies off the handles at a moment’s provocation, usually if he’s driven into a rage. Some of the dumber things he’s done has involved goading Constance into a furious frenzy, leaving him to make a hasty escape, lest he wants to lose his head again 

[ketzwrites]

REWATCH 101: “THE MORTAL CUP”

Written by Ed Decter | Directed by McG 

Here are my thoughts on the very first episode of Shadowhunters. I think I might keep this format for the following episodes. 

Also, this rewatch will be random and sporadic. So, there’s that. Enjoy!

GENERAL NOTES

Jace bumps into Clary – not very professional, Jace: you’re invisible, not intangible. More importantly, though, Clary has the sight!

Clary introduces herself to examiners who are almost as unwelcome to her as the audience is. We learn about her drawing skills and that she sees weird symbols and demons around. Again, Clary has the sight!

Oh, yeah. Dot runs an antique shop. Also, hello there, Mortal Cup.

Are Clary and Maureen friends? Or is Maureen friends with Simon, who is friends with Clary? I need to know to evaluate how gratuitous this exposition conversation about Clary’s family history is.

Clary unintentionally draws an angelic rune. Because Clary has the sight! I cannot stress this enough.

Too bad Jace didn’t notice the angelic rune on the van. That could’ve been interesting. But, guys, Jace says it! Clary has the sight!!

Jace has a rather intimate approach to interrogating a Shax Demon. Weird take, but okay, Ed Decter. I guess Alec is… jealous? Mildly bored? Uncomfortable? I’m uncomfortable.

Why does Izzy refer to Alec as “my” brother and not “our” brother, I’ll never know. She refers to Jace as her “brother in every way” in the next episode, so there’s that.

Great scene where Izzy is forcing Alec’s suspicion to be based on jealousy while Alec corrects her and says it’s caution. We know he won the argument because he got the last word.

First “all the legends are true”!! Immediately followed by “we’re shadowhunters”, which is not a legend, but okay. 

we learn she’s been out for two days when Simon calls. This is important because it will be the longest episode timeline wise in this entire show.

Oh, this is the first time I notice the shadow passing behind Simon at 34:46. Cool.

Clary has been drawing runes without knowing about them because, you got it, Clary has the sight!

Is this “choose your path” scene with Jace and Simon pulling Clary to literal opposite directions a lot on the nose? Yes. Do I like it? Kind of. Also, here is the theme of the episode, kids. Clary’s two conflicting halves pulling her apart. She has to choose one or she’ll break.

THE GOOD

That whole teaser is great. A nice and functional introduction to the shadowhunters, the existence of demons, and to the fact that Clary is different than your regular mundane girl. Zero exposition is done by dialogue. Effective and compelling.

Clary and Simon's friendship is the sweetest. 

Luke’s terse response about Jocelyn creates some believability later on when he tells the Circle members he doesn’t care about the Frays. Same thing with Luke’s running out of patience with Jocelyn’s lies to Clary.

The dynamic between Clary and Dot is endearing. I’m buying their affection to one another and Dot being worried about what is waiting for Clary now that Jocelyn finally decided to stop gaslighting her own daughter.

“Mom, we’ve had the Talk. I’m good.” Even in the pilot, Clary is shown to be in charge of her own sexuality. Well done, show.

Good for Magnus for pointing out that erasing Clary’s memories won’t protect her. Also, good for the character of Magnus for going along with it anyway. Let’s hope this exchange between Magnus and Jocelyn gets referenced later on.

The entire re-introduction dynamic between Alec and Izzy, Izzy and Jace, Alec and Jace is absolute gold. It humanizes these three suspicious-looking superpowered people we saw in the teaser. Too bad we don’t get a little reaction from Jace to Alec’s snarky “platinum”. But we do get amazing characterization through their dialogue: Alec doesn’t care for mundanes and is the cynical one, Izzy has something to do with science and is the fun one, Jace doesn’t care about the rules and is the soldier-minded one.

Clary checking out Simon when he’s shirtless is there for a reason and I’ll never stop pointing it out.

Clary is a feminist icon and so she tries to help the “girl’ about to be attacked by the crazy dude with the glowing sword. After that, we get a great fight sequence where we infer that the Lightwoods are expert fighters, Alec and Jace act like Parabatai, Izzy kicks ass, and Clary yells and freaks out like the untrained eighteen-year-old she is.

Valentine mercilessly killing that mouthy Circle Member for insulting Jocelyn both works to establish how dangerous Valentine is and to show that his experiments are crazy.

THE BAD

Clary’ unawareness about Simon’s crush on her would be less annoying if she didn’t use such a flirty tone when praising his intelligence. Same thing with “That’s how I know it’s cool” and “You do not tattoo my neck. That creepy.” Whoever told Kat McNamara to use this pretentious sexy tone of voice was wrong. Clary sounds much better when she’s being sassy instead of flirty.

Honestly, “demonic murders” isn’t subtle at all. But aren’t the demons draining mundane blood artistically inclined? Who’d thought they would leave their dead mundane victims looking like a perfume ad?

No, Maureen. A single mother raising her only daughter by herself isn’t suspicious. It’s 2016, get on with the- Oh, wait. Jocelyn just took out a seraph blade and activated it for no reason at all besides being an act break. This level of needless drama requires a sensible third party. I take it back.

So, why exactly can’t Simon hear Jace? People will hear Clary’s phone ringing in a couple of episodes, so why is Jace’s voice inaudible now?

There is no in-context reason for the Circle Members not to mention Jocelyn’s marriage to Valentine as they try to recruit her back. Other than keeping that information hidden from the viewers, that is. But I guess it’s convenient that they don’t mention that in this private conversation.

Why would Valentine’s base be in Chernobyl? I get that they force warlocks to work for them. But still, why? Because it’s evil?

THE INTERESTING

The focus on the missing biscotti is a little heavy-handed, but it consists mostly in a visual-only plot point, so that’s good. 

It’s curious that Jocelyn introduces the Shadow World to Clary using a stele. That will eventually be Clary’s greatest weapon as a shadowhunter. She even uses it to stab a demon, her greatest move as a shadowhunter.

Simon singing “Forever Young” will always be a good foreshadowing. Also, this is the start of the show’s good use of Alberto’s musical talents.

The Circle Members recognize Jocelyn in Clary. Too bad they didn’t have Kat McNamara playing young-Jocelyn in the flashbacks. Give her some bangs and maybe a different tone of red. Kat can do a very good badass and it would highlight the differences between Clary and her mother at her age.

Clary spills out her MO in the first episode. “I’m not interested in being a part of your supernatural fight club. I just want to find my mom. The rest of it – whatever it is – all that I care about is finding my mother.” The warnings were all there and we missed it.