#Considering how it's explicitly telling you the navy cares about it

[somegirlblr]

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[queenofzan]

The Waterbending Master

So as I said, I'm rewatching Avatar: the Last Airbender. And this time, a few little things have struck me as potentially in need of improvement.

Master Pakku, his refusal to teach Katara, and his coming around when he sees she is Kanna's granddaughter.

This is the first culture in the show we have seen be extremely patriarchal (Sokka is supposed to be the man of the southern tribe and all that is left there are women and children, but they also have extremely low numbers, and honestly, it seems like Gran-Gran is as much in charge of the tribe as the chief's mom or mother-in-law as anything else). Kyoshi Island, obviously, has the Kyoshi Warriors and venerates Avatar Kyoshi; the mayor seems to be a man but Suki and the other warriors are considered leaders as well, despite being teenagers. We see several other Earth Kingdom towns and villages that seem mostly patriarchal, but apart from Sokka (and, once, Zuko) we don't hear a whole lot about what women can or can't do. The Fire Nation army and navy seem to be co-ed, although in season one we mostly see male commanders. However, working with women or taking orders from women doesn't seem to bother anyone except Sokka.

Then we get to the Northern Water Tribe, and they seem to have a pretty stratified society, with explicitly sex-segregated bending traditions. But it kind of seems like the writers wanted to have a moral about sexism without actually depicting sexism?

Pakku does say some derogatory things about how Katara's proper place is with Yugoda and the other girls, but he doesn't even hit as hard as Sokka does with the "girls shouldn't be fighting" stuff. He talks about tradition, which is...a really weird argument to make to the sole remaining Southern Tribe waterbender. Surely in the case of cultural extinction, the importance of keeping Southern waterbending alive is more important than sexism based on traditions? Like, are the traditions of the Southern Tribe completely irrelevant here? It wouldn't seem so, because the Chief does make a big deal of welcoming Katara and Sokka from their sister tribe and treating them as honored guests in their own right, not just as the Avatar's friends. So why didn't the Chief say "Pakku, we've failed to help our sister tribe at all in the last hundred years and now they're down to a single waterbender, we have to at least give the appearance of caring about them", especially since, you know, he's got the Southern Tribe's Chief's son and daughter there with the Avatar. Making sure the Southern Water Tribe still has waterbenders seems like a concern for the balance of the world, no?

And since when have sexist pigs become less sexist when presented with evidence that their crushes have been romantically entangled with someone else? Kanna has grandchildren, she got married to someone else and had children and meanwhile, as far as we can tell, Pakku has no family and never married. He certainly has no issue fucking off to help rebuild the Southern Tribe at the end of season one. Like...is it not much more common for sexist jerks to become more obnoxious after finding out they got dumped and forgotten about? Do men who want your number not usually call you a bitch instead of going, "Ah, you're right, I should reflect on my behavior?"

We also have absolutely no textual evidence for Katara's immediate assumption that Kanna couldn't stand the sexist traditions of the Northern Tribe. Apart from raising Katara, who is definitely not sexist, and raising Sokka, who is definitely sexist at the beginning of the show, we know very little about Kanna.

This is actually a pretty simple fix, in my opinion. A: make it clear Kanna does not stand for Sokka's sexist nonsense. I don't think this actually takes that much effort; some lines when Sokka is being sexist early on met with "You wouldn't say that if Gran-gran could hear you" or "Why don't you ever say that to Gran-gran?" implying that Sokka is in fact watching his tongue around his grandmother lets us know that Gran-gran has an opinion more in line with Katara's.

B: reverse Pakku's stated reasons for not teaching Katara. At first he grudgingly agrees, out of kinship and solidarity (and because the Chief pressured him and the Avatar is watching) but then not only is she a disrespectful student (by his standards) he finds out she's the grand-daughter of the woman who spurned him and apparently started a whole different family with someone else, and finds an excuse to kick her out of class. Or he sees her necklace and accuses her of stealing it, or something. Something so that his argument isn't based solely on the weirdly backwards presumption that his Tribe's traditions are more important than hers, despite the fact that hers are actively endangered.

I think we should honestly also see Pakku be more actively sexist, assuming Katara will be unable to match Aang's progress or his progress or something. He should talk more specific shit about how ill-mannered or boyish she is, or blatantly judge her excellent skills more harshly than Aang's. We should see actual sexism, not just "la la la you can't be here" which is like. Annoying but certainly not the most common or most harmful way sexism manifests. I mean, even him claiming Katara would be unable to concentrate on bending because she's at that age where girls only think about boys would be more than he does; we could even have that tie into the betrothal necklace blowup where he's like "You're fucking up because you're thinking about your impending marriage, aren't you?" and she's like "The fuck you talking about, old man?"

I just. I know they were going for a sort of, oh look, he's been reminded of his True Feelings and the sexism was just sour grapes, but that isn't as strong and it doesn't really send any message about sexism? Whereas if we had any indication that Kanna really did specifically hate that part of the Northern culture, if we had any indication Pakku has actually internalized any sexist ideas beyond "this is how it is", and we had any sense of Pakku actually grappling with the idea that the same things he loved in Kanna are the things that annoy him in Katara, and how that means he's changed, this subplot would be a lot stronger.

I also wonder uhhh what the fuck was Pakku going to say, if someone asked him why he was spying on the Avatar? We know the answer, he's literally spying on the Avatar for the Order of the White Lotus, but it looks like he's just stalking a 12 year old student after dark. It's really weird. Is he that obsessed with enforcing the sexist tradition of women not learning combat waterbending? That's also weird, to be honest! He's an old man, he should have other shit going on! Or else everyone should acknowledge that he's being weird!

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve seen a few posts now that assume Izzy also made some sort of deal that involved signing the Act of Grace or some other pledge of loyalty to King George in exchange for Ed’s freedom and that was not my interpretation at all? Aside from the fact that I think Izzy is not selfless enough to have ever made this kind of deal, I don’t think the text of the show supports that interpretation.

I think this read mostly comes from Badminton’s line to Ed: “You face death for general crimes of piracy against the Crown. But a friend of the Crown has prevailed upon me to remand you to his custody. You shall be released to Captain Hands in exchange for his service to the King.”

My assumption has always been that Badminton was talking about their original deal here--the one that was made at Spanish Jackie’s--and that the “service to the King” that Izzy rendered was leading them to Stede. (Remember, Badminton’s personal vendetta against Stede makes it all the way to King George, and he’s given the King’s blessing to use the full force of the Royal Navy for hunting down Stede. In Chauncey Badminton’s mind, punishing Stede and the aims of the Crown are one and the same.) I never thought to interpret it any other way, but then I had to think about why I made that assumption.

Primarily, it’s because we never get any explicit confirmation that Izzy made that kind of trade. Signing the Act of Grace is a huge decision for Ed, and it’s something Izzy seems to regard with deep disgust and horror. I don’t think Izzy intended the Act of Grace to enter into the situation at all. (See: his stunned no when Ed invokes it.) And while it’s possible Badminton could be referencing a conversation he had with Izzy after Izzy realized that Jack hadn’t gotten Ed off the ship and he’d been captured with everyone else, I don’t see anything to really support this either. After Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace and get sent off to privateer basic training/reform school together, Izzy is...just chillin, on the Revenge. There is no indication that Chauncey or the Royal Navy expects anything further from him.

But also on a story structure level, the rules of setup and payoff are in play here. At the end of episode 7, we have the meeting between Badminton, Izzy and Spanish Jackie. And we get the setup:

“We can serve Stede Bonnet up to you. For a price.”

“Name it.”

Cut to black.

And then Izzy doesn’t appear at all in episode 8, and the next time we see him, he’s sitting on deck during Stede and Ed’s trial, and Stede Bonnet has most definitely been served up. So we’re waiting for the reveal: what was the price? And it seems clear that this is it: Ed’s life in exchange for Stede’s, which is of negative value to Izzy but extreme value to Chauncey Badminton. This seems to be how Ed understands it as well--his reaction to Chauncey’s line about Izzy’s service to the King is “he sold us out.” He doesn’t care that Izzy just saved his life if the price is Stede’s; that’s what Izzy can’t fathom and therefore doesn’t account for.

To be clear, this deal would only have worked with Chauncey, whose personal hatred of Stede is strong enough that he would consider letting the Caribbean’s most wanted pirate by anyone else’s standard go free in exchange for capturing Stede. Izzy knows this (“a little bird told us you have it in for Stede Bonnet”) and through the whole interaction at Spanish Jackie’s, he’s negotiating from a position of power. He doesn’t need to offer anything other than Stede’s life--Chauncey tells him he can name his price.

(While it’s never explicitly stated, I think an additional part of the deal was that Izzy gets the Revenge and the crew. They could very easily have executed the whole crew after it was confirmed that their captain was a “real” pirate, but they just...let them go. To be clear I don’t think Izzy cares about the crew one bit, but I think he’s happy to take something that was Stede’s, both the crew and the ship, and probably relishes getting to have power over a group of people he’s come to despise.)

(What does Spanish Jackie get out of all this? That remains to be seen.)

If we piece it together after the fact, I think Izzy always had two levels of plan. Plan A was for Jack to get Ed off the Revenge before the English ever showed up. Jack explicitly tells us this. Izzy knew things would go the most smoothly with Stede’s capture if Ed wasn’t around at all. Maybe he even thought of this as a kindness to Ed, not having to watch Stede get captured and killed, the same way he offers to kill Stede for him in episode 6. 

Jack’s job was to get Ed off the ship, out of danger and away from Stede--but also, crucially, to lure the Revenge to Blind Man’s Cove, a location Jack knew about, where they’d be trapped with no escape. There must have been a somewhat organized plan for this; I don’t really believe Jack when he says he doesn’t remember when the English were supposed to show up. He knew exactly what he was doing from the beginning.

But I think Izzy also had a Plan B from the beginning. (We never see Izzy and Jack interact, but I can’t imagine either of them particularly trusting or liking the other.) So part of the deal with Badminton was: I’ll lead you to Stede Bonnet, but if Blackbeard happens to be there, he is not to be harmed.

Of course, Izzy didn’t count on Ed being willing to throw away this reprieve to save Stede. And once Ed offers the possibility of voluntarily surrendering himself to the English as long as it’s with an alive Stede, he very rapidly becomes the more valuable prize. (“It’s only valid if Mr. Teach signs on”--Ed is essential to this deal and he knows it.) So valuable, in fact, that a bunch of junior officers disobey and physically overpower a fucking admiral to make it happen. (Maybe the prospect of a caged Blackbeard is even more exciting than the prospect of a dead one.)

And so Ed inverts the whole thing. Izzy was willing to trade someone else’s life for Ed’s, and while I think he did expect Ed to be angry at him for it, I think he assumed that Ed would eventually snap out of his infatuation and thank Izzy for being the reasonable one here. In Izzy’s mind, he’s doing this for Ed’s own good. (Oh look at that Izzy-Stede parallel there.) But because Ed is willing to give up his own life for Stede (literally, at first, by confessing to murder in the hope of sparing Stede, and then metaphorically by giving up his freedom and the reputation that has protected him) and Izzy neither expects nor understands that, Ed is able to outmaneuver him here.

[medusinestories]

Black Sails, IV (S1, ep 04)

- Silver's horrified face when he finds out he's going to have to roast pigs is a Journey, starting with shock, then fake smiling, and then this horrified shuddery expression. It's just as interesting when they drop the dead pig at his feet and he clearly doesn't know what to do with it and also finds it disgusting. I can absolutely see where all the Jewish John Silver headcanons come from, especially since it's unlikely that a London urchin has never seen a dead pig and raw meat in general before.

- Here we have the first performance of Cassandra DeGroot: he knows that the bay they'd chosen to do the careening was too dangerous, and warns the crew. He's immediately countered by Flint, who has much more persuasive arguments to get the careening done fast but in a risky manner. (this whole thing reminds me of our current COVID/climate situation, where scientists get talked over by politicians, and people prefer listening to the latter because they seem to offer much better prospects than the “catastrophist” former)

- In this episode Billy is now quartermaster and he shows himself to actually be really good at disciplining the crew, something Gates, DeGroot and even Flint recognise. However, he also agreed to do the careening only because he's afraid to say no to Flint and allowed the men to have a fuck tent, which he feared would distract them - and it did, the two men who placed the rope on the wrong tree decided not to follow his orders and go fuck instead. This all weighs on him enormously after the disaster with Randall and Morley, who accuses him minutes before his death of already being in Flint's pocket. It's pretty clear that more responsibility doesn't do Billy's mental state any good.

- Morley's story about the Maria Aleyne gives some idea of a timeline, albeit a faint one. The incident took place "a number of years back", before Billy joined. This means that Billy is a somewhat new addition to the crew. We know that Randall was bosun when Billy joined. This also establishes that Lord Hamilton has been dead for several years, which now begs the question: who is the Lord Proprietor that Richard Guthrie is now in touch with? Did Thomas have a younger brother who inherited the Bahamas? Was someone new appointed? Was there a gap between Proprietors that allowed the pirates to establish themselves even more after Lord Alfred's death?

- I just adore the fact that Miranda actually went to stinking, violent Nassau because she was just too impatient to wait at home and wanted to be there when the Walrus came in and immediately hear the news of Lord Alfred's death. She is that vengeful and angry and I love her <3

- Speaking of which, this episode gives us the Passive-Agressive Sex Scene which makes so many people doubt of Flint's attraction to Miranda. Just look at Flint’s face: this man isn't uncomfortable or sad he is PISSED. He plays starfish and glares at Miranda all through it (while maintaining an erection all the same!). Miranda must be hella frustrated (or determined) because she manages to get off in spite of all of this (also, how uncommon is it for a sex scene to end when the woman climaxes rather than the man?) It's only when it ends that both Flint and Miranda are both shown as vulnerable and sad and reflective, with Flint reaching up to touch her but not quite getting there - imo because he's still angry but knows that she (and he) needs comfort.

- This leads into the argument over Meditations, and Miranda explicitly talking about Thomas and not wanting to forget him. The book hasn't been touched in a long time, confirming the idea that Miranda shared it with Richard Guthrie because Flint refuses to touch it. Her grief, her loneliness, are incredibly poignant in this scene, and we see Flint shift from bristling and stonily glaring at her, to absolutely melting (Toby's facial expression shifts here are just *chef's kiss*) and finally being gentle and tender with her. However, even though he promises to make things better, Miranda clearly doesn't believe him anymore.

- This brings in a big theme in the episode: betrayal from people you care for/trust. Mr Scott asks Eleanor not to do anything rash in order to get the Andromache’s guns, only to discover her Plan B: to kill Bryson if he didn't comply. In the meantime, Richard Guthrie tells (a very sceptical) Miranda that he can only support Eleanor and Flint, because he pretty much has no choice in the matter. He then proceeds to betray his daughter by making a deal with Bryson and with Mr Scott, who’s still smarting from Eleanor’s betrayal and who Guthrie tries to convince by saying that Eleanor's endeavour will lead to her death and Nassau’s destruction (considering what we later find out about Mr Scott, Eleanor’s safety is probably not be the argument that actually compels Mr Scott - but he certainly doesn't want the Navy searching the area and finding Maroon Island, and needs a stable Nassau to continue supplying his island).

- The Undercooked Pig scene and Silver's attempts at communicating with Flint will never not be funny. Silver looks so small when Flint glares him down, but that doesn't last all that long: once Flint has taught him how to cook the pork, Silver seems much more bold, asking Flint how he learned to glaze the pig, insisting that Flint should trust him and not Billy. This is also a moment where Silver shows that, unlike Flint, he is incredibly perceptive: he noticed that Billy is "straining at the seams" because of the lie he told. And while Flint spits a "there is no we" and calls Silver a rodent, it's obvious that Silver's words still have an impact on him. Their collaboration is sealed when Silver hands him the cleaver so that he can save Randall (and himself). When Flint returns the cleaver to Silver, he's ready to accept that Silver is actually on his side (albeit for selfish reasons) and listens to him for the first time.

- Max believed that she could charm Vane's remaining crew into being kind to her - and overall it seems to have worked. While again I hate this plot, it does give an interesting insight into how even the worst pirate crew is portrayed: most of the men are happy to comply with Max and get sexual rewards "for gentle obedience". Most of them, basically, aren't violent monsters deep down. However there's always one, in this case That Big Bastard (I'm sure he has a name, I just can't be bothered to google it), who clearly gets a kick out of torturing/raping people and hates the idea of a woman taking the lead.

- Fuck You Jack is another theme of this episode. Vane is high on opium and booze and has basically lost the will to do anything. Anne has been courted by several other crews, but Jack hasn't received any offers (note there's no loyalty to Vane here, Jack’s ready to leave, but nobody will have him) and nobody is willing to help him after the pearl cock-up. Then Noonan wants Max back, which Jack refuses because she's the only thing keeping the few members of his crew loyal - and Anne isn't on board with that, leading to her telling him to fuck himself. This, btw, might have crossed Jack’s mind considering the position she was in when he found her. I think it’s easy to forget that Jack is portrayed as pretty callous and happily willing to treat people like pawns too.

- When Richard Guthrie talks about Nassau, he describes it as a place "a place where she [Eleanor] matters, a place where you [Mr Scott] matter", and adds that a place like this isn't meant to last. Nassau, then, is currently an utopia where women and black people can have some semblance of power - and he doesn't believe that this will ever be allowed to exist because this kind of story never has a happy ending in their current society. But when Flint talks to Eleanor about their project, he's of the opposite view: people don't believe that it's possible, but when they succeed, they'll say it was inevitable. It seems Flint is firmly in the camp of "winners get to tell the story", and that the story will influence how the rest of the world sees them.

- When the Walrus tilts and squashes Randall, Flint stops Billy from intervening and rushes to rescue Randall himself - even though he knows the ship will be cut loose at any moment. He puts himself into incredible danger in this moment. Why? Theoretically, it could be for a manipulative purpose: to look good to the crew, or to get rid of Morley. But Flint seems genuinely involved in the struggle to save Randall, and he barely had time to think before he ran off. I feel that this is a rare spontaneous moment for Flint, where instead of thinking about his plans or his position as Captain, he just thinks like a person in an emergency who wants to rescue someone else. He absolutely could have died out there. And while Billy seems to suspect him of having killed Morley, I don't find that reading compatible with what we're shown of Flint trying to save Randall. True, he may have kicked/pushed Morley at the very last second, but we’ll never know that for sure.

- Back to the theme of people betraying their loved ones, we have Richard Guthrie getting back to Miranda, telling her he knows who she is and revealing the "Thomas went mad because Miranda and Flint cheated" story which he heard from Lord Alfred himself. So now Miranda knows that her identity has been revealed and that Richard could spread the story to, say, Pastor Lambrick (let's not pretend this didn't cross her mind, she keeps her identity secret for a reason). And then Guthrie offers her a way back to civilisation. This, right after a kid threw a stone at her, calling her a witch. This, after Flint has promised to make things better, even as he goes deeper into reckless/utopian plans of fortifying Nassau. Backed into a corner, was Miranda ever going to refuse, if she could be safe and have him be safe? And obviously, Richard Guthrie isn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He apparently figured out that Miranda was a way to get in touch with Pastor Lambrick and that ridding New Providence of Flint and winning over the “good”, normal inhabitants would be a perfect beginning to buying back his influence on the Island - the end goal being named Governor, of course.

- If there was any doubt that Vane’s tough guy thing is part of an act, his opium hallucination of Eleanor makes it crystal clear: "you're alone, you don't have to pretend with me". That is, pretend that he's not afraid and that he's not vulnerable. The hallucination also offers Vane an explanation for why Eleanor is how she is: like him she's afraid of appearing weak. He's actually spot on, a big problem in their relationship is that they're too alike and are struggling for dominance. Which is probably why Vane wants to overcome his fear and weakness, and regain power by confronting his old slave master (btw, nice parallel with Flint haunted by Miranda in S3). The scene where Vane kills Noonan also shows him in a very animalistic light - at first he's cornered and somewhat pathetic, beaten, throwing up, only saved by the fact that a gun misfires. Then he turns violent: quick, instinctive and relentless, deaf to Noonan's plea to leave him alive, even if theoretically it could have been profitable for him.

- I have to say, I snickered quite a bit when Pastor Lambrick sees Richard Guthrie and tells him "God teaches us not to cheer when someone stumbles, in your case I may ask his forgiveness". I mean, I really see his point. He leads a group of Puritans who are trying to make a life for themselves on this island. Historically, people who lived and farmed in New Providence were constant targets for errant pirates, who robbed, raped and killed a lot of them. This is what the Pastor is trying to protect his congregation from (and Miranda, since he doesn't understand why she's with Flint and is likely terrified that a pirate lives so close to his congregation, hence the spies he sends out). There's a bit of a parallel with Billy, where both Lambrick and Billy are presented as being very preoccupied with the well-being of the group they're responsible for, and both are presented as, well, Goody-Two-Shoes - (self-)righteous, loyal, honest, caring. Except they're both human, and sooner or later they falter.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Alright alright alright

You’ve all been asking for it, so here it is! 

This will be (edit: HELLA) long and obviously spoiler-y, so everything is under a cut. 

Are you ready?

Before we get to it, I want to mention that for the sake of keeping things organized, I will NOT be talking about my AU (@ask-whitepearl-and-steven​) in this post. I want to just analyze the show as a viewer and a fan first. I’ll make a seperate post for AU-thoughts a bit later.

Without further ado:

EP 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

This is a great way to open up the episode and show the changes through the lens of someone who has been a bit out of it for a while (we are all Cherry Quartz, fresh from the hiatus, aren’t we?) but I’m sorry, this post still takes the cake:

Okay, okay, back to the program.

“That used to be a loaded question...“

Right off the bat, Steven is SO much more confident about saying that he’s... HIMSELF! What a good feeling. I’m very proud of our boy. 

I love the name “Gemglyph” for the gem language! I’ll need to know who wrote these, though. And who the heck drew the diamonds? Hopefully it was BP. 

And I’m not the first one to point this out, but MORE ANIME REFERENCES!

Which can be seen as either a reference to the Chill Low-Fi Hiphop Beats to Study To OR Whisper of the Heart. 

And absolutely no one cares but something that caught my eye is the fact that they have an EARTH FLAG at Little Homeschool! How cool is that!

Earth 4ever!!! 

Off-note - I love how INVESTED they are in this conversation Pearl is having with Holo-Pearl.

Peak entertainment. 

I love Professor Amethyst and I love the random human who snuck in to apparently take lessons on Not Giving A Single Shit About Anything, Ever. 

And here we FINALLY are in the FUTURE

Where we FINALLY get Jasper as a functioning character

And 

She’s

SO DRAMATIC, I LOVE HER.

This is literally SO funny like she... she was just... laying on top of her house... under a blanket..... FOr WHAT? To stand up dramatically and throw it off when Steven inevitably paid a visit? 

Is that just what she dOES? 

“It’s FINE I don’t need any HELP, I’m FUNCTIONING, I’m just having a SELF CARE DAY OK”

Also I’m sorry but

Jasper: “It took forever to yank those puny green earthlings out of the ground.”

Steven: “You mean grass...?“

THIS. RIGHT HERE. is peak Jasper. 

It’s also curious how INVESTED Steven is in this:

“I’m TRYING to give you [a purpose]!“

Why are you... trying to do that, though? Isn’t the whole idea for gems to surpass their ‘purpose’ and just kinda... do whatever? Isn’t Jasper just kinda... doing whatever? 

I mean, sure, it’s not useful to anyone, but she seems relatively happy. Aside from. You know. The whole laying on rocks under blankets until she’s disturbed thing and-- okay, you’re right, maybe an intervention would be healthy. 

I’m not gonna talk at length about the rest of the episode - although I think it’s really good, I don’t know what I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. Jasper is definitely poking Steven’s buttons and rephrasing a LOT of what WHITE has said to Pink: “You surround yourself with inferior gems because it makes you feel better.”

And Steven REACTS to this. The taunt WORKS.

And yes, he gains some extra powers for it, but something tells me this AIN’T the only thing he will get. It feels like a two-edged sword. Like it’ll be his own downfall somehow....... maybe at the end of the series. 

Ashes to ashes.... hole to hole.

And oh wow I thought they were gonna bond but LMAO

“Consider your fight back there your first and ONLY lesson.“

Basically:

I love you Jasper.

EP 2: GUIDANCE

I LOVE YOU AMETHYST.

sHE’S doing SO much and she’s SO good at it!! Look at her!! Organizing stuff!!!! 

RUBIES IN SUNGLASSES. IN SQUARE SUNGLASSES. 

I need 20. 

And I also need 20 of Larimar because holy shit that’s hilarious. 

Larimar: “I want to hear the human screams forever.”

Steven: “Okay that’s kinda troubling.”

I love the reference to Monsters Inc here and I love the callback at the end of the episode when Larimar switches to Human Laughter to get her fill of that particular erm... need. 

And honestly the ensuing chaos is equally predictable and entertaining. 

I’m SO glad to know that Rubies are just... Like That and that actually Navy is not a deviation from the norm but rather a different flavor of the chaotic energy all Rubies naturally seem to possess. 

Amethyst is also super relatable:

“Ah yes, the fool comes crawling back. Come to beg for forgiveness, have you?”

In fact, the episode’s WHOLe HUMOUR is just very much My Brand

“Sometimes you save all the people but the rollercoaster still crashes into the ocean...... and that’s okay.”

Including the Running Gag that is Onion. Who... does not appear to have aged. At all. And that’s okay.

EP 3: ROSE BUDS

Okay where do I even begin with this one. Um.

I have to openly admit that I spent the majority of this episode wheezing with laughter. Let’s start with the Zoomans:

Who are CLEARLY STILL SUPER SALTY AT GREG ABOUT REJECTING THEM??? Which is hilarious. 

And also this paradise is fascinating in and of itself. 

But the next scene is basically where I started losing my shit.

Okay, okay, alright so. Uh. I have... a few questions.

Like Why. WHY. Does she look. SO MUCH like Rose? 

Clearly Rose Quartz differ in coloring and etc. But She literally looks. Like THE Rose. VERY explicitly. 

So here’s several options here:

1) Pink made Rose Quartz way before any of the Rebellion happened and Pearl just basically pigeonholed her into THIS specific Rose Quartz appearance because she (???) had a crush? Or somehow saw this specific Rose, thought ‘hot, i can make my sympathetic Diamond wear this exact costume and that would be EXCELLENT fanservice for ME’

2) Pink didn’t have any Rose Quartz until the Rebellion, and thereafter quickly decided ‘I need these gems as an alibi, so we’re just gonna make them” and she and Pearl basically inclubated Rose Quartz like a pokemon trainer hatching for a Shiny until they got one that looked Exactly Like That. 

3) There was no Thinking involved because this is Pink we’re talking about, and it was all just a huge coincidence for the sake of this Very Hilariously Uncomfortable Episode. 

While we ruminate on that, let’s look at some Relatable Reactions.

And here we have the holy trinity of “I have just seen the clone of my deceased parent/parental figure/lover.”

Featuring: Bonus ‘I’m Almost Over It’ Pearl

Also, I need y’all to make this into a meme:

For example:

Anyway, alright, alright. 

That relatable feel when your (hot) dead lesbian lover’s clone asks you if you’re okay after another one of the (less hot?) clones offers you a whole ass stick of butter to eat. 

And then you and your friends all hide in the bathroom to talk about your feelings:

Okay, the rest of the episode gives me FEELINGS and I love how hard Steven is trying, so I’ll just close it off with:

I LOVE THEM. Unironically, they are EVERYTHING I had hoped Rose Quartz would be. They’re SO MUCH like Rose herself - did she model her personality after them? Or are they just like her because she WAS like that, and they’re made from her essence? WHO KNOWS?! They’re adorable!

And the conflict between them and Steven is honestly so gooD! I don’t know if it’s completely relatable but I’m glad they ended up talking it out.

I wonder if we’ll ever see Her again... you know who I’m talkin’ about. 

Her....

I’m madly in love with Rose, ok, I don’t need a callout post. Just leave me be.

EP 4:  VOLLEYBALL

Alright, alright, alright.

OKAy,.... It’s fine. It’s FINE. I’m fINE. 

Confirmed: 8000 years. That’s. UH. A LOT? That puts our timelines quite a ways back. We kind of estimated as much, but still, it’s so jarring to think about. And PP is VERY casual about it. 

She’s also VERY casual about the injury.

“This is all Pink Diamond!”

It doesn’t seem like it bothers her to talk about it at all. She’s not even trying to keep it a secret. So I’m almost wondering - was there a connection to her being taken by White and the injury at all or not? 

She came to Steven to get healed - she clearly wants it gone. At the time she was injured, did Pink not even attempt to heal the injury? 

Follow up question: If she DID care, why didn’t she try to heal it?

Follow up to the follow up: Was it because she didn’t know she could? Or did she simply not have the time to (White removed her before she could)? 

When Steven goes pink, she gasps - but makes no further comment. It’s presumably because she’s seen this happen before. She doesn’t try to move away, weirdly enough - she asks him if everything is alright. Perhaps the context is too different for it to be triggering for her. Perhaps there’s more layers to it? HMMM. 

What follows is, perhaps, the SALTIEST we’ve seen Pearl since Greg rolled around.

“Did you come to compete?”

This is doubly curious to me because Crewniverse has previously explicitly stated that Pearl was NOT in love with Pink Diamond. She was in love with Rose. So if this is true, why would Pearl care about her place as Pink’s Pearl? She is supposed to be past all that, isn’t she? 

And yet as time goes on, the salinity grows exponentially. Alright, you two, I know you’re Pearls but tone it down with the sass. 

(Also, I’m sorry but I will NEVER call her Volleyball. That’s all. Bye.)

Also it’s worth noting that... PP is clearly VERY much in love with Pink.

This is, perhaps, where the lack of a grudge plays into it. She’s completely enamoured.

Moreover, she’s VERY casual about how she talks here. This isn’t exactly how one talks of their Diamond. This is how people talk about their romantic partners. She calls Pink silly, calls her ‘funny’. That’s not exactly a term of respect - it’s way more intimate than that. 

Also, did anyone else notice how, although CG Pearl’s gem is usually shaded in teal, it’s in Pink in this episode? VEEEERY subtle, Crew.

Also, we can’t quite see Pink Pearl’s expression fully here because her working eye isn’t visible, which makes it hard to get a read on things like

“I’m older than you.“ Is she just saying it casually? Or is she fully aware that she’s poking fun at CG Pearl? 

HI SHELL. ISN’T IT FUNNY HOW YOUR VOICE AND YOUR NAME ARE A SUBTLE NOD TO PORTAL, WHICH IS FORESHADOWING HOW BADLY THIS IS GONNA END. 

Meanwhile, Pearl continues to be in character.

“No need to be overly... attached.”

And this has nothing to do with anything but

she cute

Aaaand now it’s creepy again.

The rest of this is super important so let’s get to it:

“Oh, no. Pink did this.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s a funny story, really. Once, Pink got tired of asking Yellow and Blue for her own colony, so she went straight to White. Of course, White told her she wasn’t fit to run one... and well! That set her off.”

“Set her off? What are you talking about?”

“You remember how she was! With her destructive powers, throwing tantrums left and right! She had a scream that could crack the walls. She didn’t mean to hurt me! (giggle) I just happened to be standing too close to her that time and--”

And then Steven interrupts. 

We get more CG Pearl arguing for how wrong this image of Pink is to her. What CG Pearl knew was a totally different (or, well, same, but VERY changed) Pink. 

But what we have to prove our point is Steven himself. He rolls into the EXACT same state as Pink presumably did - and begins to over-use his powers. 

(This isn’t the first time we have seen him use this attack.)

The reactions from the Pearls are telling - this is clearly not Pink Pearl’s first rodeo with this type of Mood. 

And it’s important to note that Steven clearly didn’t direct any attack AT them. He simply yelled - and the whole dang place literally started to crack. There’s weight to the argument that possibly, Pink really DIDN’T mean to hurt her Pearl - that she was just collateral damage. 

Which doesn’t make it any better, obviously. Even if Pink had no direct intention of hurting her Pearl (and there are theories that Pink purposefully hit or threw Pink Pearl or somehow physically acted directly to damage her, which I was skeptical of) the result of it is still the same.

If you raise your voice and yell, even if you’re just yelling because YOU are hurt/have feelings, you might still hurt the people around you. If you throw a tantrum, even if your direct goal was just to let off some steam without aiming to harm anyone, whoever gets in your way is still the victim. 

And this is all very much On Brand for Pink’s timeline as we know it. We already knew this about her - we KNEW she tended to throw tantrums (like in the flashback on Jungle Moon) and that she was childish. The fact that she accidentally hurt her Pearl in the process because she had no self-control at that period in her life comes as no surprise. 

(Although it’s important to mention that perhaps hurting her own Pearl WAS the breaking point during which she finally realized how her emotional outbursts could have negative consequences on those around her.)

And this is a very beautiful message - even if Pink Pearl still doesn’t want to blame Pink for what was done to her (”But... she didn’t mean to!”) Pearl brings the point of it back around to her (”But you were still hurt!”) The point isn’t the person who did the hurting - the focus is on the victim and how they were affected. 

And the rest, I daresay, is history. 

I like the fact that they managed to still bring it back around to the main message: 

It isn’t about just “Pink was bad”. It’s about how she did bad things. And there were multiple sides to her - multiple stages. And the Pearls who knew her knew different sides of her - the side that didn’t know how to be a good person, who was selfish and childish and unrestrained... and  the side that was, arguable, too restrained. Who hated her own past, her own character and her own mistakes so much that she would rather bury them and keep secrets from everyone. 

And neither of those things were good, and neither were healthy, but they are a GREAT contrast to a GREAT character arc that is, arguably, still being unearthed. And we have so much more context for it all now. 

I, for one, can’t wait to see and discover more of Pink through Pink Pearl - no matter how ugly that side of her might be. I think it gives great perspective to her later growth. 

And if you ship the Pearls.. .well, I get why. 

Personally I’m not interested in it that way. Call me unromantic - I don’t think their relationship NEEDS to be shippy in order to be satisfyingly deep. I love the idea of them having a deep bond over this - a shared past, a shared experience, and gaining confidence through one another. 

Cheers and thanks for listening!

[mst3kproject]

The Navy vs the Night Monsters

Of course, it’s not like bad things stop happening now that 2020 is finally over… we just get to start counting again from zero. Kind of like how I’ve started counting thirty-six Episodes that Never Were per year, beginning with this one. It was co-directed by Wyott Ordung from Robot Monster and features familiar faces like Russ Bender and Mamie Van Doren, the latter for once not playing a teenage delinquent.  It also has one really obscure MST3K connection: it was based on a story by Murray Leinster, which the sharp-eyed will remember as the name of the ship attacked by Evil Count Zarth Arn’s lava lamp weapon at the beginning of Starcrash!

A plane carrying specimens of Antarctic flora and fauna makes a rather rough and unexpected landing at a naval base on remote Gow Island in the south Pacific.  There appears to be nobody on board except the pilot and a few penguins – the former is in a catatonic state, and the latter are... well, penguins... so what happened to the rest of the passengers and crew is a complete mystery.  Did the pilot go mad and kill them?  Did the penguins?  Or did it have something to do with those mysterious ancient trees discovered growing around a geothermal spring in the heart of the frozen continent?

The first ten minutes of this movie are spent trying to be a comedy.  Before we get anywhere near the plot, we first have to listen to the guys on the plane try to be funny about their lunch and their tastes in women.  Then on the island, we watch a guy who can’t seem to figure out how to inflate a balloon, followed by a dude talking to his dog, and then a really icky bit where two women convince a man he had sex with both of them, which he buys because he was too drunk to remember.  Only then do we finally establish what’s actually going on.  The impression one gets from this beginning is that The Navy vs the Night Monsters is going to be peopled entirely by Jackass Comic Relief characters, and I actually turned the film off and sat on it for a couple of days to psych myself up to watch the rest.

When I finally turned it back on, to my relief the movie turned out not to be quite that bad, but it’s still pretty damned bad.  The dull and unfunny opening is followed by an abrupt shift of tone, as a man maddened by terror jumps from the plane to his death!  The only thing set up by the opening that turns out to be relevant is Spaulding the meteorologist’s crush on Nora the nurse, when she’s in love with the base’s second in command, Lieutenant Brown.

I complain frequently about useless love triangles in movies.  This one is very useless, and all the more so because the script totally forgets to resolve it.  Spaulding hates Gow Island but stays because he’s in love with Nora – he wants her to go back to Miami with him and marry him.  When he puts this idea to her, however, it becomes obvious that Nora can’t stand him, and it’s clear enough why: Spaulding is an asshole and he treats Nora not as a partner but as a possession.  Never does he show any sort of tenderness towards her.  Every time they speak to each other, he seems to end up shouting, and his jealousy of Brown repeatedly leads to violence.

Brown, on the other hand, treats Nora with respect and actually shows vulnerability around her.  He’s been left in charge while the base’s commander is on the mainland attending an important meeting, and he’s really feeling the pressure as the base is surrounded by tree monsters in the dark.  He talks about his anxiety and Nora comforts him, and the audience rolls their eyes because it’s perfectly obvious which of these guys she’s going to pick.  And sure enough, at the end she’s in Brown’s arms… but nothing about the whole situation is exactly resolved.

Brown and Spaulding did get in a fist fight, though it wasn’t explicitly over Nora, but nobody ever talks about the problem. Spaulding never realizes that he’s treated Nora badly, and it never seems to even occur to him that she might prefer Brown over him, or even that she has emotions or preferences at all.  He definitely never seems to understand that he’s lost.  Brown and Nora seem to feel a need to hide their love affair from the other base staff, but we’re never given a reason why (although I guess ‘Spaulding’s a dick’ is reason enough).  Nora never tells Spaulding that she prefers Brown… maybe she’s afraid he’ll assault her?  I hate everything about this situation, but nothing more than the fact that as the movie progresses we get hints that Nora may be warming up to Spaulding, as if she’s supposed to consider these two guys equal contenders for her affections!  Fuck everybody who wrote this, seriously.

It’s kind of sad to see Mamie Van Doren in a role like this after meeting her in things like Untamed Youth and Girls Town.  Those movies were gross and exploitative, but Mamie’s characters were central to their plots and she filled those shoes reasonably well.  She wasn’t Oscar material but for what the films were, she was enough to carry them.  The Navy vs the Night Monsters is a little closer to being a ‘real movie’, but in this respect it represents a step down for her, as she is relegated to being something for two men to fight over.  Furthermore, Silver from Girls Town and Penny from Untamed Youth were both characters who required some range – Nora the nurse mainly spends the whole movie being annoyed with the men in her life.  Van Doren could have done much more if anyone had bothered asking it of her.

Let’s see… what else do I hate about this movie? I hate Private Chandler, the guy who stays a Jackass Comic Relief character once that opening is over. Shockingly, The Navy vs the Night Monsters actually kills him off, but he’s not nearly as annoying as Dropo or the guy from Outlaw, so his death merely feels mean rather than having any entertainment value.  The guy was just about to actually get laid by one of the women who’d made fun of him earlier – though she, like Spaulding, showed no sign of being sorry for past jerkitude.

I hate the monsters.  Normally I have a soft spot for plant monsters.  They’re a cliché in their own way, I guess, but they’re a fun idea.  The ones in The Navy vs the Night Monsters kill and digest people with acidic sap, and a character theorizes about how and why such a thing would evolve, which is cool. The execution, however, sucks. While the poster for the film shows us a humanoid Treebeard-looking thing, the actual monsters in the film are dumb-looking stumps that waddle along like a couple of guys trying to move a piece of furniture corner-by-corner because it’s too heavy to lift.  The result reminds me of The Creeping Terror, in that you have to want to get eaten by these things.  At one point a guy walks right up to one, inspects it, and escapes its clutches merely by backing away slowly!

The trees reproduce using insect-like larvae that are, themselves, lethally venomous.  This is also a neat idea which is, once again, ruined by the execution. The tiny ones are being pulled along the floor by a sometimes-visible string, and then they grow into stumps that look like they should be stools around a boy scout campfire, which move even slower than the adult trees!  There’s a scene where the characters are holed up in the base under an onslaught of these, with planes arriving to napalm them just in time, and it is ludicrous in its attempt to feel threatening.

I do like that Gow Island is a bleak middle-of-nowhere rather than a tropical paradise.  The landscapes kind of remind me of the Falkland Islands, though the weather on Gow is evidently better.  You can see why some of the characters hate it here, surrounded by barren scrub inhabited mostly by ten thousand smelly, raucous seabirds. Unfortunately this backdrop makes the ‘comedy’ opening seem even more out of place, though it’s also kind of nice that they didn’t give us any stereotyped ‘natives’ as either comedy or monster fodder.

As for a theme… well, The Navy vs the Night Monsters is clearly about an invasive species.  The biologist, in suggesting how the tree monsters evolved, points out that they are suited to the hostile environment of Antarctica in ways that make them nearly unstoppable anywhere else.  We’re told that they devoured all the penguins the scientists were bringing back for study, and as well as eating the people, they wreak havoc among the Gow Island seabirds and reproduce out of control.  The parallels to things like cane toads in Australia, or housecats just about anywhere, are obvious.

This isn’t something the characters care about, though, even the ones who profess to be scientists.  At the end, enough of the trees are destroyed that the humans can safely evacuate, and what happens after that is clearly Gow Island’s problem, not humanity’s. I really would have liked to see the script go into this a little more, but then, The Navy vs the Night Monsters is not a movie that wants to go into anything, even stuff it sets up in some detail.

At the end, The Navy vs the Night Monsters feels pretty half-assed.  Somebody wanted to make a movie, and then put in the bare minimum effort possible to have all the parts present.  They clearly understood how movies work, but they didn’t have the money and didn’t want to go to the trouble.  The result is deeply mediocre.  There’s a few laughs out of the dumb stump creatures, but mostly it’s just bad.

[andmaybegayer]

The cultural positioning of typewriters, or: I promise I’m not corporatecore come back it’s fine.

I got a typewriter! If you want a documentary breakdown of that you should read this post, but this is going to be about what typewriters were used for back in the 20th century and how utterly batshit the entire ecosystem there was.

Typewriters were used by three main groups of people: journalists, authors, and secretaries. I don’t really care much about the first two, because while they used typewriters, their job was not typewriting. Typewriters were popular for journalists and authors because typewritten drafts and manuscripts were easier for editors and typesetters (and indeed, legibility is a big reason for the adoption of the typewriter in all parts of the world) but typing is not what journalists and authors do. Authors compose and edit, and journalists research and write, but only secretaries type.

(I read an interesting paper about this three-way split, you can read it here)

In the 1800′s, secretary was a job given to a strapping young man with a bright future in business so that he could learn the trade, but after some wars and other social pressures that reduced the supply of male secretaries, and a convenient confluence of women learning the skill of typewriting, the female secretary became a thing. Suffrage movements were pretty happy about this for a while: Women in the office! How progressive! Of course, the role of secretary very quickly stopped having a progression path to management, and it picked up all the usual misogynistic stereotypes that you probably know today.

If you’re over 45 you probably know what the job of secretary used to look like, but for those of you who aren’t, for most of the 1900′s secretary was a job that revolved around typing letters, missives and notes in a legible and consistent format. This is important, because the alternative sucks shit. If you were mid level manager Johnson Q. Goodfellow at the Racism Company, and you needed to tell the Racism Factory that they needed to produce 400 more units of Racism this week, you could try calling up the manager at the factory and telling him this. Unfortunately, there’s all manner of things that could go wrong here. He might misinterpret you saying “produce 400 more” as “produce 400 only”, in which case you might have a Racism shortage. Or he might mishear entirely and produce only four more, if your accent is particularly bad.

Instead, Johnson Q. Goodfellow could get a secretary to create a missive (in quadruplicate, using carbon paper) and get the 17 year old who hangs around your lobby to courier two copies out of town to the Racism Factory, and you can keep two copies for your own records. Very low chance for errors now, since either side can refer to their copies to find out what was intended. A secretary would also add dates and ensure all communication meets business standards.

(This is also why there’s no red telephone between Washington and Moscow. It used to be a teletype: a text transfer machine. Later, it was Fax, and nowadays it’s encrypted email and text chat. All text-based systems, written in the sender’s native language and translated on the other side to provide the lowest chance of a misunderstanding and high chance of being correctly recorded.)

How would that letter get written? If you were an audio or shorthand typist (a highly skilled profession requiring extensive training at a secretarial school) you would either be a personal secretary to a single executive or a high-ranking member of a secretarial pool. Either way, your manager would dictate a letter, and you would have to convert it into a typewritten document. Originally this would be done by a secretary capturing the speech in real time in shorthand, and later it would be captured on a microcasette and transcribed with the assistance of a dictation machine. On the other hand, a simple copy typist can only work in the secretarial pool, and you would get a hand-written draft from a manager, likely one too low-level to have his own secretary or even his own microcasette recorder. This would possibly be sent back for checking, either by the manager or by your superior, and then all copies would be sent wherever they were needed. The jobs are otherwise similar, apart from a lack of real progression for copy typists.

(A good pop-media example of shorthand typing is the “speed test” song from the musical “Thoroughly Modern Millie”, a rendition of which I will link here. It’s also a treasure trove of the kind of ridiculous stereotypes that existed around the secretarial profession, as a musical made in the 60′s about the 20′s. Millie is a fawning social-ladder-climber who gets her job explicitly to someday marry her boss, who is a self-absorbed dipshit. I was a stagehand on my high school’s production of this, so I know the whole thing from memory. Please send help.)

Why don’t the managers type their own letters? Well, partially because of the weird skill split on typing: typing was a woman’s skill back then, many men would not even know how to type, and those that did may be extremely slow hunt and peck typists who would make many errors and produce uneven, sub-par manuscripts. Secretary was kind of considered a fallback profession in some cases: schools taught it to girls the same way woodwork was taught to boys. You don’t necessarily want to become a carpenter/secretary, but if you can’t find a decent company job/suitable husband, the skill can support you until you track one down or die. Man, the 20′s-70′s were insane.

There’s some interesting status stuff to talk about here. If you’ve ever seen an old movie where a rich dude takes out a tape recorder and makes a note to himself, that’s the movie’s way of telling you that this guy is powerful enough to have a personal secretary. It implies that later he’s going to put that in an envelope and leave it on someone’s desk and the next day when he comes in, any reminders he made will be on his calendar and any notes will have been typed out in full.

Secretaries type as a profession. The speed expected of an acceptable secretary is a sustained 70 words per minute, which is about what I can do in an extended session. A good secretary could easily surpass 100, and there’s an old navy typist training video of the fastest typewriter typist in the world reaching 180 wpm on demand, and since correction on typewriters is tedious, your accuracy was expected to be near on 100%. On old manual typewriters the skill of keeping all letters even was an additional challenge, since you provided the mechanical force for the type bars. Electric typewriters, like the one I have solve this problem, but it’s still a complicated skill.

Before the invention of the typewriter, the only way to produce clear, reliably text was typesetting. Typesetting is of course, a noble profession, but not something you can easily do in the office on a whim, and wholly unsuitable for one-time messages. Standardized writing in the office reduces the chance of errors and improves your ability to find out who’s to blame when something goes wrong.

Nowadays secretary is not really a job that exists anymore? You mostly hire Executive Assistants and groups of lower managers share a single Executive Assistant rather than accessing a pool of secretaries. Typing is also no longer the name of the game, instead it focuses on maintaining schedules, synthesis of letters from prompts from your manager, and serving as a gatekeeper for mail and meetings. The name has changed because the job has changed, describing an executive assistant as a secretary would be like referring to the blades of a combine harvester as a scythe. That’s not to say secretaries don’t or can’t type, they are still often the most skilled typists in an office (I have seen multiple photos of macbooks with the coating worn clean off their keys by a legal secretary or medical scribe) but most executives are now capable of performing an adequate job of typing and editing on a computer.

If you wish to do some further reading, interesting resources I found while doing some research that I haven’t linked above for this include:

This quora answer from a woman who was a secretary in the 70′s

This series from an EE magazine about what it was like to work in a typing pool

[vampbait-a]

|| Cemetery Roses

|| co-written with @cynaram 

Previous: [1] [2] 

It hurt to open his eyes. It hurt to move.  It hurt, somehow, to think.   Ah, yes.  This was the result of eight uninterrupted days of work.  Cabal got out of bed piece by piece, staggered to his housecoat, and went to apply water, razor, and tea to his unpleasant body.  After that, he would see what his library could yield on the subject of llamiae.

There was little to find, except a book of blood magic some five hundred years old. Steeped in scandal, a vampire prince's torrid affair with an infernal succubus: their progeny a living mixture of the two. Feared by peasants for their cunning and ferocity, llamiae were sought by necromancers and sorcerers - often to seek the condition for themselves. These tales did not end well.

There were no accounts from the last century, many occult historians questioning if the succubine vampires existed at all.

The subspecies was the offspring of a succubine and a vampire; it was no wonder Laurelai hadn't much sense.  He shut the book with a disdainful snap.  So, llamiae had been enslaved by necromancers to exploit their natural talents.  He wondered if Laurelai was familiar with this history, and if so, whether she might fear him luring her into a similar arrangement.  

He dressed.  When went to pick up the matchbox, his hand hesitated over it before he dropped it in his pocket.

In the cellar, he rapped on the lid of Horst's coffin.  “She will be here soon.  Get up so we can talk before you start fixing your hair.”

Horst opened the lid, yawning as he rose - as though his heels were on a hinge. Dressed in pajamas, he stepped down.

"I'm up, and I never need to fix my hair that much." He stood at his dresser, selecting his ensemble. Horst glanced at his brother in the mirror, arching a brow.

"What did you want to talk about? Putting down newspaper for your new pet-project?"

“I wouldn’t have invited her into the house if I didn’t think she could control herself.  Control herself more generally, I mean, I’ve no reason to….”  Why did this always happen when he spoke with Horst?

“I met Mlle. Laurelai last week, when she drank one of my contacts.”  Cabal briefly outlined their interactions, skipping the more embarrassing confusions and the kiss.  “She fears guns.  She avoids the touch of silver.  She fled daylight.  Just pick something Horst, it is a waistcoat, not a blood oath.  You can take it off later.”

He collected himself.  “On the other hand, she is fast.  And acrobatic, which suggests strength.  Her skin is cold.”

The opening and closing of drawers became steadily louder with each point Johannes ticked off, until Horst was bristling with tension.

"There's no need to convince me to stay, if that's what you're attempting." He dressed as he spoke, choosing hues of baby-pink and lavender beneath a suit of navy blue. "I knew she was dangerous the moment I laid eyes on her- I'm not trying to be rude, but Johannes, her teeth! If she's drinking your contacts, why continue talking with her? She's obviously unbalanced." he gestured with one finger at his temple in a circular motion.

“I am aware this is risky.  But I needed that gas, and the lab results have been so exciting, Horst.  Once I have rested, tomorrow, or perhaps tonight, I will test the next steps of….  But yes.”  He stored away the spark that had briefly lit his eyes, wherever he kept it.  “I continue talking with her because that was her price - we will spend some time together and play games.  It is not so much to ask.  I can be back in the lab by midnight.”

"Her price? For what? This gas?" Horst was no more assured of Laurelai's sanity, and he turned to face Johannes as he pinned his cravat.

“Yes.  She may be mad.  I agree there is something odd about her.  But Horst, she has occult powers.  She can see ghosts.  Llamiae were enslaved for that talent by necromancers, once.  Perhaps she could….”  Cabal’s eyes went distant.  “If she can walk through my wards, what else might she be able to do?  What if she might be hired?”

Seeing that faraway look on his brother's face, Horst began to form a new suspicion. He didn't like it.

"These other necromancers you keep mentioning. How did it turn out for them and the llamas?" He asked pointedly. "Hire her? With what, checkers and the occasional nibble?"

Downstairs, there was a rapping at the door, and the mail-slot flipped open, bright lavender eyes peering in. "Bonjour! I have arrived!"

Voices echoed in the little house.  “I keep telling you, the word is llamia….”  “…that foppish garment…”  They went suddenly quiet at her announcement, and Cabal stepped lightly down the stairs.

He slowed to see the eyes peeking through the mail slot.  “You will step back, Mademoiselle, so I may open the door.”  He disengaged the locks, bars, and latches.  “Good evening.  Come in.”  He raised a finger.  “I would take it as a courtesy if you did not attempt to harm my brother.”  He looked at the floor above and raised his voice. “Whatever the provocation.”  

Laurelai did as asked, stepping back as the door was opened. Although dressed in the same clothes as the night before, she appeared dustier- having slept in the local cemetery.

He continued. “Be careful what you touch. There is silver around the house and many dangerous things.  Remain on the ground floor unless you are explicitly invited. Do not ‘solve’ any of my other wards. I am Johannes Cabal.  Come into the parlour.”

"Johannes Cabal?" She smiled at him. "You are lucky to have two names. I just use one, but sometimes I say 'Wingates' to blend in. Not often."

Cabal had three names, but mentioning it would only provoke another question. She looked surprised by Cabal's requirements and tilted her head curiously. "Are you very used to others trying to kill you? I will not attempt to harm anyone, cheré, but I will defend myself if he grabs me again."

Cautiously, Laurelai peered into the hallway but did not at first enter. She had never been in a private residence before, and the temptation to explore was overwhelming. Finally, she stepped inside, squinting slightly at the profusion of light as she looked around in simple wonder.

“Yes, I am very used to murder attempts.  Horst thought you were attacking me last night.  And even then he did not try to kill you outright.”  Cabal frowned.  Not that he thought about it, it wouldn’t do to have Horst coddling attempted killers.

"Why? Do they not like you?" Laurelai couldn't imagine why a man like Cabal would be disliked, and she seemed puzzled as she followed him into the parlor. Bare feet left dusty tracks on polished wood floors and carpet alike as Laurelai walked directly over to the singing box upon the mantle, completely ignoring the chessboard.

"What is this?" she asked, visibly resisting an urge to pick up the box and shake it. It ceased its humming and fell unusually silent. Laurelai's attention was short-lived, and there were many things in the room she thought interesting.

Half a second later, she was peering at the shelves of books and running her fingers over the spines.

"...you have a very nice house!"

It was disquieting to have a stranger in the house.  He had sufficient reasons for inviting her in, but actually seeing it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  The way she kept touching things didn’t help.  

She didn’t seem to require answers to her string of questions (a string that he could dimly begin to see stretching out, endless, into the past and future), so he asked one of his own.  “Do you read?”

"Non," Laurelai had a book in her hands, and looked down at the colorful illustrations that accompanied each encyclopedic entry. Some of the words she could recognize, but they were small and unhelpful as a whole.

"I would like to learn, but I do not know how to start." she sat down on the floor cross-legged, looking at prints of ancient hieroglyphs.

Behind Cabal, Horst appeared in a small current of cool air. He was smiling politely until he saw the grave dirt and bits of flower petals and leaves all over the floor.

"I see she brought the garden with her." Horst did not seem amused by the trail left behind by Laurelai's bare feet, and he went to fetch the broom to sweep up the worst of her mess. "I think I see why you like her. She's like one of your zombies."

“Horst, you are aware Mlle. Laurelai can hear you?”  Cabal rebuked his brother with stunning hypocrisy.  

Laurelai was frowning intently up at Horst, the book forgotten.

Horst looked over at her, immediately realizing his mistake. "Sorry, Miss. Hello, Miss." he said, though the sight of her covered in so much dirt was hardly gratifying. He continued sweeping up, and then retreated to the kitchen.

“You would not find that script so helpful,” Cabal said to the llamia.  “But it would be easy to find a teacher for the Roman script, so you could read French and German and English.  Shall we start the game?”  Cabal gestured her to an overstuffed chair by the board; he almost quailed when he saw the dirt she had left on the bare floor, but he refused to acknowledge it.  That would be admitting Horst had a point.

"Game?" Laurelai set the book aside and stood, looking at the chessboard. She had never seen one before, and moved to sit in Cabal's armchair- crouching atop the cushion.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" Horst bit his tongue at the sight of Laurelai on the furniture when he returned and looked at his brother in obvious pain over the upholstery.

"What?" Laurelai looked confused, immediately climbing down with a cornered expression.

Evidently there would be no game until the two blood-drinkers settled the crucial issue of dusty upholstery to their satisfaction.  “Horst is piqued at the dirt you’ve brought into the house.  He is critical of messes he didn’t make.  I beg you will not concern yourself.”

Laurelai's eyes flicked from Cabal's to those of Horst, and then down at herself. She frowned, seeming to consider, and then hooked her fingers behind her back and addressed Horst politely:

"I beg your pardon, but I slept in the cemetery. I do not have other clothing." she told Horst humbly but unapologetically.

"Does this dirt bother you?" she asked Cabal, seeming far more concerned about his feelings than those of the vampire.

“Not today.  Does it bother you?  If you wished to…”  Cabal tried to remember the polite phrase, “…refresh yourself?  There are facilities upstairs,” he said doubtfully.  He shot a glance at Horst, hoping for rescue from this unorthodox turn of the conversation.

Horst simply smiled encouragingly.

Laurelai had never thought about her appearance before, though now that she did it probably explained a few things. Namely the reactions people had towards her. She frowned thoughtfully.

"How about I let the two of you get cozy over your little game, and I'll have a look in the storage room. Maybe ...maybe I can find you something new to wear- bring out those eyes of yours-" Horst decided charm was a better tack and smiled at Laurelai. "And after the game you can have a good scrub."

Laurelai looked at the brothers and offered an awkward smile.

"...would this be a good thing?" she asked Cabal, tempted but hesitant. "Humans do this?"

Cabal felt a small righting of the cosmos as Horst tried to charm their guest.  

“Humans do this,” he agreed gravely.  “Whether you also do it is up to you.  It might be useful, and it would save some sweeping.  Now.  Have you played before?”  He nodded at the board.  Excellent. They would play, and then Horst would assist Mlle. Laurelai, and he could go back to work on the new process.

That seemed to settle things. Laurelai smiled more easily and nodded at Horst. "Oui."

That more than satisfied Horst. He clapped his brother on the back and left them to their game to seek out the items he needed.

Laurelai relaxed once he was gone, and seated herself at the chessboard. She liked the knights, and held one in her palm; the ivory matching her skin.

"I have not. Is it difficult?"

“The game is not difficult.  Besting your opponent may be.”  Cabal briefly outlined the game: its object and the movement of the pieces.  “It is conventional for an experienced player to ‘spot’ a beginner a piece at the beginning of the game, to even the competition. I could play without my queen?”

"No handicaps. I learn quickly." Laurelai purred as she replaced the knight, her smile slightly devious.

Perched comfortably on the floor with the board at eye-level, she moved a pawn. Every detail was absorbed by clever eyes; each breath Cabal took measured and calculated as part of the game. Her memory keen, each mistake a clue to winning.

She growled as he claimed her bishop.

His eyes narrowed. In his preoccupation with the game, he had almost forgotten who he was playing.  She was competitive and a fast learner.  He approved.  He baited a trap, waited to see if she would take it.

Laurelai was also inexperienced, and she seized upon the move with a triumphant laugh- until she lost another piece.

She nearly stood up- hands outspread as if she might rend the board to shreds with glasslike claws.

She had lost.

Instead, Laurelai laughed and clapped her hands.

"I adore this game, Monsieur Cabal! May we play again?"

Cabal could admire someone who was gracious in defeat, particularly if he was the winning party and ‘graciousness’ extended to not clawing out his eyes.  He checked the clock.  “One more.  And then I shall return to work.”  This had almost been pleasant.  “Beware anything that seems too easy a gain, Mademoiselle.”

"Oui! But of course!" Laurelai laughed, delightful as she began to reset the chessboard.

She counted each piece with a glasslike nail, emitting a happy purr and fluttering dark lashes at Cabal.

"You are very clever. I like the challenge." she spoke earnestly, allowing him the opening move. "Stupid people annoy me, and I tend to drink them before the conversation gives me a headache. Does that ever happen to you?"

“You live an enviable life, Mademoiselle.  Not everyone can indulge whims that freely.  Let us play.”  He turned his eyes to the board, away from her sudden onslaught of purring and eyelash-batting.  With any luck, she would be as patient with her second loss as her first.

"You do not indulge yourself? How sad that is." Laurelai was sincere in this, unable to imagine the drudgery of a life without fun. She addressed the game, avoiding pitfalls and cleverly claiming a rook.

"Food, fun, companionship, sex- these are great joys." she watched him. "What is the point of living if not for this?"

“You are a hedonist. I do not envy a life spent pursuing empty pleasures.”  Cabal felt obscurely irritated and attributed it to the lost rook.  He advanced a pawn.  “I prefer to work.”

"There is nothing wrong with fun." Laurelai shrugged, feeling very little need to argue. She turned her attention to the game, unburdened by his opinion.

Laurelai castled her king, recalling the move from earlier observation.

"What do you do?” She asked. “I watched you, but I could not figure it out."

“When did you watch me?”  Cabal was immediately distracted from the game.

"Last night." she met his gaze. "I did not want to interrupt, it seemed rude."

“Ah.  On the roof.”  He relaxed.  “I am a scientist.  That is my laboratory.  I research and experiment.”

"I thought you were a necromancer?" Laurelai was aware of the distinction in language, and the change in title confused her. Or was he lying?

"Look at what I found!" Horst interrupted, sweeping into the room with an aged gown of pale green silk. Accustomed to far more contemporary ladies, he smiled widely as he knelt to present his find to Laurelai.

Laurelai looked at it briefly, uninterested.

"I cannot climb in that."

Horst looked crestfallen. "Climb?"

"Oui."

“Mademoiselle Laurelai enjoys climbing.  She is very skilled.”  Cabal kept his face carefully neutral. He didn’t enjoy hearing the word ‘necromancer’ fall casually from acquaintances’ lips, not even from people as unconventional as Laurelai.  However she had learned it.  Had he hinted?  Or had her spirits told her?

He couldn’t decide whether Horst’s entrance was a rescue or an irritation.  Cabal was a scientist.  He wanted to defend himself, his profession, though he doubted Laurelai cared what he called himself.  She didn’t seem to find the idea offensive.  

Cabal moved a bishop; this would take them into the endgame, and then Horst could happily spend the rest of the night trying to coax Laurelai into being his fashion plate.

Laurelai was uninterested in Horst or his gown, her favor clearly upon the younger Cabal and their game. She smiled at the compliment, ignoring the loss of her knight. She was more interested in the trap he was carefully setting.

"What were you doing last night? With the smoke in the glass tube?" Laurelai asked Cabal.

"But..." Horst looked pained, and he stood up again. "It's cleaner than what you have on, and you'll need something to wear after you bathe."

She had quick eyes, and she watched Cabal more than the pieces.  That did not make him uncomfortable.  She was watching him for weaknesses, and she would find none.  

Her queen caught his eye.  Why had she not moved it up to threaten his?  Then he saw it and almost smiled.  She had a trap, too!  Not a subtle one, but neat and without unnecessary complication.  Better and better.  He would need to plan around that.

He pulled his attention back to the conversation.  “The glass…? Oh.  I was using the gas I acquired from you last week.  That smoke was from the canister.  It has a chemical effect I have been trying to produce for some time.”

Unused to being ignored, Horst stared at Johannes and Laurelai with a frown. At least no one was fighting, he decided, and Laurelai seemed nice even if she was odd.

Horst sighed and sat down to read, the spurned gown beside him.

"I was wondering why you wanted it. That effect is curious to me. Why do you need iridescent smoke?" She had become distracted by the conversation and by his interest in his own work.

He moved his knight to threaten her bishop.  He was tempted to derail the question by reeling off enough technical detail to choke a peer-reviewed journal.  If his so-called peers weren’t megalomaniac degenerates who were incapable of forming a review panel.  Moved by an obscure impulse, he told the truth.

“I work in the field of necromancy, but I am a scientist.”  He gave her a challenging look.  “That gas, used in small quantities, may solve a biochemical issue I have been struggling with for years.”

Laurelai was immune to challenging looks, and Cabal's half-glare prompted a small smile. She claimed the bishop, and rolled the ebony piece between her fingertips.

"I think I understand. I hope this gas has helped?"

Horst had stopped reading, and was watching curiously; his brother was making friends! Begrudgingly, he had started to like Laurelai.

“It has.  You will find that is checkmate, Mademoiselle.” Cabal stood.  “I must return to my lab.”

Laurelai blinked and looked at the board. He had won. Again.

She growled under her breath and stood, mentally shaking off her defeat as she faced Cabal.

Horst stood as well, unsure what the growling meant.

"I want to play again." Laurelai said.

"Oh, but you'll let your bath get cold!" Horst interrupted, wrapping an ill-advised arm around her shoulders.

Laurelai immediately bared her fangs and slipped from Horst's friendly hug.

"Ne me touche pas!." she warned.

Horst did not speak French and looked at his brother.

“Mlle. Laurelai does not wish you to touch her.  I can repeat that in German if the phrase isn’t familiar in English.”  He nodded a good-evening at Laurelai.  “I will be working, but perhaps you can persuade Horst into a game,” he said, blithely throwing his brother to the wolves.  “Let us speak again before you leave.”

He had an idea maturing in his brain, and he wanted to give it further consideration before proposing it to Laurelai.

"Oh! No touching!" Horst held his hands up, hoping to placate the wild woman and avoid any confusion. He gestured to the stairs. "I'd be happy to play, but wouldn't it be nice to get cleaned up? I have a lovely rose scented shampoo…."

"Roses?" Laurelai perked up with the word, her desire for another game forgotten. She nodded absently at Cabal, looking now at Horst.

"Uh, yes?" Horst wasn't sure what he had said to earn such intense attention, and he gestured for Laurelai to follow him to the second floor. "You can bathe, and I'll see what I can do about cleaning your clothing." as well as everything else you touched, Horst smiled. "In the meantime, a dress would look pretty on you."

"Why does being pretty matter?" Laurelai's endless questions about everything continued as Horst closed them in the bathroom- the sound of running water soon following.

Cabal’s steps quickened on the stairs as he thought about the crucial point he had reached in this series of experiments.  Through the bathroom door he could hear the sounds of running water, Laurelai’s questions, and Horst’s bemused replies.  But she could be reasoned with.  She seemed glad to have been helpful in the matter of the gas; he must consider it.  

It took longer than might be expected for Horst to coax Laurelai into the bathtub- in part due to the amount of time he spent dumbstruck by her figure and lack of shame. There was minimal shrieking, and what sounds could be heard through the floor did not sound angry.

At least until Laurelai kicked Horst out of the bathroom.

He appeared in the attic doorway with a slip of aged paper in one hand.

"Do you have a minute to chat while she's busy? I think I've found something." Horst said.

Cabal put down the valve he had been inspecting.  “You are going through her pockets, now?  How underhanded.  What did you find?”

"Only to be polite. I was going to wash her clothes. I think it's an article?" Horst had his shirt sleeves cuffed to the elbow, his waistcoat damp. He crossed the room and handed the paper to Johannes.

"That's her in the picture, isn't it? I can't read French very well, but it's a theater show, isn't it?"

The ‘article’ was actually a testimonial- some ten years old. Laurelai was clearly pictured in a dramatic pose: reclining with a human skull and other occult objects.

Medium! Dance of the Dead! the playbill proclaimed, going on in frivolous script of the occult powers of the scantily clad woman: one Mlle. Laurelai Wingates.

“Of sorts.” Cabal held the paper delicately. The scrap told him little; she had performed upon the stage, once.  After she was turned?  Before?  Had she had true talents before the change, or was this a strange coincidence?  

“I may ask her about it.”  He gave Horst a brief, uncomfortable look.  “Are you bored, Horst?  Mlle. Laurelai - Mlle. Wingates, it seems - is not our charge.”

"No, but aren't you curious? I mean, she isn't like me at all! She's warm and breathing, and her heart is beating- not as much as yours, mind you, but she's not dead." Horst was perplexed as much as he was excited; if such a creature existed, could there be hope in his own condition?

"If she was made to be like she is, that means that it is a virus, like you hypothesized?"

Something downstairs broke: the sound of Laurelai cursing in the tiled bathroom following.

“She is alive?”  Cabal didn’t hear Horst’s evasion.  He had not suspected Laurelai was alive, if the story of the dual vampire and succubine heritage of the condition was true.  

The train of thought was cut off by the sound of a porcelain soap dish meeting the floor and shattering into a thousand splinters.  Cabal winced.  “Go. Weren’t you supposed to be keeping her out of trouble?  I will…” he would have to leave his workbench without completing the test.  “I will follow you in a moment.  See if there’s something of mother’s she’ll wear.  Something less formal.”

With a nod, Horst vanished.  Cabal didn’t procrastinate; he put his materials away, descended the stairs, and awaited Laurelai in the parlor with the paper on the hearthside table.

The next twenty minutes were not as simple as Horst would have liked; nor was helping Laurelai to wash and brush her hair pleasant. A misunderstanding cost Horst his waistcoat when her nails were employed defensively against the brush.

Once the worst of her grooming was out of the way, Horst left Laurelai to dress and walked downstairs to the parlor. He wished he could have a brandy.

"Do not underestimate her. She’s feisty.” Horst commented, looking pained as he took off his ruined waistcoat.

A moment later, Laurelai followed. She was much less wild looking now that she was clean and groomed, her dark curls drawn up in a pale pink ribbon. Although still barefoot, she looked like she did in the picture. "I do not think I can climb in this."

Cabal was amused. “But you would attract less attention in public, if you wished it.”  She looked more human, less a creature of blood and bracken.  

It was not a comfortable change to witness.  His fear of her had lessened as his curiosity grew, but this was the problem: Cabal could understand, even relate to a creature who saw the world in terms of predator and prey.  A person with a past, a pink dress, and a matching hair ribbon was a stranger, subtler creature.

He did not think this through.  He only knew he was uncomfortable.  Best to get it over with.  He gestured at the paper.  “It was not my intention to pry.  You will rightly think this is none of my affair.  I do not approve of a frivolous interest in the private lives of others; be assured, I have my reasons.”  He was talking too much.  “But I wish to know; were you a medium before your conversion into a llamia?”

Laurelai looked down at her dress. It felt wrong, loose around her hips, leaving her feeling underdressed. She glanced at Horst, who smiled back. She tugged at her skirt, disliking the feeling of the air moving around bare legs.

Then Cabal spoke, and her eyes fixed upon the paper in his hand. Violet hues narrowed, and Laurelai said nothing as she walked forward to reclaim her possession.

"<I do not know.>" she switched to French, untrusting of Horst. "<I do not know how I came to be as I am. Why is he staring at me?>"

<“You look different from before.  Additionally,”> Cabal sighed, <“he stares at women sometimes.  You may wish to swat him gently with something.”>  

"<I did. He is persistent.>" Laurelai sighed and tucked the aging paper into the bosom of her dress, resolving to ignore her admirer.

He switched back to English.  “You do not know how you were changed?  You have no memory of a human life?  How far back do your memories go?”

Cabal's question drew her attention, and she counted on her fingertips as she thought. Finally, she gave a date some five years prior.

"<I dug my way out of the refuse, a shallow grave, Monsieur. I had that in my pocket, and a small book I cannot read.>" she tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening. "<Why? Do you know me?>"

A small line appeared between Cabal’s brows.  “No, Mademoiselle,” he said gently.  “I do not know you.  I would have told you before now.  And yet. You could learn more of your past if you wished.  It seems you were a public figure of sorts.”  He cancelled his next thought.  It would be the work of an hour in a newspaper archive to….  No.  He had no time.  A book?

"Oh." The glimmer of hope that had previously filled Laurelai's lavender hues at the thought of being recognized vanished. Her shoulders dropped, and she moved to sit in the overstuffed chair.

“Well.  Perhaps you had a native gift that was made stronger by your conversion.  Your follower Frank; is he here now?”  He regretted it almost as soon as he’d said it.  A demonstration of her powers would be educational, but he had a growing desire to bring the evening to an end.  His strength was not back yet, and he had spent the best hours of the night. He should go to bed and start fresh at dawn.

"Frank? Non, he could not come past the gate." Laurelai sighed and picked up the white queen from the chessboard. "There is only le blonde belle, here. Who is she?"

Cabal’s mind stopped. He strove not to understand something he had understood immediately.  If there was one ghost here, if there was one spirit from all those whose bodies had passed under this roof, if she was a woman, and blonde, if she was beautiful, then….

He revolted against the idea.  She slept.  He knew she was dead, but it was only for now.  At the very lease, she wasn’t hanging about the parlour.  This was an innocent confusion.  This was a lucky guess.  This was manipulation, though how or why he could not imagine. He didn’t dare look at Horst.  “I have no idea who you mean.  Describe her.”

"You don't know her? She follows you." Laurelai looked surprised, though she was used to skepticism. Standing, she seemed to take measure of someone who was not standing beside Cabal.

"She is perhaps a little taller than me. Pretty, and young. Blue eyes, and there is a sadness there. She is blonde, and her hair is like mine." Laurelai meant curly, and gestured to indicate that fact.

"Who is she?"

Horst had stopped reading, looking stricken by the conversation.

“I know any number of blonde women.  Perhaps it is Miss Barrow.”  Cabal’s smile was ghastly.  “I have not heard she died, but following me about would be a fit hell for her shade. You have told me nothing.  Mediums deceive with generalities.  Hair and eye color, both common.  Vague sentimentality.”  The words flicked out like a knife.  He glanced, unwilling, at the empty place Laurelai had watched. “If you cannot give me better proof, I must disbelieve you.”  He must, or what would he be forced to feel now?  

It occurred to him that Horst and Laurelai must be able hear his heart.  He wished it would stop.

Laurelai floundered, at a loss. She had expected to be believed - had he not been understanding so far? "...I.."

"Maybe we shouldn't?" Horst offered, on the literal edge of his seat. He had a bad feeling - like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

"She is wearing a white sun-dress, with yellow flowers on it," Laurelai was more earnest now, and tried harder to focus upon the woman she perceived. "Her ears are pierced with pearls, but one of her shoes are missing… She is speaking…" Laurelai raised a hand to her temple, concentration etched in ivory. "She says..."

Horst was right: they shouldn’t. Cabal should never have invited Laurelai in, never should have allowed this intimacy, but now that it was happening, now that the still frame of this moment bound them in place and inexorably flicked to the next, there was no stopping it.  

Cabal was standing opposite Laurelai, eyes full of hate or of pain in extremity.  Without realizing it, he had one hand half-extended towards her: to stifle the flow of words, to touch her, who knew. He was no longer entirely here.

Pearls. Pearls were for tears, she’d laughed, and he’d been embarrassed; he hadn’t known they were a bad-luck gift. But pearls were almost as common as blue eyes.

It was the bare foot.  The single bare foot he had forgotten until now, with the green blot of river-mud staining her instep. The smell of the river water was strong in his nose, rising up from her as it dried in the sun.

Horst looked on in confusion and dawning horror, but he didn't know how to stop the tempest he saw building in his younger brother. "Miss Laurelai? I think that's enough, you can stop now."

"She says--" Laurelai repeated, and then an odd posture overtook her figure. She went stiff and limp all at once, her head tipping back as if she were nothing more than a puppet. Her expression became blank- eyes unfocused as a voice that was not her own issued past borrowed lips:

"My mother wears pearls, and besides, aren't you supposed to be saving money? You're so sweet to me, Johannes, but I won't have you standing in the bread line just to buy me pretty things..."

It was Berenice’s accent, her cadence.  He had never forgotten her voice, but even a good memory is not perfect.  It was like the shock of cold, pure water, hearing it. He could not see her, but it was true, some part of her was there in the room with him.  It was more than he could bear, and yet the words came on, assembling into sentences, into a half-remembered conversation that issued from the llamia’s blood-red lips.  

”Nein, halt, stop, you will stop….”  Laurelai did not hear, or at least the voice kept coming.  It was inexorable.  It hurt him.  He had no words, wanted to shout to drown it out.  He lurched towards Laurelai, put his hand over her mouth. Tighter.  Tighter.

Laurelai's head tipped back under the force of Cabal's hands on her face and neck- his grip on her enough to bruise a mortal woman. The voice was silenced, lavender eyes blinking in sudden awareness as the connection was broken.

"Johannes!" Whereas Horst was at first frozen in horror at what he had seen and heard, his brother's sudden outburst prompted action. He didn't know what Johannes meant to do, and fear lurched cold in his slow-beating heart.

"Let go! She doesn't know!" Horst pulled Johannes back.

Laurelai fell to the floor as Horst pushed between them- her mind reeling, weak from the force that had overtaken her. What had happened? She looked up at the brothers in fear and confusion, her head pounding.

Johannes fell to his hands and knees when Horst released him.  It was silent in the parlor, except for his heavy breathing.  His hands made fists on the carpet.  

“Go.  Now. This instant, or I will not be responsible for what I do.  Go. How dare you.  How dare you.”  It didn’t matter that he asked her, taunted her to do it.  He was a pit of rage and pain and guilt.  Every wound had been reopened.  Now she saw him in the aftermath, and that was unforgivable as well.  He dashed the tears from his eyes.  “Now.”

Laurelai looked at Cabal in hurt and confusion - unaware of what had occurred during her trance. He was angry at her, the rage seeming to seep from every pore.

She scrambled back, tried to get up and tripped on her skirt, falling again.

"I am sorry!" She managed, fearful of the brothers as she made it to her feet- nearly tripping again. The paper clipping fell from her dress, ignored where it fell. Pitiful, she ran.

Horst didn't know what to say, his own expression fraught. "Johannes, I don't think she meant to-"

He was interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open, and the cries of startled pixies as Laurelai fled the house.

[jumpingjaxx13]

Fluffy proposal/Wedding planning for Thrawn/Eli if you're still taking prompts!?

((But of course! I hope this is alright!))

“I’ve been thinking. We’ve been together a while now, and with your new promotion and whatnot, I reckon…  Maybe we should get hitched?”

The two of them had been lounging in the comfort of the Grand Admiral’s suite, basking in that sweet, rare moment of calm. Eli’s legs were slung over Thrawn’s lap, his head resting on the arm of the sofa as his lover used his shins to prop up his datapad. It was the little, quiet moments like these where words weren’t necessary- where he could just watch and admire the man he loved without the pressures of imperial propriety weighing down on them both. Here, they didn’t need to be the Chiss grand admiral and the backwater hick from Wild Space; they were simply Mitth’raw’nuruodo and Eli Vanto, two men in love and enjoying each other’s company.

And it was beautiful- no, Thrawn was beautiful, composed of elegant angles and an aura of cool intelligence that he couldn’t help but resonate. While stoicism appeared to be his favored face, Eli had long since picked apart the microexpressions; a curve of the lips, a bow of the head, a shift of weight, a glint in his eyes, and infinitely more ways to read his true feelings. When he’d first pointed this out, Thrawn had been so proud…

Of course, he always preferred the macroexpressions. When he smiled- when he really smiled- his entire essence lit up, and Eli swore that the room grew warmer tenfold. He didn’t frown when sad- no, he deflated, his confidence and pride leaking out of him like air from a depressed balloon until he collapsed. These moments were saved for when they were alone and he could sink into Eli’s arms, where he knew he couldn’t be reprimanded for such a vulnerable display. Raw anger frightened him more than any blaster could, for the room shrank into darkness around him, those vibrant red eyes the menacing source of Thrawn’s unhinged passions. To this very day, Eli would insist that a truly angry Thrawn was the most dangerous beast he’d ever encountered, though he refused to tell the tale. But nothing endeared him quite as much as when he pondered something, his brow furrowed and his lips pouted into a little, concentrating dip, such as he had been when he let that fateful statement slip.

Thrawn turned his head to look at Eli, a glaze of puzzlement on his face. “Get hitched?”

“You know… Tie the knot? Buy the bantha? Jump the blaster..?” Greeted by nothing but that same blank expression, Eli sighed, swinging his legs off from Thrawn’s lap and sitting up. His tongue swiped over dry lips as he tried to ignore the nervous skip in his heart. There was nothing to worry about. At the very least, he would suffer a moment of embarrassment and the pair would move on. Thrawn wasn’t the kind of person to hold a harmless social blunder over his head… was he? “Get married, Thrawn. I wanna know if you’d like to get married. To me.”

“Oh.” Thrawn blinked, regarding him for an eternity-ridden second before turning back to the puzzle on his datapad, cheeks taking on a faint purple hue. “I don’t see any reason to refuse. There would be no garish ceremony, of course, but I believe that I would… rather enjoy that.”

Despite himself, Eli gaped. Was that… A blush? He didn’t even realize it was possible for him to blush like that, as if the necessary gene had been wiped from his DNA. His throbbing heart sped up tenfold, a beam brighter than a thousand suns stretching across his face. Shifting so he was propped on his knees, he rested his hand on Thrawn’s shoulder and pulled himself up to plant a chaste kiss on the tinted cheek. When the color darkened, a surge of affectionate pride swelled through him. “I think I’d enjoy that, too.”

Clearing his throat, Thrawn offered a slight smile, hardly greater than a twitch of the lips, but Eli knew better than to take it at face value. If he was overwhelmed by this, then one could only imagine what the Chiss was thinking… Unable to bite back a bout of laughter, Eli rested his head on Thrawn’s shoulder and pulled him into a tight embrace, careful not to interrupt his puzzle.

Later that night, when the full gravity of their arrangement finally pierced the haze of excitement, they made good work of leaving the mark of their engagement on one another for anyone to see.

Needless to say, there were only two types of reactions to their announcement; those of disgust and those of elation. They were much akin to how people behaved when the pair became an official partnership, but these.. These reactions were much more fervent. It appeared to Eli that being a human (even one from Wild Space) dating a nonhuman was one thing, but marrying one was another problem entirely. The wild differences between reactions gave Eli whiplash- tossed back and forth between Colonel Yularen’s enthusiastic congratulations and venomous criticism from the likes of Captain Slavin and Admiral Konstantine. One benefit of dating the Grand Admiral was that it made him virtually untouchable, but it definitely didn’t make him deaf. All things considered, he could let them talk- it wasn’t as if he was new to the xenophobic attitudes of the Empire, and the pair of them were just about as xeno as they could be. His parents, however, were another story.

To give them credit, they tried their damnedest to be polite. Regardless of the origin of the guest, it was Wild Space custom to be as gracious a host as imaginable, but when this alien guest was pledged to steal away your pride and joy..? The rules could bend.

“So,” his mother started, staring intently at her son. She’d only spared his fiance a few quick glances, if only to remind herself that he was still there. “How is this… How is this going to work? Are you taking his name? Is he taking ours?”

“He doesn’t have a surname. At least, not like we do,” Eli clarified, looking over at his fiance- oh, how he adored associating that term with Thrawn- and taking his hand. On his ring finger shone a simple band of gold to symbolize their engagement- easy, yet elegant, just like the man himself. “We just figured it’d be best to keep what we already got instead of complicating things between cultures and whatnot.”

The beginnings of a frown tugged on his mother’s lips, and Eli couldn’t help the little pang of guilt. Ever since he was little, she’d been anxiously awaiting her dashing son’s beautiful, traditional wedding. Now, not only was he marrying a nonhuman, but he was marrying a nonhuman whose language wouldn’t allow for a union of names. Not to mention that, as she would soon find out, the pair had no plans for a ceremony, either- as much as he wanted one, it would take far too much time away from Thrawn’s duties as Grand Admiral.

As if sensing his distress, Thrawn gave his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“W-Well, what of a wedding, then?” she prompted, sparing Thrawn a pointed glance that reeked on unjustified blame as if he had corrupted her boy. “I see the rings. When is the ceremony?”

Inwardly, Eli sighed, the protective walls he’d built up around his conscience beginning to weaken. He knew he wasn’t a disappointment- how could he be? He’d risen above his backwater upbringing to become a respected, ranking officer in the Imperial Navy and seen more miracles in the galaxy than he could count- hells, he was engaged to one! No, he wasn’t a disappointment, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he was disappointing.

“Actually, we-”

“We haven’t decided on a venue yet.” Eli jumped, not bothering to hide his shock as he turned to his fiance. His expression was unreadable, hovering somewhere between intrigued and coy, making his stomach twist. Thrawn had planned something. “Seeing as you are much more familiar with such things than I am, we thought it best to solicit your advice in selecting a time and place for the ceremony. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

For their parts, Eli and his mother were the human manifestation of dumbfoundedness, but for two hilariously different reasons. This was the first time in the entire meeting that she’d heard the Chiss man speak, save for a polite greeting. As for Eli, his awe originated more from the fact that he’d been explicitly told that such a trivial ceremony would only hurt them both- only give the bitter masses an excuse to claim that Thrawn was slacking off. Could this, perhaps, be a ploy to satisfy his mother? Or had Thrawn truly had a change of heart? Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as a surge of hope tinged his cheeks. He would definitely need to ask about that later.

“Is… Is that so..?” his mother chimed, her voice holding a caution she tried so valiantly not to physically express. Folding her hands in her lap, she regarded Thrawn fully for the first time, and Eli watched with complete amazement as her tight posture slowly began to relax- not enough to suggest that she was comfortable, but just eased enough to show the beginnings of acceptance. At the very least, she was finally making eye contact with him.

“Well, then. If that’s the case, then you’d best come with me,” she insisted, rising to her feet and breaking away from that hypnotic red gaze to nod in another direction. “I’ve got plenty of holos from a whole bunch of places. I’m sure there’ll be a couple you could consider. You don’t need cold, do you? My husband and I hate the cold.”

A slight smile tugged on Thrawn’s lips as he let his hand slip from Eli’s grasp, rising to his feet with the intent to follow. “Neither is your son,” he mused, sparing his fiance a teasing glance. “I do not mind either way. I shall be comfortable regardless.” This, of course, was a grand lie, for as much as the senior Vantos disliked the cold, Thrawn was already feeling the effects of Lysatra’s grueling heat on his system. Hopefully, his cooperation would lead to the selection of a more temperate climate that would easily satisfy them both.

“Come now, Eli,” he said, holding his hand out in offering. “Unless you’d rather I make the call alone..?” The speed with which Eli took his hand and pulled himself to his feet said enough about his dissent in that matter.

“So… What made you decide to do that?”

Eli’s question broke the silence that had washed over them. The pair had long since returned to their suite on Chimaera to settle in for the night. His legs swung lazily off the edge of the bed, inquisitive gaze following his fiance- the term still not having lost its heart-fluttering appeal- as he undressed. A white suit gave way to a soft, cotton undershirt that exposed his well-toned arms for Eli to admire. He liked seeing that strong, gentle blue almost as much as the sharp angles and professionalism of his military attire, and often found himself sitting to the side as Thrawn trained with his droids. Sure, it was a touch self-indulgent, but Thrawn definitely put on a marvellous show.

Folding up his shirt alongside equally sharp, white trousers, red eyes glanced over at Eli from over his shoulder. “Decide on Naboo? You were there with us. It's an imperial territory renowned for its historical and aesthetic significance, and its climate is a satisfactory compromise between the needs of both parties. Not to mention the artwork that originates from there-”

“-That's not what I mean,” Eli interrupted, feeling only slightly guilty about truncating Thrawn’s musings. Once the Chiss started his encomium of the arts, there remained very little which could stop his flow of passion, and, as much as Eli adored seeing that extra sparkle in his eyes, they had things to discuss. Shifting on the bed, he propped himself up on his knees and leaned on his hands. “You said we couldn't do a ceremony. I've been talking myself up from disappointment for weeks because I didn't want to push something that you didn't wanna do, and then you pull this? I think someone owes me an explanation.”

“Ah.” Thrawn stilled, and Eli didn't need to see his face to know that his expression had contorted in thought. As if this was some sort of strategy that needed to have every nook and cranny cleaned out before implementation… Not bothering to hide his feelings on the matter, he sighed heavily and leaned more heavily on his hands, patiently awaiting the anticipated conclusion to this unnecessary brainstorm.

“I hadn't realized that it would be this much of an issue to you,” Thrawn confessed eventually, turning to face his counterpart. “It is true that I originally had no intention of investing myself in a ceremony due to the rigor we both undergo. My commentary was meant to be a way in which to placate your mother- to find common ground and find a baseline from which she could learn to trust and accept me.”

Eli’s stomach bottomed out, the blood rushing from his face and leaving him rather pale as a shroud of disappointment washed over him. Typically warm eyes narrowed dangerously, a haze of red covering his vision as he regarded him. Teeth gritted, Eli spoke with overt caution so as not to lose his temper.

“So… What you're sayin’.... is that you just tricked my mother- tricked me- into believing that there will be a wedding that you never intended to follow through on..?” Despite his best efforts, he couldn't mask the wounded frustration in his voice. This, of course, did not go unnoticed by Thrawn judging by the way his eyes widened and his lips drew in a soft gasp.

“No, of course not. I only said that I originally had no desire to participate. After conversing with your mother, actually viewing the potential settings, and seeing how excited you became, my perspective on the matter changed entirely,” he clarified, obviously perturbed by the venom Eli was subjecting him to. For the first time since they first got engaged, a hint of purple kissed his cheeks as he stepped toward the bed and brushed his fingers over Eli’s heated cheek. “I decided that to deprive you of something you were so obviously enchanted by would be cruel. Besides, I've found that I'm not completely abhorred by the idea of taking some time off to go to Naboo…”

Eli blinked, skin tingling in a traitorously pleasant manner where Thrawn’s hand lay on his cheek. “Hold on,” he stated, brow furrowing in confused concentration. “Don't get me wrong- I really want this, but you deciding you think Naboo is ‘aesthetically significant’ or a ‘sufficient compromise’ or that you like seeing me happy isn't gonna change the initial problem. Unless you tricked me about that, too.”

Frowning, Thrawn took a seat beside Eli and enveloped his hand in his own. If Eli didn't know any better, he would've sworn that Thrawn was… ashamed, of all things. He followed that ruby gaze down to his hand, noticing that the Chiss had taken to admiring their matching rings rather than answer his question. Pursing his lips, Eli, shook his head.

“You did, didn't you?” Thrawn’s lips parted with the intent to reply, only to find himself robbed of voice and instead simply continued to entertain himself with Eli’s hand. Eli would have needed to be insensitive not to feel how his grip tightened, as if desperate to hold on but unwilling to keep him against his will. “Thrawn.?”

“On Csilla, we go where we are meant to go,” he stated. “There's none of this superfluous celebration of union or necessary ceremony to attend. At most, there is a recognition between families of the legal partnership, but all this talk of love is typically kept between those closest to you. Needless to say, I was a touch… surprised when this whole ordeal began to fan out. I fear I embarrassed you on more than one occasion because of my romantic ineptitude, and I certainly didn't want to implement it again in such a momentous occasion. It was never my intention to upset you.”

For the shortest eternity, Eli simply stared, searching his fiance’s form for any sign of falsehood. Finding none, a strange flutter of amusement rose in him, drawing a soft chuckle to his lips. “You mean that you, the great Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo, fearless warrior and master tactician of the Empire, have been avoiding a fancy ceremony because you’re insecure..?”

At that, Thrawn stiffened. “Now, I wouldn’t say insecure, exactly…”

“Krayt spit,” Eli interjected, though his tone was much lighter than the words typically implied. Twisting his hand so that his fingers intertwined with their cerulean counterparts, he laughed openly and shook his head. “You know, for such a brilliant man, you can be a plain imbecile sometimes. You could’ve just said something and it would’ve been fine- I’m the last person who would judge you for nontraditional customs, you know?”

Finally, Thrawn looked up, and Eli was relieved to find that the inkling of shame that had been present just moments before had begun to dissipate into a familiar, confident contemplation, but not yet completely. “Yes. I realize now that I was being foolish.”

“Yes, you were,” Eli confirmed, knowing that such an affirmation would blow no bruise to Thrawn’s ego. Granted, he wasn’t about to stroke it, either. Shifting closer, he let their joined hands drop back down to the mattress and planted his free one on his lover’s hip. “Now, what was this about you being romantically inept, hm?”

A flash of something shone in Thrawn’s scarlet gaze that made Eli’s stomach twist pleasantly. “I believe that you intend to call ‘krayt spit’ on that claim as well..?” he prompted, subconsciously leaning closer to the human.

Eli smiled with a teasing wink. “Like I said. Brilliant.”

If there had been anything left to say, it got lost in the tides of time. Eli, having the advantage, closed the miniscule gap between them to join their lips together. Thrawn tasted like how he imagined the cold would- a blast of mint, a fragile sweetness, a frigid heat, a kiss from a gust of arctic wind. A larger hand laced through his hair, making him shiver as he was pulled impossibly closer, his body being maneuvered into straddling Thrawn’s thighs. The only warning the Chiss got that Eli had other plans was the impression of a devious smirk into the kiss before he was pushed down onto the mattress entirely, his lover collapsing atop him. Breaking the kiss, Eli rested his face in the crook of Thrawn’s neck, breathing in the essence of him.

“I love you,” he muttered against his skin, arms slung over Thrawn’s chest and legs tangling into a complex knot. “Even if you do drive me up the wall.”

Thrawn pursed his lips. “That one means that I frustrate you, yes?”

“You learn fast,” he praised, kissing the joint of his jaw affectionately.

Humming in satisfaction, Thrawn took the initiative to move the two of them further back onto the bed until his head hit the pillow, careful not to disturb the (quietly snickering) human that clung to him. Turning the lights off, he wrapped one arm around a narrow waist as the other took to carding soothingly through impossibly soft hair. He watched as Eli’s breathing slowed, his eyelids fluttering in a peaceful sleep and his body limp against his own. Smiling into the night, Thrawn planted a kiss on his fiance’s forehead before letting his own eyes fall victim to the allure of the dreaming night.

“Ch'ah ch'acah vah”

((I hope this is what you wanted!))

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[gyrlversion]

Trump Takes ‘VA Choice’ Lie To Next Level With Bonus Lie That McCain Failed To Pass It

WASHINGTON — President Donald Trump often fabricates accomplishments for himself and at times falsely strips them from others, but a new lie manages both: Claiming credit for a veterans program that his late nemesis Sen. John McCain actually did help create.

“The vets — the VA was in horrible shape. Now, they have choice. And nobody could get choice,” he told ABC News recently. “John McCain couldn’t get it. Nobody could get it. They tried for years. They couldn’t get it. I got choice for the vets.”

In fact, the provision of the law that Trump touts most often — the ability of veterans to get private medical care if VA waitlists were too long — was something that McCain specifically pushed for and eventually won in his negotiations with then-Veterans’ Affairs Committee chairman, Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.).

“He has no ethics of any kind,” said Mark Salter, a former speechwriter to McCain, the longtime Republican senator from Arizona who died last year of brain cancer. “Nothing is too outlandish or dishonest.”

On the Senate floor on June 5, 2014, Sanders praised McCain for sticking by his principles and pushing the private doctor “choice” element even though Sanders disagreed with it. McCain responded: “We were able to come together I believe in a way that will help relieve this terrible tragedy that seems to have befallen our nation’s veterans.”

Following the compromise struck by McCain and Sanders, the legislation passed both chambers and on Aug. 7, 2014, was signed into law by then-President Barack Obama — notwithstanding Trump’s repeated false claims that the “VA choice” law was something that he himself achieved.

“They have trying to get it passed for 44 years. We got it passed,” he told a rally audience in Panama City, Florida, last month.

“We passed VA choice,” he repeated to an Orlando audience on Tuesday. “You go out now, you get a doctor, you fix yourself up, the doctor sends us the bill, we pay for it and you know what? It doesn’t matter because the life and the veteran is more important.”

The White House declined to comment on Trump’s falsehoods on this topic, and would not say whether Trump was knowingly lying or simply did not know the facts.

For him the truth is no better than a lie, and if it doesn’t serve his ego when a lie will, then the lie is preferable to the truth. Former McCain speechwriter Mark Salter

“For him the truth is no better than a lie, and if it doesn’t serve his ego when a lie will, then the lie is preferable to the truth,” Salter said. “That’s his only value: Does it serve his ego or not.”

Trump did sign into law the “VA Mission Act” last year, which extended the 2014 law and eased the eligibility requirements. But Trump has never made that claim. Instead, in speech after speech, interview after interview, he has falsely taken credit for the original law, telling his audience that prior to him, veterans who faced extended delays at their Veterans Affairs clinic or hospital simply had to suffer.

Trump allies in Congress acknowledged that McCain was instrumental in passing the 2014 law but pointed out that it was due to “sunset” last year. “Under President Trump’s leadership we were able to create a permanent program to give veterans greater choice last year,” a Republican aide in the House Veterans Affairs Committee said on condition of anonymity.

Trump, while he has been falsely taking credit for having created the “choice” program since last summer, did not explicitly make the equally false claim that McCain failed to pass such a law until last week’s ABC News interview.

His animosity toward McCain, though, began at least four years ago after McCain said Trump was “firing up the crazies” in his outreach to an “extreme element within our Republican party.” Trump, a few days later at a campaign event in Iowa with religious conservatives, disparaged McCain’s status as a Vietnam War hero. “He was a war hero because he was captured. I like people who weren’t captured,” Trump said. “I don’t like losers.”

McCain was a Navy pilot who was shot down and held captive and tortured for five and a half years in Hanoi as a prisoner of war. Trump, in contrast, claimed he had “bone spurs” in his heels and received a medical deferment. Years later, he told a radio host that he considered avoiding sexually transmitted diseases in those years his own “personal Vietnam” because of all the different women he was sleeping with.

After the Oct. 7, 2016, release of the “Access Hollywood” tape in which Trump is heard describing how his celebrity allowed him to grab women by the genitals, McCain was among a sizable number of Republican office holders who withdrew their endorsement of his presidential candidacy. And in 2017, McCain cast the deciding “no” vote in the Senate blocking repeal of Obama’s Affordable Care Act — a vote Trump has been attacking McCain for even after his death.

In a speech at an Ohio tank factory this March, Trump told the audience that he was also angry with McCain for his role in passing along to the FBI a “dossier” of information compiled by a former British intelligence officer regarding Trump and his campaign’s ties to Russia in late 2016.

“John McCain received a fake and phony dossier. Did you hear about the dossier? It was paid for by Crooked Hillary Clinton. Right?” Trump said as the audience booed McCain. “And John McCain got it. He got it. And what did he do? He didn’t call me. He turned it over to the FBI, hoping to put me in jeopardy. And that’s not the nicest thing to do.”

Trump, his White House staff and his allies in and out of Congress have been actively trying to discredit the former British officer, Christopher Steele, as well as special counsel Robert Mueller’s report that detailed Russia’s efforts to help Trump win the election as well as numerous instances where Trump tried to shut down Mueller’s probe.

Steele had previously helped the FBI break open the FIFA bribery scandal. His Trump work was for an opposition research firm originally hired by an anti-Trump GOP donor, but which found a new client in Democratic nominee Clinton’s campaign after Trump secured the GOP nomination.

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[bt2018bt2018]

Retail Insights February 17, 2018 http://ift.tt/2EyaG22

Click on an image below to zoom in & open photo gallery >>

Overhead TV in video game shop tells u what games are popular at the moment

Shopping Baskets for your convenience

Discounts Signage at every exit or entrance and turning points in the departmental store

Race Track in Sportswear Retail Store

Use to Balloons to demonstrate lightweight of Jewelry

How tall are u in LEGO Bricks

Unlimited Talk & Text with COLES Prepaid

Giant Display Pen at Melbourne Pen Depot

Sports Shoes in Disguise

Signs with quotes around clothing store

How to show discounted price on price tags

Mannequin's nipple showing through clothing

Smiley bookends

Smiley face next to SALES sign attract customers in

Arrow on overhead sign direct customers to store

Spotlights for perfume

Scooter Driver earns income by driving advertising board

Customer Comments on Whiteboard outside store

Y u should quit smoking

Y not buy a pet tag for ur pet

Turn background wall of florist into greenery

Giant Lego Brick on top of Shelves Attract ur Attention

How do u retract Bag Strap so that it stops distracting u

How do u retract Bag Strap so that it stops distracting u?

I bought a bag from Kathmandu at Emporium Mall, Melbourne CBD, Victoria, Australia. I really like that I could Velcro the bag straps to keep those unsightly straps from hanging out and distracting me and accumulating dirt and bacteria. I wish that you could implement this feature in all your bags that allow the wearer to velcro all the bag straps. 

Please take a free copy

U will not buy what u cannot see clearly in the darkness -Kate Spade

Bookshop's Overhead Sign direct u to the right section to locate your Book

Reminder Tag about how much savings u will get when u earn X amount of Points

If only I can Press a button or Plug in my Earphones to hear the sound system of the Display TV.

Television Playing Cartoon integrated into Toy Shelves attract Kids to pester their parents into buying toys

Departmental Store's Mirror with brand name on it

Get Exact In Store Shelf Locations with KINO Navi app

OFFER signs installed next to entrance or exit of departmental store

Flower Petals adorn Jewelry

Organise Magazine Types with Tabbed Labels

Baby Care on the Go!

BE HAPPY Balloons in store ignite positive moods in customers = higher chance of sales and increase Salary Increments from Profits

Services at a single glance at Officeworks

Free Balloons at Officeworks

Giant GIFT Cards Overhead

Bag Frame Products

Ribbon tie SALE tag next to product on Store's Front Window

Photo Image of Model wearing outfit on Clothing Rack in Store

Ribbon on Front Window of Chocolate Shop

Balloons in Retail Store

Imagine Explicitly Advertise BPA Free - Food Safe Containers max DAISO's Management bonus

Overhead TV wants u to buy TEMPUR mattresses

Touchscreen tablet introduce u to features of Tempur products

Kathmandu's Ambient Lighting Levels Design

Bottle Opener LED Carabiner

Clothing Alteration Services seen at a single glance from store front

Retail Store Green Star Store Rating

Fluxing Paper Strings on Blowing Fan attracts customer attention

Overhead signs remind customers that there are more stores below

Store apologise for not having pets in

-O- design as Monkey Head

BrandName integrate with what it sells to quickly communicate selling point to customers

AS FEATURED tag on clothing stand in David Jones mall

Bright Coloured Handkerchief in Suit Pocket grab customer attention

NEW ARRIVAL Tag on clothing hanger

Whatever, i'm late anyways WATCH

Artsy Visual Merchandising of Optometrist

Merchandise is protected from Theft by ink tags

Pair Matching Ties with Color of Work Shirt to eliminate mental fatigue and poor fashion choice of male customers

Door Lock auto locks when you enter, Lock Unlock when you press handle down without need to turn knob to unlock door

MOVIE or QUIRKY fan with eyeball on one of its blade with rotating eye as the fan blades turn. Complete with Eye Lashes

Simplistic Clothing Hanger Stand

CHANGE the way you look at things and the the things you look at CHANGE

What are the reasons to love shopping at David Jones mall

Stockings in David Jones mall

NEW tag max profit on Kitchen Gadget

Explicitly remind children that learning is fun with these posters at Officeworks

Flower Petal Make Up Mirror

Style Straight to your Inbox by David Jones mall

Heart Shaped Visual Merchandising Display by PETER ALEXANDER

Shirt Ironing Service Message and image on Dirt Trapping Floor Mat

Deal of the Week

Y can't I elevate tables easily to the right height

Sign encourage you to talk to any of the friendly staff about office solutions

Candle Ink Stamp as design on bag

Baskets at easy to reach levels at Officeworks

Why doesn't EFTPOS Machine display amounts to customers at multiple vantage point

3 in 1 Gym, Duffel, Backpack with Velcro that hide unsightly straps, locking feature, no zip compartments accessible by the public

Pile of Bags grab my attention

How do you play with ur phone while having a haircut

Rotating LEGO Toy Display

BIOCHEF Kitchen Gadget

Clothing Shelf by SuperDry with Wheels

Y not communicate all new products instore to customer at a single vantage point

You do not need to install EXIT Signs at 90 degree right angles

Golden Images on Red Packets Signify Wealth in the coming year

Gold Stamp on Property Agency Brochure remind prospects of Wealth Generating Opportunities

Artsy Post-It with Panda

Typo in BIO CHEF Brochure

Hi!

Would you please correct your brochure on the typo "Nutrients" (See photo attached) as it seems unprofessional which =loss of Sales;Profits & significantly reduced ur Salary increments & Bonus

sales@biochef.com.au

13 in 1 Kitchen Gadget - BIOCHEF

RAM UPGRADEABLE TAG sells laptop

AS SEEN ON FACEBOOK Tag in DAISO

Communicate the quality of images shot on phone in order to max profits on sale of phones

Coloured Zipper Tag needed to eliminate frustration from looking for zipper that are of the same colour as the luggage or bag

Model's Tattoo on Ad Poster attract a niche market = max profits

TRY ME sign on toy engage customers hands = max sales n profits

Align brand name right next to sales or discounts sign eliminating customers attention gap

Turn hair salon mirrors into selling point with decorative frame around border

Overhead mirror turn un-utilised ceiling space into selling points

How do you push a card inserted into a casing pocket out easily

Y not place shoe product in front of mini Tv that show different ground terrains

Pair shopping baskets with brochures in departmental store

Gift ribbon tying bath towels

Selling points integrated into ironing board

Gift ribbon integrated with photo frame

Rotating product retain customer attention longer

Turn elevator doors into advertising space for departmental store

Coloured zipper wanted for backpack and luggage bags

Problem

 Solution

Kathmandu Australia

249 Park Street, South Melbourne

PO Box 984, South Melbourne

Victoria, Australia 3205

Attention: Chief Executive Officer

RE: Coloured zipper wanted for backpack and luggage bags

Dear Sir/Madam

Please see photos attached: I hope this letter finds you well. I bought a backpack/Duffel Bag 3 in one item from your Emporium Mall store in Melbourne CBD. I find it difficult to locate the zipper as the zipper and its zipper string is black in colour which blends into the (background) colour of the backpack (black). I created a DIY solution for this by separately purchasing a different coloured luggage zipper string from MYER Emporium. I wish that you would consider selling coloured luggage zipper strings in your stores (this cannot be patented). Or otherwise pair coloured zippers with all of your products as an alternative or as is. This will create an additional revenue stream and enhance customer retention not to mention eliminating stress, confusion from trying to locate the zipper through the thousands of times a user engages in opening the bag. The time saved would translate into productivity for work or play which means money for Elite bosses who are your mates.

You could simply spare 3 mins to delegate this task to your assistant so she/he can delegate others to carry out the necessary review and implementation. By championing this change as a new project, this would definitely look great on your curriculum vitae and justify for significant salary increments and huge bonus payouts?

Please conduct a review and implement this throughout the country and worldwide. The above could not be patented (Simply make a 5 minutes call to the local patent office) and would bring significant benefits to you. Please ask your lawyer to email me a legal letter so I can sign with witness signatures to relinquish all monetary benefits and credit I will gain from this. I am not submitting an unsolicited idea but simply highlighting a problem. However you choose to solve this problem is up to you and all monetary benefits and credit goes to you.

A copy of this letter had been snail mailed and emailed to your C.E.O & Minister as my internet/computer maybe hacked or communication blockage from disgruntled employees due to fear, authoritative hierarchy, herd mentality, and a myriad of other interesting reasons from people who are resistant to change due to invested benefits in the current system even if the change is for the greater good of the company/community. Men’s Ego and Decision Makers being unable to take credit may prevent the realisation of the action from this feedback. I do apologise for this politically incorrect and badly structured letter to incite you into action. Please understand that I spend time and effort to gather this observation, prepare this letter and print the attach colour photo at my own expense. I do so with pure intention.

Thank you for your time in reading this letter.

P.S. “We buy things we don't need with money we don't have to impress people we don't like” : Fight Club. “Man surprised me most about humanity. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

Regards,

Jianfa (Ben) Tsai

Design Thinker

Gift ribbons tying bath towels

Post it notes dispenser

Mannequin wearing clothing products lined up to be viewed at a single glance

Mannequin wearing headphone and sportwear and jog

Classy Simple Transparent Plastic Document Holder

Bed that double as storage space

Sneaker integrate into T Shirt Design

Y should u pair mirror next to jewelry products

Vortex Floor of Video Game Shop in Sydney

AUSPost communicate how to write your PO Box

Arrow next to Anti-Theft Signage eliminate customer's attention gap and draws them into store to max profits

Advertisement installed next to top of stairs attract customers to explore products at the bottom of the stairs

Posters communicate all genre of comics to potential customers at a single glance outside shop

Sign on Staircase steps attract customers to explore and climb up the stairs = Max Sales- Profit- ur Salary

It is easy to look down to notice the sign rather than look up at BLOCK PLACE retail shops

Outdoor Sign with Arrow to direct customers to shop

Hi, 

Thank you for reading this post. I hope you have enjoyed it. 

Unfortunately, my son Ethan is born small, unwell and I need your help, please :(

If my insights have benefited you & your circle of influence, I am begging for your help by: 

clicking on the advertising banner below to earn a few cents for my baby's medical bills. 

I will appreciate if you could share this site with everyone in your sphere of influence.

It costs you nothing; you don't need to buy anything after clicking the advertisement; it only takes a few seconds of your time (No scam promise)

Thank you for your kind help, and God Bless you and your family.

Retail February 17, 2018 at 05:09PM