#then again though all his songs are some of his finest (except for back chat). he's the best songwriter in that damn band

[everysongineverykey]

🎧

If You Can't Beat Them- Queen

Ain't no use in you sitting all alone, hanging around / for someone to call / Ooh, they won't come knocking at all / Don't run and hide / even if it hurts you inside

[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.�� I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[illyrian-lover-flower]

Crow of hope

Hey @duneska​ I want to wish you a Happy and full of delight filled Birthday, you truly deserve it 😊.

You have become a wonderful friend over the little time I knew you and you just brightened up my whole day with even the littlest message. The conversations we had were always so bright and funny to me, and I just bonded with you over similarities I always believed no one would get.

But I am so glad I was wrong and I was able to form this friendship with you, you were after all one of the persons who brightened up my tumblr experience the most. 

And like I said, you brightened up my day with even the littlest message.

I hope I could also brighten your day a bit and wish you a lot of fun with this piece I’ve written.

It might not be your taste as it is rather angsty at the beginning, but I’ll promise there is a lot of fluff making up for it. Something I also want to apologise in advance for is that it turned out soo long, but when I tried to shorten it - I just wasn’t happy with it. So buckle up and enjoy this fic with a well deserved piece of cake 😊

However, I have brabbled enough - enjoy your Birthday present and your B-day😊

Words: ~8.5k

„Alright, put the daffodils right there – yes, to the Dahlias.” Commanded Elain in a soft voice as fae of all kinds bustled around the grand hall – her voice a drowned-out whisper in all the other murmurs which echoed off the sleek white walls. Bustling skirts, hurried steps, exhausted breaths, and small conversations all around her lithe body, while everyone -female, male, old and young – worked together to make their High Lady proud.

No one knew that it wasn’t their priced High Lady who organized all this; the flowers, the decoration, the cluttery – it was all chosen by Elain, though the main idea really came from Feyre and perhaps that was all that mattered, but right now there was no time to frown at that.

Tables were still in the need to be placed by the walls, so everyone could dance to their hearts content in the middle of the great hall with tapered ceilings, the last bits of food needed preparation and mostly had the decoration to be finished -the colours a special order from Feyre herself when she had approached Elain two weeks ago. Telling her sister in a rushed afternoon, which the seer spent working in her greenhouse, that she would love to have an garland of flowers – rowed in the colours of the rainbow – stretching all over the room.

Considering the fact that the hall was at least thrice the size of the river Estates living room and mid-January – it was a miracle that there were even that many flowers available in Velaris. Many florists had given their last flowers to the charity event of the High Lady, once Elain’s begging voice whispered through their ears, having to close for the next couple of days as they had no other arrangements to put on display, but no one of the shop owners seemed to care.

And honestly, Elain didn’t either -having put the blooming part of her spacious greenhouse to good use – as the last flowers were braided into a river of poinsettias, orange Dahlias, daffodils, Jasmines, light blue Delphiniums and many, many more. If the seer was truly truthful, were it a bit too varying shades of colours to her, as they nearly seemed to jump into one’s eye, but who was she to care. Feyre was the artist who wished to paint this dull hall into a sea of happiness and surely knew what she was doing – hopefully.

Thought Elain while her delicate hands smoothed over the sea of flowers, a coughing fit crawling from her throat the moment all those different smells hit her flaring nose thrills – giving her already a headache – while she ordered for the garland to be pulled up.

“It’s just … magnificent.” Breathed Feyre next to Elain, a swirling cloud of dark chiffon skirts swaying to her feet, as she watched how the rainbow expanded over their heads in a bow, like a real rainbow. “It sure is.” Coughed Elain, while she tried to hide her coughing fit and tearing eyes behind the back of her hand – this was just too much for her nose!

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay till the party starts? You know, my students keep nagging me to bring my pretty sister back to the art lessons.” Mocked her carefree voice the tearing seer, who just shook her head – to more she wasn’t able anyway as Feyre already rushed off to Rhysand, who strode into the grand hall as if it was a catwalk, together with Nyx on his hip. Smiling sadly to herself did the seer shake her head and avoided to gaze at the happy family, safe, together and alive – unlike many other families who had fallen victim to the war.

The cold luring song of death pulling all those warriors and innocent fae away from their loved ones. This evening was for those loved ones, who stayed in the charts and rubble of a past life. This evening was supposed to be  giving them  hope – hope of a healed life as they were to laugh to their hearts content again. And Elain should have been happy for Feyre and Rhys – is happy for them – but somehow this was never all she felt, somehow there was this pinch. Twisting and stabbing her guts whenever she thought of all of the happiness, the freedom – all which she denied herself and did not dare to believe in anymore, as it was taken from her. Her freedom – her choice. Given to a male she nearly did not change a word with and did not even whish to have a bond with as her happiness vanished in the puff of a stary night as a ravenous voice declared to her: ‘It was a mistake.’

Never would she forget those words. Never would she ever be able to hear them from him again -whispered, yelled, breathed, or just told in a voice as cold as a grave – as no matter how, they would always be her end. Always send her heart bleeding in a flood of scarlet red while her eyes cried the river of a thousand seas binding together.

But it was no use- mourning after someone she was not supposed to be with. After all immortality awaited her and right now were the things on her mind far more important than a male – no matter how charming, generous, kind, patient and good looking he was. Elain tried to shake her head at those silly thoughts, her bleeding-heart wandering in a mine of salt with them, as her golden locks flew around her like a spinning skirt of the finest silk twirling under the glimmering lights of a chandelier. Sparkling and sprinkling as if a thousand stars lived in those heavy strands of hair. But those stars would not shine, would not rise as she hurried with silent steps away from the last preparations.

Past a happily laughing Rhys and Feyre as they listened to Nyx blabbering and let her pass without a second glance into the dull hallway.

‘She forgot!’

‘Of course, she forgot!’

Raged her mind while she waltzed over the marble in a barrel of sky blue chiffon skirts; ‘Why would she remember?’ , asked her heart her, this traitorous head of hers silently answering her ‘She has many things swirling in her head right now, she just forgot this year – there are millennia’s to come, don’t be too hard on her.’

Lie! Screamed her shattered heart, as tears dreaded to fall from her doe eyes, waiting like brave sailors at a plank end for the final push of the captain, while her delicate hands gathered the soft material of a dainty blue chiffon. But this last push never came.

The words in her head and memory those of a salt dipped dagger, but she did not cry, did not bend as her cruel heart sang to her, that her sister had not only forgotten this years Birthday, but the one of last year and the one before that and even before that.

Feyre forgot Elain’s birthday for the fourth time in a row and if things were going to continue like they were now, her younger sister would surely wonder in a century, if Elain was truly born or just popped out of a seed on some nameless day. Though Nesta was not of much difference, her number of rows only a three, while her pretendence of knowing her beloved gardener sister hurt just as much as Feyres.

Both seeming to know what was best for her.

Both seeming to know that a rainbow would wait to be spotted in her life – funny thing was just, that instead of letting her watch out for the numerous colours painted in her fate, did those two stand in front of her. Clouding her vision and senses with their good believed thoughts as they were ready to fight for this miraculous happiness of hers with a shield, dagger and sword, and bow and arrow. Never letting anyone past them, as they watched out for her, believing that this suffocating grip they had on her heart was something non-existent.

But they didn’t know that she felt about them this way, after all – Elain never really spoke a word of discomfort to them, never truly. All that spoke for her was her body – lithe a pale swaying from time to time under the glowing sun, whilst her last meal had been days ago. A peaceful sleep seemingly something which mocked her from a century long distance as it escaped her over and over again.

But no one noticed -except for Nuala and Cerridwen, who tried to nurse the delicate fawn silently back to health with heart sweetening friendship and occasional baking lessons, in which they all ate the results after wards.

Though did another name occur in her mind, as she raced through the long, sleek corridors and farther away from the shining stomach of the bustling manor. Grabbing her lilac cloak in a hurried way, while she repeated that same name over and over again in her head. The smile she wore stretching itself impossibly wider on her lips the more often she thought of him and his dazzling smile. Him and his gleaming eyes and sun lightening laughter.

And it were those thoughts which made her rushed walk to her home so much lighter, almost jumping from one step to the other as she hurried past chatting fae on the cobbled street. Only noticing with a distant consciousness that each house she passed grew darker and darker. Colour fading, whilst walls crumbled under the broken roofs.

Her nose didn’t even scrunch up at the rotten smell which wafted through the air, unlike she had done before, because she knew -just knew- that this was a familiar scent. One which would come without suffocating sisters, one which would come without an always smiling gardener but one which would come with a light sweet hearted boy, who lived among greys and browns.

Only a few houses stood crumbled, but proud, under the sinking sun of the night court. Rags and hastily put-up tents dominating the dark paths far in the outskirts of Velaris. Though some did not want to acknowledge that they were still part of this shining city, feeling out of place and unheard, whilst the high fae and lesser fae lived in glorious peace with their High Lord and Lady, who believed to have restored houses and families of their city. The healing of the peoples hearts a process which started long ago. The charity ball of Feyre was a part of this process too.

Her cheery and optimistic self, which also understood the pain and grief of the fae, made them all come together for those in need -mostly for those at the rainbow. Little did one of them know that those who needed the help the most, suffered in silence under ruins, and decayed bodies of their loved ones. Skeletons of delicate fae females, bulky males, Illyrians and even children resting in dreading ivory colour among crumbled walls and roofs.

Fortunately, he was not one of them, luckily, he was brave enough to get a hold of her skirt one fateful day on which she got lost. Mortified by the skeletons, ruins and death singing streets, did her heart nearly leap out of her chest once this little hand brought her to a halt. This traitorous muscle already readying her to meet the empty eye sockets of a dead being. But those eyes glittering and shimmering like a mountain lake at her were pretty much the liveliest she had ever seen. Specks of brown and green swimming in those eyes of his, that one could think they were fishes enjoying the warm presence of him.

Just like Elain would do now, as she reached a small house. A cracked door -rotten and hanging off on one hinge- was all which kept her from seeing him again. Eager to see his blinding smile, did she knock three times: one short and two long, just like she had told him.

“Elain!” squeaked his voice already from the inside, as he hurried to haul the door open. The seer could only smile at the little boy standing in front of her with this dazzling grin – one of his front incisors gone. “Hey Amel! Would you let me in?” “Of course!” beamed the boy and crushed the seer into a warm hug once she closed the door behind her. “What did I miss while I was gone?” spoke her voice softly, once she had picked him up and carried him towards the rag of a couch only a few steps away. His little wings twitching up for the shortest of moments, when she accidentally brushed the base of his wings with a slightly calloused hand. “Nothing much.”, mumbled Amels voice into her shoulder, “though I did miss you. Does that count?” Elain giggled at his hopeful eyes and could only plop his little nose; “Of course it does! I missed you too after all.”

Amel nuzzled into her at those sweet words and enjoyed her warmth like a giant cat, which curled up on the seers chest. Though he did not purr, but did the boy fold his wings neatly back in – almost as if he were ready to fall asleep.

“I have a surprise for you!” spoke up the little Illyrian in a rush, once Elain sat on the slightly mushy pillows of the couch, as if he had just remembered the surprise himself rather than to tell Elain. “And which one is that?” But she did not even receive an answer, as the little Illyrian had long scurried to the kitchenette in the back of the giant room, in which next to the sofa and a kitchenette stood an old table, with two chairs, accompanied by an old cask, which worked as a bathtub and an ancient fireplace. The in grey stone set cleft gaping at her, whilst the heavy stones crumbled, but the important parts of the old fireplace were still intact. The empty blackness reminding her that she had to feed it with wood and light them up in order to have some warmth in the perforated house.

Kneeling in front of the ancient fireplace did she fed log for log and lit the stack of wood with cold shaken fingers up, silently listening how Amel dragged a chair over to the kitchenette and climbed on top of it.

It were mere minutes which the seer had spend here, yet had the sun sunken that low already, that the stars begun their twinkling evening dance atop of their heads – bringing chilly January coldness with them, that let her breath fog. And that was the sign for Elain to start the nightly preparations with a whistling wind around her shaking shoulders, picking up various piles of blankets, while Amel still bustled around in the rotten kitchen cabins.

Blanket after blanket were strained atop of the clumsily, over the holes nailed wood. Blocking out any roaring sound of cold gusts and any light. And whilst the seer put the last blanket over the gaping slit of the broken door, did Amel sit down eagerly on the couch. “Come on, Elain! You are going to miss your surprise!” She smiled then, nailing the last blanket for today against the old wood and strode over towards the young boy with two thick wool blankets in her hand.

Once she sat down on the slightly warmed pillows, did Amel pull something to the front, from behind his back, the happiest smile he ever wore stretched on his thin lips: “Happy Birthday, Elain!” Exclaimed his cheery voice and let her gaze on a plain little muffin, which was topped with a half burned Birthday candle. “You shouldn’t have, Amel.” Whispered the seer as tears welled up in her eyes and hugged him with all her blazing heart.

She had only mentioned the day of her Birthday once, in a bedtime story she told him, and here he was – this young soul, full of happiness despite all his pain, who presented her a sweet little muffin as if it was a great Birthday cake. And it was, for her it was everything she ever asked for. Elain did not need any gowns or jewellery on her Birthday as presents, she just wanted a soul which remembered her.

And Amel was together with Nuala and Cerridwen the only souls which truly remembered her. Perhaps Azriel remembered the date too, but after the Solstice a few weeks ago it was probably clear that he would not wish to speak his congratulations to her, after all – she was a mistake. One he was likely to never do again, as he seemed to avoid her like the plague – only letting her catch one accidental glance at him while he admired the work in her Greenhouse from afar.

“You have to blow out the candle!” cheered Amel. Though did his eyebrows raise once Elain told with a slightly stern voice, that he was the one to eat the muffin. “I already ate lots of cake Amel, one more bite and I’ll explode!” joked the seer, but the Illyrians wings only lowered itself down on the brown pillows “I knew it is not good enough…” “It is, Amel. This is all I could ever ask for and I bet it tastes delicious,” Elain rested her cold hands over those of the little Illyrian, cupping the muffin together with him “but you need to eat more than me. You are still growing.” He nodded at that and let the seer blow out the striped candle.

She did not have a wish then, but after Amel devoured the baked good and went to take a bath with her, did he ask her sleepily “What did you wish for?” Elain tugged the blankets around them impossibly closer, a cocoon of warmth, “I can’t tell you; it won’t come true otherwise.” “Pleaseee…” “Alright.” Chuckled Elain at the Illyrian, whose wet black hair stuck out as if it were hedgehog spikes and leaned down to him: “I wished for your Mama and Papa to come home and that you three live in a cute little hut together.” “Without you?” “I’ll come by to visit – verry often.” spoke Elain once she saw his sad blue eyes, that lit up the moment she announced her regular visits.

It made her smile, when Amel cuddled closer into the pillows of the large couch and into her warm side, his arms and wings sleepily drabbed over her while he tried, even in his sleep, to protect her and hold her close to him. Elain could only draw calming circles over his wet hair, as she too pulled his little body closer. The sad awareness of her lie chuckling behind the sofa leans at her.

She knew that Amels parents were to never return. Their broken bodies one of the first she had found and buried, after she decided to come and help those who needed it. Fae of all kind had helped her burry those which did not survive the Hybern attack and had taken her advice on going into the starlight kissed city. Only this little boy stayed.

She had met him the week after she buried the winged female and in rind covered male, the descriptions he made to her sending chills down her spine as she realized that he was the child of those two lovers. An orphan now – though did he not know it, as he eagerly waited for his parents to come home after their grocery shopping and Elain did not have the heart to tell him of his parents passing. The only thing she had told him, was that they were asleep and that for a verry, verry long time – forever-she had told.

But Amel did not understand the meaning of those words and simply waited for his parents, in their house, to wake up and get him back. Elain couldn’t count the times she had asked the boy to come with her anymore. His reason of stay always the same – “Mama and Papa won’t find me, if I’ll leave.” And so, all she could do was visit him, as often as she could and if one considered that her presence at the river estate was barely acknowledged, did she spend almost all her time here. The only ones which knew about her whereabouts were Nuala and Cerridwen, who occasionally send her with a basket ‘into town’ to get something for them, if Feyre ever asked. Though did the basket never come back filled – it was always empty. The smuggled loaves of bread and wheels of cheese always staying at the little hut together with Amel, who had fallen soundly asleep next to her.

His little snores pulling her under too, whilst wind and darkness raged outside and slowly let the fire die down.

A heavy knock on the door was what pulled them awake. Sleep mused and dry did the Illyrian boy and Elain look at each other and waited for another knock, which followed soon. The seer already wanted to go and check the door herself as Amel only hurried past her, to haul the door open again. Letting her poke the dying ember glimmers in the ashes awake.

And then he just stood there at the door, wings dropped and mouth wide in amazement, did the boy not even shiver when coldness cloaked his in rags covered body. “Who is it, Amel?” shouted Elain from the fireplace, as her eyebrows furrowed together. At this time of day no one had any business to attend here. The worry she felt overtaking her once no one answered her. And as she saw the one standing on the other side of the threshold, did she nearly lose the black fire poker in her hands. Shock, delight, and pain all suddenly exploding and chasing around in her heart.

Amel only took her free hand, once he saw her frozen face – widened eyes and a slightly parted lips. “He looks like the one you always describe in my bedtime stories.” Stated his happy voice in a hushed tone, as if he feared the person at the threshold – chunky as a cupboard – was just a ghost. He was certainly not the only one believing that, as Elain herself could not process the picture in front of her.

Azriel stood there, in flesh and blood, with a heavy breath fogging the air as his murky coat and wind mussed mass of dark hair stood black against the stary night. At first glance one could believe he was one with the darkness, but at second glance one saw the broad shoulders, tugged in wings and tousled hair standing darker than the shadows against the sky. A silhouette painted in the depths of a night blooming sky in one of Feyres paintings.

And he was just that, a painting whose face lit it up in a golden hue with surprise once he saw the little Illyrian hauling the door open with his yet dainty fingers, now clutching to the seers hand. His breath halting the moment he saw her -just like hers had flogged itself away in her chest once she saw his eyes again. Dulled and almost entirely hazel, the specks of grey and green which she had spotted over a year ago, nearly gone as they seemed to hide away from pain and hurt.

“Elain.” Tore her his ravenous voice away from his empty eyes. She felt shocked, to say the least as they were always warm and seemed to sing of companionship and appreciation whenever her gaze wandered into them, but now there was nothing – just a murky sea of hazel, empty and without a feeling. “Can I come in?” “Of course!” chirped Amel before she could even lift her tongue for an answer. Sending the boy a stern look -accompanied by a suppressed smile – when he left her delicate hand and placed his little palm against Azriels large one, dragging a stumbling Shadowsinger into the little hut, as they left the seer to close the door.

Elain could only smile and shake her head, once she saw how the two took their seats on the coach, a strong wind- piercing and shivering- flickered through the rotten walls and send the fire dancing, whilst the seer merely shook at the gust. Hazily closing the door after this howling bite reminded her of the gaping opening in the wall.

“Are you really the Shadowsinger?” whispered Amel at the gigantic male by his side, as if he were afraid to accidently summon an ancient creature. “I am.” Azriel inclided his head, “At your service little lord … .” “Amel.” The Shadowsinger send a rare grin to the boy and repeated his name, which set the Illyrian giggling “But I am no Lord!”

“Really? But I thought you had the heart of one.” Mused Elain as she stepped back to the two again, her arms loaden with wood and those delicate shoulders covered in a sheet of wool. Amel watched her with raised eyebrows feed the fireplace. “How do you know one has the heart of a lord?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Smiled the seer to herself once she sat down with the two curious males. Amel a small curious bundle of wings between her and Azriel – watching her with the same curious stare as the Shadowsinger. “A lord is one of a noble kind, though I do not mean the kind of nobility you are born with. I mean a kind of nobility you grow over time, one which is not defined by money or jewels, but by the weight of the heart and one’s decisions.” Whispered her small voice at him and poked the spot above his heart with a teasing finger. “A lord is -for me- not someone born with the claim of a throne or a higher stance in society, only minding his own business and his alone. A Lord is someone who is kind and generous, with a heart as bright and pure as the sun.” And somehow her gaze wandered over the ash black locks on Amels head and into the curious eyes of the Shadowsinger.

Specks of life and colour returning to these irises in green streaks once her words had settled into his heart. A shy smile stretching on her lips after she had spotted the faint blush in his cheeks, under the glowing light of fire.  

Amel only hummed at the words. “So does that mean I am a Lord?” “To me, yes!” smiled Elain at the boy and wrapped him into the wool blanket beside him. Afraid that the wind which rattled at the planks and blankets would bite into his warmed body. Tucking him away with a careful hand and slowly pushing him down on the spacious couch. “Come on, Amel, it is time for bed.” “But I don’t wanna go to bed! We have a visitor!” Protested the young boy with an uprising of his wings and voice.

Making the Shadowsinger uncomfortable as he was brought into the argument. “I can go … if you need your rest little boy.” The little Illyrian jumped at that – not on the floor to have a temper tantrum – but to the Shadowsinger. His little fingers holding on tightly to Azriels’ neck as he sat in his lap, “No! Please don’t go! It’s nice to have you around!”

“You are certainly the only one who is thinking that.” Grinned Azriel at his head. Somehow laughter and sadness lacing those uplifted corners. Those twisted ties drawing in the seer so much, that she could not prevent those childish words from slipping; “That is not true. I like your company very much.” Only when his head snapped to her, those eyes widened and brimming with green and grey again, did she hear her own words pounding against her ear and nearly punching her heart out of her chest, as she got lost in the forest in his eyes.

Only catching herself once a last crack of wood screamed in the flames, making the burning ember jump out of the chimney and onto the rotten wooden tiles. It had the seer nearly jumping to her feet – pushing the glowing ember back with the heavy fire poker, as if she were stabbing a chicken.

Or a king for that matter, as suddenly not the gleaming heat of the fire covered her hand, but the warmth of freshly spilled blood. Elain shrieked at the sight, eyes wide and mortified did she throw the iron poker in front of the fireplace. Wiping her ash covered hand at those chiffon layers of sky blue.

Azriel was there the moment her back hit the old couch. Setting Amel on the old cushions and picking up the slightly heated fire poker with a careful, scarred, hand.

He took the space beside her the moment his ears heard the Illyrian boy shuffle to lay down, trying to give them at least the imagination of privacy with his back turned to the two fae. “El, are you alright?”

Her heart jumped at her nickname on his tongue. Rolling off of it so easily, as if he had done it a hundred times. “I am fine.” Croaked this silent voice of hers at him. Making her laugh at her ruined try of steadiness. “It’s fine Az, really. Nothing to be worried about.”

He didn’t answer her.

Hearing the lie a mile away even if he were deaf.

But he gave her time to sort herself out and collect all the silent thoughts she did not share with him. The moment she wanted to, his words flowing into hers as they were to interrupt each other’s sentences; “What are you doing here Azriel?” “I wanted to wish you a happy Birthday.”

They looked at each other then, really and for the first time in weeks. Those brown swirls in the seers’ eyes drawing him in, as if he were a child yearning for chocolate. Whilst the seer wandered into those streaks of green in his irises as if they were a mystical forest, she long wished to discover, but never dared to.

It had them still, yet throwing their heads back as laughs, as sweet as the first flowers in spring bloomed from the seer’s mouth. Whilst those frail petals slithered down Azriels spine, had the rich ravenous sound of his laughter goosebumps emitting on the seer’s skin. Amel merely turned around, peeking at the two adults merely sitting inches away from each other. The Shadowsingers wings slightly extended to Elain’s side as content silence wrapped around them as a warming blanket.

Even after weeks of silence did not change a thing of their companionship.

Even after all this time, after all the mistakes, had nothing changed.

There was a bond, buzzing and glowing, as warm as a hearth between them. But something dimmed this radiant glow.

Though it was no shadow which touched this magnificent bond. Enthralled by this golden glow themselves did they sneak around it like curious snakes, watching and gazing, tracing and tickling.

But neither of the two fae acknowledged this bond, this tether between night and day.

And so Amel saw it upon himself to cut through this thick silence, once no one dared to utter a word, not even a heave of a silent breath. “Elain, I am tired. Can you tell me a story, please?” “Of course!” jumped the seer to answer immediately, as she turned to wrap him up. Snuggling onto the couch close to his fragile body, to prevent him from freezing, and put another blanket atop his frame.

It didn’t take long for the boy to nuzzle into the seers side, pressing his rounded ear next to her left ribcage -listening to the thundering sound of her heart. “Do you want to listen too, Shadowsinger?”

“Please, call me Azriel. And only will I stay if your mother is alright with it.” Elain stiffned at that, barely noticeable -at least for Amel- as the little boy merely answered him “Elain is not my Mama – but she is waiting, together with me, for her to come back.”

Dread immediately filled Azriels guts as he saw the almost invisible shake of her head. He was an orphan. Left in the rubble of Hyberns attack.

He had to chock down a small “I am sorry.” For the boy did not yet know of his parents passing. But even though this was a message as dark as a shadow, did he still feel a spark of light inside this black mist, when he remembered how long ago the attack was and Elain was still here to watch and guid him. “Before you ask, Azriel, I don’t want to go into the city. Mama and Papa won’t know where I am if I leave.” Yawned the boy tiredly, surprising the Shadowsinger ever more, as he seemed to have known his next question.

Elain merely smiled at the boy and caressed his back protectively, whispering to no one in particular “I have tried to convince him for months now to come with me into Velaris, or at least a little hut -not a ruin- but this stubborn Illyrian doesn’t even give me a chance to reason with him.” Her gaze shifted then, from a warm fire to a cold batch of earth “But I am already used to that.”

Azriel didn’t know if she meant the incident on solstice, or if she was talking about her lack of choice in general, but he did not dare to pry any further as the shadows whispered of her uneasiness to him.

Amel seemed almost fast asleep in her arms, lulled in by the beat of her heart -how he would have liked to switch places with the little boy – barely noticing anything around him as he carefully got up from the creaking floor. “I better get –“ “Stay.” Interrupted him Elain before his heavy booted feet could even make one tentative step towards the door.

The Shadowsinger was torn between leaving and staying. The High Lords words,as well as his own ringing in his rounded ears. ‘You are to stay away from her.’ ‘It was a mistake.’

Did these words hunt her just as much as they chased him?

Letting him grief and nearly cry out in anger at a love he was denied being with, as his brother -His High Lord- assumed him to be driven by the need of his lusts. But this was by far the furthest thing from reality. He had long admitted to himself, that the taste of the seer on his tongue would send him to heaven and hell all the same.

But what he carved more than any taste of her, was just the feeling of her. The warmth of her lithe body seeping into him, whenever she would hug him. The sound of her voice giggling at one of his dry jokes – whilst her smile brightened up his world. Her smell a perfume of Jasmin he wished to smell for the rest of eternity.

And driven by all that -his hearts carvings- did he give in to the temptation of her company and settled to rest at the other end of the brown couch. One of the woollen blankets Elain had carried before resting atop his massive frame with slight scratches, but they gave him warmth and something other to concentrate on than the seers smell.

„All right. You settled in, Amel?” “Uhmm.” Hummed his young voice at Elain, sleep already drenching from every little sound. It had the seer giggling, whilst the Illyrian only nuzzled into her. Merely peeking an eye open when he had heard nothing of the silent Shadowsinger. Only to see the picture of darkness at the wrong spot.

Elain was sure, that if Feyre, or any other artist was to capture this moment, it would not be the taunt reality with a shy Shadowsinger trying to hide at the other end of the couch. For anyone else it would be death peering down on his next victims. The shadows behind him seemingly lashing and wiping at those preys, whilst the truth was one of shyness. The shadows not knowing what to do with themselves as their master was fully at ease and their presence of needlessness. But the curiosity they harboured, for the story that was to come, made them stay. Shyly settling down by Azriels wings and shoulders as they waited patient as dogs for the seer to begin.

But apparently was Amel not happy with the arrangements. Huffing a loud puff of air at the seer when he had realized the uncomfortable shyness with which Azriel gazed at them. “Azriel, please come here too – I wanna cuddle with you too!” It had the Shadowsinger go stiff as a board, the calm shadows beside him suddenly twitching alive again. But instead of lashing out to protect this cupboard of a male, did they more seem to gather behind his back. As if trying to push him.

“Traitors!” muttered the Shadowsinger under his breath, making the seer giggle ever the softest at his stern gaze into the black void. Amel hadn’t heard this word, which echoed through the seers pointed ear, but was delighted when he saw the dark male standing and gathering his blanket. The fire beside them dancing and seemingly caressing the stern panels of his face and gigantic wings.

Every other kid would have trembled in fear at him. Afraid that those painful eyes would hide a volcano of rage and violence, but Amel knew it better. And Elain couldn’t help as to smile at herself, with the knowledge that this better knowledge of the boy was her fault – telling him every night a tale of the Shadowsinger, which she herself heard from Nuala and Cerridwen.

“Scoot over.” Ordered Amel with the try to push the seer at the sofa lean. Even though the seating was rather large considered to regular couches, it still was not enough to fit all three next to each other.

Azriel already wanted to see it as a cue to finally go. A sigh of relief, but also exhaustion flooding him, as his heart yearned for the company of the seer. But also was afraid to come too close to her. Hurting her perhaps. He didn’t wanted to do that.

To his relief or unluck, he wasn’t sure, grabbed the seven year old his tainted hand and pushed him into the space next to Elain.

The seer, as well as the Shadowsinger, gazed at each other in a moment of surprise. Their widened eyes searching the company of each other as Azriels wings twitched beneath him, adjusting ever the slightest to his new form of rest -trying to make them some space.

But as it turned out was the only option to let Elain slightly lean up and let the wing pass under her. Cradling this lithe body of hers, while Amel crawled on the males chest and snuggled between the two. His own wings a warm cocoon around him. “Comfortable?” asked Azriel the boy and had his heart leaping in his chest at the bright smile the boy offered him. Hugging him close as if he were not a monster, as if he were not covered in the blood of hundreds and hundreds, but as if he were a male like everyone else. With a heart and a life and a mind which could make generous decisions.

It was the case that he did, but right now, even this moment seemed too innocent to weigh against all the bad decisions he made. Sensing his discomfort snaked the seer an arm around the little Illyrian between them, and let her palm silently rest on his drumming heart. She felt every nervous pump of blood on her skin, yet she merely smiled and tugged the blankets -which were shortly discarded- up to cover all three of them.

The fire still crackling happily in its pit. Whilst those three souls lay in comfort there.

It was the physically closest they had ever been. Even with Amel between them could the seer not say were his heaving chest ended and her calming hand started, connecting them as if he were a vibrant tree sprouting out of her calming earth. Somehow this coaxed a smile out of her and using the situation shamelessly by snuggling even closer.

But it did not like as if Azriel minded, as his scarred hand grabbed a hold of her waist. Steadily keeping her against him.

“Ready for your story?” whispered Elain in the warmth before the fire. “Yes!” declared the boy and too, snuggled closer to the Shadowsinger. In whose chest seemed to bloom a flower of happiness, nurtured by the appreciation, patience and love of those two in his arms.

Elain merely smiled and started a tale which the quiet Shadowsinger was to remember even in the passage of centuries.

“Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She was of utter beauty and kindness, pure and entirely unstained. Something her two sisters wanted to prevent from ever happening, as they searched the truest, kindest and sweetest soul for her sister to marry. Promising her hand to him at a time she had not even met this mysterious man. The bubble of solitude and guarded safety her sisters kept her in, stifling her chances of ever getting to know him before their wedding was to happen. Promising her forever to the hand of a stranger, who did not even own her trust.” Azriel noticed, that during sometime at her telling – had slipped a sting of pain in those normally bright shining eyes. But Azriel assumed to know why this was the case, her fingers starting to rub unconscious circles over his heart – chanting searing circles through his burning skin as his heart thundered and pumped in response at them. At even the softest of flame rings did this beating muscle in his heart not miss a chance to capture this circle.

And then she whispered again -at the night, at Amel, at him or at the fire, he wasn’t sure. “But this marriage was a trap. Not for the lovely sister, but for the poor man -who would spend his entire life in the fear of losing his wife to a so believed demon inside of her. This creature inside of her -so it was told- capturing her and leaving her eyes in a mist of grey whenever he was to talk to her. “

“Her sisters had worried for their beloved, lovely sister ever more with the passing years, as this haze of grey seemingly hunted her day and night. Fearing that this beast might kill her, had they locked her up, far, far into a tower with barred windows. Her entire freedom taken away from her, when her sisters had sent a guard to watch over her.” Elain chuckled, and sneaked a glance at the Shadowsinger, who cradled the tired Illyrian, as if her were worth an entire court. “At first, she believed him to be a statue, one created without emotions displayed on his looming face. But over the time she got to spend with him – she saw it was actually a massive cauldron brewing beneath his bronze skin. Mixing happiness, kindness, gratitude, sadness, anger and so much more into one pot that he just didn’t know how to express them.”

“But over time -even when those hazy moments possessed her- did they grow to know each other. Finding more similarities in the other than it was ever believed of a guard and a princess to have. Her sisters however were blind to the obvious trust between the guard and their sister and kept the engagement to the other man. It was when she first saw the male, so in contrast to the guard who had her trust, that this demon overtook her. Not just her eyes, but also her mouth. Speaking of a riddle which was to occupy the entire Kingdome of the princess for years: ‘The one with the deepest of values, shall be able to set her free – the one of the greatest of powers. The one having fate at her hand, a two-sided blade -one old and one new- wielding at her will. A mist of grey laying ahead of her eyes, whilst the path behind her, shall be paved forever more. The stone to rest, one which she can’t move.’ “

Her eyes glazed over at that – when her voice talked almost sacredly about those prophecies – as if she were in a memory only months away. Absently starting to trace Amels ash black curls with a tentative finger. His deep snore vibrating through the Shadowsingers chest as both watched in trance the rise of his little body. When she realized that Amel had long gone into the depths of sleep, she withdrew her hand, closing her eyes for the rest of slumber. That was until the Shadowsinger asked, a careful edge lacing his voice, “Could you please continue? I wanna know the answer to the riddle.”

Her eyes snapped woken at that, a shy smile stretching her lips, before she used the hand to cradle the felty matt of Amels hair, to caress his lightly stubbled cheek “I assume you already know the answer, Shadowsinger.” “Still. Please.” He wanted to hear her voice just for a little longer. Wanted to enjoy her embrace as long as he could – savouring every searing fingerprint of her on his skin.

Elain did not argue father than that, simply letting her words lull him in again; “Her sisters believed, that the one who had the deepest of value, was the betrothed of their beloved sister. Claiming that her love was his. But to their disappointment had he no clue, no answer with could free the lovely princess from her haze. And so, she stayed locked up, in the tower and murky depths of grey, her hand free to take – as the sisters saw that the man they chose, was a choice for another princess. The riddle, which was spoken, carried near and far. Surprisingly, luring a lot of man into the trance of the cursed princess, so it was said. “

“Her beauty had man forget the oddity ,this curse seemed to be, and made them simply wish to take her hand with the freeing of her haze. And yet, determined they all were, no one had the ability to free her from those murky grey depths. The only soul loyal by her side -unafraid- was the devoted guard by her side. Watching and protecting her like the human she was before. “

“Year went by, beforethe guard got fed up with presenting the princess constantly as if she were an animal in the zoo. A mere attraction, not a living being. The guard had heard the riddle so many times, he himself was able to recite it as if it were his own words, yet it took time too, for him to realize the meanings of the words.”

Elains brown orbs gazed deep into his then, a bright smile seemingly lightening each freckle and trace of colour in her eyes, when she recited the words he once declared “A seer. That was what the guard had told. Freeing the princess from the grey murky depths of future and past with two simple words. Spoken as if they weighed nothing. But the world rose at that day, colour, smells and feelings returning to the princess. The cry of happiness was roaring through the entire castle, as the two sisters wanted to hug their beloved sister, though had she heard nothing of that. Running past her extended arms and down the pedestal on which they kept her. Jumping right into the guards’ arms and clinging to him, as if he were her air.”

“Is that what you would have liked to do?” grinned the Shadowsinger. The tenseness of his shoulders -of his entire being- seemingly vanished into thin air within this stolen moment. Elain blushed a little, but nodded nonetheless – snuggling a bit closer to his warmth and body – whilst his wings drew in tighter and tighter around the three. As if they were the boundary between the world and their peace. “If Lucien wouldn’t have been there -as well as my sisters- I would have done so. I would have weeped into your arms out of joy.” Admitted Elain with crimson cheeks. But Azriel merely pulled her tighter with the hand around her hip.

A silent understanding that he, too, would have liked to change this moment now. But the past is paved and set in stone – no matter how many mistakes one might have done, they could only change the future. And Azriel knew the moment a loud snore left Amels lungs, that he wanted a future where this was not a stolen moment – where this was their life. And one in which this would not be a ruin, but their home.

Their home.

How he liked that sound. Making him feel all fuzzy and warms as he imagined it, not even the cold reality of the story able to catch up to him. He was with Elain in her embrace he could dream – he always did. It should have been a warning- that his mentality had went from cautious and professional to this cotton candy sprinkled mind of happiness and without boundaries – but he would take the consequences for that on another day, in another setting.

“Where did you even know from where I was?” whispered Elain into the dimming light. “I didn’t. The shadows had guided me.” And as if on queue flickered a whisper of darkness over her cheek, caressing her, as if they were a ribbon of silk. Fluttering briefly over the snoring Illyrian between them too.

“They seem to like you and him.” “I like them too.” Smiled the seer. “They are you after all.”

Azriels heart nearly burst at this as blinked away the prickling sensation in his eyes. Never, not in 500 years, had one spoken of him and his shadows like this. Never had he felt those words more than now as he was on an emotionl edge.  Torn between his High Lords command and the calming presence of this beloved female. But as she hugged him impossibly closer, he knew that he no longer was torn – that he no longer had to fight against a wish he wanted fulfilled.

Azriel was sure that he wanted Elain, courts and everything be damned, as he only hugged her closer too. She and Amel, right now the only ones which counted to him. And he was ready to die for them – if Lucien or Beron insisted on the blood duel.

“I am sorry I haven’t gotten you a Birthday gift, El.” Exclaimed his strained voice suddenly, when he noticed the seers eyes glaze over with tiredness – believing that she could not answer him anymore.

“It’s alright Az, your company is gift enough.”

And it was in that moment, when silence and sleep rested on the wind’s breath, that he didn’t know if it was the seers Birthday or his. As this was the greatest present he ever received.

*

*

*

The wind sored loudly around them, as a curtain of honey whipped in front of his face -the seer having once again not listened into braiding her hair- clouding his vision on the small hut. “We are almost home!” yelled Amels voice next to the two. His yet delicate wings carrying him carefully on the gusts of wind, as if they were lifting him up into the arms.

Azriel and Elain merely smiled, once they saw the little hut. Hidden away into a garden of wildflowers and trees, as Elain had planted them there. Around their home. Around their secret.

It was yet a story to be told to their family, of how the crow -how Azriel translated Amels name to her- had connected death and the fawn. Letting them soar high into the sky in the arms of each other. Away from responsibilitys and fate.

They knew it would all come to an end eventually -spilling the secret – but until then they had this.

A life full of sunshine, yet covered in the shadows, as they flew further and further to the wooden hut. The sun guiding them their path with a shining smile.

Whilst the Seer and the Shadowsinger could only smile as bright as the rise of a new day, “Yes, Amel, we are almost home!”

__________________________________

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[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 14 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter fourteen 

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

Life is good on the other side of Hollywood. The song really does stick. Life with Emily has definitely changed me for the better. I feel like I’m soaring on clouds every time I’m around her or even think of her. And my songwriting has gotten better too. “Where have you been?” My mother’s bone-chilling angry voice greets me when I enter the kitchen. “You’ve been out nearly every night of the week, not returning until late.” This is not going to be a fun conversation. “I was rehearsing with the boys, ma,” I say as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, hoping to escape this talking-to quickly. “Again? What about school, Charlie?!” “I did that before I left for rehearsals,” I lie. Why would anyone work for school when there are no tests this week? That’s just working for nothing. This whole school-thing is a waste of time when you think about it. I want to be a Rockstar, get Sunset Curve famous. “You don’t think I would actually believe that, right?!” Her voice rises with the second. “Believe what you want, mom. There’s nothing going on this week anyway.” I probably should not have said that because mom’s expression changes from angry to furious. “That’s no reason not to work for it, Charles Gillespie!” The full name takes me back to Emily calling me Charles and it’s enough for my brain to give my lips permission to curl up. “You think this is funny, do you?” The smile vanishes as soon as it came. “No, mom! But I got this, okay? This is my life and I’ve got control over it, okay? You have to let me live my life, mom!” The screaming match lures my father into the kitchen as well. “What’s going on here?” he asks, clearly annoyed we’d disturbed his favorite show. “Your son over here thinks he has control over his life and doesn’t need to work for school anymore,” mom explains, the volume of her voice goes down, but the anger’s still there. “I mean, he’s seventeen, honey…” At least dad understands me, “He’s going to learn how to live life by making mistakes, you got to let him make them.” “You’re seriously going to take his side right now?!” The volume raises again. “Mom! This has nothing to do with taking sides! If you didn’t breathe on my neck like you always do, you would know how amazing the band is doing and that I have an amazing girlfriend! But all you care about is controlling my life!” I freeze when I realize what I’d just yelled at my mother. “Just let me live!” “You’re seventeen, Charlie! You don’t know what you’re doing with your life!” At least she’s not reacting to my girlfriend-news I’d just blurted out to them. If she ever talks shit about Emily, I swear to God, it won’t be their finest day. “No, I don’t! But that’s normal, okay?! I want to figure out life by myself, with my band, with my girlfriend. So, stay out of it!” I push past her and dad, grab my backpack and leave the house again, cycling to Jeremy’s garage again. I know I’m always welcome to crash there after a fight with my parents. Owen and Jeremy are both still in the garage, cleaning up, chatting. When they see me, their grinning faces fade into worried glances. They already know what’s going on. I drop my backpack on the floor and plop down next to Owen onto the couch. “You okay, man?” Owen asks. “Yeah, just my parents being controlling again, you know?” He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Jere, do you mind me crashing here tonight?” “You can stay as long as you want,” he replies with a smile. “Thanks, man.” “I’m staying the night too,” Owen tells me, “Parents still aren’t talking to me.” “How long since you came out to them?” I can feel my heart breaking at the thought of Owen just being himself and completely being obliterated by his parents, the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally. “About a year…” Heart shattered. “At least I still got Luka.” I smile as I think about Owen’s sister. In 6th grade, she used to babysit us, even though we thought we were old enough to stay home alone. But Luka actually was the best babysitter ever. And I can’t deny I had a little crush on her at one point. It did blow over when she ditched us one time to go on a date. Besides being the greatest babysitter ever, she’s also been a great sport in Owen’s coming out. She was the first one he told besides us. Not only that, she’s also the biggest Sunset Curve fan. “How is Luka?” I ask, which earns me a sharp glare from Owen. “I’m just curious.” “She’s navigating college, so home isn’t where I want to be at the moment.” “Right, must be tough for her too,” Jeremy chimes in. “Yeah, must be tough having your parents worry about your every move.” I note the sarcasm in his voice and offer him a sympathetic smile, hoping that’ll help somewhat. I also feel slightly attacked by his comment. “Hey, at least we’ve got each other,” I tell him, patting his shoulder.   “And us is all we need,” Owen agrees with a small smile shining through. “And Emily!” Jeremy’s mention of Emily simply makes me smile again. Even the mention of her name makes me smile. I guess that does show how whipped I am for this girl. I wish I could tell her though. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Both Owen and Jeremy nod their heads, agreeing with me. “You’re so in love with her, bro,” Owen says. “Have you taken her on a date yet?” Jeremy wants to know. “No, not really. Unless you count sorting invoices at the Music Store or secret make-out sessions on her balcony?” They now shake their heads in response. “Why don’t you take her out on a date? Cute little picknick? Movie?” Owen suggests. “Yeah, if you want, you can take her here, we’ll set up like a projector and a screen, decorate with Christmas lights, and buy some food.” I stare at Jeremy for a little longer than I’d like. Did that really come out of his mouth? That’s a decent idea for once. “I don’t know if she likes romantic gestures like that though?” I manage to bring out once I’ve recomposed myself. “What girl wouldn’t like watching a movie on a big screen with her boyfriend, eating food, surrounded by pretty lights?” Owen reasons. That’s a good point. “Will you guys help me set up though?” They nod in response, and we get to work straight away. Jeremy goes inside to grab the projector and a large white sheet we hang up in the garage while Owen and I go on the hunt for the Christmas lights. According to Jeremy, we’d find in the attic. “Have you told Emily about us yet?” Owen asks me when we’re in the attic by ourselves, searching for the box with the decorations. I look up at him for a second before turning to a cardboard box to my right. “Uhm, no… I’m not sure how to tell her I used to date my bandmate?” “Emily’s cool, man. Her favorite uncle was gay and now she lives with his husband and they both know I’m gay, but she never treated me any differently.” “Yeah, but isn’t there a difference between being friends with a gay person and dating a pansexual person?” Owen shrugs whilst fishing a bundle of fairy lights out of a box. “It’s both very queer. I’m sure she’d be cool with it.” “I’ll see what subjects we’ll talk about tomorrow. Might tell her if it comes up.” “Good call, man.” I take a few more bundles of string lights and join Owen downstairs. While Jeremy hangs the white sheet and installs the projector, Owen and I decorate the place with all the Christmas lights we found. Warm whites, cold whites, and colorful ones. It serves for a fairytale looking glow throughout the entire garage. “Why didn’t we do this earlier?” I ask, admiring our work. “It really does give it a more calming atmosphere, doesn’t it?” Jeremy agrees. “Okay, I set up the projector, you just got to plug in a laptop and you’re good to stream your favorite or most romantic movies.” I pat him on the back, offering him a thankful smile. “Thanks, Jere. This was an amazing idea.” “Emily’s going to love it,” says Owen whilst looking up at the lights surrounding us. “Let’s go to sleep now and after school tomorrow, we’ll go shopping for food and set it all up for both of you to enjoy.” Jeremy’s almost giddy with excitement. It really is adorable. Jeremy hands Owen and I a sleeping bag and takes one for himself too. The three of us are used to sleeping on the floor of the garage. Many nights were spent like this ever since Middle School whether it was for sleepovers or when either Owen or I had problems at home. Jeremy often asked us to come over if he’d had a bad day too. Just fun little sleepovers between three best buddies. And they really are the best.

“Won’t be at the Music Store tonight. Find me at Jeremy’s garage to find out why. Wear something comfortable x” I send Emily the text after school just before the boys and I go grocery shopping in Jeremy’s fridge. He did ask his mom to buy a few extra snacks and things, saying it was for rehearsals. I’m glad he didn’t tell her about Emily and me yet. “Okay, we’re all done here!” Jeremy exclaims excitedly, looking at the finished product. My heart is beating faster and faster, scared Emily won’t like it, scared she doesn’t feel the same. “Hey, guys!” Emily’s voice startles me, and all three of us turn around to see her enter the garage. “What’s going o—” she freezes in place, noticing the fairy lights and the big screen. “Wha—” She looks adorable with her eyes bulging out and her mouth agape. I’m frozen for a moment. My feet don’t want to move even when I tell them to. “Charlie said you guys never had a proper date,” Owen springs into action, stepping forward and taking Emily’s hand, “So, we kind of put something together for you guys.” He leads her towards me. I doubt she’s even listening to what Owen’s saying as she’s still gazing around in surprise. “Hope you guys enjoy!” The two dip out of the garage, leaving Emily and me by ourselves. I let her take in the sight for a moment before grabbing her hand and leading her towards the mountain of pillows and blankets. “Charlie…” she breathes out, “This is beautiful.” She sits down while I go to the laptop to pick out a movie, settling on Aladdin since she made a comment about it the other day. I then hand her a glass of orange juice and place the snack platter between us whilst sitting down. “I wanted to do something special for you,” I tell her and clink my glass against hers. “Do you like it?” She nods her head vigorously. “I love it!” She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Who’s idea was it to do the cinema and the fairy lights?” “Surprisingly, Jeremy’s,” Emily’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah, I was shocked too.” “Such a surprising guy, that one.” I nod in agreement. “Let’s watch the movie, shall we?” Emily nods her head and we settle into the cushions. At first, we just sit shoulder to shoulder until she starts fidgeting. “Not comfortable yet?” “I can’t find the right way,” she chuckles, crossing her legs. “Come here,” I open one arm as I lean into the cushions behind me. Her cheeks flush pink as she leans in and rests her head on my shoulder. “Better?” I drop my arm around her shoulders, pressing her closer to me. “Much better,” she mumbles. I’m pretty sure she can hear my heart beating quicker, especially when she puts her arm across my stomach. “Can I confess something?” she asks around halfway into the movie. I look down at her, finding her staring at me, and nod. “I totally watched Aladdin with Uncle Mitch yesterday because it reminded me of you.” I can’t help the smile on my face at how endearing she sounds right now. “I picked it for today because it reminded me of you too.” Emily chuckles slightly and sits up straight to take another sip of her orange juice. “You want to watch something else?” She shakes her head. “Let’s just talk for a while?” I agree, but I can’t help to feel nervous. “I feel like I don’t know that much about you yet, but I somehow feel like I’ve known you for years, you know?” “Yeah, I totally feel the same,” I confess, “Don’t people play that Twenty-Questions game on the first date?” She takes a piece of cheese and pops it into her mouth. “Yeah,” she says after swallowing, “That’s a good idea! I’ll start!” She presses her lips together and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly thinking of a good question to ask. “A simple one; what’s your favorite color?” The color of your eyes. “Uhm… blue, I think? Yours?” “Yellow! It’s a happy color,” she gives me the cutest smile I ever did see. “Your turn!” “Uhm… Do you have siblings?” “Nope, only child over here.” I raise my hand for a high five, saying, “Same, girl!” and she slaps her hand one mine excitedly. “What’s one secret you’re still keeping from your mom?” Her question stumps me. Not that I don’t know the answer, because I do. The nerves just suddenly settle in. She’ll be cool. “That I dated Owen for about a month last year and that I’m pansexual.” Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Pansexual is the attraction to people regardless of their gender, right? Just so I got it right.” “Yes, exactly,” I gaze at her, awaiting her response of running out of the garage and never coming back, but she stays put. “How was it dating Owen?” She asks instead. “Not great. I mean, Owen was a great guy and we had good moments together, his parents just… never really accepted his sexuality. They still don’t, so being with him was a little rough. We broke up because we realized it didn’t really fit, I guess? With his parents and the band and stuff…” “How did you start dating?” Our game of twenty questions has become a little one sided and about one topic in particular. “He’d just told his parents and they got into a fight, so he came here. Jeremy wasn’t here yet, but I was since I’d run away from my parents too after a fight. He had a panic attack, so to stop him from panicking, I kind of kissed him?” She smiles an endearing smile. “But it’s my turn to ask a question now!” “Right, sorry!” “If you ever got trapped on a deserted island with one friend, who would you choose?” I ask, hoping to be rid of all the questions about me and Owen. Though I love the fact she didn’t up and run. She stuck around and is actually interested to know more about my past relationships and my sexuality. She would only ask if interested. “Madi, probably. I—” she cuts herself off, her eyes widening as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh my God. Oh. My. God!” She scurries off the ground and grabs her backpack quickly. “Madi asked me to hang out tonight after my shift and I told her it was okay since we didn’t plan any band practices! I totally forgot! She’s going to kill me!” She fishes her phone out of her backpack and quickly types in a message while I get up from my spot. “I’m so sorry, Charlie!” She gives me an apologetic look. “It’s okay! We’ll do this over one day. Go to Madi!” A relieved smile cracks through right before she grabs my face and kisses me on the lips. Just a quick, passionate peck, and off she goes, leaving me a little woozy from the electricity that just zipped from her lips to mine and through my entire body. An amazing girl, that one.

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[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/Background Goblet of Fire

What kind of creepy graveyard is this? Skeletons crawling over one another? Snake hidey-holes? Is this Nagini speaking or can she hear Voldemort from that far away? This just shows how fast she is as she moves along the ground here. Literally, we have here the Angel of Death equipped with wings and a scythe, which normally the Grim Reaper carries.

One light on in the caretaker’s house which is right next to the family graveyard? We are assuming that this is the Riddle estate, correct? Wealthy families like that would have had a family graveyard near their home. Also, that house in the background, Riddle Manor? Is super big and though it is dark looks grandiose.

The house here, looks well lived in, but at the same time, almost like it has only recently been inhabited. This is a kitchen, but it looks like there is a shovel on the wall, and only one light?

Still, only one light on in the main Riddle house. Wormtail can’t even draw a curtain? Dang.

Those are some old fashioned keys. I understand that this is a Manor or whatever, but this takes place during the nineties? No one thought to update the locks on this place? Frank mentions, “Those kids”, like people breaking in has been a real problem. Why not update the security? Also, who has been paying for the upkeep of this place? Lucius? Some secret Dark Lord Corporation? Is that why they are old school? Because we all know that wizards like to keep everything super, super, super old school?

Seriously, who is keeping up this place? The topiary is amazing!!

He looks like he is walking up a sort of backdoor entrance or servant’s entrance.

He is the caretaker for the grounds, but can’t dust a little? That clock needs a good one.

The light wasn’t muted because no one was casting a lumos, they were simply using a lamp that had the fabric bits removed that dampen the light.

The way that Barty is smiling when Nagini perches herself on Voldemort’s chair is fucking terrifying.

Ron’s room really is all orange. Such a fanboy.

The Burrow is in such a great spot. The little pond in front, the trees, the openness. The house itself is incredible. Still, only one light on. Whose? You can see the group walking away. That has to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Or Ron forgot to turn off the light, again.

They are all having to run to keep up with Mr. Weasley because he gets his cardio, bitch.

Mr. Weasley is rocking that straw cabana hat because he knows Muggles son!

Such a beautiful shot!

Did they travel through a worm hole here? I know the director or whoever had to make a creative choice in how this was going to be portrayed, but…. Idk.

Everyone is flying around, the arena is clearly segregated into Ireland’s colors or Green, Red, and Yellow, perhaps hinting at the final score of the match? Nice job, filmmakers.

What is this guy juggling? It looks like toy merecreatures almost.

Orange is the Weasley families favorite color. They’re just owning it at this point.

The pitch looks like it is in the inside of a volcano or a mountain.

Some people have seats right on the grass of the pitch? So, if the Weasle’s have bad seats at the very top what would the very lowest seats be classified as?

Who knew that a job qualification for Professional Qudditich players is the ability to adequately throw and spark fireworks?

Krum is a showoff.

Those are omnoculars? What Ron has to his face?

The way that they were all packed in together, it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t burn down with all the incendios they were throwing around.

They are all wizards, underage or not, and this is a life threatening situation, and yet, no one is firing back at the Death Eaters?

Okay, so everything did get torched to the ground. None of these tents had some fire retardant?

That amount of spells coming at the trio.

That style of hat that Crouch is wearing has got to be some ministry trend. Wait until they all hit the trucker hats in the 2000’s.

That Dark Mark is really cool.

I love her hat though. It looks like something that would have been worn to the royal wedding.

Seeing the train is always stunning.

I love the collection of sweets here. Colorful, to attract the youngins.

This is a really colorful movie. The third one was very muted while still being stunning. This and the next one experience with splashes of color that are just beautiful.

They are passing a big lake in the background there. Out of the window just looks wild and remote.

He addresses it clearly to Sirius Black. Is that a qualification for the owls to know where they letter needs to go or do they just have to have been there before? I need to know the specifics of owl travel.

You get to see the whole scope of how large not only Hogwarts is ,but the grounds, and I love that.

You see Neville in this first sequence as they are watching the other schools arrive as well as Fred, George, Ginny, Colin, Harry, and Hermione. Angelina Johnson is in the background behind the twins.

The sails on the Durmstrang ship looks like it is decorated with a two headed dragon. Is that the symbol for Durmstrang?

So while Dumbledore is chatting, Hagrid and Flitwick are behind him chit chatting.

There are two levels to the head table in this movie. The main folk are sitting at the higher table. Snape is leaning against the wall, not directly related to them at all. I bet he hated first days at the school.

Snape is one hundred percent mimicking Dumbledore’s speech for a hysterical Flitwick in the background.

The bald guy behind Dumbledore looks asleep, straight up.

Are butterflies the symbol for Beauxbatons? That would be very interesting. A creature that transforms completely into something else.

Hermione and Ginny are the only two who know what’s up in this shot.

Dumbledore was giving Madame Maxime eyes.

Filch is just standing dead in the middle of the Durmstrang wizards.

He is still standing there when Krum and Karkaroff walk in.

The kids so promptly follow Dumbledore’s instructions even though some of them are probably embarrassed about having to sing the school song.

But not Harry James Potter. He is living for this song.

Again we get so many shots of the school in this movie.

You can see the house point containers behind Dumbledore’s head.

You can see them again after the goblet is revealed.

Is that a tower of marshmallows?

OMgosh! The sky acted up when Crouch Jr came in because Hogwarts knew that he wasn’t who he said he was!!!!

The cup is so primitive looking compared to the container that is in.

It almost looks like each layer was created by a different faction of the wizarding world as a whole. That could definitely be a fanfic.

The perspective starts on the Durmstrang ship which again features a dragon.

Cages, nets in the background of the DADA classroom.

There is also a lot of glass and mirrors in the room which almost makes me think of a fun house where you don’t look like yourself in any of the mirrors which is super fitting for Crouch Jr. at this phase.

Why does Hermione look so suspicious already?

And what is the use of all the bugs, Crouch Jr. you sick mother f-er.

Who needs fifty overflowing worms in a jar?

Dean Thomas is straight up rocking a composition notebook from Walmart on that desk. He is representing Muggle culture at its finest.

Crabbe is wearing a ring. Is that his heir ring? That would be interesting as we see the younger generation start to really get pulled into the war in this film.

The portrait on the stain glass crying. We have all seen this, and appreciate the majesty.

We love a rain soaked Robert Pattinson.

Everyone is just watching the battle between the twins and Hermione.

There is no other light in the Great hall except for the Goblet? Dumbledore does love his aesthetic.

Snape is like, get me out of here.

And that display of power is why all of them dang kids sing that dorky song.

Who is Cedric kissing here as he goes up to the head table?

The cup is like the opposite of the Goblet of Fire. It is shiny and bright and new while the goblet is ancient looking.

You can see Harry’s scar quite prevalently in this shot.

The Hogwarts trophy room. I have never connected this before. It is huge.

Karkaroff has gold fillings.

What are the spinning trophies and where can I get one?

One light on in the top part of the castle.

Pensieve memories are blue, and the Goblet’s fire is blue. Coincidence? Fic writers, you tell me.

The suns on the curtains in the boy’s dorm is a nice touch.

Ron has a homemade quilt. I bet he gets those for birthday gifts instead of the infamous Christmas sweater. Molly Weasley is a boss.

What are all of these trophies for? I bet Dumbledore keeps all the ones that the various clubs and groups have won over the years.

Magical cleaner?

The scope of Hogwarts is amazing.

The owlery is literally covered in bird shit, like every inch. Dumbledore clearly instructs Filch not to clean it to deter frisky students.

Is that a cat on the stairs there?

I can’t ever decide if the Common Room looks too big or too small, here.

Harry talks about Voldemort so casually. But I guess if someone tried to kill me year after year we would form a sort of familiarity.

Those cabinets in the back are filled with board games. Bet me. Gryffindors are notoriously bloody, and game night, gets wild.

I bet Neville spends a lot of his time in the lake just researching and studying all of the different plant life.

Neville cares not at all for the drama behind him. He’s just like, “Give me the plants”.

I love that bright orange flower. Hagrid ain’t no fool. He knows how to get the ladies.

The mist in the background could almost be taken as fog, but then you think about the dragon’s and it literally could be smoke.

Hagrid representing all of the men who are shorter than their women.

There looks to be about six dragon handlers here.

They are carrying branches or their wands lit with fire at the end. Is that to confuse the dragons? Make them think that they already covered that area in their territory and are thus safe?

The handler on top gets bucked off the cage. He is done with this job.

I’m sorry, but those badges are ingenious. Do we know in the movie that Draco is the one that made them or is that fanon?

Those Hufflepuffs are nasty.

The sculpture that is seen in that scene in the courtyard looks like the same one that is present in Half Blood Prince. Do they also move around the castle at will?

Harry pushed Draco, and that guy in the back is like, “Yes, let’s have a fight.” Then he and the other guy straight up bounce when Moody pops on the scene. But Goyle is ride or die. Or maybe they ran and got McGonagall because she came really quickly???? Hmmm??

The walls are all green and lightly moss covered. Gorgeous.

Like, is there a legit list of all the things that teachers cannot do. 1. We do not use Transfiguration as a punishment. 2. Trying to main or kill students is expressively forbidden. 3. Flashy robes are allowed and encouraged. Share in the glorious pattern of life.

Crouch Jr. should have been shitting his pants at being at the end of McGonagall’s wand.

Again with all the mirrors. So, Crouch Jr. can make sure that his transformation isn’t slipping?

What are the faces in the mirror here?  

All the clues were there, and I didn’t see a single one. This movie and book is a masterpiece of plot. Plain and simple.

McGonagall was like, “Let’s not have the arena with the dragons so close to the castle, eh, Albus?”

There is a bed for each of the champions in this tent. Could no one transfigure a couch?

They have punch and muffins in the background. “Lime punch before you fight a dragon?” “Sure.”

I never noticed that blue in Madame Mazime’s hair. I love the school spirit that she is showing here. Dumbledore seriously thought of mimicking her. He would look bomb with a tie die beard. Convince me otherwise.

Filch is featured spectacularly in this movie.

The trunk at the bottom has a red cross on it, making this very likely an emergency tent that just so happens to double as the waiting area for the champions.

Colin made that sign for Harry.

I feel like that chain, oh, I don’t know, could have been magically reinforced or something.

How does his glasses stay on? I bend over, and mine are on the floor.

Even Draco here is like, “Come on, bro.”

Snape knew he should have stayed in bed.

So, does the waterfall seen here does that fall into Hogwart’s grounds as well because that would be awesome for field trips. My love for this ancient, magical castle in the middle of nowhere is unmatched.

Where was Seamus during that challenge? I did not see him.

The picture of the woman in the far left is very striking.

The Black Lake is a huge expanse. I always think of it as kind of small, but it is massive in this movie.

The pastries in the back are floating along the table. So cool.

Mrs. Norris just chilling, waiting to see these pitiful humans embarrass themselves.

Why can’t they have healed Harry? I understand the look, but dang, people continuity.

Neville has got them shiny dancing shoes. Augusta was very pleased when Neville asked her to buy them for him.

Hermione is a queen, and she knows it.

There is that semi circle of stone again from the third film. Hmmm….

Ginny’s friends are coming in with the support. Love a squad.

There was fruit on that table. I always wondered if they got snacks and what not during the daytime, between meals.

What was the need of carriages if the ball was held at the school?

Ron waited until last minute to even try on those robes or he definitely could have worked something out.

Owl sculptures are supporting the fires here.

Krum is dumbstruck by our girl.

Somehow she loses Krum to argue with Ron.

Is that couple making out at the table?

People are dancing in the hallway?

A gaggle of girls are crying on the stairs. Every middle school dance ever.

I’m telling you, whoever designed this cemetery had a very messed up imagination.

Neville stays out all night long. It is morning coming through that window. You dog, you.

Half of the allure of going to Hogwarts is to get to become a prefect and use that bath. Let’s be honest.

Crouch Jr. hates his life right now.

All of those books are like represent my best life.

Half of those students are like, “Yeah, no, you took all my money last time.” Because let’s be real, no one bet on Harry, and Fred and George scored big time.

Those top tiered placed have got to be enlarged with wizard’s space because they are quite small, and the whole school plus the two others are expected to attend each trial? Yeah, not big enough it seems.

Harry is a show off.

Seamus is wearing Hogwarts merch. Like where did he get that? A catalog? Gift shop in Hogsmeade?

You can see the merpeople’s ancient village here, or hints of it. Archways, etc.

Fleur looks legit worried here. Like Harry was right to not trust Dumbledore to ensure their safety when he can’t even tell Fleur who is out of the competition by this point that her sister is going to be okay.

Why are Fred, George, and Ginny right next to Malfoy and Co. for this shot, shouldn’t they be at odds? Or was that the best spot and neither were giving it up?  Or plain movie making reasons?

Harry is wearing a wand holster on his leg. Fanfiction writers catch all the details.

Seamus is like, “I am Harry’s hype man. I will keep him from getting hypothermia.”

Why did Hermione turn French here for that line?

Rescue….. that’s a strong word here, Dumbles.

Crouch Sr. is such an interesting character. He knows what it is like to lose a family, and he has his guard up because of that. Their story and their family is so interesting to me for some reason.

I think that’s the closest that Crouch Jr. gets to breaking character.

If you were born in the nineties you had at least one of those jackets that Hermione is wearing here, and if you had more, you had them in several colors.

Who bewitched Mad-eye’s eye? It is a very powerful magical object in its own right, right?

Please see my post about Sirius and Azkaban.

As soon as Snape is mentioned Crouch puts his head in his hands because he knows Dumbledore is going to have to have a say.

Dumbledore is looking so closely at the details that he misses the bigger picture in Harry’s dreams and Moody’s actions.

It’s so weird that Snape has a storage area for ingredients near Dumbledore’s office. I bet that Snape has several storage areas spread throughout the castle.

Snape could have just looked inside Harry’s mind, and be done with it, but no….because plot.

Neville is carrying yet another plant behind the trio here.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are so carefree here that you almost forget that the happiness of youth that they have at Hogwarts is about to go extinct just like Harry and his friends. All of the kids in this story face a sharp change in perspective after this book.

I like that Harry has fake Moody, Krum has Karkaroff, Fleur has Madame Maxime, but Cedric has his dad because he gets to say goodbye to him.

The maze is just a massive headgame.

Do you think the reason that Fleur ultimately becomes close enough to Krum to ask him to her wedding is because Krum sought her out and made serious recompense for him being imperioused while in the maze?

They are just resorting to brute strength there at the end. The maze making them forget that they are capable wizards. A jelly legs jinx probably would have had much the same effect.

Angel statues I get, but this big dementor, grim looking thing holding the bones of Voldemort’s father. I just don’t get it.

Cedric gave Peter a chance to speak or stop, but Peter again took the cowards way out, and blasted Cedric before he really had a chance to fight back. What a punk bitch.

I’m glad that you are forced to choke your own self Peter because you deserve it.

Voldemort’s transformation here is both stunning and horrible.

The Death Eaters come out of the Dark Mark’s mouth.

Their masks here are different then the ones used earlier in the morning.

Voldemort is snatching their weaves here, and I love it. Stupid klan robe wearing wizard Nazis.

Voldemort puts his foot on Cedric’s face. Like, son, you need to pay for that privilege.

A lot of the Death Eaters here look like they have like staffs. I don’t understand.

A Death Eater in the background is litearlly clapping when Voldemort makes Harry bow, like get a hold of yourself, Hershel.

The statue, again, in the background presents such a striking image as the two duel.

The spell that Crouch Jr. urged Harry to learn is the one that saved Harry.

Harry just wanting to physically protect Cedric’s body with his own. Just heartbreaking.

I’ll never not sob when I hear Amos Diggory sob, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

Fred and George look to follow Crouch Jr. and Harry out. Do they tip off the professors?

Doesn’t Crouch know what it is like to stand in Voldemort’s presence? He was just babysitting the man, I mean, dang. Fangirling is one thing, but you have business to handle.

Don’t insult my Neville. I will throw down.

The mirrors are gone at this point. It looks like Crouch has almost packed up because he knows that he will no longer be needed.

Not his blood, ahhhhh!!!!!

Snape puts such flourish into his casting. That scene at the carriages earlier in this film. He looks like he is rearing back away from Karkaroff, but he is merely preparing to cast one fanciful, flourish of a hex on the man.

Just stick your face in the crazy Death Eater’s face, Harry. Great thinking. No wonder Snape doesn’t hold your intelligence in high regard.

We don’t get one look at Professor Sprout. This boy’s Head of House?

Look at all that magical cooperation, and yet, none of this was used in book seven, or any book after except for mentioning Fleur married Bill, and Harry learned a little tidbit about the Deathly Hallows symbol from Krum.

I love this film. It is stunning, and truly made me a diehard HP fan. I don’t think I will ever really tire of it.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: The Shining Beacon Part 2

I miss RWBY. Specifically, I miss early RWBY when there was less drama (not really but let me pretend), so let’s head on back to Volume 1.

In our opening scene of Episode 3, Ruby and Jaune have managed to find the hall where the rest of the newbies are meeting and honestly? I’m super proud of them for it. These are the two fools who will later argue over who had the map while wandering around the wilds of Remnant. Baby leaders managing to find the rest of their flock? Great job. Well done. Mama’s proud.

This little time skip raises some questions though. Did they ever find the Beacon cafeteria? What else did they chat about the rest of the day? Yang makes it sound like they’ve been gone a number of hours and I for one would love to know what awkward Ruby and even-more-awkward Jaune got up to during that time.

Tis the realm of fics though, not canon. Instead we get another shot of RWBY’s infamous shadow people with Yang standing out like the goddamn sun.

Who could the main character possibly be??

Beats me. What a gosh darn difficult question.

Yang: Ruby! I saved you a spot.

Are... are there spots, Yang? You’re all standing in a giant auditorium. If Ruby comes to stand beside you is another student gonna throw a fit about it? I mean real talk, I went to watch the changing of the guard while spending a month in London and let me tell you, there were people who guarded their spots like a pissed off bird guarding her eggs. (For the record you couldn’t even see anything. This was just human prickliness at its finest). So who knows, maybe Yang knows precisely what she’s doing.

Ruby abandons Jaune to join her, which on the one hand is kinda mean—you can’t invite your new friend to stand around with you?—but Ruby does say she’ll “see [him] after the ceremony,” so that’s nice and all. I know my anxious ass would have been thrilled to hear someone making future plans like that, even if it’s mostly just a nicety. Making new friends is hard.

Of course, Jaune doesn’t make that job any easier on himself. I’ve written before about his Nice Guy tendencies in the early volumes and they come back in full force here. He bemoans Ruby’s leave, asking himself where he’ll find “another nice, quirky girl to talk to?” It’s an easy introduction for Pyrrha, revealing her behind Jaune and quite obviously setting her up as that “nice, quirky” girl who he’ll become closest to as the episodes progress, but jeez, Manic Pixy Girl assumptions abound. Especially given the fact that Jaune/Pyrrha became canon in Volume 3. Obviously Pyrrha will be written with great depth as RWBY continues, but it does rankle a bit to have her introduced as a Ruby stand-in, someone positioned as a way of fulfilling Jaune’s ridiculous “needs.” I’m glad this is undermined later when she takes initiative towards him, i.e. saving him during initiation and angling to be his partner. Her interest is clear even if at that point Jaune will take anyone pretty: Ruby, Weiss, Pyrrha herself.

But I digress.

Ruby gives her whole spiel about meeting Weiss and Yang’s response is, “Yikes. Meltdown already?” heavily implying that she expected Ruby to have a “meltdown” at this school, just not so soon. Which—iffy terminology aside—isn’t at all surprising. RWBY does an excellent job of setting up Ruby’s nerves, from her “bee’s knees” comment to her eagerness in showing Weiss exactly what she’s capable of. The girl is desperate for validation—as is the whole RWBYJNPR gang, in their own ways—and a lot of that comes out as anxious, social awkwardness. If Ruby was at all inclined towards “meltdowns” at Signal then I’d say she did a damn good job holding herself together through everything that happened at Beacon. Granted, being put in a position of power will help with that, at least on a surface level. To semi-quote Oz, how can you expect others to put forth their best if you’re not constantly doing the same? Ruby has the veneer of self-control down now because she had to for her team... which makes me anticipate her inevitable breaking point all the more. We saw in Volume Six how close Ruby got to dropping her ‘I’m an endlessly put together leader’ persona with Qrow drinking himself to oblivion, but she never quite got there. I’m waiting (hoping really) that Ruby’s long-established anxiety will finally be addressed, what with Yang having made good headway in that department and all the shit they’ve gone through adding up to a very justified breakdown.

Let the poor girl really falter for once and let the rest of the group grapple with that. Everyone deserves it.

I’m jumping six volumes ahead though. Here and now Ruby is still telling Yang all about her horrible encounter, segueing into how she “just wanted her to stop yelling” which of course is the perfect moment for Weiss to sneak up behind her with a loud “YOU!” (Jaune’s comment linking to Pyrrha; Ruby’s comment linking to Weiss—RT enjoys writing these little bridges, particularly for introducing new characters).

I love this moment simply for how much it tells us about Weiss. Largely in retrospect. Because while her trailer song is definitely on the nose in some respects—“I’m the loneliest of all”—it’s not until later on that we realize exactly how abusive Weiss’ family is and how isolated she’s been for the whole of her upbringing. This girl has absolutely no experience interacting with people outside of the Schnee/everyone else hierarchy (note in a moment how she assumes that Ruby will want to “make it up to [her]”) so if you’re suddenly surrounded by people for the first time who aren’t fawning over your name and money and dust connections... what do you? How do you get some vaguely positive attention? Oh okay, guess I’ll force it! Here Weiss is claiming that she never wants Ruby to speak to her again, but she’s the one who barged in on their conversation and loudly drawing attention to herself. Weiss is starved for healthy validation while simultaneously stuck in the behavior she’s been taught: asking for attention solely by trying to show off— here’s a rambling summary of the Schnee Dust Company’s disclaimer look at what a good puppet I am—or by insulting others. Weiss mocks Ruby’s genuine offer to buy school supplies together but then doesn’t move away from her and Yang once the announcements start. She doesn’t know how to say ‘yes’ to any offers of friendship, but she also doesn’t want to say ‘no.’

Interestingly, that moment also tells us a fair bit about Ruby. Not just by re-emphasizing how kind she is by extending the offer to start this relationship over, but also adding weight to the headcanon that Ruby is neurodivergent. Weiss’ heavy sarcasm about how they can “go shopping, paint our nails, and talk about cute boys” goes right over Ruby’s head. She responds with a “Wow! Really?” similar to the “...can you?” heard right before she attacks the Nevermore during initiation. Ruby has a history of not just being awkward but missing a lot of ‘normal’ social cues as well.

The girls’ bonding is interrupted when Ozpin begins his speech and boy oh boy do I love this moment too. Anyone who reads my metas knows that I’m a firm defender of our disaster headmaster, especially after volume 6, and looking back this scene is the PERFECT example of how RT tries to make Ozpin seem shady... while really failing to accomplish that. Obscuring eyes/the whole face is a super easy way to tell the viewer that this is an Untrustworthy Character. See: every horror movie where the villain’s face is obscured by shadows, our own dear Adam who keeps his face hidden with a mask, etc. It serves to dehumanize the character, keeping us from seeing some of the most expressive parts of their bodies, and equates one thing they’re hiding—such as a deformity. Yay ableism! /s—with other things they’re keeping from the heroes; secrets, sinister intentions, and the like. The primary exception to this are characters who wear masks for defined and morally acceptable reasons. i.e. superheroes who need to keep their secret identities intact and, notably, aren’t withholding that information from the viewer. We as the audience usually know who they are and thus aren’t inclined to distrust the character based on secret-keeping.

Awesome superpowers aside, Ozpin doesn’t fit within the mold of superhero, so all of this reads as pretty damning:

Like holy shit, friends. With the exception of one moment, 

notably when Ozpin informs them that “knowledge will only carry you so far,” the cinematography goes out of its way to hide his eyes, if not his entire face. Oz comes across as super shady here, compounded by the close up and centered shot of Ruby’s silver eyes to contrast. Compounded further by the exchange Ruby and Yang have afterwards about how he seemed “kind of off”—an exchange that doesn’t precisely fit with in-world logic (how does Yang know what Ozpin is normally like?), but serves as a clear message to the viewer: Something is UP with this guy.

The problem? This isn’t Ozpin’s introduction.

Imagine a series where in Episode One we only hear about a powerful Beacon headmaster. Someone who bends the rules and let’s Ruby in two years early for reasons unknown. Then by Episode Three we see this guy almost insulting the new group of students (Yang’s eyes narrow when Ozpin says he sees only “wasted energy in need of purpose”) and the entire time the camera refuses to give us a good look at him. That would have set up a character who is legitimately creepy. Someone we know instinctively might not really be on our side.

Instead our introduction to Ozpin is this.

He’s smiling and charming and legitimately kind. He listens to why Ruby wants to come to Beacon before making his decision (aka establishing her agency here). He shares a fond “Aww, you know I’m gonna get what I want” look with Glynda. He brings cookies, for god’s sake. Ozpin’s supposed shadiness falls completely flat here because we’ve already developed positive feelings for him, notably while he was with our protagonist and his BFF headmistress. The intimacy in Episode One implies that this is the “real” Ozpin, whereas a formal speech in front of (from the audience’s perspective) a literally faceless mass sets this up as a “fake” Ozpin, one that comes out when he feels the needs to be stern with incoming students. Or, based on information we learn later, when he’s pulling from another personality.

All of which isn’t a criticism of RT’s writing. Rather, given what we now know definitively from Volume Six, I don’t think they were invested in making Ozpin into a legitimately shady character. What RWBY is invested in is poking at or outright dismantling a lot of tropes and conventions, which is essentially what they did here. “You EXPECT the secretive, powerful headmaster to be a morally gray kind of guy... so we’re just not even gonna go there. Not really.”

But back to the actual plot. Jaune ends the scene by sliding up and announcing that he’s a natural blonde, another excellent example of precisely the thing women aren’t looking for in a guy. He knows Ruby now so it’s totally cool for him to re-join her, but using that as an excuse to start talking about his looks? Nah. Remember folks, women generally like it when you treat them as more than just a romantic and/or sexual conquest!

But enough about Jaune. We cut to that night where all the newbie students—way more than we’ll actually see throughout the rest of the series—are crowded together in Beacon’s hall, which from a world building perspective is a really great choice. I love what it says about Beacon as an institution: We’re not giving you rooms yet because we believe that most of you will fail the initiation (or at least that’s the impression they want to give the students). There’s a sense of ‘roughing it’ with simple mats and no personal space, the sort of things they’d have to get used to if they’re out traveling as huntsmen later in life. The overall emphasis on community and team work. Like the teams of four, Beacon is invested in setting up situations where the students are forced to work with one another. Particularly with those they might otherwise avoid.

That’s precisely the sort of interaction we get in a moment, but first: a tangent. Okay. So in previous metas—mostly Volume Six stuff—I’ve gotten a lot of pushback for my use of the term “kids” to describe the RWBY gang. Which I get. Post-Beacon most of them are legally adults by our standards and they’re certainly doing Adult Things nowadays. I do think there’s a lot of interesting nuances here—the fact that our protagonist and arguably most significant character plot-wise (Oscar) are both still underage, asking whether Remnant even views age in the same way we do, whether hitting the magical age of 18 suddenly gives you any more insight or maturity than you had at 17 or 16, acknowledging that they were never meant to be out in the world fighting this war and making these decisions yet, so we shouldn’t conflate traumatic necessity with emotional growth—but for the most part fans don’t want to grapple with those sorts of questions. There’s a knee-jerk reaction (particularly from those who are around the group’s age) of, “Most of them are 18. They’re not kids so stop acting like they are.” RWBY has raised a lot of questions for me regarding how I balance “Kids/teens/young adults are people with agency and more maturity than people tend to give them credit for” with “I remember how much of a kid I still was at 18 and know precisely how much I’ve grown in the decade since. I was not an adult then, no matter what the law said.” It’s a matter of acknowledging generational experience without turning into one of those, “Bah! Kids don’t know what the hell they’re talking about” curmudgeons. I’m an adult with a father who dismisses everything I say because he’s got—and will always have—50+ years on me. I’m well aware that it sucks.

Why am I bringing all this up again? Because this scene is just so kid-ish. It’s wonderfully young and carefree! Ruby is writing a letter to her friends in cutesy grimm PJs. Yang slides over with a comment about how it’s just like a sleepover. They acknowledge that Tai would not be pleased with all the boys around while Yang ogles the shirtless guys and Jaune wanders around in a footed one piece. This entire scene has a distinctly middle school or early high-school vibe. Not that adults don’t hang out and chat in super comfy PJs—we totally do—but rather that viewers know how scenes like these are coded. They’re supposed to look young here and even though experience has most certainly aged them, even though about two years have passed since this moment... that’s still only two years. I have a difficult time accepting that we should now view the group’s decisions as irrevocably Adult and Mature (cough-airship-cough) when such a short time ago they weren’t either of these things. And they weren’t meant to be those things. Not yet. I wish that these later Volumes of RWBY were more interested in exploring the concept of (yes) kids forced into the role of adults, as opposed to trying desperately to pretend that they’re adults already with a more worthwhile voice than people with 10, 20, or in Ozpin’s case, a 1,000 years more experience than them.

Anyway. Enough ranting for one recap.

Ruby shares her fears about not making any friends and Yang has her “You’ve just made one friend and one enemy!” line before giving her little sis a legitimate pep-talk. She explains that there are friends all around Ruby, “you just haven’t met them yet.” A near identical perspective to what we heard from Jaune last episode. Which is hilarious given that ten seconds ago Yang was pseudo-insulting the guy.

Seriously though, how is there not more Jaune-Yang interaction in canon? They’re got so much more in common than just blonde hair and anger management issues.

Cue another segue. Right after Yang finishes talking about future friends Ruby catches a sound off screen and we get our first look at Blake since the courtyard.

Yang quite literally drags Ruby over and it is an excellent display of siblings being siblings.

Blake recognizes Ruby as “the girl who exploded” and honestly I’m sad that this didn’t become a moniker for her in the same way “vomit boy” did for Jaune. Nothing like being defined by your embarrassing moments and ridiculous habits to encourage true bonding! My BFF calls me Trout and I call her Hunter and no, I will not expand on the ridiculousness that was my middle school years.

I mean, Ruby starts to tell Blake that she can call her crater face before realizing that this might not be the best idea. The girl is awkward af and I love her.

Yang: What are you doing??

Ruby: I don’t know help me!

God they’re so fucking relatable.

Yang manages to get Blake’s name out of her and then makes the mistake of commenting on her bow. Granted, Blake doesn’t show any overt signs of discomfort here—that would have been too obvious even by RWBY’s standards—but looking back we can assume that any conversation veering towards the one thing she wants to hide wouldn’t exactly endear her to these girls. Blake gets pretty rude by saying that she’ll continue to enjoy her book just as soon as they leave. Yang gets ruder by announcing, right next to Blake, that she’s a “lost cause.”

The book is Ruby’s in though. Now it’s less small talk and more legit interest as she asks what Blake is reading. The fandom has acknowledge to death the “It’s about a man with two souls, fighting for control” line and how that obviously relates to the Ozpin-Oscar situation, but beyond that I’m interested in the fact that we never learn the title of this book. Normally that wouldn’t mean much (only so much world building you can do and book titles aren’t necessarily the sort of thing RT wants to waste time on), except that Ruby specifically asks for it and Blake delves straight into the summary. I wonder if perhaps this specific text will show up again in future volumes. I don’t have any real evidence for the hunch, just the fact that we now know Ozpin has put stories out into the world that relate to his situation, namely The Maidens fairy tale. I have to wonder if perhaps other lives of his created art as a way of coping with their situation—unknowingly truthful accounts that people like Blake read, oblivious to the ways that this fiction might be setting them up to be more empathetic towards the same situation in real life. It just stands out to me that we’re not given a title or author here; that Blake was one of the ones to learn about Ozpin’s immortality off screen (denying us her initial reaction); that comparatively she was one of the more sympathetic during that awful moment out in the snow. It would be awesome if the “lol Blake is a nerd who sometimes reads porn” aspect of her personality actually sets her up to be one of the more understanding people in Volume 7.

Basically, please give me super nerd Blake who starts warming back up to Ozpin because she finds out he’s authored a bunch of her favorite books lol. Or at the very least she realizes that she’s now living the stories she’s long adored; she’s been given the opportunity to extend real support to someone so very like the characters she’s felt for all these years...

RWBY does love its meta.

Ruby admits to loving books too, particularly the fantastical stories that Yang used to read her. Blake is far more pessimistic.

Blake: Hoping you’ll live happily ever after? 

Ruby: I’m hoping we all will.

Hello, conflict of the entire series. As well as many fans’ hope for how it will all turn out. I’m personally not at all interested in a 7+ year investment with this cast only to watch them end on a bleak, or even bittersweet note. Despite what some might claim nowadays, happy endings are far from overrated. Given the state of the world, happy endings are radical.

Blake tells Ruby that her dreams are “Very ambitious for a child,” one of the very few indicators we’ve gotten (along with Weiss’ “Aren’t you a little young to be here?”) that the rest of the students recognize on sight that Ruby is younger than them. I’ve literally never heard one child refer to another, same-age acquaintance as “child.” Especially not when they’re hinting strongly that they’re being naive.

Yang is SUPER proud of that optimism though and starts a tackle hug that leads to them fighting cartoon style, complete with stars, cat noises, and dust clouds. The racket of course brings Weiss over. And by “of course” I mean “Oh look, another excuse she can use to go talk to the only people she knows here.”

We get another handful of great lines—Ruby has known Weiss a day but she was “always on [her] side,” Weiss exclaims that Ruby is “a hazard to [her] health”—but the episode is basically over. Blake blows out her candles and that’s that.

Meanwhile, I can’t believe I just wrote nearly four thousand words on a six minute episode. I’m gonna go re-think my life choices.

Minor Things of Note

“You’re lucky we weren’t blown off the side of the cliff!” Hey there, episode four foreshadowing! Also, Weiss, you guys are nowhere near a cliff. You’re so dramatic.

You can really see the difference in their expressions when Oz gives his speech. Ruby and Yang looked pumped and joyous. Weiss is anxious and unsure.

Still super interested in Ozpin actually using his cane as he leaves the stage. Probably just a random animation choice before they worked out all his character kinks, but if we imagine that his host was currently speaking maybe that’s a quirk specific to him.

We never again hear about “the gang back at Signal” that Ruby is writing to. Just like we never see the friends Yang apparently entered Beacon with (and weren’t meant to given that they were also shadow people). Not that RWBY needs any more characters to keep track of, but from an in-world perspective it is a little strange that they were supposedly super close to all these people and then just... never mention them again lol. 

[the-truth-will-light-the-sky]

Road Trip with Prince Regis and His Crew

Prince Regis Lucis Caelum crosses the continent alongside his friends Cid Sophiar, Weskham Armaugh, Clarus Amicitia, the young but firecracker Cor Leonis and an unexpected guide. Who can shower in the rain? 

Long Headcanon post...again. 

The song playing in my mind each time I imagine Prince Regis and his friends cutting across the continent towards Accordo is “Blowing in The Wind” by Stevie Wonder (his version is so beautiful). Imagine the prince and his friends singing the lyrics to the songs they love, not minding if they’re out of tune or out of sync (that’s Cid).

Regis  

Regis is the fussiest among the rest of the crew. Not about mud or dust. It’s not that. The only thing he’d ever care about are his dirty clothes.

He’s used to presenting himself in the best image at all times, he’s used to keeping his look pristine and well-kept and so must his clothes.

Oh and hygiene. He’s fine with dirt. But no proper baths or showers? Expect the prince to be pouty until their next motel or caravan stop.

Gloves all day, every day. In the cold, in the heat, while sleeping, while eating --  Prince Regis doesn’t like dirt in between his fingernails. 

Aside from all these, Regis is a complete outdoors man. He can adapt to any situations and would always have the best solution to the weather.

Rain? He’s got an umbrella at his disposal. Too hot? He’s brought his sleeveless shirts (black and sleek, of course. He has to wear those for the photos because Aulea loves seeing him in those things). Too cold? He’s got the thickest and comfiest coat. Fashionable too, of course.

When it comes to food, despite being used to the finest cuisine Lucis and Insomnia has to offer, Regis can stomach just about anything.

He’s endured so many things even at a young age. Five star food can wait. At twenty, Regis doesn’t mind if he’s eating toast all day or beans. He can eat any vegetables that Weskham can find.

Regis brought most of his essentials with him. As mentioned, there’s his hygiene and shaving kit. He’s also brought his sewing kit to fix those loose buttons and yes his pants that is ripped in the middle, his medicine (he gets allergic to the outdoors sometimes; Cid calls him a princess), his favourite book, extra pairs of gloves (must hide that ring), flashlights, extra weapons just in case he loses yet another dagger, his favourite coffee brand and of course, and of course his phone card (gotta call his sweetheart Aulea).

Regis is a really bad driver — every one of them would scramble for the seat belts only to know there aren’t any. Instead, they’d hang on to their dear lives each time he’s behind the wheel.

Regis would drive and chat, much to everyone’s horror. Cid’s incessant cursing doesn’t help either, as it even encourages Regis to be animated with his expressions and uses his hands to tell his stories.

Regis is not the first to rise in the mornings, but he’s not the last either. He’s more of the middle.

He’s one of the last to sleep, though. He’s got a lot on his mind. 

And the complete darkness gives him the chills. He’s used to the comfort of Insomnia’s bright lights or his bedside lamp.

The Prince has the quickest reflexes and the sharpest hearing, too. So if anyone starts to fight their pillow in their sleep (it’s Cid), he’s the first to grab his heavy flashlight to brandish about as if all of Eos’ daemons are jam-packed in their already full tent.

Regis would give Cid a playful kick in the leg to rouse him from his sleep, much to no avail.

Being a proper prince and all, Regis is not an unruly tent mate. He keeps much to his own space and rarely snores.

Just don’t deprive him of his pillow and blanket. He’s used to comfort and his back hurts a lot if he doesn’t have any cushioning. Cid calls him a sissy, to which the Prince retorts that he won’t share his exquisite Lucian blanket when the temperature gets cold. 

He kept his word, of course. Cid immediately regretted the decision as the comforter reached up only until Weskham. He’d have to endure the surface and the cold. His favourite line of ‘Oh my achin’ back’ originated from this little event.

He’s the guy who wants the oil lamp to be set to dim at night inside the tent, not to be extinguished at all.

The Prince of Lucis does the dishes. Don’t let the sharp suit and neatly trimmed nails fool you. He’s built for hard work and he’s willing to do it all.

Just don’t make him put up the tent, if you don’t want it to look like a child’s make-believe fortress in the end.

Prince Regis can be a rebel out in the wild. He’s not a stranger to mischief despite his gentlemanly demeanour. Like every young man, he always likes to get away with some trouble making.

Regis prefers to use his weapons against daemons whenever they stayed too late out in the wilds. He would be inheriting the Ring of the Lucii but he prefers not to use it against the daemons.

He’s not afraid to fight them off. Although, he has a particular dislike of those Nagaranis and Necromancers. Gives him the shivers like the Frozen’s Glacian’s breath breathing down his neck.

The Prince, despite his wealth, is the stingiest of all the guys. He’d hold back until the last moment a.k.a. until the seller gives up and gives him half the price. Score!

Thinks he’s the coolest guy in Lucis whenever he drives his car. He’s a bit vain when he’s out on the road; he knows he looks too damn fine and sexy in his gloves as he drives out into the wild in his sleek and shiny Regalia.

Cid

The able mechanic has all his tools with him. It’s stored in the back of the Regalia, inside his pockets, even inside his jacket or his screwdriver tucked in his pants. Don’t ask where he keeps the screws.

Cid is the rowdiest of the group. And he never shuts up.

He does keep to himself sometimes, but if he’s in one of his moods, Cid will just keep on singing to his heart’s content.

He likes to take the wheel when on the road, but Regis says no.

Aside it from being his car, Regis knows that if Cid is behind the wheel, it means that the grumpy mechanic holds all reins to the car audio system.

It’s all country music or swampy music of course. Cowboy tunes are his favourite.

Not that the guys mind, of course. They’re not choosy. But it’s Cid’s incessant singing that bugs them.

He can’t even sing the songs right, almost always singing the lyrics late. When he realises this, he tries to quicken his singing to keep up with the song. It’s like listening to those tapes that you fast forward. It’s both funny and annoying at the same time.

Cor would never admit it, but he likes it whenever Cid starts singing. It gives him the best laughs in his ‘boring’ life.

In the whole crew, Cid is the most un-fussiest of them all when it comes to camping.

Beans for lunch? Great, tastes like caviar. No water for showering? He can shower in the rain. A snoring Clarus for the rest of the night? Why, music to his ears. A bratty Cor Leonis? Lemme handle this brat.

Cid loves camping. He’s ecstatic to be out in the wild. He’s not fond of the bright lights of Insomnia. He likes looking out into the wild lands each time he has the chance. And now he’s out here and there’s nothing that he could ever ask for. Oh, uh, except for peace of course. Peace needs to be won.

Cid, despite his hard demeanour, is a softie for the wild animals. The rest of the crew loves animals, of course, but the animals love Cid like he’s their daddy.

The mechanic can even tame a bloody sabertusk, petting its head while Clarus wrestles with one beside him, screaming as he does so.

Regis runs away from a pack of rogue Daggerquills while Cid has one perched on his shoulders like he’s freakin’ Snow White. He’s proud of it, of course.

‘They ain’t like the varmints folks call ‘em — they’re practically a softie!’ Cid says about a skarnbulette.

He even thinks a behemoth is an adorable little kitty. Clarus gives him the weird look reserved only for the looniest of people. Cid’s the second in that list of his, and that’s not a compliment.

Cid Sophiar puts up the tent. He’s the best tent maker around. The rest of them can screw it. Yup, his own words, not mine.

Cid is almost always awakened each time Regis rises from his sleep. The two best friends are inseparable despite their differences.

It is also universally known that if Regis catches the stomach flu, expect Cid to get the same predicament or something similar.

Cor Leonis gets on Cid Sophiar’s nerves. Not because the fifteen year old ‘stuck up’ is a hyper active teen because he’s not. It’s because he treats Cid with the utmost respect even if the older man tries to rile him up to get any kind of reaction from him aside from his usual stoic scowl.

Cid Sophiar always gets the ladies’ numbers if they’re ever stopping by civilisation. He’s a ladies’ man. Sorry, Weskham.

If only Cid’s incessant cursing and badmouthing can kill even the fiercest of daemons, Regis would be grateful. The mechanic slings out bad words like a freakin’ machine gun.

Weskham

This Keycatrich native is the calmest of the group.

Nothing ever freaks him out. Not even a rogue Behemoth screeching eerily close to their camps at night. Nope. Not even Cid’s stink eye nor Cor’s tantrums.

He’s the parent of the group. He’s the one who administers the medicines and the salves, the one who cooks, the one who is the first to rise from sleep.

He’s also got the longest patience. Cid can mumble his cowboy tunes like a broken vinyl record and Clarus can snore as loud as a behemoth until dawn and Regis can be all too fussy for not showering for two days and Cor can keep on babbling about the empire’s demise all day and night. Weskham doesn’t bat an eyelash. He’s chill.

But if anyone loses any of his pens or scratches his pans, expect a little scolding. Yes, even Regis…especially Regis. The prince accidentally washes his prized pan with the rough texture side of the sponge.

Being an able cook, Weskham can whip any delicious food up with just about any ingredient, to which the crew is very much grateful for. At least they won’t have bean soup for the third night straight. He’s looking at Cid.

Weskham is the most civil when it comes to getting rid of both vicious animals and villainous daemons. Swift and painless.

He has the best tunes than the rest of the crew. Whatever he picks to play in the Regalia, anyone would say it’s an agreeable choice.

Weskham loves to tell stories by the camp fire. This is Regis’ favourite part of the night.

The wise man always has something to tell and most of the time his stories are both exciting and insightful.

The guys look like children huddled by the camp fire, their eyes glued on the charismatic man as he regales them of tales of days past.

Weskham, suspiciously enough, has keys for almost everything.

When it comes to sleeping, Weskham is a shallow sleeper. He can rouse from his sleep just like Regis but unlike the Prince, this gentleman handles his sudden awakening with a very calm and collected demeanour, not thrashing about like a coeurl.

He is the only one in the group with a watch. In fact, he’s got like, five pocket watches?

He’s also the one they can rely on when it comes to reading compasses. But without it though, Weskham is, in Clarus’ own words, as useless as a dessert spoon.

Weskham is the voice of conscience. If Regis is driving recklessly, expect him to tell the prince to glue his eyes on the road. He’s also the one to tell Cid not to bother poor Leonis.

He is also the negotiator of the group. Cid is the opposite of course. When Cid gets them into trouble with anyone, especially at diners, Weskham is the man to do the job of clearing things. Regis can’t do it though because he won’t stop laughing at the bumbling mechanic.

Clarus

Clarus Amicitia hates bugs. He won’t stay still whenever he sees one. He won’t freak out, goodness no. But expect him to be jumpy each time he’d feel a mosquito on his skin. Those hundlegs? No thanks.

This is where his skill with blades come in handy. A fly on flying in front of you? SLASH. Clarus just slashed it in half with his little dagger. Cor wants to emulate it…he fails each time.

Cor asks his secret to being precise and agile. Clarus agrees to do so if Cor can tell him if the mosquito was a female or male. The young soldier gives him the famous Cor Leonis scowl. Priceless.

Clarus is the most adaptable to sleep and waking up. He needs to wake up early? No prob, he’ll be asleep by eight pm. He needs to stay up? No prob, bring in the coffee and expect him to be as hyper at four in the morning.

He likes to work out as much as he can. He also trains young Cor as Weskham cooks their food and Regis does his regular shave.

Clarus and Cid get on each others’ nerves sometimes. Nothing serious, though. It’s more that Clarus is used to keeping quiet and Cid is just the blabber mouth of the group. 

He particularly HATES it whenever Cid clicks his tongue to fill in the silence, especially at night.

He likes watching the stars before he goes to sleep. There’s something so calming about it each time he’d gaze at the stars in their millions.

He keeps a journal where he writes his star charts. 

He also writes about the animals and plants he sees. Everything about the wilderness amazes him. Yes, Clarus is the explorer of the group. One day, he’ll live out somewhere in Duscae where he’s surrounded by all things living. Insomnia’s just too full of buildings…and malls.

Clarus smuggled a frog in their journey. It’s his favourite pet, found it in Alstor Slough. His name is Pepito. Please don’t ask him why. Regis can’t get rid of it, not that he hates it. He likes it and wants it for himself. It’s just that, they can’t keep it from croaking all the damn time. Plus, Cid says frogs give warts. Weskham wants it out. Cor wants to keep it because it keeps the mosquitoes away. The said frog made it back to Insomnia.

He likes to sing in the mornings. He’s just way too happy in the early dawn.

Sabertusks hate Clarus. He doesn’t know why, but they always try to go after him. Remind him to bring extra clothes because he always ends up having ripped sleeves.

He’s the one who gets the fire going. Nobody else can do it like he does.

Clarus is not fussy with anything at all, except for his weapons. They have to be polished each time. 

Oh and, they must always have some hot sauce in their spices. This man lives for the spice.

And please, no matter what happens, please don’t give him those instant noodles. He wants real food. And real food takes time to be cooked.

Dirty nails, every damn time, no matter how many times he cleans them. It sets Regis’ hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Has the best whistle in the group; could be heard hundreds of feet away. No joke.

He’s also the navigator of the group. Regis is a lost cause in map reading and Cid is always holding the map on the wrong end. Weskham helps, but he’s not good with the actual terrain. 

Clarus sees a coin on the ground. He takes it. He sees a wonderfully shaped stone. He stashes it in his pocket. He finds a small crystalline curiosity. He covets it like a diamond ring. He’s the pack rat of the group.

Cor

Cor Leonis only thinks of one thing: keep the Prince safe. It’s hard-wired into his system. A pesky Voretooth is gnawing at the prince? Get rid of it. A cockroach is crawling on the prince’s shoulder? Smack it away. No more coffee? He’ll walk a kilometre to buy one.

Despite this, however, he’s no pet. He’s only doing his duty. Cor is not afraid to call out the prince if he’s doing something wrong. And it always happens.

Rain or shine, the young soldier always wears his hat. He’ll chase after it if it gets blown away. Cid teases him that he’s hiding something in his hat. He probably is, who knows?

Cor can sleep anywhere. He’s not fussy how he falls asleep. This boi can sleep standing up. 

He sleeps as still as a door nail -- he doesn’t move at all. He’s the perfect tent mate.

He loves to read his books before sleeping. Not maths or his studies, those are boring, he says. He likes to read nonfiction books about the world and of course, philosophy.

Cor can deny it all he wants, but he secretly likes it whenever Weskham makes a bowl of chilli. He lives for chilli nights.

He’s an all-around-er, meaning he can do almost anything. He’s a walking Swiss Knife.

If there are any imperial locks they needed to pick, Cor is expected to open it with ease. Oh and those tough cans of beans, he’s the only one who could open them.

Cor Leonis is stuck in the Regalia with older men. It’s not like he’s bothered by it; he even thinks as if he’s older than Cid. 

What he doesn’t get is their taste in music. He prefers the silence.

He likes to whistle, however. It’s the only habit that he can’t stop himself from doing.

He has a dislike for V, their guide. He doesn’t like that she dresses in men’s clothes and hides her face most of the time. He doesn’t trust people with secrets even if they have a good reason for it.

Cor treats her with courtesy but expect him to square his jaws whenever she gets to an enemy before him.

The wild animals love Cor Leonis. Even the bugs, much to his dismay.

He’s also known as the ‘Sunburn Kid’ as he always ends having his nose red after a long day on the road. He wears longs sleeves to shield himself from the sun, but his nose couldn’t escape the wrath of the sun.

He’s also the one who is more likely to catch a cold. He would have allergies too that would cause him to sneeze incessantly. The older guys feel sorry for the firecracker kid. He gets all pouty and his eyes would get so watery he looks like an innocent child.

Cor has names for everyone in the group, but he would never divulge it.

In fact, he has names for almost everything. It’s his way of amusing himself when the group starts talking about things like allergies or romance. Gotta keep himself entertained or else he might lose it.

Whenever they end up stopping by a gas station or a Crow’s Nest diner, Cor is the centre of attention.

Women of all ages gawk at him. The way he presents himself is a real lady killer. The older ladies remember their old romances back in the day, the moms would fuss about him asking if he’s already eaten and the young girls his age or the young women in their twenties would stare at him like he’s a rare chocobo.

Regis loves making fun of him, taking photos of the stoic young soldier as he whistles. He’s kind of proud of the ‘lil heartbreaker.

Clarus gives him the stink eye. It’s unfair.

Buys postcards from every damn outpost. He never sends it to anyone. He likes to collect them in his journal of mementos. Yup, Cor is loves to journal.

Cor is also the one with the most mosquito bites after a night at camp. He doesn’t know why, but bugs just love him.

Clumsy. He’s supposed to be the paragon of stoicism and grace, but somehow Cor ends up spilling his coffee on his pants, tripping on flat surfaces or knocking down merchandise. 

Beside disliking V, he found himself imitating her love for the word ‘phony.’

V

V finds herself crossing paths with Prince Regis and his crew. During their journey, she’s hired by the prince as their guide after she defeated a group of Reapers faster than any of them ever did.

That was before they knew she was a woman. She wore men’s clothing, trying not to show her face just in case someone who knows her sees her and asks why she hasn’t aged at all.

This triggered Cor’s suspicions about her when she revealed that she’s a woman by speaking since Cid won’t stop asking her about things.

Cor wants her out but Regis was adamant. Her skills and expertise in medicine would prove useful if they ever run out of potions supplies and their supplies are indeed running out, as well as their money. Plus it doesn’t hurt having a girl in the group.

After escaping Somnus Lucis Caelum two millennia ago, she lived her life as a rogue traveler, performing odd jobs from healer to scholar to hunter. That’s how she learned how to survive, hiding from the eyes of her most hated Lucian King.

During their days together, she doesn’t know who the guys are, even Regis. They never told her of their real identity nor their missions. In turn, she didn’t reveal her full name and never once stated her disdain for the Lucian line.

A wild woman in the battlefield. Cor considers her a savage in the way she fights as she fights with unrefined movements and uses every damn thing she can to her advantage. 

A crate on by the rocks? The perfect thing to throw on a Bulette before it rolls over and flattens poor Regis. A crouching Clarus? Why the perfect leverage for a pole arm dive attack. Cor’s daggers tucked in his back pockets? The best emergency weapons.

Veritas would often shout to the crew about the daemon’s weaknesses and would encourage them to use whatever they can to exploit the daemons’ weaknesses to kill them swiftly and painlessly.

She helps with the herb gathering, often times saving the guys from stomach aches or worse by telling them which mushrooms are not fit for consumption. Whoops. No wonder Regis gets stomach aches as he always picks the wrong ones! Good thing he didn’t get the ones with poison.

V can barter with the prices whenever they’d stop over at a market. Despite concealing her face, people know of the mysterious hunter who saved their hides a lot of times. So when this woman needs some discount, they’re not hesitant to give her some. They’d even throw in some free things, too, much to the crew’s gratitude. They once drove off with two boxes full of supplies and hurrah, Regis’ favourite coffee brand.

When it comes to hygiene, V is just like Clarus. She can handle all the dirt. She doesn’t have to shower a lot, much to Regis’ dismay. How can a woman be so unlady-like? V doesn’t mind, there’s always some place she can find for that most coveted shower time.

One of the boys. If there’s one thing that the crew has noticed is her lack of…femininity.

She can be as brusque as Clarus or as bad-mouthed as Cid (to a lesser degree, thank goodness) and as tough as Cor.

But show her a spider and all femininity goes back to her in a snap. 

She once spilled her hot cup of coffee on herself when a spider jumped at her one morning and Regis found himself holding on to a scared witless V. That started their friendship that would last a long time since in fact, Regis himself is terrified of spiders. So they both ran towards Clarus who also ran towards a very confused Cor Leonis who in turn held the spider in his hands (Regis cringes) and out of their sight.

V loves to catch the first rays of the sun as well as the last golden light at dusk. She talks of different things with them, especially with Weskham whose wisdom and calm demeanour she finds refreshing.

When it comes to sleeping, V sleeps outside the tent, much to their protests. Cor Leonis is suspicious of her, so he sleeps outside sometimes too.

She likes listening to the guys as they banter. She’d inadvertently join in, causing a ruckus when she defeated Cid in a ‘back talk’.

She doesn’t need saving, even from persistent men in the diner. 

Regis likes watching her turn down good looking men and women. She once smacked a guy in the face when she felt him feeling her up. 

Clarus had to carry her away. That’s the only saving she needed, much to the prince’s amusement. He remembers that, even until today.

[icosahedonist]

Masquerade

A Sid/Geno chat!fic. Thanks again to the denizens of the group chat who graciously allowed me to flood the chat with fic.

Inspired by this post: “The princess only threw masquerade balls. No one had ever seen her face.”

People speculate all kinds of reasons Prince Sidney wore masks. He's disfigured. He's painfully shy. Looking upon him causes instant madness. He's cursed. His beauty drives people to kill themselves from jealousy.

Geno's heard all those reasons and more, so when the next invitation comes (for everyone gets them but he's never been), he decides on a whim to check it out. Go see the masked prince in the flesh.

The ball is a gorgeous affair. Geno feels a little out of place in his slightly older formal wear, but he's not the only one. And while the decorations and food are numerous and splendid, the people there are varied in every possible way. And everyone is, of course, masked; anyone who didn't come with a mask was given one at the door.

Geno mingles. Nice music, nice atmosphere... He tells this to the man standing next to him, another wallflower, and he agrees.

"Have you seen the prince?" Geno asks.

The man looks at him, head tilted. His whole face is covered in a brightly painted mask, crystal beads sparkling around the opaque eye holes, a single raven's feather sticking up near the top.

Geno assumes that's a no. "Well I've come to see the prince, because he always throws these things, and invites everyone in the land, so why not, right? But since no one knows what he looks like..."

The man says, a little dry, "Wouldn't you be able to tell by his princely raiment? All those sashes and epaulets and what have you."

Geno laughs. "Maybe so." He tells the man his name is Geno, then asks him for a dance, and his name. The man acquiesces, and says his name is Sidney.

"Oh, like the prince, huh?"

"Yes, just like the prince."

Geno chuckles and asks, "So are you the prince?" Since no one, except those already in the know, knows just by looking around at all these masks.

Sidney shrugs. "What if I am? What then? Or what if I'm not?"

Geno wonders aloud why Sidney is hesitant to give a straight answer. Sidney laughs.

They dance. Geno's not half bad, good enough that he won't step on any toes, but Sidney glides like he's born to it.

At the end of the song Geno leads them over to the buffet, but Sidney declines to eat. Geno feels a little guilty eating while Sidney stands beside him with nothing, but Sidney assures him he's fine.

They dance some more, and talk. Geno tells Sidney of his work in town: he helps his family run a bakery, though Geno dreams of working with horses.

Sidney perks up. "The palace stables house some of the finest steeds around." Which Geno never doubted, as he's heard the royal family enjoys riding.

Shyly, and perhaps a little eagerly, Sidney says, "I can show them to you if you want."

Geno agrees, quite eager. So they slip away from the festivities and wind their way through hallways until they come outside to a quiet section of the palace.

They enter the stables: a long barn that smells strongly, but not unpleasantly. It's well-kept, and the horses perk up a little when Sidney lights a lamp. They're all beautiful, fine creatures in Geno's estimation, and Sidney leads him to a petite filly, black with a white blaze. She tosses her head but allows them to pet her.

Sidney tells Geno, "She's our newest addition, part of a personal trade that was brokered. Had to give up some minor land but it was mostly forest anyway."

"Oh, is that all?" Geno asks, teasing.

Sidney shakes his head. "It was worth it," he mutters.

Geno says nothing. They let the horses get back to sleep, and Sidney asks once they're outside if Geno would like to walk the grounds.

Geno slips Sidney's arm through his. "The prince won't mind?"

Sidney laughs. "No, he won't mind this either."

The grounds are lovely. Well-tended, well-lit... and oddly empty, Geno thinks. Surely there would be guards posted? He voices his thought and Sidney merely says that the grounds are guarded well enough. They walk until they near the palace, where the ball is still going strong.

Geno tells Sidney, "It's getting late; I have to be up early to make bread."

Sidney nods, then looks around before drawing Geno behind a tall hedge.

Curious, Geno watches as Sidney fiddles with his mask a moment. There's a double click, and the bottom of the mask separates, revealing Sidney's full mouth.

Well. There's only one thing for that.

When they draw back from their kiss, still sharing breath, Geno murmurs, "Is it all right for a prince to kiss a commoner?"

Sidney smiles. "Do you suppose I am the prince?"

Geno laughs and kisses him again, quick.

Sidney takes another moment to do up the mask, and they head toward the entrance of the palace where they take their leave of one another, glancing back every so often.

Geno goes to bed lighthearted. The next day is much the same as the last, and the day before that, and all the other days working in the bakery. But he doesn't mind: it's good work, and soon they'll begin training an apprentice so he can get that job at the stables.

The bell above the door chimes near noon, and he heads to the front to greet the customer. The man is handsome, if a bit disheveled from riding. He's running a hand through his curling hair and looking a little nervous. When he sees Geno his eyes widen. He audibly clears his throat and says, with feigned nonchalance, "I'm here to see Geno."

At his voice Geno stops. He knows that voice. And... he doesn't fully recognize this man, but there's something familiar about him. He says, "I'm Geno, how can I help you?"

The man clears his throat again and holds out his hand. "My name is Sidney, and I've heard you're interested in changing jobs."

Geno takes Sidney's hand gingerly. He studies his face, and his mouth. "Sidney? Like the prince?" he asks with a spark of hope.

Sidney smiles and laughs with relief. "Just like the prince," he says.

Geno smiles back, and offers him a seat while he brings out bread and tea, and they begin to discuss horses.

[teaandchess]

Angelic Display

AN: You see stuff like this happens because I don’t think before I tag. @maidenpool​ @inkbleeder​

This isn’t edited at all. I’m Megstiel trash once again. 

No real setting in this, AU, Nesting!Cas, confused Meg, grossed out Dean and Sam. Yeah. My finest work

Angelic Display

Castiel watched the demons go after Sam’s curt dismissal of them. He found it unsettling, the way the demon had looked at him so covertly, how her eyes had lingered, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Turning, he watched as they disappeared around the corner and the demon turned one last time. This time she was smiling, her dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her lips pulled into such a grin that it made his stomach lurch. What he saw underneath was confusing. A mass of grey and shadow, of scars and hate.

“She’s beautiful,” he muttered.

Dean turned, eyebrows raised. “Say again?”

“Oh, nothing,” Castiel said. He cleared his throat. “Demons are disgusting to angels, you know. We can see what they really are.”

“Sure,” Dean said but he didn’t sound wholly convinced.

But when she kissed him that night, when he crushed her lips to his to return the momentary intimacy, he had felt everything in him want to display his power and strength to her. He wanted to show her everything about him to see if it impressed her.

That was when he knew he was in trouble.

~~

The angels were no help in the matter. Dealing with the other angels as closely as he was, he was determined to forget the demon that he had experienced his first kiss with and he thought that maybe another angel, such as Rachel or Hannah, attractive angels in their own right and even without the vessels, were good candidates for his attention if he was inclined. Try as he might though, he was, frankly, bored by the idea of it.

It was all very confusing. Why didn’t he feel that way to his own kind? It made no sense.

It came up in conversation with Dean one night when he’d found the elder Winchester drinking and watching a soap opera. Dean barely reacted to his presence, likely finding Castiel less a threat to his reputation than Sam. Castiel took a careful seat on the other chair and wrinkled his brow as he watched the soap opera. A buxom redhead was seducing the wealthy billionaire, Dean had explained, because her dead sister who was a nun had returned and needed a face transplant. It was all very confusing.

Castiel stared at the woman. “Is she considered attractive?”

Dean glanced at him. “Sorry?”

He gestured. “This actress. She is attractive, correct?”

“Wouldn’t kick her out of bed, that’s for sure,” Dean said with a grin. Castiel exhaled sharply. Dean tilted his head at him. “Do you find her attractive?”

“She is very pretty, I suppose,” Castiel answered.

“But?”

“I have no interest in her.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean agreed. He pointed at the male co-star. “And him?”

“Nothing.” Castiel considered the actor. “How would he attract a partner?”

“The usual I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I’m very confused by human rituals when it comes to romance and sex.”

“Huh. Do angels get…feelings?”

Castiel looked at him sharply. “Of course we do.”

“Towards each other?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you?”

The angel winced. “Not lately.”

“Ever?”

“I appreciate external beauty as much as anyone. However what I’ve felt in the past has been fleeting. Hardly anything to be worth noting.” He looked at Dean. “You?”

“Man, give me a pretty girl and add some friskiness to it and I’m usually set,” Dean said with a grin and wink. “Maybe you haven’t met the right person, Cas.”

“That’s possible.” He thought fleetingly of that demon, Meg, and shook his head. “No, that is very likely. I have no real interest in relationships as it is. I am an angel after all.”

Dean took a long pull of his beer and then smacked his lips together. “Why are we talking about this? Something bothering you?”

“I…no.”

“Ah huh.” Dean leaned forward. “Just, do me a favour, okay? Don’t watch more porn. That isn’t romance.”

“Yes I know.” Castiel turned his attention back to the television. “I think I will just mark this as curiosity. Nothing more.”

~~

Except it wasn’t and he knew it. In between his battles and tortures and interrogations, Castiel found himself thinking too much about what to do. When possible, he pushed it to the back of his mind and there it sat for years. Where it was going to stay, he was determined.

But still, sometimes? He found himself experimenting with making his feathers tangible in the earthly existence and grooming himself when he had no need to really do it.

It didn’t make any sense.

~~~

Meg was lying low, as she had been in her way avoiding them all. Castiel watched over her the way he did the Winchesters but she was often so busy with her own battles that she never really noticed his invisible presence.

It was how he found himself at her hotel room one night, a one star motel room that had more water spots and dust than he liked, listening to her blasting rock music as she spent her usual hour in the bath. He had her routine memorized when she wasn’t out killing things. A bath, music, bad soap operas, some tequila, and a lot of grumbling about Crowley.

He looked at the bed and frowned. It smelt bad even. It didn’t suit her. Not at all. It wasn’t what she needed.

Castiel shook his head. That thought made no sense, what did he care?

The bath stopped running and he walked to the door, pressing his ear to the sigil painted wood to listen as Meg talked to herself. Smiling fondly, he turned around and looked at the bed. It still bothered him. It was so…so…

Unworthy.

Frustrated, he grabbed the musty comforter and rustled it so it formed a comfortable lump of material. Grabbing the pillows, he pushed them around to form a small half circle. Some internal satisfaction made him smile and nod before reaching to his back. It took some concentrating, some exertion of Grace, but with a small spark of pain he yanked a handful of tiny feathers from his wings. For some reason, his heart began to hammer in his chest as he sprinkled them on the comforter and pillows. The sight of them… it was good.

He smiled.

It was a start.

~~

Castiel carried that satisfaction with him for weeks after. He wondered what Meg had thought of it, longed to ask her, but the most he ever received in their weekly chats was a puzzled frown and maybe a confused glance up and down. So he remained pleased with himself for being demonstrative, did it twice more, and then turned his attention to the problems of Heaven. And occasionally the Winchesters. Mostly the Winchesters lately.

The bar smelt of demon and Castiel wrinkled his nose as he sat beside Dean and Sam at the low table. “Hey Cas,” Dean said, tired by the way his eyes drooped and his voice slurred.

“Dean, Sam.” He was about to ask why they called when he saw her, flitting in and out of the crowd. Blinking a few times to make sure it was Meg, Castiel sat back and straightened up. Dean frowned at the obvious eagerness on Castiel’s face and nudged Sam. Both men turned and then groaned.

“What is she doing here?” Dean groaned but before Castiel could answer Meg had reached them and she looked murderous.

“Okay, what’s the joke?” she demanded, her eyes fixed on Castiel.

“Joke?”

“There’s gotta be a punchline here.”

Sam waved his hand. “Hold on, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Meg dug into her coat pockets. “Your angel boy there has been leaving me things in my rooms.” She produced two handfuls of feathers from her leather coat and dumped them on the table. “I just have to guess that this is some sort of angelic joke I don’t get.”

Castiel considered the pile. It had to be all his feathers he’d left behind. “You’ve been keeping them?” he asked. The delight in his voice made Sam give him a sharp look but Dean was checking a feather curiously.

“That’s not the point. I want to know what’s up. Did you two nerds get him to do this?”

“Nothing we put him up to.” Dean took a sip of his drink. “Angels do have weird senses of humour.”

“It’s no joke,” Castiel said. “I thought…that is… I had hoped, you would appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah, you screwing with my bed, leaving angel dirt around is really what I need in life,” Meg snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest. “So spill.”

Castiel swiped nervously at the back of his neck as both Winchesters looked at him.

“Cas?” Dean prompted. “Before Meg keeps on screeching? I’ve got a killer headache.”

“It is a gesture. That’s all.” Castiel refused to look at any of them. Sam looked at the pile of feathers. He turned one over a few times. Then he grinned.

“Heh.”

Both Castiel and Meg looked at him sharply. “What?” The demon sounded murderous.

“It’s just…kind of funny, you know? I mean, in biology I used to read about birds doing this.” Castiel shook his head at Sam as they made eye contact and the young man continued to grin. “It’s like a nesting thing. A mating ritual”

Meg stared at them both. “Say again?” Then she shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Clarence, knock it off.”

He nodded.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Dean asked and she stood up.

“None of your business but I have some contacts to meet.” She looked over at the huddle of men in the corner. “Duty calls.”

Castiel turned in his chair to watch her go but at a loud rumble from Dean he looked around.

“Feathers, Cas?”

“It was just… a gesture. Of friendship.”

The lie sounded stupid even to Castiel.

“Yeah huh.” Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

~~

It was only worse a week later as Castiel’s strangeness continued. Even he was surprised at himself as his actions began to become stranger. He found himself listening closely to Dean’s music as it blared in the bunker, swaying from side to side as he read the books he’d been assigned.

Sam caught him pirouetting a step one night. “You okay?” he asked as he turned down the Led Zeppelin blaring. “Lemon Song isn’t really what I’d call dance music.”

Castiel had no real concept of what he was talking about. “I was merely enjoying it.”

“Sure thing.” The buzzer for the outer door sounded and he shook his head. “I’ll get that.”

Castiel began humming to himself loudly as the song continued and turned to Rolling Stones’ Come On next. Even as Meg came into the room, Sam on her heels, he didn’t stop. Her appearance only heightened his desire to prove he could move.

He would have been horrified if he realized just how badly he danced. He moved and swivelled and bounced and shimmied and the ridiculousness of the sight escaped him.

Meg arched both brows. “What’s with the Dad dancing?”

Sam was embarrassed for his friend. “He’s been working long hours,” he said for an excuse.

“Right,” Meg said. “Look, I got that info you needed. Where’s my payment?”

She handed over the folder and Sam took it to the back room as Castiel continued his strange dancing. Meg leaned against a shelf, turning up the volume on the music player, and smiled despite herself as she watched.

“What’s up, bird brain?” she called out and he spun abruptly on his heel. Meg frowned. “I’m not a Stones’ fan really. Let’s try…”

Muddy Waters blared instead and Castiel stopped swaying. The deepness of the music suddenly burned into him and he found himself staring at Meg.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” he said.

“You know how I feel about poetry,” Meg drawled.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out. It didn’t shock her.

“Bet you say that to all the demons,” she said as she put her hands behind her back. Castiel looked around the room.

“I wish…” he shook his head. “Never mind. What colour do you like?”

“For what?” She grinned. “Making me something?”

“Perhaps.” His honesty made her stare with her jaw slack. “Colour?”

“Violet, I guess. Or red like, blood. There’s a shock, I know,” Meg said, trying to be flippant. Castiel smiled.

“Thank you.”

Then he was gone in the blink of an eye and Meg stared, confused at where he had stood. “Weird,” she whispered and then turned to find Sam to collect their bargain.

~

Meg wasn’t prepared for Dean’s phone call that she should come to the bunker immediately. No questions asked either. Chalking it up to a trap, she   was prepared for holy water in the face and a knife in the back when she came through the door, not for Dean to nearly sprint to her.

“You gotta see this,” he said. His overt friendliness was confusing and she nearly blinked out to avoid him.

“Whoa, slow down.” She took in the common room. It was strewn with silver streamers and confetti and smelt of cookies. “What is this? Slumber party night or something?”

“I’m hoping you can answer that. He’s your boyfriend now, remember?”

“Ok, not funny,” she said, but Dean took her by the elbow. “Grabby!”

“He’s been off his rocker again and I hope you know why.” He propelled her down the hall to the basement. “He’s been insisting on ‘decorating’. Which isn’t like Cas at all.”

“Okay,” Meg said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Look, if you don’t help me, I’ll tell Crowley where you’re hiding.” She glared at him and he grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

They rounded the corner and Meg put the brakes on immediately as glittering silver dangled around her. Mirror after mirror hung from fishing line on the ceiling. She’d never admit it to Dean but it was beautiful, like walking into a mirrored hall. It also was slightly nauseating the way the silver shone and blinded her.

Sam was leaning against the wall, grinning stupidly.

“What?” she grumbled.

“He did say to call you, that you’d understand. I hope you can.”

“This is all beyond me,” she said as she rounded the corner into the junk room and came face to face with a very naked, purple painted angel. She nearly broke into laughter but something made her stop. Maybe it was knowing she’d hurt his feelings. She wasn’t sure, it wasn’t something she normally cared about. All she knew was that Castiel was doused in sparkly violet paint and was standing in the middle of the room. He was knee-deep in purple feathers that fluttered in the air with each step he took. He was moving strangely, back and forth, arms raised and head snaked forward. There was a faint hum as he moved and Meg thought that the sound was coming from him.

“What…the…hell…” she whispered.

“We’d hope you’d know.”

“Like something out of a Prince music video,” she muttered. The paint had soaked him and Castiel had to keep blinking to keep it from creasing and dripping into his eyes. Still he focussed on his odd steps. “Uh, Clarence?”

His head jerked up and he spotted her.

Standing between Dean and Sam, Meg suddenly felt very on point. “Care to explain?” she asked.

There was a loud singing sound, like metal being struck, and suddenly there was a swarm of shadow behind him. His wings stretched from one side of the room to the other and then around the walls, Meg having the sensation that she was being touched by feathers.

Then suddenly, with a disappointing pop, Castiel’s wings seemed to transform into physical shape and they were as purple as the rest of him.

“I’ve got to get a photo of this,” Dean said and Sam swatted him, snatching his phone out of his hand.

“Cas,” he called. “Uh, buddy, what’s up?”

The wings being displayed flared upward in an odd semi-circle around Castiel’s head as he walked toward them. Dean and Sam made a show of looking anywhere but at the nude angel while Meg could only look at Castiel’s eyes. They had turned a hypnotic brilliant white-blue and when he came to stand toe to toe with her, she felt her knees quake a little at the power she saw there.

“This is so weird, Clarence,” she said.

“I agree,” he said. “I’ve not felt this way before.”

Before she could stop him, he grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms. He spun her about and looped his arms around her waist. Meg made a muffled cry as violet paint smeared her from head to toe while Castiel held her, his face burying into her hair and inhaling deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispered.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean said.

Meg was about to pull away when she felt Castiel’s naked body responding to her closeness. Never one to ruin an opportunity, she wriggled a little. “Clarence?”

“Stay with me,” he whispered, ignoring Sam and Dean. “Dance with me.”

His mouth closed around her earlobe and began to nibble.

“Not a…not a…dancer,” Meg said, struggling to focus.

“You know,” Sam said, catching Dean by his collar. “I think… I think we’re just gonna go. Meg, you’re good?”

“Huh?” she asked, the heat emanating off Castiel’s body dizzying.

“Wait, what?” Dean asked but Sam was dragging him behind to the door. It made a loud bang and with it took Meg’s remaining thoughts of escape.

“Clarence,” she said but his hands were moving over her body, unbuckling and unzipping as they went. He sucked and bit at her neck, causing her eyes to flutter closed as she arched into him. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve chosen you,” he said, simply. “No one else will do.”

“Oh.”

His fingers trailed through her hair, removing tangles and smoothing it down her back. His mouth began to move over her shoulder as he tugged her shirt down. “I’ve waited years to be sure.”

“Oh.” Meg felt her head beginning to get fuzzy again as he removed her shirt and started on her bra.

“Is this…acceptable?”

Meg felt herself being wrapped tightly in feathery softness that gleamed purple in the shine of the mirrors. She caught their reflection in one. Castiel loomed over her, his face buried in her hair as he stroked her body. She was coated in the pain, she sparkled as much as he did. It was the weirdest, hottest thing she’d seen recently.

“Oh why the fuck not?” she muttered as she took his hand and pulled it to cup her breast.

He huffed happily against the back of her neck and they spun together into the depths of the room. They landed with a thump and immediately he was on her, mouth pressing to hers, fingers lacing through her hair. Meg felt the feathery carpet drifting around them and laughed as she held him tightly against her, legs hooking around his hips.

It wasn’t the strangest part of their relationship, she decided, when Castiel began to recite poetry in a singsong voice. Not that she understood a word of it as she rolled him to his back and began to kick her clothing off. He was singing in Enochian so loudly that she was sure the Winchesters could hear.

Naturally, it made her need to shut him up for a while. She forced him to sit up so that she could force his mouth to her breasts, where his mouth was put to far better use after that.

~~

Midway through breakfast, Dean looked up at the sound of someone walking up the hall. He was prepared for a lot of things, but the sight of a purple drenched Meg, wrapped in a bed sheet with Castiel  following behind her. She was coated in feathers as if the paint had been tar and glitter was in her hair. His arm slung around Meg’s shoulders, Castiel tugged her close and guided her down the hall into the common room.

Still naked, the angel looked as if he’d been thoroughly, happily, fucked. Dean glanced at Meg rather than have to stare much longer at his naked friend and noticed the satisfied grin on her face. Also thoroughly fucked, by his guess.

Sam dropped his bowl of oatmeal on the floor at the sight of them.

“You… you guys okay?” he asked.

“Better than,” Meg said as she came to the table and sat down. Castiel drew a chair up beside hers and began to quietly push his fingers through her hair. Oddly sedate, the demon let him, her eyes closed as he groomed her.

“This is so weird,” Dean muttered and Sam nodded. “Meg, you look like…”

“You’d be amazed,” Castiel said, “at how athletic a demon is.”

“Shut it right now,” Dean warned.

The angel made a face and plucked a tiny feather from Meg’s shoulder. As she reached for the coffee pot, he weaved it quickly into her hair and grinned. “Perfect.”

Both brothers were amazed that the gesture seemed to please the demon.

“So this was some big…mating ritual?” Sam asked.

“I suppose,” Castiel said. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Could have fooled me,” Meg said with a grin. Dean choked on his coffee and glared at them.

“Well, someone has to clean up the mess. Cas, that’s your job.”

The purple-coated angel nodded and turned to look at the room. He immediately puffed up and even his hair bristled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“There’s another angel here.”

“What? Where?” Both brothers looked around. Meg felt Castiel’s grip on her tighten and he was swinging her into his arms. She beat his chest futilely.

“Hey! Not big on the romantic gestures!”

“I need to protect Meg,” the angel informed the Winchesters who could only stare open-mouthed at him.

“Sure?” Dean said.

Meg saw the way Castiel was staring at the big mirror on the wall. She felt his body tighten up as he glared at his reflection.

“You are such a dork. That’s you, feathers!”

“It…” He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. “Oh. “Well… I had…better clean up.”

He began to set her down but Meg stopped him. “No point now, you’d better finish what you were starting.”

He stared at her and Meg grinned. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair and scratched her nails gently across his scalp.

“Show me your dance again, Clarence, and I’ll show you mine.”

“You guys are so gross!” Dean shouted as the demon and angel blinked out of the room.

[sundownunited]

Late nights and Early mornings, a constant mantra at SXSW, and plague on my soul. Day 3 starts only a couple of hours after Day 2 ends, but this first session in the morning at 9:30am is a must for me, as I’m current affairs “woke”, as the kids say.

First session is “Cover POTUS as the Failing New York Times”. The title alone is enough to guarantee my attendance… and apparently 2,000 others as this session was a packed to capacity, which is saying quite a bit for such an early session. The session was lead by NYT columnist Jim Rutenberg, who was having a fireside chat/interview with his boss, NYT Executive Editor Dean Baquet. It was an excellent discussion on journalism’s role in politics, combating fake news, the economic model of news agencies in the 21st century, and of course, covering Trump, all the while cracking jokes in an engaging and lively session.

Here are some significant takeaway quotes/points from Dean Baquet (not verbatim):

“Trump wants the favor of NYT and when he doesn’t get it, goes into a rage.”

“I think it’s more important to cover the story and say it’s false, then to not cover it at all because it’s false.”

“We are hiring like crazy, 3 renown investigative reporters, bulked up white house and political coverage. We are preparing for the story of a generation. There are going to be 20 books written about this period in Journalism.”

“The original mission of the collective community of journalists became clear again after the election: aggressive coverage of the government.”

“The reason Breitbart is not journalism is because they are not in seek of the honorable pursuit of the truth.”

“The next generation doesn’t understand the secret text of journalism. They don’t realize an NYT journalist risked their lives to bring news from Aleppo Syria.” …On what the difference is between bloggers and journalists.

“200 stories are put out a day by 1,300 NYT employees.”

“Digital headlines are different from print. They have to tell more, since it’s just a headline link, rather than a print paper with a picture and layout architecture.”

Next, I headed to WeDC house for their session “Technology & Storytelling”, for reasons that should be obvious if you are reading this article. Halfway through this session, they had to pause and clear everyone out because an attendee fainted. SXSW is a marathon, not a sprint; make sure you eat, drink, and sleep! The session continue after EMS took the woman out. The session focused on VR experiences in story telling, which, though very interesting to me, is not a medium I am currently in, and as a result, I left early.

Next up was a podcast meetup, so I could share and brainstorm ideas about pod-casting to level up my own podcast I co-host, The Feedbak (www.thefeedbakcom), that covers lifestyle, culture, politics, events of leisure events, with a focus on music and nightlife. The meetup was in a conference room the JW Marriot. A good sized crowd, but unfortunately the execution of the meetup became more of a Q&A session hosted by the organizers rather than a chance to talk with other pod-casters and share ideas. As a result, I again left early, though I did gain a little knowledge from a few questions answered.

Back at the WeDC house earlier, I had sparked up a quick conversation with my neighbors in line who told me about Neil DeGrasse Tyson (NDT) making an appearance at the National Geographic (Natgeo) house at 3pm. With this intel in hand as I left the podcast meetup, I headed straight for Natgeo.

Natgeo is, surprisingly, crushing it this year at SXSW! They have an open bar with a great listing of Natgeo TV show themed drinks (covered in Day 1 article). They also have great interviews, VR sessions, giveaways, and even parties/shows at night. If such as a thing as “nerd lit” exists, Natgeo is undeniably it.

I hit Natgeo over an hour before NDT was to go on. I sampled some drinks and did some work on my laptop while a session narrated by a NatGeo photographer David Guttenfelder on his photography work in North Korea (which was rather amazing).

Once that finish, Neil DeGrasse Tyson took the stage with director Ron Howard to talk sciene shop on science/scientist in movies/tv and Natgeo’s new tv show directed by Ron Howard about Albert Einstein called “Genius”. This session was amazing. NDT lead the conversation, asking questions of Ron Howard, while constantly cracking jokes and commentary; NDT’s charisma is a godsend for the science community. The crowd laughed, applauded, and was just overall in rapture during the entire hour long session. Natgeo even gave away thick, illustrated coffee table books on NDT’s Star Talk show.

Here’s a few quotables/points taken away:

“No nation owns science. If your country pulls back on science, then others will arise to take your place.”

“Scientists have not been viewed as fellow human beings until recently when TV/Movies began creating scientist characters with fleshed out personalities.”

“First get your facts straight, then distort the facts.” — Mark Twain as quoted by NDT.

Next and final conference session of the day to hit was Mark Cuban’s “Is Govt Disrupting Disruption?” This was another 2,000 full capacity session in the same ballroom in the Austin Convention Center (ACC) as the NYT session earlier that day. The session also featured founder of The Zebra, Adam Lyons, and was moderated by Michele Skelding of UT-Austin.

The session was OK, but compared to the earlier NYT and NatGeo sessions, I found myself becoming victim to my lack of sleep and nodding off. The overall theme of the discussion was around what the government should regulate and what it should not, a time old debate in the US and many other countries. I didn’t hear too much new, but several laughs and some additional humorous comments about Trump kept my eyes open more often than not. I did take down one statement (not verbatim) by Cuban that stood out to me:

“I’m a libertarian, but I evolved through empathy that we as a society need to take on Healthcare so that, as Reagan said, we don’t have people falling over dying in the streets.” …on some healthcare as a right in the US.

With the day sessions behind me, I needed a bite, a drink and some conversation. I met up with some of the Domination Team at the “Health & Tech” happy hour at WuChow sponsored by Aetna.

This happy hour was specifically chosen because WuChow is the finest, fanciest, most delicious Chinese/Taiwanese restaurant in Austin and it plays old school 80s and 90s hip-hop exclusively to boot! True to form, excellent food at this venue along with crafty cocktails; it was packed, but I still made some friends with strangers and ate/drank rather well.

Meanwhile, most of the Domination Team was at Sidewinder’s bar for Canada’s “Eh” party. Food and drinks kept everyone there adding some lively energy to the party until the DJ played several songs of Canada’s own Celine Dion. That’s a quick way to get people to leave a party; Celine might be great, but she isn’t party great.

Other’s in the Domination Team got detoured from the Canadian party by a bar on sixth street wooing them off their path as they were walking by and giving them a free bottle service of liquor to just hang out for awhile. Helps to be pretty, turned up, and pushing good energy!

Next, I hit up the Hangar Lounge for Shopgate’s Decoded Fashion closing party. Made it a little late for food, but drinks, good music, and catching up with several members of the Domination Team kept me around for awhile. I eventually bailed and snuck back home to drop off my laptop, freshen up, and nap. Except the nap never happened; I instead hopped right back out in the SXSW mix for a show!

I first stopped by Empire Garage & Control Room to catch a few sets of some of my favorite local Austin acts (Riders Against the Storm, Magna Carda, Ava Rain, Alesi Lani and more.

  After that, I went to my true destination: Vevo House At Pelons Bar where Nick Grant and Jay Electronica were performing. Upon walking into the door (entrance granted by showing tweet of the show flyer), a waiter insisted we take shots of tequila he was passing out. I refused at first (can’t be getting too wasted and I had been drinking all day), but the waiter then gave a lengthy description on the incredibleness of the tequila that ended with him saying it was $60 a shot. Although I don’t believe the $60 price tag nor remember the length story of the tequila, for the waiter’s notable efforts, I went ahead and downed a shot. Helps it was free! We later dubbed the Tequila “Mermaid Tears” since that’s about the only liquid we could think of worth $60 a shot.

    I missed Nick Grant’s show at Vevo House, but caught Jay Electronica start to finish. Holy Hell, Jay can flow and perform… he rocked the hell outta that house. He came into the crowd of that tiny venue and stage multiple times, I have several selfie photos and videos to show for it. He even pulled a random Austin audience member claiming to be an artist and let him freestyle on stage for a minute or two. Overall, top notch hiphop performance, and I don’t say that very often about shows without a band or big stage presence/production.

Meanwhile, the majority of the Domination Team was at The Belmont venue for the Holonis party, taking picture’s with their childhood crush Mario Lopez (aka A.C. Slater), Bow Wow, and watching a show by Warren G. Open bar was flowing the whole time, and so were the smiles and turnup’ness.

A few others of the Domination Team closed it out at Intel’s AI Lounge where local Austin artist Mobley (think Pharrell but plays all the instruments live too).

After the Jay Electronica show, I called it a night at the incredulous early SXSW time of 11:30pm; the less than 3 hours of sleep the night before had fully taken its toll.

2017 SXSW CHRONICLES: Neil DeGrasse Tyson + Jay Electronica // DAY 3 Late nights and Early mornings, a constant mantra at SXSW, and plague on my soul. Day 3 starts only a couple of hours after Day 2 ends, but this first session in the morning at 9:30am is a must for me, as I'm current affairs "woke", as the kids say.

[justyetanotherthrowaway]

We doin’ the “my oldest v my newest”? Folks, I can go way back. Like, Trollplay back.

This thing dates back to at least September 2012, based on the fact that I emailed partners to continue RPs (as was the style at the time, what with the inability to save chat partners of Trollplay).

((Possible trigger warnings: Pre-RP character death and graphic descriptions of third-degree burns. Ghost John. Collegestuck. Humanstuck would be preferred, but it is not necessary. Any canon-gendered character welcome.)) It had been three years, but they had finally done it. They had finally decided to use John's room again after the legendary Prospit Fire that tragically took his life. And to be honest? He was ecstatic. Though he had been doomed to inhabit the room for all eternity (he wasn't quite sure why, to be honest), he didn't want to "haunt" it, per se. But his new roommate didn't need to know that just yet. He invisibly moved over to one of the dresser drawers, opened it, and slammed it shut; he then used his ghosty trickster-y powers to make the inhabitant's phone play a particular Ray Parker, Jr. song.

And THIS thing is markedly more recent, though still dating back to April!

Jade Harley smiled to herself. Well, here she was, about to FINALLY make a name for herself in a way that no one would be able to say was because of her grandfather's legacy.

Well, okay, sure, she was still at one of SkaiaNet's labs, so TECHNICALLY, she was still under his wing, but he hadn't had the idea to put a lab in Brooklyn! Then again, considering the types of work she'd been doing compared to the work he'd done, it made total sense that he'd never really been located in a major city. When one did nuclear work, one didn't want to risk taking out millions of lives.

That's why she'd spent most of her childhood on an island lab of his, learning under his wing. Then, when he'd died while she was young, she was off to some of the finest private schools (and then colleges) money could buy. After she'd gotten her first two doctorates (in chemistry and physics, naturally), she'd set out to do her own work, and try and get out of his shadow. That's why she was here right now, about to put her first independent experiment to the test!

The plan, if it were to work, was simple. After flipping the oversized switch on the wall (because who DIDN'T want to look like a mad scientist while they were changing the world?), the apple on her desk would then appear in the middle of Columbus Circle in less than a fraction of a second, and it would also quadruple in size. The Big Apple indeed. If this worked, then she would have mastered both teleportation and spatial manipulation by way of changing objects' sizes.

What she hadn't even remotely considered was how her years of childhood spent unprotected near radiation would interact with the intense amounts of radiation that were involved in this first, proof-of-concept test.

As it turned out, they'd interact by instead sending the entire building into the center of Columbus Circle supersized. Except for Jade, though. She stayed right where she was: on the bottom floor of what was now a vacant lot in Bedford-Stuyvesant, knocked onto her back by the unexpected shock that had traveled through her.