#Memorabilia; Sawyer Likes

[muse-soup]

((Tag dump.))

[tsmeweek]

THE PROMPTS FOR TSME WEEK ARE OUT!

We are now some 2.5 months away from the 10th anniversary for the airing of the Strongest Mega Evolution Act I. I am excited!

Prompts for the week:

Day 1 - April 3rd: Anniversary / Pokémon Catching Day 2 - April 4th: First Time / Miare (Lumiose City) / Dragon Day 3 - April 5th: Mission / Family / Break Day 4 - April 6th: Hoenn / Mask / Release Day 5 - April 7th: Trip / Dark / AU Day 6 - April 8th: Love / Memorabilia / Legend Day 7 - April 9th: FREE DAY

1) How to participate?

Pick the prompt that you like best for each day of the week, create a fanwork for it and post it on tumblr, tagging #tsmeweek2024 or #tsme10thanniversary! You can also pick several prompts for one day to combine, or mix prompts from different days, as you wish. You can switch days up as well! Go wild! All forms of fanworks are accepted! Fanarts, crafts, fanfic of any lengths, cosplays... Pick the medium you prefer! Prompts can be interpreted however you want. If you pick "Miare" and want to depict an alternate ending for the Flare Crisis where everyone dies, go for it! Creativity is welcomed! Does "Break" mean "mental breakdown", "take a coffee break" or "break.....fast"? Up to you! Don't worry about having to participate every day of the week. Just do what you can! Once you publish a fanwork, don't forget to tag #tsmeweek2024 or #tsme10thanniversary! Those are the tags that will be scoured to be reblogged on this blog.

2) Does PokéAni XY&Z count? What counts as TSME?

The rules are lax. The XY&Z season of PokéAni definitely counts, as TSME characters played a very important role in it. So does the World Championships in Journeys, since Alan appeared in it. As a basic principle, so long as it involves a character that appeared in Act I-IV of TSME, it counts as TSME. So yes, you can absolutely create a fanwork about Daigo/Steven exploring Hoenn with Shouta/Sawyer, or Pachira/Malva dating Carnet/Diantha if your heart desires. You can also create fanworks with TSME characters and characters they never interacted with in canon!

3) Other rules

This blog will have ship art and will accept any ship. Do not harrass people over ships. Racy pieces or pieces with content warnings will be accepted on the blog and tagged with a "n/sfw" tag and "cw" tag. For viewers who do not want to risk seeing any such pieces, you can block these 2 tags. As an artist with a n/sfw or cw piece, please help making the blog friendly for all, by putting the full art under a preview and read-for-more. Please tag the full cw as well!

4) Like The Mega Evolution Specials, but don't know what to make?

Then, reblog, reblog, reblog!! Reblog the posts you see and like as a form of celebration! Share the love and keep it circulating so that it reaches more people!

Have more questions? Don't hesitate to drop an ask on this blog. you can also ask @potahun.

LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOUR WORKS!!

[luminouslywriting]

I'm so sorry to hear that you have to undergo surgery. As a fellow chronic illness girl, I know how that can be, and I'm sorry you're going through that. If you're still looking for things to keep your mind off it, I'd love to hear any general headcanons for the guys' interests? Just random things you think they might like that weren't specified in the show? I headcanon Buck and Brady as great cooks, for example. 😊

Nonny, thank you for your sweet message :) I so appreciate the love you're sending me! I would love to answer this ask, so more below the cut haha!! And as always, my requests are open and I love getting asks and requests from you all! Please note that this was cut for length and I kept it centered on Bucky, Buck, Rosie, and Brady!

Bucky Egan:

-This will come as no surprise to anyone, but I think he has an extensive collection of baseball cards that start from the time he was five onwards.

-I also think he really enjoys reading, specifically American Literature such as Rip Van Winkle or Tom Sawyer. He does really enjoy learning about New York as well, so he definitely has some New York memorabilia somehow.

-Board game KING. Actually, most games. He's down to play football in the dirt with his friends and he's down to play a game of checkers when the occasion calls for it.

-He strikes me as an animal person, for obvious reasons—so I think he must've had a dog back home or growing up. He definitely thought about going into some form of animal medicine before going into the military.

Buck Cleven:

-Stargazing or cloud-watching. I can't explain it, but I just know that this man has a fascination with the stars and clouds. It's a relaxing way to pass the time and it helps him center his thoughts.

-Plants?? He strikes me as a boy-scout sorta guy, so I picture he got his poisonous plant identification certification or something. He also has some favorite flowers that he likes gathering now and then.

-Science experiments. Again—this one is heavily based on the stuff we see in the show, but he collects the most RANDOM things and spare parts and will just casually build things or try to make things fit together because he likes to know how things work.

-COOKING, babe you're so right. He's a GREAT cook! Put him in front of a slab of meat though and he kinda panics. Breads? He can do it and make a recipe better than the original.

Rosie Rosenthal:

-Music history and theory; this NERD absolutely adores looking into the history of music. He knows about Brahms and Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Handel, and is able to easily memorize music and tunes.

-MOVIE BUFF. I can't explain it, but I just know that he can quote movies like there's no tomorrow and half of the time, no one even gets the reference.

-Oddly really likes reading the ads in the newspaper? He likes to see what's going on and what kind of help is needed.

-History boi with a niche for weird specific things. Like, he'd be in the middle of a conversation and he'd be like, "this reminds of when the Ottoman Empire...." or "Did you know that the Crusades were actually...."

John Brady:

-Poetry?? He really enjoys reading it, really enjoys writing it?? He strikes me as the type of man to enjoy Tennyson, Keats, or Byron

-Running; it's a really easy way for him to clear his head and he can go for miles before actually realizing that he's run that far.

-HE BUILDS MUSIC BOXES; listen, I have no context for this one, but he just starts tinkering around and this musical KING can just put things together super easily.

-Writes his own sheet music when he's got a lot of feelings....that doesn't mean anyone has ever actually heard said music, but it's definitely a way for him to channel his emotions into something constructive.

[collinsappsley]

--- Collins Appsley - Character Tropes

A Parental Substitute is an adult friend who fills the children and teens's lonely life with guidance and love. Collins has stepped in as a parental substitute for her niece Sawyer and treats the little girl as if she were her own.

Badass Adorable a term for someone who, underneath the irrepressibly cheerful demeanour, behind the innocent wide-eyed gaze, has an astonishing capacity for kicking your ass. Do not test collins, she may look sweet but she will go to battle for those she loves.

Blood is Thicker Than Water can mean that family is the most important thing, or that a person's relationship with their family members is more important than any other relationship that they may have. Collins' relationship with her older brother Elliot and her niece Sawyer are proof of that for her.

Hidden Depths - People are rarely all that they seem at first glance and this is very true with Collins. There are parts of her that not everyone gets to see. Why did she never mention it? Well: "You Didn't Ask".

Endearingly Dorky - Collins is clumsy, loud, gets easily overexcited, talks without thinking, and a million other character flows. Rather than finding this unlikable, however, other characters often find this sheer dorkiness cute, likable, endearing, or even attractive.

Collector of Strange - People collect things they like, and nothing is too odd for Collins to collect. She loves to go diving for unusual trinkets and memorabilia at flea markets or garage sales. As she always says, you never know what you might find.

[morguemistress]

Hi! Could I get a matchup?

Appearance: short, chubby, short blond hair and blue eyes. I’m punk and wear a lot of band shirts, spiked collars, flannels and jeans.

Personality: funny (can’t stop joking and won’t take things seriously), very artsy (I draw and paint and sew and much more!), I care a lot about the people I love and will go above and beyond to comfort/care for others.

Interests: art (as previously mentioned), music (I listen to a lot of genres but mostly punk, folk punk, rock, indie etc etc), I collect bones and skulls. I’m also a massive horror movie nerd and collect horror movie dvds

If there’s anything else you wanna know I can send another ask! Also don’t stress about getting this done, take as much time as you need:)

Your Slasher Matchup: Chop-Top Sawyer!!

Explanation:

Music lovers have to stick together, so I just know you two would be perfect for each other! Robert would love your style and sense of humor. You two can crack each other up like no other, and these jokes and pranks can go on for hours at a time. Drayton hates you guys. But on a more serious note, your tendency to help and comfort others comes in handy when he has a PTSD flare-up. Knowing that you collect horror memorabilia, he'd steal some for you whenever he gets the chance.

[the-institute-gifts]

To: Quinten Sawyer- @quinten-sawyer

Well hello there Doc Gorgeous! It's me, your Santa. Hope you liked everything, but who am I kidding? Of course you did, they were from me ;) Love ya man!

Ciaran

{some fun memorabilia!}

[blueikeproductions]

Earlier in the year, Dan and JD find themselves in Ms. Flemming’s classroom/office. Pulling double duty as a guidance councilor and as a teacher is a bit of a challenge to Flemming, but she finds she thrives in such a chaotic environment. That and the school is under a hiring freeze, and Westerberg has to make do with what they’ve already got. Her classroom is decorated with assorted 60’s era memorabilia which Dan finds tacky and JD finds mortifying, especially the Peace & Love ☮️ 💕posters. The only modernish stuff is a Hang In There poster with Wile E. Coyote hanging on a tree branch with one hand and trying to blow out a dynamite stick he’s holding with his other hand. There’s also a Hippie Garfield bobble head on her rather cluttered desk being used as a paper weight for some graded papers and what looks like several divorce papers. A picture of Flemming with her two teenage children is sitting next to the papers; the two teens are an uptight looking girl and a more relaxed slightly shorter boy. Dan and Veronica knew them, they were a grade higher and had already graduated, but the girl got in trouble with the police recently over a drug bust last he heard…

Ms. Flemming herself is sitting on the desk, a middle aged woman with long wavy hair, purple sunglasses wearing a fruity headband and loud robes, beads and necklaces not out of place at Woodstock. The boys wince at her obnoxious anachronistic style, she absolutely refuses to let her decade go, with Dan making a note to never let his decade rule him like it clearly does Flemming. JD is trying to fight the urge to strike a match and let the room burn down because it’s offensive to his sensibilities, but he knows it won’t do any good because Flemming would probably encourage burning down the establishment anyway.

Ms. Flemming: So I brought you two in here because I’m concerned.

-Dan and JD look at each other confused-

Dan: Uh, about what, exactly?

Flemming: -side eyes JD- Oh I’m just concerned about the company you boys keep. Mr. Dean here hasn’t exactly adjusted to life at Westerberg.

JD: What’s to adjust? This place is the “Thunderdome”, even the Principal call this dump that.

Flemming: You brutally attacked Mr. Sweeney and Mr. Kelly on the first day, held Mr. Throttle at gun point and later gave him a black eye simply for talking to Ms. Sawyer.

JD: -glances at Dan and blushes a bit, looking annoyed- Am I not supposed to protect my f… fre… freeeee- fuck it, my acquaintances? Besides I’m just bringing my brand of rough and tumble to a place already rough and tumbling. And the gun was a squirt gun, calm your tits, lady. -pulls out the gun in question and fires a few water spurts in the air, and puts it back in his jacket-

Flemming: … Even so, it wasn’t the right way to approach it, and I’m concerned at what you might do to Mr. Braverman here.

Dan: Me?

JD: What would I do to Danny-boy? -looks genuinely confused-

Flemming: I’m concerned you’ll drag each other into a dark path because of your…debatable habits, Mr. Dean. I’m not sure what it is why innocents like Ms. Sawyer and Mr. Braverman here are so attracted to the bad types like you and Ms. Chandler.

JD: -growls and looks more annoyed-

Dan: Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, Mizz Flemmin’. -hand waves- Jason’s a good guy once ya get to know ‘em. He and I knew each other back at Hawkins, and he couldn’t “warp my young mind” back then, and he couldn’t do it now if he tried, right, Jason? -playfully elbows him-

JD: Heh, yeah, I, uh, tried to get this guy into smoking back then, and turns out he got ME t’quit! How’s that for pathetic? -sneaks a piece of nicotine gum-

Flemming: So you two knew each other before? I did sense some history. Certainly would explain why Mr. Dean follows Mr. Braverman around like a little lost puppy lately… Still, do you two have any carry over baggage that I should be aware of, for the safety of the students of course. After the tragic passing of Heather Chandler and Sacha Silverman via suicide, I have to be sure nothing else is going to “warp” the other sensitive minds of the school.

Dan: -looks offended- We still don’t know if Specs actually suicided… Why would he willingly crush himself with the AV equipment and computers?

Flemming: Perhaps you didn’t know Mr. Silverman as well as you thought you did. He may have had some hot ball of shame he felt he needed to be free from.

JD: -low muttering- No, the only hot ball of shame there was Red, and she crushed Specs into bloody sludge with it….

Flemming: What was that, Mr. Dean?

JD: Uh, -clears throat- me and Danny-boy don’t have any hot balls of shame. We’re perfectly well adjusted 17 year olds! -Dan gives a JD a doubtful look and JD wavers a bit-

Flemming: I see, but instead of talking for him, I’d like to hear it directly from Mr. Braverman. Everyone has guilt, regret, anxiety and fears we dare not name.

Dan: -thinks of the Super Demogorgon and shifts uncomfortably- You don’t know the half of it, Mizz Flemmin’.

Flemming: I’d like to.

JD: Nooooo you don’t. Not anymore than we needed to hear how you faked it with Steve-O at your feel good seminar. (Flemming: Ok, that might’ve been a little TMI on my part…) What adult tells that to CHILDREN? Anyhow, they’re called fears we dare not name for a reason. I sleep with a rifle next to my bed fooooor… -realizes he’s contradicting himself- perfectly well adjusted reasons.

Flemming: -raises eyebrow-

Dan: -clenches his fists, starting to get fed up- Okie-doke. You REALLY wanna know?

JD: Danny-boy…

Flemming: Shush, let him speak.

Dan: Jason and me fought monsters back in Hawkins. Things you can’t even imagine, we lost friends. My friend Eddie got eaten by a thing out of your worst nightmares (Flemming: My 2nd husband’s affair with his fat, male secretary?), and we just barely made it out alive with a mondo, mega monster, that without help, we wouldn’t be here talking about it now. …There was so much blood… So much goop… Oh, and let’s not forget the Russians snooping around Hawkins Mall and Hawkins Labs! That certainly didn’t help ma-

-The bell rings-

Flemming: -sighs- I guess we’re not shining much of a light on things today, especially if neither of you’re not going to take this seriously.

Dan: I’m telling the truth…!

Flemming: About a very traumatic Dungeons & Dragons campaign it sounds. I’m sure your friend Eddie is perfectly fine. Perhaps the real problem here is an inability to separate fantasy from reality, Mr. Braverman. All that comic book reading can’t be good for your brain, anymore than it is to be hanging around this delinquent.

JD: Eat my shorts.

Flemming: We’ll pick this up later, and next time I want the truth. I don’t want to lose any more students to any more nonsense. And god forbid, any of it drags you boys down with it.

-Later in the year, a blood and goop covered JD and Dan are dragging the corpse of a Demogorgon around the campus football field. The body is filled with bullet holes, bruises from croquet mallet strikes, and has a pitch fork in its chest from where the boys struck the final blow-

Dan: It’s leaving a trail of blood… This isn’t good…

JD: Most of it is ours at least. If it comes to it, we can say you and I got into a fight. It’s… technically not wrong. -points to Dan’s bandaged arm from the boiler room incident-

Dan: Yeah, but I don’t want to give Flemmin’ the satisfaction she might have been right…

JD: Our relationship is complicated, but you’re my brother... -they drag the body behind the weight room building- Isn’t it kinda in the rules brothers feud?

Dan: Aww. -they set the body down- You called me “brother”, the blended family is working after all. -teases-

JD: -tired grins- Only proving my point. Alright. So what do we do with Chuckles here? Why WAS Chuckles here?

Dan: Vecna could be expanding his reach… I haven’t heard from Will in awhile, and that might factor into it…

JD: I didn’t see any goopy veiny gates near the school, and I doubt this guy would charter a bus just to come to Sherwood…

Dan: -yanks out the pitchfork from the body, and more goop splatters him- We’ll cross that bridge later, right now we gotta ditch the body.

JD: Kinda wish I didn’t waste our old bomb, could’ve shoved it up this thing’s ass and watch it go kablooey!

Dan: That would’ve taken us and half the town with it!

JD: … We could die as heroes? …Ok stop giving me that look, Danny-boy.

Dan: Lemme think… - leaning on the pitch fork- We can’t bury the body. The last time that happened we accidentally planted a DemoTree. Like those cranky trees from Oz only they threw face eating apples…!

JD: Burning it is then. -gets out a lighter- I’m pretty sure there’s still some gasoline in the groundskeeper’s shed we can douse the creep with.

Flemming: Douse the who with what now? -She appears around the corner from the bushes with a guilty looking Veronica-

Dan and JD: CRAP/FUCK! -they drop the pitchfork and lighter-

Veronica: I’m sorry, I was looking for you guys, and Flemming followed. Her Spider Senses were tingling…

Flemming: I ignored my Spider Senses regarding whatever was going on in the boiler room, but a trail of red sludge and foot prints I can’t turn the other cheek o- -looks down and sees the gnarled body- SWEET JESUS!!! What did you boys do?!? I knew this would happen!

Veronica: -screams the same way when it finally sunk in Red Heather died of poisoning- HOLY SHIT -pointing at the creature- IT’S REAL!?!? Then… then… JD, those scars on your chest..! You-you two really fought Russians!!? And… this…thing… I… it was TRUE?!?!

Flemming: Oh god, Veronica, don’t tell me you got warped by their delusions too.

Veronica: …What? Ms. Flemming, that’s a monster’s CORPSE laying there!

Flemming: It’s just some warped LARPing Game they took too far, and it ends right now!

JD: …The HELL you think we’re trying to do?!

Flemming: Oh god, -kneels down to examine the body- what kinda mascot suit is this? A home made Alien suit? The face is all wrong. Young man, you can get up now. Show’s over.

Dan: …Mizz Flemmin’, it’s not a student, we swear. …Well… I mean… there COULD be a student in there, these things aren’t picky about what they eat…

JD: -sighs and rubs temples- Danny-boy, zip it.

-The body convulses-

Veronica, Dan and JD: -look scared-

-The Demogorgon picks itself up and growls, looking around confused-

Flemming: Ah good. Now take off that stupid mask, so I can…. Can… -the creature rises to its full height and unfurls its head petals, revealing its inhuman face-mouth and roars at Ms. Flemming and Veronica- Oh my…

-The creature lunges at the two women, Flemming pushing Veronica away from its trajectory and closes her eyes, bracing herself-

-She hears loud gunshots and opens her eyes, seeing the creature, now with a gaping hole in its back where the pitchfork wound was, laying at her feet, she looks up to see JD and Dan aiming smoking guns, the former lowering his slowly while the later just casually drops it-

Dan: It’s dead now. You two ok…? -Veronica runs over and hugs the two boys in fright-

Flemming: What the HELL was that…?! -gingerly pointing at the corpse, it now starting to sink in…-

JD: Ah that’d be our very real, not delusional at all, LARPing game. All the rage back at Hawkins and not for the faint of heart…!

Ms. Flemming: -slowly nods in understanding and comically passes out-

JD: Only provin’ my point…

[choptop-sawyer]

How did Sawyers react to Nubbin's death?

Ooh, angsty subject. Let's get crack a lackin.

The Sawyer's Individual Reactions to Nubbin's Death

Bubba

Bubba is the one who's grief showed the most when Nubbins died.

He was the one right there after all, the one who had to watch Nubbins die right before his eyes. When it comes to his family, Bubba feels his emotions keenly, and this horrible event felt like a blow to the head and gut, even worse than when Grandma died.

Why? Nubbins was his brother. When Bobby had to go away, who did he have? Not Drayton, who was too bitter and hardened to try to relate to Bubba. It was Nubbins. Sure, he could lash out sometimes, get violent and bloody towards his own kin, but Bubba knew that. That was just how Nubbins was, ever since he was a kid. He meant well, he really did. And he loved Bubba.

Bubba would spend days crying over his brother, stealing away little trinkets of the deceased that Drayton overlooked, just to have a reminder. Nubbins always liked his collections, and Bubba wants to keep them for him.

Because, after all, Nubbins is still there in a way. Colder, yes. Quieter, by a huge margin. But the Sawyer's don't mind too much. It hurts too much to put them in the ground. Bubba tucks Nubbin's trinkets away with his corpse.

He takes care of the body well too, keeping it nice as he can until Bobby comes home. Nubbin's corpse is in good hands with his little brother, even if it ends up getting covered in tears sometimes.

Chop Top

Chop is the one who's most affected by Nubbin's death, for obvious reasons. Nubbins was his best friend, his partner in crime, someone who understood him in such a way that only he could.

Add that to the fact that he was half the world away from his brother when he died. He couldn't help his situation, but oh man, did he wish that he could have seen Nubbins when he finally made it home. It was something he thought about at night, homecoming. To see Bubba and Drayton, and Nubbins, most of all. His twin who he had to leave behind.

Nubbins didn't go with him because of his conditions, and it's now a sad irony that Bobby has returned to be just as burdened with his ruined mind as his dead twin.

If you notice Nubbins corpse in the second movie, he's wearing an army jacket. Bobby gave it to him, wishing he could show it to him for real. Vietnam may have put him through hell, but Nubbin's would have been happy to see the war memorabilia Chop brought back. In exchange, Chop took Nubbin's bracelet to wear for his own.

He treats Nubbins as if he's still alive, though he knows deep down that he isn't. So his dead twin has become sort of a vessel for his own thoughts, all the things he wants to talk about.

Chop didn't ever cry very much, but for Nubbins, he did.

Drayton

Drayton was shocked at first, when Bubba came home cradling his little brother's body. Things like that just didn't happen to family, Nubbins was young and full of life. He shouldn't be like this.

Time seemed a bit frozen to him, but at the same time, Drayton knew there was still work to do. He sent Bubba away to clean him up, and Drayton continued on, mind on autopilot.

He acts like it was not such a big deal, downplaying the tragedy of it. But at night, that's when all those bitter and dark feelings come spewing out of his mouth.

He yells and shouts, berating that girl who got away, Nubbins for getting run over, and most hurtfully of all, Bubba for not being able to save him.

He hits Bubba, and blames him. In the morning he'll pretend it never happened, but Drayton knows that he's just crushing down Bubba's own feelings to try to drown out his own. Feelings of guilt that he should have been a better brother.

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Howdy could I get a slasher matchup please n thank you (I love your writing btw!!!)? I'm 5'7,straight shoulder length brunette hair,blue eyes,and I'm a lil pudgy but curvy. I'm shy and introverted so I don't really talk much unless I'm comfy with you,super caring towards the ones I love too. I enjoy drawing,video games,,watching horror movies,listening to metal,and sleeping.I absolutely L O V E Hello Kitty,plushies,and horror memorabilia,my rooms decked out in it.I have bad anxiety,depression,and PTSD.I enjoy dark humor but I also like cheesy jokes too!

Tysm for the compliment Love🥺💕

So freaking sorry for the late reply!

Past me: It’s like 1 AM so imma sleep on it—

I match you with:

Michael Myers!

Other possibilities: Chop-Top Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, ChromeSkull, Bo Sinclair

5’7”? Nice^^He likes towering over you

Shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes? Like it too! He prefers blue-eyed. So he’ll absolutely look at your eyes when you’re not looking.

But don’t you dare mention it if you see him, except if you have a death wish.

Love your pudgyness 💕 it gives him something to tease you about!

Shy and introverted, absolutely his type! If you hadn’t guessed already. He 100% won’t be bothered by it.

And you risk not being comfy with him, like, ever. This Bitch(tm) is gonna scare the living daylight out of you 24/7.

Please care for this big murder, please. He needs some ❤️

You enjoy drawing? Heck yes! Please show him💕

He doesn’t shows it, but he’s good at drawing, you know?

Video games?? Whenever you’d want him to play with you, please let him win. He doesn’t know shit about video games, so he’ll always loose. And you don’t want to see Mikey when he’s mad.

He’d definitely watch horror movies with you ✨ because he’s the 👑 Horror Queen 👑 —

And rock to metal with you, especially if it’s older, like Slipknot or Marilyn Manson .3.

It’s not even a question. If sleep is what you want, sleep is what you’ll get. There’s two options: Him making you sleep or Him cuddling sleeping with you. But there’s more chance for the first one.

He’d not really understand why you love Hello Kitty, but he doesn’t care about it. He’ll just steal everything Hello Kitty branded.

He’d give you plushies.

He’d give you some his collection, but he only has some Tales From The Crypt comics—

He sadly doesn’t really have time for it.

This Bitch doesn’t know how to deal with anxiety, depression or PTSD, but if you need comfort or anything, just let him know. He’ll stop what he’s doing and sit down with you as you’d hug him, the only comfort you’ll have.

And he’d really like your dark humor<3, but if you tell him cheesy jokes, you’ll see a small grin on his face.

[writingbymel]

Syndicate - Part 7

Author’s Note: SURPRISE I’M BACK! Sorry for the long hiatus, I honestly got swarmed with work and life & put this blog to the side! Anyways, part 7 is here! :) Some of you guys have been a little confused with the timing/setting of this story in relation to The Originals, but to be honest there isn’t a correlation. This story just contains the characters from the show and some of my own characters.

Also, some of you guys have requested me to post this whole story on wattpad so I’ve uploaded it here: writingbymel wattpad

Date Posted: 05/06/2020

Summary: Y/N, Klaus, and Rebekah attempt to track down more clues about the mysterious creature terrorizing the Quarter. 

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2,000+ 

Parts: SYNDICATE MASTERLIST

I play with the small knick knacks on the voodoo shop shelves. I grimace a little at the strange headless dolls that lined the room.

“You both haven’t talked to me in years and now when you need something of course you are here,” Margery says crushing up some herbs in a small bowl. She mixes some sort of liquid into the bowl as well. Margery was one of the witches in the quarter that Klaus and I both knew for decades. She had a troubled past and sought New Orleans for refuge, but became entangled in the witch coven here. Over time, we had a falling out due to the feud between the New Orleans witches and the vampires.

“I know you have no reason to help us Marge,” I say hesitantly. “But this is for the greater good of the city.”

“You have no right to call me that anymore Y/N,” Marge says. In a quick blur Klaus pins Margery against the wall. “Klaus, don’t,” I state nervously.

“Look witch, you owe my family a favor, so I think it would bode well for you to help us,” Klaus seethes.

“Fine, fine let me go,” Margery struggles against his grip. “You vampires never know how to play nice,” she mutters under her breath.

“See was that so hard?” Klaus asks with a smile. I roll my eyes at his dramatics and try to give a small smile to Margery in hopes she forgives us.

Margery ignores us laying out a few of her spell materials. She begins chanting something in a foreign language. Sand on the map begins to move slowly towards a location.

“Quickly now love,” Klaus states pacing back and forth. I shove him in the shoulder to get him to shut up.

“Klaus be quiet,” I say. He holds his hands up in defeat walking into the other room.

“He hasn’t changed after all these years,” Margery says continuing her spell. I lean up against one of the tables in the room with my arms crossed watching Margery’s methodical actions. “I’ve heard quite the stories about you Y/N, a newly turned vampire who was on the run from the Mikaelsons. The one who’s in love with a beast. The witches in the quarter talk Y/N. What is it do you see in him?” I stop myself from lunging towards her.

“Just complete the spell Margery,” I mutter praying that Klaus was not listening to what she was saying, but knowing him he probably was. “Please,” I add hoping not to anger her further.

Klaus walks into the room shortly after, “How’s the spell going?”

“I’m done,” Margery replies staring down at the map. “All signs point to Lafayette Cemetery.”

“The witches must have something to do with this,” I say grabbing my coat.

“Let’s go Y/N,” Klaus says exiting out the front door. Before I can follow, Margery grabs a hold of my arm.

“Y/N you need to be careful around the Mikaelsons,” Margery warns. “Trouble always follows that family.”

I pull my arm out of her grasp, “I can judge characters for myself.” I look at the spot she grabbed and rub my arm a bit in discomfort. I look down to realize a red mark in the shape of three interconnected rings now bore my arm. I quickly pull my shirt sleeve down hiding the strange mark. I decided not to make a fuss about it with the ghoul issue at large.

I follow Klaus out of the door. “I never did like witches,” I say catching up to Klaus’s pace. Klaus laughs a bit at my comment.  

“You and me both love,” Klaus says walking through the crowded streets. Eventually we arrive at the familiar cemetery gates.

“What is our plan?” I ask unlatching the gate door.

“Search the grounds for some sort of clue,” Klaus says. He’s interrupted by the ringing of my cellphone. I reach into my pocket to see Rebekah’s call.

“Hey Rebekah,” I say. Klaus points out to the general vicinity indicating that he was going to start searching the grounds. I nod at him.

“Will you tell me what on earth is going on?” Rebekah asks. “Where did you and Klaus disappear to?”

“We had Marge— I mean Margery help us cast a locator spell to find where the ghoul came from,” I explain. “She told us all signs pointed to the cemetery.”  

“I’ll be there in a few,” Rebekah says ending the phone call. I put my phone back in my pocket before searching the area.

“Klaus?” I yell out into the silence. There was no response, so I assumed Klaus must’ve gotten far.

“What do you think you’re doing here vampire?” I hear a voice behind me. I turn around to see a girl I didn’t recognize. She takes a few steps closer to me causing me to take a few steps back in panic.

“Who are you?” I ask. She starts chanting in a language I couldn’t understand. A sharp pain begins to spread through my head and I fall to my knees. I scream in pain realizing she was a witch putting some sort of spell on me. I attempt to crawl towards her to somehow stop her, but the pain was too much.

“That’s not very nice,” I hear followed by a loud crack. The witch falls to the ground and I see Rebekah rush up to me. “Are you alright Y/N?” I nod slowly getting up with her help. I see her eyes wander to the mark on my arm, but I rapidly pull down my shirt sleeve before she could get a good look. “How dare my brother leave you alone.” Rebekah says looking around the graveyard. She mustn’t have noticed the mark.

“It’s not his fault,” I say. “I told him to go on without me.”

“Well lucky I showed up when I did,” Rebekah replies wandering off into the graveyard. I quickly catch up to follow her.

“I’m not sure how far Klaus is by now,” I tell her. I stop and I listen to the sounds surrounding us. “I think he went this way,” I take a right turn to see Klaus crouching near a pile of black dust.

“Glad you caught up,” Klaus says dusting off his hands covered in the soot-like material. “I was starting to worry love.”

“I got a little held up,” I laugh exchanging a look with Rebekah. She smiles at me.

“What have we got here?” Rebekah asks walking closer.

I follow her lead, “It looks similar to what the creature at Rousseau’s left behind.”

“It is definitely what it seems like,” Klaus responds. I reach into my pocket to grab a small sachet. I crouch down and scoop some of the dust into it.

“For our research later,” I say tying the little bag shut. Rebekah looks around the area in attempts to find some sort of clue. I follow her and notice a few arrows stuck in a tombstone. “This is strange,” I say taking a closer look at the arrows.

“Not many people participate in archery in these parts,” Rebekah replies.

“Whoever shot these must have been aiming at something,” I say.

“Or someone,” Klaus states standing by my side.

“Is there an archery club or something around here?” I ask. “Maybe we can start by looking there?”

Rebekah smirks, “I know just the place and I happen to know someone who is meeting there today. Follow me.” Rebekah starts to make her way to the bustling downtown nightlife of New Orleans.

“Why does your sister know everyone in town?” I ask Klaus with a laugh.

“Beats me,” Klaus responds. “My sister is an enigma.”

After a few minutes of banter we approach a building with an old sign that reads “Perrine, Gage.”

Klaus furrows his eyebrows, “Rock, Stone?”

“I never said this was a classy place,” Rebekah replies entering the facility. Inside we are met with an American countryside themed bar. The walls were covered in American war memorabilia, cowboy hats, and farm animal paintings.

“The French name and the American theme,” I question. “I’m even more confused.”

Klaus shakes his head in disgust, “I’m starting to question the company you keep sister.”

“Oh hush,” Rebekah says wandering further into the back of the bar. Seated far in the back of the bar was a group of men invested in a game of cards. Rebekah scans the room looking for what I assume to be her friend. Her eyes light up when she recognizes a man in the corner of the room. “Sawyer!” Rebekah calls out. Sawyer started making his way over to us with a wide smile. He wore a cowboy hat on his head and was dressed in a green flannel. His face was adorned with scruff and his clothes were dirtied with oil, probably from working. He embraces Rebekah with a hug. “What are you doing out in these parts?” Sawyer asks eyeing Klaus and I. I feel myself turn a little red not enjoying the attention.

“We need your expertise. This is my brother Klaus,” Rebekah smiles gesturing to Klaus. “And our friend Y/N.”

Sawyer bows sarcastically, tipping his hat towards us, “Pleasure.” This makes me laugh and Klaus glares at me unamused. “Any friend of Rebekah’s is a friend of mine,” Sawyer grabs Klaus and I, one on each arm, directing us towards the bartender. Sawyer does a wave of his hands and immediately two glasses of whiskey is set on the table in front of us. Rebekah takes a seat next to us and orders herself a drink. Sawyer immediately hops over to take the seat on the other side of me.

“So Beks how is it being back in New Orleans for good?” Sawyer asks.

“It’s nice to be back with my family,” Rebekah smiles placing a hand on Klaus’s. Klaus returns the smile. Rebekah quickly lowers her voice looking around the crowded bar, “But the whole reason I’m here isn’t to catch up unfortunately. There’s been a creature around targeting specifically supernatural creatures and we found one of your men’s arrows in the area.”

“That’s impossible,” Sawyer replies. “We haven’t gone out to shoot arrows in ages. Ever since my dad died no one ever had the same passion anymore to practice archery.”

“Are you sure you can’t think of anyone?” I ask.

“I mean I could ask around but I can’t promise you anything,” Sawyer replies.

“That would mean a lot,” I tell him. He shoots me a wink before drinking a sip of his beer.

“Alright, I think we have enough information,” Klaus says abruptly getting up from his seat.

“Oh come on now you guys just got here,” Sawyer states. “At least stay for the line dancing.”

Rebekah looks at Klaus a pleading look in her eyes, “Come on Klaus that sounds so fun, you need to let loose.”

“There is no way I’m line dancing,” Klaus replies. “Not with a ghoul rampaging our city.”

“Don’t need to be so negative man,” Sawyer places a hand on Klaus’s arm and Klaus pulls away from him heading to the door.

“Sorry about that my brother has moods,” Rebekah laughs nervously. “So you want to dance Y/N?”

“I think I’m gonna go find Klaus,” I reply. “See if he’s okay.”

“Of course you choose my brother over me,” Rebekah fake cries.

I roll my eyes at her, “I’ll see you at home later?”

“Yes of course,” Rebekah says following Sawyer onto the dance floor.  

“Nice meeting you Y/N!” Sawyer yells out from the crowd. I shake my head and head out the wooden bar doors. I attempt to use my hearing to find Klaus, but it didn’t take long before I spotted his familiar back a little ways down the street. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he seems deep in thought. I speed up to him, shocking him a little bit.

“Hey grumpy pants,” I tease linking my arm with his. He lets out a small laugh in response.

We walk in silence toward the house for a few minutes with me pointing out sights, but Klaus not responding. I stop us in our tracks causing a couple people to bump into us from behind.

“Y/N what are you doing,” Klaus asks pulling us off the middle of the sidewalk.

“Well you weren’t talking to me I had to get your attention somehow,” I say.

He groans, “I’m tired Y/N.” He starts walking again, but I vampire speed in front of him. “Y/N someone could’ve seen that,” he continues walking towards home. He snakes his way through the crowds that often painted the streets at this time of night.

“But no one did,” I reply walking next to him. “Klaus what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Klaus replies. After what seemed like forever we finally made our way back home. He makes his way through the front door and up the stairs.

“If I didn’t know any better you’re jealous,” I say following him.

“What would I be jealous of?” Klaus asks.

“Rebekah’s friend…” I reply.

“Y/N I could care less about who has a crush on you and who doesn’t,” Klaus continues to make his way upstairs. “You and I are just friends.”

His words shut me up quickly. Just friends? I feel my heart drop a little in disappointment. I thought we were way past the friend stage, or was I just imagining things. I don’t know how to respond so I make my way back down the stairs.

“Hello Y/N,” Elijah states, but I ignore his greeting. I walk to the kitchen to fix something to eat. I angrily grab the peanut butter and jelly from the fridge. I begin to make my sandwich. “Y/N what did that poor sandwich ever do to you?” Elijah asks leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ve had a terrible day Elijah,” I respond. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay okay I won’t pry any further,” Elijah says grabbing some water. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night Elijah,” I state. I take my finished sandwich out to the front terrace. I look up at the night sky and smile as I see a shooting star pass by. I close my eyes and make a wish before enjoying my sandwich. My eyes linger on the mark Margery gave me on my arm. Something in my gut told me trouble was closer than I thought.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

peathers is the worst thing and I hate it so much.

OK so me and my mum just hate watched the peathers pilot and it is so bad.

my mum thinks it’s ridiculous and just an utter disgrace ruining an 80s classic, I’ll put all my thoughts under the cut

- Why did they change how JD’s mum died? Why did they change his dads buisness for that matter. It removes depth for literally... nothing?

- On the matter of JD MY SON WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU. The actor who plays JD is the only actor so far I think is truely bad. Chandler is a saving grace, Duke and MacNamara are ok, Veronica is decent, but JD is just so charismatic and, to quote my mum, lacks any chemistry with Veronica. A good JD lives and dies on charisma, and this actor lacked ANY. Also why does he not wear a trenchcoat? He looks nothing like JD?

- Why does being sexually abused by a teacher mean that MacNamara isn’t a lesbian? The fuck kind of logic is that?

- While Heather Chandler is amazing the Heathers make no sense? Veronica looks more like a Heather than the Heathers. The Heathers can have diversity of course, but they need to be clearly privelleged rich girls. A lesbian MacNamara can work, for example! I’ve seen Asian Dukes and that fits too! But the Heathers need to be privileged rich girls who look down on all below them, that’s their character.

- Why have a Betty Finn if she’s nothing liKE BETTY FINN WHYYYYYYYY.

- Where is Martha I’ve heard she’s not in this is that correct?

- How tf are they going to do Kurt and Ram if one of thems gay? How are they gonna die?

- HOW JUST IS AN ABOMINATION.

- I feel so bad for Shannen Doherty for agreeing to be in this.

- Wait If you’re making a diverse Heathers why not make people who aren’t the Heathers diverse? Betty is Asian I guess but she’s barely Betty. Why not have Veronica Sawyer be the bicon she was always meant to be? I mean if I’m just throwing out sexuality headcanons why not like a pan or demi JD? You could make JD a girl, as my mum suggested. Why not have a black Veronica, or a hispanic JD or a polynesian Martha or whatever? Why is Peathers?

- Why do the Heathers hate MacNamara and not Duke? Isn’t that what drove Heather Duke to be Heather Duke?

- ““Sad face emoji. Pill emoji”” NO ONE TALKS LIKE THIS WTF.

- Why give Chandler an instagram if she’s blatantly a tumblr pastiche.

- Why does JD casually just have Nazi memorabilia? I know it’s his dads but? That feels really out of character for JD. I’d always assumed he’d be a super left wing anarchist or something.

- Why did Veronica not report JD to the police? They weren’t in a relationship like the movie and the musical.

- Heather Chandler deserves better.

- Why does VERONICA say fuck me gently with a chainsaw????

- Again I cant stress this enough this JD is AWFUL. To be honest, I have a massive crush on Movie/Musical JD. I hate myself for it but my heart won’t stop beating all around my body whenever he’s on stage or screen. Peathers JD makes me want to be sick whenever he’s on screen. How do you screw up that badly?

- seriously that extra in the trenchcoat would be a better jd

- heather duke would be a better jd

- id be a better jd and i have 1 play of acting experience and im a 15 year old autistic girl

- my cat could be a better jd

- peathers is suffering and i will watch the next 9 episodes for your sick enjoyment and because I despise myself.

- why is peathers

@bombboi im just tagging you cause i know you hate peathers sorry to bother you but i thought you might enjoy this angry ranting on peathers also so i can say you’re great and you look like veronica and you’re the best sorry for bothering you please don’t hate me

[panticwritten]

Breaking Furnace Book 1: Lockdown

Chapter 5: Reverse Nepotism

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

I’ve had to change quite a bit of formatting to post this on tumblr because I am a fiend when it comes to using different fonts and tools and junk in my writing. If you want to read this chapter with its original formatting, you can do so here.

After this chapter, some of the formatting really starts to matter between the original document and the limits of what I can do on here. It doesn’t matter as much until the other four books, but I’m just gonna mention that I’m kind of disappointed in how limiting tumblr is. If you have a chance, I would seriously suggest checking the document.

You can leave comments by highlighting specific text and clicking the bubble that appears to the side!

Super neat.

Remember that this is a daydream taking place in the Escape From Furnace universe, so keep that in mind if you haven’t read EFF.

Word count: 6302

Possible triggers for this chapter

Dissociation

(Almost) physical violence

Emotional manipulation

Brief mention of NAZI memorabilia

Hallucinations

Taphephobia

Scotophobia

Let me know if you need anything else tagged!

Next chapter will be up February 9th at 7pm PST.

If you like what I do here, maybe consider buying me a Ko-fi or checking out my Patreon! I love being able to put so much out for free, but this would be a great way to show support and also see cool new content!

~-S-~

When I reach the yard, I walk close to the walls. I’m so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, eyes on the entrance to my cell, that I don’t notice Connor until he stands in front of me. His lips ask if I’m okay, but the words just sound like noise.

I wave him away, and he backs off. I screw my eyes shut, ground myself with the feeling of rock under my thin shoes, and the strange feeling disappears. Or lessens. The world doesn’t feel like static when I open my eyes again, at least.

I have the foresight to throw up another illusion to keep nosy inmates from seeing the two of us talking. I don’t know what it looks like from the outside, and I don’t really care.

I look to Connor, surprised when I see his brows creased. They smooth in an instant, but his concern remains when he rests a hand against my arm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his gentle words accompanied by a brush of his mind against mine and his lips ghosting against my forehead. 

I curl my fists. He hasn’t been back long enough for me to throw all of this at him at once.

“I’m fine,” I promise. I step out of his grasp, past him, and climb into the top bunk. Connor takes a seat on the bottom, so I can’t see him.

“Did you hurt him?” 

I can’t help but smile at the hope in his voice. I flop onto my stomach and reach my hand into the open air between the bunks. He catches my hand and guides it to his head. I gently run my fingertips over his hair before letting my arm swing freely over the edge.

“No,” I promise. “I didn’t do anything.”

The silence between us, for the first time in a long time, isn’t heavy.

I sigh, messing with his hair again. “I missed you. I still do.”

“This was your idea”

“I know.”

Quiet reigns for again.

I twist a lock of hair between my fingers, and he absently entwines his fingers with mine to stop me. I haven’t felt this at ease in his company in more than two years—for him, it’s been upwards of five. 

It feels like a part of the broken connection between us has healed.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been sitting when he lets go of my hand. I poke my head over the side of the bed to see his eyes grow hard. I look up and scowl at the sight of Kevin ambling over to the cell.

I force myself to sit up, willing my body to stop protesting quite so vigorously.

He stops when he enters, the illusion of my shield shattered. His confusion gives me a chance to see just how badly he came out of the fight.

A nasty bruise spreads from his nose to his left eye and blood still trickles from his nostrils. Dark stains on his sleeves confirm that the bleed was much worse.

I slide from the top bunk to stand at his side. I threw the fight, might as well play the part. He catches me around the shoulders possessively, turning a smug grin on Connor.

He stands, barely attempting to hide his irritation. He glances at me, but does nothing else to keep me from becoming a passive bystander. .

“What happened to your face, boss?” Connor asks, leaning against my bed.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t ya’ Sawyer?”

Connor averts his eyes moodily. “If you kept going, you'd have ruined everything before we even got started.”

“Shove it. I thought the whole idea’s not to make a scene. Sure made a scene stoppin’ that fight.”

Connor doesn’t say anything. I reach my mind out to his, but I can’t get past the tension crackling like electricity. I furrow my brows. He doesn’t seem to notice anything, now turned away.

Kevin breaks my concentration by brushing my hair back from my ear. His breath tickles my neck as he leans close. I suppress an uncomfortable shiver, but I angle my head toward him to let him know I’m listening.

“Teach him a lesson,” he murmurs.

I freeze, turned to stone at the command. Connor shows no sign that he heard, glazed eyes fixed on the wall of the cell. I try again to reach him, but a wall of worry remains in my way.

“Perry, you hear me?” Kevin shakes me, his grip on my shoulder tightening.

Yeah, no.

I push away from him, matching the glare he turns on me. “You’re crossing a line, and you know it.”

Connor finally looks up, his eyes asking his questions for him. I don’t have time to answer now, especially if he’s not listening to me. This isn’t his fight. I need to handle this myself.

“I won the fight.” Kevin’s voice doesn’t raise, insistent petulance remaining his defining feature. At least he’s reliable for one thing. “You’re supposed to listen.”

Is he serious?

“The fight?” I hack out a laugh. “No, that’s not how this works.”

“But—”

“No.” I have to keep a snarl out of my voice, reminding myself that we’re all supposed to be on the same side. “If you think I’m giving up control to you, you’re crazy. I’m not scared to do this without you. Again.”

The blood drains from Kevin’s face. He shoots a nervous glance at Connor, as if expecting reassurance from him. He gets none, merely a shrug as the two of us await his response.

“This is—” He flicks his eyes between us and licks his lips, fidgeting. “I knew I should’a stayed home.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Connor asks, peeved. “I gave you every chance to back out.”

“I— You—” Kevin splutters, his anger building up again. “What ‘bout you? Why’d you come back to this shitshow?”

Connor glances at me, hesitating. Kevin catches it and grins, latching onto whatever he can, it seems, to stay in control of the situation.

“That’s it, innit? Gotta follow her—” At that, Connor’s lip curls. “—everywhere, don’tcha?”

“Kevin,” I mutter, but he ignores my warning.

“Gotta trot behind her like a puppy, never mind that she doesn’t care none about us.” Kevin’s smile turns snide, more of a sneer than anything else. “Think you’re different from the rest of us? She’d let you die in a second, just watch her.”

If he says anything else, I don’t hear him. He doesn’t know anything. I know he’s just trying to rile Connor up. I know he’s shooting in the dark for what might hurt him, but he has shitty aim. I’ll wipe that smug grin off his face.

A hand closes around my wrist before I can make a move.

The warmth from Connor’s grip spreads like fire from the point of contact to my other hand, curled into a fist. It soothes my nerves, stealing away my desire to drive my knuckles into Kevin’s mouth. 

I swallow hard and take a step back.

Connor lets go. I turn my back on the boys, not wanting to think about what just passed between us with Kevin still here. I need him to leave. He needs to go, Connor and I need to talk. 

Really talk.

The static crowds in. The same sparks keeping me from Connor’s thoughts, that turned his words to nothing, it all presses in. Even the voices behind me disappear, swallowed by the empty white noise. I close my eyes, fists clenched at my sides. Any more that that, Connor will notice and it’ll only get worse.

I thought I would leave this at home if I came here. I thought I would be able to do all of this, but it just won’t go away. It followed me here, though, and isn’t that exactly what I deserve? I dragged us here. Everyone came because Connor asked for me.

They came because I asked.

And that’s not good enough. This is no place for any of them.

It’s not real. None of it is real, imaginary hate and pain that I’m putting all of us through. It’s a weekend trip everyone regrets the second you pile in the car, but worse. This is more than a weekend, and we all have to die before it can end.

Tears spring to my eyes, and that seems to be enough to dispel the effect of the static wrapped around me. I stare, once again, at the red rock of my cell wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. After a moment, the argument behind me trickles back in, and I peek over my shoulder to check on them.

“—for this, you know! She came to me with the idea,” Kevin leans insolently against the bars.

“You know that you’re pushing too far. They said it themself, why are you still asking for more?” Connor’s mouth presses a hard line, his voice barely level, and the sparks still fly from his mind when I try to reach out.

I was naive to think we could go back to normal so easily.

“She knew what she was getting into. You knew what she was getting into,” Kevin says. Connor practically snarls in response, and I stare at him. 

I’ve never seen that before.

“We both thought you could be trusted to keep hold of yourself!”

“I can be!” Kevin straightens up and includes me in his glare once again. “We gotta make it believable, right? It wouldn’t be if—”

“I don’t care!” Connor hisses, finally letting go of what little hold he had on his temper. Kevin doesn’t flinch, but I do. “You’re out of control. We can’t do any of this without them, so you’d better think carefully before you try to pull shit like that again!”

I can’t take my eyes off of him. I have never seen Connor lose his temper. I’ve seen him mad, alright, but he’s never like this. Back straight, his voice cold and scathing, it’s like looking at a stranger.

I step back, but there’s nowhere to go. The detached look on Connor’s face doesn’t belong there. For the first time since he’s returned, I wish I could have the old Connor back. The simple voice, always happy, even if he was an absolute prick.

At the thought, Connor’s gaze shifts, softer, to me. His head tilts, barely, in my direction, brows furrowed. I must look like shit, because his eyes widen, stricken. He opens his mouth, shifting to face me, but doesn’t get a chance to say anything.

“At least I’m not defending a selfish little whore with a god-complex instead of letting her fight her own battles,” Kevin snarls, shattering the frail contact between me and Connor. 

I turn a glare on Kevin, eyes narrowed. A triumphant gleam lights his eyes, but his victory is short lived. I call out when Connor launches himself at him.

They tumble out of the cell, and I don’t see much in the rising dust. I follow them out and scream for them to stop, but a crowd begins to form. They shunt me to the side as they all gather around to cheer the two on and join in. I try to push through, but the crowd is too thick and I’m quickly shoved back into my own cell.

A siren blares. For a terrible second, the prison seems to freeze. All sound but the siren is suspended. 

The fight pauses. No one moves.

We hold our breath as one.

Then, the second passes.

The whole crowd takes off, dragging the fight with them. The pounding of feet on stone and shouts from around the yard permeate the air. I flee to my own bed, covering my ears and waiting for it to end.

Finally, it does, and the cells screech shut soon after. I don’t move, don’t even open my eyes. A shock of static fills the air, and I know that the warden’s face is now filling the large screen in the yard. If anything, this makes me cringe further away.

“Good afternoon, children,” my brother says, dangerously cordial. “That was the second skirmish today. It seems as though some of you have more energy than you can deal with, so work hours will be doubled for the next few days.”

A groan passes through the prison like a massive sigh. There it is. At least Connor and Kevin both have power enough here to keep from getting killed by angry inmates.

“We know who’s at fault, however, and you can be assured that she will be punished. Two nights in the hole, I think.”

A block of ice settles in my gut. I open my eyes to see a blacksuit crossing the yard.

No.

No, no, no.

I can’t go down there. Not yet, I can’t. Maybe I should have just fought Connor earlier. He would have forgiven me eventually, and this wouldn’t be happening.

I mechanically leave my bed to wait. Fighting won’t make this any easier. When the cell slides open, I don’t fight the blacksuit. He grabs my arm and pulls me along. I stare blankly at the cells that we pass, at the hostile glares and smug grins.

I hardly notice the siren screaming out again, turning my eyes to watch Cross in the big screen as the steel door swings open. Just before I pass through the door and lose sight of his shark’s grin, he addresses me directly.

“Busy first week, wouldn’t you say?”

~-S-~

I expect to be thrown directly into solitary, but the blacksuit surprises me by leading me past the steel hatches in the ground. I glance at him, but say nothing. My next thought is the infirmary, but when we forgo the plastic flaps of the wheezers’ domain, I know exactly where we’re going.

We walk silently down another hall, toward a forked path I’ve taken far too many times. 

Finally, we turn right and approach a sleek door fitted into the rock wall. The suit stops at the mouth of the hallway. He nods at me before backing away from the opening in the rock. 

Even they don’t want to be anywhere near what the room contains, I guess.

I’ve gotten used to the stench of darkness and the gravity of Furnace. I turn the knob and cross the threshold with just a moment of hesitation. It’s almost relieving to be in the presence of this kind of raw power. 

But my gaze lingers on the old rotary phone upon the desk as I enter.

The weight on my back seems to double, and my confidence splinters. The phone, sitting innocuously on the smooth wood, stares at me while dread pools in my gut. Sweat breaks on my forehead, and my breath catches.

Then the man behind the desk clears his throat and my unease vanishes. The room is just a room again, the phone just a phone.

I only look at Cross for a moment before crossing my arms and averting my eyes. He’s smiling, which is always a bad sign. I don’t approach him, glaring at the red flag bearing the Furnace logo behind his head. The logo is a mere replacement for his old order’s symbol, and the thought makes my stomach churn.

“Now you’re just being childish,” he says. He retains a note of humor, and that’s a bad sign.

I grunt a response that means nothing, and he chuckles. The sound of paper sliding against the wood of the desk piques my interest, all the same. 

“Very well. Sit, at the very least.”

After a moment, I grudgingly cross to the chair he gestures to. I drop into it and snatch up the paper he’s offered. I don’t look at it, though, finally regarding him with disdain.

Now, what does he want?

“I was going to find an excuse to bring you down here, but,” he leans forward and rests his chin on steepled fingers. “You decided to start a riot in my prison.” 

I tut at his word choice, somehow forcing my frown to deepen.

“That was hardly a riot,” I mutter.

“Semantics.” He waves my words away. I wonder how well it would go over if I just walked away. “You’re here now. I may as well have the pleasure of having you see this in my own office.” 

Remembering the paper in my hand, I look down and unfold the thin document. My irritation fades, and I lose hold of the glare I’d planned to retain throughout this meeting. 

It’s the blueprint I was working on before coming down here. He’s closed the loopholes I purposefully created, passages that would allow escape under the right circumstances. It’s harsher, reaching further into the ground, and it hurts my heart.

“These are the real ones?” I ask, tracing the passages with a finger. Why would he show me this?

“Yes.” I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes at his lofty tone. He doesn’t look at me, his attention focused on the paper in my hand. “We’re starting construction before the week is out. It will open within a few years.”

He peers at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips quirking up.

Like a slap, I realize what he’s getting at. I don’t answer, looking back at the sketch. He’s just as arrogant as I remember.

What, does he think I was excited about the German prison?

Eventually, after I’ve stewed for a while, he breaks the silence.

“You still have the option to join the right side of this, you know.”

“Never,” I answer, voice level. 

I struggle to keep my expression just as placid, carefully folding the blueprint. I push it back toward him on the desk, trying and failing to meet his eyes. He’s hiding something, still. 

May as well push my luck.

“Are you still doing it?”

He grins. The shark’s smile, so familiar from the blacksuits, chills my blood coming from him.

“Doing what, pray tell?”

You slimy, arrogant, piece of shit.

I don’t answer, can’t let myself answer. He has to know what I’m talking about, there’s no way he doesn’t.

After a length of silence, he looks away. He presses a button and calls me an escort to my cell. “This conversation obviously isn’t over, but you have a lot to think about.”

“You won’t find forgiveness here,” I swear, pushing myself out of my seat. “You’re going to pay for everything eventually.”

I nearly turn, meaning to meet my escort at the door, when his eyes finally catch mine. The office peels away, a flickering series of images replacing it.

A young boy, pinned down, a gas mask stitched to his skin. His shrieks echo, even in the instant he remains in sight.

Trenches, the dead stretched as far as the eye can see, a man that is not a man turning to face me. The shadow consuming him reaches for me before even the man’s face is visible.

A dark orchard, a single raven perched on a branch, its eyes piercing me. It opens its beak, its shriek lost in the howls of a unseen beast.

Someone has been skulking in Furnace’s old memories.

The office snaps back into place, and I have to catch myself to keep from falling back into the chair. I don’t look at Cross, I can’t, but I can still see the edges of his grin.

I asked for that, and I know it.

“I look forward to it, then.”

A blacksuit I hadn’t noticed entering grabs my arm, but I jerk away. 

I turn my eyes on Cross again, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I know I must represent everything weak in the world he most despises.

Well, back at you, brother.

“I will never stand at your side.”

I turn and sweep out of the room. The blacksuit marches at my side, and I wonder how much he might have heard from that office. He leads me down the hall, all the way back to the hatches in the ground.

One of them waits, open, at my feet.

I finally look to the soldier, not wanting to forget who I’m really fighting for. I recognize him, one of the two that met me at the Black Fort yesterday.

He directs a short nod at me.

I manage a smile. A weak one, but still better than nothing.

I clamber down into the hole in the ground, not looking up until after the hatch closes above me, sealing me in complete darkness. I can’t see the hatch, or anything else.

Staring up, shapes seem to move around me. The slithering spectres remain just out of sight, making the chamber seem much larger than it really is. The thought constricts my throat, and breath won’t come to me.

I’m back in the dark, in the ground, and I’m going to die here.

I stumble away and my back hits the wall. The darkness settles as if it never moved, my fear releasing its hold on my lungs. Scared of the dark. Scared of the underground. Scared of Cross. 

Why did this have to be the universe I’m stuck on?

I need to keep busy. I’ve been here for less than a minute, and I’m already on edge. Though I know the hole’s dimensions from past experience, I map out the tiny cell with shaking hands. If nothing else, this assures me that nothing is hiding here. 

There’s simply not enough room.

I sit against the wall opposite the hole that calls itself a toilet. I try to fill the silence, recalling songs I love and whistling the ones I can’t. My voice shakes, but the sound itself keeps my breathing steady. Eyes closed, I hope to convince myself that I’m back home.

I almost can.

The clammy sweat on my skin lingers, the scent of decay reaching its slimy fingers even here, all of it reminds me of where I am. The nectar, clinging to everything like the sticky residue of tobacco, threatens to seep through my very skin.

My voice catches, but I don’t open my eyes. The quiet lasts too long, and I can’t think of another tune to replace it with.

“Sawyer?”

My fear drains away, and I cock my head uselessly. The voice didn’t come from within the cell, so my ears won’t help me here. I rest my head back against the wall, allowing my awareness to leave my body.

I stand above myself, looking down where I’m still shrouded in inky shadow. With a breath, I look up and flash out of the cell. I’m met with a blur of color as I rush along the corridors, up an elevator shaft, and into the empty yard.

The lockdown is still in effect, so there’s only one place he could be. 

I rise in the air, scanning the cells until I find him on the fourth floor. Approaching the cell, I find Connor pacing. Dominic lounges on the top bunk, listening to the words tumbling out of Connor’s mouth.

“… for hours and all I’ve gotten from them is flashes. Something’s wrong.”

“It really hasn’t been that long,” Dominic interjects, but Connor doesn’t seem to hear him.

“All of this is just—I don’t know—but the blacksuits haven’t told me anything.” He pauses, looking out at the quiet yard. I follow his line of sight to see a small gathering of soldiers down below. “Maybe I was wrong about them, their loyalty.”

That’s enough of that.

I slink into the cell, reaching out to Connor. The rigid set of his shoulders loosens, and he leans into the hand I rest on the small of his back. He exhales slowly, releasing his tension in a shuddering sigh.

“Connor?”

I glance over my shoulder to see Dominic watching Connor, his brow creased. Connor looks back, too, much less annoyed than I am to have him here.

“It’s them. They’re okay.”

His words of reassurance could be directed at either of them, though Dominic does seem to relax further. He sinks deeper into his thin mattress, turning his eyes away from Connor. He gives a soft acknowledgement, but seems to ignore us otherwise.

I do the same, not wanting to dwell on him more than I must. I turn back to Connor, trailing a finger over a bruise forming on his jaw. That’s my fault. I try to ignore it.

“Did you miss me?” I tease, instead. 

His answering grin is marred by another puff of breath leaving him, this time tied with the essence of regret. When he speaks, they are words that only I can hear, shared through our mutual connection.

“You are okay, right? It was taking awhile, and I wasn’t sure—”

“You know better,” I interrupt, weaving around him. “I’m always fine, remember? I got distracted by a conversation with Cross.”

His brow furrows. “What did he say?”

“He was friendly—as friendly as he can be, I guess.” I pause, considering my words carefully. “He told me that I could switch sides.”

“What?”

“I know. He threw me in here to think things over.”

He sinks onto the bottom bunk, an audible hum emitting from his mind—better than the sparking barrier from before, at least. I cup his cheek, and he looks up. I know he can’t see me, but the concern crackling between his skin and my fingers lets me know that he feels me here.

“Hey,” I murmur, pressing my lips against his forehead, mirroring his go-to method of chasing my worries away. “Everything will be fine.”

“Something feels different this time.” He looks back out to the yard, and I follow his gaze, dropping my hand. Everything looks normal to me. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s wrong.”

That, at least, is a concern I can address.

“Cross is doing something. Turning the new blacksuits against me.” Connor’s gaze flicks back toward me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the details, just what the kids have told me, but he’s up to something down here.”

He nods, flinty determination echoing hollowly from his thoughts to mine. I don’t know what he could possibly be thinking beyond that, with his teeth worrying at the corner of his lip and his eyes focused once again at the dusty yard.

We sit in silence, and I relax as the cold waves pouring from my friend gradually ease until I can’t feel his thoughts anymore. I brush a hand through his hair, sad to see those sandy curls dull and limp from so long in the prison.

He turns to me, his eyes focused somewhere to my right. “You have a plan, right? For when we get out of here?”

I nod, though I know he can’t see it. I don’t know how much I should tell him, if I want this to go right. I have to hide so much from the others for this to work.

I remember what I told Cross, that I would never stand with him again. I’ll be lying to everyone so much if I go through with this, and Connor deserves better than that. He deserves to know, in case something goes wrong.

More importantly, in case it goes right.

“Of course,” I answer, finally. “But first, we need to get you out of the prison. I won’t be going with you.”

He isn’t happy about my plan, as I tell him more about it, but he eventually agrees that it’s the best chance we’ve got. I’m glad, because it looks more and more like I won’t have much choice about destroying Cross fully at the end of this.

I should have realized a long time ago that this isn’t a game anymore.

~-S-~

All too soon, I know that I have to go. I can’t stay away from my body for too long, not with the dangers of solitary hanging as a threat, and I still want to have a listen around the prison.

I’m not surprised, upon hearing the complaints, at what I hear.

Of course, Cross had to make them hate me more than they already do. I need to figure out how to deal with that. Kevin—if he’ll even help anymore—can only do so much against a mob of angry kids.

And these kids are more than just angry.

To them, I’m just another piece of the machine that sent them down here for a lifetime. There’s no way to explain to them that I’m not Jessica Furnace, that I want to tear down Cross just like them, or that I’m trying to get them out of here.

They wouldn’t believe me anyway, if I told them the truth. Even if they were real people, they would want a scapegoat.

With no further business in the yard, I open my eyes to snap back into solitary. The darkness hits me like a punch, the negative of the brightly lit yard flashing when I blink.

I rub my eyes, stretching. Everything is sore, between work this morning and the fight, exhaustion seeps its way into my bones. I might have healed my injuries, but the strain on my mind and body are finally catching up to me.

I should try to stay awake as long as I can, though, even if the thought of being here sends my heart racing again. If I wait, maybe I won’t even notice two days passing.

Wishful thinking, of course. Though it feels like hours, as Connor said, I doubt I’ve been here for more than one. Time stands still around here.

I’m still processing my options when the first tendrils of thick darkness begin creeping from the edges of my vision. Irritably, hoping to postpone the fear that comes with the hallucinations in the hole, I swat through the things to disperse them. More appear, and I feel as though I’m being watched.

“It’s not real,” I mutter. “Super fake. Not real.” 

I continue the short phrase under my breath, still trying to come to a decision. The darkness weaves around me until it pushes at my mouth and nose, threatening to suffocate me. My mantra never wavers, though the sense of claustrophobia diminishes my resolve.

It’s not real.

A laugh that I can’t really hear sounds through the cell, then:

“Are you sure?”

I don’t hear it, not really, but my mouth goes dry at the words. I turn to be faced with an echo of an old memory. I know that it’s not the real thing, not even in this world made up of dreams and make believe, but it hits me just as violently.

It’s not real.

I don’t realize that I’m backing away until I’m stopped by the wall.

The figure approaches, emitting harsh light that keeps it in sharp relief, and I slide down the barrier. The way it moves, too long arms jutting out from a twisted body, sends my heart into my throat. 

I bury my head in my arms, pulling myself into a tight ball against the wall. My lips form the familiar words, but my voice can no longer support them.

I promise, it’s not real.

With my eyes screwed shut, I cower from what stands before me. Its coal eyes, the thick ichor spilling from its childish smile. Even thinking of the shade that has joined me in the cell sends a sob racking my body. A mile under the Earth, far from any help, I hide desperately from a mere shadow of what I once allowed myself to become.

None of this is real.

~-S-~

I don’t know when I fell asleep, or how long I’ve been out. My dreams have been scattered and abstract, but the taste of death lingers in my mouth. When I wake fully, I don’t dare open my eyes or move. I force myself to swallow the panic upon remembering the events leading to my nap.

I can’t afford to make a sound.

The thundering of heavy feet and distant gunshots tell me the children Cross named rats have attacked the compound. The slightest movement could alert them to my presence; I silently pray that they haven’t noticed me already. They would tear me apart as I am now.

I take a shaky breath and try to calm down. I need to find peace or I’ll really be trapped.

I think of home, knowing that I want to be proud of myself when I finally return there. My family, not even aware that part of me is hidden in the recesses of my mind. They must see me every day, not realizing how much I miss them. The thought tears at my heartstrings, so I try a different tact.

Gentle breaths, shallow but content. The form of a young cat curled in a ball replaces that of my sister. Dipper’s purr is strong, and the white designs curling through his gray fur has me smiling. Even from so far away, I can nearly feel the soft comfort of his presence.

Holding onto the feeling, I separate my mind from my body and allow the thought of my little boy to fade away. Hesitantly, I peer out of the cell. I squint in the light, but the corridor is empty for now. 

There’s no immediate danger.

It’s another ally to visit, long overdue, that has me traveling through the tunnels. I wind my way down the passageway, stopping only briefly outside of Cross’s quarters to find it vacant. I share a brief smile with the void before moving on. 

I hope the rats get him.

I fly along the corridor, finding the broken door beyond which the tunnels of unmapped caves lay. A bright, open cavern lit by halogen lamps shows the cracks in the wall in sharp relief.

One of these cracks is deeper than it seems, and I pass through it. Up a hill and deeper into the darkness and the caves, I try to remain calm. If I don’t, I’ll end up back in the hole with nothing to show for my excursion.

A flicker of light in a lonely tunnel is my only warning that I’ve found Simon and his friends. I stop outside the scope of the light, watching the group.

Simon carries the silver eyes of the blacksuits, showing his unfortunate history in the infirmary. His legs, his body, and one of his arms bulge from his surgeries, the scars barely hidden by the shredded overalls he wears. 

The last time I saw him, Jay had finished the last procedure to return his limbs to as near their original size as possible.

He was healing, and he chose to come back to this. What could Connor have possibly said to convince him to return here? Even with the comfort of knowing he can return to his own life in the Cube afterward, why would he come back?

The other two, Ozzie and Pete, gather on the opposite side of the dim flashlight. Ozzie, a skinny kid that might as well have come straight from gen-pop, stares at the light as if in a trance. Pete, on the other hand, carries the weight of a bloated, scarred torso while his limbs remain that of a child.

My form wavers, the thought of Cross tearing my old friends apart nearly sending me back to the hole. Instead, I drift to Simon’s side and murmur in his ear.

“Simon.” 

He jumps violently, sweeping the darkness with his needle-eyes as he stands. The others ask him what happened, but he doesn’t answer. I hum, trying to calm him. His eyes fall on the space in which I hide, still panicked. 

“It’s me.”

At that, he pauses. He turns back to the other boys, kneeling back down to their level. He tells them to wait, that he’ll come back soon. The moment he turns around to face me in the darkness, a weak smile greets me.

“You okay?” He whispers as we pass further out of earshot. I follow him into the gloom.

“Yeah, fine. I’m stuck in solitary and thought I would check in with you.” He gives my general direction a sharp look, missing by a few meters.

“You should be careful.”

“It’s two nights for a fight I wasn’t even in.” I pause, a scream cutting the air near my cell. “I don’t want to listen to them tear each other apart.”

“What, the rats? I'm surprised you care,” he says, though his conviction is weaker than I would have thought.

I remain silent, mulling over my answer. We reach The Steeple before I come up with anything. The rock goes up into infinity, and I focus on that endlessness when I speak.

“They’re all my children, after everything I’ve been through with them. The rats don’t know any better.” I sigh, looking back at him. “I’m a worse bleeding heart than ever.”

“Maybe it’s better for them to die.” His voice echoes in the cavern, reaching up to the unseen ceiling. “You know better than me what a rat lives with.”

I nod, thinking of the apparition from my cell. I’ve almost crossed that line more than once. I look to him, only knowing where he is from the shine of his eyes. I nearly ask him, finally, why he came back, but the sound of screeching metal from my cell distracts me.

“Shit, I have to go.”

I don’t have time to explain, returning with a blink to my cell. I scramble to my feet, not sure how well I can defend myself against a rat. No nectar, already weak, I brace myself against the light of the opening hatch.

[moreracquetball]

For the ship thing, can you do David and Bryan from The New Normal please??

(I love this so much, ahhh; godbless you for asking this)

-who cries when someone dies in a movie

Bryan. And if it’s a character that he really likes, he goes through like a day of mourning the next day by like wearing all black and saying stuff like “you know, as [Character name] used to say…” and David just gets so ooovvveerrr ittt.

-who wears the ugly holiday garb

David. Bryan doesnt usually complain bc at least David gets into the festive spirit a little bit

-who pays for the meals

It’s about 50/50. They’re p chill about like money and stuff

-who slams the oven door and who plays the trombone

(When Goldie and Shania aren’t home). Bryan : trombone. David: oven.

-who brings home stray animals

They both do. They’re both such saps, jfc.

-who leaves the bathroom door open

Def David. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it.

-who tells the ‘dad jokes’

D A V I D. Bryan rolls his eyes but he def repeats them to Rocky the next day this is fact.

-who wants kids more

Uhh??? They both want kids. Three, to be exact.

-who travels more

Bryan, for like producer gigs and stuff esp when he branches out from tv shows and into movies.

-who spends more cash

Bryan can spend a lot at stores, but David can spend a loooottt on overpriced jerseys and limited editions balls and sports memorabilia.

-who buys the things in infomercials

Bryan. He once had a whole garden of chia pets in their yard.

-who draws in the dust on their cars

David since he’s usually the first to wake up and leave. He leaves cute messages like “hope you have a great day” and “try not to make that blonde actress cry again” and “you drooled on my pillow last night, jerk.” Bryan never erases them.

-who starts the snowball fights

Def def def David but Bryan always finishes them

-who throws away the directions to things

Bryan. And David always fishes them out of the trash when Bryan isn’t looking. And he tries not to look smug when Bryan eventually gives up with a huff and he reveals that he still has them.

-who puts up holiday decor

B R Y A N. Did you see the halloween episode??

-who is more likely to forget to bathe

David, def.

-who gets more obsessed about things

Bryan!!

-who sings in the shower more often.

B r y a n, are you even kidding? He also sings when he makes breakfast or plays with the dogs or is rocking Sawyer to sleep, and every time (despite that it happens literally all the time), David’s heart just melts at the sound of his husband’s voice.

[ubercorpbiz]

A historical exhibition of Richmond’s most obscure and prolific company curated by Noah Scalin at Gallery5 September 1–28. With objects from the collections of 30+ artists.

What if a huge and powerful corporation existed right under your nose and you never knew it was there? Meet Übercorp. Since its formation in 1887 by a German immigrant here in Richmond, VA, Übercorp has been a powerful force in the pharmaceutical world. And yet, despite its long history – and forays into myriad side ventures – Übercorp has been off the radar for the general public. Indeed you may have been using their products for years without even realizing it, unless you noticed their little octopus logo. Now however, thanks to the work of curator Noah Scalin and over 30 collectors of Übercorp memorabilia Gallery5 is pleased to present 130 Years of Übercorp: 1887–2017; the first ever historical survey of this influential corporation. This unprecedented collection of objects – from personal artifacts of company founder Albrecht Über to recent marketing materials & prototypes – presents a fascinating insight into the truly unique work that has been done by Übercorp and the surprisingly long reach of its various tentacles. “Everyone here at Übercorp is so happy for the public to finally get a greater insight into our wonderful company and the great things it’s done for Richmond and the world!” Übercorp’s press representative Randall Quarterlock expressed the company’s enthusiasm about the show. “After the regretful destruction of our own archives a few years ago, we never imagined a show like this would be possible!” The exhibition features items from the collections of notable Richmonders as well as Übercorp fans from around the world including: Kelly Alder, Dale Brumfield, Nico Cathcart, Phil Cheney, Brad Choma, Eric Collins, Madonna Dersch, Julie Elkins, Freehand Profit, Mike & Lindsay Garrett, Nicole Gomez, Ed Harrington, Thomas Heinrichs, Adam Juresko, Meena Khalili & Brent Dedas, Bizhan Khodabandeh, Philip Kightlinger, Diane Leonard, Coryndon Luxmoore, Tom Megginson, Liana Mensch, Mikemetic, Sam Moll, Leah Palmer Preiss, Denton Pretorius, Adarsh Ramakrishnan, Keith M. Ramsey, Oura Sananikone, Savage Apparel Co., Morgan Sawyer, Ross Trimmer, Betsy VanDeusen, Marc Van Gurp, Liam Ward, Steven Warrick. 130 Years of Übercorp: 1887–2017 curated by Noah Scalin September 1–28, 2017 @ Gallery5 200 W. Marshall St. Richmond, VA

[thepermanentrainpress]

REVIEW: FAN EXPO VANCOUVER AT THE VANCOUVER CONVENTION CENTRE - MARCH 2ND TO 3RD, 2019

The first panel on Saturday was Mehcad Brooks, currently known for his work as James Olsen/Guardian in CW’s Supergirl. He had an inspiring panel, touching on race and gender, social media ‘keyboard warriors’ who attempt to put others down, music (his stage name is King Gvpsv), and doing things one is passionate about. He discussed how DC Comics’ Jimmy Olsen was historically Caucasian, and how proud he was to be apart of creating diversity, portraying a black male version on the show. In fact, one superhero he would love to play is Bruce Wayne/Batman. That being said, he noted the importance of “creating your own superheroes” if you’re passionate about creativity, whether that be starting from the drawing board or adding attributes to those already brought to life – Mehcad is currently developing a superhero of his own, with a graphic novel to stay tuned for.

The one statement he said that stuck with me was, “perfectionism is the highest form of procrastination.” As an artist, it’s the best excuse not to do anything, and he uses that to fuel his spiritual journey as a creator and human being. I was really impressed with his connection to the audience in his words, and look forward to seeing his projects as they continue to unfold.

I caught a brief portion of George Takei’s self-moderated panel, hearing him take the stage with an emphatic “Oh Myyy” (to the delight of audience members)! He recognized the original Star Trek fans, and the new generation that keeps the franchise alive and thriving, noting the success of CBS’ Star Trek: Discovery. He recognized the importance of keeping ideals in mind (“in an insane reality” as the current situation in the US). A fan asked his opinion if achieving a utopia in the real world was a possibility, to which Takei replied no, but it is “still a dream that we should aspire to reach.” Takei is currently in Vancouver filming AMC’s The Terror, set in a Japanese internment camp during WWII.

The Flash panel was wild, this cast knows how to have fun. Featuring Tom Cavanagh, Robbie Amell, Carlos Valdes, Danielle Nicolet and Hartley Sawyer, the panel had mini donuts a plenty (they asked, and devoted fans delivered, not once but multiple times throughout their time on stage)! They talked briefly about the upcoming episode set to feature King Shark vs. Gorilla Grodd, and the large budget they had for its special effects. Danielle addressed the absence of Joe West this season (cast member Jesse L. Martin took a medical leave after suffering a back injury this past summer), but said he would be back on-screen soon. Amell, who no longer appears as Ronnie Raymond/Firestorm, is currently working on Amazon’s Upload, with sci-fi/action film Code 8 having premieres across the globe beginning in April. Cavanagh joked about Amell moving on from The Flash to “more expensive projects” and “greener pastures,” and this continued to be a running joke throughout the panel. New additions Nicolet and Sawyer were praised, for their work ethic and what they brought to their characters DA Cecile Horton and Ralph Dibny/Elongated Man.

During fan question period, Amell was asked about the crowdfunded Code 8 and working with cousin and Arrow star Stephen Amell (who he insisted was pronounced “steph-in” rather than “steve-in”). The pair always hoped to collaborate after having brief interactions in a past Arrowverse crossover, and were happy to do so with the sci-fi flick filmed in Toronto in 2017. There were also plugs for the Tom Cavanagh directed heist short Tom and Grant, which is now available for streaming on Vimeo. One of Cavanagh’s favourite and most challenging scenes, was when Reverse Flash killed Cisco Ramon (Valdes’ character) in Season 1’s “Out of Time.” One daring fan asked Valdes if there was truth to the rumours he’d be leaving the show after Season 5. He stayed mum, answering with an appropriate “I have a donut in my mouth.” It was a nice attempt. Nicolet and Valdes only had kind words to say about co-star Danielle Panabaker’s directing debut in episode 18, shot in February, describing her as a “boss lady” and “in control.” It was a fun panel, and you can see the family atmosphere created on-set translates similarly to their interactions with one another off-set.

During breaks in between panels, I had an opportunity to roam around the floor, to get a glimpse of the vast number of retailers, artists, and cosplayers on-hand for the event. I purchased a few postcards from illustrators Jenny Hsieh and chanteii – they have incredibly adorable artwork of shiba inus and cats, respectively. I also had to buy a couple of stickers from PIKARAR, because of my love for animals, naturally. There were booths with Funko pops, wigs, pins, medieval swords and armour, unique jewelry, kimonos, tees, fan art, boxes chalk full of comic books, and other pop culture memorabilia. It was overwhelming (in a good way)!

We stopped by the booth advertising locally filmed web series Followers: “An Internet Superhero Story.” The plot line is “a group of superheroes inspired by social media must collaborate together to take down Hater, who threatens to destroy the internet.” The trailer looked amusing with their special effects and action sequences, DIY costumes, and I look forward to checking out more of the episodes online!

On the cosplay side, I’m not too knowledgeable on anime/pop culture characters (I’ll be the first to admit this!) but there were many amazing costumes. I saw a Spider-Gwen posing for pictures with young girls, Iron Man, Deadpool, Harley Quinn, Disney princesses, and characters I was told were from popular video games League of Legends and Overwatch.

On Sunday, I sat in on some of Pamela Anderson’s panel. Anderson is known for her modelling and acting work in Baywatch and Home Improvement, but currently uses her platform to do activist work for animal rights, our environment, and climate change. I heard her response to a fan’s question: “everything you do has a repercussion” and the importance of enjoying experiences over consumption. The Pamela Anderson Foundation supports “organizations and individuals that stand on the front lines in the protection of human, animal, and environmental rights.” It is nice to see Anderson (who was born in Ladysmith, BC) be passionate about these global issues, and encouraging listeners to do the same in their everyday life.

My final full panel of the day was the Arrow and Legends of Tomorrow talk with Juliana Harkavy, Brandon Routh, and Courtney Ford. This was largely a fan Q&A panel, with one fan dressed as Roy Harper/Arsenal informing the cast how their characters have provided happiness and strength in darker personal times. It was a touching moment, and you could see the actors’ expressions shift, truly listening to each of the fan questions with understanding and empathy. Harkavy said her favourite part about playing Black Canary was meeting fans, while Routh expressed some disappointment in the Legends being left out of this past season’s ‘Elseworlds’ crossover event, but hoped they might make an appearance in the already announced ‘Crisis on Infinite Earths.’

They admitted that they don’t socially interact much with cast members of their fellow CW shows other than at conventions and dinners to celebrate season kickoffs (on-location filming, studios not being on the same lot), but it’s always fun when they do meet-up to catch up. Routh said that while he loves playing Ray Palmer/Atom on LOT, his role as Superman in Bryan Singer’s 2006 film Superman Returns is his favourite role to-date because of its significance in his career (as his first leading role). All three prepared for their current roles using comic books as guidance, imagery and past iterations of their characters.

We had a wonderful time at FAN EXPO Vancouver, being surrounded by like minded others with an excitement and passion for the arts, cosplay, comics, film and television. Our team also had an opportunity to interview Gotham’s David Mazouz, a stellar actor who shone as a young Bruce Wayne and who’s using his platform to shed light on animal rescue and advocacy, and creating positive change as young adults. The interview will be posted soon! Until then, we can’t wait until FAN EXPO’s return to our city next year.

Written by: Chloe Hoy Photo credit to: Timothy Nguyen

[sawyer-king]

Broken Promises -- part two

Sawyer woke before the sun had risen, before the birds had decided to start chirping. Each of his movements, each of his motions seemed to be slowed down, as if everything was set in slow motion. He had packed the night before, but had barely gotten any sleep despite the long ride that was ahead of him. His head was filled with the messages that Cassidy had sent to him, with the unanswered ones that he had sent to her, and the worry of whether his siblings left town before the Talbot pack was able to get their paws on them. The amount of sleep he had actually gotten was unknown to him, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering what was going to happen in the next twenty-four hours or so. It would take him just under a day to get back to Red Creek, less if he didn’t make any stops; but Sawyer knew that riding in the state he was in was not the safest option, and knew that he would likely be making frequent stops. For now, he stood in the middle of his room, for an unknown amount of time, gazing around at the items he had left behind when he took off on his own just after he’d turned eighteen.

There was memorabilia from the days he had wanted to try his hand at sports, from baseball to football and everything else in between; there were books that had been passed down to him from Elijah, ranging from how to safely handle a weapon to information about each of the supernatural creatures out in the world; and then there were photos, from family outings to school dances. Slowly, with uncertain footsteps, Sawyer found himself before his dresser, hand reaching out to grip at a photo that meant more to him than he would ever let on. It was he, Elijah, Parker and Thea; a photo that had been taken from when they were all much younger. The corners of his lips twitched into something of a smile, though there was a sad look in his eyes as he studied the faces of those that were closest to him. His other hand lifted, a finger running across the glass that sat atop the face of Elijah, smiling and happy.

It was during times when one knew everything was about to change, that they looked back on their life, gauged if they had lived it to its fullest potential. Sawyer wondered if he had.

Setting the photo down where it had been, he stepped away from the dresser before turning and grabbing his bag, slinging it onto his back before he was rushing from the confines of his room, of his family home as he burst out into the early morning. His chest felt constricted, as if he could no longer make his lungs take in the oxygen they so desperately needed. His head was swarming with the thoughts and images of what might happen if he didn’t make it back in time, if his siblings hadn’t made it out before the Talbot pack could find them. He couldn’t let that happen, he could never let that happen; not to Parker, not to Thea. His footsteps were quick, cutting across the lawn he had too many times wrestled with his brothers on, chased after his sister during a game of tag. His mind was somewhere else as he kicked a leg over his bike, settling in for the long ride before him before the engine roared to life that early morning. He barely thought to pull his helmet on, barely worked his goggles into place before he was tearing down the gravel drive to his family’s home, pulling onto the street as he started the long ride back to Red Creek, back to the unknown of what was going to happen to him for breaking that promise.