#i mean its probably good she found the radio but she literally fell down the stairs right after WITH BROKEN RIBS

[eldritchqueerture]

kinda insane how scary this podcast is. jesus christ. what is even going on

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 4

Summary: What was lost can be found. 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence. 

I was in the holiday spirit so I wrote this chapter. Kind of just filler stuff and LOTS of fluff. Enjoy!

Ch. 3

* * * * * *

“Awe, look at you in your fall colors.” You tease.

Wanda laughs, eyes on something ahead of her before she focuses on you,“ Laura gave me the scarf. I didn’t realize how cold it’d be today.”

You find your eyes looking at the window of your hotel,“ is it snowing there?”

Instead of answering, she flips the camera and you see the mix of leaves and snowflakes falling.

As beautiful as National City is, you admit you miss the weather in New York. The snow and leaves falling added to the holiday spirit. The white and shades of red screamed Thanksgiving. 

“You could always come back, at least for the day.” Your friend says, the camera turning back.

With a shake of your head, you tell her,“ I’d never make it back in time. Besides, Lena insisted I spend the day with her.” 

The brunette wiggles her eyebrows playfully. Only for her jaw to drop at the expression on your face.“ Oh my god you like her!”

“What? No.” You try to play it off with a laugh.

Good ole Wanda though, she can read you like a book(without the powers).“ That’s why you were so eager to go back to NC. You have a crush!”

“No I-” do you?

The idea isn’t far fetched. Lena’s an incredibly attractive woman. Intelligent, caring, ambitious, funny, genuine. But you have far too much going on with your emotions to even consider liking someone. Right? 

Were you not just telling Natasha how much it sucks to see her with Bruce? How could you go from hating to see that to suddenly liking someone? Is that really how your emotions are choosing to work?

Escaping the onslaught of thoughts, you find Wanda smirking at you.“ You like her.” She says with a nod and smile. 

“Doesn’t matter whether I do or not. There’s too much going on for me to be exploring something like that.”

She scoffs,“ yeah right. As we speak you’re on vacation. There’s no greater time to explore. And if you like her, you deserve to pursue it. If anyone should get a chance at happiness, it’s you.”

Damn. Could you have asked for a better best friend?

“Have I told you that you’re one of the few things I’m thankful for Wan?”

Blushing a little, she tells you,“ you hadn’t but I knew already. I’m thankful for you too, I-” a sudden swirl of emotions race through her eyes, red magic flickering with it,“ I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last few years.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but I’m glad I could be there for you.”

It’s quiet on her end for a moment before she can pull a smile,“ love you Y/n, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Love you too Wan and Happy Thanksgiving.”

With an over exaggerated kiss blown to the screen, Wanda hangs up, the lingering picture of her smiling face on your screen before it goes back to the generic wallpapered home screen.

You take a second to yourself, eyes trained on the city outside. 

There may not be any snow, but NC definitely has its own way of showing the holiday spirit. In that, a lot of the skyscrapers have large light displays on them. And where there are trees, the orange, red, and yellow leaves fell from them. 

Eventually, you get up to get ready. Taking a shower and putting on an outfit that reflects the season and holiday. 

Having everything you need, you call a car, waiting for it in the lobby with a cup of coffee. Once in the car, you let Lena know you’re on your way. 

It leaves you a little unnerved when she doesn’t reply as fast as usual. In fact she doesn’t reply at all but her doorman let’s you up so you know she’s home. 

When she pulls her door open and you take in her slightly frazzled state you frown.

“Should I have waited to come by? Is everything okay?” 

Lena’s heart melts at the worried expression on your face, a smile forming,“ no it’s fine I just, I forgot most restaurants are closed on Thanksgiving.”

A gasp leaves your lips,“ Miss Luthor,” you press a hand to your chest,“ take out is not a proper Thanksgiving meal.” 

Her mouth opens to reply but seeing your expression has her keeping it to herself. 

The few nights you’d spent here, you know Lena doesn’t keep her fridge and cupboards stocked.“ Come on, we’re going shopping.”

Lena will admit, she had a bit of a slow moment, wondering what shopping would do to solve the food issue. Arriving at the store though, she realizes you meant grocery shopping. 

Walking around the store with you pushing the cart is probably the most domestic thing Lena’s done in a long time. She finds herself falling in deeper with you as she sees how, almost childlike you are: riding on the cart every so often, throwing completely unnecessary snacks inside, and doing small little celebratory fist pumps when you find exactly what you need.

“Okay,” Lena breaks the quiet,“ are you secretly a chef outside of being an Avenger?” 

Currently the two of you stand in her kitchen, smooth jazz playing through the room’s speakers, Lena’s usual glass of wine on the counter mere inches from your glass of bourbon, as you prepare dinner. Admittedly Lena isn’t all that good at cooking, so she’s slightly fascinated with how easily you move about. 

You raise an eyebrow, fingers sprinkling seasoning over the Cornish Hens,“ what’d you mean?” 

“I just- you seem to be really good at this.” She gestures to you and the spread of food in front of you. 

Shrugging, you tell her,“ I just learned from my dad. He literally taught me everything I know.”

There goes that tone again. Your voice sounding far off. You reminiscing.

You slide the pan into the oven, setting a timer, and looking back with a smile, nodding for Lena to come over. 

She stands at your side, arms brushing with every move as you raise the lid off the skillet, steam rising from it,“ now don’t go sharing this recipe with anyone Miss Luthor.”

The CEO chuckles,“ well if it’s good I’ll have to capitalize on it.”

You laugh, eyes shutting with the action. So you miss the look Lena gives you, pride at being the reason you’re laughing and a longing to make that smile last.

From there you tell and show her the way you’d been taught to make yams: nutmeg, brown sugar, vanilla flavor, and butter. Then turning them over so the seasonings reach all the vegetables.

Grabbing a smaller spoon, you scoop some of it up, and hold it out to her. A hum of approval leaves Lena’s lips at the taste of it.

“That’s incredible.”

You watch the way her tongue runs over her lips, catching the remnants of the food, and resisting the urge to reach out and run your thumb across the pink muscle.

Opting to nod and jokingly say,” oh I know.”

She laughs with a shake of her head. 

It goes like that as you continue to cook. Once a dish is done, you give Lena a taste and she tells you how great it is. Until you’re setting it all out on the table in front of where Lena set out the plates and silverware. 

You both fix your plates and refill your drinks before sitting down.

“I’ll admit, this is a million times better than take out.”

While you hadn’t mentioned it before, you have to now,“ please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve had a home cooked meal for Thanksgiving.”

The CEO shrugs, a sad smile covering her lips as she says,“ well I’ve spent the last two in my office.”

You raise your eyebrows,“ and before then?”

“Meals were made by the chefs. And holidays with my family were usually, well awkward. With the tension between myself and my mother and Lex’s silence. . .”

Reaching over, you cover her hand with yours,“ family can be tough. But from what I’ve seen it seems you have a decent one.”

The brunette looks at you quizzically. Did you not hear what she just said?

“Not the Luthors,” you clarify,“ I mean your chosen family. Kara, Alex, everyone else. They care a lot about you and you love them too.”

Lena smiles fondly at that. It’s true.“ And here I’ve yet to see your family, related and chosen.”

“As far as my given family goes, it’s just me and a few distant cousins. My mom was never around much and my dad passed years ago. Right after I’d graduated college actually.”

There’s the confirmation of her thoughts. Though she wishes it’d come at a different time. 

She tries to lighten the mood,“ chosen?”

“Also complicated,” you chuckle,“ there’s all kinds of dynamics going around with them but we have each other’s backs in the end. I’d give my life for everyone one of them.”

“Anyone in particular?” She finds herself having to ask.

Praying silently that there isn’t. At least not in the way she’s referring to.

You nod with a smile,“ Wanda. She’s my best friend. A sister really. We’ve been close since she joined the team.”

She smiles for two reasons. One: you’re single. Two: it’s cute that you have someone like that. 

Throughout dinner you both joke and talk about lighter topics. Despite the numerous looks you give each other, neither of you catch it. 

When dinner is over(and leftovers are put away) you tackle the dishes and then move to the living room with your dessert. 

“Okay, apple cheesecake. Never knew I needed it.” She says with a chuckle.

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know right. Apart from strawberry and classic New York, it’s my favorite.” 

“I’m going to need you to make both of those for me, for research purposes.” She adds the last bit with a wink.

Laughing makes you lean just a little closer and Lena loves it. A quiet buzzing grabs yours and Lena’s attention. 

The woman pulling her phone out.“ Speaking of desserts, my chosen family has an abundance of it and has invited us over.” 

“Ooo, yes, I love desserts.” 

She smiles at you in amusement and together you both get ready to leave, Lena insisting that you bring your cheesecake. 

Unsurprisingly, christmas music is all over the radio on the drive over. You can’t say you expect anything less. 

With Lena at your side, you knock on Kara’s door. The blonde pulling it open in seconds. 

“Lena, Y/n, hi.” She hugs the both of you excitedly. 

“Thank you for inviting us.” Lena tells her friend. 

Stepping into the apartment, without a thought, you’re helping Lena take her coat off as she’s holding your dessert in one hand. With a blush, she thanks you, and you miss the wiggle of Kara’s eyebrows in her direction. 

Mon-El throws a hi your way and everyone else does the same.“ Do I see more desserts?” He leaps up, happily making his way over.

You accept the quick handshake he gives before looking over your shoulder to the pan in Lena’s hands.“ Yeah, Lena says my cheesecake is to die for and it’d be a crime not to share it.” 

The CEO’s jaw drops,“ I did not-” her elbow nudges your arm with a laugh,“ I didn’t say all that.” 

Placing a hand on her shoulder you smile,“ but I could tell that’s what you really meant.”

“So cute.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at Kara’s mumbled words. You and Lena? Could she see your crush on the woman as clearly as Wanda had? Is it that obvious?

Figuring she didn’t intend for anyone to hear that, you refrain from commenting. Instead walking with Mon-El to the kitchen island. 

“I never asked but what is it that you do?” Mon-El asks, head tilting in a way you’d seen Kara do a number of times. 

You accept the glass of water he passes you,“ I’m a weapons specialist for the Avengers, occasionally moonlighting as a hero.”

“Me too.” His eyes widen as does yours. 

“You’re a superhero?” 

The man’s eyes widen, uncertainty flickering through his eyes as they search yours. Then he chuckles and nods,“ yeah. Super being Alien. I’m from Daxam.”

“Daxam.” You’d heard of plenty of planets, never that one.“ Where is Daxam? I’ve been to a few galaxies and planets, I’ve never heard of Daxam.”

He thinks for a moment,“ I’m not sure what galaxy it would be in but it orbited Rao.”

“Rao? Is that like another planet or a sun?” 

Suddenly Kara appears at Mon-El’s side,“ what’re we talking about?” 

You send a glance to Mon-El, wondering if Kara already knows. His nod and pursed lips tells you she does.“ Mon-El was just telling me about Daxam and the-”

“Star.”

“The star it orbits.” 

It’s hard to place the expression on Kara’s face. Mainly because it’s a mix of a few emotions.“ Are you not surprised?”

You shrug,“ I am, just, well I’ve dealt with a number of aliens. Not many of them were good guys.”

Mon-El smiles widely, a matching one on Kara’s face. Little did you know, hearing that from you makes the blonde consider telling you about her heroic alter-ego.

Before she can mention it though, Winn comes sliding over, arms wrapping around you. Looking at him, you see the silverware hanging from his mouth. 

Patting his shoulder, you pull back a little,“ hey buddy, what’s goin on?” 

“This cheesecake is amazing.” His words come out with a little lisp due to the object in his mouth but you laugh nonetheless.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Finally he steps back and nods.“ How bout you show me where the rest of these desserts are.”

Together the two of you step over to the dining table where there’s a decent amount of desserts. You just have to put some of each on your plate.

When you plop down beside Lena she’s already wearing an expression of amusement. Looking at her, you smile softly,“ want some?” Her look of uncertainty makes you chuckle. Scooping a piece of pie up, you hold it towards her. 

Hesitantly she leans in and eats the sweet. Your eyes once again drawn to the way she licks her lips then back to her green orbs. 

“That’s really good.” 

You quickly eat a bite,“ oh wow, it is.”

“So!” All eyes snap to Kara as she walks over with the guys,“ we did this earlier but a few of us weren’t here so we’re going to do it again.” The woman sits on the arm of Mon-El’s chair.“ What are you thankful for?” 

Starting with herself, it goes around the room, until it gets to you.“ I am thankful for old friends and new,” you smile at the already smiling people around you,“ I haven’t known you guys long but you all mean a lot to me and I’m incredibly grateful to have met you all.”

Not being able to help herself, Kara throws her arms around you. Which incites Winn to hug the both of you and that just ends in a big group hug that dissolves in laughter.

* * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @marvel-wlw @aznblossom @chicken-wang09 @bitchtits15

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Finding Home

First / Wattpad / Ao3

A/N: Second to last chapter boiiissss :DD! once again betaed by the amazing @bookwyrminspiration! also @cadence-talle helped with editing after having to deal with me yell way to much about it!

words: 4731

tw: n/a if you do find any please let me know

The sun had set again, in a brilliant display of colors lighting up the sky. Sophie wondered what it would be like to be the sun; the center of everything, endlessly spinning. It was probably dizzying. 

She chuckled at the thought before turning back to her girls.

That was right, her girls. Her Linh and Amy. Linh made her feel like the sun sometimes, all dizzy inside and out, not quite knowing what way to go. Not knowing what was right, only what her instincts told her (even if they were wrong).

Linh held her hand as they walked, finding their way down to the van, old and worn down, but it still held up with only mild complaints. 

"We need more time," Fitz had groaned at the table that morning, Sophie responding with a hum of agreement. The twins weren't back to themselves yet and Sophie couldn't imagine going back to school and pretending that her best friend wasn't living with her pseudo-mom (was she even allowed to call Mari that?). Amy had perked up at Fitz's words, a mischievous smile on her face. 

"Sophie," she started. "Do you remember that cabin Mom and Dad used to take us to?"

Sophie did. All too clearly if she could say. It was a fairly large thing, they went on summer breaks, and whenever they could. Countless memories of laughing and running around as her parents haphazardly yelled at them to not break anything (they tried, they really did—it wasn't Sophie's fault that the vase just had to be right there). "I do," Sophie said hesitantly. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" Amy yelled way too conspicuously. "It’s just that it’s super cheap right now, and-" she trailed off. 

Sophie knew for a fact that it definitely wasn't cheap; the place was huge and everyone would be jumping to get at it. But, she hadn't seen her sister this nervous in forever, and it would be nice to see the place again, she had reasoned with herself. 

So, she agreed because god dammit her sister deserved something good. That was how they ended up standing next to the van, giving last minute hugs, and trading promises to see each other soon.

-

She was not panicking. There was no way that she was possibly panicking. Sophie "The Moonlark" fuckin’ Foster did not panic about something as simple as packing for a trip.

Except for the fact that she very much was. And it was very much not okay. 

"AMY!" she yelled, half stuck in her very small closet, as she stood on her tippy toes trying to reach the duffle bag stuffed in the very back. Why had she put it so far up? How had she put it so far up?

"AMY!" she called again. Where the hell was her sister? 

"WHAT!" Amy finally yelled back. 

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" 

A few complaints and grumbles later Amy was standing at her side. "What do you want? I have to pack still," Amy said.

"That’s exactly what I want," Sophie bit back. Amy raised her eyebrow and Sophie groaned. "I mean, what am I even supposed to pack?"

"Clothes?"

"No shit. But like what else."

"Sophie what the fuck how long has it been since you went somewhere?"

"We went to Mari's literally last week!"

"So why don't you know how to pack?"

"Cause that was for like two days! This is two weeks!" Sophie yelled, desperately throwing her hands up in distress. 

Amy muttered something along the lines of "You are helpless," under her breath before grabbing the duffle out of Sophie's hands. "Come on, Soybean. We got shit to do."

"You know, saying my childhood nickname and a curse in the same sentence is really jarring." Amy huffed a laugh before tearing through Sophie's poor closet.

-

The van felt too large and too small all at the same time. Their bags were thrown haphazardly in the back, along with an outrageous amount of snacks. But even with everything there was still room. The thing that made it feel small was the silence. Amy's silence, to be more specific. The worst part was Sophie knew exactly what it was about.

Music drifted through the car, some random song about love feeling like a movie, and it made Sophie want to hit the radio with a hammer. Unfortunately, Amy would murder her if she even made a scratch on the poor van that was already falling apart. So, in a desperate attempt to ignore her relationship problems she changed the station. In the corner of her eye she could see Amy shake her head.

Sophie didn't ask for this, okay? So, it meant that she didn't have to deal with it if it was too much, right? 

She knew she was wrong. Watching the memories, listening in, thinking of the girl she loved as a threat because that’s what she was trained to do! The war was over but its scars were still there. 

She didn't need Amy's eye rolls, or her head shakes of disapproval, she didn't need Fitz's butting in. She didn't need it, okay! She knew. But dear God it hurt.

It hurt when Linh had kissed her that morning. It hurt when she didn't quite know what to do, if she was moving her mouth right, or if Linh could just see straight through her. Every mistake, every broken thought. Every stupid, stupid decision.

And then the question had to come out of Amy's mouth.

That stupid stupid question she had asked a million times over.

"Why do you keep doing it?"

She wanted to cry. Cry until her eyes were dry and her throat hurt and her insides cracked. Because that's what she was, wasn't she? Cracked. Shattered. Broken. Sophie didn't know why she lied. Why she went into the girl who she swore she loved, business. Why couldn't she just stop? Why not?

"I don't know," she said truthfully. Her voice was roughed and scratchy and wrong. 

Amy sighed, "You know I love you. But you've got to tell her. Sooner or later, it’s just gonna tear you to shreds. And we both know you elves don’t do good with guilt."

"No, we don't," Sophie chucked bitterly. 

They settled into uneasy silence after that. For once though, Sophie found herself agreeing with Amy. She needed to tell Linh. They were a ticking time bomb, only good for broken hearts and massive collateral damage.

-

The cabin was exactly how she remembered it. Old wood, old beams, old memories. Glass windows that covered the towering walls, trees that went as far as the eye could see. It was cozy, and Sophie felt small again. Like a little child waiting for her parents to come in carrying their suitcases as she jumped around yelling with all the energy in the world.

It felt like home, welcoming her back with open arms. And she couldn't be happier. 

Well, until Linh had to walk and reality came crashing down. 

And it didn't help that Linh looked good. She wasn't even wearing anything special, a cardigan over a crop top, some worn jeans and nice boots. Her hair had two short braids going around her head like a circlet and connecting in the back like a crown. Sophie hoped she could just die on the spot.

But she couldn't, because Amy was showing her upstairs to put their bags away in their old room (She and Linh weren't rooming together because Amy stated that she didn't want anything gross to happen. She was lying, and Sophie would be eternally grateful for that). 

Sighing, she turned to go up the stairs, finally dragging her gaze away from Linh to haul the bags to their rightful spots. 

After the bags were thrown lazily on the bed Sophie resisted the urge to unpack them just so that she could put it off for longer. So she made her way down the stairs, quietly asked Linh if she would meet her on the porch, and opened the door with a heavy sigh.

The lights were low—in any other circumstance it should have been romantic. Well, it was romantic; to the blissfully unaware Linh. To Sophie it was ironic. 

She was cold, the air chilling her and it took everything in her to not wrap her arms around Linh's waist and bury her head into the crook of Linh's neck. Not right before spilling her guts. She promised Amy. Even if Linh hated her after, she had to do this. 

"I’m sorry." Okay, not a strong start, but still a start.

Linh tilted her head towards her, "Why?"

Her hands moved wildly in front of her, "I- everything."

"Love, you've gotta explain," Linh said, giving Sophie those stupid eyes that seemed to see right through her. 

Sophie sighed, she couldn't push this off any longer. The words fell out of her mouth like a waterfall, her hands following in stumbling movements. Tumbling out, overlapping each other, one not quite getting out fast enough before the next started. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could block out the world and forget about what she had done, what she was saying, the look on Linh's face.

Oh god that look. 

Sophie didn't think she would ever forget it. 

When the words stopped, and her hands stilled and the world seemed to stop with them. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt her shoulders hunch involuntarily, folding in on herself. Part of her wished this was a fight she could win,the match ending with one of them on top and a blade to someone’s throat- because that Sophie knew. Not these emotions that she was taught to shove in a box. Emotions got in the way. They affected decisions. Honestly, Sophie thought she was free of that, being easily swayed like a tree in the wind by her own heart. 

But fear still controlled her.

It made her do things she regretted. Things she hated herself for. 

An iron grip that she couldn't escape.

The worst part about the entire situation was that Linh was silent. If there was one thing Sophie knew, it was that she was shit at reading body language. And seeing that that was the only thing she currently had to gauge Linh's reaction, Sophie was at a loss.

"What the fuck," Linh finally said, staring at the wood like she hoped it would help her. 

Sophie wished it would too. "I’m sorry," she whispered.

"Let me get this straight," Linh sighed. "You watched my memories without my permission, listened in on conversations that I had. And when Amy tried to tell you not to, you didn't listen."

Sophie gulped, "Yup."

"I'm sorry."

It took at least a minute for the words to process. Linh- why was Linh sorry? Sophie was sure the confusion was clear on her face because Linh smiled sadly before speaking again.

"I never meant to lie to you. About coming here when I said that I had been at that road house the entire time. I wanted to tell you I just- I didn't want to think about it, how I pushed everyone away. And when I saw you I saw a fresh start, someone I could be someone else with and I wanted that. So I pretended I was fine. I’m sorry that you had to find out on your own."

Sophie chuckled dryly, “God, we’re both so fucked up.”

Linh laughed quietly. “Do you think,” she said, “that if we didn’t go through everything we did, if you stayed and I didn’t push you away, would we have worked?”

Sophie didn’t like to think about what could’ve happened, a side effect of losing so many friends.She remembered a time that with one word she would burn down the world for Linh. “I think we were doomed to fail,” Sophie said sadly. Because in the end, she loved the idea of Linh and not the girl herself.

Linh only nodded and they both ignored the tears in their eyes. Just walk away, she told herself. it’s time to go now, just walk away.

And Sophie tried, tried to peel herself off that porch, but no matter how hard she pulled she was stuck. Staring at the girl she thought she loved, tears blurring her vision, her head spinning like she was the sun. 

Sophie just wanted to hold Linh because even if she didn’t love her like she thought she did, she still loved her in some way.

Linh’s head turned, her normally bright eyes that could light up the world were dull. There was no light behind them, and Sophie was haunted by the fact that it was eerily similar to the face she wore in the memory of bruised hands Sophie had watched.

In that moment Sophie wanted to take it all back. Her hands itched to hold Linh, to tell her that she didn't do anything wrong, to comfort her. But Sophie had lost that, lost the privilege to hold her. The realization hit her then (though she might have always known) that she didn't love this girl in the beginning. But spending nights together, realizing who Linh was again, she believed she loved her like she had. It hurt a bit, but she’d known for a while that she had fallen again, but she couldn't take back what she did and that had to be okay. 

They stood there a while longer, tears staining both their cheeks, knowing eventually the moment would have to end. It was all gonna be over. It felt like leaving all over again and this time Sophie didn't have the strength to walk away—but Linh did. She left, pulling her hands away from the railing, leaving Sophie to stand in the slowly falling snow alone (she didn't know when it had started, or when the tears in her eyes were colder than normal, tasting like ice on her tongue). 

Eventually, the cold forced her back inside. She found Amy waiting on the couch in the 'Great Hall' (a.k.a. Living Room 2 out of three). There was a book in her hand that dropped as soon as Sophie wandered pitifully into her sister's line of sight.

"Hey," Amy whispered as Sophie put her head in her lap.

"Hi," Sophie responded.

"Hello?" Fitz spoke from the doorway, voice startling both of them.

Sophie still didn't move, barely glancing back at him to see his eyebrow raised. 

"Is she good?" Fitz asked.

"They broke up," Amy supplied when Sophie didn't give an answer.

"That explains why Tam's lookin’ like he's gonna commit murder." Sophie groaned in response, only burying her head further from view and into the blanket. She heard Fitz leave, expecting him to leave her with Amy in her misery only for his footsteps to come back. "Oh yes gimme," Amy said above her, hand leaving Sophie's hair. 

"Nope, it’s for the depressed dumbass." Sophie raised her head to see Fitz grinning. The next thing she knew she was lifted off of the couch, trying to hold onto something, only for Fitz to slip under her and throw her over him and Amy. "There you go, you cat," Fitz laughed and handed her a tub of ice cream. 

At some point the tub of ice cream would become empty, and at some point reality would come crashing down again and she would cry. In the arms of her sister and her best friend. At some point she would fall asleep to be woken up by a knock on the door. But right then she would grin, with Amy's hand in her hair and Fitz trying to decide what movie they should watch. Right then she would feel loved.

-

Someone was banging on the front door and Sophie was about two seconds from committing murder. It wasn't the knocks that had woken her up--no, it was that they meant Fitz was getting up, which meant he had to let go of her, which made her follow him around like a lost puppy because dammit he gave good cuddles.

Sophie honestly didn't give a shit about who was at the door, just waiting for Fitz to open it so that they could go back to the couch and Moana, which was currently paused. What she did not expect was Marella, Keefe, and Dex to be standing outside the door with suitcases and matching grins.

Sophie was too tired for this.

The grins faded as soon as Fitz and Keefe locked eyes and the tension in the room rose. 

"You're- you're here-" Fitz said, his face painted with surprise. 

"I brought friends," Keefe responded. 

"Hello," Marella and Dex greeted.

"Hi," Sophie responded from behind Fitz, who was still locked in a staring contest with Keefe.

Finally, Keefe's eyes moved from Fitz and he grinned again when he saw her, "To be honest I'm not surprised that you and Biana set this up. Need a family reunion after a few years?"

"Biana?" Fitz and Sophie asked in unison. Neither of them had seen her since they had left. It made some part of Sophie queasy to think that Biana was left alone to deal with the council. 

"Yeah? She sent us invites and plane tickets?" Marella spoke up, her eyebrows  knitted together. 

"I had no idea about those," Sophie said. "I haven't heard from Biana since I left. For all I know she's back in the Lost Cities."

"Actually-" a voice with a thick accent came from behind her. For a moment Sophie thought it was Fitz until a flash of light and long brown hair came into view on her left. "Hi," Biana grinned.

Five minutes later the Great Hall was packed with Sophie's friends who she thought she wouldn't see for at least another eight years. But here they were; Marella, Dex and Keefe crammed on a couch, Linh avoiding her eyes as she and Tam talked in hushed tones, Fitz anxiously opening and closing his hands next to her, and Amy and Biana talking in the middle of the room in harsh whispers.

Honestly? Sophie was done with the avoidance of the elephant in the room. "Are you guys going to explain what the hell is going on or?" Sophie finally asked, her exasperation clear. 

"WE'RE HERE!" came from the doorway, a clear answer to Sophie's question. Dex's face paled at the voice, clearly recognizing its owner.

"Biana, Amy," Dex started, staring at the girls in the center of the room with a look of pure terror on his face. "Why, in the Ancients names, are they here?" 

"Sup, bitch," Bex walked through the door, her lips pulled into a smug grin. 

Dex's head fell into his hands with a groan that only got longer when his other two siblings joined them. The triplets weren't all that surprising. Unexpected, until you took into the account that this was probably some elaborate prank that would most definitely have the triplets involved. 

The surprise, though, was the mop of curly brown hair and almost-purple eyes that walked in after them with a fond look of exasperation. Stina Heks was not someone who Sophie thought would be involved in this.

Tam shared her look of confusion, "Will somebody please tell us what the fuck is going on?"

That got a laugh out of the triplets and Amy, while Biana smiled and Stina looked bored. That wasn't much of a surprise, the bored face of Stina was one Sophie knew well (mostly from having to stare at it for hours during Valiant meetings, trying desperately for her to understand that she didn't have a choice to fight like she did). If anything, it was comforting to know she hadn't changed much.

"I don’t even know where to start," Biana said, and Amy laughed awkwardly.

"The beginning," Sophie deadpanned just wishing this would be over so that she could wallow in self pity in peace.

"Well..." Biana trailed off.

"This was a project to get your dumbasses together," Bex started.

Dex looked moderately distressed as he whispered, "Language", which only got an eye roll in response.

"We started it after you three left," Lex said pointing towards Marella, Dex and Keefe, who looked only mildly uncomfortable.

“Because all of you thought that the only way of coping was running away,” Rex finished. The room erupted in a cacophony of half finished excuses before Biana raised her hand, a pointed look on her face. 

“And that was fine! For a while,” she started. “I kept tabs on you to make sure y’all didn’t do anything stupid, until I realized what the heck was going on with Linh-“ 

“Oh great,” Linh growled every head swivling to her in surprise, “another person who doesn’t know how to respect some fucking privacy!” Linh had stood as she spose, anger clear on her face. A sharp pang of guilt found itself stabbing at Sophie’s heart.

“Please, I just wanted to look out for you-“

“Oh shut up. You were doing it so you could feel good about yourself picking up some goddamn charity cases!” With almost every word Linh took a step forward, getting into Biana’s space with a snarl. “Well guess what. I was doing fine until you fucked with my life.”

“Linh-“ Tam called after her as she stormed out of the room. With a sigh he looked back at all the stunned faces; most of them had never seen Linh angry. “I’m sorry, she’s just had a bad day. I’ll go talk to her,” he said before following her out. 

“Christ,” Marella murmured, watching the door. 

The feeling of guilt only grew bigger at that knowing that she was the reason for the outburst. That her stupid fucking instincts could’ve-

“Soph,” Fitz whispered. “Sophie, look at me.” 

She really really didn’t want to. But there was a soft urgency in his voice that made her look. “It’s not your fault, you came clean. How Linh deals with that is entirely up to her, okay?”

Sophie wanted to say that she shouldn't have done anything in the first place but stopped herself. She couldn't go down that rabbit hole, not then not ever. 

Biana sighed, and her shoulders seemed to drop before she started again. "I'm sorry for watching you guys, I tried to stay out of most things just making sure y’all didn't, like, go to jail or fuck up a government or something," she said slowly. 

"Bi," Fitz said, older brother instincts clearly kicking in, "it's okay. We tried to drop off the face of the earth-- we didn't exactly expect you to walk away unaffected."

Murmurs of agreement rang out through the room and slowly Biana’s hunched form seeped away to her normal stance. 

Amy picked up the story. “We realized that you guys weren’t getting better and that frankly the Lost Cities were getting worse.” 

“We might’ve not done it in the best way,” Lex said. “But you guys needed each other. All of you were hiding under facades with a false belief  that you were getting better and it was feeding into the idea to run away. So all we did was point you guys to each other, a little nudge to the right spot.” 

“Oh,” Fitz said next to Sophie as realization dawned on both of them.

“OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT!” Sophie said as soon as it all made sense. It was all planned! She wasn’t going crazy with paranoia (okay, maybe she was going slightly crazy, but that wasn’t the point)! 

All she got was raised eyebrows and a snort from Amy as a response to her outburst. 

“A little nudge?” Keefe asked. “You literally sent us a weird ass note with plane tickets and money so that we could be here—not very subtle of you.”

“Look, we were working off of what we had-“ Rex spoke, trying to hold in a laugh.

“Very cryptic, good job guys,” Marella laughed.

“Wait okay,” Sophie started. “Was Tam and Fitz ending up at Mari’s planned?”

Bex laughed and Amy grinned, “Nope! That woman just attracts strays somehow.”

Sophie and Fitz shared a knowing smile, remembering how she took them in with no hesitation. 

“One last question: why are you here?” Dex asked, gesturing to Stina.

“I’m moral support,” the girl answered with a shrug, and no one questioned it.

“Keefe- Keefe you can’t fall asleep. It’s only four pm,” Marella said suddenly, shaking the boy's shoulder slightly. 

“But I’m so fucking tired,” Keefe whined.

“Jet lag my beloathed,” Fitz chuckled, and Sophie felt it rumble through his body. 

“Okay sleepy heads,” Biana smiled, because no matter how hard Dex and Marella tried to pretend they weren’t tired their eyes were clearly dropping. "Go to bed, grab a room upstairs that isn't taken." 

"Dinner's at six!" Fitz called out after them and Sophie vaguely wondered if he would make one of Mari's recipes. 

Fitz did actually end up making one of Mari's recipes, a simple chicken and waffles with hashbrowns and bacon. An odd thing to have for dinner, but when it tasted heavenly who was gonna complain?  The smell carried through the house, dragging the occupants to the kitchen with growling stomachs.

Honestly, the sight was delicious and Sophie wanted nothing more than to just smack her face into it like an animal. It looked really good, okay? It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

It was not, Sophie found out as she basically devoured a chicken strip in one bite, only to find the others looking at her in bewilderment (except for Linh, who was ignoring her existence).

"Jeez, it’s like you have never eaten before," Biana laughed.

Sophie considered throwing a chicken strip at her but held back for the sake of keeping her food to herself.

Meaningless conversation started after that. A million and one questions about where they all ended up, how they got there, all that. It was all fine for a while, Sophie mostly tuning out conversations and trying oh so desperately to keep her eyes off of Linh (she was only moderately failing). It all started to go downhill when some not so subtle giggles erupted from what Sophie had dubbed as the childrens’ end of the table.

The next thing Sophie knew, Keefe was getting smacked in the face with a waffle.

Predictably, chaos broke out after the declaration of war. Sophie chucked a piece of chicken at who she thought was Biana only to be hit in the face with a handful of hashbrowns. Dex, Marella, and Keefe seemed to be teaming up against the triplets—who were absolutely wild. And then Fitz and Biana were on the other side of the table pelting her and Amy with whatever they could get their hands on, Linh was helping the triplets. Tam and Stina stood off to the side, presumably judging them but Sophie didn’t care because she knew that they didn’t hate them until—

A loud smack rang out.

Silence covered the room as everyone’s heads turned to Tam,who had a waffle slowly dripping down his face. In that moment, Keefe looked scared shitless. Slowly, Tam took the waffle off his face, grabbed the tray full of bacon and without hesitation launched it at Keefe with deadly accuracy. Marella was screaming “man down,” the triplets and Amy were cackling, Linh was grinning (Sophie forced herself not to look), and Sophie had never felt more content.

The fight came to an end as everyone’s exhaustion started to show. Giggling like madmen, the large group stumbled their way up the stairs to their respective rooms. Sophie, too tired to think and walking on autopilot, started to follow Linh like a lost puppy to their room. It was their room, right? 

A hand on her arm stopped her. 

The feeling of watching Linh leave, watching Linh yell, saying that she didn't think they would've ever worked, came crashing down on her. Knocking the wind out of her, making her choke. 

With a sad smile Amy dragged her back to their room, handing her pjs, getting her to the bathroom and holding her as she cried. They ended up on the stupidly large bed, Amy running a comforting hand through Sophie's too-long hair, as the moon rose, and the stars watched.

[rjhpandapaws]

Guess who's in desperate need of serotonin bb and an ask event is the perfect vessel.

Soooo HCH Connor. He tends to work nonstop. But WHAT IF. He's at work. He's at least most of the way through a shift... and they run out of literal spoons. And even the THOUGHT of the necessary restocking/washing/however they do things takes away his last metaphorical spoon.

How do we cope? Does he try to power through and give up? Does he just sit down behind the counter? Who's taking care of this beautiful mess- Tough-love North? Gentle giant Josh? Sweet baby Simon? Is it to busy to take care of The Boy, so they call in reinforcements????? Do tell

//I smell a ficlet!!!!

Connor had the habit of ignoring the small things until they stacked up too much to be ignored, in the figurative sense most of the time, but in the literal sense on occasion too. Like today for instance, they were short staffed, Simon was with him because North was sick and Josh was taking his exams to start teaching. Echo had classes so she couldn’t come in until the afternoon shift. All of that would have been fine, he’d worked doubles by himself before. The problem was that neither Echo or Ripple did dishes before closing yesterday so they were out of spoons and he had just gotten another breakfast order. Perks of morning shift he supposed. He apologized and gave the customer a to go set of silverware then made his way to the back. He could feel the panic rising in his chest and he didn’t know why, it was just a spoon. “Hey Simon?” He called into the kitchen, “Do you mind working the counter for bit?” “You hate working kitchen Connor why would you-” He stopped when he finally caught a look at Connor, apparently he wasn’t hiding his emotions well, “Yeah I can cover the front of the house. Let me know if you need to head home, and please don’t forget to take your break.” Connor gave a nod as Simon passed him because it was the best he could do, the sharp uneasy feeling had locked his hands to his side and cut off his voice. Social interaction was too much right now, and thankfully the blonde seemed to understand that. Once he had left he shut the service door to the kitchen and opened the order window instead to minimize their interactions. He was glad Simon hadn’t taken it personally.

It would pass, they always did. He just needed to keep busy, you couldn’t panic if you were too busy to think about it. There were no more food orders for now so he made his way to the sink to work on the dishes and get things restocked for the lunch rush and any other breakfast orders they might get in the mean time. He had a system, he washed the dishes first but in a particular order. Mugs were first because they were used the most often, then the plates and bowls, and lastly the silverware. He gave them scrubbing before he put them in the machine, to get the loose stuff off first and left the worst of it to the machine. It was cathartic most days. He was fine for a while, he even found the energy to turn the radio on for a while. He thought he was good, then he got to the silverware. Again, not normally that big of an issue, but today was an off day and the panic attack he had manage to shove into the recesses of his mind decided to come back with a vengeance. He managed to text Simon before he rushed out the back door.

RunawayArkait: Going to combine my fifteen and my lunch I need to take a breather, sorry.

The cafe was mostly quiet so Simon jumped when his phone chirped at him from its place beneath the cash register. He wasn’t usually in the habit of checking his phone at work, but since the place was as good as empty he checked it. He had a message from Connor, which was also unusual since Connor wasn’t in the habit of being on his phone unless he was on his break. Simon made his way back to the kitchen to see if he had missed Connor and found the brunette’s phone on the counter, apparently he had just messaged Simon and then took off. He was going to need help. Most of their coworkers were unavailable. That left his brothers and Hank. He didn’t know what Silas was up to, but Richard had come in earlier which meant he had classes. He wasn’t even sure if Connor wanted help to begin with, he was pretty closed off when it came to these kinds of things. He tapped at his chin and settled for messaging Richard.

SimonSays: Where does Connor go when he’s having a bad time? UnluckyNine: Back to his apartment usually, why? SimonSays: I think he’s having a panic attack but he left here pretty quickly. UnluckyNine: Okay, use his phone to text Hank, send the message Spoons. He’ll know what’s up. UnluckyNine: He’ll be in good hands don’t worry.

Simon wasn’t so sure about using Connor’s phone, it felt a bit like he was butting in, but he wanted to help Connor and this seemed like the best way to do it. He picked up the phone and swiped the lock pattern from memory. It turned out that Hank was the last person Connor had messaged. Simon let out a breath and opened the messages taking care not to read them and typed out two messages to Hank.

Connor: Spoons Connor: This is Simon Hank <3: Is he at the cafe with you? Connor: No. Richard said he might be at his apartment. Connor: I need to get back to work, sorry to message and run Hank <3: You’re good kid, I’ll bring him back once he calms down.

Simon set the phone back down on the counter and headed back to the front of the cafe. There wasn’t anyone waiting to order so he go to work tidying things up just in case someone came in. Connor had all but run to his apartment, it got him a few weird looks but he needed to get out. He needed to talk to Hank. He still had his work apron on and checked the pockets for his phone, it wasn’t there. He checked his pants pockets next and came away with nothing. He used the spare key to get into his apartment and made it as far as the couch. He fell back onto it and let the flood gates open. He hoped crying would be enough, it probably wouldn’t do anything to the guilt he felt for abandoning Simon at work when they were already short staffed, but he could bury that once he was feeling better. He was caught up enough he didn’t hear the door to his apartment open, but he snapped out of it when he felt the couch dip beside him. He didn’t get a chance to stand, he was pulled against a familiar broad chest. He relaxed and let out a wet sigh. Of course someone would have messaged Hank, their friendship wasn’t much of a secret anymore. “Hey Con, let it out. You’re not alone, I’ve got you.” Hearing the familiar rumble of Hank’s voice was soothing. He’d only been planning to call Hank but this was better. He turned his head and pressed his face into Hank’s sternum. He smeared tears an some less pleasant things onto the professor’s shirt, but he could be sorry about that later, “I’m sorry.”

Hank laughed, “Why?” “I’m crying over spoons. Its so dumb.” He admitted, not looking up at Hank. “You ran out of spoons, it happens sometimes. That’s the whole point of that message.” Hank replied rubbing a hand down Connor’s back, “That’s nothing to be sorry for Connor.” “No I mean like actual spoons. We ran out at work.” Connor corrected. Hank was quiet for a long moment, and Connor was relatively sure that he was trying not to laugh. He picked up his head to risk a look and he found Hank looking down at him with his eyes steeped in concern. “I’m sure its more than that. If you would like to talk about it of course.” Hank continued rubbing his back and Connor sighed. “The nursing program is harder than I thought it would be and I’ve had to cut back on my work hours so I don’t fall behind.” Connor started, unable to stop himself now that he had started, “I feel guilty for that because Josh has put in his notice to take his exams and start student teaching and North is sick so we’re already down two people. Then either Echo or Ripple forgot to do dishes before closing last night so we ran out of actual spoons during the morning rush, which caused me to run out of metaphorical spoons. And here we are.” “It sounds like you could use a day to yourse-” “I can’t take one.” Connor cut him off, “That would leave Simon on his own. We are the only two available to work mornings.” Hank sighed, “I have a forty-five minute timer set on my phone, we aren’t talking about work until it goes off okay.” Hank said in a way that left no room for argument, “Take a breather then I’ll take you back to the cafe.” “Okay.” Connor relented. Leave it to Simon to send for the damn cavalry.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

[specterchasing-a]

Hold On (Part 2) || Eddie & Alfie

TIMING: One month ago, directly after part one.

LOCATION: En route to the woods.

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: Alfie and Eddie have a heart-to-heart in the car.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia tw

Eddie mindfully secured his filming equipment in the trunk of Alfie’s odiously yellow station wagon. As he took a step back to close the hatch, an idea occurred to him. He hastily ducked back into the trunk and unzipped his bag to pilfer for his camera. Now satisfied, Eddie slammed the door shut and walked briskly to the car’s passenger-side. The moment he settled into his seat, a pronounced frown settled into his features.

“When are you gonna get your AC fixed?” Eddie implored, his gaze settling on his chaperone. “Every time I get in this car, it feels like the air’s been replaced by uncomfortably warm dog breath.” He refrained from adding that it smelled like it as well. Alfie didn’t need to be subjected to verbal beration of that magnitude after agreeing to accompany him tonight.

While Eddie packed his gear into the back, Alfie hopped into the driver’s seat, helplessly turning the ignition repeatedly until the engine sputtered to life. Immediately, he was hit with a blast of cold air before the air conditioning unit forgot how to work. The ration of cool air was quickly replaced with a suffocatingly stale breeze. Alfie stretched over to unlock the passenger door and cranked the window open before rolling his own window down to allow a more comfortable airflow. Soon enough, Eddie was in the seat beside him.

A laugh reverberated in his chest at Eddie’s comment. “What do you mean?” Alfie asked, emphatically waving his hand at the dashboard. “It’s doing its best. Besides, parts are hard to come by.” That’s what he got for being cheap. What he needed was a new car altogether, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. The wagon got him from point A to B; that would have to be enough. It wasn’t like he needed a functioning air conditioner anyway, not that Eddie was privy as to why. “We can always take yours,” he offered with a small smirk.

“I hate to break it to you, but its best doesn’t cut it. It needs to do another car’s best,” Eddie riffed while opening the viewer on his camera. With the press of a button, it became a diligent archivist of its owner’s per view. Without warning, Eddie lifted the device to eye-level and pointed it in Alfie’s direction. He knew well and good his friend didn’t enjoy being in the crosshairs of his filming, but that never stopped him in the past. Why would it deter him now?

“Trust me, I would love to take the Mini, but it’s… well, mini, and you know that. As quirky as your car is, it has better storage options.” Eddie’s voice lacked interest—he found himself too caught-up in recording to have any to spare. “You have a nice profile, have I said that before?” he asked, slipping further into his seat as he rested his feet on the dashboard. Meanwhile, his eyes (and camera) remained fixated on Alfie.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Alfie chuckled as he shifted the car into reverse and eased out of his parking space. With his eyes now fixed on the path ahead, Alfie didn’t notice the camera focused on him. “You really should have considered that when you bought it. What would you do if I ever wasn’t around to lend my cargo space?”

The compliment that soon fell from Eddie’s lips made Alfie’s brow raise. His eyes flickered to look at Eddie, only to find that he was being filmed. “Wha— Christ’s sake, Eddie, would you turn that thing off?” A fire rose in his cheeks, coloring them a vibrant red. He quickly turned his head away, but was unable to avoid the camera’s watching eye. Damn it. He hated being recorded; Eddie knew that. “Or, I’unno… turn it somewhere else, at least?”

As the car reached the edge of the parking lot, Alfie applied the brakes and looked back at Eddie, the blush still prominent on his face. “And buckle,” he scolded — albeit playfully — with raised eyebrows. “Seriously, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Die, probably,” Eddie deadpanned. If he were to make an effort, his car could likely hold whatever necessities he needed it to. Alfie probably knew that, too. However, if he went that route, he wouldn’t be able to spend his time being a nuisance in the passenger’s seat. He much preferred reclining and filming to focusing on the road. A miracle happened the day he got his license, that much was certain.

Alfie’s reaction to being caught on candid camera inspired an impish grin from Eddie. He noticed the change of color in his cheeks—so did his heart, actually. It drummed desperately within his chest, as if also begging Eddie to rethink staring at Alfie for so long. Unfortunately, he rarely listened to what either of them had to say. “I can’t believe you hate art so much that you’d deprive me of my muse,” he said.

Eddie rolled his eyes, also playfully, when Alfie scolded him. “Not today,” he answered before he quickly switched his camera off and buckled in like he was told.

Deprived of his main source of entertainment, Eddie resorted to turning on the radio. Like everything else in Alfie’s car, the display refused to work properly. What should have been words and numbers looked more like hieroglyphs. Eddie briefly toggled through stations before a familiar tune (‘Hold On’ by Wilson Phillips) caused him to turn the radio off with evident disdain. 

A strange sensation tugged behind Alfie's navel at the suggestion that Eddie would die without him. It wasn't true, of course. With any luck, Eddie would go on fine without him; he had to. Still, the thought made him feel… guilty? Alfie's time in this life was growing increasingly limited. He couldn't afford to think about it now. It would only make the time he did have left with Eddie less worthwhile, for fear of causing him any grief. 

"Your muse?" Alfie nearly cooed. "Please—" his voice cracked. "I have complete faith that you'll find something better." Once again unable to make eye-contact with Eddie today, Alfie shook his head with a breathy chuckle and rolled his eyes. His attention was back on the road and as the seat belt beside him clicked into place, assuring Eddie's safety, Alfie merged onto the street to begin their journey.

It didn't take long for Eddie to begin fidgeting. He knew well enough by now that finding a suitable radio station in the station wagon was unlikely. Alfie wouldn't complain about the music as long as it kept the camera off him. But when Eddie abruptly cut the radio off, he successfully piqued Alfie's curiosity. 

"What was that about?" he asked, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes darting between Eddie and the road. "You trying to tell me you hate Wilson Phillips or something? And you were just getting onto me about hating art," Alfie teased.

Alfie’s insistence that Eddie would eventually move on to something better almost made him laugh. For years, his thoughts revolved around his reclusive neighbor and not much else. Alfie and Youtube; that’s what filled his days since he moved downtown. “No, I won’t,” he gently corrected him. “Besides, I don’t want to.” It didn’t worry him to voice his genuine fondness for Alfie, not when they had years of friendship behind them. At this point, it would’ve been more alarming if he didn’t love the guy enough to negate his self-deprecation.

“Wilson Phillips is not art.” Eddie emphatically pointed a finger at Alfie. “Not that song, at least. ‘Hold On’ is trite and cheap. And, all it does is make me think about the time I spent in group therapy as a teenager when our counselor insisted on performing an acoustic version at the end of every single session. Every session, Alfie,” he looked at his chauffeur with bewildered eyes. “She even made eye contact with us while she sang—who does that? I never felt like I could look away, not when she was tearfully pleading with me to break free from the chains. It was torture. Wilson Phillips is torture, not art.”

Alfie didn't want to argue about how quickly Eddie would (or wouldn't) move on. No matter how much Eddie didn't want to, there would come a point that he would have no other option. Besides, Alfie playing the part of Eddie's muse was clearly a joke. Or, perhaps more accurately, a metaphor for their friendship. All that mattered was Eddie had not meant it in a literal sense. So why had he allowed himself to become so flustered over it?

"Bullshit!" squawked Alfie, who was now fully prepared to enlighten Eddie about his previous love affair with the early 90s pop scene. Before he had a chance to share however, Eddie shared his own history with the song. Alfie's jaw slackened and he shot Eddie an incredulous look. "Every session?" he parroted in disbelief. His face scrunched as he imagined what kind of hellscape that must have been. Being forced to listen to acoustic covers was bad enough, but on top of awkward eye-contact? 

"Okay, yeah… no. I see your point," Alfie softly spoke after a moment. "Who in their right mind thought she was still fit to be a counselor after the first time that happened, anyway? Like — I'unno, you'd think someone would've had to question her capability or whatever at that point." 

"Still," he continued after making a point to showcase his disapproval with a series of disdainful facial expressions. "I stand by what I said. I think there's something beautiful in wanting to turn around and say goodbye — much like how you must have felt after being subjected to that special brand of hell."

Eddie adopted a tight-lipped grin when Alfie conceded. “Every session,” he confirmed. Looking back, he couldn’t remember liking anything about group therapy. Owning up to his issues should’ve never been something that required an audience. As extroverted as Eddie could be, he kept his cards close to his chest when it came to his emotions. Alfie knew him better than anyone else and even he didn’t get the whole truth half the time.

Eddie let out a terse laugh at Alfie’s final comment. “Real cute,” he snarked playfully before his expression became more serious. “It didn’t help that I hated therapy in general. Not only did it well and truly suck to talk about my feelings, but the only reason my parents even made me go was the whole… ghost-vision deal.” Eddie emphasized his annoyance by accompanying the tail-end of his sentence with a flippant flap of his hand. “Funny, that they pegged the one thing that made me happy as the problem.” His brow raised as he pursed his lips.

“But, uh, wow—sorry about the impromptu sharetime,” Eddie said when shame began to collect in chest. “Don’t mind me complaining about therapy while simultaneously making you my therapist.” He hoped levity would be the cure for oversharing.

Alfie’s face lit up at Eddie’s initial response. “I’m the cutest, obviously,” he chided with a lopsided grin. He couldn’t recall any previous conversations about Eddie’s group therapy, but he was well aware of his friend’s relationship to his parents. Maybe he had mentioned it before; it was truly a testament to how solid Alfie’s active listening skills were. “Fuck your parents!” his voice trilled. “Seriously — when have they ever cared about your happiness?” His commiseration was probably unnecessary; Eddie didn’t need another reminder that his family were awful. “Sorry… too far,” he added with a small frown. 

With a clear road ahead, Alfie lifted a hand from the steering wheel and maneuvered it around to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, man, don’t sweat it — really. I will gladly take an impromptu sharetime over an awkwardly silent drive to our inevitable doom.” His gaze shifted to Eddie as he gave him an apologetic smile, allowing his hand to linger a bit longer than was probably acceptable. “Besides,” Alfie added, gently squeezing Eddie’s shoulder before returning his hand to the wheel, “that’s what friends are for, right?” 

It wasn’t often that Alfie referred to them as “friends”. The word was scattered few and far between, but that didn’t make it any less true. “From now on, that song is banned. We don’t talk about it. We don’t listen to it. It’s purged from our lives. What song? Wilson Phillips, who? Never heard of ‘em!” Alfie tilted his head in Eddie’s direction and peered at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of positive reaction to ensure he’d sufficed at making his friend feel better. 

Eddie glanced at Alfie in surprised amusement after his initial outburst. “You’re right and you should say it,” he encouraged in a light-hearted tone that didn’t fit the topic. If he didn’t try to lessen the weight of the conversation, he might have to admit to how much it hurt to discuss. He couldn’t risk letting Alfie know the extent of his damage. 

When Alfie’s hand landed on his shoulder, Eddie felt a lump form in his throat. Usually, he initiated whatever physical contact they shared. He didn’t know how to react to being on the receiving end. Alfie’s mention of ‘inevitable doom’ managed to ease his uncertainty. Eddie replied with a soft huff of laughter, his eyes shining with fondness.

Soon enough, Alfie deprived Eddie of his hand, but didn’t give him much time to be upset about it. He called them friends. “Oh, is that what we are?” Eddie asked with a teasing grin. “Could’ve sworn our relationship was more like whatever Bugs and Elmer had going on.” His expression softened, though his grin remained throughout Alfie’s condemnation of Wilson Phillips.

“You’re…. You’re a really good guy, Alfie,” Eddie said. “Thanks for humoring me tonight.”

It didn’t seem appropriate to continue down the path of shit-talking Eddie’s parents, no matter how much they deserved it. Eddie didn’t enlist Alfie on this adventure just to talk about all of his woes. If he was going to do this, then goddamn it, he was going to make the best out of it. Eddie deserved that much. “‘Course we’re friends,” Alfie returned with a playful sneer. “Though, I think you’re way off base with that one. If anything, we’re more like Bugs and Daffy.” His eyes focused on the road, but his mind was lost in thought. “Actually—” Alfie corrected, “come to think of it, that’s really fuckin’ accurate. Just, y’know, don’t ask me who’s who.”

In an instant, Alfie’s eyes were back on Eddie. Immense guilt crept over him for trying to turn down the invitation in the first place. It was glaringly obvious that Eddie was trying to involve him in his life; something Alfie tried to avoid with just about everyone who did. His heart ached. He didn’t want to refuse Eddie, truly. There just happened to be parts of his life that were better off private. But it wouldn’t kill him to hang out with the guy more every now and then. Well, given Eddie’s track record, it very well could. But it would be worth it… RIght?

“Listen, Ed… I know I’m a pain in the ass. It’s not — I don’t do things like this, y’know? I stay at home like the grumpy hermit crab that I am and that’s how I like it.” Apologies were never Alfie’s strong suit. It was rare that the words “I’m sorry” ever made it out of his mouth. “But I’m already pretty glad I came with you.” Once again, he was dancing the conversation dangerously close to heavy. Alfie mentally berated himself; he needed to keep things light. “But if we make it out alive, you do still owe me those Baby Ruths,” he teased, lightly nudging Eddie’s arm with his own.

[det-nicoletterogers]

I saw [NICOLETTE ROGERS] at a coffee shop in [BROOKLYN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [BRIE LARSON]. They are a [TWENTY-NINE] year old [DETECTIVE] who’s been in NYC for [TWO YEARS] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [LOYAL AND FIESTY] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [IMPLUSIVE AND SNARKY]. [LIPSTICK WONDER WOMAN BY TYLER BRYANT AND THE SHAKEDOWN] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.

hi all! i am so so so excited to be here! my name is nika and this is my sweetie pie wrapped in a cactus shell, nic rogers (though if she ever heard me call her a sweetie pie i’d be dead). you can check below for a lot more information about her but i would love any and all plots. she has some listed below as well but we can get creative! feel free to message me or hit me up on discord at ichoosenikachu#4859. see ya soon (or not, its ok either way.....) :) 

(tw: death, gun violence, parent leaving/broken home)

B A C K S T O R Y

born & raised in good ol’ chi town–never left, at least not for long. loves it here immensely, couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. mom was a clerk at a local publishing house and dad worked in construction after he finished his tour of duty as an army man. her older brother was a detective in the chicago police department, but more on him later.

mother ran out on the family when nic was eight for her boss, head of the publishing company that she worked for. didn’t even bother to say goodbye–just up and left without a word. her dad was heartbroken and left to support his two kids alone, something he was not prepared for.

see, her dad always wanted sons not daughters, so nic’s surprise arrival was nothing short of a nightmare for him. of course he loved his daughter, but he didn’t have any sisters of his own and had never grown up around women. so he kind of, pushed her into more stereotypical masculine things, as a way for him to not have to worry about raising her any differently. sure there were moments of pure panic for him (hello, time of the month) but he seemed to be pleased with himself.

meanwhile, nic could tell that she was definitely the least favorite child. her brother was always the golden boy and her father spend exponentially more time with him than he ever did with her. however, that didn’t mean that her brother and her didn’t have a good relationship.

nic was often teased growing up because she didn’t have a mom and came from a lower ses part of town. so her brother became her closest friend and she adored him. she looked up to him, tried to be like him. she thought she might get her father to love her if she succeeded.

but the difference was that everyone liked her brother–he was calm, organized and confident. nic, on the other hand, was plucky and sassy and seemed to crave chaos in a way her brother never did. she wouldn’t ever be like him, and it kind of broke her heart to know her father would never be proud of her. so she did her own thing, made a life for herself that wasn’t always emulating her older brother. she was determined to get her life right, the way she was convinced her dad hadn’t.

however, she and her brother were still very close and they’d often have a meal together at least once a week. he’d regale her with stories of his time at the department, and she–working as a beat cop on a completely different schedule–enjoyed giving him a hard time about what he could have or should have done. it was a rather happy time in her life–one she enjoyed for many reasons.

(tw: death, gun violence) but, y’know, life isn’t happy for long. on a cool spring evening, her brother was walking home from weekly dinner with nic. he had taken a longer route than usual because he wanted to enjoy the finally warmer air of the city. as he made his way home, he heard rustling in an alleyway and assumed it as a cat stuck in a cardboard box–turns out it as not, and with a flash of light and a louder bang, her brother was no longer with us.

when nic found out, she was distraught. broken. her whole world felt shattered and the person she needed the most–her husband–had decided to go off and sleep with some other woman, leaving her even more devastated. so nic’s life had kinda crashed and burned in one fell swoop.

the only reasonable thing to do is, of course, honor her brother by becoming a detective in the CPD…except her father is none too pleased with this idea and, in one of their famous fights, tells her that “girls can’t do that job.” turns out, that is not what you say to a stubborn, grieving woman because that just makes her do it more. truly though, her father was just terrified he’d lose her too but once again, he wasn’t good with his emotions and couldn’t express that.

so nic became detective nicolette rogers to honor her brother…and to see if she couldn’t solve the mystery of her brother’s passing, finally avenging him. her new role gave her the separation she needed from the pain of both losing her brother and husband and, perhaps for the first time in her life, finally fit.

H E A D C A N N O N S

important note: nicolette never goes by her full name–it’s nic or anything else, but never, ever nicolette.

she is the biggest fan of chicago sports–catch her cheering for the cubbies all day long. and don’t forget da bears.

her last meal would include: a chicago dog from wrigley field with a baja blast and white cheddar popcorn. and probably a slice of cheesecake for desert.

nic loves helping people–it is why she originally started working in the police force to begin with. even now, as a detective, she goes does the youth education program, going into schools and doing workshops for the students in the local school districts (think detective jj bittenbinder but…significantly less creepy).

her favorite show is–yes, cliche but she’s ok with that–brooklyn 99 and she absolutely adores amy santiago.

she rides a motorbike mostly because she likes the wind waving in her hair.

but don’t get her confused–she’s the biggest dork you’ll ever met, loves people and adores babies, and will help literally anyone who asks. her hearts a little…shredded at the moment but she does her best to be good.

P L O T S

Best/Close Friends

Childhood Friends

Police Force Buds

Police Force…Enemies????

Flings

idk im always down for plots leggo

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hello good morning and welcome to chili's- is that even the right reference? Whatever. Anyways, welcome to 'auri can't stop fucking writing about party poison and cherri cola' hours. They have such a fascinating bond ANYWAYS also welcome to a fucking trainwreck that i wrote all this morning.

Title: everybody wants to change the world

Wordcount: 2047

Summary:

Party Poison goes out, gets hurt, and chooses a different place for help than they usually would.

This has literally no plot beyond me making Poison have a bad time.

Warnings: injury, blood, death mentions.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison swore under their breath as they staggered back to the Trans Am, pressing a hand to their side. They were going to fucking bleed out here, outside a Mad Gear concert in Zone 4, all because they were a fucking dumbass and got themself stabbed. Because Poison could never live quietly, they didn't know how. All they knew was picking fights with random 'joys and listening to the music that blared from the speakers, way too loud and easily drowning out their thoughts. Now that was catching up to them, they guessed, as they slid into the car and put their bloody hand on the wheel.

"Home we go, baby."

No. Not home. Kobra had said, Kobra had told them 'don't go out and get hurt again, don't go picking fights, dumbass'. And Poison had gone and done it anyways. Gone and been a fucking idiot, as Kobes would say. So no, they were not going back to the diner yet. Not bleeding this heavily, anyways. The Girl didn't deserve to see this, nor did she deserve to watch them and Kobra fight about it.

That left Poison with the question of where, exactly, they were going to go. There weren't a lot of people in the world they trusted to see them like this, injured and exhausted and close to crying because it all hurt, it always had. In fact, most of those people, four of them, lived in the old diner where they couldn't -wouldn't- go. Most of those people...but not all of them.

Poison turned the Trans Am to a different path, speeding towards a little radio shack in the middle of the desert. If nothing else, they knew Dr. D would be happy to fix them up and send them on their way again, and then they could head back to diner late at night when no one was awake and no one would need to know they had gotten stabbed like a dumbass.

Unluckily for them, it was one in the fucking morning, and Dr. D was soundly asleep when they stumbled into the station. They assumed, at least, given that he was nowhere to be seen and the radio station was quiet. Empty, in fact. Or at least the living room was. Poison stumbled towards the broadcasting room, hearing a low voice from that direction.

Cherri Cola looked up they stumbled in the door, pausing in the middle of reading off a poem. "Poison?"

"Pepsi! I got stabbed." Poison tried to grin at him, the smile turning into a grimace at the pain in their side.

Cherri stared at them for a few moments, then turned back to the broadcast. "Well, WKIL listeners, I'm afraid this where I leave you for tonight, given that we've got a bit of a situation going on, but I should be back for later this night- well, this morning, technically, I'd say we're coming up on one am now. Cherri Cola, signing off." He turned back to Poison with a sigh. "Where did you get stabbed?"

They tried not to be offended at his huff. "Here. Where my hand is."

Cherri stood, gesturing to them to follow him back to the living room area, where he grabbed a first aid kit. "Lay down on the sofa, that much blood means I probably need to stitch you up."

"Great."

"I'm going to peel back your shirt, okay? Only as far as I need to clean and stitch it," Cherri promised.

Poison shrugged, pulling their jacket off before they laid down. "Do what y'have to."

His hands were scarred and calloused, the skin rough, but he was gentle when he pulled the bloody fabric away and started cleaning out the wound. They gasped in pain anyways, gritting their teeth as their side sent flickers of agony running through them.

"Sorry, sorry," Cherri said quietly. "I promise only a bit more to go, I just need to stitch this."

Poison nearly screamed when he started the first stitch, letting out a strangled yelp instead. "How much longer?"

"Three more stitches, then I'm done."

They gritted their teeth again, clenching their fists by their sides as he tied off the next stitch, and the next, and the next.

"Okay, done." Cherri set the needle aside, closing the first aid kit. "You okay?"

Poison would have laughed if they weren't in so much pain. "Of course 'm not fucking okay. Why would I be fucking okay?"

They hated the pity on his face as he gently scooted them over to sit down next to them. "Silly question, I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

Poison could have been dignified, but they chose to lean against him instead as the feelings they had been bottling up came pouring out. "Everything. Everything is wrong because Kobes is always angry and Jet's always sad and Ghoul's scared and Motorbaby shouldn't have to grow up here, shouldn't have to see us fall apart. What's the point? What's the point, Cola? What are we fighting for? Is there even a future ahead of us? What's even the point of life?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"There isn't a point." Poison gaped at him. "There isn't a point to life, not unless you make one. You have to decide what you want, what's worth fighting for."

The words fell softly into the quiet of the radio station, shattered by Poison's harsh voice. "And how the fuck am I supposed t' do that?"

"It's hard to describe, but..." Cherri trailed off. "Find what means something to you. What you love. For me that's poetry, and Newsie, and D and Pone and you and your crew, and the stars. Also, Mad Gear, they're vastly superior to Benny and the Trampolines."

Poison managed a small laugh. "True that. But what is the point, to you?"

“Well, in the simplest form...the point of life is happiness.”

“I thought the point of my life was to change the world,” they muttered bitterly. Maybe it made them an asshole, maybe the other was trying to help, but it was their fucking job to change things and they were tired of it.

Cherri’s voice was heartbreakingly gentle. “It doesn’t matter how big of a difference you made to the world. All that matters is that you made a different to you.”

Poison found that their eyes were stinging, tears collecting in them. “Are you sure?” Their voice sounded small and pathetic, and they hated it.

“I’m sure. You deserve happiness, more than anything else. It should never be your job to save the world, not so young. Never.”

They tried to speak again, but all that came out was a shuddering, gasping sob. Some small part of them was embarrassed, mortified to be crying in front of Cherri Cola, of all people, but the bigger part of their mind couldn’t bring themself to care. Not when their heart ached more than the wound in their side, not when Cherri was holding his arms out silently, clearly an offer.

Maybe it made them weak, but Poison took the comfort, letting themself be encased safely in the older killjoy’s arms. “I don’t want to die, Cola.” They hated how their voice shook. “I don’t want to die.”

“I know. I know.”

“I want to save everyone, I want to make a difference.” They let out another sob. “But I don’t want to die.”

“Your life should never be the price,” Cherri murmured.

“But it is. But it is! I have to- I’m going to die ch- changing the world. I’m supposed to- to save everyone, even if I have to d-die to do it.”

Poison thought they heard his usually unshakable voice waver a little. “No, Poison, no. This never should have been your job."

"Well who- who was g- going to do it?"

They couldn't see his face, but his voice was very quiet. "It was supposed to be D and I, years and years ago. Me, and D, and Lily. It shouldn't have even been Newsie and Chimp, shouldn't have been Pony, definitely shouldn't have been you. I'm sorry, Poison."

"'s okay." They found themself curling up further, head leaning on his shoulder. "Who's Lily?"

"White Lily, leader of the first rebellion, said to be one of the first of the killjoys," Cherri murmured. "Giver of plastic flower hairclips, the only person who was allowed to call Newsie 'News', and one of my three siblings. In a way."

"Oh." Another sob made its way out of their throat, but this mysterious 'Lily' was a good distraction. "Tell me about her?"

"Well, the day I met her, she was twenty-one and she asked me 'Did this softy offer you a place to stay?'..." Cherri launched into a quiet story about two kind killjoys who offered a desperate sixteen-year-old the first real home he had ever known. His voice was low, soothing, and Poison let themself relax a little bit as they listened to the story.

"D' you have any more stories about 'your day'?"

"I think I have some poems about it, actually," Cherri replied dryly. "Stories, yes, but also poems, which are easier."

"Not easier to understand," Poison muttered, but they let him half carry them back into the broadcast room and proceeded to drape themself over his lap when he started up again.

"Hello there, my late-night crash queen friends, it's me, Cherri Cola, back again. At the request of my companion, the next few poems of the corner will be about the olden days, back before you rock and rollers were out on the road." He started on a poem which Poison thought must have been about Dr. D, plenty of metaphors about the voice of the desert. After that one and one more was finished, he switched on some music and turned back to them.

"When is your crew expecting you home?"

"Don't know. Concert was over at midnight, but they know I sometimes stay out later. For all I know, they all went to bed."

"I'm going to radio the diner, if that's okay?"

"Don't want them t' know I got hurt." Their words were mashed up more from sleepiness than blood loss by now.

"I'll say you got lost." Cherri's tone was joking, but his voice grew serious again as he went on. "Or I'll just say you're staying here tonight, you don't owe them an explanation of why. You do owe it to them to make sure they aren't worried for you, though."

"Okay." They felt rather schooled, staring down at the perpetually dirty floor of the radio station as Cherri fiddled with the radio.

Eventually, Fun Ghoul picked up, sounding sleepy. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ghoul."

"What is it, Cola? You got word of Party?"

"They decided to drop by after the concert, so we're hanging out tonight. They'll be okay, just too tired to drive the Am safely. I'll send them back tomorrow morning by the time you need the Trans Am for anything, but please tell the others not to worry."

"Gotcha. Motorbaby got sleepy, took Jet and Kobra to get her to sleep 'cause Pois is out, then they conked out. I told them to. But if they wake up, I'll tell them, and I won't worry toooo much. Tell Pois I said hi!"

Poison was incredibly thankful Ghoul had picked up instead of one of the other two, since xe wasn't the sort to ask many questions. Kobra would have been suspicious, and Jet would have been pretty decent about it but concerned. And Poison didn't need those two's concern right now.

"Right, well, sleep well, Ghoul. Pois says hi," Cherri said. That was technically a lie, since Poison hadn't said anything, but they didn't really mind. Ghoul deserved some reassurance, even if it was false.

Cherri clicked the radio off. "Right, my stabbed friend. I've got some more broadcasting to do, but you're welcome to stay."

"You're an insufferable bastard," Poison yawned.

"Yes, I am. Sleep well, Sleepy Poison."

Poison had absolutely not intended in any way, shape, or form to fall asleep on Cherri's lap, but they found themself yawning again as he started on another poem. And before they or he had a chance to say goodnight, they were out like a light.

[borisbubbles]

17. CZECH REPUBLIC

Benny Christo - “Kemama”

So first off, thank you for the nice commens. 😇The past few months haven’t been the happiest time for me, so thank you for your patience as I scraped my bearings together for another post! 😁

So I will now extend that same sympathy to Benny Christo, whom I think I damn fucking underrated. Let’s jump in~

ENTRY ANALYSIS

As one may expect i INSTANTLY liked “Kemama” because you know, it’s a fun, laid-back, tropical afro-breeze, completely different from anything else we would see in NFs and the year. EXACTLY the type of song I was hoping the Czech NF would deliver (and deliver they did, see NF Corner). This level of mild like swung into strong unironic like upon realizing that the title is a contraction of “Okay Mother” 😍 and the song deals with the subject of overcoming racially-tinged discrimination and rising above the hate. That just feels very poetic and apt? “Kemama” felt like the entry that had to overcome the highest odds in order to earn the respect it so fully deserves, and still hasn’t fully reached it.

.In our Western European bubble, comprised mostly of gays and left-liberal straights, we have a very grateful and universal acceptance of many different kinds of [lizard] people that make up Eurovision casts. Yet with “Kemama” we may have reached  an unusually grimy undercurrent of coded racism. 

Of course nothing I read was outrageously rancid, than Cod for that. The worst statement I read was a double-whammy of “EWW THIS ISN’T CARIBBEANVISION” and “WHY WOULD SOMEONE FROM *KENYA* WANT TO REP CZECHIA IN EUROVISION?”, and yes they first got the continent wrong and then *also* got the country wrong in the follow-up post and then they were torn limb from limb by a pack of aformentioned left-liberals. I’m sorry but i can’t not have any other response than laughter in the face of yet another fucking MORON faceplanting themselves with words like a... racist JK Rowling if you will?

Still, while I never read something outright vile about Benny doesn’t mean I found his deniers really annoying and they were! Think “Ew Solovey is ‘Too Aggressive’ it will NEVER DO WELL IN ESC”, a statement that isn’t coded nor racist (and yet extremely false and misguided), functioned as a similar idea by the same minds. A statement borne from the same breed of narrow-minded stubbornness which has caused elitist morons to be all “there is **SOMETHING** about “Kemama” i do *NOT* like and I cannot lay my finger on it... but I **DO NOT** like it at ALL. It won’t ever qualify because everyone will think the same way I do” -- Eurovision snobs, tiptoeing around racial coda in January 2020.

 They would also insist that Benny was “arrogant” because he was seemingly impervious to their (de)constructive criticism. Like, if you were a biracial butterfly living in a slavic country who had to deal with statements such as the above on a regular basis, you WOULD block out the noise. And if you heard them often enough you will start to block them out pre-emptively. DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW COPING MECHANISMS WORK?? (oh wait you’re white-privileged. Nevermind 🙄)

 So naturally, when Benny decided that he would revamp “Okay Mother” by adding in MORE African elements it only made me love him even more lol. 😍 Was it a bull-headed, contrarian and possibly really stupid decision? Yes, yes and absolutely yes. Was it worth it? Well he managed to incite even more meltdowns in a group of people I feel nothing but contempt for, so hell yeah? Eurovision was cancelled anyway so who cares how much ‘worse’ “Kemama” actually got. 

Okay, so we’ve arrived at the revamp.

Granted, it wasn’t the best ‘vamp, I’d be a fool to deny it. The new elements threw a wrench in the melodic balance of the song. Out went tropical laid-back fun, IN went that fucking guitar oh my god this is some Hotel FM piano levels of overbearing I swear. (nb: this still didn’t stop me from ironically stanning Hotel FM’s lame asses anyway 😍). However, it made the personal backstory that I loved and savoured take a backseat to the now inferior composition. 😭

Regardless, New Kemama was fundamentally the same song, and I fundamentally liked Old Kemama, so whatevs, it made no different to me. In the eyes of many Eurovision diehards we were experiencing WORST PRESHOW SEASON EVER (after three songs... lol) and nothing clinches this brainworm more than a revamp announcement. “OH MY GOD HE WILL RUIN IT! I CAN GUARANTEE YOU I *WON’T* LIKE IT”. Self-fulfilling prophecies, ya know? It certainly didn’t help when the official channel accidentally uploaded a vid with broken soundmixing (‘OMG HORRIBLE LAST IN THE SEMI!!!!’ calm the ever-loving HELL down) and took another FULL WEEK to upload the correct vid. The damage had already been done. Typing "SEE I TOLD YOU THE REVAMP WOULD BE SHITE HA HA HA” in the Kemama comment box really just is the ESC equivalent of reponding with “Actually, *all* lives matter :smug:” to a BLM support pamphlet, isn’t it?

NF CORNER

While not my favourite NF of the bunch, I found the Czech NF to be lowkey epic. Not epic enough to remember its name but regardless Czechvision or whatever marked the end of an era because it was also the last selection spearheaded by Jan Bors :o

I think I’ve made it clear enough in the past that I’m somewhat mixed on Bors Era Czechia - Lake Malawi were a toetapping good, Ickolas was a pockmarked, skin-crawling evil and the other three inhibit a purgatory somewhere between “moderately nice” and “moderate timewaste.”

Still, I have great respect for the man who orchestrated Czech’s comeback after scoring NINE POINTS TOTAL across three years with the mindset of “So what? Why says we can’t win?” so ofc I was all into the idea of the “EIGHT INDIE ANGELS, HAND-PICKED BY BORS HIMSELF” NF that would serve as his swan song.

Naturally things went down the drain the second Bors left, with one of the eight peacing and his successor cancelling the live broadcast (does anyone remember what exactly happened? I vaguely recall one was the cause of the other but lol it’s July can’t be bothered to factscheck (Factsczeck?) anymore, bitches.

Anyway, ON TO THE GOOD STUFF, and yes, there was plenty.

We All Poop - “ All the Blood (Positive Song Actually)”

Yes, as you can imagine I ofc IMMEDIATELY fell into like when I saw that chyron and invisioned the inevitability of the Czech Rep’s Rep immediately alienating every parent just based on their name alone <3 😍 w/e WAP quickly became that “Good but not great” song you find in every NF that everyone gushes over because it’s the whitest option available. Like, yes, “All the blood” is good, but musically it’s identical to Green Day and Twenty-One Pilots and god name ANY 90s-early00′s American Punk Rock band. For me the enjoyment came from the fact that WAP were openly crazy vegan fundamentalists and the VC clip actively condemns the use ANY animal protein by replacing the cattle and game with LITERAL HUMAN BEINGS. 😍 :fusedmarcintensifies: :kasiamosage:

Pam Rabbit - “Get up”

Ohhhh YES a glorious experimental Synth-Trap song only I could love and ofc I did. God what is there even to say; the provocative darkness of the verses combined with the swirling amorphousness of the chorus gives me LIFE. LUFF THIS SHIT <3333 Ftr, this was also the fave of Slovene Juror duo / synth angels / Boris faves ZALAGASPER, further proving their pathetic naysayers that they own all things music and the haters can suck a series of-

Barbora Mochowa - “White and Black Holes“

Lol, yes even with a “Get up” existing, there was a song I liked even more. Barbora proved a very competent Lana del Gay last year, but I was a YUGE fan of this year’s... Kate Bush-Björk blend of ethereal awesome. It is so soothingly beautiful and the rare example of a song that I find completely free of flaws. Were the competition not such a hard place, I’d be pissed she didnt win (at least she won the jury vote MASSIVE KUDOS to every alum on that) but w/e this selection had opions and I’m rather robbed of a “Kemama” than I am of a BRILLIANT IRREPLICABLE AETHERBALLAD. ~Danse balance sûr les white and black holes~

Elis Mraz & Cis T - “Wanna be like”

I *VERY* strongly felt that if the Czech Republic wanted to win ESC, they should have picked Elis and even now I STILL believe she could have won. That isn’t to say I gushed over “Wanna be like” because I find it kind of annoying lol. Yes, I LOVE an annoying female voice (:Tones&Icackle:) but Elis’s reaches a Camilla Cabello sort of place for me (good lord get Senorita OFF the fucking radio) and the Scat + White Guy Rapping middle-eight. 😬. However, the second I opened up the video clip for this paragraph and was immediately BLASTED by Elis murdering a ukelele and wearing a  “schoolgirl” outfit straight from a Japanese tentacle porn movie and OH MY GOD THE AGGRESSIVE TWERKING made me reconsider that hey, this min-sized Meghan Traynor actually kinda highkey owns, yo!  Yet, I’m not at all bothered we lost her in the Czech NF because we got UNO DOS QUATRO CINCO SEIS :fatmansplit: fill up the megameme slot instead, so...

Eurovision 2020 vs Eurovision 2021

BENNY RUINED HIS SONG AND NEVER WOULD HAVE QUALIFIED. jk I’m not a moron. Sure, “Kemama” wasn’t an easy sell because you know AFROBEAT in a contest where half of the people watching are fash (ie: all of Eastern Europe, who watch out of ~Nationalistic Sentiment~ 😬), but there are Kemama live renditions out there and he owns them SO hard lol. A few soundmixing issues really would not have stopped Benny from qualifying in that RIDICULOUSLY WEAKSAUCE SEMIFINAL are you fucking kidding me. He probably would’ve bombed in the Grand Final, but I mean it’s Czech and it’s not Ickolas so ofc it would have.

And Czech renewed him for 2021 regardless of the sceptics, woohoo! I think part of it was due the Czech not wanting to re-organize an ENTIRE NF from scratch without Jan Bors, but probably also because Benny owns live when he isn’t engaged in psychological trench warfare with actual human detritus <3 and also because the Czech fucking CARE about their artists and don’t drop them like a sack of rotten potatoes wtfshitprus.

Can’t wait for the moment when he qualifies and Efendi does not, etc, etc. 

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I’d say that the core around which the Ben Drama spun was pretty standard fare: niche fave beats out the concensus fave, meltdowns ensue, people convince themselves it was the WRONG decision because it wasn the result they wanted, try to disown the song and make a fool of themselves because the song slaps, sorry. Even the revamp drama felt more of less generic for me, because yawn fantards melting down over a revamp of a song they don’t even like what else is new.  

However, what I do take away that the revamp was ENTIRELY Benny’s idea which he told no one about (cue to JAN BORS having a social media meltdown like he’s Caesar at the Ides of March 💔) added MORE afrobeat just to troll his haters even more <3  God, I’d say it was bad from a musical perspective but this level of in-your-face defiance is fucking iconic and hilarious, sorry. This entire this year is so batshit bonkers that the concept of a someone potentially shooting themselves in the foot and “torpedo’ing” their qualification chances  (not rly, he would’ve Q’d anyway lol) JUST to take the moral high ground in a racially coded argument only HE took seriously may not even be the craziest concept in the year! (lol it definitely isn’t. Look at the pics I haven’t greyed out yet)

This and more yield Benny some well-earned Senheads! Yay!! 

Score: 3 Senhits out of 5.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hey, it's me again, I hope you are still open for requests! You said I could ask for Mic content and, if I still can, what about some DadMic headcanons, with his own child and/or an adopted one?! Which one you prefer is fine! I hope you are doing well and thank you for the opportunity you gave me! Take care 💗

A/N: Hey you!! Thank you for requesting, it means a lot that you like my present mic work. And yes, you most definitely can have some DadMic headcanons. If you have any more requests just let me know. I did hours worth of homework and it deleted so i’m kind of like forget school and imma become a professional headcanon writer so honestly hit me up with as much stuff you want :)))))))

-

(i kind of wrote this like you are in the ages of like 6-10 so just keep that in mind)

-I feel he would have his child out of wedlock, maybe when he was younger out partying things got a little crazy then bam, next thing he knows he has a child with no mom and no idea what to do.

-cAlLs AizAwa 

-No but He’s a great Dad honestly, although he's clueless sometimes, he tends to figures things out fairly quickly

- At first it was really hard for him since he had this baby, a new hero career, and the whole world trashing on him, he totally broke down a few times and wanted to give up. BUt aizawa and his other friends helped him through and encouraged him

-You’re his little sunshine and HE LOVeS yoU tO death

-calls you literally any pet name that is very soft and cute and innocent

-He buys evErything for you, i swear! If you just look at something for more than two seconds, it’s in his cart and he’s buying it for you

-”dad you don-”

-”shh pumpkin, let daddy buy it for you.”

-your room is filled with what every girl wants to have

-He learns to do your hair, no matter the texture or thickness or length, he’ll watch youtube videos and figure it out

-he lets you do his hair as well, braiding it, curling it whatever, he’s totally fine with it. JuSt DoNt CUt iT

-New school year and you need new clothes?? Yeah over 1,000 dollars worth of stuff brought.

-speaking of school, sometimes you get comments and stuff from teachers or students because you might not look like him or because you don’t know who your mom is, ect.

-At first when you were younger, it didn’t hurt you, you couldn’t understand that anyways, but as you started to get older it affected you more and more until one day you came home crying to present, and it literally breaks his heart

-”Daddy, why isn’t my skin as light as yours, and my hair isn’t as thin? The other kids make fun of me for it...it really hurts me. And WHere is mom? Does she not love us? You’re really sweet i don’t know why she doesn’t want to be with you…”

-”why are you asking this?”

-”The kids and teachers at school…”

-RAGE MODE ACTIVATED

-He literally storms down to your school and demands that the questions and comments stop or he’s going to press charges

-Never ever was asked about any of those things again...well, more or less, sometimes you hear teachers or students whispering or makings sly comments but you chose to ignore those things 

-”DONT YOU EVER TALK TO ME OR MY LITTLE CUTIE PIE EVER AGAIN.”

-HUGs!! He hugs you like all the time everyday when he sees you. Like it’s his way it’s saying i love you although he screams that to you all the time

-”Y/N MY LITTLE GIRL,” *jump hugs* “I LOOOOOOOVveevVVEVVEvevV Ee YOuuUUUUUUOoUUUU”

- PROTECCS YOU AT ALL COSTS

-Like when the world found out that he had a kid, and he was still kind of a kid himself with a just starting a career, he kind of got shitted on a whole lot...by everyone and the press is always writing stories and stuff so when you were old enough to read or understand some stuff he’d often keep TV off or keep you away from the press and media although that became harder when you had to go outside and go to school but as much as he can limit that crazy stuff you see, he’ll do it.

-He makes sure you can defend yourself and as soon as you get your quirk, he’s training you. He will never push mega hard however he makes sure that the training is vigorous enough that when danger comes...you’re ready 

-Being a pro hero’s child can mean you’re in a lot of danger, people want to kill or kidnap you to hurt the hero so he’s constantly worries and on you about safety

-If your quirk is similar to his, skskkdnjsk he literally will SCREEEEEEEE, he thinks it’s so awesome you have a quirk like his and he will make sure that the both of you will annoy Aizawa 

-As much as Hizashi spoils you, you had to grow up a whole lot quickly. Even though he’s an underground hero and kinda works on his on time, his job is still quite demanding and he has to be gone a lot so that means you need to learn how to cook, clean, do your homework, etc. on your own so if anything happens (god forbid) you know how to take care of yourself. when you were younger tho he’d have a babysitter/nanny to look and take care of you while he’s at work

-Although when he is home he cooks and does all of that stuff. HE'S A REALLY GOOD COOK??????? Like seriously and don’t let me get started on the pastries he makes...mmmm yummm…

-only burnt down the kitchen once...Don’t tell Aizawa plez ;-;

-He actually feels very very bad about leaving you at home a lot with responsibility, he’s all about fun and really just being a kid so he always apologizes to you and plans something super fun when he’s off of work. Like laser tag, going out for ice cream, or just building forts at home. He makes sure you have a balance

-He might’ve brought you a puppy so you would have a friend, you let him name the puppy and now you have a “Mr.Ruffkins” running around your house

-He let’s you have girls night which is basically just you and him and sometimes a friend, and you guys just paint each other nails, put bows in each others hair, all the girly stuff,  and just talk about anything. 

-It’s his way i guess to make up for the mother-daughter time you don’t have in your life

-Cute picnics at the park with a bunch of snacks and you guys will just feed the little duckies and animals 

-Brings you around his agency or to his radio show all the time, like everyone that works there knows and loves you a whole lot. You even have a mini cute pink desk with a name tag on it.

-You have a little segment on his show called “LittleMic and PresentMic” and you guys just talk about crazy weird stuff and reach out to single Dads who are also raising up kids. It’s super cute i swear.

-Aizawa is your tired uncle that says he hates coming over but he comes over like everyday and eats all your food while watching TV on the couch 

-He’s the best uncle though but he’s super blunt. So sometimes you go to him for advice or just to talk. He adores you though and checks on you while DadMic is at work or something. 

-Aizawa call you “Kiddo” or “littleMic” or just “y/n”

-Present lets you pick out his new tattoos, and one time he let you draw one….now he has a crooked purple butterfly on his arm...it’s all good tho

-Father daughter danceeeeee ya ya ya! You guys bring the moves and the music to the dance floor like get out the mf way swines.

-He picked out your dress and you picked out his suit, he even let you do a little man bun

-sometimes when you guys are just chilling at home, you will play some of your favorite classics, and you will step on his feet and he’ll dance, you guess may have fell like twice.

-speaking of music and dancing, he will turn up all of the pop jams that you love (slipping some of his rock n’ roll faves) THROW candy all through out the house and both of you are dancing in weird costumes while singing

-”I LOOOOOOOOvvEEEE ROcKKK N ROLLLLL SO PUT ANOTHER DIME IN THE JUKE BOX bAE bEEEEEEBHEDB”

-You are very much involved in music and he showed you how to make your own mixtapes, playlists, and how to DJ on your own

-piggy back rideeeesss yuuuuhhhhh. When you’re feeling sad he randomly picks you up, twirls you onto his back and runs around the house yells

-”WOOOOOSSSHHHHHH MEGA JET FLYING A SAD PASSENGER, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY WOOOOOSSHHHSHSH”

-Usually does this until you’re laughing and playing along with him

-”KrrSHH THIS IS FLIGHTER PILOT Y/N WITH MY  TRUSTY JET YAMADA ON MY WAY TO DESTROY THE ENEMY PLANE, ANyoNE copPY?”

-one time you like dressed up like him for halloween and it was lit. hair somehow slicked up, black leather jacket and some headphones...wooo child you looked cool

-”PRESENT MIC MAY I GET YOUR AUTOGRAPH???”

-”nO PapArazzi PleAse”

-I feel as though you’d be bilingual, Japanese and English. I feel at home it’ll lean more towards English although there’s a hint of Japanese in there

-He rarely gets mad at you but if he did, it’s probably because you put yourself in danger or something of that sorts

-If you cannot sleep, he’ll let you sleep with him and he’ll have blue clues playing in the bakground to help “sooth you” (he enjoys that show very much”

-”THE CLUE IS RIGHT THERE BLUEEEE”

-”dad? I-”

-Tells you stories about his high school/early life and gives you advice

-”in conclusion do not throw a pumpkin at a security guard or you might get hurt...okay love bug?”

-The sweetest thing ever, like he randomly makes weird faces or says random things to make you laugh

-Forehead kisses or little cheek kisses

-Twirls you around and says “Ah my little princess looks lovely today”

-OMG TICKLE FIGHTS I SWEAR YOU’RE GASPING FOR AIR SOMEONE HELP YOU BUT LIKE ITS FUN

-You help him choose outfits when he’s indecisive

-”take away the scarf and go with the graphic tee and maybe the black boots instead of the red ones”

-”Look at my child, a fashion Icon.”

-He let you decorate the house so now there’s glitter, pink stuff, rainbows and sparkles all around the house but it’s super cute. 

-Many cute photos of you guys in macaroni picture frames.

-HE TAKES PICTURES OF EVERYTHING LIKE STACKS OF PHOTOS SMHHH TAKE THE CAMERA AWAAAAYYYYY

-Being Present’s Child would be super cute and mega fun. He’s one of the most interactive loving dads out there, you would never feel lost or lonely for a second. Seriously he is the dad that we all wanted/ needed as a kid lmao. 

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Shots and Guilt

First, Previous(Chap. 23), Ao3

Word count: 3610

Warnings: Gun, Blood and Injury, (kinda) Torture, Knives, Bloodlust, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Drinking and Driving, Gore, Skipping a Meal, Alcohol (even more of it), Guilt, Choking, Mention of Past Murder, Panic Attack, Self Harm

This really isn't a nice chapter. If anyone needs it I can make a summary of it. Just leave a comment or send me an ask if that's the case. Stay safe.

Virgil listened to the sound of the rain pattering against the car and the radio woman report what had happened in Aunt Lian's block earlier this night.

Glitch monsters.

He dug around the glove compartment until he found Uncle Remy's cigarettes, hidden under the ammunition, lit one and took a drag. He watched the smoke curl and opened the window just by an inch to release it into the night.

Destroyed street lights.

He glanced at the Seven11 Remy had disappeared in about half an hour ago and lit his lighter again, watching the tiny flame dance in the stale light of the car lamp.

Messed up electronics.

A shadowy figure stood next to his window and Virgil glanced over at them. They were holding a knife. Good for them.

"Fuck off," Virgil mumbled tiredly and took another drag.

"Open the car door if you know what's good for you, kid," the guy demanded.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at that. He took his feet off the headboard and sat up slowly.

"If I know what's good for myself? If you know what's good for yourself you're going to fucking piss off now!"

"Kid-!" he thrust the knife at the window gap and Virgil kicked open the door hitting them square on the chest. They stumbled back and growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you, brat!"

Vigil stepped out of the car, taking the butterfly knife and the colt from the glove compartment with him.

"No, you're not," he stepped on his cigarette to put it out.

The robber was big. About twice as tall and five times as wide as Virgil, all muscles and heavy bones.

But at the sight of the gun, he froze. An uneasy smile took the place of the angry grimace.

They were in a lonely and dark parking lot. Nobody would look out of the window if they heard a gunshot or scream.

"Kid, don't do anything you're gonna regret. I'm part of the Trulow family. They're gonna hunt you down if you shoot me. No ones gonna find you're body! I bet yer mother's gonna get worried sick if her kid doesn't come home!"

Again Virgil laughed humourlessly.

The rain was cold on his skin and his hair stuck to his face and neck but he couldn't care less. There was that feeling in his chest again that he knew Papa knew well, even if he never wanted to talk about it, the feeling he couldn't imagine living without even after being told a thousand times that it wasn't normal, that he wasn't supposed to talk about with people outside of the family. That intoxicating feeling - better than any liquor, pills or joint but no less dangerous. "It's what makes our kind what we are," Uncle Emile had once said. The man across from him knew it too. Virgil could tell. Otherwise, he wouldn't flinch back. Wouldn't be able to see it in Virgil's smile and his every movement like a bloody red threat.

The bloodlust felt like a promise in his lungs.

"Jokes on you," he slowly walked towards the man. "My mothers dead. And if you're really a Trulow, how come I've never seen you on the Christmas card? I'm sure I'd remember a face as ugly as yours."

"What-?" the man stumbled backwards.

"If you want to make it in this city you really ought to learn who to threaten and who's out of your league. You're just another sewer rat. I'm like a motherfucking prince to you."

The man fell back on his ass, crawling backwards.

"Run along now, rat. Wouldn't want mommy to worry, would we?"

The man scrambled to his feet and turned to run.

Virgil raised the gun, aimed and fired.

A scream cut through the air as the man crashed into the concrete.

He sobbed and whimpered, staring at the blood sprayed over the ground as if he couldn't believe it was his. As if the realisation that there was now a hole where his foot connected to his leg hadn't quite made its way into his thick head yet.

"Sorry," Virgil said as he got closer and knelt down next to him. "Couldn't resist. You better not tell my Pa about this."

He dug his hand into the wound until his fingers found the bullet, ignoring the pained screams.

"He hates when I use guns. Which I honestly don't get. I mean, he uses them all the time! Bloody double standards," he inspected the bloody bullet in his hand.

"Who- Who the fuck are you?" the man sobbed.

Virgil grinned. "Have you ever heard those rumours? About Professor Logic having a child?"

The man's eyes widened in terror.

Virgil heard the doors of the Seven11 slide open and stood up.

Remy raised an eyebrow as he got closer.

"Jesus, can't I leave you alone for five minutes?" he asked.

"That was half an hour. And he started it. He wanted to rob the car or something. I only used one bullet if that's what you're worried about," Virgil tossed the gun over to him and Remy caught it in his free hand.

"Whatever. Just get in the car, hon. I got slushies and alcohol. We can stop at Crispy Creme if you want to."

"Sure," Virgil picked up the knife the would-be robber had dropped and jogged back to the car. "I hope they have warm doughnuts."

"They better. Oh, and there should be some baby wipes in the glove compartment. I'm not letting you eat with that guy's blood on your hands. Who knows what's been in that-? Wait, did you steal one of my cigs?"

"...No," Virgil claimed and was suddenly very interested in cleaning every crevice of his hand.

"Don't fucking lie to me. Just don't smoke in the car next time and ask before you take one. Emile doesn't like when the car smells," Remy handed him one of the slushies.

"Sorry," Virgil took a long sip until the pain of bain freeze bloomed behind his forehead before digging around in Remy's bag until he found the alcohol..

"Pour me some in too, would ya?"

"Sure," Virgil unscrewed the cap and poured some in his own then a bit more in Remy's cup. "More or is this good?"

Remy glanced over at him.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?"

"More it is."

"Exactly."

"I swear you're that "Two shots of vodka" vine," Virgil shook his head.

Remy chuckled. "I take zero offence to that. Also, I gotta make sure you don't drink too much. You have school tomorrow."

"You're literally drinking and driving. And I'm going to school trollied tomorrow whether you like it or not."

"I think this is why your father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He can't. You and Uncle Emile are like his only friends."

"Doesn't he also have that flower boy?" Remy pulled into the Crispy Creme's parking lot.

"That's his boyfriend," Virgil corrected and took another sip. Slowly he felt the alcohol kick in.

"You mean your new father, then?"

"I guess. Not officially yet but hopefully soon. He's nice. On the other hand, if he moves in I'll have to hide my skull collection."

Virgil followed Remy out of the car and into the shop.

The sugary sweet smell of warm doughnuts filled the air.

Remy bought a box, tipped a twenty and pulled Virgil back out with him.

"I'm not letting you drink any more," he decided. "You're not going to school drunk, kid."

"Yes, I am. Fuck off and give me a doughnut."

"Either you stop drinking or you don't get any doughnuts."

Virgil glared at him and took a doughnut.

"Fine."

---

He still had a headache when he went to math class later.

He wasn't sure if it was just the hungover or also something else.

Not that it mattered. He had already learned the shit, the man, whose name he couldn't remember, was explaining incredibly badly at the blackboard.

Instead of paying attention he stared blankly out of the window.

Slowly the sleep deprivation was also starting to catch up with him, making his eyes heavy.

Janus had texted him that they wouldn't be coming to school for the day, which made it even more dull than usual.

He should have stayed drunk.

Then it at least would've been somewhat interesting.

Virgil woke up again to the sound of the school bell. He blinked a few times, trying to reorient himself and sighed.

At least math was over.

His next lesson was English, then Chemistry.

Or maybe he should just skip.

It wouldn't make a difference.

Maybe he could find a nice spot for the graffiti design he'd come up with based on the last body he'd found in the sewers.

The rats had eaten the fuckers stomach out and Virgil had set the eyebrows or rather what had been left of the eyebrows, on fire before taking a few pictures for reference.

He'd just have to come up with something for when Janus asked where he'd gotten the idea.

Virgil left the classroom and ducked into the nearest bathroom, locking the stall door behind himself before climbing out of the window. He wondered briefly how long it'd stay locked before someone noticed that it wasn't occupied at all. Probably at least until the toilets were cleaned. Whenever that'd be.

A sports teacher was preparing a lesson by the tracks but she was too focused on the task at hand to notice Virgil sneak to the fence and climb over it. He gave the school a middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away. For all he cared, every single person in there could go fuck themselves. Especially the principal.

Papa was working - at the university today - so Virgil went home to drop off his backpack and picked up his graffiti bag, headphones and the sketchbook he'd drawn the design in..

He strolled through the streets of downtown, avoided a few coppers and took an underground to take him wherever. As long as there were big empty walls there he didn't care.

He got out at the sixth stop.

Virgil didn't make a habit of spending time uptown.

Occasionally maybe, for family celebrations or when he and Janus planned heists but other than that he stayed in the part of town he had been raised in.

But that didn't mean that he didn't know the streets and alleyways, the shops, public buildings and skyscrapers made of glass, like towers out of a fairy tale. Papa was of the firm opinion that knowledge was power and he'd made sure that Virgil knew everything he needed about Woethough.

It didn't take him long to find a good wall.

The back of the main police station was just painfully boring.

Virgil pulled the half mask he used for vigilante business over his face, partly to avoid someone seeing his face and partly because of the fumes. Then he opened the sketch book and pulled two spray cans out of his bag, shaking them.

This'd be fun.

He worked far slower than usual, the anxiety over being spotted by the damned pigs making him pack up the cans he wasn't using immediately, so he'd be able to make a quick escape, and check for witnesses every five minutes.

By some miracle no one came by. For a while, he had the insistent feeling of being watched but couldn't find anyone.

He watched the flames, body and rats take shape with every colour he added until he got to the point where more would only make it worse.

Virgil took a few steps back and grinned. He signed it with his usual spider and took a photo to send Janus. They weren't online so he didn't bother waiting for a reply and packed up his stuff.

It was around noon now and he was getting hungry but ignored the feeling. He could eat later.

Instead he walked around some more, pickpocketed a businessman he recognized from TV - Mr Grimm or something like that - and bought a few new markers from the stolen money, before climbing onto the roof of a library to test them out.

At eight he took a train back to downtown.

It was already dark thanks to autumn finally taking over properly and most other teens were probably either suicidal, gang members or at home.

This was the beauty of the city.

As soon as the sun went down the few laws that were actually followed became meaningless.

Now the city belonged to the street rats and the lawless. They were all animals. From the racoons and possums, over the henchmen and thieves up to the mafia and his family.

All animals.

Hungry for blood.

Greedy and destructive.

Virgil absolutely loved it.

He passed a few of Uncle Jeremy's men beating up a cop with a crowbar in an alleyway, greeting him as he passed, watched a woman smash a chair over the head some guy who had tried to grope her, dishevelled and angry, and grinned at the raven and racoon, which were fighting viciously over some small animal one of them had killed.

There was a light burning in the living room when he got home. Not the ceiling light - it was far too muted for that.

He unlocked the front door and shut it behind himself. It was warm in here.

"I'm home!" he called, taking off his shoes and jacket.

No reply.

"Papa?"

Still no reply.

Virgil frowned, waiting for a moment longer and went into the living room.

Papa was slumped on the couch, fingers tracing an empty glass. Next to it on the table was an empty bottle of whiskey, that Virgil knew had been more than half full just this morning. He'd opened it after all.

Slowly Papa looked up as if only noticing him standing in the doorway now.

"...V'gil," he slurred.

"How much did you drink?" Virgil asked with a frown. He couldn't remember ever having seen Papa drunk.

He blinked at the bottle and gestured vaguely with one hand. "J'st a little."

Virgil sighed.

"Well, you clearly had enough. You're fucking trollied. Let's get you to bed, shall we? You'll hate yourself for this tomorrow, you know?"

"Already do," Papa mumbled as Virgil put his arm over his shoulder to support him.

Papa leaned on him heavily and Virgil staggered under the weight slightly but managed to bring him to the stairs, where Papa could also hold onto the bannister, taking some of the weight of his shoulders.

"You look so much like your mother," Papa suddenly said, just as they reached the second floor and Virgil almost let him fall in surprise.

Papa didn't talk about her.

He never did.

"She had her hair like that for a while too," Papa continued. "Then she grew it out longer. She looked so beautiful. Like an angel."

Virgil kicked open the door to Papa's room.

He didn't say anything, almost forgetting how to breathe. Papa was actually talking about her.

Carefully Virgil let him slide onto the bed and ducked to take off his shoes.

"I didn't mean to kill her," Papa said, anguish in his voice as he began combing through Virgil's hair with one hand. "I really didn't. I  just- I just wanted to scare her."

His hand slid over Virgil's cheek slowly and even though Papa was looking at him Virgil had the feeling that he wasn't seeing him.

No.

Papa was seeing her.

"I didn't think it'd be that fragile," Papa's hand slid down further and settled on Virgil's neck. A jolt of panic shot through him. "I didn't think it'd break that easily."

Papa began to squeeze.

"I just grabbed her and pressed down."

His grip began to hurt and Virgil tried to gasp for breath, clawing at the hand on his throat.

"And then she was dead. Just like that."

Blackspots appeared in Virgil's vision and he swung out wildly.

His fist hit Papa on the temple and he collapsed onto the bed.

Virgil gasped and coughed, stumbling back towards the door and slammed it as soon as he was on the hallway.

He still couldn't breathe.

Why the fuck couldn't he breathe?!

His vision swam, from tears this time instead of lack of oxygen.

Was this how she had felt?

In her last moments, getting choked by the man she had loved and trusted?

He didn't want this. This panic in his chest keeping him from breathing and making the world around him blur. At least not because of Papa. Not him. Never because of Papa. Papa was supposed to be safe. Papa protected him. Papa helped him calm down.

Papa had just tried to kill him.

Virgil sobbed.

Papa had tried to kill him the same way he'd killed her.

Virgil barely remembered to grab his jacket as he ran out, slamming the front door and running down the dark street.

He stopped at the North Bridge and collapsed against the railing.

The air was now so cold it almost burned in his lungs as he finally managed to take a breath. His throat hurt. He carefully wrapped his hand around it. It'd bruise.

 "You look so much like your mother."

Virgil stumbled on through the streets. His reflection in a dark shop window caught his attention and made him stop.

His cheeks were streaked with black.  His eyes were covered almost completely by messy black hair.

So she had had shoulder-long hair at one point.

Virgil grabbed a hand full of hair and pulled at it until a few strands ripped off.

He stared down at them.

He didn't want Papa to see her in his place.

The lights of another store, also reflecting in the shop window he was standing in front of caught his attention.

Did they have bleach there?

He crossed the street.

The shop was empty and Virgil was barely aware of the song playing over the speakers, so quiet that it was drowned out by his mind.

He grabbed two cartons.

Bleach and the first hair dye his hand touched. He didn't care. He had no idea what colour her hair had been. He just didn't want black.

He didn't bother to wait for his change as he handed the cashier a twenty and fled the store.

Back at home, Virgil locked himself in the bathroom and ripped open the bleach carton, barely skimming the instructions.

The chemical smell filled the room as he spread it over his hair and when he was done he had to open a window to breathe.

He set a timer on his phone and busied himself with washing off his make up while he let it set.

Once he was done with that he began pulling at the skin of his arms and digging his nails into the scars to keep his thoughts from spiralling again.

The timer went off and he rinsed his hair out.

It was almost white now.

He ripped open the secong carton.

Purple.

For fucks sake.

He spread it over his hair, careful to get it everywhere.

If he was going to look stupid he might as well make sure it wasn't splotchy.

He wasn't hungry anymore but he still went into the kitchen and warmed up some soup, forcing himself to eat, despite the gag reflex that kicked in a few times.

Then he washed his hair again.

He didn't bother looking at the result before he grabbed the razor and scissors. Once he was done he pulled on a turtle neck to hide the forming bruise, poured a glass of water and grabbed an aspirin.

For a few minutes he stood in front of Papa's door, frozen until he managed to go in, put both items on the nightstand and immediately flee again.

Then he once again grabbed his jacket and left, locking the door behind himself.

He wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. At least not if he stayed here.

---

A knock on the window snapped Janus out of the half-asleep half-awake state they'd been in for hours.

Slowly they stood up, the floor cold against their bare feet, and frowned at the figure in the window.

They grabbed a glass water bottle as a weapon and cautiously opened it.

The figure slid inside.

"Virgil?" Janus frowned and set down the bottle. "The fuck are you doing here?!"

"You owe me," Virgil rasped. "Five nights. From that bet."

Janus blinked, their brain catching up slowly.

"The one we made for my parent's wedding?"

Virgil nodded.

He was upset. Even in the dark Janus could tell.

They closed the window, cutting off the cold draft, and Virgil took off his shoes.

For a moment they contemplated what to say.

They were sure that something had happened.

They just didn't know what.

"I won't ask," they finally said, "but if you want to talk... I'm here for you, okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything else. His voice was hoarse.

Janus led him over to their bed and climbed in, letting him follow.

He'd cut his hair.

It also looked lighter than usual, though they couldn't be sure in the bad lighting.

Janus had almost fallen asleep again when they hear a muffled sob.

They looked over at Virgil again.

He was crying.

So something bad had happened.

For a moment they hesitated before they wrapped their arms around Virgil and pulled him against their chest.

"It'll be okay," they promised.

Virgil just latched onto them and buried his face in their shirt.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake , @isabelle-stars

[roxannarambles]

Firewatch Review: Where There’s Smoke

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Mar 4, 2016.

Contains major, major spoilers including endgame. Do not read if you haven’t played!

When I first started into this game I thought it was a horrifically depressing introduction. It opens telling a tale of a man and a woman who fall in love and it’s a lovely story and then the woman falls ill from a rare hereditary disease and slowly gets worse and loses her career and the man loses the wife he knew and struggles to care for her and it’s fucking awful. Then the game opens with the man– you– taking up a summer job in a park near Yellowstone. He’s done this to get away and have some time to think about his life.

He works in a watchtower. Lone rangers station in these towers to watch the horizon for signs of fire. He has little to do but keep an eye out and sit alone in his station up there. His only company is his supervisor, in the nearest watchtower over, whom he speaks to via walkie-talkie. (these are the days before cell phones) Her name’s Delilah.

All I was really told about this game is that it involved exploration and was story-centric. And that’s an accurate description. And while it starts off with a rather depressing backstory, the main part of the game is not all bleak and bleary. It is a story about the interaction between Henry and Delilah. There is a mystery plot involved in the game as well; the game starts off with small park dramas and tasks to ease into things, then develops a mystery, which eventually gets rather intense. But entwined with this mystery story, always central and foremost, is the character-driven plot of these two.

The voice acting is fantastic, and the writing is excellent, so it carries well. Dialogue writing is certainly not everyone’s strength, but the writers here did a very good job. The two characters have excellent chemistry; it flows naturally and is very enjoyable. The quips and interactions are fed in small bits steadily throughout the game as you explore, providing an enjoyable regular stream of interactions. It’s a satisfying blend of exploration and conversation.

The game is atmospheric and beautiful to look at, and that’s not something to dismiss either. Those factors really do add something special to a game.

And here’s the thing. I fell in love. It was such a compelling story. And the characters felt so real. I found myself deeply engrossed in the mystery and unable to stop. I found myself deeply emotionally invested in the characters and I truly cared about them. They were relatable human beings. And I loved Delilah. She was the light in the dark. The beacon in the middle of the loneliness. My lighthouse; my watchtower. Quippy, caring, flawed, human. I shared my troubles with her, and she listened.

Early on in the game, one of the conversation responses caused Henry to say something that annoyed Delilah and kinda offend her a little. I had accidentally overheard a phone conversation she was having (she left her walkie-talkie button depressed) and it sounded like kinda maybe she had been talking about me? So I asked her, were you talking about me? She was confused and surprised at the accusation and no, it had just been a conversation about work, and besides, was that really any of my business?

So the good mood killed, she stepped out for a while and I couldn’t talk to her anymore on the walkie-talkie. ‘Cause she was annoyed and didn’t feel like talking. And the thing is– I felt so bad. Like, I really felt sorry and wanted to apologize and felt I’d been a bad person for accusing her of that, and I wanted her to like me. And I didn’t want to be left alone. It was hauntingly quiet, unlike the rest of the game, when Delilah wasn’t there for company. I think this plot point was especially effective because it was in the middle of what had been at that point the deepest conversation we’d had so far, and we had been really bonding and sharing. But now I’d screwed it up.

Eventually Delilah forgave us for our rude question. And I cannot tell you how much of a relief it was. Heck, I thought I’d lost my chance and it would never be brought up again and I’d never have a chance to apologize, but she brought it up later. (She actually apologized for being so snappish over it, and said she knew what it was like to get too lost in your own head out there and start imagining things.) I felt so much better knowing we were cool again. It was that delicate part of a budding new friendship, you know, and I didn’t wanna mess it up. I really commend the game for including the callbacks to previous conversations. It enhanced the feeling of history between us and internal consistency throughout the story.

There have been many people online complaining about the way the game ultimately ended. In my humble opinion, those people are missing the point of the game. Indeed, with games like these, that have a somewhat open-ended conclusion (and there’s plenty of stories that fall into that category), how you interpret the ending and its meaning says a lot about the person who played the game. The whole point of an open-ended conclusion is for a person to think and draw conclusions, after all, but many people seem to fail to realize this.

One game that comes to mind is ‘Presentable Liberty,’ a game that you spend in a prison cell for the vast majority of the time, reading letters that are delivered to you. It had a very open-ended and nebulous ending. But that game made so many people think, and I think Firewatch makes you think a lot too.

I won’t lie, of course; I do somewhat understand where the critics are coming from. In some ways the ending did feel anti-climactic to me. It felt like it was possibly building up to something and that payoff never came. Yet … that experience in and of itself was fascinating to me.

Let me explain in detail. First of all, I reached the conclusion of the mystery plot. Plenty of people bitched about this online as well, but I loved the way it concluded. The plot was suggesting a very exciting but rather typical video-game story where a government conspiracy was uncovered that was studying human subjects (perhaps a psychological study of the effects of isolation in people), and Henry and Delilah were the subjects in these nefarious privacy-violating experiments. However, this “plot twist” of a secret government study ended up being a false twist. Instead, the story ended up in a less typical direction. As it turned out, the group of mysterious people behind all the spooky hijinks wasn’t that at all … it was one man. One lonely, desperate man living as a hermit with a tragic, awful secret he was hiding about an accident during his job as a fire watch. It was our fears and paranoia that had conjured up this imaginary, yet very real-feeling plot of conspiracy and subterfuge.

And I loved that. I loved that it was something driven by a simple lone man who was guilty and afraid. I loved that was the explanation, that it was something so prosaic rather than fantastic and fanciful. Like the best horror stories are about man as being the worst monster instead of werewolves and vampires, this showed the best mysteries were about human loneliness and desperation and guilt rather than complex conspiracies or extraordinary mojo. Indeed, you felt bad for the man who had been unintentionally tormenting us this whole time.*

After this conclusion to the mystery plot, hot on its heels– literally, because you were being chased by the spreading wildfire– was the conclusion of the Henry/Delilah plot. I was rushing out of there to rendezvous with a rescue helicopter so I could escape my post before fire consumed everything. They landed near Delilah’s watchtower, before I had made it to the rendezvous point– I’d been busy tracking down the ending to the mystery. She told me the helicopters would make another pass for when I got there, but … she might just leave now since the current copter was there.

“Wait for me,” I said into our walkie-talkie. I wanted to leave with her. Together. She was very reluctant when I begged this of her. But she finally relented that ok, ok, she’ll wait. I hollered I was on my way. I rushed as fast as I could.

I finally reached the spot– it was Delilah’s watch tower. The point in the distance I had always gazed upon but never had been to until now. But something didn’t feel right as Delilah was oddly silent on the walkie.

I entered the empty watch tower. I saw a small sign, “Pork Pond” attached to her wall and smiled faintly. I *knew* she had that sign. I put on the radio headset and called.

Delilah answered, in a tone that made it clear she knew I wouldn’t exactly be pleased to be listening to her voice over the radio waves yet again instead of seeing her standing there. She asked me not to be mad.

“I’m not mad, I’m just …”

“Disappointed?”

And yes. I was. That was it exactly.

It hurt. I genuinely felt sad and hurt that Delilah had left without me. It felt like she abandoned me. She stammered about having not want to meet me in the shadow of that poor dead child I had just learned about, but … it still hurt. After all we’d been through the least she could have done was waited. And you’ve no idea how much I had wanted to finally meet Delilah in person, dang.

But I pondered it after, and it made a lot of sense, her actions. She had been afraid to meet me in person, I think. It would have made the whole thing even more real, you know? If it was just over the walkies, fine. But … in person would have made it too real. Delilah was afraid of getting attached. Not just because she had had her heart broken by her long-term boyfriend and was afraid of getting close again to someone, but probably for more practical reasons too. Henry was still married, for Pete’s sake, and in a very complex situation with his sick wife. Any smart girl would want to avoid getting involved with a guy who’s still married. So her early departure and lukewarm response to me asking for her to come with me back to Boulder, well, it made sense.

As much as it had hurt for her to not wait, I understood and forgave her for it. In a way, I suppose, it may have made it easier for us both not to face the anguish of a relationship not working if we never saw each other in person to begin with. But … fuck. Had it been me, I would have wanted to see her in person anyway. I would have asked her to wait. At least for a goddamn hug.**

We spoke on the radio as I waited for the helicopter to swing back around to pick me up. We talked about our future plans. We both didn’t know what they would be. Delilah thought I should go back to my wife and do my best to make things right. Somehow.

And it ended once we were pulled into the helicopter.

People online whine that this ending was a 'cop out,’ not a real conclusion. I don’t believe that. I think the entire point was that feeling of uncertainty about the future and that missed chance at getting together with Delilah. Life is uncertain so often. We don’t know how to fix things, what to do, and what things mean. It’s our search for meaning that is so valuable. This game was a reflection of life experiences many can relate to. Not necessarily all the details– a wife that fell ill with premature dementia– but the general themes? Absolutely. This story is about people struggling to cope with loneliness, seeking to connect with others, struggling to deal with hardships in life, seeking purpose and meaning, seeking direction. And it does not provide solid answers at the very end, but that’s OK. It doesn’t have to. It’s OK if the players can provide some of the answers. Sometimes asking the questions is as valuable as providing the answers in a story.

And yeah, sometimes the guy doesn’t ‘get the girl.’ Sometimes relationships don’t work out. (Especially if the guy is still married and needs to deal with some shit before either staying with his wife or breaking up and pursuing something else.) That doesn’t mean our connection with Delilah that summer didn’t have meaning or purpose or value, just that … such things don’t always have a future as a long-term relationship.

I earnestly believe the ending to this game was fine as-is. I might even say it was a perfect ending. Although I admit I desperately wanted to meet Delilah at the very end***, I’m pretty sure my sense of diappointment and feeling of sorrow at not seeing her were kind of exactly the point of the story. All in all, it ended on a tone that was sad and nebulous, but not deeply depressing. There was still a sense of hope about things, and I think that’s important.

(Amusingly, much later I learned there is an option at the very end to NOT enter the rescue helicopter. It leaves without you if you wait long enough, implying suicide of your character Henry. Much darker option than the one I describe above. But again, in stories like these, it depends on player’s reactions, input, and interpretations too, and fortunately most do not have quite that bleak of an interpretation of the tale– and quite that bleak of a choice.)

So many of us sit alone in our own watchtowers, isolated, searching for any meaningful human connection we can come across. I think the themes of connection and isolation were masterfully explored in this game. You really fuckin’ felt it, you know?

And to me, it’s noble. That human beings stand in this intense loneliness but continue that search, and they sometimes find somebody. It may not always end well, but that doesn’t mean you should stop the search and that you won’t find another. Or even rekindle old flames.

Either way, you shouldn’t stop searching the horizon.

————–

Footnotes:

* That’s not to say the dude wasn’t guiltless in his actions. I think it was rather awful of him to just leave his poor kid’s body down in that hole instead of facing up to what had happened, going home, letting people and loved ones know what went on, etc. Also pretty stupid of the guy to pressure his son into doing that dangerous rock-climbing when the kid didn’t have the skills. But, ya know, you felt bad for him too.

** I should note, I have no idea if Henry should break up with his wife Julia (& tried things out with Delilah) or not. I had no opinion on it because who knows? Choices like that are friggin’ complex. Seriously.

*** And yes, I realize the game never had a model for her character anyway, so from a technical standpoint it would have been impossible, but it’s best to use in-story explanations for events, not technical explanations.

[skybiome]

Net Outcome

a fic for @mine-sara-sp‘s shadow au! I’m not quite sure if everything lines up with the pre-established fics, so if something doesn’t quite match im sorry

Wels and Biffa were fighting along one of the beaches near the shopping district. They were simply going through the motions of crossing blades, not really talking. All of their focus was on the spar at hand.

With the shadow update and everything that happened as a result, the knight and cyborg hadn't had much time to catch up.

As the sunset over the horizon, Biffa unceremoniously decided that practice would be over at the foot of the statue of hermity, and tripped Wels. He held the point of his sword at the knight’s throat. After a moment, Biffa pointed the sword elseward and offered his friend a hand instead. Wels took it confidently and Biffa pulled him to his feet. 

The two struck up a conversation as they walked down to the edge of the water. Wels pulled a checkered blanket out of his inventory and spread it out on the sand. Biffa set a cake on the blanket and Wels handed him a bowl of rabbit stew. Golden carrots may be the most efficient food, but sometimes it was nice to eat a variety of different foods. 

Wels set his empty bowl on the blanket and glanced at Biffa before turning to look towards the ocean. He took a deep breath. “Biffa, do you like the shadow update? Like genuinely, do you think it's good?” 

Biffa tried to choke down the stew in the mouth to say something, but Wels purposely spoke when his friend had a mouth full of food. 

He chuckled at his friend. “And I don’t mean that in a smart-alecky “What is good?” kind of way. I mean do you think that this update will have a net positive in the outcome? For the server?”

Biffa managed to swallow the remains of his food and pounded his chest and took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but then thought for a second and closed it again. After a minute, he spoke. 

“Did you bring me out here for an intervention, Wels?”

“I’m not really sure. I think I just kind of want to talk. We haven’t had the opportunity to lately.”

“Then let’s talk about you. What’s your shadow been up to? Paladin, right?” Biffa cut a slice from the cake, put it on a plate with silverware, and held it out to Wels. 

The knight took and cake but just set it in his lap. “Yeah, he goes by Paladin. The Vex shadows took an early liking to him, and just kind of kidnapped him, I think. He’s died a few times.” Wels laughed at something quietly. “And every time he has, the Vex shadows have found me and had me re-summon him.”

Biffa looked alarmed at that news. “Do they just, kidnap you?”

“Sort of?” Wels shrugged and turned towards Biffa. “They don’t keep me or anything. Scar’s shadow normally just flies me to the shadow temple and has me summon him. Then he picks up Paladin and leaves me in the temple. The first couple of times Paladin tried to fight Scar’s shadow, but lately, he seems more begrudging about it. He doesn’t actively fight Scar’s shadow anymore.”

While Wels was talking, Biffa cut his own piece from a cake. “Have the Vex shadows died much?”

“I don’t think so. They can’t talk very well and also act kind of, animalistic isn’ really the right word.” Wels made a motion with his hands as he tried to think. “They act very instinctually. Base urges and all that. Dragons would probably be a pretty apt comparison.”

Biffa gave Wels a questioning look through another mouthful of cake. 

The knight took his fork and poked at the cake while he continued to talk. “They have a literal hoard, inside Scar’s volcano. They’ve basically kicked him out of it at this point. I think Scar has snuck in there a few times and he says that there are literally piles of diamond and gold and emerald blocks.”

“How did Scar, of all people, get in there, get out, and proceed to tell the story?” Biffa’s voice clearly conveyed his disbelief.

Wels snorted at his friend’s incredulous tone. “I don’t think he got out alive. Still, I’m scared to think of what could happen if Scar’s and Cub’s shadows got stronger, smarter. I know what Scar’s shadow has died a couple of times. And every time, Cub’s shadow made Scar resummon his shadow.”

Biffa smirked. “I doubt threats would work on Cub.”

“And you’d be right.” Wels looked away from Biffa and towards the moon that was climbing into the night sky. 

“Cub’s shadow has only died twice once. The second time it did, Scar’s shadow dragged Cub off to the shadow temple and tried to get him to resummon his friend. Paladin was there too, but Cub refused to summon his shadow and Scar’s shadow killed him in a rage. A few weeks later, Cub finally resummoned his shadow because Scar’s shadow was, I guess lost, is the best way to put it.”

That drew Biffa’s attention. Wels continued to talk towards the ocean.

“For the first few days, he was livid. He attacked everyone but Paladin on sight. He broke a few buildings as well. After that, he apparently refused to leave the hoard and buried himself in his riches. Paladin eventually went to talk to Cub and managed to convince him to resummon his shadow for half a stack of diamonds blocks because Paladin couldn’t stand Scar’s shadow sulking for any longer. Cub agreed and went with Paladin to summon his shadow with an empty inventory. His shadow killed him on sight. A couple of days later, a chest with half a stack of diamond blocks showed up on the ConCorp front lawn along with a note that said: “From Shiny”.”

After Wel finished talking, he took a bite of his cake, waiting for Biffa to say something. When his friend doesn’t speak, Wels sighs. 

“We have two shadows that are codependent hoarders, one that enjoys torturing people, several that just enjoy causing chaos, and one whose only goal seems to be gaining as much power as quickly as possible.”

Biffa could tell that that comment was aimed at him. At Apex.

“There are three, maybe four shadows that could be considered beneficial, and I don’t think I would 1 out of 5 a success.”

A moment later, Biffa asked, “Who are the beneficial shadows?”

“What?” Wels looked back at his friend, genuinely caught off guard by the question.

Biffa repeated his question. “Who are the beneficial shadows?”

As Wels stared at him, Biffa took another bite of cake. He had asked a question, and now he wanted an answer.

“Um, the main one is Murmur, Mumbo’s shadow. He’s probably the only one who could actually be described as helpful. The other ones would be Doc’s shadow, Killjoy, and Chill.” 

Biffa raised an eyebrow at the name “Killjoy” and smiled when Wels snorted at his expression. 

“Doc’s shadow is more scared than beneficial and Killjoy doesn’t like it when shadows mess with someone except their summoner, so he spends most of his time with Joe. And the Joe Hills Difference seems to be mildly contagious.” Wels laughed quietly at his own joke and Biffa smiled through another bite of cake. 

“Chill is more than happy to just, well Chill, most of the time. As long as she’s with Iskall’s shadow, she’s happy.”

The knight’s expression fell again, and he took another bite of cake and spoke through it.

“I don’t know, Biffa. The shadows are meant to be a way to duplicate items, but I don’t know if the damage they cause is worth it.”

The two were quiet for a moment, eating cake with the moon still rising in the sky.

Biffa swallowed his bite a cake past the lump in his throat and began to speak.

“I think-”

But he was quickly cut off as a neon blue shape grabbed Wels off the blanket and took off over the ocean. Biffa immediately stood up and put on his elytra. Even at the current distance, Biffa could see that the flying figure was holding Wels by what looked like the wrist. As he lit firework after firework to take off, he watched the figure let go of Wels, still over the water.

---

Wels gasped for air as he got the wind knocked out of him. Scar’s shadow had dropped the knight and grabbed him again to get a better grip. Now, he was being held under the armpits instead of by the arm. As a result, his head was right near the Vex’s. And Scar’s shadow was visibly distraught.

Neon blue tears were leaking from its eyes and ambiently around it, it sounded like someone had set a radio from static. Wels could see several bright blue gashes on the shadow’s arms.

“They’re gone.” 

The shadow spoke and caught Wels off guard. “What?” 

The shadow’s grip tightened around the knight’s chest. But it didn’t seem aggressive or even intentional.

“The hoard was… They’re…” The shadow seemed frustrated with its inability to speak. Normally it wasn’t an issue, as Cub’s shadow would finish the sentences. But Cub’s shadow wasn’t there to finish the sentences. 

“Were you attacked?” 

This wasn’t the first trans-oceanic flight, but on none of the others did the shadow strike up a conversation. Before it was almost professional, like Wels was just a step necessary to retrieving Paladin. 

“Yes. Shiny is gone. Avarice is gone. Everything…”

“Who is Shiny? Who is Avarice?” When Wels had asked Cub about his experiences with his own shadow, he had mentioned a note from someone named Shiny. But Wels had never heard of someone named Avarice.

The shadow was quiet for a moment. When it spoke there were long pauses as it tried to find the words it wanted. “You… are Shiny. But not… you. Avarice is… is… Avarice is…”

The shadow was even more distraught now. Wels rested his hand over one of the shadow’s in a show that he hoped was placating.

It must have worked, as the shadow finished its sentence. 

“Avarice is… my brother.”

Wels finally connected that dots that Shiny must be Paladin. And that meant that Avarice was…

“Is Avarice Cub’s shadow?”

Scar’s shadow didn’t speak but did nod its head. 

“Do you have a name?”

“Keloid.” 

If the shadow hadn’t been crying, Wels almost would have said that it sounded proud to have a name.

“That’s a nice name. Who gave it to you?”

It was a long pause before Keloid spoke, and Wels guessed that the pause was to think of what to say.

“Hills gave to Shiny. While ago. Shiny gave to me and us.”

Joe had given Paladin the ideas for the Vex names and Paladin had given those names to the Vex.

Wels watched the ocean below pass for a moment. The shadow was flying faster than Wels bet anyone had ever gone on elytra. Even with the small conversation, Keloid seemed to have calmed down and the buzzing noise had gotten quieter.

“Keloid, are you going to be alright?”

When Keloid spoke, he sounded very small.

“I can’t be alone. Not again.”

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: The Greatest Kingdom

Hello, glorious RWBY fandom! It’s that time of the year again. No, not the holidays. Rather, it’s the roughly twelve weeks where my Saturdays are lost to the void of churning out 4,000+ words of typo-laden analysis for our favorite web-series. Does that sound like a good time? If so, stick around and keep reading.

Now, those of you who joined us last year will recall that I took issue with numerous aspects of Volume Six. Many of you are capable of summarizing these aspects in great detail considering that the conversation never stopped on my blog between January 26th and, well, today. But for those of you who don’t otherwise suffer my metas or who might be joining us for the first time, here’s a very short guide to the stuff we’ve been chatting about the last few months:

Holy shit they really went all in on dragging Ozpin, huh?

Is the group part of a collective consciousness now? What happened to diverse thinking?

Should un-licensed teenagers steal military property and start grimm-drawing battles with national allies? No or double no?

We hate adults? Is that really a thing?

When will Oscar’s on-screen development come back from the war?

There are numerous, numerous other connected topics, from Rooster Teeth’s handling of physical assault all the way to theories regarding the relic’s potential influence and Jinn’s motives, but that’s the basic gist. Oh, and we now have a subset of the fandom who got big mad over fans headcanoning trans!Nora based on her new color scheme. ... So that’s where we’re starting this volume off.

Just so we’re all on the same page:

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Anyhoo, with that bare-bones context out of the way, let’s dive in.

We begin, as usual, with a shot of the shattered moon. Except this is the first volume where we know precisely what happened to it and all it may mean for humanity. It lends a certain amount of gravitas to our start. Now, rather than the more generic, “Ah. Right. That motif. Still a mystery, huh?” shots of the moon function as a quick reminder of the group’s new stakes. 99% of the time the focus is on Salem and our heroes’ attempts to keep this genocidal dictator from destroying and/or enslaving the entire world, but “The Lost Fable” set up that the true, end-game antagonists have always been the gods. Even if Salem is destroyed, they still exist as a continued threat to humanity. If they wish to use the gods to help them in their quest against Salem, they likewise risk their judgment. Having introduced them, that’s a tricky problem the show is going to have to solve before its end.

For now though we pan down to the Atlas military, numerous ships and lots of chatter over the radio setting up precisely how massive, organized, and deadly this army is. I would like to remind everyone that this is what the group deliberately decided to piss off by not merely stealing an airship, but unnecessarily attacking the head special operative of the Argus base. The fact that the military has grown more “aggressive” in Weiss’ absence has no bearing on her original knowledge that stealing/attacking this group would be a horrendous idea. She knew it. Qrow knew it. Everyone ignored that in favor of Jaune’s idiotic plan. I bring this up not to rub more salt in a long open wound, but to re-establish how the group is, thus far, unable to think ahead and accurately weigh the consequences of their actions. More on that later.

Their ship, Manta 5-1, is welcomed home and instructed to land so that a security team can debrief them. Whoops. Jaune, again in his infinite wisdom, reminds everyone that they achieved their goal of getting to Atlas. So now they just need to find some answers, yeah? Not quite. Weiss immediately points out that landing with a stolen ship means that security won’t let them anywhere near Ironwood… which, again, is something that holds true regardless of whether the military got more aggressive and their leader more dictator-y. This is not new information. Oddly enough, a group of teenagers with only one licensed huntsmen among them (considering that Maria is presumably still keeping a low profile) flying a stolen airship doesn’t exactly breed the sort of confidence that lets anyone---paranoid or not---approach a leader. These were all issues from the start that the group didn’t bother to consider in their haste to finish this mission.

“They might even take me back to my father,” Weiss says. Another concern that they’re only realizing now, yet one that the fandom latched onto immediately. Though mostly in the wrong way. It’s because Jacques is a threat that they should have found a more covert way into Atlas, or waited to hear from Ironwood, or just send Weiss herself with Cordovin’s blessing… Yes, much of the fandom got quite defensive at that suggestion, claiming that sending Weiss “alone” (she never would have been alone. Bird uncle. Fits into a suitcase grandma) was tantamount to handing her to Jacques wrapped up in a bow. Except, as is made perfectly clear here, it’s their illegal activity that endangers them. Which is more likely to get you sent off to daddy? Acting like a child by stealing military property and then getting caught? Or entering Atlas as a huntress with a special operative’s blessing, carrying instructions that you are to meet with Ironwood as soon as possible? To say the team dropped the ball on this one is an understatement.

Those, however, are all past options now far out of reach. Weiss decides then that she’ll simply call Winter and I absolutely adore Kara’s voice acting here. She managed to imbue so much into a single name, conveying Weiss’ realization, hope, and love for her sister in just two quick syllables. I feel like I got more insight into Weiss through that moment alone then the entirety of Volume Six. Only problem? Blake notices another feed where a recording of Winter emphasizes that anyone found breaking Atlas law will face punishment---something our group will be quite familiar with by the end of the episode---and Qrow decides that they probably shouldn’t go charging into Winter and Ironwood’s hands until they know more about the situation.

Which is the smartest decision we’ve seen in a while, considering that Ironwood’s own feed leaves little to the imagination. He continues to sport that beard, giving him more of a disheveled appearance compared to Volumes 1-3. His voice is as authoritative as ever and he literally towers high above all the people he’s supposedly protecting, keeping his distance from both the city and the airships that ‘govern’ it. A few moments earlier we got to see the startling contrast between the military life and the civilians’. Warm reds and browns give (in this case a literal) down-to-Earth feel and the neon signs are easy markers of a low-class neighborhood. You know the stereotyped kind: cheap food and cheaper entertainment. Compared to the whites and blues of the Atlas clouds, paralleling their elite (and thereby expensive) technology, the city below feels like a slum in comparison, reinforced by the dirty, drunk, and at times violent background characters that populate it. 

As Maria says later, “A home in the clouds is as bright as it gets,” to which Nora responds, “Unless you’re the one having to look up at it,” something she’d be very familiar with as a child stealing bread in the otherwise plentiful looking Kuroyuri. There are contrasts in coloring, dialogue, as well as framing here. Compare Ironwood’s sky-high observation to Pietro’s existence as a black man, in a wheelchair, doing volunteer work in what’s established as a dump. He’s as “low” as he can possibly be and acknowledges that he prefers to actually be among the people, not standing literally or figuratively above them. Just in case the audience misses these cues, we get some rather ominous music on top of all that and fearful looks between Ruby and Yang.

Ironwood’s recording says that some people may view these as “uncertain times,” likewise contrasting Glynda’s recording in the very first episode, announcing that they live in an “extraordinary time of peace.” Whether there’s uncertainty or not, Ironwood promises that Atlas will remain “safe and strong,” even if the other Kingdoms have begun to falter. The speech has a very ‘Us vs. Them’ quality about it.

“He looks tired,” Ruby comments and I just need to chuck another fandom into the mix real quick because:

Under these circumstances, “tired” doesn’t just require the John Mulaney advice of, “Get some rest, tall child!” It’s a clear dig at the leader’s capabilities and even their mental faculties. “James… what have you been doing?” Qrow asks, thereby re-framing “tired” as the nice euphemism for “gone off the deep end.” It remains to be seen though precisely how much of Ironwood’s paranoia is literal paranoia in the sense that it’s illogical and undeserved, and how much of these changes are highly undesirable, but potentially justifiable decisions. After all, we as the audience know precisely how dangerous Salem and her crew are. We know why Beacon fell. We’re privy to the stakes in a way that the average, angry Atlas citizen is not. All Ironwood can do in the face of such odds is try to prepare for every eventuality… it just looks like he’s reached a point where those preparations have started infringing on basic human rights. It’s a very sad setup. A classic case of the wrong things done for the right reasons.

There’s a check-in from the radio tower, whoever’s in charge wondering why Manta 1-5 hasn’t gone towards their landing pad yet. Maria comments that the lady should take a hint and starts finding a different place to land. Which in hindsight is kind of funny because they obviously did take a hint… and then sent out a special team to deal with the implications of that hint.

As the group starts exploring we get a lovely shot demonstrating how much they stand out in this new environment.

Though there’s some color in the neon signs, the otherwise overwhelming brown/beige/black/red makes elements like Nora’s pink skirt and Weiss’ white hair stick out like sore thumbs. As we’ll see in a minute, there are obviously in-world difficulties with them passing as average citizens, but it’s also a signal to the audience that, for now at least, they’re really out of their depth. This is the “greatest kingdom” referenced in our title. 

Maria is leading them to a friend of hers when a bot takes an interest in these obvious outsiders. It approaches Yang at the back of the group, takes an unexpected picture, and she responds by kicking it into the street where it sparks with damage before getting hit by a truck.

(Flashback to Ruby and Penny, anyone?)

Now, I’m honestly on the fence about this moment. You could make the case that they’re all traumatized fighters and responding to that flash was a logical, instinctual response. You can even argue that, just hours after taking her first faunus life, Yang is more than a little on edge—even though the premier doesn’t reference this incredibly significant event at all, outside of Blake’s quick realization that her blade is still broken. Both are valid and easily supported readings. However, I’m still hyper aware that this is Yang. The character who, for two volumes now, has been characterized very strongly by her, “attack first, ask questions later” attitude. Out of all the characters we could have seen instinctively attacking something that hadn’t actually done her any harm, choosing Yang holds the most weight. The story also lightly acknowledges that this was an extreme response, what with the group staring at her and Yang’s sheepish expression.

Whether it’s specifically in the context of trauma over the fight with Adam, or more broadly acknowledging Yang’s tendency to both assume and act on the worst in people, I hope this volume helps her manage these instincts. One talk with Tai about not punching through problems isn’t going to cut it. Especially when her forceful attitude has caused much of the internal conflict recently. 

It’s after this that the group is accosted by a drunk man, functioning largely as exposition to explain what’s been going on in Atlas and why the people are so scared and angry about it. Pissed enough to get literally pissed, of the inebriated variety. Here then, we return to the “this group of teenagers is really bad at thinking ahead” issue that I mentioned earlier. Ruby is all ready to start a fight---referencing her newfound willingness to escalate situations that don’t necessitate escalation---and it’s Blake who holds her back, reminding Ruby that they can’t afford to cause a scene. Which is fantastic. Except they end up causing a scene anyway when the drunk calls Blake a “stupid faunus” and Weiss uses a glyph to chuck him into the trash.

Is seeing a racist asshole get his just desserts extremely satisfying? Absolutely and from a representation perspective I’m thrilled to see Rooster Teeth taking a hard stance in their story. From an in-world perspective though, that was an incredibly bad decision. We’ve been establishing since minute one of this premier that the group needs to be cautious. Blake herself, the victim here, just told Ruby not to endanger the whole group by defending her honor… and then Weiss swoops in to do it anyway. There are two priorities here, to your friends and to your mission, and the issue is that Team RWBY has a tendency to consistently prioritize the former, something that wouldn’t be an issue if this was still a low-key story about a group of students and not would-be, formal huntresses trying to save the world. The choice to attack rather than walking away---paralleling last volume’s final battle---speaks to their inability to think ahead and weigh their priorities. “It was worth it,” Weiss says, but is it? Now that you’ve caused the scene that you couldn’t afford? Now that this guy recognized your glyphs and you’ve blown your cover? I realize I’ll probably get heat for this, but there’s a difference between calling out micro-aggressions in everyday life and calling them out when you’re fugitives trying to keep an invaluable relic safe. It would have said more about the group’s maturity if Blake had succeeded in avoiding a scene and they expressed anger/sympathy among themselves that she had to put up with that shit. Throwing guys into dumpsters is satisfying as hell, but it’s not the action of a level-headed adult conducting a job.

Provided that the story actually acknowledges how young they are and that it’s expected they make such mistakes, we’re golden. As it is though, these issues are usually brushed aside. Later Maria says that Pietro “likes to keep a low profile. Something I’m coming to realize you know nothing about,” but it’s said in a joking, fond manner. This isn’t treated as an actual flaw and is therefore not set up as something for the team to work on. And that, right there, is the heart of the conflict between RWBYJNR and Ozpin. He’s a fine scalpel. They’re a sledgehammer. RWBY continually introduces threats that require a delicate touch---whether it’s the possibility of spies in your midst that force you to carefully monitor who has what information, or needing to move through a city without drawing attention to yourself---these battles require a certain level of strategy and without fail our heroes are characterized as people who can only solve their problems through direct, immediate violence. You don’t walk away from a fight. Ever. Be it Cordovin or a racist drunk. The more I see of their behavior, no matter the good intentions behind it, the more it makes sense to me that Ozpin lied and kept his secrets. Our heroes simply don’t have the patient, level-headed, forward-thinking personalities required to fight this kind of delicate war. Their talent lies in the hack-’em slash-’em situations. 

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. The group runs from the guards that show up after the drunk guy incident and they manage to make it to Pietro’s place. After some fun dialogue about whether he remembers Maria and the state of his shop, we get a potential explanation for Maria’s strange behavior on the train. Everyone remember this?

Obviously the camera focusing on Maria helps us, the audience, realize that she’s a character who will eventually become important to the story, but it’s also a bit coincidental that she’s hanging out near Team RWBY’s room. Especially when she inexplicably ends up on the back half of the train when everyone else was evacuated. It was clear at the time that she’d deliberately stayed back, but to what purpose no one was sure. Here, Maria gives a general answer about how she thought this group might have needed her guidance while fighting all those manticores… which is still an odd explanation to my mind. Because up until her confession leaving the farmhouse, Maria wants to keep that low-profile. She’s done with being the Grimm Reaper, so why get involved now? Especially when, with hired huntsmen to protect the train and a large group of teens with their own weapons, she probably would have assumed they were all in good hands? Even if it was just a fighter’s natural instinct to help, what would that guidance have looked like? Pretending to be a normal, formal huntress lending a hand where she can? Admitting she’s the Grimm Reaper? Is she still able to fight? There’s still the highly coincidental nature that Maria, the greatest huntress of a generation, just happened to be traveling the same route as and randomly became interested in the group involved with Salem, gods, and the relics.

To be clear, I’m not really arguing that there’s some big conspiracy surrounding Maria. Coincidences are common in all fiction because if things happened based on real-life probability, it would all be pretty boring. Rather, I’m simply pointing out that between losing her eyes as a young adult and coincidentally getting involved with Team RWBY now, we pretty much have no idea what Maria has been up to for most of her life. If the story wanted to establish some sort of betrayal/trickery/what-have-you, there’s room for it.

That would make me super sad though. I quite like Maria.

We learn more about Ironwood’s increasing paranoia, a hint that not everyone on the council is happy with his changes---that mysterious woman we keep seeing on the posters, perhaps?---and the acknowledgement that whoever helped bring down Atlas’ tech at Beacon has to be “Either a genius, or one of our own.” Probably both. Enter Watts, seen typing at a computer in our opening.

With all this info bearing down on them, a few characters like Jaune and Oscar start asking whether they can just leave and yes, please tackle that, because it’s a very important question. Right now the show has stalled the, “Will the group continue the fight against Salem and what’s their reasoning for doing so when they all think it’s pointless?” question by throwing up another roadblock with the relic. They got it to Atlas, but they’re not sure they can hand it off to Ironwood yet, which just leaves them twiddling their thumbs. That portion of the quest isn’t technically complete yet, putting off an answer as to whether and why they’ll go onto the next portion. We need to tackle the group’s new motivations though. Soon. I sincerely hope that when Ironwood announces he has a way of defeating Salem, we finally get the group challenging their own assertions that such attempts are fundamentally useless. We had a whole volume of, “Oh no. Oh god. Salem is immortal and all our work is for naught.” We need at least a little attention paid to the development of a new perspective to counteract that.

Before things can get too bleak though, Pietro recognizes Weiss as a Schnee. Yang, in a lovely moment of support, desperately tries to re-direct the conversation back to the council. Pietro then recognizes her arm, puts it all together to get Team RWBY, and drops the loaded comment, “My daughter has told me so much about you.”

Many fans saw it coming. Even more hoped for it. Honestly? I think that’s great. Too many shows nowadays rely on “twists” that don’t actually make sense, or even undermine the original setup. Those are frustrating beyond belief and feel like the authors are selling out good story for cheap, undesired shock value. The fandom saw Penny’s resurrection coming a mile away? Great! That just means Rooster Teeth did a good job of setting up that possibility and then following through on it.

I’ll talk more about Penny’s introduction in a moment, but first I just want to throw out that I legitimately enjoyed the fight scene. Good action and creative teamwork at times. I particularly liked Weiss and Ren working together to take down four grimm in as many seconds. Oscar likewise takes a grimm out with a very impressive strike… more impressive than I was expecting from him, honestly. Right now I suppose I’m just inclined to shrug that off with, “He and Ozpin are slowly merging, so he picks up stuff way faster than everyone else,” most notably Jaune. Also, I’ll be blunt. I wouldn’t touch canon-based rosegarden with a ten-foot pole. You know, because of all the issues like a massive age difference, two minor characters involved, questions of consent, the fact that Ruby was Ozpin’s student---pesky ethical concerns like that. AUs though? I think the ship is adorable. Provided that Oscar is fully his own person and there’s consent on both sides appropriate for whatever ages they currently are in your fic or fanart? Very nice. So, it’s for those fans that I point out an entirely coincidental parallel: Ruby saves Oscar from a grimm with a bullet in nearly the exact same manner that Blake saves Yang from a grimm with a bullet. Make of that what you will.

Back to Penny though. Overall, am I thrilled that she’s back? Absolutely. I actually spoke about this recently while answering an ask, expressing how much I’d enjoy this very scenario: having her consciousness saved and thus allowing for her resurrection. Do I think her new look is adorable? Yes, yes I do. “And yet,” you say, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, Clyde.” Yeah. Sadly there is. Because although I’m happy to have Penny, I wasn’t particularly taken with how they re-introduced her.

Simply put, there was far too much humor for what should have been a touching, emotional scene. With the exception of one moment where Ruby tries to voice the word “killed,” everyone treats Penny’s resurrection as a surprising, but not terribly notable event. Yang, Weiss, and Blake express a sort of long-suffering fondness as they comment on how wholesome this is. Pietro laughs at any shock over her “death” and shrugs about how yeah, it technically was. Whatever. Qrow takes the time to nonchalantly say that things are going better than he expected. Ruby is holding it all together with barely a blink. Penny herself is nothing but exuberance and funny dialogue. Maria cracks a joke about how she has no idea who this child is. Jaune goes, “Well, that was unexpected” as if Penny had showed up in Atlas when they all thought she was in Vacuo. That sort of surprise. The whole thing is treated flippantly with, “Never a dull moment.” Summarized, all this really isn’t the appropriate reaction to realizing a friend is no longer dead.

Yes, Ruby was the closest to Penny by far---we can’t expect everyone to get misty-eyed---but does everyone remember what her death was like? It was the turning point of the entire series, not just for the audience, but the characters as well. Penny was the first casualty of the Fall of Beacon and her death was appropriately gut wrenching. It was then shown across every TV turned to the Vytal Festival, the moment where the whole world watched their golden girl, Pyrrha, unintentionally murder a newcomer who turned out to be a robot. Moments later grimm start attacking and the safest place on Remnant is destroyed. Penny’s death heralded all that. The one time we see Ruby tackling the trauma of it all is when she speaks with Oscar and, notably, crumbles a bit when she instinctively uses Penny’s catch phrase.

What I had hoped for was the group grappling with the sudden, completely unexpected shock of getting one of two losses back; working through the knowledge that their lives have been defined by two friends’ death and now one of those has been retroactively erased. Perhaps we’ll see that in future episodes, but right now it feels like a disservice to the impact Penny’s death had on the characters and the story to treat this as such a comic, light-hearted moment. Let Penny tackle-hug Ruby and then let Ruby give her a much more sincere embrace. Let her cry. Have Yang put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, giving her a look that expresses how she understands what this means to her. Have Jaune looking away, devastated that Ruby miraculously got her friend back, but such an event is impossible for Pyrrha. Let him or Oscar or Ren or anyone seriously acknowledge that, holy shit, this is a joyous occasion we never expected to experience. We’ve spent months dealing with trauma and pessimism, now here’s Penny, reminding us that there’s still so much good in the world. Have someone acknowledge that sometimes the impossible happens (cough-defeatingSalem-cough). You can allow the moment to function as the momentous occasion it is and then lighten the mood by having Maria announce that she has no idea what’s going on.

This isn’t the first time Rooster Teeth has implemented comedy when they were better off sticking with drama. See: the choice to animate punching Ozpin last volume in an absurd, cartoon style. So yeah. Happy to have Penny back, but that first moment felt underwhelming, to say the least.

We then have an admittedly very cool shot—

— (semblance? Just awesome drama?) right before the group is taken out in seconds by Atlas’ elite. They’re… I don’t know how to spell their name yet. Is it something like Ace-Ops for elite special operations? Or Aesop like Aesop’s fables? Potentially both? Idk. The fandom will figure that out in the next day or so, if they haven’t already. What’s important though is that this group charges our team with stealing an airship, illegally entering the city with it, and starting an unauthorized fight in the streets. If I could just take one second to…

Ahem. I’m good. Seriously though, if I’m at all optimistic for Volume Seven it’s because the story is finally acknowledging that the group made some pretty massive mistakes last volume. Not that it looks like there will be much punishment attached to that. Between them meeting with Ironwood in the trailer and the Blah-Blah-Ops’ clear status as heroes this volume (they’re in the opening a bunch and seem to be working with RWBYJNR), I’m not yet convinced that this arrest will lead to anything other than getting precisely what they want: seeing Ironwood. To be clear, it’s not like I want the group languishing in jail for twelve episodes. That would be one hell of a boring volume. But rather, I’m interested in whether the story will continue to imply that Atlas is in the right for arresting them, or whether Episode Two will quickly turn that on its head and forcefully announce, as they did in Volume Six, that these actions are an egregious insult because we’re the protagonists. How dare you not let us do whatever we want?

Because the group was in the wrong here. It can be easy to miss considering that the rules they’re refusing to obey are tied up in a dictator-like society---aren’t we the heroes for ignoring and circumventing evil Ironwood’s laws?---but what they actually choose to do has far more of an impact on innocent civilians than it does on The Man. Like endangering all of Argus with your needless battle. Or, to a much smaller extent here, jumping into a fight when you’re not authorized to do that. Now, I actually don’t blame RWBYJNR for that one. They are huntsmen and it’s their job to protect the people. Going out to defeat grimm is 100% their thing. Rather, I’m talking about stuff like their commentary on Atlas’ defenses. When the fight starts we get, “I guess the city’s defenses aren’t doing much” and “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” It’s more of that, “Us huntsmen are the only true defenders of the world. Your attempts with robots would be funny if it weren’t so dangerous” attitude. It’s a certain level of arrogance. As we see just a minute later though, Ironwood’s setup works. Because the civilians all know to get indoors. Because he has Penny. The robots hold off the grimm until she arrives, defeating the rest with a speed and an ease that frankly doesn’t compare to what we saw the group accomplishing. She does from above what it took nine of them to manage, often (as we saw with Oscar and Yang) with great danger to them in the process. When they’re bound and accused of unauthorized fighting, it’s clear that they were, in fact, shouldering their way into a situation where they weren’t needed---and potentially causing trouble in the process. Rules exist for a reason. Are they always perfect? Far from it, but in the characterization folding over from Volume Six, the group has forgotten that most of the time rules are there for others’ safety. They have been thought out. This particular situation is easily defendable (of course they’re going to go fight grimm) and there were no consequences to the group jumping in when they weren’t allowed (like property damage or injured civilians), but this moment does function as a good representation of the overall problem. Just because there weren’t consequences for saying, “Screw your laws” this time doesn’t mean there won’t be in the future. Or that there hasn’t been in the past.

It likewise stands out to me that Qrow consistently tires to use his “I’m a licensed huntsmen” as a justification. He flashes it at the two goons on the train to get them to back off. He tires to use it to get past Cordovin. He now tells his captors that he has every right to fight and protect the people because of this card he carries. Qrow is well aware of how important the status of a huntsmen is in this world… yet he’s running around with eight fighters who don’t have that legal backing. I don’t think the show would ever go for my suggestion of another school arc so they could finish their training, but at the very least we should provide some sort of loop-hole for these characters. Have Ironwood provide special licenses based on their heroics at the Fall of Beacon and their work since. Because right now we have a world that’s continually emphasizing being a huntsmen as a job, something you earn the right to call yourself, yet 95% of our group doesn’t have that right in the eyes of their society. We know they’ve done great, secret work to protect the people. But the people only know that these are a bunch of teens with one year of formal training. So you really can’t blame any officials for going, “Sorry. We’re not in the habit of letting random people with weapons cross our borders. Or fight in our streets.” It’s like if a bunch of 14-18yos arrived at a crime scene with guns and demanded that they be let in on a case. No, we never graduated from an academy, but you should adhere to our demands anyway. The good intentions are there, but you need to iron out the formalities first. 

Really, RWBY should just fix the whole license thing with a throw-away plot point if they’re not going to tackle it seriously, just so this isn’t an ethical issue anymore. I’d rather smooth it over soon since the story doesn’t seem interested in tackling whether a group with one year of formal training should be allowed that status. So just give it to them and let’s move on. They might still run into issues with Atlas, but at least the rest of the world won’t be expected to trust them purely on faith. Not everyone belongs to a small town terrorized by a geist, with four random teens as your only option for safety.

Which finally, as the doors close on our group with heavy heads, brings us to the opening. Some things to pay attention to:

1. We get a glimpse of that mysterious woman shown in numerous posters across the city. 

(I’m likewise interested in the very long shot we got on this “show your teeth” graffiti.) 

2. Watts and Tyrian are presented as primary antagonists. Interesting that Neo and Cinder aren’t there (not that I caught anyway), especially since we know they were heading to Atlas last volume as well. It makes me think that they’ll be the true threat at the end of the volume. Keeping things quiet, even in the intro, so we have no chance of guessing their plan.

3. The main conflict seems to be between Weiss and Winter, as opposed to Weiss and Jacques as many originally assumed. Those expressions don’t bode well.

4. We still see an image of Ironwood briefly flickering to Jacques though as an angry citizen throws a rock at it. Implying Jacques is secretly pulling the strings? James has simply become too much like him? We’ll have to see.

5. We get a shot of Oscar and Ironwood… training? Fighting? I’m inclined to say fighting based on his and Ozpin’s past difficulties, but that’s also up in the air.

6. The image of our staff…

…and 7. an absolutely massive cast this volume. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m concerned with RWBY’s insistence on continually introducing so many new characters, particularly characters who are important enough to warrant decent development. There simply isn’t time for them all.

(Although, is Maria in that shot? Wonder if she’ll leave the group now that she’s done her duty of helping Ruby out with her eyes.) 

Which brings us to the end of the premier! Finally, I’d like to end with a personal note. As is quite obvious, I’m still watching and recapping RWBY, but I feel like I should be upfront about my overall lack of investment in the series right now. Chock it up to getting burned last volume, fading interest in a long-running show, just growing up and changing… I don’t claim to know precisely why I’m no longer jazzed about a new volume like I once was. But, if I perhaps appear overly critical of what I generally thought was a good—and honestly better than expected—premier? That’s probably why. The details just don’t cut it for me anymore. All caps, screaming excitement over Penny’s return or Qrow’s new outfit just doesn’t resonate much, which leaves me with a more critical perspective on the show overall. So if that’s something you’re interested in, stick around because, baring unforeseen circumstances, there will be more metas over the next three or so months. More invested in a flailing celebration of RWBY as a whole? You’re better off hitting up another blog.  

Basically, you know that shot in Pietro’s?

Note the “Days since our last nonsense” sign combined with the defeated expressions. That’s what RWBY feels like to me these days. A lot of nonsense and limited enjoyment. Ah well. Maybe Volume Seven will prove me wrong and I’ll be re-invigorated by the end of the season!

Until then, ❤️️

Minor Things of Note

Maria refers to the group as “kids” in the airship and Penny as a “child.” Acknowledging last year’s debate, I stand by the argument that just because many (but not all) of the group have reached the age of maturity in our world doesn’t mean they’re on par with the adults they were so recently rejecting. There’s a reason why the very old Maria naturally uses “kid” and “child” and it doesn’t come off as weird.

I really like the design of Pietro’s chair. Giving him something that walks on four legs is both different and a nice nod to nature among all the tech. Also, kudos to the Pinocchio reference on his bookshelf in the form of a whale.

Nora remains as adorable as ever. I particularly liked her energy in Pietro’s and her high-key annoyance at Ren getting a jump on the fight. I’m interested in what we’ll be learning about her this volume. 

Not sure I’m a fan of Rooster Teeth using these squeaky toy noises whenever the group is comically surprised by something. Comedy is great, we need it in this story, but sound effects like that are remnants (ha) of a tone we haven’t really seen since Volume 1. I think the show can still get away with exaggerated facial expressions---Nora in her excitement, Ruby laughing at Jaune’s Pumpkin Pete’s sweatshirt---but this feels a bit out of place now.

“Maybe Atlas isn’t as safe as we thought” and yet, astoundingly, no one is inclined to ask Ozpin to weigh in on this. Even now that they know he’s listening. I think I’ll start a tally. See how many episodes it takes to actually acknowledge, let alone act on, the primary conflict of Volume 6.

Image Credit

Personal screenshots from RWBY 

Transflag: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Transgender_Pride_flag.svg

Doctor Who GIF: https://tenor.com/view/doctor-who-tired-harriet-jones-gif-5627138

How I Met Your Mother GIF: https://giphy.com/gifs/celebrate-2o5Ypf4fP6ahq

[drewbabie]

SPOP Pride Exchange

@sconefacedgirl @spop-pride-exchange

Hello!!! I made a fanfic for you for the exchange! Sorry it doesn’t fit into all of your genres that you wanted it to be. I tried my best and it was a bit rushed. I hope you enjoy it anyway!! (BTW if I posted this a day early, it’s mostly because I live in Australia and we probably have different timezones) 

ROADTRIP/RUNAWAY AU

The morning sun shone brightly over the horizon and greeted the hills with a warm smile. It was exactly 23 days since Adora and Catra left the town for a sort of cheesy “find-our-passion-and-explore-the-country” roadtrip. Mainly it was because the townspeople were too aggressive on the two girls’ relationship. It’s too long a tale to tell, but they escaped with each other. And that’s what matters to them.

Adora looked over at the sleeping girl next to her. They slept in the car at a small tourist stop which was just a lookout over the mountains. It was a bit cold, but they held out fine. “Good morning, Catra.” Was all Adora’s sleepy voice managed to whisper. Catra rolled over as she started to wake up. “Ugh...It’s too early...can’t we just stay here?”

Adora sighed, both in awe at her girlfriend but also because she was fed up with her oversleeping. “The only reason why you’re so tired is because you had too many beers last night.” The blonde girl sat up on the folded over carseat. She rubbed her eyes slightly. “Only...like...four.” Catra yawned and stretched. “Pfft...alright. So care to explain why there’s literally 10 cans on the floor?” Adora teased.

Catra rolled over and tried to pull the warm blanket over her face. Catra groaned as Adora pulled the blanket down before she could fully cover her head and hair. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.” Adora kissed her head and pulled the blanket fully down. “Alright, alright. I’m gettin’ up.” Catra groaned again, followed by a small yawn.

“We’re almost out of gas, we need to find somewhere we can fill up. As well as breakfast.” Adora peered over at the steering wheel and slipped into her black leggings. “I heard there was a station nearby.” Catra rummeled through her clothes and found a maroon hoodie. “Good, I’m starving.”

-------

Adora was at the wheel, whilst Catra was frustratingly changing radio stations. Half were talk shows and the other were dumb, overrated music. She finally settled on Lua by Bright Eyes. It was peaceful, and Adora hummed to the lyrics. The road was stretched out, completely surrounded by trees as tall as giants. The lush green branches were waving slightly as the breeze gently shook them.

“I thought you said the station would be at least ten minutes away.” Catra pouted as she brushed her long brown hair. “It’s almost been ten minutes now, we’re gonna approach it soon.” The blue-eyed girl reminded the impatient doll next to her. Catra sighed and looked over at Adora. She was beautiful.

“Are we...ever going back to the town?” Catra asked. It felt like a lifetime ago when they sped off into the sunset just to escape the stupid, homophobic, fundamental Christian town...buncha bastards. “Catra...you know we can’t.” Adora sighed, even if that question annoyed her she kept her focus on the road despite two cars passing every five minutes. “We just can’t go back.”

Adora reflects what happened before they left. Bunch of fights, arguments, other bullshit. The blonde hates looking back. They made that decision to leave for good, no matter how hard life on the road was. Catra’s face fell slightly. “Sorry, did I make you mad?” Adora looks at Catra’s freckled cheeks and heterochromia eyes. “Not at all, sweetheart.”

They finally pull up at a service station. It looked pretty basic, there were some park benches outside, meaning they sell actual food, not just junk. A sigh of relief escaped Adora’s peach-coloured mouth. “Here we are.” Catra almost dozed off completely, everything was so quiet and peaceful. The car shook on the asphalt as Adora pulled into a stand and got out of the car to fill up.

Catra was worried about money more than Adora was. Did they have enough money for a full tank? For food? For motels to stay in? It was just too stressful for the cat-like teen. She wanted to keep both of them alive. No matter what. It feels like every drop of gas, every crumb of any food and one sip of water would cost too much for them.

The brown-haired girl got out of the car and headed towards the service station entrance. Adora saw this and one of her eyebrows lifted. “Uh, wildcat? Where ya goin’?” she asked. “Just going to look at what goods they got. Be right back.” Catra replied. Adora shrugged and got her wallet out from her red backpack. She rummaged through each pocket to find at least 2 fifty dollar bills.

Adora walked into the store and found Catra looking over at some snacks on the small aisles. She was very focused on the prices, Adora could tell. The blonde went to the counter to greet an old lady who was working at the counter. She seemed like the generic “sweet old lady” type, someone who was approachable. The lady noticed Adora and gave her a sweet smile.

“Filling up, dear?” she asked, her voice slightly croaky. Adora nodded and gave her two fifty dollar notes. “Are you on a road trip? Seems like it. You look very tired.” the lady continued, taking the money and putting it in the cash register. She gave the blonde some change, around 5 bucks. “Take as much as you need. I won’t charge you if need extra.” Adora looked up at her in slight shock. “A-are you sure?” Adora asked.

“Of course. I’m happy to help the travellers who I can tell have been on the road for a bit.” the old lady smiled sweetly. Adora thanked her. “Can we get some food as well?” The old lady looked back at her and glanced over at Catra who was still focused on the snacks and food in one of the aisles.

She glanced back at Adora. “Of course. Free of charge. Just five items though.” The lady said. Adora thanked her once again and went to spoke with Catra. Before she could open her mouth, Catra interrupted. “I heard the whole thing. I decided. Two iced coffees and a packet of chips as well as two custard buns.” Adora frowned a little bit. “Shouldn’t we get something that will last a bit longer?” she said. Catra just shrugged and said, “We can always find a shop or something. Maybe there’s a town nearby.” Adora sighed and paid for the items.

-----

It was nighttime now. Too dark to see anything. The two girls were perched on top of the car, looking at the clear, starry sky above. It was like they were the only two people left on the earth. The moon shone and gave the night its life and being.

“If we came back home, what do you think the town would say?” Adora asked the brunette. Catra glanced over at her, and back to the sky. Her arms were rested behind her head, supported by the car roof. “I don’t know.” She replied, “One thing I know, is that the friends we have...had...would probably just pretend they never knew us.”

Adora shook her head at this remark. “If that’s so, then why did you ask me if we could ever go back today?” Catra tried to ignore the question. She knows that Adora would think it’s stupid. Catra groaned. “Maybe it’s because I just miss home, you know?” Catra snapped.

“Maybe it’s because my family is there. It’s because the town is where I grew up. It’s my home, Adora. And we left because you decided it would be better for us.” Catra continued. Adora’s eyes widened. “Are you blaming me?” The brunette looked over at Adora. “I just wish we never left, okay? I wish we never decided that this was going to be an okay thing to do. Now we’re stuck in the middle of no-”

“Catra, I didn’t want those people to hurt us. If they found out about us, about how we’re together, then they’d send us to some shitty camp where we would never see each other again so that they could force us to be in a shitty relationship with some snot-nosed jock.” Adora ranted.

Catra sat up and looked down at her hands. She sobbed. Adora put her arm around Catra’s shoulders, pulling her closer to her body. “I realised something.” Catra said through tears. “We don’t need to go back. We don’t need to go back home.” Adora looked at Catra’s glistening eyes and listened. “It isn’t even our home anymore.”

The blonde was staring at her lips, yearning for her soft mouth to touch her own. Adora took Catra’s chin and turned it to face her. She kissed the cat-like girl, taking in her breath and keeping her even closer. Catra closed her eyes and kissed back, breathing heavily. Adora parted from her lips and whispered. “Catra, you are my home. Everywhere is home when I’m with you.” Adora gazed into Catra’s eyes and pulled her even closer.

“I belong here. With you.”

[all-the-kookies-fall]

A THEORY: Linear Timeline of reputation

This is going to be a very long read; but it may just include unlocking the 15 Taylor's from the LWYMMD MV so read on if you dare…

 (OK it totally includes the theory, please read and tell me what you think!)

An Introduction:

I've been a casual fan of Taylor Swift since she started. Loved all her radio singles, listened to her albums (at my leisure upon release), and admired her platform and brand image. I guess I became a huge fan after 1989, but around the release of reputation, I realized just how much this woman's music has been there throughout my life and decided to fully stan her. As I fell down the rabbit hole of  learning everything I could about TS as an artist, I became completely enamored with her wits & charms. However, the more I learned to love about her, the more I could feel just a slight inauthenticity; I was constantly thinking of the hypocrisy of how she "never names who her songs about" yet she created this scavenger hunt with her liner notes that seemed to point in an obvious direction of one of her "ex-boyfriends." It didn't align with how she presented herself in every other aspect. Then, I felldowntherabbithole for real and found all of the incredibly documented and organized realm of the Kaylor's, and everything was literally in screaming color.

reputation made even more sense with fresh Kaylor eyes and once I read this Taylor Swift quote: 

reputation, in my mind, is an album that is very linear in it’s timeline. Meaning that it kind of starts out where I was when I first started making the record. The album ends more where I am now in my life. So this is more towards the end of the album, it’s called ‘Call It What You Want.’

my mind became OBSESSED with cracking this code. I had combed through all the kaylor blogs and while I had read everything I could, I still couldn't place it within any timeline. Then, Delicate came out and the code started to crack; I could peek inside and make sense of something, but was still unsure what it was. I put together a loose concept which had some plot holes, but it was when I remembered to revisit the 15 Taylor theory that everything completely revealed itself.

  I would like to start with a disclaimer: I have never, ever actively participated more than lurking or even posted anything on Tumblr. I would like to fully acknowledge that there is a huge, fat chance none of this makes sense to anyone but me, but my husband was really getting fed up with me talking about it and I just needed to share. THANK YOUS to the Kaylor blogs I frequented with incredible analysis and POV of Tay in the media and her music-  @all-my-possessions​ @howyougetthenerd​  @jennyboom21 @karlitakloss​ @kaydar​ @kaylorrepdetective​ @larrienation​ @out-of-the-klosset​ @paradisekisses  @tallcurlygirl​ @taytaysbeard​ @that-curly-haired-lesbian @thoseflashinggreeneyes​ @whaler13bg​ to name a few. (Sorry, tumblr is not letting me tag a few of you.)

 A lot of the information I am providing is not new and connects the dots from the amazing posts from this community. I tried as best as I could to cite all relevant posts - you can definitely let me know if I've made any errors. Please feel free to edit//contribute//comment because I have a feeling that a more seasoned eye would be able to expound on so many more clues and easter eggs!

Let the Games Begin!

Overall Concept/Themes

There are truly some insightful analysis of the overarching themes and concepts of the album already. Secrecy, partners in crime, forbidden love… In general there's a complex theme of Duality to the album; conflicting feelings, Brand vs Self, bad vs good, truth vs reputation etc. I think it's most important to note is that any analysis that views these tracks differently than listed below, can still be correct. Our Queen is a lyrical master plus there's that added layer of intentional dualities in her story telling; there's always at least 3 different meanings to her songs and that's one of the reasons we admire her wordsmith ways.

 The Timeline!!!

 …Ready For It?  - So It Goes… 2012* - 2014

This has long been inferred in every side of the fandom to indicate this is Part 1 of the Story, implied by the ellipses as the beginning and end of the track names. All the timelines I've previously read started at either the introduction of  1989 or even later beginning with 2016/2017 events, but it didn't make sense applied to the album as a whole. Once Delicate MV came out, I began to notice that all of the nods to RED in all these MV's were not just for nostalgia. She is literally telling us that this part of the story was about the end of RED era leading into 1989 - not quite 1989 era just yet. ;)

*2012 is an estimate based on the beginning of the Delicate video; it's possible that TS & KK met before Swiftgron was officially over but who will ever know? Karlie's buzz cut was December 2011 (x). The first half of the album is difficult to theorize specific dates within this period because we really have no idea when KK & TS met.

LWYMMD - New Year's Day 2014 - 2017 (NYD)

I gotta tell you - immediately after reading this, go watch LWYMMD. It was (is?) literally hiding there in plain sight; it's a GENIUS video walking you through EXACTLY what she did (you could say from a satirical standpoint more how the media/GP thought she did) to prepare for this era! When she refers to the "Old Taylor," she's using the term in the exact way her fans have been using: to refer to Country Taylor. She is officially Pop; Look What We Made Her Do when RED, a pop-country album, "a patchwork of songs," didn't win the Grammy. She went full POP princess. This post in particular helped me remember that these songs are not fresh in regards to her life even though they are brand new to us. Part 2 of the story more clearly follows the events of the 1989 era through just before rep's release.

Track by Track // 15 Taylors

…Ready For It?  Intro

I believe this is an introduction of what's to come, an overview of the story. Yes, she's definitely asking herself if she's ready to come out of the closet (x/x), if Karlie is ready to glass closet (x), is her beard ready for the consequences(x), and most specifically, are we, her fans, the GP, are we ready for her to come out and live her truth unapologetically? It's her laying the groundwork to prepare for 1989; her literally coming up with the concept for the whole era which is why we see the references to her 1989 MV's in the glass room. This post  cites the connection to the Dykes on Bikes; are we ready to accept Taylor to not only come out, but be a strong voice and activist of the LGBTQ+ community?

End Game April 2013 - June 2014

I KNOW Taylor is singing to KK about them first meeting - and I KNOW we think they just met before VSFS 2013 (even though there are rumors that say they met sooner…) But, hear me out because this lines up way too easily with the information we get from the MV (x/x). Remind yourself… Who opened for Taylor's RED tour? That’s right, our favorite ginger. It's a nice additional nod with the callback of Everything Has Changed duet with Ed Sheeran. Miami (shoutout to my hometown even though I have no inkling to its significance) tour dates were 04/10/13, London was  02/01/14 (Did she really show us their first  NYE together?!), and Tokyo was 06/01/14.

Irrelevant now but important for later (LWYMMD): And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ‘em. This post highlights a cool interpretation of the line that applies to this whole post!

I’ve been doing some digging to try and somehow link Miami in this mix, and this is pure speculation but I feel like Future represents her bearding with Harry Styles. Karlie’s “buzz cut” was in December 2012, and shortly thereafter she was in Miami for a photo shoot. 1/4/12 marks the official break up of Haylor in the US Virgin Islands… it’s a stretch and I’m totally grasping at straws but they are geographically close and it’s all I got for now.

   "Me, I was a robber first time that (s)he saw me…"

I Did Something Bad early 2013

So, I have to admit… IDSB and DBM were the two songs I was having the most trouble placing within the linear timeline; my initial thought was this must have been a metaphor for her confessing her "sins" a.k.a. bearding, to Karlie when they first started dating. This was the song that clicked once I looked through the lenses of the 15 Taylors and reaffirmed my thoughts with the visuals of this Taylor on the cross in LWYMMD. In digging a little deeper, I found a Vanity Fair article - one of the only cover stories found online about TS during 2013. I'm not as confident about my perspective on the linear timeline with this track, however I feel like it's a good start especially considering the next holy church track.

In regards to the "light me up" lyric, and clear visual reference in the …RFI MV as well as the crucifixion of Taylor in LWYMMD, I thought this answer she gave the   73 Questions With Taylor Swift | Vogue video was also interesting to note. The question was what is the one thing she wishes she would have known at age 19 (8:03)?

"Hey, you're going to date just like a normal 20-something should be allowed to, but you're going to be a national lightning rod for slut-shaming."

I'll leave this quote from the April 2013 Vanity Fair interview right here:

"But nobody calls them the kinds of names that get thrown at Swift. “They’re ‘playboys,’ ” Swift says wryly. “They’re ‘having fun.’ ”

By the way, in the Vanity Fair article there's an "authorized source" giving insight to what "really happened" to Haylor aka probably lies.

 Every lie I tell them, they tell me three

Don't Blame Me early - mid 2014

I can really only hypothesize through the lyrics and the Taylor line up that this may be a reference to how the RED "media" circus (as quoted from the VF article cited above) literally made her do crazy things - maybe how her past experiences had caused her to react a certain way in an undefined relationship, maybe how the media circus in general had her guarding her heart, and of course the religious context of the song leads me to believe of course it is connected in that aspect to the confessing of her actions in the previous track. Big Sur trip also falls within this timeline. (x/x/x) 

I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy…

Delicate 2013 - 2014

I think this one has so many beautiful analysis with the music video that syncs perfectly with this time line with no need for additional explanation, and I think it's especially apparent why this Taylor represents TraKK 5 in the line up. (x/x)

It's interesting that Fearless Taylor and Red Taylor were the ones actually fighting on Taylor Mountain in the LWYMMD MV; this may be a reference to her insecurities and headspace during the RED media circus//break up anxieties fighting contrasting to her want to just dance in her best dress Fearless with KK with no inhibitions.

Dancing in my best dress, fearless 

LWYMMD End of 2014

Has anyone noticed the crows in the beginning? It literally hit me as I was finishing this post - a group of crows is called a murder.

We see her Driving a new Maserati (well, car with significant meaning) down a dead end street and then crashes into the pole. (x) She literally killed the "Old Taylor" to get the Grammy - as well as set up clever disguises as red herrings* so that we missed the most obvious clue that this is about the release of 1989. I think even cleverer, how she walks away from the crash unscathed at the end of the MV to imply she rose up from the dead, she does it all the time (with each era release). (x/x/x/x)

*Red herring: something, especially a clue, that is or is intended to be misleading or distracting. In reference to the post regarding hatchets in End Game, she's definitely sending us on the hunt… remember that post above I asked you to note?

 Then of course another hint to the timeline is in the lyrics and MV (look at the date of the tweet...)

I've got a list of names and yours is in red underlined 

So It Goes… October/November 2014

This was definitely the most challenging to figure out, but there's definitely two clear ideas that are represented here - the linear timeline alludes to the HOT KINKY SEX our girls probably had after VSFS '14 (x/x/x) and the death of her 'innocence.' Coincidentally, I had read Slaughterhouse Five for the first time earlier last year and lurking around the Reddit TS  community where they spent so much time trying to figure out how they could circle this back to Vonnegut. Unluckily for them, it is the most heteronormative//homophobic community where even Kaylor posts are censored/deleted/ridiculed etc so they weren't ever going to get it. This song represents a toxic relationship with CH in their eyes, and I can see that perspective… another Salute to the American Queen of Wordplay.

 Anyway, here is a quote from a NY Times (https://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/18/books/review/and-so-it-goes.html)

That is, the constant repetition of “So it goes” makes readers ask themselves about the meaning of death (or its lack of meaning) and the incalculable human costs of war.

The 2009 VMA's Taylor is the epitome of everything her art, brand and music spoke to prior to 1989; and with the Pop princess she was no longer the relatable girl next door. She had gone full big-city, celebrity friends, glitz and glam - feeling so Gatsby for that whole year. With 1989, represented by the LWYMMD music video, that image was shattered, it was the death of her reputation but the true beginning of laying the groundwork for her and KK's future and she truly felt alive. 

Not to mention a song about kinky sex is a huge step away from that image.

So it goes...

And so it goes, now Part 1 of our story is done.

Gorgeous Met Ball 2015

Part 2 moves into the 1989 era starting with the Met Gala. (x/x) I read a great analysis using the lyrics to prove why this song is not about someone you just met because of the intense conflicting feelings. (I have scoured Tumblr to find it and link it but can't rediscover it… sorry I explained I've been a noob and a lurker and I never liked or reblogged anything, I'll update with a link if I ever find it again!) That made me reevaluate my original thoughts of this track being Enchanted 2.0 and representing her meeting Karlie for the first time. This was the first public event Kaylor attended together; it must have been strong conflicting feelings of joy & giddiness of the relationship quickly overtaken by nerves, fear, and anger that she would be found out and/or couldn’t show any outward PDA towards KK at the event. I would imagine there was a lot of drinking that night to cope, thus the “drunk” perspective.

 PS she probably didn’t go home alone that night (DING)😉

 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

Getaway Car May - August 2016

There are great analysis looking at this song from two main POV's- 1. the bearding CH-TH circus(x/x) and 2. a reflection of Swiftgron in hindsight (x). For the sake of the timeline/15 taylor line up, it was too coincidental that this was the Taylor snapping at the beards in I <3 TS shirts and  from that perspective, fits perfectly into the linear timeline. It is suspect  that TS went against her management in anger of how the "break up" with CH unfolded, and so it would make sense to be a little apologetic towards TH -- the one beard aftermath she may have regretted but that is just pure speculation.

And a circus ain't a love story, and now we're both sorry

  *I JUST NOTICED! She POPS HER LEG for the 7th boyfriend in line - AKA CH. She is SO EXTRA!

King of My Heart August 2016

The below quote and Taylor line up don't need further explanation. 

"I think it’s very interesting when people talk about their love stories. Like when you guys blog about, “my and my husband, me and my boyfriend” or just anyone talking about how they fell in love. 

There seem to be these very definitive phases. It doesn’t matter how long that phase lasts. There seems to be a moment where you know it transitioned to the next phase. People will be like, “Oh my God, we were friends for six years and there was this moment and we knew and then it changed. Then there was a moment and it got even deeper. Then there was a moment and we knew” or like “I saw this person and there was this moment and we knew.” Everyone has a different story with how they connect with someone else and what i find interesting is the moment where it switches. You always hope that switch is going to move forward and not backwards because it can happen either way. I always wanted to structure the song where each individual section of the song sounded like a move forward in the relationship but still being listenable. So I wanted the verse to seem like it’s own phase of a relationship, the pre-chorus to sound like it’s own phase of a relationship, and the chorus to sound like it’s own phase of a relationship. I wanted them to all have their own identity but seem like they were getting deeper and more fast paced as the song went on. So finally I was able to achieve that in a song.”

 Here’s a couple of my favorite analysis regarding this song. (x/x)

 Up on the roof with a school girl crush

 Dancing With Our Hands Tied Mid - End 2016

This analysis  really explains the lyrics and matches the allusion of the Zombie Taylor to make it seem like it is a hindsight song about Swiftgron; however Out of the Woods is the last MV of 1989 era released the end of 2015 (aside from New Romantics your video) and this can perhaps be expressing the death of Taylor’s 1989 reputation after the slew of public feuds. It can also be interpreted as a hindsight song in regards to Kissgate in 12/2014(x/x); how she had found herself coming into 1989, but was a zombie version of that because she had to beard with CH and TH and it perhaps made her feel dead inside. Maybe she’s implying that she would have just taken the fall from grace then put herself through another (particularly long and grueling) fake relationship.

I had a bad feeling

Dress October 2016

Not only is Dress pretty frequently analysed, it's also the most obvious and blatant within the theory.  I thought it was very cute that this was represented by the Ballerina in the line up as a not so subtle nod to Karlie. October 2016 was the infamous Golden Tattoos at Drake's birthday party. (x/x/x)  

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo. 

Sorry I couldn’t help myself with this gif :P

TIWWCHNT November 2016

Originally, I thought this was the easiest one- yes, the Snake Queen is sipping and serving tea on her infamous feuds however it just didn't fit in the more transparent timeline of the second half. There's been a few posts that hint the track may be a slight diss to her fans. Once it hit me she was alluding to herself as our (the fans) American *dream* Queen, I realized: this song is not a slight diss - it is harshly directed to us, all of us. Hear me out: Just like KOMH is about a love that reflects back on different periods in life, this track also calls to a couple different conflicts with the relationship of TS and her fans. She's never enough for either aspect of the fandom.

I thought it was curious that she would have the "ET TU BRUTE" (x)  as a reference to Kanye because let's be honest, she probably never trusted him after 2009 and rightfully so. "Et tu, Brute?" is a Shakespeare reference and a phrase that is now used to describe a friend stabbing you in the back. This would be more applicable to us, her fans. V1:

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jumping to the pool from the balcony

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

And there are no rules when you show up here

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

This easily refers to 12/2014 - Kissgate. Feeling so gatsby for that whole year; throwing big parties. She had to close the gate before she was outed prematurely by the fans watching her during the concert.  We were the last ones she ever expected having to protect herself from; she had been so open, glass-closeting, but the fans took it too far and crossed the line of her privacy. She was surprised by the network that had expanded to track her every move. A couple years pass, V2:

It was so nice being friends again

There I was giving you a second chance

Think back to the election of 2016; Taylor being back in the media and more open again with her life wasn't enough at this point. America had reached a boiling point and everyone had to pick a side; even Taylor's most dedicated fans were constantly expressing their disappointment at her so she changed her priorities and went into hiding.

 As @paradisekisses once posted, “Not everything is about Kanye.”

 Salute to you, our American Queen of Red Herrings

 Because you break them, I had to take them away.

Call It What You Want End of 2016

The lyrics all harken to 1989 (x) and this is when her reputation has never been worse (again), but she’s stronger this time and it didn’t break her as much as post RED era. Not to mention, she’s madly in love and found her end game so nothing else really matters to her; her priorities have been shifted and she knows what truly matters in her life. 

Call her what you want, she is Karlie's Partner in Crime.  it's an obvious call to the gold cage, hostage to my feelings; she will jail herself once more with this ((hopefully)) last beard and that will be the official death of  (2.0? 6.0?) Old Taylor. The best part is the BTS video showing how much fun she was actually having in the gold cage. There are beautiful analysis of this song (x/x/x/x/x)   , and to me it's just the most real/pure love song. Love isn't just about all the good times, it's how your partner and you navigate the bad. Sometimes the worst moments in life show us just how strong our relationships are and bring us closer together.

Karlie what you want, call her what you want to (I can't unhear this in the background now <3)

New Year's Day January 1, 2017

This Taylor is hidden from us because she will probably never be as open with the GP, media, or her fans ever again. Who knows what to come in the future, but she actively tells us "don't read the last page" and to "hold onto the memories." Ugh, this is making me tear up --  I just officially joined the fandom!! Don’t tell me this is it already... (x/x/x) 

This post highlighted the importance of the sunshine necklace with Taylor's obvious sarcasm in the BTS in saying “It’s really important to wear subtle jewelry in music videos, I’ve learned.” (If anyone can forward the gif I’d love to add it to the post :))

Sidenote: technically, isn't this another closet she's in during the rep era?

Wear you like a necklace…

And I will hold on to you...

I had so much fun putting this together and being inspired by all the amazing perspectives the Kaylor fandom has been churning! Hope you like it :) Let me know your thoughts!

[codylabs]

Chapter 3: Hunt the Huntress

“So Ford was right!” Mabel exclaimed. “There ARE more out there!”

“It’s better than that!” Dipper added. “If this really is robotic life, life doesn’t work alone! That means there’s a whole ECOSYSTEM out there! A robot ecosystem somewhere out in the forest! Just waiting to be found!”

Wendy was strangely silent. “Hmm.” She said.

They found their bikes outside the manor, and began to mount up.

“That means Juan has a mom and dad to go home to!” Mabel said, stepping on the first pedal. “I’m so happy for him! But I need to get all my cuddling done now before you guys find them!”

“Cudling. Right. Sure.” Dipper said. “Okay! Wendy. Where did you find this thing? Let’s head back to that area of the forest, and have a look around! See if we can’t find some other signals or footprints to track…”

“Wait!” Mabels said. “They don’t have footprints! They have tank tracks on their feet! So it’ll be tracking track tracks!”

“Ha ha! Track track track…” Dipper laughed. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Wendy mumbled, her voice still quiet. “Let’s do that.”

“HOLD UP THERE, FELLERS!” McGucket’s voice interrupted them. “I think I may have somethin’ fer ya ta use!”

“’Sup?” Dipper asked.

“Eh, just these contraptions here.” McGucket pulled a half dozen cup-sized devices out of his pocket. “I hootinannied up a couple radio transmitters to give out the same signal that your robit does. So you can use ‘em for bait, decoys… I ain’t rightly sure how ya plan ta go about this, but if you ever wanna use ‘em, just flip that there switch.”

“Hey, thanks!” Dipper took two, and Wendy took the rest.

“Yeah, awesome!” Mabel said.

“No problemo!” McGucket did a happy little jig, turned back toward the manor, and waved goodbye.

“That’s so great!” Mabel said. “You’re so totally prepared for this now!”

“Wait, aren’t you coming?” Dipper asked.

“No, I’ve got to introduce Juan to Candy, Grenda, and Waddles! They’ll adore him! Could I have the other pair of gloves?”

“Uh…” Dipper handed them to her. “Sure. Just… Um… Just keep an eye out, all right? We don’t know if Juan’s family is gonna come back for it, and they could be… Dangerous…”

“Okay.” Mabel said. “I’ll stay in the shack then, and invite everyone over! Ford has ray guns. He won’t let people near.”

“Hmm.” Wendy mumbled. “Yeah. You go do that.”

“Hey.” Dipper noticed his friend’s grim expression. “What’s bugging you?”

“Here, take the box, Mabel.” Wendy said. “Run on ahead. I think my bike has a flat tire; we’ll catch up.”

“All right!” Mabel rode off merrily with Juan in her bike’s basket. The little creature chirped happily in the breeze. (Aunt Mabel definitely was its favorite.)

Dipper turned back to Wendy, and her bike with perfectly fine tires. “Hey.” He said. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, and thought for a moment. “Have you ever played ‘Space Androidoid 2?’” She asked.

“Space androidoid?” He frowned at the change in subject, and worked his memory. “Wasn’t that a game franchise back in the 90’s or whatever?”

“Yeah. Soos plays it. Have you played it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She said. “So… In this game, you play a bounty hunter. The android, yeah? This bounty hunter was sent to this dangerous planet, the homeworld of this super dangerous alien creature. Right? These creatures are nearly extinct, but the last of the species are on this planet. They may be dangerous, but there’s not many of them left, right?”

“Right.”

“In the game, your job is to kill them. You have to kill them. Every last one of them. Because the risk they pose is too great. If they fell into the wrong hands, if they spread across the universe, if they grew larger… The risk is too great. People could die. So… They need to die. Every last one of them.”

“You’re saying…?” Dipper glanced over his shoulder, to make sure Mabel hadn’t doubled around and snuck back near, as she was prone to do. “You’re saying… We should kill these things? Exterminate them?”

“I’m telling you that it might be the best option. Depending on what we find in the forest today, we might need to. I’m preparing you for that.”

“That’s… Wendy, that’s wrong. We can’t just… Exterminate an entire species. Just because they’re different than us, or just because they scare us. It’s irresponsible. It’s ruining the environment. It’s destroying something priceless and irreplaceable…”

“Heck YES it’s destroying something priceless and irreplaceable. Heck YES it’s ugly, and there would probably be a better solution if we were richer, wiser, or more powerful. But at the end of the day, that may be the only solution we have. And they aren’t just different, they’re dangerous.” Wendy showed him her bandage. “Juan is a juvenile the size of a kitten, and he almost cut my finger in half. Could have done worse is he was on full charge, or if he were actual trying. This took him about half a second. Now ask yourself, how big do these things get? The size of a person? The size of a cow? The size of a car? A bulldozer? A house?”

“We have literally no idea…”

“Imagine the worst-case scenario, dude.” Wendy said. “The very worst. Imagine if they were really big, like tank-sized, and found out they could leave the forest. Imagine if they found out that the wide world is filled with metal: cars and buildings and those guardrails on the roadside and telephone wires… In civilization, they would have all the metal they could eat, and no natural predators. They could cut a car in half and eat it. With the people still inside. They could chop bridges up and let them crumble. When the military comes to evac the town in their helicopters, they could jump out and chop up the choppers. With the people still inside. When they roll down the roads to the big city, they could eat away at the foundations of the big skyscrapers like beavers, and let them fall. With the people still inside. The government might have to nuke the city. WITH THE PEOPLE STILL INSIDE. Are they bulletproof? We don’t know. Can they shrug off an RPG? We don’t know. Are they invulnerable to nuclear fallout? We don’t know. Can they swim? We don’t know. How fast do they eat, grow, and reproduce? We. Don’t. Know.”

“Wendy… You’re being paranoid.”

“So? Our paranoia is what keeps us alive. And keeps others alive. People of our ‘profession’ can’t afford ANYTHING less.”

Dipper considered this long and hard. “But… We don’t even know that they’re that bad at all… What if they don’t get much bigger than a dog? What if they could be easily domesticated, or trained not to eat stuff we like? What if it could actually all turn out to be just like Mabel sees it: happy and adorable...”

Wendy threw her arms in the air. “Yeah!” She said. “That would be great! That would be the most awesome thing in the world! My brothers would totally LOVE a robot dog! Mabel would too! But… But remember the last adventure we had together? YOU were the one who taught me a real meaty lesson that day: life isn’t Mabel Land. If we think it is, if we pretend it is, if we forget our troubles and focus on being positive, then that’s not real. If we do that, people die. I’m not saying we need to kill the cat-rat-bots, dude. Heck, everything we’ve been saying here has been straight-up speculation. We don’t know a thing about these creatures. But if they are hostile, if they’re highly dangerous, we need to be prepared to do anything. Murder an entire race. Do a cover-up. Burn a forest down; I don’t know. And in the end, hardest of all, we’ll need to explain it all to Mabel.”

Dipper felt a terrible and ungainly weight on his shoulders; a looming dread. And he knew that Wendy was right. If these things were hungry and mean, if peace was not an option, she was right. It really could be us-or-them. He finally answered. “I’m glad you sent Mabel off before describing this.”

Wendy beamed, and stuck up her thumb. “Yeah! No problem, dude. I got yer back.”

Dipper nodded. “I guess you’re right though… I guess you’re right.”

“These are the tough calls, Dipper.” Wendy swung her bike around to the direction of the road, and began pedaling. “Depending on what we find out there, sooner or later… These are the tough calls we’ll have to make.”

A half hour later, Dipper and Wendy left their bikes at the end of a logging road, and started into the trees.

Two hours after that, the found themselves deep in the forest, in the cool and quiet stillness beneath the massive trees. Somewhere far away and high up, a lonely woodpecker drilled into a trunk, and its tapping echoed hauntingly through the forest, the only living sound. Wendy folded up her map and slipped it back into her pack. “This is it.” She said. “This is the place.”

The bear trap lay in the same place she’d found it, the branch she’d used to pry it open still wedged between its jaws. And the rusty metal of the trap itself was scarred and cracked in places where Juan had grinded on it, in his futile efforts to escape.

“Okay.” Dipper nodded, and pulled out the radio tracker. “Let’s see if I can find a signal of some kind…” The devices speaker warbled with unclear static, spun lazily around a few times, and finally pointed back the way they’d come. “No good.” He said. “It’s still just picking up Juan. I wonder… If it DOES have a mother of some type that’s supposed to home in on its signal, I wonder where it is now? It’s been 3 days…”

“Maybe its mother abandoned him.” Wendy suggested. “Maybe it was here, and since it didn’t have hands, it saw that it couldn’t free him from the bear trap without destroying him. So it just left him. Started ignoring his signal.”

“That would make sense…” Dipper nodded. “But what do we do now?”

Wendy looked around, and then pointed to the next ridge. “Well. Maybe if we head up there and hit one of McGucket’s transmitters, she’ll see the source has moved, and understand he got free. Worth a try, right?”

Dipper nodded, pulling out a decoy. “Good idea. And while we’re walking, keep a look out for… You know… Like, anything.”

“Oh, I have been.” Wendy assured him. “Way ahead of you. Way ahead.”

“Seen anything?”

“Nope.”

“Well.”

The ridge turned out to be a little taller than it looked from a distance. And a little steeper. They were on their hands and knees now, half walking, half pulling themselves past the rocks and roots. Though the sun remained obscured behind the trees, Dipper soon found himself sweaty and weary. Sports. He growled to himself. Why have I never done sports? Maybe a little football, or… Track, or… Wrestling or something, would have given me some better cardio. Should have known this was waiting for me. Man. Now I’m like a second-class-adventurer. He looked up at Wendy’s backside, progressing further and further ahead of him. She’s the athletic one. The dangerous one. And I’m the smart one. Right? I always was the smart one. But now she’s in on everything I was. And she’s been at it all year. She probably knows more than I do. She’s probably more curious, more clever, and smarter than I am. The journals are gone, and she has her diary… What do I bring to the table now? When Wendy got more than 20 feet further up than him, she seemed to notice his exhaustion, and stopped to let him catch up.

“You need a minute?” She asked when he passed her.

He thought about this briefly, but his sense of manly honor allowed only one answer to pass his lips. “Nah.” He said. “I’m good… We’ve gotta be halfway, right?”

“Uh…” She gazed down the slope. “Yeah.” She said. “A third at least. But it’s best not to think about it like that. Think of something else.”

They climbed on in silence, as Dipper tried to think of something else to think about. He settled on Gideon Gleeful for no real reason, and spent the rest of the climb nursing silent grudges and wondering how that kid had turned out.

“Hey, we’re basically to the top!” Wendy finally announced.

Dipper was right behind her. He breathed deeply, rubbed his sore arms, and leaned against a tree.

“Ugh.” He said. “This hill looked way shorter from the bottom.”

“Yeah.” Wendy nodded, leaning against a different tree. “Yeah. So. We’re up here now. The radio signal can probably reach the whole valley… How we gonna do about this?”

“Okay…” Dipper said, looking around. “Let’s put the decoy up in a tree or something, so it gets even better range.”

“I have a better idea. Since the idea is for it to think the decoy is its baby, why would we put it up a tree? How would its baby got all the way up a tree? I think we should put ourselves up in a tree instead. So we can see it coming and stay out of danger.”

“Alrighty.” Dipper said. “This is going here then.” He dropped the decoy on the ground.

“Nope.” Wendy reached into her backpack and removed a large net. “It’s going on top of this. Did your dad ever teach you how to rig up a trap like this?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well here, I’ll show you.”

Twenty minutes later, the decoy was transmitting, the trap was set, and the two teens were thirty feet above it, trying to find some way to get comfortable up among the sharp and pokey branches. Wasn’t long before Dipper got sort of bored. “So.” Wendy broke the silence. Apparently, she was just as bored as him. “How about that Pacifica brat? Mabel said she asked you on a date or something?”

“OH OH UH… Yeah.” Dipper looked up at her branch, and scratched the back of his head nervously. “Yeah. Yesterday. She… Well, she’s actually changed. A little. I think. She’s not a brat very much I guess… I mean… She’s not super mean, really, and… And she can actually be a hero when she needs to. Anyway, I said yes, and… I guess it’ll kind of be my first date.”

“Oh yeah? That’s cool. Where you guys going?”

“I guess we’re going to the… Uh… I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s like a seafood place. Mabel says she went there with Gideon once. And she says the food is really fresh. But she said the word ‘fresh’ all slow and menacing, so I’m not sure what she actually meant.”

“Huh. Sounds awesome.” Wendy nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Y’know, I’ve never really had seafood.” Wendy said.

“Me neither.” Dipper shrugged. “But it sounds like it could be pretty fun. Pacifica said the Caviar is really good.”

Wendy seemed to consider this for a moment. “The Caviar.”

“Yeah.”

“…You poor jerk. You don’t even know what Caviar is, do you?”

“No.” He admitted.

“Me neither.” She shrugged. “Probably some kind of enchiladas.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What are you gonna wear?”

“I don’t know. Something, uh… Some fancy color. Like black pants, and, uh… A black shirt… That… Goes over top of a white shirt or something. Like whatever Bipper wore. Mabel said that he looked pretty nice.”

“Yeah, he was pretty dapper.”

“Yeah. Can’t be too hard. I’ll figure something out.”

“When is this date?”

“Thursday.”

“You should probably figure that out sooner rather than later. Correct me if I’m wrong, but right now your entire wardrobe consists of socks, underwear, brown shorts, red t-shirts, and that vest.”

“Well, no… I… I… They’re all different…”

He felt his gaze on her, looked up, and met her eye. She frowned very slightly. “Which means.” She reasoned. “That every day I’ve ever seen you… You’ve been wearing the exact same shirt and pants. The. Exact. Same.”

“UH…” He struggled to weasel his way out of this. Had he really? He thought he’d just been procrastinating washing his clothes. Sure, some mornings he just picked up his shirt and pants where he’d tossed them the previous night, but had he REALLY done that EVERY morning? Was he seriously that bad? “Uh…” He repeated.

“I knew it.” She snapped her fingers and leaned back against the tree trunk. “It’s true. You never change your clothes. That means I win the bet. Ford has to pay up.”

“UH…” He struggled. “How about you, then? Your shirt and pants have stayed the same color since as long as I can remember…”

“Woah, dude, chill. This is my lucky jacket. And I do have other things besides grey jeans.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I have some red pants… And a dress. And my dad gave me a kilt at some point.”

“Red pants. Red.”

“Yeah.”

“And a dress.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And a kilt.”

“My dad has… Eccentricities.”

“Have you ever worn any of those items?”

“Umm… Well… No.”

Dipper smiled with smug satisfaction. She’d fallen right into her own trap. “You know what they say…” He chided, as he leaned back and inspected his fingernails. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw dirty laundry.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Kitten-Sneeze?” She retorted, sitting forward. “Well people who live in wooden houses shouldn’t roast.”

“Yeah?” He retorted. “Well people who live in ice houses shouldn’t blow steam.”

“Yeah? People in paper houses shouldn’t choose scissors.”

“Yeah? People in gallium houses should stay chill.”

“Yeah? People in spiky houses shouldn’t trip and fall on their face.”

“Yeah? People in straw houses shouldn’t lose needles.”

“Yeah? People in bubble houses shouldn’t even walk.”

“Yeah? People in golden houses shouldn’t… Uh… Okay, I got nothing.”

Their intellectual debate was suddenly interrupted by a noise from below. Their eyes swiveled downward, and stared at their new visitor. They both grinned, half in satisfaction, half in horror.

The parent had returned.

It was the perfect image of Juan, but scaled up to roughly the size of a lion. Its legs were longer and leaner, its back was wider and flatter, its treads were wider and more rugged, and its head was the size of a wheelbarrow. For a machine of its size, it moved surprisingly quiet. Almost silent, but for the occasional snapping twig beneath its treads.

Unlike its child, which had been shelled in silvery, bright plating, the parent appeared as a matte grey/brown, with a oil-like bluish sheen. Almost so dark that it blended in with the forest floor.

If these robots were, as they suspected, part of some unknown larger ecosystem, what role would these cat-like units play in that system? Dipper began to strongly suspect that Juan, and his parent here, must be the predators. Their eyes were in front, they moved silently and directly, and they had a large system of hooks in their mouth, as if for spearing and grappling. They were looking at a robot designed for hunting, killing, and eating other robots.

So rad.

Wendy took out her phone and began taking a video. Dipper took out disposable camera and began snapping pictures. The lion-bot seemed oblivious to them as it moved through the trees. Its dark red eyes swiveled back and forth across the ground, searching carefully for its target.

“Man.” Wendy whispered under his breath. “Soos is gonna flip when he sees this.”

“Soos and I are pterodactyl bros.” Dipper mentioned off-hand. “I wish he didn’t have to stay back at the Shack. He’d love this thing.”

“What’s pterodactyl bros?” Wendy asked. “And doesn’t that have a ‘P’?”

“It’s like blood brothers, but totally dinosaur-centric in every way. And the ‘P’ is silent.”

“Makes enough sense…”

The antennae mane of the lion-bot extended up and outward now, fanning out like a radar dish. It turned its head side to side, scanning. Then the antennae retracted, and it turned around to look directly at McGucket’s decoy.

“This guy is too big to trap in the net…” Dipper groaned.

“Yeah…” Wendy ran her fingers through her hair. “She’s gonna set off the trap anyway, but then just escape, and then… Then what do we do? How are we gonna find her again? How are we gonna track her back to where she’s from??”

Dipper racked his brain. Finally something occurred to him. “Wendy! Give me the magnet gun!”

As she handed it down, he pulled out his swiss-army knife. He unscrewed the side of the gun, reached into its mechanisms, and removed one of its neodymium magnetic armatures.

“What’s that?” Wendy asked.

“This.” Dipper answered. “Is a rare-earth magnet. One of the strongest on Earth. You got some tape?”

“No.”

“DANG IT… Uh… I’ll just use my sock.”

He took off his right shoe and sock, squeezed the magnet into the sock, then squeezed another one of McGucket’s decoys in on top of it. Then he tied the mouth of the sock closed, and was left with a finished product.

“Ah.” Wendy nodded. “I get it.”

Dipper smiled as he put his shoe back on. “Poor man’s GPS tracker.” He said proudly. Then he turned it on, and held the package out at arm’s length over the net. “Now come on, girl. Just a little closer…”

The lion-bot wandered over toward the decoy at the bottom of the tree, and began to circle around it curiously. Its antennae extended again, as if to make sure that this was, indeed, the source of the signal. When it decided it was, it angrily stepped on the decoy, destroying it instantly. The robot began to look around and turn in a circle. And at a single moment, it was directly beneath them.

Dipper dropped the package.

It fell silently and unceremoniously straight down for 30 feet, and finally connected with the lion-bot directly in the small of its back. With a loud ‘CLUNK’ it stuck and attached, and the magnet kept it secure.

“YES!” Dipper cried.

“DUDE!” Wendy congratulated him.

The robot seemed to panic at the impact, and stumbled around just enough to set off the trap.

The net jerked up around its front left leg, and tangled in place. The robot thrashed for a minute, backing away. Then it noticed the rope holding the net in place. Its head opened up and its mouth extended.

Dipper and Wendy stopped smiling, for the hooks in its mouth were the size of steak knives. As for the saws, they were easily as big around as dinner plates, and there were about 5 of them.

The lion-bot clipped the net with the saw, and it fell away. The robot stepped free. Then, forgetting both the net and the tracker on its back, it turned its eerie red gaze up toward Dipper and Wendy.

“Welp.” Wendy said. “It occurs to me that it can chop down trees.”

“You know what?” Dipper said. “Today was fun.”

The robot retracted its saws, and swatted at the trunk of their tree with one paw. The tree shook heavily, and Dipper grabbed a nearby branch to steady his balance.

“Plan.” Wendy said.

The robot turned the top of its head forward, and rammed the tree with the entire weight of its body. The tree shook so violently that Dipper had to grab the branch to keep from falling off, and it almost didn’t work.

“Plan.” Wendy repeated.

“What do we have?” Dipper asked. “Do we have, like, weapons?”

“Between the two of us.” Wendy recited. “We have two axes, three knives, four decoys, two walkie-talkies and a magnet gun that’s missing an armature.”

“Actually.” Dipper pulled another magnet gun out of his backpack. “I brought one too. You just had yours handy… Uh… Take mine.”

“I was gonna say…”

The tree shook again as the robot spun its saws up to speed and began to cut away at the base of the trunk. It was cutting FAST.

“PLAN.” Wendy repeated once more.

“Okay…” Dipper racked his brain, and finally got an idea. When it came, he began speaking fast. “…Okay, Check this thing out. It’s got no ears, and no nose. Just its eyes, and those antennae. So I’m guessing it usually tracks prey by sight and electromagnetic junk. Us meatbags got none of that junk, so if we’re out of sight, then it’s lost us.”

“Climb down the tree then.” Wendy said. “Climb down to just out of reach. When the tree topples, we hit the ground running, and get hidden as fast as possible.”

“Yeah.” Dipper began his descent. It was counterintuitive, climbing down TOWARD the hostile thing. But he understood the sense in it. The higher up they were, the faster they would hit the ground.

“Worse comes to worse.” Wendy added. “This gun’s ‘pulse’ setting fried my old phone from 20 paces. It could be deadly to this girl.”

“Yeah.” Dipper nodded, while silently praying that they wouldn’t have to kill it. It was just looking for its child. It had been deceived, and ensnared, and taunted from above. Now it was just as angry as anyone would be. It didn’t deserve to die.

Wendy seemed to read his thoughts. “I don’t want to do it either, man. Which is why I haven’t done it yet. But it’s just an animal. Like we talked about; us or them! Now get ready!”

The pile of sawdust beneath the lion-bot’s apparatus was growing, and the tree was swaying more and more. Now there was a cracking noise, and the tree was going down.

“JUMP!” Wendy called, and they did.

Dipper heard the tree crash to a stop behind him, and he hit the ground running, aiming for the nearest, thickest tree. He ducked down behind it, and took a deep breath. These trees were very old, very thick, and large. Room enough for a teenage boy to hide behind most any of them. A few seconds later, Dipper hazarded a look back at the scene of the fallen tree.

The robot turned in a circle about thirty feet away, looking for a sign of them. It had its antennae out, so Dipper supposed his guess must have been correct: it used electrical signals to find its prey, and they had stumped it, just by virtue of being human.

Wendy was nowhere to be seen. Good.

In a moment when the robot was turned away, Dipper sprinted off toward a different, further tree. So it continued. Eventually he was able to put some distance between himself and it, and could just barely pick out its movement through the trees.

It moved around, this way and that. Sometimes nearer, sometimes further. As if it believed they were still near, and didn’t understand where they could have gone.

At long last, it turned, retracted its saws, and retreated down the far side of the ridge. It moved down the embankment with agility and speed, almost identical to that of a real lion.

When all had been silent for 5 minutes, Dipper again decided to breathe easy, and stepped out from behind the tree.

He met back up with Wendy near where they had split.

“Good plan.” She told him. “I noticed the no-ears-no-nose thing, but I guess I never put it together that it actually COULDN’T hear or smell.”

“Yeah, thanks!” He ran his fingers aggressively through his hair, just to dispel the pent-up adrenaline. “WOW, that was intense!”

“Yeah dude! Totally crazy. Did you get pictures of it?”

“Heck yeah, but not after the action started. Did you get footage?”

“I dropped my phone somewhere… Ah ha! Here it is! And the camera is still running! That means it got all of it!”

“AWESOME!”

Dipper pulled out the radio tracker, and tuned it back to Juan’s frequency.

The needle pointed decisively down the ridge, in the direction that the mother had disappeared. “Hey, I’m tracking her!” Dipper said. “The magnet kept the decoy still attached to her!”

“Dude!” Wendy said. “That means mission success! Woot woot!”

“Mission epic success!”

“Dude!” She said again. “We survived a robot lion attack today! Gimme some!” She held up her hand.

Dipper high-fived her. “Yeah!”

“That’s going on my resume!” She added.

Dipper smiled, quite unsure how to take that, but mainly just alarmed and amused that something like THAT would go on a resume. “Uh…” He frowned, and laughed uncertainly. “Seriously? Could I see this resume at some point?”

“Uh… Sure. I guess. I’m still working on it though, so spelling and whatever isn’t… Swanky.”

“I could check over that if you want.”

“That’d be nice.”

Dipper realized he had more important business at the moment, while they were still up on this ridge with this great view. He pulled out a map, a marker, a compass, and the radio tracker, and laid them out on the forest floor. And he began to record the lion-bot’s progress.

He sat there, writing down numbers and angles from the tracker’s needle, for about 5 minutes. At the end, he drew out the results on the map. Based on all this, the robot seemed to be heading in a generally south direction, away from town, away from the valley. Over toward a small cluster of hills in the far distance.

After this, he folded the map back up, put the tools away, and hefted his backpack.

“Okay.” He announced.

“Okay.” Wendy nodded.

Dipper pointed toward the cluster of hills. “There’s our new target.”

“Hmm.” Wendy squinted up at the sun. “Might want to hold till tomorrow. If we turn back now, it’ll be almost dusk by the time we make it back to the shack. And I still have to bike home from there.”

“Okay.” Dipper nodded. “Man. Yeah. We’ll call it a day then. I’m pretty whooped anyway.”

“Me too. I think a branch caught me as I jumped off the tree. Gonna have a nasty bruise in the morning.”

“Ah. And I… Well. Now I don’t have my sock. I’ll probably have a blister or something by the time we make it back.”

“Awwwww, poow baby…”

They turned away from the view and their new target, and started back down the slope toward town.

After a few minutes of climbing, Dipper spoke up. “What you making a resume for?” He asked. “You looking for work? Or… Like, where you hoping to work?”

“Uh… Oh… You know…” She shrugged. “Work. I don’t exactly have a job yet this Summer. I worked weekends over the school year for a fast-food place, but… I don’t know. Now they don’t need me full-time. I want something a little better for the Summer, right? But I don’t really… Know what to do. I think a resume might open up some… Stuff. Right?”

“Yeah, but what job were you hoping for?” He clarified. “Like if you wanted to give a rocking resume to one person, who would it be?”

“Uh…” She turned her attention back to the hike for a moment, and descended the slope by a few tricky steps. “I’ve been thinking, and I think maybe it would be nice to be a cop. What do you think?”

“A cop??” Dipper blinked, a question suddenly burning in his mind. “Have, uh… You HAVE met the cops around here…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would fit right in.” Dipper grinned sarcastically.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” She asked. “These idiots, these BUFFOONS, need all the help they can get. Maybe if they let me… Shuffle paperwork. Or be secretary. Or ride along on patrols, I could actually help them be a little better at their job. Then people would actually be SAFE… Instead of… You know… Now people have to put caps back on the fire hydrants the cops turn into sprinklers, and everybody has to worry about not being zapped for mentioning our mutual friend…”

“So… You take the fall. You have to work with... Those guys. And you have to do a job with tons of boring paperwork… And you work extra hard to pick up the slack… All just to make people safer.”

“It’s not a great plan.” Wendy mumbled. “And… It probably doesn’t have much of a future. And I’d probably hate it, and I don’t really want to do it, but… If I could get that job, it might… Be best? I don’t know.”

“Wendy.” Dipper said. “I’m not positive, but I think that makes you a hero.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Uh. Yeah… Yeah. I know.”