#those are far more rare than him being a watcher

[erigold13261]

I’m glad that Ilia is the one who’s the center of the universe/pos since if that role was taken on by someone like Mahito… uh oh. (I can also see many others simply not being able to handle the pressure)

Oh yea, absolutely.

At the end of the day, Ilia is a lazy and content person who is just so much happier being a wallflower and watching things go down rather than get involved.

Though there are absolutely times where he just self inserts himself into a world and plays around. Mainly it's him just trying to hang out with people he finds interesting, but sometimes it is to try and change the outcome of things (usually to make peace, but he's definitely had versions of himself that were trying to help the curses full force get their way).

Overall though, mainly any Ilia you look at is just an onlooker. If Mahito had this power, or most other people, it would be the opposite where more often than not they would be do-ers and almost never there to just watch (like Miles and Mahito are absolutely people who would never just sit and watch, but are both on the complete opposite sides of the morality scale).

Makes me think of Flowey from Undertale in a sense. Where Flowey tried helping everyone at first, then watching, then went to killing everyone until he was so numb that nothing really happened that was new to him (until Frisk and the Player came to the underground).

Ilia is just watching at the moment. With some versions helping humans and others helping curses. There will be a day/version where he is trying to just cause chaos (TADC Ilia is in this state a bit, but also more just following TADC Mahito's orders), but for now he is mainly just an onlooker.

[screamingcrows]

Nothing will be spared

Chapter 2 - Good luck fingering oblivion

Notes: Whatever. *yeets this*. Don't squint too hard at this, and do not use this for AI. Tags: dottore x fem!reader, reincarnation au, canon-divergent, angel reader, death, hurt/comfort, medium burn but it will go up in flames, teyvat speculation if you squint, written pre Natlan release Minors, blank, and ageless blogs; DNI

Nothing seemed remiss as you soared, cool air calming the flurry of nerves that felt on the verge of combustion. It felt mocking. The best course of action would be to inform Her of what had transpired, She would know what to do, She had to. Despite the ringing in your ears and the countless assurances of faith that clawed to gain hold at your mind, you had yet to return to Her embrace.

From afar, the place of your creation resembled a painting, foreboding oranges bleeding into the violent purple of the sky, further highlighting the ivory spires that had remained unmoved for millennia.

How many sunrises had you seen since Zandik's soul had been returned to the earth? It would only be so long before you had to return to Her embrace, lest they all grow suspicious.

What would happen once you admitted to such a critical lapse of judgement? There had already been doubt and distrust in the hearts of the other watchers, with this as proof of your incompetence, they were bound to plead that you be removed.

Discomfort weighed heavily at the prospect of being without purpose, wings beating a little harder to keep afloat as you paced in circles, as though the repetition could somehow change the inevitability of the outcome.

Guilt festered in an unseen wound that often had you wondering if it was akin to the unrest Zandik's fractures would surely cause. However much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it would be folly to meddle with the mortal's life without knowing of potential repercussions. You resigned yourself to watch him from afar, needing some way to soothe the ache of impending doom that had lodged itself between your ribs.

Once you were certain there was nothing immediately wrong you would return and repent, She would know sooner or later. The best you could hope for was a merciful sentence.

He should count himself lucky, he supposed, to have been born within the imposing walls of a flourishing oasis, food and drink never further away than the tug of a servant's robes. Music wafted through the air from below, breaking the static those memories imposed and instead carrying a hint of spice and pungent flowers into the room. It was the twelfth time these celebrations were held in his name. Still, they were far more pleasant than memories that were no use denying, instances where he swore he tasted ash atop his tongue and the scent of burning athel clung greedily to his soft linens.

Most days were spent inside the safety of the palace walls, sheltered from the churning unrest that prospered in the wake of their wealth. Teachers came and went, bringing every imaginable combination of tomes, models, maps, even rare samples of flora and fauna were brought before the boy. None of them awoke any interest rivalling rhe night sky and the mechanical constructions walking the streets, much to the chagrin of them all. Both topics something he could only observe from afar.

'Mature for his age' - hardly a complement and more of a curse from their lips, lamenting the difficulty he brought. That time spent in bitter complaint could've been put to use listening instead, perhaps if they listened, they could make sense of how memories he hadn't made devoured his mind one fragment at a time.

Soft fingertips traced along the cooling limestone, chin resting atop the windowsill as longing and impatience thrummed with ferocity as darkness swallowed the horizon. The latest tutor had been a spindly man, his crooked fingers tracing simple symbols while expecting Zandik to mimic the movements. What good was receiving lessons in a language you already knew? No matter how fervently he studied, the language that should flow within his veins felt borrowed atop his tongue.

As did the name they used for him. Not quite right.

It wasn't the one summoned to the forefront of his mind whenever he was forced to give it out to some stranger. He buried his head briefly into the comforting embrace of his arms.

Many things were withheld from him that much he knew; a father who seemed unable to remain still in his company, a mother whose eyes shifted between complete vacancy and deep sorrow, knowledge he was barred from attaining. They kept things from him, that much was plainly visible, why else would he be denied unsupervised entry into the studies? Wasn't it in everyone's interest that he knew their history, all of it?

Flames licked along the streets, countless braziers having been lit to serve as backdrop for the celebration. Reminding himself that they were braziers, not pyres, shouldn't have been as difficult as it was. His head ached, the dull thud reminiscent enough of knocking against a door that a wayward glance was cast, waiting with frustration for cold silence to be the only response.

Blaming incense and heat for the fits of madness that had haunted him since the first time juvenile eyes had fallen upon a celestial chart was easy enough.

The wooden door to his chambers creaked open without warning, quickly followed by a call of that foreign name, causing the boy to spin, crimson eyes wide with indignation in hopes of scaring off the intruder.

"I want to be alone."

As recognition settled, he knew neither petulant expression nor clipped words would be enough, the smug smile upon the guest's lips confirming as much. Every creaking step she drew closer seemed to reverberate through his being, the almost ethereal youth warring with the few comments he had caught of his grandmother's age.

"Do not dismiss me so hastily, little one. I merely caught wind that my most adored grandson had once more refused to participate," the glint in her eyes spoke of unmatched cunning, "we all want to ensure your comfort."

A dead silence ensued as she went to perch on the bed, expectantly petting the spot beside her as the surface of her skin rippled. Not pure energy, but close. He knew the jinn had served his grandfather, the matter of love was something they refused to touch upon with him. For all the memories he had, there was no recollection of seeing anything but pale amusement. 'Our love was sweet as honey'.

"I'm fine," he knew it was a poor lie, still reluctant to tear his gaze from the sky as he sat beside the jinn, "don't like crowds is all."

"There'll be no grand banquets once you're king?"

The thought of assuming such a position, one bathed in sunlight, made his stomach churn with unease, tainting the firmness of his voice so he resigned to merely shaking his head. Just the thought of being surrounded by loud cheers had his mind running amok, screaming about a doomsday he didn't know. His heart pumped a little harder.

Fingers combed through his hair with foreign gentleness, for a moment causing his vision to flicker as another took the jinn's place, the phantom gone in a feathery cloud.

"How very unlike your line, I'm sure the city will prosper under your rule," she chose her words too carefully, "whatever you bring to the throne."

Assuming a mantle of power had yet to become a tangible concept despite how everyone outside his family already bowed down. Much as the stars, it was dangled just out of reach, inciting a longing that ran deeper than the unspoken clefts between them. Liloupar was always moving, shifting uneasily as an errant leaf caught in one of the many aqueducts their golden lord had filled with life.

Eyes closed, the sting of a palm against his cheek was easily summoned forth, "Father won't even let me near."

Not a beat of silence was allowed to pass before her laughter rang out, tousling his hair with more purpose than before.

"Oh don't fret over the inevitable. A day will come where he must lay down the mantle. It happens to everyone, just as it will happen to you," a sharp pinch to his cheek accompanied the flicker of darkness, "in a long long time of course. History writes itself whether we want it or not."

He simply shrugged his shoulders, uncomfortable with the understanding in her voice and more than a little reluctant to engage. There was nothing to be done against her insistence, and soon enough, a servant had been called, bringing with them a wooden tray bearing two cups.

Crimson liquid sloshed up the sides of the cup, the drink deceptively sweet upon his tongue.

"Let me tell you a story, little one, of how you came to be," it caught his attention immediately, ignoring the bitter aftertaste now lingering at the back of his throat, "beautiful and kind, a delicate being descended upon this place-"

"The middle of the city? Wouldn't that have been-"

A rap to his free hand quickly dispersed any protests from the boy, and she continued with a satisfied hum, "Impatient little creature, this is long before any city stood here."

"I've heard this story a million times over already," he downed more of the crushed fruit, licking his lips and looking to the cup in her hands, grinning in satisfaction when it was relinquished.

"As I was about to say, she birthed life into these lands wherever she stepped, and formed bonds with other enlightened beings. A truly arrogant man refused to heed her warnings, and in her eternal kindness, she was lost to quell divine fury. Though we mourn her slumber, she remains with us in the blooming flowers and the gentle gaze of the moon, and one day, she will walk among us once more."

The full cup rested forgotten between his hands, eyes drinking in the starlight reflected in the Liloupar's eyes. His own thoughts had already begun drifting, caught on the last bit of her statement. 'Walk among us once more' had his consciousness diving into tainted waters, oblivious to the history lesson taking place. Though it certainly had more flourish, every tutor had already outlined The Mistress of Dreams' exploits.

"I helped your grandfather build this city after her passing, he was a beloved man back then," the beat of silence that passed wasn't enough for his thoughts to focus on her warning tone, "but you are even kinder and more brilliant already. Don't doom yourself to repeat our mistakes, many will offer you guidance, trust yourself, I'm certain you will lead our people to their destiny."

"I know my absence has been a burden upon you, believe me when I say it was not an easy decision," the falsehoods were honeyed upon your tongue, chest aching with shame as they poured forth, "thank you, Artiya"

Your fellow watcher's gaze remained unmoved as they marched you through gilded halls, unperturbed by the silent bustle of others. You didn't expect forgiveness readily offered, but the deadly silence was disheartening to say the least. After being away, the heavy note of styrax that clung to the air felt invasive in much the same way their eyes did when fixed upon you.

"Dozens of seasons have passed since your last appearance. Four souls were without guidance for far too long," crystalline needles pierced through your skin with every word, "were it up to me, you wouldn't have been allowed back."

There was nothing to say in rebuttal, knowing full well that abandoning your duty to observe, for you refused to recognize it as wallowing in anxious obsession, had no excuse. But wasn't it ridiculous that something preached as the pinnacle of protection would be so fragile? If a sentimental mistake could shatter the carefully spun fates, wasn't that all the more proof that the system itself was flawed? A sharp snap of metal against the marbled path scattered those blasphemous thoughts as though nothing more than dust.

Artiya gave a sharp nod, having come to a halt where the path widened into the grand platform where only She waited. So there would be no prying eyes this time at least.

Bathed in the pale light from the forever grieving moon, She would have appeared frozen were it not for the slight upward twitch of Her lips. With all the dignity of a wounded sparrow, you approached Her perch, lowering your head in submission and acceptance should She descend upon you.

"Dearest child, an explanation?"

She needn't utter more, the words having already begun to whittle down any ambition of masking your shortcomings. Having jeopardized a soul, and by extension the balance you'd sworn to retain, even if by mistake, was unforgiveable. It was with tar coating your throat, surely a reflection of your soul, that the words forced their way out.

"I was… Preoccupied," you swallowed as best you could, feeling deception rot your tongue and slur your words, "I only acted in accordance with my oath, I swear it…"

You had to wonder, how much had She already known? How much of the path had been preordained by the very figure now looking down upon you with the eyes of a scolding parent. Briefly, you questioned if Zandik had found himself under such a watchful gaze as well, pursuing what he thought correct while knowing disappointment, at best, was inevitable.

The brief glimmer in Her eyes betrayed that your waver hadn't gone unnoticed, and a hint of dread dispersed the musings as She spoke, "You know this is not enough," and you did, just as her next words were no surprise either, not that it lessened the sting, "your kin grow agitated and I am not immune to their persuasion."

She owed you nothing, and you should give Her everything in turn for being granted life. It was a truth carved into your bones, spun into your destiny - most likely it was the very foundation upon which you existed - and so the thought of failure drove itself between your shoulders and twisted. You had no right to blame a mortal soul for kindling warmth in your chest, not when sympathy was the fuel your own hands had brought in abundance.

"In a-" no, not a lapse of judgement, was it? "A mishap occurred, and I felt compelled to observe until I was certain nothing disastrous would come of it."

Yes. That was it. You did not take life but rekindled it, and the quick solution to the issue had been more than you could bear. Not if something was damaging them every time.

"'A mishap'. Had it not been prudent to request aid and inform me?"

Or had your faith already dimmed too much. The way Her fingers intertwined said it all. The sharp raise of Her brow as well.

You hesitated for a moment, praying it hadn't seeped into your voice, "I didn't deem it necessary to disturb you, Blessed Mother. Forgive me, I misjudged how long I would need-"

"Tell me then, did you give it an end?"

A coy smile played upon Her lips, utterly unfamiliar and vile, eyes further sharpened by the darkness that crept along the corners where the moon was unable to reach. It was gone as fast as it had appeared.

Fearing the sound of the admission, you shook your head, not expecting the single command She uttered.

"Then it appears your vigil has yet to come to an end. Leave no open endings."

There was no trace of appreciation for the way air warped and warmed around your body as you descended, everything muted by the questions that still sat unspoken on your lips. How much transpired behind those molten pools of gold? Every rustle of the breeze as you made for the dunes below whispered that She knew.

'Leave no open endings'

The words nestled under your sternum, sending out little shoots of something that left you breathless and with shaking hands, feeling the urge to lock your fingers around cool metal. You had Her blessing to interfere. No loose endings. No memories. A new beginning was something you were well versed in offering. Even if this felt wrong, Her judgement had to be correct.

Liloupar's embrace was the last place he could recall sleeping peacefully. Dreams had begun to invade his mind over the years as the emancipated populace cried out for aid, the weight of watching as his father refused them any more than the water flowing through their shining city. They had received the freedom they so desired, all been granted the right to chase their own destinies.

Upon reaching adulthood, it wasn't so much the exile that buried itself under his skin, no that had been clear for years from his father's mutterings about fate, but rather how his mother had emerged screaming and fighting with the guards holding her back, 'not another, I can't lose another' her endless cries shaking loose pebbles from the surrounding walls.

Five days had passed in the company of his own thoughts and the scorching sun. His brass mask lay discarded, cooling under the shade of a lonesome palm as he dipped his aching feet into the water. While there were many settlements, the need to put distance between himself and whatever would play out tugged at his limbs.

There was the desire to know, of course, what secrets had been guarded from even him. How did a man once praised for heroic deeds become so entangled in prophesies and speculations that he would throw out his own kin for nothing but a hunch?

'Zandik' had grown certain it had a connection to the vague memories that haunted him. There were mentions of communications between his grandfather and Amon, the possibility for divine wisdom to have passed into the hands of mortals remained present.

Water splashed against his skin, soothing the welts that had formed in places the scorching mask had touched. He had rations for a couple of days after the last trade, enough that he hopefully would not need to put the damnable thing back on before he had healed.

Shifting sand caught his attention, surroundings momentarily a blur as his head turned in alarm, fingers already reaching for the curved sword that would realistically be less than helpful in his hands should a real battle ensue. He held up his free hand to shield from the sun, squinting as they came more properly into view, what fool would be wandering about during noon?

A feathered cloak draped over the stranger's shoulders, an odd choice really. The plumage was too muted to have been plucked from the vultures he knew. Their attire looked entirely foreign yet well kept enough that it seemed unlikely they had been wandering for long. Sword raised in a tentative warning, he saw as their empty hands raised in a placating gesture. His movements faltered for a moment as confusion spread; they weren't carrying any satchels?

"Stay back," he hated how every syllable felt littered with sand, coarse and intrusive in his lungs.

It was a pleasant surprise when they obliged, "I carry no ill intentions, I merely wish to rest for a moment in the shade."

Their voice jolted him, the softness stealing the air from his lungs and sending him stumbling back into the water, only barely catching himself before any truly undignified display could ensue. If the voice was familiar, her eyes were hauntingly so, glittering with pieces the sky coaxed away and set into the sockets. If he looked close enough, would he recognize any of the patterns?

He hadn't even noticed the splash of his weapon slipping into the water, completely forgotten in the face of an uneasy tranquility surrounding the stranger.

No words left his lips, mind racing to figure out why there was such a painful nagging at the back of his skull as he sat back down in the shade, eyes tracking her unnaturally fluid movements with a vacant expression. Nothing moved like that in uneven terrain, not vipers nor scorpions, and certainly not any of the people he had seen.

There was no question in his mind, the certainty in his gut too intense to ignore lest he wanted to regret it forever, the subject would have to be approached, it was only a matter of method. It frustrated him to no end that he knew exactly how it would feel to lay his head in her lap. How it was to awaken to an unchanging sky encircled by lush canopies, soft grass underneath his palms despite never having seen such a paradise realized. Her fingers brushing through his hair and cradling his head close.

Only once the sun had moved several degrees towards the horizon did he breach the tentative peace, "Unusual to travel without supplies," he could only hope the suspicion was concealed enough to not be offensive.

The scorching heat of the sun was nothing compared to the weight of her gaze, in an instant searing through skin and bone to leave him uncomfortably bare.

"I merely carry what I need," a small smile tugged at her lips as they shaped those oddly soothing melodies.

That wasn't useful at all. A slight huff left him before an idea began to circulate; Liloupar always had an empty plate, the stranger could be one of the jinni sent to keep watch over him. How precious. With newfound confidence, he returned her stare with what he hoped to be equal intensity, the urge to laugh making itself known in a flutter upon seeing the way her shoulders rose with tension. This was a path worth pursuing. If she was a jinn, it made sense why there was a familiar feeling blossoming in his chest.

"And you simply don't need food and water?"

A disbelieving scoff left his lips when she gestured towards the clear pool of water in front of them, absolutely ridiculous. His eyes drifted over her form once more, brows furrowing again at the distinct lack of wear. There were no settlements near that she could have just set out from, that was why he'd initially picked this place for rest. More questions pooled in his mouth, frustration building when no reasonable answer presented itself.

"I am not opposed to answering, provided you ask the right questions at the appropriate time," her fond tone had his mind reeling, attempting to pin the source yet gaining nothing but a headache, "I promised to tell you everything in due time."

"You make lofty claims, I'll give you that much." he couldn't keep the sneer out, frustrated with the constant evasion, "do elaborate on the specifics of this promise as I have no recollection of seeing you before."

The faint shimmer outlining her body when he squinted was surely a trick of the light, or perhaps fatigue had finally caught up? Having been confined to luxury for two decades was hardly cause for complaint, but it did leave him uncomfortably vulnerable. Perhaps that had been his father's ploy from the beginning.

"That's not entirely true, is it Zandik? What was it they called you now?"

His twitching hand and sharp inhale betrayed him, heart pounding in his ears as everything froze. There was nothing but the echo filling the air with the same fervor as panic spread from his chest, head shaking vigorously from side to side. No one had known, had they? He'd always kept it to himself, the mere thought of speaking the word causing a disproportionate unease. One he'd chosen to heed anyway. Even her voice did little to clear the tempest now enveloping him.

"I made a mistake, and I do not wish for you to suffer for it."

There was a profound sorrow clinging to the words as she rose, illuminated by the sun she cast a shadow towards him, eyes glowing even as her face was in shadow. It set him off, hands digging into the sand as he thrashed to get up, get away, run, crawl, anything to get away.

[katyspersonal]

Abyss Watchers headcanons

> Them all having white hair and red eyes are the signs of a lot of exposure to the Abyss, like how Four Kings got white hair, people in contact with any darkness commonly show red eyes etc. + Artorias ended up with these features too, and black hair on his helmet was his own hair cut to decorate it, not unlike Ciaran's braid. This never caused the panic though, it is no more than like getting tan under too much sun exposure. The corruption carries different effects than just a bit of a recolor!

> Wolf blood gave them minor feral features, like fangs and tufts of grey fur in the spots where humans normally have the most hair. no tails though

> @val-of-the-north actually counted the corpses using colorful stones drops to not get lost! So, the amount of Abyss Watchers is only barely above 100! This is very little for a legion, but they were pretty strong at their prime so the number never shifted too far from this number

> The ~100 consisted of mostly the first of them and those who joined in early. They were mostly a pack of these people, very rarely losing members and very rarely gaining those who would grow into "true wolves". Even out of those who were accepted as Abyss Watchers rather than Farron Followers, most didn't fully assimilate. They remained visibly 'distinguished' ones, like Hawkwood who never grew to their common 10'00''+ height and so

> These rare new members were referred to as 'cubs'. The 'distinguished' people like Hawkwood were continued to be called so even after they fully trained, although it then had more affectionate connotation than referring to their lack of experience

> They offer people who have shown bravery and are deemed to have true warrior spirit within to come with them, however, it is quite hard to refuse them. It is very easy to get roped into madness by them by simply allowing them to surround the person and speak of the importance of combating the horrors, how Artorias tooooootally once succeeded etc. They do not even understand the nearly-hypnotic effect they possess, but it is explained by the gravity of the Abyss itself surrounding them due to their job. It horrifies, however humans naturally possess the darkness that finds kinship in it, the wish to fight it endlessly IS just one of the ways it entices and corrupts. Those who managed to avoid getting seduced recruited by them after confrontation do recall that something felt very wrong and otherwordly for a short time.

> 'Semi-hivemind' is the best way I can describe them tbh. There is usually a member who is unmistakeably singled out and seemingly 'leading the pack', and if this particular person was lost, the next strongest guy would get singled out instinctively.

> "True" Abyss Watchers hardly, if ever, need to verbally communicate with each other, instead understanding instinctively. When they do need to talk with anyone it is this 'pack leader' doing the talking, usually with some others accompanying him and performing actions if needed without any signals to do so. The 'leader', also, mostly speaks for them all as they share their thoughts and feelings ("Don't try to lie to us, we could always smell it in your blood", "We all remember your bravery", "We could almost feel you wagging your tail, if you had one" etc).

> And they can, in fact, sense more than average person due to the wolf blood! Blood pressure, heartrate, whether someone started sweating and so on. It is very useful when someone is trying to hide having gotten touched by the Abyss (reasonably so, because it is instant death). Or if someone pretends they totally didn't encourage less-infected people to evacuate the corrupted land before Abyss Watchers came to obliterate it.

> The best way to stay alive after being targeted for "mercy-killing" by them is to run into the Church of the Deep. Abyss Watchers are sceptical about 'purifying' ones with minor corruption, but they cannot cross into this territory without permission for several reasons. And so far those whom Deacons "treated" really seemed to be alright. Abyss Watchers didn't believe in efficiency of this method though and had a feeling that sacred body of water could not fit in everyone's even natural darkness, let alone Abyssal one. They absolutely loathe and pity the place though, but all they really could do was to wait to obliterate it when it'd inevitably drown in filth. (the big "told you so" day that never became their to claim lol)

> Anyone who feels attracted to them is under no pressure to kiss and cuddle all of them they're welcomed to try though if they dare lol . They share their feelings, so getting close even with one makes others happy by effect. Though if such things occur, usually it is the 'pack's leader' who claims this experience, let alone the fact he is the only one who will actually talk. But even then, at least several others will linger around

> If one of the "true" Abyss Watchers, the 'identical' ones, gets somehow separated from the rest for significant time, they might slowly reclaim sense of identity and even remember their name. Addiction to fighting the Abyss can't be helped though, so they will yearn to forget the brief moments of peace and rejoin the group

[life-winners-liveblog]

Have some random idiot’s interpretation of life series lore:

Mortals were never ment to roam the voids, yet for some reason they still do.

Few of those who dare enough will we rewarded to. By one of four with extra sense of which to use.

Some watch the voids and the kaleidoscopes with in, the bright stars sparkle yet few shall ever see this. These few robed in purple are very down to earth they fly and watch as mortals play yet still they sit and stay.

Some dare to listen to what’s not heard and find they hear the whispers of wind. Bathed in yellow fire light these people fight the first, helping mortals as they can but some are quite adverse.

Some rare few represented by blue will speak and the voids speak back to them. Their words carry through the air and soon comeback to them.

Finally there are stars of green who feel all that is around them, every tremor and emotion they feel it all outside and within. The vibrations carry through the water and they feel it with a grin.

As for the mortals who they choose they’re really quite diverse. 

First there was a bird like man whom the watchers did approve, so he left his home but felt alone and soon he fled their eyes. Second there was a human who enlisted the listeners help, to free his home from tyranny so he was offered a place in their ranks. Third there was an elf who journeyed far from home the observers hated him so he took refuge in the speakers trickery. Fourth there was a fae who got lost in space and fell into the arms of a wondering feeler, this feel granted her life but turned her into  one too.

Still to this day the most people know is that they tends to share some traits. The watchers seem to be like birds with a connection to the earth, meanwhile however the listeners are compared to bats and the crackling of flames. In the darkest voids the speakers talk and whisper through the air, and in the brightest seas the feelers are mistook for fae.

For now that’s all I have to say on the beings that roam the voids. But take heed for despite your beliefs they have more power than you know.

———/—-

Did I go through the effort of writing free verse poetry? Yes, Yes I did.

That must have been a lot of effort

Wow

[lilacartsmadsion]

Dark Choco Cookie observed the dawn from one of the castle's balconies, the day looking oddly free of snowstorms, as the Dark Cacao Kingdom was a sugar snow filled land

But what called his attention was not actually the dawn itself, but rather the cookie observing the dawn before him

"Father?"

"Hmm? Dark Choco, what are you doing up at this hour? I supposed you'll still be asleep"

"I would say the same to you father, I understand that you're ussually awake and about early, but I didn't knew it would be this early"

"You're right to say I don't ussually stay up at this hour, but I am sure you are awake due to the same reason as I"

"You mean, that feeling? It's feels... ominous... as if something is comming, but I can't tell if it is a bad omen"

"Me neither, that's the reason I decided to go out and observe earlier-"

A sound cut off both cookies chat, it sounded... like fire, like the sound of a wildfire like those that were rarely seen in the kingdom in extreme circumstances, but where more comming in other kingdoms, it was loud, and it felt like hitting both cookies present as well as every other cookie up at that time-

Dark Choco's eyes widened as he looked at the dawn behind his father

"Father! Look!"

Dark Cacao turned around to what could only be described as something massive, a fireball as bright as the dawning sun, approaching at a high speed and the origin of the firey sound

Both cookies could only stare, frozen in place as the bright object grew smaller but not dimmer, flying over their head and landing with a thunderous roar not far from the main gates of the kingdom, scaring a few of the watcher's that were nearby

The father and son duo looked at eachother, their heartbeats ringing on their ears as they took off running

It felt like hours, despite being just minutes, before they arrived at full speed to the landing of the foreign object

As the protector of the kingdom and as the prince, they were the first to approach, ready to assess and dispatch any posible threats

But as they walked carefully and approached the charred place where the object landed, they lost their breath

A child, with burns in a few places of his body and clear dough, was right in the place were the object was supposed to be

And he was breathing

Dark Cacao and his son ran over to the unconscious child, Dark Cacao taking the small child, who looked not older than 10, into his arms and running back to the kingdom, Dark Choco yelling for the medics to make act of presence asap and tend to the child

Questions can wait, they had a child to care for

Oooh niiice!!! ^^

I liked the way Gingerbrave comes in a ball of fire. It’s neat! ^^

[pocket-luv101]

Red Wine

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Tighnari doesn’t understand why Cyno never defends himself when scholars attack him for merely being the General Mahamatra. When he overhears someone insulting Cyno, he can’t contain his anger anymore.

“Those arrogant scholars boast that they’re rational and infallible merely because they couldn’t dream. If that’s true, tell me why they’re always the ones I have to save from feral leopards. They approach dangerous animals as if they’re in a fairy tale and they’re able to befriend them. That’s very illogical to me.” Tighnari complained and drowned his cup of wine. “I don’t know how you’re able to deal with them every day. They must be a headache for you too.”

“I’m the General Mahamatra and it’s my job.” Cyno shrugged. He didn’t add that his work had been more taxing after they rescued the Dendro Archon. Ranting about his job would be a burden to Tighnari when he was already busy with his own work with the Forest Watchers and reforming the sages. To be able to share a drink with him at the end of the day was enough for Cyno. They sat at the bar on the second floor of Lambad’s Tavern.

“You always say that, Cyno. You don’t need to act as the General Mahamatra when it’s just us. Even people who love their work will complain when it becomes stressful. It’s why I invited you out for drinks.” Tighnari flicked his fingers against the cup and the glass rang softly. He felt a little tipsy and his body naturally leaned towards Cyno. He grinned at him and whispered: “I promise I won’t report you to the Matra for any rude comments you make about the Akademiya.”

Cyno chuckled and a subtle smile softened his face. The sight made a flame flicker in Tighnari’s heart. He loved Cyno’s smile but then he thought of how he rarely showed it to others. Tighnari wished that people would be less guarded against Cyno. If they could see Cyno’s virtues and trust him, his work as the General Mahamatra would be easier.

While Tighnari was a student, he would overhear people complain about the Matra and the General Mahamatra. He never understood why. Cyno only acted in the best interest of scholars and protected them from their own folly. Those feelings only grew after he met Cyno and they became friends. He learned how much he cared and that he wasn’t the type to blindly follow the sages. Tighnari fell in love with the man behind the title of General Mahamatra.

“The Yae Publishing House sent me a copy of the latest Genius Invokation novel. They used you as a model for the cover.” Tighnari glanced at Cyno in the corner of his eyes. He was attractive and easily embodied a regal hero. “It must be exciting to be a part of your favourite game. Though, I’m surprised you like the novel when it deviates from the rules and some of the ways he wins are absurd.”

“That’s what makes it interesting. It’s difficult for me to explain. I don’t think anyone should rely on luck or miracles but I believe they can happen. They don’t occur in real life as often as they do in the novel.” Cyno saw how corrupt the world could be—even outside of the Akademiya. His life could never be like a novel but he cherished the peaceful nights he could share with Tighnari.

“It was luck that you were assigned to my case instead of another Matra. Because of that, we were able to meet. This is to luck.” Tighnari lifted his glass and taped it against Cyno’s. “Fukumoto wrote me a letter and requested I be a model for one of his characters. He didn’t tell me the details. Which one do you think I will be?”

They began to discuss the novel and drank wine. Since both of them had the day off tomorrow, they allowed themselves to indulge more than usual. The warmth rising within Tighnari wasn’t from the alcohol or the atmosphere of the tavern. Cyno’s voice had an allure that was far more intoxicating than the wine. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell Cyno that without risking their friendship.

Tighnari was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard plates clatter against wood. He turned towards the noise and saw a group of students sitting in the corner of the room. From their uniform, they were from the Amurta Darshan. Life in the Akademiya could be overwhelming and students would go to Port Ormos or local pubs to escape the pressure.

Then, one of the students slammed his hand on the table. “The Matra confiscated my modified ruin guard and now I won’t be able to complete my graduation thesis in time. I’ll have to repeat the course. Why would the Akademiya give the Matra so much power over researchers when they only know how to shred paper? I bet they haven’t written a single paper before.”

Tighnari’s frown deepened with each word they said and he started to stand. He didn’t expect Cyno to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him back onto his stool. The alcohol made it difficult for Tighnari to regain his balance immediately and he leaned against Cyno. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes before he looked up at him. “Why are you stopping me?”

“Because I don’t want to arrest you for starting a fight with them, Nari. I don’t care what people say about me.” Cyno held him closer when Tighnari glared back at the group. He admired Tighnari’s outspoken personality and his conviction but he didn’t want him to get in trouble for his sake. “You’re drunk. I’ll walk you back to Avidya Forest.”

“I only had two drinks. I’m not a lightweight like Kaveh.” He pouted. A part of him knew that Cyno was right and arguing with the students could escalate. That did nothing to quell the anger boiling in Tighnari though. His hand tightened around his cup until Cyno placed a hand on his shoulder. Cyno ignored the insults scholars threw at him and the Matra for the sake of his work. He had to admit he felt happy that Tighnari would defend him.

He stood and held out his hand to Tighnari. “Let’s head back home before Collei starts to worry.”

“The General Mahamatra is a dumb humanoid fungi.”

Tighnari slammed down his cup and the force shook the plates on the bar. Everyone in the bar turned towards them but Tighnari didn’t shrink away from the confused stares. When Cyno tried to stop him again, he shook off his hand. He marched to the table of students and crossed his arms.

“You have no right to be wearing an Amurta uniform when you clearly have no grasp on the fundamentals in both biology and the Akademiya. The General Mahamatra graduated with better grades than most scholars I know. He has a better understanding in botany than you because he would never use such an insult. Fungi are very intelligent creatures—unlike you. If they’re so smart, you would’ve been able to write a thesis that doesn’t require the General Mahamatra’s corrections.”

Tension filled the air as Tighnari continued to lecture the students. Cyno noticed one reach for a cup and quickly placed himself in front of Tighnari. Even if it was from a simple splash, Cyno instinctively moved to protect him. The students stiffened when they saw the General Mahamatra. He could read the fear in their expression.

“Have you heard of the tavern on the moon? It had good wine but no atmosphere. The moon is out and responsible students shouldn’t be drinking this late. Use this time to write a better thesis paper.” Cyno told a joke to diffuse the situation. Then, he wrapped his arm around Tighnari’s waist and led him towards the stairs. He was grateful that Tighnari followed him without arguing with the students further.

“This is why arrogant scholars irritate me. They act like they know everything and make judgement on people and things they don’t know.” Tighnari grumbled. Cyno took him to a bench outside of the Akademiya where they could be alone. He was more drunk than he thought and the cool air felt refreshing against his flushed skin. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Cyno’s strong shoulder.

His ear brushed against Cyno’s cheek as he tilted his head to look down at him. He studied his face and the moonlight highlighted his soft features. He stopped himself from threading his fingers through his black hair. Cyno told himself that Tighnari was leaning on him more than usual because of the wine. Then, Tighnari opened his eyes and their gaze met. They were close enough for him to count the different shades of green and brown in his eyes.

“I hate when they say those things about you.” Tighnari’s words were slightly slurred. However, his eyes never left Cyno’s. Between the alcohol and how he was on the edge of sleep, his words became more honest. “It’s strange. I want people to see how strong, loyal and moral you are. There’s no one I trust more than you, Cyno. On the other hand, I get jealous at the thought of someone trying to win your heart. Who wouldn’t want to be with someone like you?”

“I won’t leave you.” Cyno whispered into his hair. Then, he added as a joke: “Considering my reputation, I doubt someone will fall in love with me.”

“It could happen. I love you.”

[thehappiestgolucky]

Pawn Behaviors - Beyond the Rift | Fe’gahl

because agira has been around too long and too old to filter how he acts around every arisen he will just leave if he feels like it

here by @arisenreborn

❖ BEHAVIORS & HABITS: 

❖ COMMON: 

Always on the lookout for things. He'll mark point of interests in his mind and try to wait for the best time to inform Arisen about it.

Tends to keep to himself unless spoken to if he hasn’t decided the Arisen he’s helping is chill or not. Not quite forced smile feels - more stands in the group blending in until someone points him out.

People watches the other Pawns and Arisen to start gauging the group feel.

➵ UNCOMMON:

Acts more reactively to interactions of the group the longer he’s with them. While he’s always ready to aid, he’ll start interacting more with general topics if he likes the group dynamic he’s in.

If he finds the Arisen to be decent he’ll be more spoken up about help and passing situations - even throwing his own two cents every now and again.

Occasionally does more dangerous risqué actions that he’s always warning others away from doing - though he’s mulled over the action multiple times before doing it. Most of the time.

➵ RARE:

Usually tolerates Arisen’s if they’re shitty to him because he knows he’ll just leave and go back to his sister. If the Arisen is particularly shitty to the other Pawns though - he’ll do petty small things to piss the Arisen off at him like healing them at the latest possible moment or not healing their poison for ages.

Engage with the regular folk of other worlds. He’s a far more active participant in his world but when he’s hired out he tries to hold his tongue to not cause issues. Can be positive or negative interactions depending on what’s happening.

➵ DRAGONSPLAGUE: 

The goop.

He’s very concerned with strategy and thinking on his feet to get everyone out a situation alive, but plagued it gets thrown out the window and he attacks far more aggressively and heals less frequently.

Even if he isn’t thinking about killing someone his stares goes to a default look of “about to gut you in three seconds”

❖ THOUGHTS & OPINIONS: 

➵ THE ARISEN:

He’s more sympathetic towards the responsibility of being the Arisen, especially as his own journey progresses. When he was a fresh Pawn that could tangibly retain memories of his journey he was more rose tinted about Arisen - but now he tries to keep a more neutral perspective on Arisen outside of Odessa.

He doesn’t go out of his way to be provocative or overtly eager when interacting with other Arisen. He tends to focus more on his job unless it’s an Arisen that he’s encountered before - especially if he likes them. Then he tends to try and break the strictly Pawn interaction and be more alike a friend than helper.

Of course the opposite is true if he ends up being rehired by an Arisen he dislikes. He doubles down on just doing his job and withdraws more.

➵ OTHER PAWNS:

He’s always looking out for them even if they don’t get along with him.

Will willingly put himself at risk for them if he finds them struggling, being targeted etc. It is a calculated risk, and any injuries he obtains through it was a part of those calculations.

In Battahl especially he sticks a bit closer to his fellow Pawns - both because the stares make him insecure and also because he wants to stay on top in case anything goes wrong.

➵ WORLD:

Loves pointing out points of interests! He comments if he’s been to a place before but in a more fond way than exasperated he’s going there again.

A people watcher, he might point out habits he sees or try and understand cultural behaviours. Particularly likes to watch people just doing activities because everyone does it differently and it interest him.

Is particularly fond of the sunset. If there’s a spare chance he’ll sit on the edge to just watch the larger landscape of the world.

➵ BATTLE: 

Always calculated in a fight, focuses on what the best strategy he can implement at the particular time is.

However if a particularly hairy attack is heading towards any of the group he’ll prioritise their immediate safety even if it compromises him for the fight. Yes, he did pick up this habit from Odessa.

Doesn’t like fighting fellow people, and focuses on healing if they get in a fight. If they pick a fight - well their funeral.

Hates hates HATES Gorechimera. Absolutely despises them. Gets aggressive to them even without the plague and hones in on “that thing fucking dies NOW”. He does get really bad at fighting when the group fights one unless they reel him in a bit.

➵ NPC's: 

He’s fond of kids, always hoping they live a full happy life.

Respects Ulrika a lot for putting up with so much shit and still wanting to aid others. Also likes Forayan for similar reasons of putting the village first always even with the old chief rattling on in his ear.

Feels a slight student/mentor like relationship with Beren and Lennart - a lot comes from the fact Odessa dubbed them uncle and he also always appreciates their words and kind actions.

➵ QUESTS: 

Saint of the Slums quest particularly fucked him up for a bit. A healer who was willing to put her patients through pain and suffering, making them worse and holding no regrets of her actions just… messed him up for a while. Being a healer too the very thought of it sickens him to his core - and when Odessa reported back what Elena said (fe’gahl was curious and asked) it really fucked with his thoughts for a while! Maybe a part of him was scared he could turn out like that. A lot of him was disgusted at her abuse of power and carelessness for others.

As a result Lubomir’s death also fucked him up for a bit. He couldn’t help himself from asking Odessa why she just… didn’t let him help the beastren. Odessa had to bring him back to reality that the symptoms would’ve been too foreign and deep for Fe’gahl to understand how to cure them in a short time. He still wishes there was anything he could’ve done for Lubomir - even to ease the pain. It aided in him being more willing to put himself on the line if it meant someone got home to their loved ones.

➵ BONUS: 

He has to remind himself that his Arisen and situation is a unique one. Odessa actively encourages his interaction and he comes to know the world’s people far more personally than Pawns do. The people who talk to him know him and sometimes forget he’s a Pawn.

A lot of the calm dialogue fits Fe’gahl, but usually in a far more playful way. Unless he’s irritated that day and gets snappy at others for being reckless, he’s normally just bantering he knows he’s gonna heal them anyway.

If he’s made a friend with another pawn he acts more like how he is around Odessa which does mean playful bullying and saying random shit that comes into his head.

[popculturebuffet]

Hatchetfield Retrospective: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals: I Mean What The Fuck?

SPOILER WARNING FOR ALL HATCHEFIELD PRODUCTIONS PRE-NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE

CONTENT WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

Hello all you happy people and tonight we're gonna chronicle a story so astronomical, though thankfully not the last remaining story to tell as I celebrate spooky season by kicking off a look at one of the best new horror franchises to pop up. While I took a brief look at this series back in 2020 with the first episode of nightmare time, I think it's time I booked an extended stay in the tiny town of Hatchetfield for a full on retrospective. So get your cups of roasted coffee, pre-order that Tickle Me Wiggly, book your tickets to Watcher World and roll a fatty bowl of Perky's Buds as I take a look at this weird, wonderful world of horror, comedy, showstopping numbers and telling Clivesdale to rightly go fuck itself with the first stop on our tour, the musical that started it all by ironically being about a guy who doesn't much care for them. A Brief History of Starkid and Hatchetifield

So before we get to the horrifying tale of life becoming a musical, we need to look at the weirdos behind the curtain of this wonderful series of plays, zoomcasts and I assume tales Nick Lang shouts to his brother over zoom at 3 in the morning we might see someday, Starkid Productions Aka Team StarKid aka "Aren't those the guys who made that weird harry potter musical?". Most of you are well aware of who they are and their rough history, most of you also likely better than I but since I like to keep these reviews accessible and since some of my audience read whatever I put out regardless of if they gave one pigfart about it going in

It all began at the University of Michigan, GO BLUE! I don't have a connection to it myself but after watching about 80 hours of dead meat you start doing that on reflex. It was here while reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire a nerd by the name of Nick Lang wondered "hey woudln't it be funny if Draco bullied hermione because he liked her" This lead to this group writing the song granger danger, and deciding "Hey this could make a fun musical". Hence a Very Potter Musical was born. Nick asked his buddy Darren Criss to use some of his songs (One from a previous project Little White Lie), which snowballed into Darren both doing a lot of the music and playing Harry Freaking Potter himself.

What was supposed to be a fun goofy side project by a bunch of dedicated nerds became an internet sensation and thus Team StarKid was born, deciding they could keep this going: staging musicals at school then throwing them up online for other nerds. Naturally another Harry Potter musical followed and finding out abotu these and devouring the soundtracks, a twelve years younger and less sad but far more unteitonally creepy towards women me found thees musicals, laughed his ass off and was a fan from that day forward. While I wouldn't watch the next few shows I would listen to the soundtracks and followed starkid for a bit.

While the team would face the setback of Darren moving on to Glee, which I was watched at the time so at least I got to hang on to him even as he hung ont o a show slowly falling off the earth and into it's molten core where the lava men tore ita part piece by piece, it still held firm, moving on to musicals about Sentient Genitals, space bugs wanting to break the status quo, the goddamn batman wanting to be somebody's buddy, Achmed the tiger fucking man, an interquel for star wars that's also an inspiring 80's movie, waking up with mud on your dick and not wanting to do the work today. All were anchored by goofy alternate takes on the characters they were parodying, suprising amoutns of heart, a talented if sometimes shifting crew, and of course Nick Lang, who along with his rarely seen because he shy and now he in kanas brother matt, wrote the musicals and Nick directed a few himself.

So naturally when Nick decided to relocate to LA, in part because some of the troupe like longtime member and certified Chad Joey Richter were already there and likely to shake things up, half the troupe went with him and the other stayed behind, amicably parting ways and with Merdith Stephin, who'd been a big part of things returning with their partner for VHS Christmas Carol later and the upcoming Jangle Ball tour. Sadly they soon lost another member as long time Starkid and sex machine Joe Walker retired from acting. So in a tight spot with half the troupe gone, Nick decided to swing for the fences and thus decided to shift genres slightly: from goofy parody comedy's with heart (and the occasional original), to an intrictatley built shared horror comedy multiverse. After spitballing a lot of ideas for the setting, Hatchetfield was born and three ideas for musicals came out of it mostly formed: Nerdy Prudes Must Die, Black Friday.. and this very one. Despite coming third in ideas, TGWDLM was decided to be the first of the series, to test to see if audiences would take to it with it's accessible premise.

The result.. was a massive hit, ushering in a new era of starkid, fresh fans, and a return to prominence after it dimmed somewhat. Hatchetfield gave the group new life, and over time they've picked up even more members and came out swinging stronger than ever, having done Black Friday the year after, spun the franchise off into the webcast series nightmare time during the height of the pandemic, and now going into it's third musical next year with Nerdy Prudes Must Die. As I write this it's kickstarter is still going and has reached it's goal, but to help the Lang Shang A Langs reach their stretch goal i'm offering you a deal: For every three of you starkids who sends me a screenshot of you either pledging or upping your pledge (I myself can't go over 5) I promise to review another starkid musical at some point beyond the Hatchetfield Series, starting at the back with A Very Potter Musical and going up, and to sweeten the pot if you hit them all i'll also cover the tin can bros productions too. So if you want a lot of nostalgia, cringing and jokes at a Transphobes expense while supporting a work that is very much everything she isn't, my ask box is open.

Hatchetfield means a lot to me: I ran into it in 2020 just as my love of horror was really ramping up, having really loved the trailer for Black Friday and watching TGWDLM first in case I needed to see it. Which you can watch either on their own, their both standalone works but it works better in order given the crowd pops any time something from TGWDLM gets referenced. It got me back into starkid and while I still need to crawl through the massive backlog of shows i've missed, what i've found is wonderful and i've found these wonderful PEIPS have kept going and kept an honest to god comradery and love for one another that's commendable. And it was thanks to that I got to feel that love again. See how these people had grown and gotten even awesome with time as we talk about the man whose name is in the title whose destined to go viral and the waking nightmare he finds himself in. A Story So Astronomical

Before we can open this musical's tummy and get into it's blue guts, we have to get down to brass tacks nad break down what exactly happened here.

TGWDLM is the story of Paul Matthews, an average man living an average life as an office drone in Hatchetfield. He spends his days with Bill, his struggling single dad best friend whose desperate to reconnect with his daughter, Ted, the office walking erection who dosen't seem to get Paul wants nothing to do with him , and Charlotte, a meek and saddeningly frazzled woman whose in a loveless failing marriage to her cop husband , having an affair with Ted to try the fill the void. Working hard for the mildly obnoxious Bill Lumberg impersonator Mr. Davidson, Pauls' only real refuge is Beanies, a local cafe that makes a nice carmel frappe and more importantly to Paul, employs his crush Emma, a cynical barista who hates the place's musical gimmick understandably as while unlike Paul I LOVEEEEEEEEEEE musicals, minimum wage food service jobs are already draining and obnoxious, adding being forced to sing to it no matter how tired you are or obnoxious the customer sounds like my own personal hell.

Also around are a green piece girl who in trying to brush her off Paul pisses off instead, a man in a hurry, and Peter who badly needs his hot chocolate for his low blood sugar. I can relate to peter. Can't wait to properly meet him when I get around to watching Abstinance Camp. Yes folks I'm that behind on Nightmare Time Season 2, you may boo. Soundtrack's dope though.

Things quickly change though when a meteor crash lands on the starlight theater, and the next day in excellent horror fashion Paul slowly notices something… just isn't right, starting with a whole ass group musical number. We'll get to the songs in their own sectoin much like Starkids closest spirtual cousin the muppets, and it soon esclates to being forced to sit there while his boss grins like ti's the ending credits of pearl and tells Paul how he wants his wife to choke him out at night while Paul slowly dies inside in real time.

Paul starts to grasp the implications of everything having turned into a musical and infected everyone, but it takes Emma a moment… till she finds her boss and coworker, now also part of the extradimensional hive mind, poisoning their customers mid-musical number and planning to infect her too. Our heroes barely escape through some human shaped bushes and Emma finally grasps the implications.

They thankfully find other survivors in Bill, Ted and Charlotte, though that's all the good news they have: Downtown's been swarmed and when Charlotte calls her husband for help.. and instead gets a musical number about how their cops and they make sense

Our heroes, like most citzens barely survive their encounter with the cops, scarring them off after Ted brains Sam's brains out of his head with a trash can lid. Needing help and with the hospital being downtown at the heart of the swarm, our heroes instead go to Emma's kooky college instructor Professor Hidgens, the star of the show and a survivalist fringe scientist who foresaw this exact sort of apocalypse and thus built up his estate on the edge of town to be ready for it, including booze. I mean what's an apocalypse if you can't get hammered right? I don't drink but I feel the apocalypse is one of those "code red" situation where even if you don't, you need to get blazed anyway. Liked if Keith David dies. I'm still convinced he's immortal but in a year that's been constantly punching me in the dick via Warner Bros Discovery, i've learned not to take anything for granted.

So Paul and Emma get closer and get all snuglay, Bill threatens to kick Ted in the head, and soon Charlotte makes things far worse after Sam singing the only bad song in the musical at her somehow dosen't make her run screaming but gets her to free him. We then get one of the best as the Hive gets fed up with the soft touch and just plans to murder them all, but in horror rock paper scissors "guy with the gun" beats monster anytime, and Hidgens saves them. Our party ends up having to split as stupid as that sounds as Bill finds out Alice is still in town and in downtown, so he and Paul go to save her, Emma stays behind at Hidge's instince to disect the corpses and Ted stays because wellll

Though he DOES point out there likely isn't an Alice left and this is a suicide mission

And I do mean sad as they find Alice already infected and proceding to sing a whole song about how her dad sucks dirty ass in thunderstorms, how it's his fault she ended up here, and pressing every parental parent button and insecurity bill has. The poor guy reaches for a gun as a result and luckily, Paul, in an incredibly heartbreaking scene, talks his friend out of such.

Unfortunately neither of them in the state they were in thought to WATCH said gun so Bill dies seconds later and it's only the military showing up that prevents Paul from sharing the same fate. While Paul gets a gun butt to the head, Emma gets some MMMMM Drugs and wakes up tied to a chair, with Ted likewise. I mean he's into it but he's gotta be asked first. It's just common courtsey. Turns out Hidgens is on the creatures side.. he's not hived but the idea of a musical seeming utopia where everyone is happy, ther'es no traffic accidents, the trains run on time , is wonderful and plans to lure the aliens here. How he does it is with one of the best piecs in musical theater. We'll again get to that later, but thankfully our heroes manage to escape while the hive is distracted with Hidgens and opens his tummy.

Paul might have a way out though as the Miltary Man he meets is the gruff but loveable and resonable John Macnamara, who works for PEIP, your standard issue extranormal government organization that covers weird shit like this. HIs orders are to murder anyone he sees and let god sort out the corpses, but

And gives Paul an out, especailly after hearing how sweet he is on emma: he has a few hours to grab her, GET TO THE CHOPPA, and escape before they nuke the place as god intented. Well the Judeo-Christian god. The god with a thumb in this pie wants a musical apocalypse.

Paul gets back to the others with the news and allows Ted to come. This goes as badly as you'd expect as Ted tries betraying them and taking the chopper himself

Naturally given this is a horror work, this gets Ted killed by the hive who already have McNamara and a few of his PEIPS by the time he gets there. They sing a very unsbtle and unsettling song while our heroes barely escape.. only to get further proof that Pokey isn't the only god who hates Paul as it turns out the pilot is Hive!Zoey who crashes, leaving Paul as the only thing that MIGHT be able to stop this: Hidge , as reinfieldy as he was, theroized the meteor, the source of the Blue Shit and thus the hive, must be the hive queen. Blowing it up real good might be a good shot

What follows is more soul destruction… seriously when I first watched this only being familiar with the earlier starkid works, I had no idea the emotoinal punch in the scrotum I was in for, as Paul gets infected and has to fight his inner depressiona nd the hive and seemingly wins, blowing up the theater and seemingly the hive.

Emma survives, and is reunited with Paul and is happy.. for about 5 seconds. In a tragic and horrifying twist ending Paul survived, everyone else apparently did too… and Emma is left to scream futilely in horror for help as her fate is left uncertain and the world… is left to be united by a singular voice, who in a deep void far away laughs musically having finally gotten his leading man.

Scary If You Think of the Implications

So you might of noticed with the synopsis the tone of the musical: Nick was very clever here as he likely knew both people coming in from other starkid works and people who came in fresh, like my friend @jess-the-vampire who I got to join the hive here and at least interested in checking out more of Hatchetfield and starkid, Twisted in particular since we're both big into disney and the idea there was an entire number about the guy who showed up all of once to have a tiger bite his ass made her laugh, would expect this to be way goofier than it was. Even I despite spoiling myself on how it ended before I watched it, wasn't prepared.

TGWDLM is still a comedy to it's bones, with both great jokes I remembered vividly from the first time like the ENTIRETY of what do you want paul (I struggled not to loose my damn shit the first time I heard Davidson say he wanted his wife to choke him while he jerked off while Paul prayed for death but death won't come in the background), "Kick your head" (With Corey and Joey absolutely killing me, especially Joey as Ted hams it up to high heaven),Ted's love of workin boys, Working Boys itself, "I'm professor hidgens!' and more, as well as a few I forgot like "I don't want to die in your filthy presbeterian church", Jon's impecable background acting, and "He didn't want to go like this. He wanted to do what he loved: getting choked by his wife while he masturbates!". It's also delightfully meta with every song being some form of standard brand of Musical song, something i'll break down more when we get to the songs themselves.

It strikes a good tone for a horror comedy: the situation is rediculous enough to generate tons of laughs, but also still GENUINELY horrifying and heartwrenching. It dosen't forget it's either. It's not the depth either as character depth is something that dates back to Very Potter which somehow turned Voldermort from pure unrelnting horrifying evil to a guy whose still evil but also struggles with his sexuality and missing his partner. No what catches you off guard, is the horror. With Horror Comedy you can vary a lot. Take the Chucky Franchise for instance. 2 is a horror comedy, but still leans heavier on the horror aspect, with Chucky still taken dead seriously despite now cracking one liners, Bride leans more into the camp and gore, and Seed just went full on insanity and camp with no real horror to be found apart from Chucky's treatment of his own family. You can vary in just how much you have. TGWDLM strikes me as where the franchise is now: it takes itself seriously, but isn't afraid to still throw jokes in there for contrast or just for fun, being dead serious when it needs to be and hilarious when it doesn't, and sometimes mixing the two.

The premise on paper sounds goofy but like Paul says it's when you think of the implications it gets bad and the show does a great job of doing this: When the Hive first shows up in "La Dee Da Day", it's goofy and played for laughs: it' is mildy creepy everyone's acting like it's a musical, but it's mostly funny for Paul's utter confusion, the homeless man talking about how he "used to want to kill them all while high on bath salt zombie drugs snacking on a dead mans face" and even as dark as THAT gets Paul's horrified flat what brings it right back around.

It's only when Charlotte gives a monologue about how sam not sounding like himself in the shower really underved her that it starts to get serious, but the next scene shifts back to comedy.. while uppping the discomfort. Now the Hive is directly trying to convert paul, and while it's done in the most hilarious manner possible, the grin splattered on Davidsons face, the fact he can't remember what he wanted once he stops singing, and the clear instiance of him joining them are unsettling And then.. we get the coffee shop scene. This is why I say it' sby design: the langs knew audience expectations.. .probably figured the horror part woudln't be a true factor here.

Instead what starts being only mildly unsettling (Emma unknowingly singing with what the audeince can tell are hive infected co workers).. only for it to slowly ramp up: they perform complicated manuvers she wasn't ready for and when she tries to quit.. they tel lher she can't.. and then in a cheery monotone explain they POISONED everyone else and gladly sing while several people die aorund them are are reborn with a singular voice. The terror on Emma's face combined with the various patrons going from choking to death to slowly JOINING IN one by one on the how do you do.. it's truly impressive and not being a sfamiliar with the fandom if we haven't talked about how great this scene is before we damn well should.

We get one last respite with show me your hands but from then on the comedy almost never comes from the hive again, something that didn't hit me till just now: the rest of the comedy comes from Sensei Bill, show stopping numbers and other things with only the "All your friends are here" bit in the climax being a hive involved joke. It shows the Hive's slow evolution horrifically as it goes from bumblingly comedic if still horrifying, From here on it WEAPONZIES our heroes despairs hopes and needs: it prays on Charlotte's desperate desire both for her husband to live and for him to actually love her again, turning her. It prays on Bill's love of his daughter to lure him and his difficulties as a parent to utterly destroy him, it uses PEIP and the helicopter to nearly kill emma, uses Paul's last ditch plan to infect him.. and uses him to twist the knife one last time fo rour ending. Every time our heroes have hope the Hive uses it against them, which gets more ingenious when you think about how most horror works, including a lot of the other hatchetfield stories, go: Even if our heroes may loose eventually the ones who survive or at least make it to the end don't give up, keeping going, and use hope, determination and grit to survive. Here the Hive uses that AGAINST them. It's again where the balance is effective: when you stop to think about it, this work is ENTIRELY bleak, but thanks to the comedy you don't. It only hits you later when you have no escape from it, just as our heroes have no escape from The Hive, Pokey.. or themselves.

Production wise TGWDLM is stripped down, and by design: with a new tone, new cast members and a new venue, the StarKids had a lot to work out with this one, so the costumes are the simple kinds they could rent or make cheapley, the effects are minimal, the blue shit very clearly being homeade slime, sam's brain apparently falling out repdatedly during one performance and most other things being pantomimed, and the set is even more so, simply some colored lights on cube.

It works perfectly though: the lack of props in places like typewriters in the helicopter and elsewhere is played ENTIRELY for laughs, and the lack of detail in places like the cups of poisoned coffee or hidgens getting his stomach torn to pieces leaves it to the audeince to imagine just how horrific those things are. Sometimes what you can make a persons mind do can surpass what your budget can, a staple of horror. It's no shock one of Hatchetfields primary influences is the similarly cheap for it's first two instalments evil dead franchise, with Rami's tenants of horror not only guiding the stories here but ending up as part of the cannon later. While StarKid is FAR from strangers of stretching a budget, TGWDLM is easily the second most impressive example of that with only nightmare time, operating on nothing for it's first season as far as I could tell surpassing it. That leaves us with the acting and music, which naturally given Starkid is both a very actorcentric group and a very musical one, need their own sections. The Stars of the Show

Starting with the man whose name is in the title whose destined to go viral , we have Paul Matthews, played by Starkid Newcomer Jon Mattenson. While a fresh face to the StarKid verse Jon to my lack of surprise was a long time stage actor before this, doing a series of one man shows including one I hope someone has video of Shark Tank: The Musical. Given he was performing in Chicago at the time it didn't take long for him to meet future fellow starkids Lauren and Jeff, with Jeff even doing the music for Jon's one man show, which i'm also adding to the "stuff I will do if you help up those backer numbers." So naturally when Starkid needed new members, he was a perfect fit.

Jon instantly feels like he belongs too: it takes a LOT to come into an experienced group and play lead on your first show, even more when your in a musical but do not get to sing until the final act. But by god Jon not only pulls it off but easily commands the entire play. And it's not that everyone else is bad. Far from it, as usual the rest of the StarKids bring it and we'll get to their performances. But as Paul, Jon utterly brings it: Paul is a layered guy being entirely boring and sedate in the office and while a tad awkward with Emma he also manages to be utterly charming, with Jon and Lauren having wonderful chemistry. You get why despite his very thin excuse for coming here and her seeing right through it she likes the guy who doesn't like musicals, and why Paul has friends and quickly becomes the group's surrogate leader: while he's an utterly normal guy, he's a likeable one, one who clearly cares for his friends.. and Ted because he kinda has to. He can be awkward but usually only when really freaked out. It's remarkable just HOW layered this character came off on second watch: first time around I liked Paul but second I fucking loved this guy.

A big part of this is background acting. While it's a common and valuable skill, especially in a comedy, Jon takes it to another level: As Jess pointed out to me every scene with him, every background movement is paul and whether hte's terrified of what's going on around him and worried for his crush's safety or DEEPLY uncomfortable because his boss is talking about jerking off, there's something to dissect and pull from. Jon is just that terrific and actor and I feel despite how talented this troupe is NO ONE else could've played paul like Jon. This is one of those performances only the actor who gave it could give.

And of course his peak is with Let It Out, where Jon effortlessly bounces between the real paul, terrified of both what he's becoming and what it's awakening, and his smiley nightmarish body invader. The effortless switching between the two in face is just mesmerising: you can't look away even if you badly want to as Paul struggles desperatley to defeat himself.. and is loosing. You have to wait the whole musical to hear Jon sing but once he does it's clear he wasn't cast as paul because he wasn't a great singer.. but because he was such a great actor.

Paul as a character is surprisingly deep: as part of the musicals meta commentary on musicals themselves Paul seems to be your typical lead stuck in a dead end situation he needs to dream his way out of. The probelm for the hive and paul himself is he really DOSEN'T know what he wants ,Paul. What he wants to actually DO with his life beyond work in an office job he dosen't seem especially happy at and maybe marry someone. IT's also realistic as Paul as most people struggle with what they really want and most who end up in an office drone job like Paul simply needed a job. And while he seems content working the job and hating musicals, as seen by the fact he still works it in every other relality after this with the only change being actually getting to connect with Emma before the apocalypse hits, one line in "Let It Out" makes it PAINFULLY clear:

"I've Never Been Happy, Wouldn't That Be Nice?

It's easy to see Paul trying to use having a steady job or finding a partner as a patch for the fact he feels deeply unhappy and alone and needs something to help him along. Yet a partner can't fix that for you ,as i've had to learn and said job isn't exactly plesant. Sometimes having depression, and in my case (and possibly pauls as there are signs), autisim, means you try to stave off the encroaching darkness with something, anything to make it better. It dosen't mean Paul CAN'T find enjoyment in his job, he met his best friend and niece there, is clearly on great terms with charlotte and Ted… well okay he has to deal with the constant smells of axe bodyspray and jizz coming from his office but 2/3 ain't bad. And he and Emma do have genuine chemistry. There's a reason their together in the next timeline and all. These aren't bad things and in fact probably hlep, but their a patch to a larger problem. It's telling a planned nightmare time story for him had him fantasies via dream machine that he was an 8 foot antrophormic squirrel living out howard the duck because the only person everyone loved without any strings attached was Peanuts the Hatchetfield Pocket Squirrel

It shows someone with depression can function but that paul probably needs counseling. It also does show his grit though: despite his depression and anxiety, he keeps going, keeps trying and despite hating the genre dosen't stop actually watching Musicals if you look closely. He knows the lyrics to "There You Are" as seen when hidgens makes everyone sing it and has seen Mamma Mia. It's something you fine folks pointed otu and Jon clearly agrees with: while he may not like musicals he dosen't stop trying. Paul is a wonderful character and I hope he gets a happy ending eventually.. or at least that if Nightmare Time ever returns he gets a happy ending for a change.

Next up is EMMMMA! Emma is played by Lauren Lopez, one of the three longtime starkids and has been in every play except one, and that one's a technicality I throw out of her flawless record as Starkid experimented with doing two smaller shows at once, and even as amazingtastic as Lauren is.. she can't clone herself. YET. While she's spent the bulk of Starkid history playing either crossdressing rolls or just plain weird ones, from best boy Draco Malfoy, to a verison of Apu from aladdin that needs to be put down due to clearly having contracted the Motiva virus, to Comissioner Gordon, she had quite the career with her roll in Starship being the only acception I can think of once the shows got started proper.

This would change after Firebringer, her first starring role in a starkid show and since sh'es played usually adult or teenage women. Why?

Maybe Nick and Matt wanted to let her stretch creatively, maybe they just got tired of that bit and wanted to let Lauren try different things. Maybe there's no real reason to it and it's just a thing that happened. I dunno. Maybe i'll be lucky enough to get to ask Lauren herself someday, i'd be honored to interview any starkid past or present.

Point is the transition didn't loosen her timing nor her talent one iota. While I can't speak on her role in firebringer as I haven't seen it yet, I can say Emma is one of her best rolls and they only reason I can't say for certain it's the best is that she somehow equaled herself with the next play and I have no idea wether Emma or Linda is better.

Emma is a complex character at first seemingly like just a jaded minimum wage worker who only seems to like exactly two people in the world: Paul because he's likely the only person she serves all day that seems to treat her like a human being, and Hidgens because he's charming, nice and probably is a fantastic guy to get high with. Like seriously, I bet Hidgens let's her test growing weed in the back of his fancy ass bunker mansion. HFPD is'nt going to come up there, their stretched as is covering Sam's midlife crisis.

She's guarded as hell but yet charming: anyone whose worked minimum wage can tell you it blows and the Langs amazingly perfectly captured what it's like to work that kind of job in your late 20's, working for those who don't respect you and those way younger than you. Throw in your depressoin, anxiety and autisim all swirling to make the frantic pace of food service near impossible and forcing me to get disablity, and it'd basically me be just without spitting in the food or slacking off.

Emma's mostly there to get them to hidgens, have wonderful chemistry with paul and make one liners, but she's still utterly endearing, with Lauren having tons of great deliveries and it being clear this situation is a LOT to pack in, that sure it's funny to watch.. but the sheer stress of it would break anyone.

And while her goal of leaving this town isn't exactly new, her REASON for it and wantin ga weed farm (since it'll be local nation wide soon as she put it and with Biden outright saying he's going after criminal charges for it recently, likely readying to do just that, she fucking called it), are heartbreaking: She was always cynical and not wanting to be caught in her older more succesful family minded sister Jane's shadow, she left… and then refused to come back. And kept doing so…. till FLASH, BANG, Jane…. was in a box and emma came back to mourn her. It sums up death painfully well: that you think you have all the time with a person in the world but sometimes.. it just… it comes up short. Thankfully of the two people i've lost neither were estranged from me but it still hurts not getting to say goodbye and it's clear emma carries a LOT of guilt and thus decided to make something of her life before it was gone.

Jane's death is also a masterful example of stealth setup. It's what i'm now calling when something is setup for later in a franchise or series, but it's not obvious at the time. It's something you likely want expanded but don't realize the creators not only plan to but always did. When watching this even KNOWING Black Friday was a coming I just didn't think that Emma's brother in law would end up not only being a main character but someone who'd help really solidify hatchetfield as a setting. Nor that he'd be played by Dumbledore but that was just pure luck. Nor that he'd end up fucking his wife's ghost possessing a car via the cupholders.

Strange times. Emma is perfectly played, being snarky and standofish as usual at times, utterly sweet with paul, and naturally terrified with any. And while Jon is clearly the background acting mvp here, Lauren deserves props for Emma's combination of horror and "what the fuck am i watching" during Workin boys"

Next up we have Ted.

Ted is played by my boy Joey Richter, another Starkid long timer and while he's missed a few more shows than his fiance, he's still one of their MVP's, starting as a headbanded Ron Weasley broing it out with harry and becoming over time a starship ranger, a kid who talks to his sentient penis, and of course his finest hour, about TWENTY diffrent rolls in the Trail To Oregon. That's not hyperbole: due to the play's stripped down cast, there were only 6 actors (The others being Lauren, Merdeith stephin whose not in this play nor a full time member of the group, though they did come back for A VHS Christmas Carol, Jeff Blim,Jamie Lynn Beatty and Corey Dorris in his best roll to date), and the other 5 were all mains with Jamie having a very small second part and Corey having a sizeable one. In contrast Joey had to play EVERY. OTHER. PART. Which included one song, independence, that was him taking on about 15 diffrent rolls, and had a rapid fire bit, and the role of main villian mcdoon, getting one of his best songs in Wagon on Fire as Result. The man is a fucking god and I hope he and Lauren are very happy together, having been together for years but only gone public with it two years ago to announce their engagment. Given the fandom had been shipping them, not their characters THEM, since AVPM the squee could be heard from the red planet mars.

So i'ts no shock Joey kills it as the office's walking erection, wearing his now trademark mustache, something he's worn in most roles since to the point many assumed he wouldn't be taking over as Peter in NPMD apparently.. forgetting you know.. shaving's a thing. Jeff Blim's shaved and that likely took 80 razors and the will of mighty thor himself to get done.

Joey just has the perfect smarmy accent for ted, one I can't place but juts fits him so well and while being the standard "survivior who no one really likes and is waiting for to die" Joey's charm and charisma make him tolerable and enjoyable. It helps he's not USELESS. While he does betray our heroes for his own selfish needs later, bastard and all, he doe smake some good if dickish points, trying to get Charlotte to see that her husband is well and truly gone (even if it's to sleep with her) and pointing out that Alice is likely already dead and saving her is a suicide mission, which it sadly was. His putting it in the most dickish way possible means it never really takes, but it's nice to show that as much of a bastard as he is, ted isn't entirley useless. His utter glee when watching Workin Boys is also one of the funniest things i've seen in a StarKid production or really in general. He's as into it as we are.

Next up is poor Charlotte, played by Jamie Lynn Beatty. Jamie has played a nice variety of rolls for the team, as shown with her rolls after this playing a basement dweller and the oliva newton john style Ghost of Christmas Past, but has a niche at times playing sad eyed woobies. Jamie's utterly expressive eyes really help. Charlotte is a throughly sad, throughly tragic character, a woman whose clearly still only with her hubsand due to a combination of badly trying to make it work when it's clear Sam, whose cheating on her with Zoey and god knows who else, has long since checked out and stays married to her because

And because she's throughly religious, being presbetarian, and thus refuses a divorce despite cheating on Sam to fill the void, said void only being filled by bastards like Ted. It's part of why I badly want a nightmare time focusing on Charlotte, as the poor woman needs a hug, not to have her zombie husband gaslight her into letting him go then make her one of them. That said the Hive charlotte is fucking awesome, and the high note Jamie hits on "Join Us and Die" is one for the ages. It was hard seeing Charlotte's pain again and knowing it does not nor it never will end well for her.

That said there is an elephant in the room with Jamie and i'm jsut going to adress it now: she's weirdly NEVER gotten a lead roll in any of the hatchefield musicals, and her only nightmare time focusing on her was as the villians. Given how the rest of the main cast of TGDWLM has all gotten an episode a piece (most within season one no less), and that even Melissa recently got one in a fundraising livestream (that I haven't seen but is apparently bonkers), it feels weird though I don't doubt that they've TRIED to do a charlotte story, even announcing one was planned for season 2. It just might not have worked out yet. Hopefully in the future we'll get to see Jamie in the front.

Next up to bat Corey Dorris, my guy. Corey isn't from the very FIRST starkid show, but he's still a UM graduate, GO BLUE!, see I told you it was automatic and showed up as early as Me and My Dick, which again I have to reassure some of you does in fact exist. Fun Fact: it was written about Joey's friendship wth Darren Criss. So yes had we gotten luckier on of Darren Criss' earliest credits would've been a walking talking penis. Your welcome for now knowing that. Point is Corey has been there a long time and the hatchetfield era has seen a thankful up in his promience, going from primarly playing side roles iwth the exception of his great run as Grandpa in trail to oregon even if he had to wake up with blood on his dick and he didn't even know where it came from, to getting either main cast rolls or outright starring turns, as seen with Nightmare Time's "Watcher World" and "Daddy". He's also the troupes longest standing black member, and this era has seen the Langs try to diversify more, with longtime Coregrapher James Tolbert getting bumped up to the cast and hiring Bryce Charles as for Nightmare Time 2, as well as adding the Bisexual Mariah Rose Faith with this musical, the gay Tolbert, and the non-binary Jae Hughes in their respective works. Not a fact I really needed to go out of my way for but I appricate even a small operation like this taking steps to actually open up.

Corey is unsuprsingly fantastic as bill, playing a hilaroiusly awkward dopey dad, but a realistic one: he's not say homer simpson…

He genuinely clearly loves Alice, tries to look out for her and is supportive of her sexuality, which I know is a low bar to clear but I do think it's nice that Alice's sexuality is just a casual thing rather than a source of drama both here and in a spirtual sequel to the duo's plotline here in Watcher World. The issue is a combination of Bill's currently unamed and unseen ex coming off like this (Gem homer)

When it comes to her budget for trying to win their daughters love, and Bill not knowing how to handle Alice clearly putting some distance between them. The fact Bill really dosen't like Alice's girlfriend Deb and thought it was REMOTELY a good idea to admit it and try to prop up Grace Chastity, another great bit of setup for later musicals, as the ideal instead. One of the few weaknesses of these two is that we don't really get to dive into who they are or why their like this or see Alice as more than just a mildly rebelious teen before she's infected. We get SOME insight with Not Your Seed but it's left deliberately ambiguous what's a lie to get bill to break and what's a painful truth. For the record I think her wanting to live with him and the why does it hurt to love you monologues have some kernel of truth, with the latter being amplified to really harm bill, while "Your right about deb she's a hardcore stoner" is a very obvious lie. IT's part of how brilliant the number and the hives tactics there are: you don't know what it's making up to feed on bill's pain and insecurity, and what's actually true feelings alice had simply amped up to do the screen. Bill gets plenty, but we only see their conflict with each other from his side.

While it is mildly weak though.. I do think it dosen't harm the show as it feels intentional: we only see bill's side.. and that makes Not Your Seed more troubling as we genuinely DIDN'T know till watcher world how the conflict actually worked and never get to thanks to Alice being taken by the hive. We don't know how much Bill blaming himself for the fight that lead to Alice not going back to clivesdale and seeing Deb instead was or if Deb really did do more drugs despite stopping Alice from getting in with the smoke club, aka Joey and Lauren miming three cigarettes at once because their the best. We don't know what's true and what's not or if they coudl've fixed things and thanks to this tragedy we never will. All we know is Bill feels guitly for letting the divorcce happen, for letting his wife take her and for failing to be the dad he wants to be, and that's all the hive needs to seal his doom. It's the point I made: bill can be a dumbass, but any parent can fuck up or simply have problems with thir kid that aren't their fault and the tragedy here is what woul dbe an easily reconcilable fight turned into the death of two people who deserved a happier ending. Thankfully the Langs clearly saw the potetial in the two and thus we get Watcher World with nightmare time. So it's hard to be mad at this for not fleshing them out when it happened later and even in context it's kind of the point.

Finally for our core characters we have Professor Hidgens. Hidgens is played by Robert Manion, aka the elephant in the room. Robert joined starkid breifly for twisted but fully joined and was embraced by the community with this show and it's easy to see why. I will have plenty of praise for his performances here and in Black Friday and Nightmare Time Season 1. It can't be avoided. But neither can the truth: Robert was suspended from the group a year ago, as he'd harassed a member of the band via text and to the langs credit once again, they took it dead seriously, not only bringing in an HR Rep to have an outside perspective and a professoinal to handle this, but suspended Robert… with only WEEKS till Nightmare Time 2, forcing Nick to play Professor Hidgens, and Peter aka Hot Chocolate Boy, while Joey took over as ethan and will be taking over as Peter for Nerdy Prudes Must die. Nick has said he will be allowed to come back both after a resonable time period and taking proper undisclosed steps and so far that period has stretched over a year and into next given the NPMD recasting. If he'll return I do not know and the most I can give RObert for his jackassery.. is that he genuinely apologized, didn't get defensive and is taking his fully deserved supsension with grace and humility instead of whining like a baby that his actions have consequences. Again VERY low bar to clear but given how most harassers and abusers seen in media refuse to admit they did anything wrong or pull a louis ck and do do that but then show up not a year later and act like they still deserve a career. I'll take that.

So very ugly actions aside.. Robert is phenomial as hidgens, giving hi ma rex harrison voice, and somehow making you feel he's an old man depsite being the youngest of the team at the time. He's hammy, hilarious and goofy, being every old man who saw this coming cliche rolled into one turtleneck and neat coat and he's already a faviorite from the start from "Nice try but i'm professor hidgens" to his attempt to get laughs at his charoltte-tan pun, to "You bet your ass we got booze'

But of course where Hidgens/Manion really shines.. is Show Stoppin Number. Good god. I'll gush about the number later but the reveal that Hidgens is actually on the hive's side, a fan of musicals and has his own terrible musical about his 6 boyfriends , Workin Boys: A New Musical that turns out is a transparent parody of a failed broadway musical with basically the same premise from a guy the langs went to school with at UM, Go Blue. Again gotta save this for the music portion as much as it hurts, but god he's brilliant in that moment. The only real flaw is that Hidge's heel turn comes out of goddamn nowhere with no foreshadowing and even then like with Bill, it's pivoted by the fact that it coming out of nowhere makes it more funny and suprising. It's no wonder the fandom took to robert.. and I sincerly hope he's GENUINE in taking the steps to atone for his actions.

Before we can get to our final two cast members, both playing multiple parts, we have to talk about our antagonist: the Hive. The Hive has no main host, thus no actor to break down, being played by EVERYONE in the company at at least one ponit. Even Lauren, who plays the only speaking character who never gets infected, still has a role in the background of la de da day as one of the infected.

The Hive is a masterful antagonist and thankfully unlike some horror villians like Micheal Meyers, finding out more about it later via Nightmare Time 2 didn't diminish it much. It works on it's own as this mysterious force that slowly but surely infects people and goes through a clear evolution in tactics and method. It's first phase of attempts don't exactly come off forceful, but still have some logic: singing as a group in La Dee Da Day is to attempt to get people to follow along, which clearly worked for a lot of people, while they manage to take all but three of CCRP's employees simply by having Davidson work on them one at a time with ONLY paul resisting. They lack finesse, as seen by the fact neither works on paul and their as subtle as Mr. Davidson's need for his wife to choke him out at night, but they clearly worked on a LOT of people.

The next step is force, but even then they don't go full on slasher YET, instead simply using cunning, poisoning a few cups of coffee, then spreading to the police. THey don't know HOW to use this autority, it's hilarious in hindsight knowing that a centuries old entity REALLY dosen't know how cops work at all, but it's clear their starting to learn. It's almost as if this is the first time Pokey has done this, or that the distance between this reality and the black and white mean that he has to relearn stuff he knows. or he's just such a self obessed diva that he forgets this kind of stuff out of habit, with his scheme in "Yellow Jacket" only being so streamlined because he had one target in mind and someone so important to hatchtefield as a whole that he CAN'T forget them no matter how self absorbed he is.

As for who Pokey is for the untiated as i've put it off long enough, Pokey IS the hive. He is Pokotho, The Singular Voice, one of the lords of the black and white, five eldrich abominations each represented by a cuddly toy and cutsey nickname, likely inspired by what seems to be their leader, Wiggly. The Lords are the cause of the weirdness in hatchefield and thus each timeline, and often the world's end, either directly via their machenations and various servants, or indirectly as it's implied there presence is why the local witchwood is so bizzare and why the various bits of messed up shit that happen in each timeline happen. They largely operate on their own and have their own goals, but can be invoked as a group as part of various bargins with some in hatchetfield.

As you can probably gather this all comes from later in the timeline: The Black and White gets introduced next play as does the first Lord we meet face to face, Wiggly, and Nightmare Time would introduce the rest, all 5 getting a cameo in the final story, and each brother getting a story to themselves with Blinky and Tinky getting introduced in season 1, Nibbly in season 2 and Pokey getting properly reintroduced and fully confirmed as the Hive in the same seasons finale.

From what I can tell Pokey isn't all that diffrent between incarnations, and uses the Meteor as a medium, having it crash here and scientest extracting the blue shit from it in "yellow jacket" leading to him getting an avatar they created there. It also offers some insight that isn't suprising as we're told by a figure I won't introduce JUST yet for those juts tuning in that "he hates every voice but his own. And you can tell: while he tries to be nice to Pokey ANYTHING but his voice , his version of a person is anthemea. It explains why he's so ungodly cruel when he really gets going, gleefully using Charlotte's dead husband and bill's dead daughter to manipulate them and instead of just jumping emma as soon as he got the chance since he clearly had a number of hosts ready, teasing her with the idea Paul's alive. To him defying his will, his voice is worse: the only happiness is in the hive, wtih him. He'll give you what you want sure.. but at the cost of who you are because to him that's all that matters. It's likely why his medium's more limited than his brothers, who seem to have an easier time reaching otu: it's likely none of them want to give him the faintest chance of enough power to take them on and given he's the only lord to have outright taken a world, their fear isn't unujustified.

It's what makes Pokey so terrifying: They seem to want what's best for humanity.. but see a complete lack of will from anything but itself as best. Nothing will stop it, there's no depths it won't sink to torture you, and you WILL be part of the hive. I've always felt the best horror villians are one with a bit of personality and Pokey hits that itch like a bullseye. He's operatic, selfish and nightmarish, being a primadonna director with the goey face of an elder god who you can't bargin with. Just give up your choice. He dosen't feel overpowered becfause while abbsurdly powerful, the horror comes from the fact that they MIGHT have been able to stop him at a few hosts.. but by the time they realize it he's won and the rest of the musical comes off as him just playing with his food. A clever unstoppable meance that chills you to the bone and is remarkably well written given half a dozen people play him, yet all play him consitent, with the same chilling instance on being the singular voice. One being, dozens of bodies, no escape.

So speaking of dozens of bodies we're on to our other ingenue, our newest addition and one who like the other remaning cast members plays a bunch of extra rolls, Mariah Rose Faith Castiles, just the first three at the time of this as she's since married. She's a wonderful, kind person and a clear talent that fit right in. She's also like Jon heavily tied to this franchise having only missed one show, Black Friday due to getting a part in Mean Girls, something that was sad but also good for her. The Pandemic meant she was avaliable for Nightmare Time and after quitting the tour due to her anxiety she's back for NPD and we're glad to have her.

Mariah plays four roles in this one: Melissa, CCRP's receptionist who has a crush on Paul and dosen't show up much, Zoey, Emma's bratty coworker whose having an affair with sam, Alice, Bill's Daughter and Greenpeace girl, a GP volunteer who paul pisses off by trying to brush off. Since 3/4 of these characters show up hived on screen she spends most of her screentime as the Hive and does a terrific job, being jolly yet clearly off in La Dee Da Day, creepily monotone in cup of poison coffee nad finally heartbreakingly nightmarish as Alice, as she uses every insecurity bill has to tear the poor guy apart. She gets a truly great scene as Hive!Zoey to oas our heroes almost escape only to reveal nope, hive's flying the plane. It's no wonder Nick wanted her to play the lead as Lex next time, and she got her chance with Nerdy Prudes Must Die as Stephanie… and as fate would have it Grace Chasity , her co-lead is played by Angela Giratina, her replacement as Lex and as has become clear via streams and the Yellow Jacket music vidoew, a now good friend in real life which I find as strange as I do sweet.

Finally for cast introductions we have Jeff Motherfucking Blim, my boy. who with this muiscla finally got to use his now iconic unshaven coked out jesus look on screen. This is how I met Jeff but he'd been around a while: When Joey coudln't do Holy Musical Batman!, Jeff stepped in as Sweet Tooth, and hammed it up so hard he earned a permeannt spot with the group, going on to play the best version of ALaddin. What would lead to his rise here though was the Trail To Oregon, an orgen trail spoff he wrote and wrote the music for. So with former music makers Talk Fine moving on to do their own stuff, Jeff was the natural choice to step in as Starkid's prime music meister, with Talk Fine head Clark Backstresser only stepping back in for a VHS chrismtas Carol. Hatchetfield feels almost as much Jeff's baby as it does Nick and Matt's, and he really gets to flex his musical muscles with this franchise getting even better with each production.

We'll talk more about his music in a moment but as an actor, Jeff is fucking hinged, having a great habbit for ham, hilarity and looking abosltuely nuts in the best way possible. Case in point while he does a good Bill Lundberg as Mr. Davidson before he gets infected, post infectoin Davidson is one of the best things i've ever seen, a perpetual creepy yet hilarious smile, an inablity to show a woman's curves without having 8 of them, and jolliy telling Paul to stay whlie he tells his wife he wants her to choke him while he jerks off. The musical plays to his strengths, with Sam being likewise unhinged if not as smily , getting to ham it up with terrible love song you tied up my heart, and while he's more calm as Col John Mcnamar of PEIP, a secret orignation against the parnormal, he's still hammy, gladly throwing jon's phone before iconicallyt elling him to wear a watch instead of just… you know.. not destroying his property and only means of calling his friends. I get something as important as time deserves it's own device but still man. He's had a hell of a day. He also does a chilling job with the very heavy "America is Great Again", proving the guy can be chilling when needed.. something we'll see all too well when we get to Nightmare Time.

So with that we're down to the various other roles played by the rest of the cast. Manion's other major roll is Hot Chcolate Boy, aka Peter. He's a delight, Emma's Boss, she's really fogerattble other than, since the Langs likely realized "Shit charlotte is dead", the "All your best friends are here" gag in the starlight showdown, A Homeless man who will be vastly important, utterly steals la de da day, and freaks paul out expertly and of course future star of Hatchetfield Man in a Hurry. He was written to just say "i'm in a hurry" in the script but Jeff eventually just kept brushing past so much that he was brought back for black friday and flanderized from just some uncaring jackass with a scarf and a trench coat who keeps showing up places you REALLY shoudln't go to when your in a hurry. We are truly blessed for that. So that leads us to one of the most important and vital parts of Starkid and this show, the Music. Show Stoppin Numbers

The soundtrack for TGWDLM is postively packed. As i've made clear there's only one song I really DON'T like on the whole soundtrack and we'll get to it. The gimmick of it all being the hive gives things a unique vibe with the music not being our heroes inner yearnings but a sign shits about to get bad. While this isn't Jeff's first kickass starkid score it's the one that really showed what he can do, trapsing all around genres and theater standard types of songs to make this catchy earwormy soundtrack.

The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is our title track and gets us going out of the gate. It's omnious as it goes on much like the musical, with the Hive going from talking up how great musicals are and how great.. to asking "should we kill him? Should we kill him?" for paul not wanting to sing and dance with them all, and calling him a bitch, an ass and a cuck (not a cock like I thoguht for some time), for not joining in their singing season. The part where paul dosen't show up on queue is also fucking gold. Music wise it's lively a true all timer of an opening number Faviorite Part: Joey's "But tonight we're gonna chroncile a story so astronomical!" just the way he says it is so perfectly hammy.

La Dee Da Day is a great parody of those big showy crowd numbers musicals have, being a great one in it's own right…j while parodying the usual cheerfulness of that sort of thing with how unnerving it comes off for poor paul and of course the homeless man… who "used to want to kill them all while high on bathsalt zombie drugs snacking on a dead mans face", with small horrible implicatoins hidden from the GPG throwing "my old skin away" to how "a song takes all the pain away" for the old homeless man meaning evne if the hive puppets can FEEL the pain it uses them anyway. ti's nicely done Best Part: Gave a clue but as you can probably guess the Homeless Man's horrifying yet hilarous rant. The only downgrade for the soundtrack version is Paul's confused "What" is missing, which I fell really completes the joke. as does Joey getting entirely up in his face as he gets more intense.

THen of course we get one of my faviorite numbers and performances: What Do You Want Paul? This is where I fell in love with Jeff Blim folks, as his giant horrifying smile during the whole thing is one of the funniest goddamn things mankind has ever created. Making an I want song into a song about how someone wants the main protagnist to want like an I want song is fucking brilliant and is every bit as hilaroius as it sounds. Pauls utter confusion and horror the whole time, especially once we get to "I want you to choke me out at night" is hilarious. Speaking of which that is one of the funniest things Team StarKid has EVER done. I mean it. The sudden pivot to that, Jon's perfectly timed discomfort and just how beautifully and straightlaced Jeff holds it, as well as his offhand "if you leave your fired" to paul… i'm tearing up laughing NOW just thinking about it. It's one of only two songs that I went back to. Best Part: "I want you to choke me while I jerk off", both for Paul's reaction of who is this for and just for being one of the most excellent comedic swerves starkid has ever done.

Cup of Roasted/Poison Coffee is fine. It's mildly annoying but it feels like the point, that it's SUPPOSED to be the annoying half assed kind of jingle Beanies would have.. and makes it that much more horrifying when we get the Poisoned version, and the hey mr buisness how do you do as the newley hived corpses join in. Chilling. Best Part: Again the hey mr buisness part after all those people what get murdered.

Show Me Your Hands is another comedic goldmine. It not only feels like subtle commentary on the police ("WE make sense") but is packed with great ham from jeff, great deadpan from mariah and robert frigging breakdancing. It comes off like a bunch of 12 year olds playing cops in the bodies of actual cops.. which might be a good nightmare time story down the line Langs. You can have it for free. Best Part: "Your cat is dead". Just the delivery alone is enough. Thank you so much Mariah.

You Tied Up My heart

Yeah as i've made no secret of I hate this fucking thing. In concept it's not bad, a cheesy love ballad that's the hive tricking charlotte and look, Jeff's music and vocals are fine. But with the both obvious solution, the seriousness of what he's doing, and just the sheer length this thing wears on you. What should be horrifying, the hive gaslighting charlotte becomes an endurance test. It's also baffling as Jeff did an absolute banger of a ballad "When the World's At Stake" for Trail to Oregon so I don't know what happened here. I'm more baffled because he can do better. It's not even god awful, it's just.. not good. Best Part: That shriek of "Charlotte!". It's the one thing about the song I can compliment

Join Us and Die is thankfully 800 times better, giving Jamie a chance to fucking belt it and being an acting ending powerhouse. Like the songs before that thing that happened, ti's comedy packed, the last bit about beating up Ted styled like "Bop It" is fucking magical. A truly electric villian song Best Part: "it is time to dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" I love that woman, how she did that I don't know but holy shit.

Not Your Seed is fucking incredible. While Mariah got to sing before and got a bit of a showcase with La De Da Day, here she REALLY gets to show how impressive her voice and acting are. Not Your Seed is just 2 and a half brilliant minutes of Mariah absolutely killing it on the stage, and utterly shredding poor bill to pieces. The slow pacing only drags out the pain for bill and feels delebrate, like Pokey WANTED this to fucking hurt him for as long as possible for surviving this long, to make Paul WATCH for his defiance as Pokey broke his best friend. Especially "you let me out of your sight for one second" just the rapid delivery of that and "didn't you know I wanted to live with you" hit like a fucking truck. She's the top. Look What Happens Nightmare Time would also give us the series definitive cords and the title for it's anthology show. Nicely done Best Part: Very fucking hard. Mariah does not make this easy. But Why Does It Hurt To Love you gets me as it's this sudden, painful, and probably HONEST, taking Alice's real emotions break that REALLY guts you and sadly poor bill. Thankfully not literally. As tragic as that headshot was at least it was quick.

Show Stopping Number has the thankfless task of following up one of the shows best numbers.. so naturally it's also one of the shows best and what's become it's signature piece. Robert fucking owns the stage as hidgens, first with the slower tunes leading in..a nd then with the falsetto switch when he decides to intro Workin Boys. Just the shift from the old man voice which is still BEAUTIFULLY sung in a crooner bing crosbyish style to Robert's more natural register… how are this man's lungs human? I shoudlnt' have to tell you returning starkids that Workin Boys is one of the best jokes ever crafted, from being a clear pisstake on Glory Days (something I didn't know but somehow makes it funnier once you do, as Glory Days is every bit as prentious, stupid and nostalgia baity as WOrkin Boys from the looks of it), to Roberts great dance moves (coregraphed by lauren) to the great hook of "five o clock can't come soon enough". IT's fucking magic. i may have.. complicated feeligns about robert I already talked about at lenght, btu I can't deny workin boys is great nor that i'm excited for the short film, which I hope gets released publicly in some form. The first song already has me hyped. And yes there's a short film: MANY people wanted Workin Boys to be a full musical which while understandable wasn't something that would really work given it was deisgnd to be a parody, hence instead compromising with a short ABOUT Hidgens actually getting to make it as part of Black Friday's backer goals. Best Part: BUISNESS CALLS I'M UP TO MY ASS IN SHIT, WHAT IS THIS BUISNESS. I mean that entire part, including the phone call desreves it but i'm calling out the sudden shift and hte hilaroity of that first line itself. I'm not entirley convinced that this was salvaged from them TRYING to make a full on parody of glory days at some point.

America is Great Again gets a bad wrap as i've seen it shockingly low on several hatchetfield ranking lists on youtube and along with John's other song, which we'll get to I feel is underrated. It's a chilling song and while it's politics are welded to it's sleeves, given the Langs had a friend outright quit to become a lawyer over the election , it's clear it REALLY hit them hard. And frankly as MANY bros tend to forget, Poltics and political satire are baked into horror. So while it's in your face about it's critques of trumpisim (The loud has become the strong).. it's not exactly wrong. The you can't run and easily disposed parts espcially given the kind of legslation put on women's bodies and LBGTQ+ peoples lately and general hostility to anyone diffrent period. The fact this hasn't gone away with the election really just makes this song hold up that much more. Best Part: The Final Solution onward. Just how horrifying it is mixed with Jeff's ham.. perfect.

So we've come to my faviorite song, Let It Out. This song is pure brilliance as is the staging, with the hive all on the fringes urging paul to let it out because they know their victory isn't not a matter of how but a matter of when. Of course the man treat and the thing tha tbrings this is Jon Mattensons' performance, effortlessly switching between paul and the hive, going from pained horror to having a smile painted on his soul like it was nothing. It shows in the voice, with paul's panicked speech constrated with the hvie's plastic singing and when Paul does sing he's barely there. it's one of the best horror freakouts i've ever seen, and trust me that threeshold is vast and expansive. The ending shout of "I don't like musicals' is badass.. and sadly futile as his fate

Is "Ineveitble", our final soong and a nice cruel twist on big splashy finales. Most musical finales , those that end happy anyway are about lifting you up, really reving you up as you get out of the theater and giving you hope for tommorow. Even pretty grim works like "Spring Awakening" can end on a nope of hope. This one? Nah. This one takes your heart and smashes to bit, forcing you, much like emma to watch as a puppeteered paul sings several even more warped version osf the score at her while trying to convince her that the horrible monster she's been fighting is a good thing and that the world became "peaceful and just". It's truly haunting and sadly catchy as hell so we're pretty much fucked i'd say. Watching emma run around desperate to escape as it's clear ther eisn't, i'ts at ruly chilling way to end a truly excellent musical.

So thus we close a curtain on one Hatchetfield. If all goes well I'll be covering Black Friday next month , then possibly taking a break for december before getting into nightmare time next year. This could change as when push comes to shove to feed the hive that is my bank account I HAVE to proritze the reviews I do on comission, but i intend to try my damdenst to get the review out around the actual black friday. I hope you all enjoyed this as it was a LOT to get done, but it was a true labor of love. This is one of my faviorite musicals and I was glad to dig through it with a fine toothed comb and I can only hope a few years after it's release my analysis isn't too played out. Stick around if you enjoyed this for more reviews, don't be afraid to reblog it or join my patreon to help keep this blog going, and thank you once again so much for reading. I'll see you in line for a Tickle Me Wiggly.

[enigmatist17]

The world came back in bits, flashes of color breaking through the white haze that had overwhelmed his senses when the bloody chip in his head fired off. He can't really remember what set it off in the first place, but can feel pain blossoming from several points all over his body, so it was clear he'd been attacked.

Oh, wait.

A bar, some men harassing a woman, and Spike stepping in with good intentions. He'd failed to notice two other men until they'd attacked, the chip preventing the vampire from fighting back or defending himself as he was beaten into submission. At least the bint who'd caused it all got away, so there was at least one mark in the white hat column for him.

The alley he had been in felt kind of soft under his shattered bones, and it took a long minute for the vampire to realize he was inside somewhere and on a bed. Oh, Spike doesn't remember getting up and going somewhere, but he'll take what little he can get these days, and gladly surrenders to oblivion.

He wakes once again to find himself feeding, the blood soothing the hunger he'd had constantly ever since the Initiative had used him for a sodding lab rat. While it's not the blood of a sire, something Spike hadn't tasted in several lifetimes, whoever was taking the time to feed Spike was clearly part of the Aurelian line and a fair bit older than himself. He lets out a soft snarl when he's pulled away from the source of the blood, annoyed when he can hear a chuckle somewhere to his left.

"You'll have more soon, don't worry."

What the?

Spike doesn't have the energy to open his eyes or speak, drifting back into sleep to the feeling of bone and tissue knitting back together. The next time he wakes, he's able to open his eyes and sit up, but he growls at the memory of being bested by bloody humans as he looks around the room he is in, sitting up slowly as he tests his limbs.

"Finally, he wakes."

"Penn?" The elder gave a short nod from his seat across the room, closing the book he'd been reading and setting it on the table beside him. "'Eard you were dead."

"Nearly died, survived." Penn shrugged, getting to his feet with a slight wobble. "Luckily for you, I am not, Angelus could not come."

"The poof wanted to come 'ere?" Spike was pleased to find his legs moved without pain, slinging them over the edge of the bed to face Penn proper.

"Yes, we found some...information on this Initiative group that is operating in town, but one of his pe-humans had a vision." The elder looked annoyed for a moment but shrugged it off. "Color me shocked to find you a bloody pulp in some alley, you don't seem the type to fall to humans." Spike cursed internally as he and Penn held each other's gaze, the other more curious than eager to find some sort of weakness Spike may or may not have.

"You'll want the Watcher, Slayer is never far from 'im." Spike finally scoffed, able to stand with minimum pain, Penn rising with him.

"Not coming with?" Those eyes narrowed as Spike growled.

"No, I'm not. He's not far from here, 'ave fun Penn." With that he swept out of the rather nice hotel room and into the night, heading for his crypt for some decent rest away from the prying eyes of family. He thanks his past self for ensuring proper sleeping quarters below the crypt he'd chosen, too exhausted to even kick off his shoes and he sinks onto his bed and back into sleep. It spared him from thinking about how humiliating it had been for Penn, of all people, to find him, and he knew that the Slayer and the others would most likely let slip his "condition" out of pure spite, leading to even more mockery. Maybe he'll just dust in his sleep; the Slayer of Slayers is gone as a footnote in demon history because of some bloody scientists.

Man his unlife just sucked, why the hells had he come back to Sunnydale?!

It's a pleasant surprise when he slowly starts to awaken to someone running a gentle hand through his hair, and Spike wonders if he's dreaming. Dru had been gentle in her rare lucid moments, whispering his poetry with a tender voice as she would hold him, both soaking up these peaceful moments before Miss Edith would inevitably return. Perhaps his brain was giving him a small mercy, so Spike decided to play along, chest rumbling with a purr as the hand continued its gentle pace.

Should we wake him?

No, he'll be asleep again soon, he's still weakened.

I still wish to hunt them sire, the ones who hurt him.

I know, but right now, my childer needs us.

Will we take him with us to L.A.?

If he wishes.

Spike isn't surprised to find the hand touching him is real, but is familiar with hiding his surprise to find that Angel is the one to touch him. He was sure Angel would have killed him; the hot pokers and torture were more than justification enough for his death, right? Instead, he's just...touching him, and speaking with Penn, who almost sounded like he gave a shite about Spike's health. Spike isn't sure what to make of this, so he just focuses on the gentle touch, lying to himself that it was just like old times until his brain decides to fall back asleep.

He can worry about everything later.

[here-comes-the-snow]

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL THE DISTORTION.

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.

Even being what I am, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him me to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

And this is what Michael and Gertrude found when they set foot on Sannikov Land, which does not exist and never has. It was warm, and feeling its reassurance beneath his feet was the last time poor, doomed Michael knew comfort. They walked through the green jungle of that forever-elusive polar island, and up the gentle mountains that can never have a name. And at the top, they found us through our spiralling laughter. And they saw us in all of our glory.

Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it. If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real.But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open. Because Gertrude had told Michael how he could stop us. She told him to walk through a door. And even then, with so much of his mind shut down in panic and terror, he trusted her. And he went inside, closing the door behind him.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

And all that was left was me. Michael. [Giggles] My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.

I know what this is from!!!

[blackrocks-greatest]

STATEMENT OF MICHEAL THE DISTORTION.

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.

Even being what I am, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him me to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

And this is what Michael and Gertrude found when they set foot on Sannikov Land, which does not exist and never has. It was warm, and feeling its reassurance beneath his feet was the last time poor, doomed Michael knew comfort. They walked through the green jungle of that forever-elusive polar island, and up the gentle mountains that can never have a name. And at the top, they found us through our spiralling laughter. And they saw us in all of our glory.

Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it. If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real.But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open. Because Gertrude had told Michael how he could stop us. She told him to walk through a door. And even then, with so much of his mind shut down in panic and terror, he trusted her. And he went inside, closing the door behind him.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

And all that was left was me. Michael. [Giggles] My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.

// ooc- whar....

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 34 - A Wedding With Pizzazz, Part 2

Miko: We’re not supposed to see each other until we walk down the aisle!

Penny: When have I ever cared about tradition? You’re more important to me than some lame superstition. You look absolutely stunning.

Miko: I mean, you do too, of course.

Miko: You’re wearing white. Why?

Penny: I know for a fact you’re not a virgin either, hon.

Miko: No no, I just mean… you hate wearing white.

Penny: Did you expect me to wear a dress made of peacock feathers on our wedding day? … Actually, don’t answer that.

Penny: I know I dress a little wild on the daily, but today is about celebrating us, Mimi. I wanted to match my beautiful wife.

Miko: Oh, sweetie.

Penny: We’re a team. A united front. We both get to shine today, and for the rest of our lives.

Penny: I don’t ever want to hear you doubt how much I love you ever again, do you understand me?

Miko: I-I…

Penny: I have lived a blessed, amazing, fabulous life, and the best damn thing that ever happened in it was meeting you. You’re the most kind, selfless, and positive person I have ever met. You’ve celebrated my highs and picked me up during my lows. You were there for me when all my fake ass Simstagram friends never were. If I kept listing what I see in you we’ll miss the whole damn wedding.

Penny: I love you, Miko. And you know when I love something, I love it to the max. I’m the one who asked you to marry me, y’know. You’re never getting rid of me. Deal with it.

Miko: I love you too, baby.

Miko: Oh Watcher, I feel like a mess

Penny: A beautiful mess.

Miko: I’ll go see if the makeup artist can help me freshen up.

Penny: I'll be right behind you in a second, Mimi.

Ophelia: How much did you hear?

Penny: Enough. Thank you for being there for Miko. She struggles with her self-esteem a lot, and that PlumBright piece didn't help. Despite everything that’s happened, it’s nice to know there are still decent Sims out there. Needless to say, the band will be getting a big tip tonight.

Ophelia: I didn’t come find Miko or say that stuff because I was worried I wouldn't get paid or tipped.

Penny: I know. That’s why you’re getting it.

Penny: Let’s keep in touch. You have my personal number, but I'll send you my business contact info later. I like you, and that’s a rare thing to actually mean in my line of work. I don’t have a ton of music connections but you’ll be the first person I call when someone asks.

Ophelia: That's so sweet, thank you!

Penny: You got dragged because of me, I owe you something.

Ophelia: Hey, friends stick by each other through thick and thin. And like the article said, I'm your talentless friend!

Penny: What more could a tacky, self-obsessed girl ask for?

It's not so lovey-dovey up in the Laurents' office.

Tiff: You can’t blame me for Ty’s work!

Hilary: There’s no way he would have known most of that without you telling him.

Tiff: Anyone could tell that those women are total disasters!

Hilary: Enough! Your disrespect has been tolerated for far too long, but you will not disrespect my clients and their privacy. Penny and Miko no longer feel comfortable having you participate in the wedding, and I don’t feel comfortable having you as an employee. You’re fired.

Tiff: You can’t be serious!

Hilary: You have been given several chances to curb your attitude. You failed every single time. Security will escort you off site.

Tiff: Forget it. I’m out of here. You’ll regret this, Hilary.

Hilary: Goodbye, Tiffany.

As Ophelia walks back inside to ready herself before her performance at the reception, she's unfortunate enough to run into Tiff, who can't even be escorted away by security with any humility.

Tiff: I hope you’re happy. You and your friends may have won the battle, but this war is far from over.

Ophelia: This wasn’t a battle. You’ve been the only one fighting and you fought so hard you gave yourself a black eye!

Tiff: You’ll see! YOU'LL ALL SEE!

Hilary: I apologize for my former employee’s behavior. I hate to ask this of you, but would you be willing to fill in on the violin? Anaya will cover Tiff’s portion, you would just accompany with Alice.

Ophelia: I know the song. I’ve got this.

The violin trio starts the processional song, along with Moses on the piano. It's go-time.

Penny: Last chance to bail.

Miko: And give up having the last name Pizzazz? You're dreaming, sweetie.

Penny: That's my girl.

It's now or never. Let's do this!

You may now kiss the bride!

Penny and Miko Pizzazz walk back up the aisle, feeling more in love than ever before. The hate, the panic, the chaos of the past 24 hours didn't matter.

This feeling is what they'll remember in their elder years.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 8 Ep. 180: A Bittersweet Birthday

With boxed up cake in tow, the family arrived at the party venue in Newcrest and found their guests already playing inside.

The adults joined a cooperative alien invader defense game while Luigi was excited to battle his cousin with the newest voidcritter he’d been training.

The dads made sure to come over near the end of the match, and under Jack’s expectant gaze Luigi overcame his frustration at the narrow defeat enough to unclench his angry fists and congratulate Hunter on a battle well fought. For such mature sportsmanship a proud Peachy delivered a thank you kiss to both Papa Jack and the birthday boy before the jokesmith headed over to the bar where he had a microphone waiting for him.

---------------------------------------------

Luigi was still far from his dad’s biggest fan when it came to his comedy, but when Peachy had promised to produce a “super fun, video game themed” skit especially for the event Luigi had eventually agreed to let him perform at the party.

The comedian had researched and worked hard to craft good jokes about his son’s favorite hobby, given that he’d rarely done much gaming himself, and in the end the kids seemed to enjoy it. Even Luigi cracked a smile, which made his dad feel more like a superstar than any paying gig ever could.

---------------------------------------------

When the show was over it was finally time for the main birthday event.

Peachy and Jack’s cake took pride of place and the assembled family and friends cheered as Luigi blew out his candles and spun his way into teendom.

The young sim suddenly shot up in height and, although he hadn’t ditched his eczema flareup, showed every sign of his Papa’s good looks.

Luigi was quickly almost bowled over as Papa Jack delivered a big bear hug for his newly big boy. He and Peachy smiled indulgently as Jack babbled happily about the amazing things Luigi’s future held in store, everyone doing their best not to think about Jack soon not being there to see them.

---------------------------------------------

When he was finally released Luigi made a beeline for the bar, which had been taken over by Great Grandpa Don after the bartenders’ shift ended.

He’d learned a lot about fizzy and sweet drinks in the abstract from his relatives in Henford and Chestnut Ridge. The science of brewing drinks sounded like too much work, but Grandpa Don made the practice of pouring those drinks seem glamorous and fun. Now that he was old enough, the expert mixologist was happy to show his great grandson everything about the craft, starting with how to craft Papa Jack’s favorite drink.

---------------------------------------------

Luigi further indulged his Papa that evening at bedtime. He was “clearly” much too old to need tucked in, but when Jack asked to see him off to bed that night, he didn’t even consider saying no to the old ritual that had often helped soothe him to sleep as a child.

As Jack smiled down at his little boy, suddenly looking so big in his tiny single bed, he silently asked the Watcher to go easy on him and help him find success but, even more importantly, happiness. There was no response, but he’d never gotten one before, either.

Finally, Jack walked the short distance across the hall to his own room and drifted off to sleep one final time in his best friends’ arms.

-----------------------------------------

Want To See More? View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[bladedalchemistreplica]

Your Muse's greeting methods; insp.

[[context-in general

Hostile: While not confrontational, he is not going to stand idle by if push comes to shove. If someone is outright hostile towards him he may try to get away from the one in question, if not able to get away he isn't hesitant to throw a good punch at their more vulnerable areas, including item(s) being thrown if a viable first option. Most of the time he's searching for a way out and to blend into whatever is around him, escape is preferable.

Neutral: He's pretty friendly and tends to try and get on the best terms with whoever he is greeting or meeting with. He is pleased to be meeting with anyone who returns this as well. Still aware of his surroundings and what the other is doing, without being obvious about it. {{Very rarely is he going to be obvious}} He's respectful of the other's personal space and tone of voice, he either goes on with his day or ends up sticking around.

Friendly: He's more open to speaking on slightly closer terms, his guard is down a bit more, and his trust is increased. He is more open to hugging from the other party (He hardly will do so unless they are very close)) Close friends he usually is more touchy with but still respectful of their space or preferences. Friends matter to him and he usually tends to let them know that.

Romanced: His guard is almost non-existent at this point and he tends to be more showy with his feelings and actions, depending on where they are of course. In public he tends to lean on them or hold an arm. He usually does small gestures towards them; baking some small items, finding items they are interested in, or taking them to secret areas he knows of.

Hostile: Being outright hostile towards the blade's leader can get you an onslaught of bad luck, word travels fast and so do the shadows of undercover blades among the populous or ranks. Though actions are far more apparent for their leader. Neutralizing the threat is preferable due to the threat of being exposed. However, there is usually just a dot on the one's head for this and an eye on them. There is no going back if hostile action is acted against him.

[[[NOTE: Civilians or those who were oppressed by the gala he tends to be standoffish towards or attempts to deescalate the situation. usually by removing himself from the area.

Neutral: More professional and non-personal. He tends to keep his guard up and is very blunt with what he has to say, rarely will he open up about anything beyond the work being done or messages to relay. Once the conversation is over, it's over. usually, he treats everyone by rank, especially if higher than his own. Though he is a bit offstandish towards civilians. ((Especially if they have bad view of the Galra))

Friendly: He tends to be a bit more personal, but only with the closer members. He addresses one by name rather than title ((PRivate or with others that know of them)) and he tends to refer them to nicknames that they prefer or are generally used. on the conversation level, he will bend out of that realm and ask about some safer lower-level items of a person's wellness or daily on goings.

Romanced: More personal and a bit touchy with them, such as placing a hand on their arm shoulder or back, standing closer to them, speaking more to them, and frequently visiting them. He is more relaxed and very conversational with them. He tended to be a bit more smiley and loud, even letting himself lean against them and shut his eyes. He may even wear a little piece of item or tag from them on his uniform.

Tagged by: @belost-the-watcher tagging: @cyberghost-scout @haus-der-mysterionmusen @starlight-empire-child @bots-basket

[bonkedbees]

Why is your only post michael

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have alwaysbeen? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.

Even being what I am, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him me to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.

Poor Michael. He had been on trips for the Institute before. Conferences, investigations, Gertrude had made sure that all her assistants were ready. That none of them would be suspicious if they were told they were going abroad for work. So there was no doubt in his mind, no concern, when she told him that they were travelling to Russia. Perhaps if he’d have stopped to look up their destination, he might have discovered there was no such place as Zemlya Sannikova, but he did not. He trusted her.

Even when they arrived in Dikson, at the edge of the Kara Sea, and they were picked up by a quiet sea captain called Peter Lukas… Even then he trusted her. They travelled north, through cold far more bitter than any Michael had even conceived possible. And do you know what he worried about? [Giggles] He… worried about Gertrude Robinson. About how this poor old woman might cope with the chill. But now she was like iron, and walked with a purpose that Michael had never before seen in her. The water turned to ice as the Arctic approached, and Gertrude’s eyes turned cold.

Then, at last, he began to be afraid. He asked her where they were going and was told again: Zemlya Sannikova. Sannikov Land. There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it? Perhaps Gertrude believed so. Michael certainly did. He believed everything she told him.

And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

And this is what Michael and Gertrude found when they set foot on Sannikov Land, which does not exist and never has. It was warm, and feeling its reassurance beneath his feet was the last time poor, doomed Michael knew comfort. They walked through the green jungle of that forever-elusive polar island, and up the gentle mountains that can never have a name. And at the top, they found us through our spiralling laughter. And they saw us in all of our glory.

Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it. If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real.

But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open. Because Gertrude had told Michael how he could stop us. She told him to walk through a door. And even then, with so much of his mind shut down in panic and terror, he trusted her. And he went inside, closing the door behind him.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.

Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

And all that was left was me. Michael. [Giggles] My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.

[parasitic-dreams-au]

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL THE DISTORTION

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.

Even being what I am, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him me to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

And this is what Michael and Gertrude found when they set foot on Sannikov Land, which does not exist and never has. It was warm, and feeling its reassurance beneath his feet was the last time poor, doomed Michael knew comfort. They walked through the green jungle of that forever-elusive polar island, and up the gentle mountains that can never have a name. And at the top, they found us through our spiralling laughter. And they saw us in all of our glory.

Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it. If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real.But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open. Because Gertrude had told Michael how he could stop us. She told him to walk through a door. And even then, with so much of his mind shut down in panic and terror, he trusted her. And he went inside, closing the door behind him.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

And all that was left was me. Michael. [Giggles] My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.

*confused briefcase noises*