#op you did an excellent job I’m screaming

[callmemaeverick]

Whumptober #1 - Drugged [Alex Keller x Reader]

Words: 1.7k

ps: Yeah, I’m doing Whumptober. Yeah, I’m a day late. No, I will not explain. Prompts courtesy of @ailesswhumptober

He was underwater.

“Keller?” A voice called out somewhere. Cold fingers against his cheeks and Alex hissed. Cold. Too cold.

“Keller? Can you hear me?”

The lights were bright against his pupils, but he couldn’t see a thing. The air rippled and Alex shuddered as he tried to curl in on himself.

The hands were on him again and he wanted to push them off, but he’s tired. He’s so tired.

Alex knows the deal.

This job he chose, this job he so excelled at, he knew the odds going in. He knew what failure and discovery entails. His was the business of espionage and sometimes that business does not come with a safety net.

There will be no one coming to get him. That was the first thing Kate had told him regarding this assignment. If he gets caught, the CIA is not going to send a team to extract him. "Beyond classified," she had said. "Off the books."

And Alex had nodded. He had understood.

His job had been simple enough. Recon, intel gathering.

Kate had caught wind that one of their station chiefs in Amsterdam might be involved in a drug smuggling ring. Due to the nature of the mission, they needed someone that has not operated in Europe in the last decade. Someone that had been embedded in the Middle East so long, Arabic is practically his native language. Someone who looks generic enough to not raise suspicion.

The station chief was newly appointed, so Alex had banked on the intel that he had not come across his files yet. Still, he went in under a tourist visa, a different name and a clean-shaven face.

It went well the first week he was there. Too well. He’d established Ambrose’s schedule, knew his favorite coffee spots, his favorite strip clubs. He couldn’t really plant bugs or trackers anywhere near the man, but Alex was nothing if not resourceful. In the short time he was there, he’d made friends. Little grannies that had too much time on their hand, kids and teenagers all along the river.

He’d created a spy network and it worked for him.

Until it didn’t.

In his work, bad intel is not uncommon. He’s had them fed to him numerous times. But this was the one that blindsided him.

Ambrose knew who he was. He knew the moment Alex landed in Europe. Still, he led him on a chase, let him get comfortable. And when Alex least expected it, he was ambushed.

He could barely feel the pinprick in his neck, but fuck if he didn’t feel the drugs making its way into his system.

It happened fast. They pulled him into the van, they dosed him, and they tossed him back out before they even hit the corner.

By some miracle, he was able to get back to the safe house. By some miracle, he was able to get inside. And by some miracle, she was there.

~

You had no idea what was going on. But you knew you recognize that face.

He was clean-shaven and he had a ballcap covering his dirty blond hair, but you knew that face. You couldn’t forget it.

When you checked the office records, you found he hadn’t checked in, which meant 2 things. He was on vacation. Or he’s on an op. A black one.

You had a sneaking suspicion as to what. You’d been keeping an eye on it yourself.

He didn’t know you were in country though. Of that, you were sure. And if he was on a Black op, you wouldn’t want to expose him. But then one day, you station chief was acting a bit to differently for it to be a coincidence. And your gut was screaming at you something was about to go down.

That night, you went to his safe house.

And thank fuck you did.

~

For someone his size, Alex had always been quiet. It was a skill, really, and a skill he had perfected in the years of his work. But as he laid there in the ratty old couch, he was anything but.

His breaths were harsh coming out of his mouth, as if the air was fighting its way out of his chest. He groaned, deep and growling and you could only watch as his muscles spasmed. Whimpers of pain escaped him as he fought whatever it was they dosed him with.

You sighed as you took a towel to his brow, wiping sweat as if his t-shirt was not drenched already. The IV you bought hung from the coat rack and hanger you scrounged from the depths of his wardrobe. And you waited. And you waited.

~

The crawl to consciousness was not something Alex hadn’t experience before. He was a college student; so, he had been black-out drunk. He had his lights knocked out of him in basic and on mission, and he had been so exhausted that he just passed out standing. But he’d never been drugged before.

It was harrowing. He didn’t know up from down, left from right. He didn’t know where he was or even if he was awake or not. All he knew was pain. His whole body felt like it was brought through the wringer. His joints ache, his limbs are stiff. He’s hot, but he couldn’t. Stop. Shivering!

“Hey, hey…” A voice came through the din and Alex fought just a little bit harder. “It’s alright.” His fingers grasped something slender, something smooth. “Hey, you’re safe… I promise.” It turned in his hand and then, there were fingers lacing through his, cool against his clammy palm. “I promise.”

Pain seized his body once more and he gasped. His joints locked, his muscles froze, and Alex choked.

The fingers were in his hair now, whispering, coaxing him to breathe. The scent of coffee enveloped him, and he gulped lungfuls of it.

“Breathe, Alex. Just breathe… it will pass,”

The whine that escaped him was pitiful, but for some reason he felt safe. Safe to be weak. Safe to suffer.

And suffer he did.

~

When he finally fell limp in your lap, only then that you yourself exhaled. It was a bad one, so bad that he jerked out of the couch and onto the floor. Thankfully you were quick to catch him, to protect his head from any more damage.

His body was like a dead weight on you and there was no way in hell are you moving him, so you stayed. You stayed, your fingers threading to his hair, scratching at the grooves on the side of his head, courtesy of a shrapnel bomb he hadn’t managed to get away from.

That was the mission where you two met.

Tracking a serial bomber in Bahrain.

You got the fucker but not before Alex ended up in the hospital, half his head hanging out, a steel plate replacing a portion of his skull.

You had never seen so much blood before that day, and knowing it came from your partner was traumatizing at best.

But Alex was Alex about it. Once he stabilized and woke up, he was back to the bright-eyed, bright-smiled man, jokingly flirting with you as if he wasn’t just knocking on the Reaper’s door. He breezed through PT like it was summer camp and before you knew it, he was back on the field.

It was one of the reasons you said yes to coffee, a few months after Bahrain.

And then yes to dinner, a few weeks after Thailand.

Because for what he endured, he’d never once blamed you or anyone for it. It was part of the job. And he had accepted it.

That was what killed you. How easily he let it go. How freely he let himself be used, however the Agency wanted. You couldn’t take it. You couldn’t endure it.

~

Weirdly, it wasn’t the pain that registered to him first. No. It was the smell. His smell.

He smelled awful. Of days-old dried sweat and drool, of stale coffee and dusty room. And then the pain came, and he groaned. It was muted, thank fuck, and his legs are stiff, but he could move… off the floor. How did he get here?

He heard the sniffles as he froze, looking up. The first thing he saw were the eyes, lined with wetness that will never fall. Then he saw the upside-down smile.

“There you are,” she said.

He blinked, utterly confused.

“You’re fine. You’re safe.” She began telling him facts. Only facts. Concise, compact, easy for his lethargic brain to comprehend.

Then it all came back to him.

It took days for the substance to make its way through his system, but it did. It was touch and go for a bit, but he pulled through.

They found out what the drug was. It was supposed to kill him, make it look like he OD’d. It was smart, in its simplicity. They knew he was alone. They knew if anybody found him, they’d rule him out as a tourist who partied too hard. They’d tag him, slabbed him and not look back.

And the CIA will be short a good asset.

But they didn’t account for her. They didn’t account for her intel and with his confirmation, they had all the evidence they needed to stop the drug and Ambrose.

~

“Thank you,” His exhale brushed your cheeks. There were still dark circles under his eyes but for all intents and purposes, he’s back on his feet. You were dropping him off at the airport, with him looking all the while like a tourist heading home.

You stared at the spot above his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. You didn’t like goodbyes.

But Alex is Alex, so he stood there patiently until you lost the fight with yourself and pulled your gaze back to him.

“We make a great team,” You held out your hand.

He looked down and grabbed it. You shook it once, and then you were careening forward.

Strong arms wrapped around you and the breath that was stuck in your throat released. Your arms came up behind him and squeezed him tight. A hug from Alex Keller works wonders on you.

“Take care of yourself, Keller.” You whispered.

“Yes, ma’am,” He lied.

FIN.

[the-darklings]

Internal screaming right now in anticipation for this post, I genuinely believe this is one of best collections I’ve ever read I wasn’t a fan of the sandman straight away and I’m still not sure if I am of the show on Netflix but your portrayal of him and the way you write has made me fall in love with the character. Honestly you should be so proud of yourself x

Aww thank you so much!!! 🤧

I’m really glad you enjoy my portrayal of Dream (and to all of you who said I’ve ruined other fics for you lol). He’s kinda messy as a character but that’s why I love him. He’s flawed and that’s interesting because characters like him—super OP, all powerful beings—can very quickly and easily become boring and one dimensional. Neil honestly did excellent job with all the Endless in that regard. They feel both completely otherworldly and exceedingly human as well.

And I’ve been slowly but surely chipping away at the finale—there’s only two scenes left to write 👀

[youranxiousnerd]

The Field Trip Thoughts

Because there is a lot of them

Spoilers for HSMTMS Below

First off, Gina and Ej are adorable. I don’t ship Portwell romantically but I adore their friendship

I’m sorry Ej is the president of the AV club?!?!?! He’s been a part of the club for, what, like two weeks? Go big or go home I guess

I love Nini’s outfit

RICKY USE YOUR EYES!!!

i see that a common theme this season is Ricky not being able to see what is right in front of him. 

I know Ricky is going through stuff. I’m a firm supporter of the Ricky needs therapy campaign. 

Gp better be Ej’s contact name for Gina or I will riot

“Are you announcing the fall musical, I vote Dear Evan Hansen.” 

two evans and possibly a third #joeserafiniforevan

YA KOURT IS STILL ON COSTUME CREW WE STAN AN ACTOR/TECHIE

“SPEECH SPEECH”

i love dara’s laugh

“Can you not keep your phone on silent in rehearsal like everyone else?” “’Sorry, everyone’, is what Carlos would say if he were more like me.”

I smell tension. They seem kind of tense this episode. I don’t know where it came from, there wasn’t really any build up bc thats how seblos rolls. Like they were completely fine last episode. Maybe Seb is just fed up or something happened off screen?

im just happy we’re getting seblos content lmao

“Terrible line” 

“Oh my god is your phone hungry i don’t understand.”

In the “previously on HSMTMTS” segment in episode 5, Carlos mentioned he was slightly scared to be on stage. he seems so effing stressed and irritated this episode more than usual. Carlos for the love of god talk to your boyfriend and eat a snickers.

I think the North High stuff has gone to his head. 

GAHH SEB’S COSTUME

okay carlos honey i love you but how can do you know north high stole your beast mask because a bit of fur is sticking out of a trunk. they have fur too. 

guys look around the room first it could have fallen but nOoOo you assume they committed a felony right off the back.

“Let it go” the kids of east high did not in fact let it go.

I AM DIANE AND I LOVE NORTH HIGH

yes, bring the loudest kids in the school to go steal something, thats an excellent idea.

and bring the kid who cant lie for sh!t im talking about you seb

RICHARD BOWEN YOU DO NOT SCREAM YOUR SCHOOL NAME IN THE ENEMY SCHOOL WTF

Carlos looks so done with everyone I feel you man, i feel you

north high looks more like pottery barn than an actual high school. Seriously, who or what is funding this place?

Miss Jenn: tells the kids to let it go and not go steal the mask. 

Also Miss Jenn: goes to north high

GET AWAY FROM GINA YOU MFER

ej is wearing the gayest shirt in history how does that north high boy believe they’re dating

nice save, ej. 

the faking dating was one of the best scenes of the episode. 

AWWW EJ 

im so happy gina is finally getting the attention she deserves. like i said earlier, i dont ship portwell but gina needs friends and ashlyn and ej are some pretty good friends. they have her back and that’s what i think gina needs.

LILY IS EVIL BUT SHE LOOKS GOOD DOING IT

kourtney darling lower your voice youre on a heist not shopping for shoes

nini you have done nothing for this heist why are you here? 

for the record, i don’t hate nini, but shes probably one of my least favorite characters. i liked her in episode 6 and season 1 tho.

the main kids all share one braincell they didn’t check the box where they originally thought the mask was.

“I want one”

Wow, you guys got caught. Between the Wildcats, loud voices, and large crew I would have never guessed.

SEB’S FACE WHEN NORTH FINDS THEM IM DYING.

The aggressiveness of Antoine’s french is killing me. 

zacky roy what are you doing?

LILY AND THE FLASHLIGHT

carlos getting fired up

“fugly” dramatic gasp

“Oh yeah, what if we bop to the top” I HAVE WAITED 17 EPISODES FOR MEAN/AGGRESSIVE/ANGRY SEB IT WAS WORTH IT

GO OFFF SEBBY

carlos’ “honey calm tf down” face

“honey no” “honey yes”

East High is confused by a dance off (so am i) but then preform a musical number to save their teacher from getting fired complete with original a original song and dance 

“That’s weird even for me”

LILY DONT YOU EFFING DARE INSULT ASHLYN I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF

“She’s better than this” Next scene is Miss. Jenn dancing with the enemy

Around you is my least favorite song of the season. That being said, the singing is good

RICKY LOOK THE OTHER WAY

“Tom Holland on stilts” 

“That man is ridiculous and you should dump him and date me” ANTOINE THAT IS A HORRIBLE THING TO SAY BUT ITS SO FUNNY

i love antoine

dj antoine in the house!

“I knew you all didn’t like the Mob Song”

“What kind of budget” THANK YOU KOURTNEY

nini straight up said “see ya”

how is no one questioning why someone is in costume? didn’t lily say no costumes?

also how is howie beast playing guitar with those gloves?

YAY KOURTNEY

ANDREW BARTH FELDMAN EVERYONE

seb really said “go get em babe”

CARLOS POP OFF

i love how frankie was singing in his lower range or it was just autotune

ASHLYN I LOVE YOU YASSSSS

nice save, antoine. do i ship? idk, but it was cute.

mob song was good. the solos were pretty good as well as the dancing but the background track...not my style. it was enjoyable tho.

SALTY BIG RED

“No, Nini’s Rose Song.”

im so glad they addressed why the rose song cant be used. its a really good song and olivia sings it perfectly but it doesn’t make sense for the plot and you cant alter text.

“Ej you had one job”

nini really likes leaving

Zack you are an adult it is high school theater not the World Series

“it’s just a song, ricky” I think you kinda, ya know wasn’t “just a song”. Out of the Old wasn’t “just a song”. All I want wasn’t “just a song”. How is Rose Song any different?

gina and ej goofing off is awesome

seb and carlos being the theater dads watching over their children

ope- howie turn your phone off

carlos and seb really said “bye, have fun” THEY BOLTED

ummm...yeah

you can see how much howie regretted in that moment

“I’m Nina” ooo interesting is she going to go by Nina now?

Overall, I really enjoyed the episode. The stakes are high and I’m glad the other relationships are getting screen time. The balance was good this week, I wish it was like this every week. My only issue is how underdeveloped the plot was this episode, but beside that it was pretty good.

[snacc-noir]

Unseal and Reveal

You may remember @jattendschaton‘s amazing idea for Chat and Lb writing their identities in envelopes for emergency reasons, then I added, what if Nathalie finds it hidden in Adrien’s room and assumes it was attached to a romantic gift, leading them to think Marinette was his girlfriend and confronting Adrien about it-

and yes it was a while ago and yes it’s been written but I couldn’t not write a dramatic addition myself, so now with permission from the idea op, i will present basically the crack version 

( @hermionemonica @lady-charinette @aremmen @laadychat y’all got it but you’re getting it again)

-

Her idea sounds affable at the start.

Notice: her idea.

Ladybug’s.

(He’s just putting that out there before anything starts.)

The new guardian is pacing on rooftops, pen smartly rolling between fingers even though she’s focussed on nothing of it. She’s mulling, debating, as if they hadn’t agreed to this lawed debauchery five minutes ago. It’s not even bad, he knows, and although the thrill has set a kind of buzz under his skin, Chat’s not exactly worried.  

He never is, is he?

The paper smiles at him where he’s relaxing, the paper that will soon have her name. There’s an odd temptation to put the untouched stack in his mouth. Maybe he’s tired of waiting, or maybe he just really wants the paper. Maybe it’s a cat thing.  

“And we can’t let anyone see the envelopes.”

“Well, duh,” he says, as if he’s sure that’s not going to happen.

“Hide it. Keep it safe, don’t, uh, don’t open it unless—”

“You trust me, right M’lady?”

Her hand crunches the pen. A sigh. “More than anyone.”

She’s nervous, of course; no one is supposed to know either of their identities, and here they are planning to materialise them. But it’s for the best, they reason, with her being guardian and having no one to know who she is in case of a dire emergency.

Emergency, he reminds himself. Only in an emergency. In fact, it’s likely for nothing. He doesn’t want there to be an emergency, and he doesn’t want that to be how he finds her identity, but he also doesn’t want to never know the name sealed in the scarlet envelope.

When she finally sits, she scribbles on the pink paper, guarding even the movement of her hands by hiked knees. Chat takes time writing his message, dotting smiles and pictures when she’s already up to licking the paper as if the more salvia guarantees more seal.

Reluctantly, she passes it.

-

The first week, Adrien glances at the spot behind his CD rack at least twice a day.

Three months, then four, and he’s slim to completely forgetting he has access to the love of his life’s identity – the best superhero in Paris, the most beautiful and competent woman in the world, the—

“Adrien. Your father requests a serious discussion in the atrium.”

And her identity is especially forgotten the afternoon he realises his may be on the line.

-

Nathalie finds a red letter in the masked cabinet of Adrien’s CD shelf two minutes after believing this whole “catch why Adrien’s disappearing” thing would uncover nothing. When designing the Agreste mansion, it seems Gabriel’s request for secretive spots in his future offspring’s room to catch them hiding admonishments in later years succeeded in the very end.  

Because this is far too suspicious not to take back.

A pink note inside, a scrawl of a feminine name within hearts. Addressed, “to the best partner ever”, and alarmingly cryptic. No other message. Possibly, it could’ve attached to a romantic gift.  

Gabriel Agreste knows exactly what it means.

-

“Adrien.”

His voice is ice as always. His face is unreadable as always – though Adrien’s found guessing “disappointed” proves correct eighty percent of the time. So although the poor boy is dying for some indication that his father has not found out he is Chat Noir, there is nothing to pick up from the scene: Gabriel’s passive, and Nathalie, as always, stands a bit off with a face almost the same – like a sibling that’s ratted another out and is mirroring the scolding authority, even to the way her arms are behind her.  

Adrien swallows.

“Fathe—”

“How long did you believe you could keep your impractical relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng from members of this household?”

Uh…

…

Um.

Frankly, Adrien’s never been more confused in his life.

Excuse him,

But what?!

Adrien’s alarmed, squinting, and even the hounding worries pause to make sure they’ve heard right as Nathalie pulls her hand into view.

Marinette. Relationship. Him. No mention of Chat Noir.

Yeah… what?

“What do y—”

His eyes leap. Nathalie’s hand.

The envelope.

The envelope.

Red, unsealed, and far too familiar.

Adrien stills.

“I don’t tolerate this insulting feign ignorance. Explain this immediately.”

“Explain…”

How his mouth even does that baffles him – not like he could physically be any more baffled, but if he could, any words that could manage out his gaping face would’ve increased his puzzlement.

Marinette.

Marinette.

Marinette.

The Dupain-Cheng Marinette.

Her name was already bouncing in his head the second his father phrased an incredulous question that implied he’s dating her��his sweet and adorable and talented good friend—but you know, now—

Now.

Well, now he kind of wishes he is.

Identity. Ladybug. Envelope. Marinette.

The card is faced so he can read the confirmation of his last suspicions. He’s too close to pretend it’s too blurry to read, even to himself, so the startlement of his eyes catch every, single, scribble – every word, every letter, every heart.

‘To the best partner ever.’

And beside a dash, trying to look like the smallest signage ever, is franticly scrawled,

‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’

Oh no.

“Why do you appear happy?”

Happy? Uh, no, no! This is awful.

“I’m not happy.”  

“You’re clearly smiling.”

He totally isn’t.

“I’m not!”

“Adrien, you seem on the verge of tears.”

He stifles a fist on his mouth. “What?”

“You seem like you’re about to burst,” Nathalie probes.

His father runs him over with a cold look. “Amused, Adrien? Is this matter pleasing you?”

No way! This– This is terrible.  

Atrocious even! He knows Ladybug’s identity!  

“I’m devastated,” he says, eyes wet and grin hurting.

Ladybug’s identity.

His fist hurts his mouth. A small noise fissures behind his hands.

“Did you– Did you just squeal?”

“Absolutely not!”  

This is, truly, the worst news.

“Enough of these games, Adrien! You have disobeyed your authorities with all this tomfoolery and damaged how you excel in your extracurriculars. This secret affair is to be terminated, unless you can explain. If you can even recover this, that i—are you crying?”

To be fair, he didn’t mean to break down in sobs, but you know he feels no one can blame him understanding all that is happening right now. Plus, it’s more a dignified silent weeping (if you ignore how he’s practically vibrating) amongst muted chokes.

“I’m not, Father.” He wipes his face, hoping it takes his grin off too. (It doesn’t. Nothing can.) “Continue.”

Gabriel clears his throat. Nathalie’s still holding the note, not sure what to do with Adrien, whether it be… no, comforting’s never been an option.  

“Can you reason this affiliation?”

“That I’m dating Marinette?”

Gabriel nods, his face souring.

Adrien realises that, although there’s technically many things he can do and say, he doesn’t have a clue what. His options seem… pretty inexistent. So he narrows his criteria down:

1. He has to say he’s dating Marinette.

(Pretty easy, that wishful lie is already established.)

2. He must make sure he stays dating Marinette.

But then he realises he’s freaking Chat Noir and lying to save identities is pretty much most of job.  

“She tutors me. Ever since you were disappointed in my A- in Maths, she’s helped me in most subjects so I wouldn’t drop grades in them as well, so we started hanging out more and, well one thing lead to another…” He rubs his neck. “She makes me happy, Father. I was falling behind because I haven’t been too happy since Mum left, and Marinette, she, well,”

He beams, shiny-eyed and damp-cheeked. “She’s made me feel happy again.”

Ha, not even his Grinch-of-a-dad can say no to that.

Reason, sentiment, hitting the soft spot with mum? – yeah, that was good.

His father’s gaze is calculating, and if emotion ever touches him, it may have flickered in his eyebrows, but it smooths like steal.  

Nathalie glances at her boss.

“Is that so?” Gabriel muses. “I… can see what even the mention of her can bring you to. This must have been… some gift attached.” The way he gives him a once-over should make Adrien feel embarrassed, not chuffed, but it does.  

Gabriel thinks for seconds longer. The space in the Agreste atrium burns with tense anticipation that stretches Adrien’s sense of time.  

His father steps down and places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Continue to the tutoring if it picks up your grades. But monitor how much you sneak around, and try not to let schoolwork distract you from extracurriculars too much.”

And just like that, Gabriel Agreste is—

“One more thing. Nathalie, book me an appointment. I see it that Marinette Dupain-Cheng will soon be attending a dinner.”

–Causing Adrien more problems.

Thaaaat’s right. Proving the lie. With Marinette.

With Ladybug.

With Marinette!

“Eeep!”

Nathalie jolts her gaze to him, panic set in her flamed eyes as he stares back awkwardly.  

“I’ll– I’ll go call her.”

After he screams a million times, of course.  

[itsclydebitches]

Clyyddee sksksks you mentioned in the recap that CRWBY is showing their contrivances WELL they did it again in the Penny vs Aceops fight because when Marrow uses his STAY it just highlights the continuous problem with his existence: Why Didn't You Lead With That? I bet thats why he's so likely to go turncoat because he's too powerful to leave on the villain side :SCREAMS:

Right? There are a lot of little details I didn’t get into because I was #busy today and paired my recap down to get it done... but Marrow remains an exercise in frustration: 

Why is he suddenly willing to fight/use his semblance against Penny when he was “holding back” against Ruby’s team? Both are allies. Marrow has arguably spent a lot more time with Penny given the months between her resurrection and the group’s arrival. He’s clearly still conflicted (that shot of him looking sad), but his willingness to fight seriously flips depending on what the plot needs for the group: make Marrow not do much so they can win, then make him serious to reinforce how awful the Ace Ops are (with the convenient ‘We only need Penny’s sword’ element thrown in so him fighting seriously still doesn’t lead to them losing). 

As you say... why didn’t he lead with that? There��s even a moment when one of his teammates (I forget who) yells, “Now!” to tell Marrow to use his semblance, but what was the point of having a whole battle first? Especially in a situation where Maiden!Penny should be able to wipe the floor with them? Just have Marrow use ‘Stay’ on all of them during the conversation. If RT needs to ignore semblances for long stretches to ‘justify’ having a battle in their action show, then they either need to get more creative with their reasons for fights starting (even though Salem is.... right there...) or stop giving characters such OP semblances. 

Finally, going off of my comments about Ruby this episode, I can’t take Marrow’s struggle seriously when others (the heroes) are expanding on their semblances with such ease. Why can’t Marrow make the whole group Stay? Why is he only able to keep Penny still for a short while? The answer to both these questions, provided by the fandom, would be a simple, “Well, his semblance isn’t that strong.” Yet the heroes inexplicably don’t have these same sort of limitations? Their semblances are always, miraculously exactly as powerful as they need to be to get the job done. In the same episode we watched Ruby instantly learn how to carry four people, yet you know Marrow suddenly learning how to ‘Stay’ six people would be considered “unrealistic.” Marrow only has seconds before he’s about to lost control over Penny, but Nora can suddenly absorb enough energy to blow the door off. Not without consequences - I’m glad those exist - but the point is she was able to do it. We don’t see our antagonists suddenly leap forward in terms of skill like that, so as to challenge the heroes, because the very structure of power leveling in this world exists to serve the protagonists. RWBY isn’t interested in asking questions like, “How powerful would a guy be who finished his huntsmen training, joined what’s arguably the most elite fighting group in the world, had months/years worth of experience under them, and possessed a semblance that someone as pragmatic as Ironwood would insist he cultivate? What if power was actually trained and nurtured, rather than just conveniently showing up when the heroes most need it?” Yet we have the opposite. A team that has every reason to excel continually fails for... reasons, and the team that does a bit of generic training off screen hits power ups simply because the plot needs them to. A story where Ruby falls out of her semblance trying to carry that many people, or Nora knocks herself out without getting the door open seems almost impossible at this point because it would require the team fail and face consequences in a way the story insists on avoiding. 

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

The Long Game ch. 5

Rayla sighed as she felt Callum’s forehead.  “He’s still burning up.”  The doctor sighed, gesturing towards the medicine to the side.

“Make sure he takes it, Lady Rayla.”

“OK.”  Rayla barely noticed as the doctor left the room. Callum had come down with a high fever and a sore throat a few days ago, complaining of aches and shaking as he grew pale very quickly.  The past 24 hours, he had barely been conscious, and when he was, his gaze was unfocused and his breathing worse. 

Rayla had barely left his side since he became bedridden, finding it difficult to leave him.  The whispers that it was improper couldn’t get her to leave him.  Harrow visited frequently and Ezran rarely left the room, either.  Currently, Ezran was discussing something important with Opeli. Rayla should care, it was her job to care, but she didn’t.  Gently, she held Callum’s hand and ran her thumb along the back of his hand.  “Get better.  Please.  I can’t do this without you.”  What even was ‘this’?  Her mission? No.  Life?  Maybe. “I need you.”

“Is everything OK?” Ezran asked from behind.  Rayla didn’t even turn around, nodding as her eyes remained on Callum’s prone form.

“The doctor didn’t look pleased, but he said Callum needs to keep taking the medicine.”

“That’s probably the best we could have hoped for.”  Ezran sat in the chair on the other side, Bait in his lap.  “Maybe if you told him you love him-”

“Stop it, Ez.  I don’t love him.”

“Why are you lying? Everyone can see it. Well, not him.”

Rayla looked over at Ezran, shaking her head.  “No, Ezran. He’s meant for something better than me. That’s final.”

“Why are you like this? You two wouldn’t be the first couple where someone was from a royal background and the other person wasn’t.”

Rayla stayed quiet. She knew the real answer why she couldn’t be with Callum, but Ezran didn’t.  “He needs more water.  I’ll get a maid to go get some.”

“Rayla-”

“Let it go, Ezran.  Please.  My feelings are not important.  I’ll ask for them to bring us dinner here, too, OK?”  Ezran sighed, but nodded in assent.  Bait looked at her with concern.  Great, the glowing frog was also worried about her.

Rayla grabbed a passing maid, asking for water and dinner.  Instead of heading back in and risk being interrogated by Ezran again, she took a walk around the castle.  Everyone stared at her like she was a ghost.  They had barely seen her in a few days, but was it really that surprising? The sunlight against her skin as she passed the windows felt nice, warm.  “He’s going to get better, right?” she whispered into the air.

She hadn’t seen Claudia since Callum fell ill, despite how often she tried to hang around nowadays. Rayla didn’t trust it.  Viren had to be up to something.  The longer she was here, the clearer it was that anything involving dark magic was Viren’s idea and that he convinced Harrow to take that route.  Harrow didn’t trust dark magic anymore, supposedly, and they fought constantly.  

“You can’t be serious!” Rayla turned to the door on her right, shocked that it was Harrow’s study she had found herself in front of. She quietly opened the door, looking in to see Viren and Harrow arguing.  “No more dark magic!”

“Xadia hasn’t attacked us, Harrow!”

“GREAT! Excellent!  Why are we tempting fate?”

“Because that girl-”

“Do you mean Rayla?”

“Yes, her.  She came in out of nowhere, no evidence of what she claimed anywhere, and you just took her in.  What if she’s a spy?”

“She’s a child, Viren.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. What if all of this is a ploy to get access to you?  What if she wants to marry one of your sons?”

“She’ll have my blessing if she and Callum actually confess their feelings for each other.”

“I can’t believe you are encouraging them.  You should be encouraging Callum to pay attention to Claudia.”

“Viren, Claudia likes girls. Everyone has known that since she the incident with the bakery girl.  Why are you so desperate for the two of them to be miserable?”

“Because it would unite our houses!”

“And, what, Viren? Bring you back into my good graces? Make me forget what you did to that egg?!”  Rayla’s eyes widened, wrapping her hand around her mouth to keep the gasp from escaping. They still hadn’t discovered she was there, but she wasn’t going to risk them learning.  

“It doesn’t matter, Harrow.”

“IT WAS AN EGG!  An innocent!  Killing Thunder because he killed Sarai was one thing.  But you killed his egg and took a magic mirror. And the Dragon Guard?  You want to explain to me what happened to them?”

“I told you, they ran away!”

“I don’t believe you. What did you do?”  Viren was quiet for so long Rayla didn’t know if that was the end of the conversation or not.  She heard clinking followed by a gasp from Harrow.  “What have you done?!”  She couldn’t see through the crack, but whatever Viren had showed him, it had caused Harrow’s face to go pale.  “They were people-”

“Elves who were going to kill us!”

“You can’t prove that! If you had just left the damned egg alone, Viren.  What have you done?  Free them at once!”

“No.”

“Viren!”

“NO!  That just leaves a bunch of elves running around Katolis!”

“How many do you have?” Viren was quiet again.  “Gods, how long have you been doing this?  Do you keep them for experiments?”

“No.  I’ve never released them.”  Released them from what?  Rayla wanted to know what was happening, but neither Harrow nor Viren was being explicit enough. What if…whatever it was, it was her parents?  Did something happen to her parents?  Had they not abandoned the Dragon Prince after all?  “Whose to say what would happen if they were ever released from the coins.”

‘Coins?’  

Rayla didn’t have time to contemplate it.  Harrow growled a ‘get out’ and she had to quickly move away as Viren stormed out of the room.  He saw her and glared.

“You don’t belong here, girl.”  Viren walked away, not turning back to her.  

Rayla looked in the study only to see Harrow slouched in his chair.  He looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  “Your Majesty?”  He looked up, nodding.  “Is everything alright?”

“Fine.  How’s Callum?”

“The doctor said that he needs to continue with his medicine.”

“Of course.  He’ll be fine, then.  Will you and Ezran be having dinner in his room again this evening?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Please, Rayla, call me ‘Harrow.’”  She nodded.

“Harrow, I heard you and Viren arguing.”

“Don’t mind it, Rayla, please.  Just too old men arguing about old things.”

“But, you mentioned the Dragon King.”

“Rayla.  I trust you, I do, but I need you to understand that I have not always done the right thing.  I’ve let my grief consume me.”  Rayla waited for him to continue, sensing that if she said a word, he wouldn’t tell her more. “In my grief, I made a bad decision. I went with Viren on a mission of revenge, to kill the Dragon King for killing Sarai.  Sarai deserved to live.”

“But, Sarai took a life.”

Harrow looked down at the ground, a tear going down his cheek.  “She shouldn’t have been there.  She went because she believed we should stand together, but she didn’t believe in the mission.  She thought it was a shortcut.  And what happened?  She was right.  It worked, but it cost us her life.  Ezran has no memories of her and Callum was effectively orphaned.  It was my fault.  If I had just made a decision sooner, if I had been smarter with the Queens of Duren….”

Rayla placed a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it.  “I’m sorry. Everything I’ve heard has made her out to be a wonderful person.  She didn’t deserve to die.  Do you regret any of it?”

“I don’t know.  I regret how things have played out and for letting Viren persuade me into using dark magic, but I don’t feel regret for killing Thunder.”

“What about the egg?”

“I have no idea what Viren’s done with that egg.  I wonder if he destroyed it or used it or is lying to me.  Either way, it was an innocent and should have been left alone. What if Xadia comes for my sons in revenge?”  Rayla gulped. ‘That’s why I’m here, Your Highness.’  

“Maybe you should ban dark magic.  Stop Ezran from having those same choices offered to him?”

“Viren has too much influence.  It’s my own fault.  Taking away dark magic could leave use defenseless.  Besides, Xadia would get what it has always wanted but what about letting us back in?”

“What if that’s what it would take?  An act of good will?”

“It’s too late for me. It’s not too late for Ezran and Callum, though.  My hope is that they will choose peace every time.  Some day soon, I hope you will stand with them.”

“Me?”

Harrow finally looked up. His green eyes were full of such hope and sorrow it almost broke Rayla’s own heart.  “I see the way you look at Callum.  Your souls are screaming for each other.  You never deny it; your feelings or that he has them for you.  Why don’t you act on it?”

“Because, I am not meant for this life.  Because I don’t think he loves me the way you and everyone else seems convinced he is. Even if he was, you can’t rewrite the stars for two people.  I have to return to him.  Good day, Harrow.”  Rayla curtsied to Harrow before he could say more and left.  The egg could still be alive.  The Dragon Prince could still be alive!  She was going to have to search every corner of this castle until she knew for sure whether or not that was true.

For now, she had to return to Callum and Ezran.  When she got back to the room, Callum’s eyes were half-open.  He groaned, hand reaching out towards her.  She rushed forward, taking his hand in her’s and holding it to her chest.  “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.  I’m sorry I was so long.”

Ezran stayed quiet, but she could feel his eyes on her.  Rayla didn’t care.  She fed Callum his dinner and barely left except to bathe and take the occasional walk. When Callum recovered three days later, he awoke to Rayla holding his hand, a relieved smile on her face.  “Morning, sleepyhead.  We missed you.”

[goodbysunball]

Quarantine rock, pt. III

Another long overdue update from the indoors. Hope you and yours are hanging in there - if nothing else, there’s no shortage of great music to keep you company. Here’s my take on some recent favorites.

C. Lavender, Myth of Equilibrium (Editions Mego)

Admittedly had not heard of C. Lavender until her collaborative cassette with Aaron Dilloway dropped earlier this year, but it’s safe to say that the tape was strong enough to blindly buy her new LP on Editions Mego. Myth of Equilibrium has been one of the best surprises from this year, drone at its core but opening up to something much more soothing over repeated listens, despite the jagged edges and tendency to embrace caustic noise. It came as no surprise to find out that C. Lavender embraces sound as a healing medium, as Myth of Equilibrium takes a deep, buzzing bass tone and twists and stretches it until individual packets of sound are weightless and ethereal. “Remedy Potion Extraction” is the most obvious example of this dark-to-light transformation C. Lavender excels at, but mostly the tracks present a satisfying puree of sound over shorter durations (”Engulf the Mystery,” “Dimly Lit Exit”). The brevity is a strength, and in that way C. Lavender reminds me of French duo Femme or even some of Tim Hecker’s work, but without the startling track-to-track transitions of the former or the diaphanous shroud of the latter. The bass keeps Myth of Equilibrium tangible and firmly grounded, and the rest of the sounds conjured by C. Lavender weave a very heady, very rich tapestry. The best respite from 2020 money can buy; soak it in. The LP is sold out from Editions Mego but those in the US can order it direct from C. Lavender for a very fair price.

Kobra, Confusione (Iron Lung)

Alright, I’m admittedly not a huge fan of the cover art for this record, but it’s an easy enough barrier to jump over when the music rips this hard. Kobra is from Italy, and they traffic in a mid-paced, pounding strain of punk that is right up my alley. Sounds like Una Bèstia Incontrolable meets Mecht Mensch to these ears: like the title track, which starts out like “Zombie” and then flips into a UBI-level groove, sax bleating and moaning on top of it all. This is punk through and through, the blown-out drums always there to remind you that this is presented by Iron Lung Records, but there’s a definite early post-punk/art-rock vibe present, too - check the groggy “Fogna” that opens up side B, which kinda sounds like Kobra doing their best impression of the Circle Jerks in Repo Man. The guitars don’t riff as much as they slash and chop, fragmented stabs landing among the onslaught of drums. The vocalist uses a menacing speak-scream (most effectively on ”Sogni Illusioni” and closer “C.P.D.M.”), and if I could speak or read Italian, I’m sure the lyrics would be intelligible amongst the din. Confusione is loaded with hits, but when the band clicks and all the parts come together, Kobra whips up a maelstrom; hard to deny the power of “Dentro Agli Schermi” (my favorite track) or “C.P.D.M.,” and though both of those tracks feature the saxophone, I’m glad the band wields that weapon sparingly for maximum effect. One of the most memorable and exciting punk releases of 2020, for sure, a formidable, brawny brew that’ll flex your pencil neck and have you involuntarily pogoing in no time. Highest recommendation! Confusione is sold out direct from Iron Lung, but Sorry State, Feel It, Grave Mistake, etc. all have it in stock.

Oily Boys, Cro Memory Grin (Cool Death)

The best musical news this year, hands-down: NEW OILY BOYS. Not only was an Oily Boys LP drop completely unexpected, I am completely steamrolled by this record every single time I drop the needle, from the opening “UGH!” on “Given” to the nearly nine minutes of caustic self-loathing on “GTrance.” There’s a definite metallic edge to the way Oily Boys approach punk, from the riffing to Drew Bennett’s brutally intense vocal performance, but while most punkers approach metal as a gimmick and end up sounding pretty tame, Oily Boys just sound absolutely mad - the 1-2 of “C.B.D.” into “My Sex Life,” especially the wild guitar theatrics on the latter, carry an intense, teeth-clenching physicality. If that was all Oily Boys did on this LP, it’d be a success, but the band throws curveballs and mid-tempo fits across Cro Memory Grin’s 13 tracks. “Heat Harmony” was the most jarring inclusion at first, relatively tuneful dark punk that could’ve been lifted from drummer Yuta Matsumura’s other band Orion. It definitely works, and the slightly softened approach of the band thankfully has no effect on Drew Bennett’s vocals. “Lizard Scheme” is another detour, swelling noise and Bennett’s barking (”Stupid is as stupid does, jazz boy!” is a choice lyric), reminiscent of Gutter Gods’ dizzying “Allan.” Probably the two most pummeling tracks here slow the tempos significantly and close out each side: “Stick Him,” my favorite track, and “GTrance,” the exhaustive closer. “Stick Him” is absolutely ferocious, the band emphasizing the quiet-loud dynamic with saxophone, the loud parts lurching into place like heavy machinery turning on, Bennett screaming the title with a violent ferocity. Where “Stick Him” is feral, the screed unleashed on “GTrance” by Bennett feels therapeutic, expelling every bit of toxic bile into the song without a break, and even if there is no resolution, the end result is a momentary peace, the same kind afforded by pushing to the full extent of one’s mental or physical abilities. That kinda seems like the point of Oily Boys, from the self-effacing name to the poisonous lyrical content to the absolutely ferocious performance: know your enemies, push back against the lowering boot of the world, fuck the rest. 2020′s best punk record, no contest, and maybe even the best record/soundtrack to the perfect storm of this year. Sick artwork/inserts on this LP, a nice job as usual from Cool Death. Cro Memory Grin is still available direct from them, and Goner still has it domestically.

Subdued, Over the Hills and Far Away (Roachleg)

With last year’s Bad Breeding LP still fresh and prescient as ever, and the political climate seemingly spiraling into reality TV while people mercilessly struggle and suffer all over, it seemed like scoping this new LP from the UK’s Subdued was more than appropriate. It’s reductive and maybe a little offensive to mention UK compatriots Bad Breeding in the first line of this review, but the similarities are hard to ignore: both bands create fiery politically-charged punk that flirts with metal and noise, delivered in screamed vocals with a heavy British accent. Subdued don’t fly off the rails as much as Bad Breeding; there’s more of a Crass/Rudimentary Peni vibe, with the emphasis on vocal delivery and riffs rather than conjuring a visceral tornado of noise. Sometimes the riffs can be a little clunky (particularly the end of “The Joke,” even though “Is hope the joke?” is a pretty powerful lyric), and for how much room the vocals are given, the lyrics can tread into oft-used clichés. Doesn’t make the message any less true, and I think the longer I spend with Over the Hills and Far Away, the more I come under its spell. “Problem of Evil” is probably the best song here, a near-perfect blend of deathrock, stomping riffs and barked vocals, and when it turns into the sprint of “No More,” Subdued are an undeniable force. Not sure if it just takes me until those two songs to warm up to Over the Hills, but the B-side of the LP seems to be more memorable - like the world-beating metallic riffs of the title track, or the frenetic guitar solo that finishes off “Call to Suffer.” There’s more than enough at play on Over the Hills to keep me coming back, and overall it’s a strong debut LP, and a great reason to check in with what Roachleg Records is bringing to the US punk scene. Cop the LP direct from Roachleg, and if you’re lucky you might have a chance at one of the limited-to-100 hand-screened covers. La Vida Es Un Mus put out the LP for the rest of the world, another solid co-sign for Subdued.

Aviador Dro, Nuclear, Sí 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus) // Algara, Enamorados Del Control Total 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus)

I don’t think these two 7″s have much in common other than the fact that they’re both put out by La Vida Es Un Mus, they’re both sung in Spanish and they’ve both been ruling my turntable this year. The Aviador Dro record is a reissue, one that came out last year, and it’s a gem: sci-fi keyboard punk from the '80s, the titular track one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, a slinking, funky beat driving the song into your brain forevermore. The B-side feels more edgy than the A-side but it’s all undeniably great; Paco did us all a favor by repressing this record, and continuing to keep it in print. Fast forward to 2020 for Algara’s 7″, their debut, which came out way back in pre-pandemic January. The cover art caught my eye, and the spindly, groovy drum-machine post-punk within is immediately addictive. The label says Crisis and Joy Division are in Algara’s musical DNA, and that sounds about right; the sound is spare, you can kinda dance to it, the bass lines carry the weight and the wiry guitars smear into each other (”Miedo a Perder”) or stitch single golden threads into the tapestry (”Dopamina y Producción”). Algara’s a 4-piece now, and they’ve got an LP coming soon on LVEUM, so 2021′s lookin’ bright. Both 7″s are mandatory, widely available from distros and direct from La Vida Es Un Mus. Scope the feature that Lulu’s wrote on Algara while you’re at it.

Saskia, Eeuwig Op Reis 7″ (Stroom)

The record collector sweat starts when you read about a 7″ reissued from a “highly intimate cassette” limited to ten or so copies in 1983, circulated only amongst friends and family. My eyes typically roll at such uncovered “gems” or whatever, but these two songs definitely deserve a wider audience. “My Lips Get Hot” splits the difference between the foggy late night atmosphere conjured by Chromatics and a breezy Balearic vibe, topped by sensual, high-pitched vocals that really drive the whole woozy, lovesick message home. The flip has the instrumental “You Left Your Soul Behind,” wherein said Balearic vibe is now at the forefront. It’s a strong track on its own, but kinda just serves as the comedown from “My Lips Get Hot” in this presentation. Stroom continues to unearth overlooked records with unnerving ease, and this Saskia 7″ might be the one that makes the label a more common name. One copy of this record is left at Stroom’s Bandcamp as of this writing - move quick.

Glen Schenau, “Jhumble” b/w “Jearnest” (self-released)

Glen Schenau is at the forefront of Brisbane’s experimental musical scene; he’s done time in Kitchen’s Floor, Bent and has even self-released a few things under his own name. The solo stuff I’ve checked by him was restless, frantic guitar and bass lines seemingly swimming against the current of his Bryan Ferry crooning. While there’s no denying that it was singular, it never really coalesced for me in the same way that this new 7″ does. That same restlessness is still at play here, obvious from the beginning strumming of “Jhumble,” and Schenau seems to still relish the vocal stylings of Ferry, though his vocals also remind me of some of the alterna-rock radio I was subjected to while working in a warehouse during summers between school. Normally that sort of vocal homage would send me running to the hills, but it really works here: the busy guitar line and the drums lock into an undeniable groove on “Jhumble,” and whatever Glen is singing, the melody is stuck in my head for days. “Jearnest” is my pick, the more difficult foil to “Jhumble”’s pop leanings. The sprightly guitar at the beginning is submerged into this rubbery goo, which eventually takes over the song while a whistle floats in to carry a melody over the tarry pit. Can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like it, but it doesn’t just float along on that claim; this is a highly potent brew served up on both sides of this single. Glen self-released this record and it’s limited to 150 copies; mine came with a hand-written note and drawing, which was a nice touch. High marks all around. I’ve got to echo Matt K.’s sentiments when he reviewed this record: “Seems like every Australian band gets their own album without much delay, so I have to ask: where the hell is Glen Schenau’s?!”

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

The Salted Coffee Hit List

Summary: When it’s your turn to go undercover, some technical difficulties subject you to Neal’s mounting anxieties.

Word Count: 2,107

           “Can we move this to your office?” You asked, tilting your head, baring your neck and subtly trying to get Ryan, an embezzling broker, to notice the faux diamonds plated in your earrings. He wasn’t versed enough in jewelry to tell they weren’t real.

           Ten stories down and fifteen yards away, Neal and Peter were in collapsible chairs in the back of a van marked as an electrical service. Neal listened intently, his heart beating harder than it did when he was the one working an op. You didn’t have the experience he did, and this dirtbag owned two guns – and those were just the ones that were registered.

           “Don’t push him too fast,” Neal warned, leaning in as if the surveillance equipment could somehow bring him closer to you. Maybe if he felt it hard enough, you would telepathically hear, the thief reasoned. He didn’t see the steady green light on the hardware. “You don’t want him to spook.” He wished he were inside with you.

           “I think she’s got it handled,” Peter intervened, tone mild. You kept your face even but were grateful that the agent was stepping in. If Neal was fretting in your ear this entire time, it would be a challenge to stay patient.

           Ryan looked behind you, put his hands in the pockets of his crisp black trousers, and looked back at you with a small smirk. His eyes didn’t linger on your jewelry – not the not-diamond earrings, nor the shining glimmer of pearls around your neck.

           “Maybe we should wait. I’d hate to make a poor deal because you were hasty.”

           Neal could barely keep his feet still, and he saw no point in holding his tongue. You didn’t respond well when someone talked to you with that tone of voice. He couldn’t blame you, but he also couldn’t bear it if your temper let this end badly. “Just let it go,” he said. Neal Caffrey had too much pride to beg… but he didn’t mind emphatically suggesting with his hands steepled. The brunet turned to Peter. “You should have gone in,” he said again, repeating himself from earlier. “You have the accounting background, she doesn’t.”

           It took all of your willpower not to twitch. Between this rich, pompous jerk looking down at you like your pretty gems meant you had a slow brain, and Neal questioning your ability to do your job, you were losing patience rapidly. Man, that boy was going to get a talking-to after this was over.

           “I know what I’m doing,” you said clearly and firmly, to both of the men on your nerves. Ryan’s eyebrows raised, a little surprised by the stubbornness in your voice. You couldn’t see Neal’s face, but you hoped he was cowed.

           Two seconds later, you realized he wasn’t. “She’s pushing him,” Neal groaned quietly, putting his head down.

           “I see.” Ryan was measured but civil. You were glad that this meeting had been arranged at a time when there happened to be another person in the company’s lounge. The broker nodded and you caught a glimpse at the top of his head – he wore so much gel that the overhead lights were reflecting off his hair. “Well, let’s take it to the office, then. We can talk in privacy.”

           You nodded archly, letting him know that you weren’t taking no for an answer. He gestured to the hall and you went first, letting him direct you verbally towards his office. In the van, Peter gave a small, proud smile. He knew you could do it. You were well-trained and very resourceful, and no one spent as much time around Neal as you did without picking up on a few things.

           Ryan’s office was pristine – almost sterile, even. It felt impersonal and uncomfortable, as if it were pulled from an IKEA brochure and was only there for show. It corroborated with your knowledge of the man himself as a control freak. The desk was a bright, reddish-color of a polished, expensive wood and the high-backed office chair was upholstered with suede. Ryan pulled out a less impressive chair (but still padded with suede) for you before making his way around and sitting at his desk. He leaned back and put his arms up over him, locking his hands behind his head.

           “Let’s talk shop,” he said, putting his eyes on you. His body was relaxed, his face was amused, and his eyes were hawkish. You inclined your chin just slightly. You saw through that friendly demeanor… but you weren’t going to call him on it. It was better to let it play out.

           Neal tensed, shaking his head. Talking shop was the last thing you should be doing – you didn’t have enough knowledge of accounting or investing. “No, no, no.”

           “Let’s,” you agreed, ignoring Neal’s muttering voice.

           “The entire meet is gonna be blown,” Neal told Peter, increasingly frustrated. The minute Ryan realized you weren’t really who you said you were, he was going to shut you down and kick you out and clean up after himself, this time with a lot more caution. And hell, it wouldn’t do to forget about those two registered guns. What did he need two guns for, anyway?!

           The look that Peter gave him was less amused than it had been before. “Stop that,” he said, delivering a sound smack to Neal’s shoulder. “Calm down. Unless you want me to tell her how many times you insisted she was going to fail?”

           You appreciated the threat, but you were already keeping score. And unless Peter shut up, too, he was going to be added to your little hit list of whose coffee to dump salt in.

           Neal quieted and considered. He trusted you, but he was very worried. He liked being on your good side and didn’t want to make you think he didn’t believe in your ability to do the job – and do it well, at that – but he also didn’t want to stay calm when you were up there, on your first undercover mission in months, in a room alone with a guy who had two guns. Maybe in that very room. He listened so he could be on his toes and run in as soon as things seemed even a little bit off.

           “My portfolio has risen by three percent this quarter and by eleven since this time last year,” Ryan announced. If you were feeling more generous, you might have called him prideful – but tense as you already were, you just thought he was being egotistic. You leaned into your chair, mirroring his posture. “And in this economy, that means something. I can’t afford to partner up with someone who’ll slow this firm down. My clients deserve better.”

           Yeah, because you’re so worried about what they deserve. You held your tongue. He would get his dues for stealing from his clients soon enough, but only if you held your tongue.

           “I agree,” you said, matching his tone closely. Becoming a behavioral reflection of your mark was a trick Neal had taught you, and in the few times you’d had the chance to employ the technique, it had worked surprisingly well. “Which is why I came to you instead of the dozens of other firms a taxi ride away. I only go for the best. What I need to know is if you can give your best to me.”

           “I don’t give anything. It comes at a price.” Ryan unlocked his hands and leaned over the table. You crossed your legs, left over right, and sat up with your back straight. “And it’s not cheap.”

           It was the crux of the conversation – if you said the right thing, then it was all going to be coasting for the rest of the meeting. You thought quickly, ignoring the voices that were literally in your ear.

           Neal relaxed a little. You were doing well, you were mimicking the bravado, and it sounded like you were making a subtle play on the suspect’s ego. “It’s not that I think she’ll fail,” he told Peter, shifting in his chair and turning his body towards the agent.

           In the office, you wanted to scream. It was impossible to craft your lines and manipulate the script with Neal being such a distraction every other minute! You bought time with your facial expression, looking at him and analyzing his face, proving that you were thinking it through before making a commitment.

           “I know she’s good at this. It’s just that I worry. I worry about myself, too,” he offered, just to prove to Peter that he didn’t need to report to you about how poorly you were expected to do. “I worry about myself all the time. Especially when you send me into offices that might have guns in them.”

           That made four ruined coffees for Neal Caffrey.

           “I’m sure you do,” Peter grumbled.

           “This is an investment firm,” you stressed pointedly. “People like us don’t go for cheap. We go for payoff. That’s what I’m in for, and I’m in for the long haul.”

           Ryan studied you with an excellent poker face. You wondered if he hustled people that way, too, and focused on how you were a federal agent, he had no idea, and he was going to pay for all the bad things he’d done. Even Neal had the human decency not to take from the poor. Ryan was a snake who had put people on the streets.

           “He’s not saying anything,” Neal observed, looking at Peter again.

           Tiredly, Peter responded, “Yes, Neal, I can hear everything you can.”

           “I’m mostly concerned with what we’re not hearing.”

           Salt in the coffee had seemed like a good plan when you were making it, but now you were starting to think that Neal didn’t deserve any coffee, even the disgustingly salted kind. Hm. What was worse than salted coffee?

           There wasn’t much time for you to think about it before Ryan’s poker face broke. “Payoff’s the name of the game,” he agreed, grinning broadly. He reminded you of the toothy, wide-mouthed grins of sharks. “Let’s look at this a little harder and see where we can fit you in, Ms. Y/L/N.”

~~~ The Salted Coffee Hit List ~~~

           You deserved an award. You had even decided exactly where you would put this award: in your kitchen, on the windowsill, just behind your coffeemaker. The two things that made you happiest would be sitting near each other. It was a good arrangement.

           As you were trying to decide what the plaque of the award would say, Ryan stood up from behind his shiny desk and reached across. You gave him your hand to shake as you followed his cue and rose, smoothing down the softness of your wool skirt.

           “I think this has gone very well,” Ryan said, giving you a crooked but handsome smile, except for his smug eyes. You pretended not to notice, because if you paid too much attention, your mask might slip. “I’ll contact you.”

           “When can I expect a call?” You asked, letting the man pull you by your hand out from behind your chair.

           “By the end of the week,” he promised. He dropped your hand and put his near your back, not quite touching you but herding you out of his office. Your welcome had expired.

           You let the grifter see you out the doors of the office suite. You gave him a wave over your shoulder, just a little bit flirty, before turning to walk towards the elevators down to the ground level. After you heard the heavy glass door close, you risked another look behind you. Ryan was out of sight, and you were free to talk.

           “You know your microphones have been on this whole time, right?” You hissed lowly, furious.

           In the van, Peter and Neal both looked at the recording equipment. The light indicating their line was open was indeed still on. Neal hopped up from his chair.

           “I was just really worried,” he said, grabbing at his coat and making pleading eyes at Peter. If he didn’t leave the van before you got back, he wasn’t sure he’d be leaving in one piece. He knew firsthand how annoying it was to have someone constantly talking in his ear when he was undercover.

           “Yeah, you should be,” you said darkly, “Because I’m going to kick your-“

           Your voice stopped abruptly and Neal looked up while hurriedly buttoning his jacket. Peter pulled his fingers away from the buttons, took off his headset, and set it down on top of the machine. The microphone was off on both sides.

           “Better late than never,” Peter remarked.

~~~

~~~

A/N: This was supposed to be an imagine... but it didn’t end up as one.

This was requested by an anon who said I could choose whether Neal x Reader were already together or not. I just decided to leave it vague, so it can be read as an either-or.

Requests are closed, but if you like this story and would be interested in commissioning another, my standard oneshot length is a little bit longer than this and pricing begins at $4. If you’re interested, please drop me a message/ask, or go straight to my Ko-Fi page!

[ycherener1971-blog]

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[jmvalerie]

In response to @when-they-go-low ‘s post I was tagged in...

Idk what type of anons you are getting but I just want to set the record STRAIGHT about what I experienced with KJ during Riverdale Con in Chicago instead of doing a simple reply since this is a side blog and I have a lot to say to the folks trying to make mountains out of molehills. 

(Please Note: I hate fandom drama like this but ever since I started live-blogging this con, I’ve heard and seen too many things and now that I don’t have wine and vodka in me, I can respond coherently)

1) We were told the moment we got in line for the photo ops that KJ would not be doing hugs or creative poses for photo-ops. Creation Ent. Staff was VERY clear about this and told people multiple times about this. Folks leaving the room even told others in line. So the people who tried to hug him or ask for certain poses did that without any consideration and thought they could be an exception to the ONE rule KJ had. Cole also had a ONE RULE during the convention: NO VIDEO PHOTOGRAPHY DURING HIS PANELS. So again, any videos with Cole in them, people decided “They can’t see me so I can do whatever I want!”. So as you can see, KJ was not the only person with a rule. 

2) Though I did not ask for a hug I did ask if we could shake hands and he was happy to do so before we took our picture. 

3) He was very nice during his two panels. During the Gold Pass panel, you could tell he was nervous but relaxed midway through and was laughing and smiling throughout. The Gold Pass Panel was calm and pretty quiet since we were all tired of the screaming fans from Cole’s panel the day before. The General Admission Panel he was more relaxed (he was done with all of the photo ops by this time) and just chewed gum and chilled throughout the panel. If he wasn’t comfortable answering something, Cole took over the answers for most of the panel. Which is why I think they decided to do a joint one with the two so he was more comfortable. 

4) A rumor was going around at the con that KJ wasn’t having a great day so he may be slightly stand-offish. However, my interactions with him were really great and he was very nice whenever I talked to him.

5) My autographing session with him, which I have talked about on this blog, was chill and really great. He seemed excited to meet me again (once he recognized me) and talked about my hair. We chatted about food for a hot minute (shout out to the security guard and the staff for letting me talk to KJ for a minute) and then I left after saying thanks and safe travels. I heard someone asking him for a hug behind me and the staff said no very quick. As I walked away I heard her ask again. 

Bottom line is, each celebrity is different. I’ve been to several cons (mostly huge ones) and celebrities has rules all the time. 

Sometimes they will only sign certain things (JK Rowling ONLY signed Casually Vacancy when I met her and nothing Harry Potter related)

Some love to go all out and entertain you (Ricky Whittle has the “Whittle” experience where you can get his autograph, talk with him, hug him, dance with him, and take selfies with him)

Some will have whole ass conversations with you (Tyler Posey, his now ex-fiance, and I had a 10 minute conversation when no one was in his line. I now know where the best sushi place is in Santa Monica)

Some don’t talk at all except hi (Crystal Reed didn’t talk much when I met her and just smiled.)

Some do poses (Jared and Jensen LOVE doing it)

Some prefer not to (It depends on the day for Charlie Cox. James Earl Jones NEVER touches a female in his pictures with fans)

So as you can see, KJ simply asking for no poses or hugs is NORMAL HUMAN BEHAVIOR. Saying anything along the lines of “He is a celebrity so he needs to suck it up” or “It’s his job to give me a hug when I pay to take my picture with him” is inconsiderate. Celebrities are humans with limits just like we all do. There are days that I give my mom hugs and days where I’m not comfortable touching anyone no matter who they are. And when I’m around a celebrity, NO MATTER HOW MUCH MONEY I PUT DOWN TO MEET THEM, I know that being respectable and showing you respect their limits is key for an excellent interaction. 

Just like us every day people pick up signals from strangers, celebrities do the same. The reason why some took KJ’s behavior as “rude” and others didn’t have any problems with him could be him reacting to the vibe of a person(s), environment, or current situation. 

We tend to forget that celebrities are human too. Weeks before Joan Rivers passed away, she mentioned that celebrities come from all different walks of life. That one thing people forget is that they struggle, they eat, they sleep, they cry, and they have anxiety just like the rest of us. Sure taking pictures and meeting fans are part of the business but you also have the right to put up limits just like you do in the real world. 

This was long and I was rambling a lot but I’m pissed off with people sending hate towards KJ. 

One last thing: I had a conversation with the staff before I left the con. 

One of the convos we had was talking about KJ. (Please note: I’m in marketing and I do events so I know how much staff love feedback). I asked if he was okay and they said some celebrities get nervous in these settings but they don’t want to let fans down. The convention people just try to make sure that THE CELEBRITIES experience is just as smooth as the attendees so that they would continue to come back. They said he was very humble and also slightly shy but extremely excited about the convention and meeting his fans. 

 So this message is for all fan encounters (not just KJ): RESPECT THE CELEBRITIES AND THEIR LIMITS JUST LIKE YOU WOULD WANT OTHER PEOPLE TO FOR YOU.

*drops mic*

[anon-e-miss]

Guarded by Shadows 8

“A Praxian in Iacon, now isn’t that an unsual sight,” Mirage said, with a bemused tone. Through the tinted lens of his mask he could read the mech’s field like a cheap romance novel. The mech turned to face him, twirling a goblet of pink engex.

“I would think a Towers mech would be an even greater rarity,” his target replied. “I am Ambassador Crosscut.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Mirage,” the Towers mech replied, tangling an empty goblet from his long digits.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Crosscut said. “Quite unusual for a such noble frame like yourself to serve in the army.”

“I serve as aide-de-camp to to the Prime,” Mirage replied, haughtily. This was the truth, officially. It was not at all common knowledge that the noble aide-de-camp was actually a cover, had been his cover since he had arrived in Iacon. From the moment he had stepped ped in Iacon the Towers mech had been a spy within the Autobots and more specificially the High Council. He had never been intended to go into the field and spy on Decepticon targets, but Jazz always had his own plan, and resisting it was like resisting the tide. “I handle all his correspondence.”

Crosscut tried to look grave, but still came off as intrigued.  With a dismissively flick of his servo, Mirage tossed his empty goblet onto the tray of a passing server. He was familiar with that look. Even amongst Towers mechs, his lineage was notable, and there had always been sycophants looking to leech what they could from him. Where his originator encouraged such behaviour, and had encouraged Mirage to cultivate a following of adoring admirers, he never had. Loyalty was not something these types of mechanisms understood, the only close confident Mirage had ever allowed himself was Hound. For all his loyalty had been bred into him, the servus-frame really was loyal, really was a friend. Which is why the spy had given him his freedom once they had come to Iacon. It was only a matter of time before Hound actually take it and go, so far though, he had stubbornly refused.

“Could I buy you a drink, Lieutenant Colonel?” The ambassador asked. Mirage smiled.

“By all means, Ambassador,” he replied.

Everything was going exactly as he and Jazz had hoped. Mirage was well on the way to entrancing the mech. He watched as the Praxian gestured to the barmech for two cubes, and waited. When Crosscut glanced over at him, the Towers mech glanced off at the artwork on the walls. As soon as his quarry looked away again, Mirage was watching him again, watching as the barmech was distracted by another customer, watching as Crosscut opened a small vial. The spy’s plating prickled. This was an interesting development. A mechanism could have any number of motives to dose another mechanism, interface, murder, interrogation. Just what Crosscut was planning for him?

“Lieutenant Colonel!” An all too familiar gruff voice called, and the Towers mech turned. “I need to speak with you.”

“What about?” Mirage asked. If the sharp glossaed minibot was going to accuse him of being a traitor again, the spy thought he would scream, or drop the mech off the highest floor of the Translucentica Heights.

“It’s important!” Cliffjumper said, he cast a quick glance at Crosscut before looking back to Mirage. “Official business!”

“I apologize, Ambassador,” the spy excused him. He followed the red menace, wondering what he could possibly want. It could not possibly be important business, Jazz would have commed him. Cliffjumper was an excellent analyst, but he was also a paranoid, and volatile mechanism. The paranoia was part of what made him a good analyst, the volatile temper was what ensured he would never be an operative.

“Cliffjumper!” Mirage hissed, as soon as they were shut up in one of the private lounges just off from the many lobby. They were called lounges, and advertised as places to relax away from the crowd during intermissions. Except the single biggest purpose to attending the theatre was to be seen. No, the real purpose behind this lounges was to engage in discreet affairs with the richly painted courtesans that worked the room. He scowled down at the minibot through the gold optical lens of his mask, and could very literally see the vibrations of anger reverberating through the minibot’s frame. The spy seethed, no less angry, though his frame was not vibrating quite like his colleague’s. Primus give him patience, did not have time for this. “I am working!”

“No frag,” the little red menace snapped back. “That cogsucker’s trying to dose your energon. Why’s he trying to dose your energon? What the frag are you doing with that pumped up Praxian?”

“My job!” The spy replied, sharply. “I know how to not get poisoned, for the love of Primus.”

“Ya, when you got Hound watching your back,” Cliffjumper retorted. “Why’s no one watching your back?”

“I do not need back up for this,” Mirage replied. “This isn’t the Decepticons.”

“If he wants to drug your energon, he’s not up to anything good,” the minibot countered.

“Obviously,” the Towers mech said, exasperation rang in his voice. “If he was a friendly, I wouldn’t be casing him, now would I? I’m going back out there, and you are going to leave me to it before he starts questioning the company I keep!”

Mirage knew full well this would not be the end of the rash minibot’s interference. Technically, they were teammates, but even calling them acquaintances would have been a stretch. Whenever there was evidence of a mole in the Ops unit, inevitably the minibot pointed to the Towers mech. It had long since gotten old. Forcing his temper down, the spy returned to his target. No doubt the mech would have drugged the engex by now and Mirage was going to have to work around that little complication, thanks to Cliffjumper. At least Ambassador Crosscut was still waiting for him at the bar, the dark-cycle was not a wash. The spy strolled over to him, exuding superiority as a couple separated to let him pass. Though the lobby was filled with senator, actors and other rich mechanisms, few could claim Mirage’s connections. It was this, more than his electro disruptor, that gave the spy his value to the Autobots. He could walk amongst the elite of the city-state, and belong, something no other Autobot could do, certainly not the Prime. These mechanisms may have cowed to Nominus, but they snubbed their olfactory ridges at Optimus Prime, a trumped up dockworker.

“Nothing important I hope,” Crosscut said as Mirage arrived back at his side.

“Good help is simply impossible to find here,” the Towers mech replied with a derisive sniff. “Sadly my servus is nesting, and of no use at all for the foreseeable future. I really should go back to the Crystal City and select another. Servus-frames know their duty.”

“That is a refreshing concept,” the ambassador said.

Mirage did not grin like a Predacon, though the feeling was there. He knew full well that this slagtard had pretty strong opinions on duty, Prowl’s duty, not his of course. Crosscut was typical for his cast, absolutely entitled. The Towers mech was familiar with his lot, was technically one of them, more than he was an Autobot, but Mirage had made the choice to serve a higher cause than greed, and though he spoke of returning the Crystal City to Crosscut, the spy had no real intention of going back, not so long as he could actually be of use here in Iacon. With a smooth smile, Crosscut turned back to the bar, to the engex he must have dose. When he straightened sharply, Mirage cocked his helm to look. The goblet had disappeared.

“Oh dear,” Mirage said. “Sometimes I think they just let anyone in here. Really... Some of the flashiest mechanisms are the most cheap.”

“Bartender... my friend’s drink?” Crosscut said, with an irritated expression. The mech serving at the bar shrugged his shoulders. Eventually, he acquiesced and prepared another drink, to save himself from the Praxian’s machinations, Mirage took it himself.

“Thank you, Ambassador,” the Towers mech hummed as he took a sip. Before he could entice the Praxian further, the bell chimed signalling the end to the intermission. He gave Crosscut a disappointed look. “Well that will be all then. Unless you wish to escort me back to my box.”

“It would be an honour, Lieutenant Colonel,” the Praxian said. It was hardly a long way off, but it gave Mirage just enough time to provoke his target’s curiosity, and now for the final move of the dark-cycle.

“This would be my box,” Mirage declared as he stopped. His unwitting companion looked at the door, and then to him.

“I was under the impression this was Emirate Xeon’s box,” Crosscut said.

“Why of course,” the spy said as he signaled the door to open. He stepped forward, and looked over his shoulder at the Ambassador. “Emirate Xeon is my originator.”

The door closed behind Mirage, and he climbed the steps up to his seat. It was a clever move for Jazz to arrange that Crosscut be issue the box next to the Emirate’s. Xeon was off cavorting amongst his friends in the Crystal City, so his box was free for his sole creation to use. Of course, his orginator would have welcomed him into the box had he been in town, except then Xeon would also have expected Mirage to stroll the lounge with him, showing off his unattached creation to his circle, which would not have suited the spy’s purpose at all. It was a given that the Emirate had no idea what Mirage actually did for the Autobots, it was Xeon’s dubious dealings in Kaon that had seen his creation become a spy for the Prime, amongst his regular targets was his very originator. Maybe it should have made him sick with guilt, but it did not. Mirage loathed the Emirate, and everything he stood for, and had since he had had the processor to think for himself. If he ever uncovered something that would see his originator jailed, the Towers mech would not feel even the tiniest flicker of guilt.

When the curtains fell on the play, Mirage stepped into the shadows and disappeared. He slipped down the steps and out of his box before Crosscut could reappear. As the spy had hoped, his quarry briefly looked about for him, before departing the theatre, disappointment evident in his field. As he set off, he did with an invisible tail. Mirage followed the ambassador though the core of Iacon. Had Crosscut headed away from the city centre, towards the tactician’s district, the spy would have followed, while alerting Jazz to the development. This is not what happened, however. Instead, Crosscut stopped in front of Hotel at the Heights. Remaining invisible thanks to his electro disruptor, Mirage followed the Praxian into the hotel, and all the way to his rented habsuite. It was not the most expensive suite, though it was nowhere close to the cheapest available in this hotel for the absurdly rich. Knowing the cost per dark-cycle, the Towers mech guessed Crosscut likely had credits enough to bribe a secretary, a Primal Vanguard, and any number of others in order to get to the mech he wanted. With this wealth, surely the Praxian should have been able to find another bondmate. Unless he had been unable to find another with the same hyper-fertility Prowl suffered. In which case, his sole motivation for hunting down his runaway Conjunx Endura would be to spark the mech to his death. What a revoting concept.

Just breams after Crosscut walked into his habsuite, a courtesan arrived at his door, and was quietly allowed entry. Comfortably certain the Ambassador would not be leaving for the rest of the dark-cycle, Mirage stepped away from the wall, and made his way to the elevator. A problem with invisibility is that you attracted considerable attention if you triggered doors while invisible. Mirage had little choice but to wait until a guest got off at this floor before he made his escape. As was customary, he did not race for his own habsuite but for the dimly lit bar he and Jazz co-owned. On the deed, it was the Polihexian’s alone, but it had been Mirage’s credits that had largely covered the venue’s cost, keeping his designation off the paperwork was a matter of practicality. Mechanisms would ask questions as to why a mech like Mirage was slumming with a mech like Jazz, and questions could be deadly. As the spy had suspected, when he slipped into the bar, he saw Jazz was waiting for him. It was not until he got to their booth that he saw that the saboteur was not alone, but in fact a certain minibot was their as well, and on the table, was a familiar goblet.

“Can ya grab a round of energon, CJ?” Jazz asked. Cliffjumper nodded and hopped from the booth, he glanced up over his shoulder. Mirage knew that it was he the minibot was looking for. With the bench clear, Mirage slipped into the booth, and safely in the shadows, flickered into view.

“Did you convince Prowl to relocated?” Mirage asked.

“Yes, thank Prims,” the Polihexian replied. “Once he saw the space, he couldn’t say no. The mechlings need it, deserve it, he knew it. Ya had issues with Crosscut.”

“I would not say there was an issue,” the spy said, and Jazz cocked his helm at the cube. Free of the mask, Mirage dimmed his blue optics. “I knew damn well he was dosing that goblet.”

“Of course ya did,” Jazz replied. “But why’s my question. This got a bit hotter than just trackin’ ‘n distractin’m from Prowl.”

“He commented on my brand immediately,” Mirage revealed. “He may see me as a potential pawn to dig up the information he wants. He may have criminal interfacial habits Prowl was not aware of. It’s pretty clear Prowl was for procreating, not pleasure. In any case, he’s not a monk. A courtesan arrived at his habsuite in the Hotel at the Heights shortly after he arrived.”

“Guess that sounds familiar to ya,” the saboteur said.

“Yes,” the noble mech replied. “That’s largely how it’s done in may if not all the highest levels of the Towers. Creating is a duty between Conjunx Endurae. Common pleasures are left to the servus-frames.”

“Hold up, I thought they were just... servants,” Jazz said. “Bad enough, but their interface slaves too?”

“Remember Jazz, the Crystal City is Functionalist to its core,” Mirage replied. “The heres-frame emerged to rule, the servus-frames emerged to serve their masters. There’s been really minimal push against it. Servus-frames are indoctrinated from emergence.”

“So you and Hound...” the Polihexian said, visible disturbed.

“We are not, and never were,” the spy replied, his faceplates contorted into a grimace. He felt filthy just at the suggestion. “But as a rule? I know my procreators enjoyed training their servus-frames to serve their exact tastes. A servus-frame with a good pedigree was considered vital to a Towers’ mech’s image.”

“This is a rough assignment on ya,” Jazz murmured. “Ya coulda mentioned it ‘Raj. We can figure somethin’ else out.”

“I’m fine, Jazz,” Mirage said. “I’ll enjoy thwarting Crosscut. So leave it, please.”

“Energon,” Cliffjumper declared as he stepped up to the booth. He pushed a cube to Mirage, then to Jazz, and placed his own on the table before he climbed onto the bench. The spy felt completely foolish. There was no way to know how much the analyst had overheard, and how much of it he could find cause to use in his next witch hunt.

“I’ve brought CJ in on the mission,” the saboteur explained as the minibot settled. Mirage would not have felt at all put out tucked in the corner, had it been Hound sitting in Cliffjumper’s space, but he did feel put out. Jazz tapped the sealed cube on the table. “’M gonna get this to Perceptor, see just what he was lookin’ to dose ya wit. Then we can work on our game plan. Do ya think ya sunk’m?”

“I think he’s intrigued,” the Towers mech replied. “His obsessed with status, his and those around him. I recognized the sent of his wax, the paint number he uses is copyrighted, only one detailer on Cybertron is licensed to use it. And this engex? See the flecks? Anyone where knowing to Crosscut will know what that costs. He didn’t ask me what I wanted, he ordered it, very clearly to impress me.”

“It woulda impressed most o’ the mechansism at the show,” Jazz said.

“It likely did,” Mirage replied. “They’ll be talking about the newcomer. Someone will invite him to the next event, which happens to be the Derby. I already have my invitation.”

“Think he’ll come?” The Polihexian asked.

“Oh yes,” the spy said. “For the same reason he went to that awful play, to be seen. I suspect he’s looking to make connections in Iacon.”

“Sidin’ up wit ya would give ‘m good connections,” Jazz nodded. “Least that’s what he’ll think. Give’m an in to the Towers, if he don’t already.”

“So far as I can tell, does business strictly within Praxus,” Mirage replied. “He trades in rare minerals and crystals. The denizens of the Translucentica Heights are gobbling them up at a high rate, via other markets. I’m sure credits are flashing in his helm.”

“Sounds like we got a hook in ‘m, perfect,” the saboteur said. “I decided CJ’s gonna be yer shadow.”

“You cannot be serious,” the Towers mech said. “To start, I do not need a shadow. To continue, he is incapable of subtlety. I will get thrown out the second he opens his his mouth.”

“I didn’t get thrown outta the theatre!” Cliffjumper countered, sharply.

“Just what were you doing there anyways?” Mirage asked.

“I help with the acoustics,” the minibot said. “It was a fraggin’ awful show. Lead was tone deaf, but he’s fragging the director so... he’ll be leading for a while.”

“Fabulous,” the spy replied. “Do you think you could keep silent, your betters sneer down at you?”

“They are not my betters!” Cliffjumper snarled. He knelt up on the bench and bristled at the noble mech.

“But they believe you are,” Mirage countered. “And that is what matters.”

“I can keep my mouth shut,” the hot-helmed analyst replied, as he sat back down.

“The Derby starts tomorrow,” Jazz interjected. “At least for tomorrow, CJ’s your shadow, ‘Raj. Once I get results from Perceptor we can address it. This mech may not be a ‘Con but he ain’t a shady councilmech either. We don’t know what he’s capable of, not really. We ain’t gonna take a chance.”

[opheliagardinier]

cheep shots

I was able to finish this a bit earlier than I was aiming for so I figured I may as well post it.

Thank you so much to Anya @ladyvivienneloyola for this extra af RP and thank you Bri @benjaminschreave for the Ben RP.

word count: 2648

The cake was delicious just like Ben said it would be, which had made me glad I’d had some- or a lot. Viv and I had continued to talk for a bit after we came inside, and we continued on like that until we were gathered around.

Flutes of champagne were passed around as the king prepared to toast. I took two glasses from a passing waiter and held one out to Viv.

“More alcohol.” I smiled, as Viv took the glass. “Excellent.”

She pressed the flute against her glass, glancing over at me in amusement. Since my whole no drinking thing had gone to shit I figured I may as well enjoy it. And if this was anywhere near as good as some of the wines and champagnes I’d seen in the cellar then I was going to be a very happy woman.

“You know, I'm starting to like balls even more now.”

I let out a snort at her comment, trying not to choke as I took a sip of champagne. I didn’t think she’d realised what she said. Oh, sweet Vivienne. Of course, I had taken it that way.

“You and me both, Viv.” I bit back a laugh as I held my glass up against the light to inspect the champagne. “Hm, interesting choice.”

The champagne was a bit too sweet for my liking. It also didn’t seem to have been chilled long enough. But taste and temperature aside I sure as hell was going to drink it, especially knowing that my glass alone likely cost more than the dress I was wearing.

Beside me, Viv followed suit and took a sip. Judging by the slight change in her expression she also wasn’t a fan.

“Why?” She asked, eyeing her own glass, before drinking some more. “Tastes like the regular shit rich people drink at these kinds of stuff.”

“Honestly, I would have expected something a bit better.” I leaned in to whisper with a shrug.

I didn’t want to say it too loud in case the wrong person was in earshot. I’d stepped on enough toes that night, so I was going to be a bit less vocal with any grievances I had.

“Right.” She agreed, taking another drink. “Say, would you think this drink has a pretty high alcohol concentration?”

I shook my head. As alcohol went champagne was pretty mild, though given the carbonation it tended to hit you a bit faster. That coupled with the fact that it usually tasted similar to juice was what made it notorious.

“No, maybe 12%.” I glanced over at her and saw she didn’t look all there. “Hey, are you okay?”

Before she could answer she keeled over beside me as the sounds of screams and sharp pops filled the ballroom. She reached up and put a hand on my shoulder. I looked around in confusion but quickly realised what was going on. Around us, shots were being fired, with guests falling to the floor.

The sour smell of gunpowder hit me, followed by my the familiar scent of iron. Blood.

As I turned back I spotted the same waiter from before who I’d gotten the champagne from. But instead of a tray and glasses, he now held a handgun. After a split second of consideration, I hurled my unfinished glass of champagne towards him. Viv looked up at me as the delicate flute crashed into him sending bubbly and glass shards into his face. There was loud pop as his gun discharged. My ears began to ring, and my heart beat fast as I turned to Viv to see if she was alright. Thankfully there wasn’t a mark on her.

“What did you do that for?” She yelled at me breathlessly, giving me a look of disbelief. “Ah!”

I went to lean in closer to Viv but stopped as I became aware of the searing pain in my arm. I wanted to tell her I hadn’t known what else to do. but found I couldn’t. All I could muster was a cough and a wheezing noise as I gasped for air.

My ears continued to ring as the echoes from the shots around me made my head begin to throb. Viv’s hand tightened on my shoulder as she tried to steady herself. To my surprise, she regained her composure and reached for my other shoulder, where the pain was coming from.

Oh shit.

“Don't freak out but we need to get out of here and get you some-” Viv fell to her knees beside me, taking a few laboured breaths. “Go... find... help.”

I continued gasping for air as the pain spread out from my shoulder, and caused the rest of my body to go numb. I did my best to kneel beside Viv but fell forward. As my arms instinctually went out to catch me I let out a cry as the pain worsened and my vision began to blur.

All because I didn’t like the fucking champagne.

Viv gasped for air, clutching her chest with her unsoiled hand. She gave me one final look before she fell against the ground, unconscious. I did my best to move towards her. I felt the warmth of her skin beneath my palms as I gripped her shoulders through my pain.

“Viv?” I choked.

Black spots started to appear in my vision, while the sounds of screaming and gunshots began to dull. I almost felt warm… and sleepy…

I should sleep.

I let go of Viv and leaned forward against the floor.

What a nice pillow...

After the events of the previous night, I was exhausted. Since waking up from surgery I’d been in and out of consciousness- they’d said the pain medication could do that.

“Lucky” they’d said. Very lucky. It turns out that the quick medical attention I’d received had saved my life. A few minutes more and the blood loss would have killed me- if the oxygen deprivation hadn’t finished the job first.

I was laying in bed, just watching as doctors and nurses went by my room, really unable to do much more. Though that wasn’t my only reason. No one was giving me too many details on the conditions of anyone else and my best hope was catching things in passing.

At some point, I took my eyes away from the door to turn my head to drink. Unable to do much given my injuries the nurses had set up a water bottle with a straw so I could drink when I wanted to- which as it turned out was often given the meds. As I drank a loud noise echoed out of the bottle, warning me that I was nearly out of water.

There were a couple knocks at my door, which caused me to turn my head. I winced as a twinge of pain shot through my shoulder. Slowly. Ben stood in the doorway, holding a vase full of lilies seeming much less put together than his normal self. He had multiple bruises on his face, which I stared at for a moment, before swallowing.

“Everyone decent?” He seemed to force a smile.

“Depends on your definition of decent,” I told him in a hushed tone, as he stepped into my room, shutting the door behind him.

I wasn’t yet able to speak normally, and when I did speak I got tired pretty easily. With one lung out of commision and the other working overtime, it wasn’t a cake walk. Silence was my new best friend- at least for the next couple weeks.

“This might be a stupid question, but how are you feeling?” He asked, walking over.

“Like I’ve been better.” I breathed, leaning back into my pillows, as I eyed his injuries.

He set the vase down beside my water bottle and went to pull up a chair.

“I know, and I know all your injuries, so don’t worry about talking.” His brows furrowed while he looked me over as he sat down. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing”

“Me? Not talking? Good luck with that.” I gave him a weak smile.

I reached out to run my fingertips along his cheek that didn’t have any bruises. I’d had my surgery, was on my painkillers, and had a team of doctors making sure I didn’t develop a post-op infection. I would live. But Ben truly seemed rattled.

“I should be the one asking you how you are,” I said in a voice so soft I wasn’t sure he’d hear.

“Nothing a couple ice packs won’t fix.” He flashed me a crooked smile as he took my hand with his.

I gave him a sceptical look but decided to let it go for now. If he didn’t want to talk about it then now wasn’t the time to ask. That was the last thing he needed.

“And your family… Viv…?”

The last I remembered of Viv was her lifeless body on the floor as I was running out of breath. She’d tried so hard to help me but whatever had been in her drink had stopped her and she had collapsed beside me. Poison. I’d heard the nurses whispering it while they thought I was too far asleep to hear. Dead.

“Family’s okay. I’ve... yet to check on Viv, but from what I heard she’s still sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” I tried to hold back as I felt the urge to cry. “You’re sure?”

I looked away from him and focused on the wall, desperately trying to collect myself. I didn’t want to cry- couldn’t. I needed to keep myself together, if not for myself then for Ben at least. The palace was his home, and home was supposed to be the safest place.

Both his hands wrapped around mine and squeezed.

“Positive.” He told me. “I’ve asked about every single one of you.”

I tried to take a deep breath in order to calm down but only felt pain as I wheezed. Don’t let him see you like this.

“I saw her die. She was on the ground next to me.” I sniffled, turning back to him.

“She didn’t die.” He shook his head, as he spoke to me in a gentle tone. “Viv and other people were poisoned through their drinks, but they were given an antidote in time. She only passed out, never died, alright?”

I leaned forward a bit, trying to keep it all in. Don’t panic. It’s no big deal. You were only shot and a shit ton of people poisoned.

“What the hell happened?” I asked him, with my eyes widening as I pleaded with him. “I’ve heard the doctors and nurses saying people died. And no one will tell me who or why.”

I began to take in shallow breaths as the panic set in. I needed answers. I was sick of sitting in this bed and being treated like a child. I’d been in that room, my friends had been in that room.

“A few guests were the ones who died, no Selected.” Ben pressed his lips together, swallowing before he continued. “As for why we’re still figuring that out. Investigations are ongoing but we’re doing our best.”

“How many?” I whispered, squeezing his hand.

“Fifteen.” Ben sighed, looking away for a moment. “Fifteen people. At my birthday party.”

I took my hand out of his and put it on his cheek. He had nothing to be guilty for. Ben had lived, but he had nothing to be sorry for. He couldn’t have known what would happen.

“And that isn’t your fault.” I shook my head. “So you can’t blame yourself, no matter how much you want to. And it might be selfish of me but I’m happy you didn’t make sixteen.”

He leaned into my hand for a moment. I wished I could take away all of his pain. Ben didn’t deserve what he must have been going through.

“But I am sorry I couldn't protect you, all of you. Prevent all of this.” He gestured to my shoulder.

“Lungs heal, and arteries stop bleeding,” I said, trying to give him a smile. “The worst part of this for me is that I ruined that gorgeous dress and I can’t have alcohol for the foreseeable future. Okay?”

I felt a pang of guilt as I listened to myself lie to him. The scent of gunpowder and blood would haunt me for a long time. And the screaming… I hadn’t really escaped the sound yet. The only time it stopped was when my medication put me to sleep.

“Not okay, but... I appreciate the sentiment.” He did his best to return the smile.

“But you will be, we’ll all be. If not now then eventually.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb. “Even if you don’t feel like it’ll ever happen.”

That part was true. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel yet, but at some point, there would be. I didn’t think any of us could ever forget, we could only let the memories fade.

“I hope so, at least.” He rested his elbow on the bed as he used his fist to prop up his fist.

“I know so.” I grimaced as I tilted my head towards him.

“You should try not to move so much, it's obviously not pleasant,” Ben told me, having noticed my reaction.

I shrugged, which only made it worse. Fuck. People always tell you getting shot hurts, but that doesn’t prepare you for the pain. I’d been kicked by a horse before and compared to this that had been nothing.

“I’m fine.” I lied.

I gritted my teeth as I breathed through the pain. It had to almost be time for my meds again. It just had to be. I’d never been a fan of taking medication but painkillers had become my new hero overnight.

“Ophelia.” He said, slightly admonishing me. “Take care of yourself. Can I call for some medication? Or something to help you sleep?”

“The nurse will come when it’s time for more. And I’ve been sleeping enough.” I tried to sit up higher.

Sleep may have been the only time I didn’t think about what had happened, and I appreciated that, but I hated falling asleep. Every time the medication kicked in it felt like passing out in the ballroom all over again.

Ben put his hand on my uninjured shoulder and gently pushed me back against the bed. I looked up at him with a scowl. I was so over this already.

“Please rest? For me?”

“I hate this.” I sighed.

“Like you said, it'll get better.” He smiled a little, as he leaned forward to press a kiss against my brow. “Faster you rest faster you'll get better.”

“I can’t hear you.” I groaned, closing my eyes, causing him to chuckle.

“I’ll say it again if you need me to.” He leaned back. “But for now I’ll let you rest.”

I sighed and opened my eyes. I didn’t want him to go, but he was probably right. If I wanted to recover quickly I was just going to have to suck it up.

“Will you get me some water?” I asked, eyeing my empty bottle.

“Of course.” He stood up to leave. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Ben had returned with my water bottle, I must have fallen asleep. It must have been a relief to him. But it wasn’t to me, because the shooting pain in my shoulder made me realise I had missed a dose of medication.

He had done what he’d said and brought me the water I asked for- even leaving a note under one of the bottles.

for your healing hydration needs. please rest.

see you soon, jam.

I fumbled around for my call button. When I found it I pressed it and was left to wait.

[iristial]

SS/Kamen Rider Ramble #79: Keiichiro Has Unlocked My Heart and You Can’t Stop It Toei - KSL VS KSP Episode 17

I forgot to write last week’s episode...idk the only Touma episode I enjoyed was his first one. The second one was...bland (for a lack of a better word) and the third one was interesting but I hated hearing the monster’s voice out of Touma’s body (so whiny...but Touma was hilarious as a Gangler)

He’s too qualified for love...is what I wrote weeks ago when I thought canon-wise, Keiichiro is a police officer married to his job. He technically is but...gah, I did not expect this at all. I’m sorry Toei, please forgive my assumptions, I didn’t realize spring was for weirdos like Keiichiro XD

Kamen Rider Build steps up the stakes with each episode so Lupinranger VS Patoranger is medicine for the heart and soul.

Toei has recognized that the Patorangers need more spotlight and accordingly gave us one...this time in the form of Mana, a sweet and beautiful heiress(?) with skewed priorities like who goes back to get a record when a Gangler could y’know kill you who’s obviously in love with Keiichiro, who remains a perfect brick (I actually smacked my forehead twice and had to bear with the pain for a minute)...until you realize he’s kind of attracted to her but “I can’t pursue two things at the same time” and he settles for regaining his senses in the dream world by thinking of pretty flashbacks of Mana and looking at the airplane she’s leaving on with such longing I can’t. I guess it’s fitting for him (as punctuated by the “Gangler!” scream he gives) but...AGH! She’s a satellite character and this episode was filler more than anything, I know, but he was so precious to her, are you really older than Kairi, how are you so precious?!

Mana has excellent taste in potential boyfriends

My affections have changed - well I still like Kairi but Keiichiro - if she’s not getting him can I date him? I wouldn’t mind having a dude saluting to me as I prepare to go to Austria...

Mana is so pretty, Toei is going all out with visuals for the girls this season (not counting that French woman because she’s more of the charming type...like Super Junior Eunhyuk. Like on the surface they don’t seem attractive by traditional beauty standards but once you get to know them they have a charm to them. I’m going off tangent again...)

At least I can write shipping fics for Keiichiro now because up until this point I couldn’t even imagine it

Long de Long de - okay, I forgot the name...I found it funny that Kairi had to ask what it meant BUT since I speak English...

A call-back to Sakuya’s affections - gets a phone call “Speaking of the dream world!” He’s letting go of his playboy ways wait that’s right he was a playboy - it DOESN’T SUIT HIM STILL

Umika is pretty, kind, feminine, the only girl of the Lupinrangers, wears the colour yellow, isn’t scared of haunted houses, will use Sakuya if it suits her (hopefully she doesn’t do it too often), thinks of her own plots with success and isn’t fooled by the dream world. Now I’m really curious as to why she’s walking backwards in the OP because I love this Sentai heroine

This week’s Gangler is the kind who puts you into dreams. I was expecting Umika to see Shiho tbh and that Mana would be put in the dream world...instead Tsukasa has a bed of stuffed animals, Sakuya has a photo album of his memories of Umika (thank goodness I thought he was going to have a harem), and Keiichiro is dressed as the police officer from his childhood so cute. I thought he’d burst out of the dream because he’s bored from not having crime to fight (that would be an interesting twist) but it’s Umika’s "la la la” that helps. Ah, as expected - being an excellent one note/word singer means you have great vocals. Perhaps they’re alluding to how Umika’s actress was in an idol group?

Keiichiro‘s relief that they found the Gangler before there were any victims UGH sign me UP for the Keiichiro Fan Club

For the first time in forever we have Keiichiro and Umika interacting...and gosh the pureness yet down-to-earth vibes they give. Umika’s still a high school senior but she’s so done with Keiichiro (feat. Tsukasa and Sakuya on the side), whether it’s being oblivious or just single-minded. Even as a Lupinranger she’s all “this is your fault” and Keiichiro just wonders if she’s insane. Their scene at night time it was taken straight out of a K-Drama, I swear, his looks are smouldering, I have expected the ground to light up flames and for Sakuya to get a jealous moment...shoot, I’m shipping this HELP ME

ZAMIGO IS BACK IN THE LAST MINUTE yikes his lips look severely dehydrated, I feel sorry for the actor because they need to pull out an entire bag of ice cubes and he has to eat them several times in case some shots don’t work out

Zamigo really is a Shinkenger Juuzo I can’t see him wanting to take over the Gangler

Maybe Good Striker will be the Sixth Ranger - just kidding, I know he won’t, but now they’re fighting over him -

[zrtranscripts]

Season 7, Mission 7: Good Morning Judge Light a fire below

[courtroom chatters]

JUDGE: Order! [bangs gavel] Order in the court! Ladies and gentlemen, we have heard both sides of the case. Horace Bailey stands accused of committing war crimes against the town of Little Rook under the regime of Sigrid Hakkinen. 

As a member of the Exmoor Militia, I'd like to thank the citizens of Little Rook for inviting me to serve on this trial's judicial panel. We are always happy to provide counsel to our allies. The judges will now retire to consider our verdict. Thank you. 

[courtroom chatters]

TOM DE LUCA: Watch your elbows, Kefilwe! This courtroom is more crowded than a London commute! Still, it's a nice change from fighting Riders and V-types, eh? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: This trial is just as important. The country must heal the wounds of Sigrid's rule, Tom. We must not descend to mob mentality and rough justice. If anything, this is more vital than any single victory. That is why Janine gave us leave to testify. Even with all we've done, even after you rescued all those patients from the recuperation center, Five, Abel must still prove we are not the enemy. 

TOM DE LUCA: Yes. The fact this trial hasn't descended into chaos is a victory. Bailey really doesn't look like much, does he? Disguising his face behind those wire frame glasses. And that unconvincing comb-over. 

[glass shatters] 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Five, look out! That woman threw a jar of - it looks like acid - at Bailey. She barely missed. 

HORACE BAILEY: Clerks of the court, do something! That woman nearly killed me!

KEFILWE LOBATSE: This crowd isn't going to wait peacefully for a verdict. A group of men over there are carrying rope. If we don't get Bailey out of here, there will be a lynching. 

TOM DE LUCA: Five, grab Bailey. I'm under orders from Jane. He must be tried, not murdered. 

HORACE BAILEY: What? Get off me! Clerks, these people are assailing me! 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Mr. Bailey, we were appointed by the court to keep you safe. The lynchers are coming right for us. Five, bolt for the fire exit, and keep hold of Bailey. Run!

HORACE BAILEY: Unhand me! This is madness. I keep telling everyone I'm an innocent man! 

TOM DE LUCA: Good job leading us into these redwoods, Five. They're excellent cover. Lucky for us, they built Little Rook in the middle of a nature park. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: That mob is spilling out of the courthouse. We must find somewhere to hide until things die down. 

HORACE BAILEY: Hide? You have to get me out of here! Even if the locals don't kill me, that court is going to give me the death penalty! Hold on, I recognize you. You're that doctor from Abel. You gave a statement for the prosecution about how awful the Ministry was. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Yes. I saw enough men like you behind Sigrid's wall, but Abel will always defend the rule of law. If you are to be put to death, it will be by a court, not a mob. 

HORACE BAILEY: I was just a clerk in Sigrid's office. I don't deserve to be treated like this. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: You signed orders to Ministry troops to tear down the protective fence around Little Rook just because Sigrid caught the town trading with the Exmoor Militia. Over a hundred people died here when the zombies came in. 

HORACE BAILEY: Countersigned. I countersigned those orders. They were from Sigrid! It was just my job to clear the paperwork! I'm a pacifist, for heaven's sake. I was trying not to make a fuss. 

MOB: There! 

TOM DE LUCA: Uh-oh, that mob just spotted us. Five, look up. See those wooden canopy walkways between the treetops? It's a good tactical position, if we can get up there. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: There are wooden stairs between those two oaks. Come on. 

TOM DE LUCA: Not ideal, these wooden bridges. Class 4 rickety, as we used to say in the service. At least nobody's following us.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Yes. We're safe here now. It was a good plan, Tom. 

HORACE BAILEY: Tom? I recognize you, too, Mr. De Luca. I don't know why you're with her after you defended me - [zombie growls] Good God! What's that? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: That is a zombie. No doubt some climbed up here after you had the town's fencing destroyed. No wonder we were not followed. 

TOM DE LUCA: You've never seen a zombie?

HORACE BAILEY: No. I mean, not up close. I worked in an office. The soldiers kept them away. I never realized... the skin on its hands... ugh, it's horrible! 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: It is also not alone, but I didn't bring any cure with me into this tree. If we're bitten, that mob won't allow us to find treatment. We must lose those zombies now. Rope bridge to our left, now! 

TOM DE LUCA: I think we've lost those zombies. Better slow down. Bailey's lagging behind. Man's wheezing like hell! I almost feel sorry for him.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Yes, we all heard your statement in his defense.

TOM DE LUCA: Look, like it or not, both sides in that court knew words from Abel would carry weight with an Exmoor judge. The defense asked for my honest opinion as a government operative, and I gave it.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: That man is no better than Ian.

TOM DE LUCA: His advocate made a fair point, though. When you're in a chain of command, you follow orders, and Sigrid was the highest legal authority in the country. And if he disobeyed, she would have just shot and replaced him.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Still, there are certain things one should not do even on pain of death. Do you know I have been caring for the babies Sigrid used to make her filthy serum?

TOM DE LUCA: I... thought they'd mostly been rehoused. Didn't Amelia at Fort Canton take seven? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Nine, and yes, mostly they have been rehoused. Except for a few, who have had an adverse reaction to the treatments. Immunity did not mean the same thing in all those children. A few have experienced permanent brain damage. 

TOM DE LUCA: That's terrible. I had no idea. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: What is the point of broadcasting this grief? There were only a very few affected. I held a little boy in my arms three weeks ago. Stroked his head with the palm of my hand until he passed in peace. 

But of course, the people who injected them with zombie bite were just following orders. Tell me, Tom, how many deaths were you responsible for when you worked for the government? 

TOM DE LUCA: I-I mean, it's hard to say. Covert ops is a muddy business. One has to complete mission objectives. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: No, one doesn't. I have seen you haunted by your own pain, Tom, but never that which you inflicted on others. And you were in perfect mental health in those days. Never pretend such action can be excused as following orders. 

[explosion]

TOM DE LUCA: What! What was that? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: The mob! Someone has brought a catapult. They're launching burning tar at us. 

[footsteps]

HORACE BAILEY: What's going on?

TOM DE LUCA: Serious trouble. Operational decay. 

KEFILWE LOBASTE: We must get down from here before this bridge burns. There's a wooden platform over there. I see a ladder leading to it from the ground. Five, help Bailey, please. Now run! 

[fire crackles]

TOM DE LUCA: Slow down, Five. No chance of getting to the ladder, not with that wall of flame in the way. 

HORACE BAILEY: What do we do? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: The trees. 

TOM DE LUCA: Good thinking. If we jump into a tree, the branches will break our fall. We can shimmy down to the ground. 

HORACE BAILEY: What? No! We'll never make it! That wall of flame isn't so high. I'm going for the ladder.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: You will not go anywhere without us. You're still on trial. 

HORACE BAILEY: Why? Why am I the one on trial? The world ended a long time ago, and we've all done awful things to survive. You people think it was like a movie, as if I could just stand up and do the right thing. 

Sigrid tortured people who disobeyed her. I saw her pluck a man's eye out because he brought her the wrong kind of coffee! She made doctors do torture for her! 

TOM DE LUCA: Doctors? 

HORACE BAILEY: I was afraid and alone, and I just wanted to keep my head down. How is killing me for that justice? How does it make anything better? 

TOM DE LUCA: We have to move.

HORACE BAILEY: I don't want to die.

KEFILWE LOBATSE: Then you'll need a run-up to make the jump. Five first, and then you. Go. 

[branches snap, HORACE BAILEY screams]

TOM DE LUCA: Phew, that was a rough landing. Everyone all right? 

HORACE BAILEY: Look, the bridges above us. They're going to collapse. 

TOM DE LUCA: Over there! We can use those boulders for cover. Run!

[bridge collapses] 

TOM DE LUCA: That was a close shave. Half those wooden bridges came down. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: No sign of the lynch mob. The flames were a stupid idea. The townspeople are all busy fighting the fire, now. 

HORACE BAILEY: You saved my life. What happens next? 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: We need to take you back. These people are not wrong to hold you accountable for your actions. You will pay the price, as do we all. I... tortured a man I cared for because there was no other way. 

HORACE BAILEY: For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For everything that happened because people like me didn't speak out against her. I wish I could do it again. I would do better. I'd be braver. I think.

TOM DE LUCA: It looks like they’ve put out the fires around the courthouse. We'd better get back there before anyone else decides to stage a lynching. Come on!

[courtroom chatters]

JUDGE: [bangs gavel] Now that the defendant has been returned, we can begin. A verdict has been reached. Please sit down. 

No matter how strong the temptation for vengeance, a society on the edge of apocalypse cannot simply throw lives away. If we do so, we are no better than the death cults who threaten all of us. It is, therefore, the verdict of this court that the defendant, though guilty, be spared the death penalty. 

Order! Order! Instead, Horace Bailey will be kept in protective custody at Little Rook, where he will spend the rest of his days maintaining the new fence around the town. In this way, he will redress some of the damage caused by his actions. [bangs gavel] This court is adjourned. 

TOM DE LUCA: Bailey looks shell-shocked. I think he would have had an easier time with the death penalty. People here hate him. It's going to be a long, hard road for him to prove he's worth a damn. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: We all have to prove that again and again. I was too harsh, Tom. I know you have suffered for your past. 

TOM DE LUCA: No, you were right. I've done plenty of things I'm not proud of. For Janine, or Queen, or country. I've always been good at following orders. Maybe I should think more about the kind of person that makes me. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: You helped save a life today. That is a good sign. 

TOM DE LUCA: Not exactly an innocent life. 

KEFILWE LOBATSE: No, but those ones are easy to care for. Come on, Five. Let's head back to Abel.

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 2X12 Night Shifter

aiht let’s see if that bread pudding is any good

....they’re...holding people hostage?

ah it’s tangle with the law time I see

and shapeshifter time? I wasn’t paying that much attention

oooo conspiracy theorist! And in a turn of events, he’s actually helpful 

I mean he’s vaguely xenophobic(vs. chinese and russians), but helpful?

There’s commentary to be had about paranoia, monsters and xenophobia but it will Never Be Explored I’ll bet

the glow eyes kinda look like grace

Sam goes kinda fed-y, and Dean dislikes

“stay in the dark and stay alive” but Dean dislikes, does this say something? I mean probably, but let’s not examine it wheeee

how much does Dean know to bs about technology? cuz he seems quite knowledgable

holy hell this tastes....exactly like the Disney bread pudding. Same level of just...cholesterol and weird flavors

HELL YEAH

Ok fine more Dean playboy behavior 

Ah and he spots it

Ronald what the fuck

and he’s all yelling and panicked yike

Dean appeals to him? Charisma 100

and manages to get the gun pointed at HIM THE SELF SACRIFICIAL BASTARD

whatever the moral is gonna be I don’t think I’m gonna like it oh boy 

Sam getting so annoyed at Dean getting praised for self sacrifice is FUNNY

ope the cops are here

The guy’s like “I’m not crazy” i mean yes but you also endangered a lot of people

Dean getting pissy at the cops 

SAM IS GETTING SO PISSED IT’S SO FUNNY

Ah so it goes after Dean again

why is Sam so pissy today

Dean is desperately trying to mediate and get his job done ha

Do i like the apologetic thing? nah, but I appreciate the “working with what we’ve got” angle

OOO COOL SHOT WITH THE POLICE CAR LIGHTING AND THE WINDOW

ah and heart attack and the whole “who can we trust thing”

listen, shapeshifter storylines like that? inherently interesting, I’ll give it that

OOO AND FOUND THE DEAD BODY! 

OH FUCK SNIPER

also they had really good shaky cam earlier this episode I appreciated that

and the music cut and slow-mo also really really worked in this scene, I appreciated that

ah and the clear threat assessment when he looks at the cops

Yep ur screwed

His fucking...ringer is...rock music...Dean you fucking cliche

HENDRICKSON? WAIT I’VE HEARD OF THIS GUY

OHO I’M EXCITED INTRO TO PLOT THAT ISN’T CHRISTIANITY

AND THEY GO FOR D E A N OF COURSE

that little interaction between Dean and Sheri was interesting. 

ah his personalized FBI agent

Ah still hero-worshipping his dad

I do like the cheekiness on both sides I’m excited

Oop and Sam spots the blood to find the next victim

is it Sheri? it looks like Sheri

AH THE CORPSE! THEY(it?) ADAPTED THE STRATEGY

FEDS IN THE BUILDING!! AND THE AVOIDANCE BEGINS

OH THE SMACK FROM THE SHAPESHIFTER GOT ME

I SAW IT COMING TOO GODDAMMIT

the slither and the blood tho, that looks cool

OO THAT’S A COOL ENDING SHOT WITH HER JUST SUPER MESSED UP

Once again violence against women making the point yadayada, still a cool shot

AND THEY VANISHED???

THEY STOLE A SWAT UNIFORM HOLY SHIT

I like the song, I don’t know it though

THE FUCKING SONG

THE JIG IS UP, THE NEWS IS OUT, THEY FOUND ME BAHAHAHA

That was so Fucking jarring oh my god

This song is CATCHY damn

it’s Styx, Renegade, so yes, on brand

aight wrap-up:

1. Cinematography and basic film stuff? excellent. The filter was helping the vibe, the shots were cool, shaky cam was sparingly and properly used to convey off kilter emotions, the sound cutting made sense. Very technically well done, I enjoyed it.

2. So much happened this episode, and while I’m not entirely clear on how much I like everything that did, character wise, I did like the “go with the flow” and how fucking much it progressed. Like it was nice having a plot episode that barely dragged.

3. The storyline, no trust, bank heist thing? cool concept, interesting execution, genuinely suspenseful and batshit in a lot of places. Good play on the tropes involved, I very much appreciated

4. getting to the FBI stuff means I’m very curious to see what’s gonna happen

5. That fucking song choice at the end KILLED ME. Like yes, good song, but “we are so screwed” following by the scream-sung lyrics of THE JIG IS UP was just...hilarious

6. Oh i do need the serious note of Sam being more pissy, Dean being laid-back and the hero-worship he still has for his dad. That is important to note.

okie onward!

[redditnosleep]

I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell

by searchandrescuewoods.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (Final)

So I logged back on tonight and was blown away by the staggering amount of interest this seems to have generated. First off, I'll address a few things that you guys have brought up:

There's been an overwhelming amount of people mentioning the similarity between some of my stories and those of David Paulides. I assure you I'm not trying to rip him off in any way, I've got nothing but respect for the guy. He's actually what inspired me to write this, because I can verify a lot of the things he talks about. We do have a lot of these strange missing persons cases, and most of the time they aren't solved. Either that, or we find them in places they have no business being. I personally haven't been on many calls like that, but I'll share a few that I've seen, and a story my friend told me that relates to this.

There was a lot of feedback about the stairs, so I'll touch on that briefly here, and I'll also include a story. They come in a variety of shapes, sizes, styles, and conditions. Some are pretty dilapidated, just ruins, but others are brand new. I saw one set that looked like they came from a lighthouse: they were metal and spiral, almost old-fashioned. The stairs don't go up infinitely, or farther than I can see, but some sets are taller than others. Like I said before, just imagine the stairs in your house, as if someone cut-and-pasted them in the middle of nowhere. I don't have any pictures, it's never really occurred to me to try again after the first time, and I don't really feel like risking my job over it. I'll try again in the future, but I can't really promise anything.

A few people expressed confusion about the guy who ran into the man with no face. Just to clarify, when the climber ascended and reached the top of this peak, he saw another man in a parka and ski pants. This was the man with no face. Sorry about the confusing wording of that story, I'll try to avoid that in the future.

Alright, on to the new stories:

As far as missing persons go, I'd say about half the calls I get are related to that. The others are rescue calls; people who fall down cliffs and hurt themselves, get injured by fire (you wouldn't believe how often this happens, mostly drunk kids), get bitten or stung by animals or insects. We're a tight team, and we have veterans who are excellent at finding signs of lost people. That's what makes these cases where we never find any trace of them so frustrating. One in particular was upsetting for all of us, because we did find a trace of them, but it just led to more questions than answers. An older man had been hiking alone on a well-established trail, but his wife called to say that he hadn't come home when he should have. Apparently he had a history of seizures, and she was worried that he hadn't taken his medication and had suffered one out on the trail. Before you ask, I have no idea why he thought it was okay to go out alone, or why she didn't go with him. I don't ask about that kind of thing because past a certain point, it really doesn't matter. Someone is missing, and it's my job to find them. We went out in a standard search formation, and it wasn't long before one of our vets found signs that the guy had gone off the trail. We grouped up and followed him, spreading out in a fan to make sure we were covering as much ground as possible. Suddenly, a call comes over the radio telling us to all head back to the vets location, and we come right away, because this usually means the missing person is injured, and we need a full team to help get them out safely. We meet back up, and the vet is just standing at the base of a tree with his hands on the sides of his head. I ask my buddy what's going on, and he points up into the branches of this tree. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing, but there's a walking stick dangling from a branch at least thirty feet off the ground. The little strap thing on the handle has been looped around the branch, and it's just hanging there. There's no way the guy could have tossed it up that far, and we don't see any other signs that he's still in the area. We call up into the tree, but it's obvious no one's in it. We're all just sort of left scratching our heads. We keep searching for the guy, but we never find him. We even bring our canines out, but they lose his scent long before this tree. Eventually, the search is called off, because there are other calls we have to attend to, and past a certain point there's not much we can do. The guy's wife called us every day for months, asking if we'd found her husband, and it was heartbreaking to hear her get more and more hopeless each time. I'm not sure why this call in particular was so upsetting, but I think it was just the sheer improbability of it. That and the questions that were raised. How the hell had this guy's cane ended up there? Did someone kill him and toss that up there as some weird trophy? We did our best to find him, but it was almost like a taunt. We still talk about that one from time to time.

Missing kids are the most heart-breaking. Doesn't matter what circumstances they go missing under, it's never easy, and we always, always dread the ones we find deceased. It's not common, but it does happen. David Paulides talks a lot about kids SAR teams find in places they shouldn't be, or couldn't be. I can honestly say I've heard about this kind of thing happening more than I've seen it, but I'll share one of the ones that I think about a lot that I witnessed personally. A mother and her three kids were out for a picnic in an area of the park that has a small lake. One is six, one is five, and the other is about three. She's watching them all really closely, and according to her, she never lets them out of her sight at any time. She never saw anyone else in the area either, which is important. She packs their stuff up and they start to head back to the parking area. Now, this lake is only about two miles into the woods, and it's on a very clearly established trail. It's almost impossible to get lost getting from the parking area to it, unless you're deliberately going off the path like an imbecile. Her kids are walking in front of her, when she hears what sounds like someone coming up the path behind her. She turns around, and in the four or so seconds she's not looking, her five-year-old son vanishes. She figures he's stepped off the trail to pee or something, and she asks her other two where he went. They both tell her that 'a big man with a scary face' came out of the woods next to them, took the kid's hand, and led him into the trees. The two remaining kids don't seem upset, in fact she says later that it seems like they've been drugged. They're sort of spacey and fuzzy. So of course, she freaks out, starts looking frantically in the area for her kid. She's screaming his name, and she says at one point she thinks she heard him answer her. Now obviously she can't go blindly running into the woods, she's got the other two kids, so she calls the police and they send us out immediately. We respond, and we start the search for him.Over the course of this search, which spans miles, we never find a single trace of the kid. Canines can't pick up any scent, we don't find any clothing or broken bushes or literally anything that would signify a child being there. Of course there's suspicion about the mother for a while, but it's pretty clear that she's completely destroyed by the whole thing. We looked for this kid for weeks, with a lot of volunteer help. But eventually, the search peters out, and we have to move on. The volunteers keep searching, though, and one day we get a call on the radio letting us know that a body has been found and needs to be recovered. They tell us the location, and none of us can believe it. We figure it has to be a different kid. But we go out there, about 15 miles from the site where he vanished, and sure enough, we find the body of the kid we've been looking for. I have been trying to figure out how this kid got where he did ever since we found him, and I've never come up with an answer. A volunteer just happened to be in the area, because he figured he might as well look in places no one else would think to on the off chance the body had been dumped. He comes to the base of a tall, rocky slope, and half-way up, he sees something. He looks through his binoculars and sure enough, it's the body of a little boy, stuffed in a little opening in the rock. He recognizes the color of the kid's shirt, so he knows right away that it's the missing boy. That's when he calls it in, and we're dispatched. It took us almost an hour to get his body down, and none of us could believe what we were seeing. Not only was this kid 15 miles from where he'd started, there was no possible way he could have gotten up there on his own. This slope is treacherous, and it's hard even for us with our climbing gear. A five-year-old boy had no way of getting up there, of that I'm certain. Not only that, but the kid doesn't have a scratch on him. His shoes are gone, but his feet aren't damaged or dirty. So it wasn't as if an animal dragged him up there. And from what we can tell, he hasn't been dead that long. He'd been out there over a month by that point, and it looked like he'd only been dead for, at most, a day or two. The whole thing was unbelievably strange, and was one of the most disconcerting calls I've ever been on. We found out later that the coroner determined the kid had died from exposure. He'd frozen to death, probably late at night two days before we found him. There were no suspects, and no answers. To date, it's one of the weirdest things I've ever seen.

One of my first jobs as a trainee was a search op for a four-year-old kid that had gotten separated from his mom. This was one of those cases where we knew we were gonna find him because the dogs were on a strong scent trail, and we saw clear signs that he was in the area. We ended up finding him in a berry patch about half a mile from where he'd been last seen. Kid wasn't even aware that he'd wandered that far. One of the vets brought him back, which I was glad for because I'm really not good with kids, and I find it hard to talk to them and keep them company. As my trainer and I are headed back, she decides to take me on a detour to show me one of the hot spots where we tend to find missing people. It's a natural dip in the land near a popular trail, and people will usually move downhill because it's easier. We hike out there, it's a few miles away, and we get there in about an hour or so. As we're walking around the area and she's pointing out places she's found people in the past, I see something in the distance. Now, this area we're in is about eight miles from the main parking area, though there's back roads you can take to get closer if you don't want to hike that far. But we're on state-protected land, which means there can't be any kind of commercial or residential development out here. The most you'll ever see is a fire tower or makeshift shelter that homeless people think they can get away with building. But I can see from here that whatever this thing is has straight edges, and if there's one thing you learn quickly, it's that nature rarely makes straight lines. I point it out, but she doesn't say anything. She just hangs back and lets me wander over and check it out. I get within about twenty feet of it, and all the hair on the back of my neck stands up. It's a staircase. In the middle of the fucking woods. In the proper context, it would literally be the most benign thing ever. It's just a normal staircase, with beige carpet, and about ten steps tall. But instead of being in a house, where it obviously should be, it's out here in the middle of the woods. The sides aren't carpeted, obviously, and I can see the wood it's made of. It's almost like a video game glitch, where the house has failed to load completely and the stairs are the only thing visible. I stand there, and it's like my brain is working overtime to try and make sense of what I'm seeing. My trainer comes and stands next to me, and she just stands there casually, looking at it as if it's the least interesting thing in the world. I ask her what the fuck this thing is doing here, and she just chuckles. 'Get used to it, rookie. You're gonna see a lot of them.' I start to move closer, but she grabs my arm. Hard. 'I wouldn't do that.' She says. Her voice is casual, but her grip is tight, and I just stand there looking at her. 'You're gonna see them all the time, but don't go near them. Don't touch them, don't go up them. Just ignore them.' I start to ask her about it, but something in the way she's looking at me tells me that it's best if I don't. We end up moving on, and the subject doesn't come up again for the rest of my training. She was right, though. I'd say about every fifth call I go on, I end up running across a set of stairs. Sometimes they're relatively close to the path, maybe within two or three miles. Sometimes they're twenty, thirty miles out, literally in the middle of nowhere, and I only find them during the broadest searches or training weekends. They're usually in good condition, but sometimes it looks like they've been out there for miles. All different kinds, all different sizes. The biggest I ever saw looked like they came out of a turn-of-the-century mansion, and were at least ten feet wide, with steps leading up at least fifteen or twenty feet. I've tried talking about it with people, but they just give me the same response my trainer did. 'It's normal. Don't worry about it, they're not a big deal, but don't go close to them or up them.' When trainees ask me about it now, I give them the same response. I don't really know what else to tell them. I'm really hoping someday I get a better answer, but it hasn't happened yet.

This is another one that was less spooky and more sad. A young man went missing late in winter, when realistically no one should be going that far out onto the trails. We close a lot of them, but some remain open year round, unless there's a shit-load of snow. We did an op for him, but we had about six feet of snow on the ground (it was an unusually heavy snow year), and we knew it wasn't likely that we'd find him until spring when the thaw came. Sure enough, when the first big thaw came, a hiker reported a body a little ways off the main trail. We found him at the base of a tree, in a pile of melted snow. I knew right away what had happened, and it scared the living shit out of me. Most of you who ski or snowboard, or spend any amount of time on a mountain, will probably have guessed too. When snow falls, it doesn't collect as thick in the areas beneath the branches. It happens most with fir trees, because they have a sort of closed umbrella shape. So what you end up with is a space around the base of a tree that's filled with a mixture of loose, powdery snow, air, and branches. They're called tree wells, and they're not immediately obvious if you don't know what you're looking for. We put up signs in the welcome center, big ones, letting people know how dangerous they are, but every year that we get an unusual amount of snow, at least one person doesn't read them, or doesn't take the warning seriously, and we find out about it in spring. My best guess is that this young man was hiking and got tired, or maybe a cramp from walking in the deep snow. He went to go sit at the base of the tree, not knowing that there was a tree well, and fell in. He got stuck with his feet up, and the surrounding snow caved in around him. Unable to free himself, he suffocated. It's called snow immersion suffocation, and it doesn't usually happen except in really deep snow. But if you get stuck in a weird position, like this guy did, even six feet of snow can be lethal. What scared me the most was imagining how he must have struggled. Upside down, in the freezing cold, he didn't die quickly. The snow would have formed a dense, heavy pile on top of him, and it would have been literally impossible to get out. As it got harder to breathe, he would have known what was happening. I can't even imagine what he was thinking in his last moments.

A lot of my less outdoorsy friends want to know if I've ever seen the Goatman while I've been out on calls. Unfortunately, or I guess fortunately, I've never had anything quite like that happen. I guess the closest was the whole 'black-eyed man' thing, but I didn't see anything. However, there was one call where I had something kind of similar happen, but I'm not sure I'm willing to chalk it up to the Goatman. We'd gotten a report that an older woman had fainted along one of the trails, and needed assistance getting back down to the main area. We hike up to where she's at, and her husband is just beside himself. He runs, well, I guess more jogs, to us, and tells us that he was a little ways off the trail looking at something when his wife starts screaming behind him. He runs back to her and she's passed out on the trail. We get her on a backboard, and as we're getting her down to the welcome center, she comes to and starts screaming again. I calm her down and ask her what happened. I can't remember verbatim what she said, but essentially, what happened was this: She'd been waiting for her husband when she started hearing this really strange sound. She said it sounded sort of like a cat, but it was off somehow, and she couldn't quite figure out why. She went a little ahead to try and hear it better, and it sounded like it was coming closer. She said the closer it got, the more uneasy she was, until she finally figured out what was wrong. I do remember this next part, because it was so weird that I don't think I could forget it if I tried. "It wasn't a cat. It was a man, saying the word 'meow' over and over. Just 'meow, meow, meow'. But it wasn't a man, it couldn't have been, because I've never heard a man make his voice buzz like that. I thought my hearing aid was going out, but it wasn't, I adjusted it and it still sounded all buzzy. It was awful. He was coming closer, but I couldn't see him. And the closer he got the more scared I was, and the last thing I remember was a shape coming out of the trees. I guess that's when I fainted." Now, obviously I'm a little perplexed as to why a guy would be out in the fucking woods chanting 'meow, meow' at people. So once we get down the mountain, I tell my superior that I'm gonna go search the area to see if I can find anything. He gives me the go ahead, and I grab a radio and hike back to where she fainted. I don't see anyone, so I keep going about a mile more, and I when I head back I go off the trail, to see if I can figure out where she saw him coming from. It's almost sunset by this point, and I don't have any desire to be out at night alone, so I just sort of write it off and make a mental note to check it out again tomorrow. But as I'm headed back, I start to hear something in the distance. I stop, and I call out for anyone in the immediate area to identify themselves. The sound didn't come closer or get louder, but it sounded exactly like a man saying 'meow, meow' in this really odd monotone. As comical as it makes it sound, it was almost like that guy on South Park with the electrolarynx, Ned. I go off the trail in the direction I think it's coming from, but I never seem to get closer. It's almost like it's coming from all directions. Eventually, it just sort of fades out, and I ended up going back to the welcome center. I didn't get any further reports like that, and even though I went back to that area, I never heard that exact sound again. I suppose it could have been some stupid kid out there fucking with people, but even I have to admit it was weird.

So this kind of turned into a massive wall of text, and for that I apologize. I wanted to get to the stories my friend told me, and he does have some good ones, so I'll post those tomorrow evening. I also have a few more of my own I think you guys will like. I'm sorry to keep you all in suspense again, hopefully the stories here make up for it and help you get through the next 24 hours until I can post again!