#and you notice this in combination with the fact that he is. notably. still wearing the jabot

[danothan]

started reading robin 2021 and i wanted to take the time to appreciate two of the most beautiful spreads in issue #1. they captivated me with how gorgeous and momentous they felt, which must have been the point bc i ended up staring at them sm that the symbolism finally kicked in

SPREAD 1:

1) LOVE the red and green at play, it’s such a difficult color scheme to get right lest you end up making the whole piece feel like a christmas card, but gleb melnikov pulled it off. the environment is rich and elegant and well-contrasted; it rly brings out damian’s classic red/green robin combo, even tho he’s not actually wearing his robin suit here. the green of his clothing highlights the green of talia’s, as well as the assassin’s tattoos, and, when combined with the cool-toned background, makes the red just pop out at you. pretty palette aside, it’s a very calculated choice in colors.

2) speaking of red, melnikov rly wanted you to notice the blood in these two pages. from the emphasis of the words DEMON BLOOD to the reflection of damian in the blood puddle, it only draws attention to the fact that his blade is perfectly clean of it in the second panel. one can only assume that talia killed that guy so hard that damian’s sword was caught in the collateral (damn talia !). it frames damian as the one to land the killing blow, as though his doubts/restraint with killing mean nothing because he still has the blood on his hands, blood passed down from talia. that doesn’t necessarily make it true ofc, but it does give us a reflection of his mindset with the blood acting as a literal mirror.

now before we delve into the second spread, lemme preface this with some context: many characters will refer to damian as an actual bird (“what better way to take out a robin than with a hawke,” “i’ve fought little birds like you before,” etc.) which speaks to his reputation, but i think it’s most notable when coming from talia:

at first, it’s used condescendingly, as it usually is from most ppl, and she speaks in a possessive tone when she talks abt returning him to the nest. she even tells him that if he IS to be taken under her wing, she would not treat him as her son but as a weapon. however, we know that this contradicts her intentions as she later uses the same “baby bird” petname as a term of endearment, even to calling him her son—notably when he is out of earshot.

you get the sense that they have this unspoken code of conduct around each other—family dynamics tend to be rigid in that way—but there’s also this feeling of regret as well as unfamiliarity navigating it coming from talia. i mean, she said it herself: damian was just a baby bird. he flew out of the nest too early.*

*see read more

so why does she taunt him for running back to his mother? why is she pushing him away? and why does she monologue for so long that she lets her guard down and closes her eyes long enough for him to disappear…?

SPREAD 2:

BECAUSE DAMIAN IS JUMPING OUT OF THE HELICOPTER!!! BECAUSE TALIA IS PUSHING HIM OUT OF THE NEST !!!!

talia doubled down on her militaristic plans as an opening for damian to leave. with that sense of regret mentioned earlier, talia knows she raised damian under harsh conditions, but she doesn’t know to raise him differently either, so she urges him to find his own path. presenting “the way of the demon or the way of the bat” as the only 2 options to her already rebellious son was guaranteed sabotage. she pushed him too early when he was younger, but she knows that her baby bird is ready to fly now :”)

bonus: what a classic jason todd move to wear a mask underneath your mask btw. guess it just runs in the family! (but on a deeper, unironic level, damian switches out both his robin and his demon suit into this new one. this obviously symbolizes his forging a new path, but also reveals his intent/doubts abt the whole confrontation. a mask underneath his mask? he was never truly looking to rejoin the league. after running away from bruce, he runs to talia to test the waters and see if he would do better there. and when it ends in the same shadowing of an ambitious parent, he ditches the whole thing. the fact that he had a back-up plan meant that his heart wasn’t in it, just as talia’s heart wasn’t in keeping him caged. a confirmation bias given permission by a mother’s facade. god, the al ghul mindgames are truly smth to behold)

*so much can be said abt how talia’s approach to parenting parallels and contrasts bruce’s. they both have the same good intentions for their son, and they both realize that he’s too young to face what he had and what he’s abt to. but talia wants to start the healing process of her control in his upbringing, and bruce wants to prevent damian from having to face it alone knowing firsthand what suffering he “endured to become batman.” one is letting go, the other is desperate to bring him back.

it’s such a fascinating look into the push and pull of their fatal flaws and mistakes as parents, as well as making them feel human and reasonable within the limits of all they know and are capable of. OF COURSE they’re overcompensating for their regrets, that’s just so… them!

and the fact that you can see both parents’ traits and influence in damian as he searches for his own identity just makes the whole family feel well-rounded. robin 2021 is so good you guys, it’s too fucking good

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Oh! What about 88 “if you hate me so much, why are you letting me do this?” The angst, the misunderstandings, the sit down talk, the fluff

Prompt: 88.If you hate me so much, why are you letting me do this?

Ship: ShigaDabi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Obsession, Possessiveness, Fear Play, somewhat Dubious Consent, Handjobs, Semi-Public Sex, Yandere Shigaraki

Called Shigaraki gross when they first met each other. That was clearly not a strong enough word for him. Clearly should have found something more severe because the boss is not just kind of gross, his nails biting bloody tracks into his neck and always wearing real severed human hands on his body, but also unhinged. Knew he was obsessive from the very first meeting because Shigaraki was laser-focused on destroying All Might. And okay, yeah, judging him for that may be a pot calling the kettle black kind of situation given his own goals, but he also isn't broadcasting his revenge plot to everyone. He also very quickly gets the impression that Shigaraki has never been told 'no'. All For One clearly wants Shigaraki to feel entitled, will let him take whatever he wants and give him as much support and as many chances as he needs, so long as Shigaraki takes whatever he's after with his own quirk-deadly hands. 

Dabi doesn't know what to do with the fact that Shigaraki has decided that he wants him. Didn't even notice that's what was happening at first because he was more focused on making sure that he would be able to get what he needed out of this arrangement so long as he can avoid being stabbed or otherwise mutilated by the more unhinged of his new allies, their overt psychosis more notable than Shigaraki's growing obsession with him. 

///

First sign should have probably been, "Dabi, you'll be squad leader for the job." 

Blinked because he had been only half paying attention once he heard that they were going after his brother's class. Again. "Okay."

"You'll be working with me on planning the mission." And Shigaraki moved on then. Dabi did too. Wasn't exactly looking forward to spending more time one-on-one with the boss, but at least he would be in charge of this job. Would be able to skew things so hopefully he wouldn't have a run-in with his brother. 

///

Second sign should have definitely been Shigaraki pulling him out of conversation any time he got in one with Muscular. Hadn't really noticed that one either because he doesn't like Muscular and one hundred percent of the time when he was talking to that guy he would rather not be. Especially since Muscular had definitely overheard him talking to Magne about sucking dick and had decided that Dabi would be great stress relief if he could figure out the right combination of words to get him on his knees. Which Muscular isn't ever going to do because the asshole is vile and Dabi is absolutely positive he'd have some homophobic slurs to level at him once he's finished. 

But he does notice  when every time Muscular is trying to chat him up their boss pulls him away for some reason or another. Happens four times before he says something. 

"Dabi, I have the new schedule," Shigaraki says rather than anything else when he interrupts this time. Dabi finishes his drink and sets the glass back on the bar, Muscular looking incensed but not saying anything.

"Duty calls." He gives a lazy wave and follows their boss from the bar and up into his room. Waits until the door is closed behind him and Shigaraki is going to retrieve the file from his desk before he says, "Did I look like a deer in headlights or do you just like cockblocking Muscular?" 

Shigaraki stills. Has the hand over his face and at this angle he can't see his eyes either. Makes it really hard to tell what he might be thinking. Doesn't answer him immediately. 

Dabi shrugs. "Whatever, thanks for the save, Duster." Kind of hates that he is genuinely grateful for the interruptions. "Seems like the type to be a douchebag after getting rejected, at least this way I don't have to and risk losing one of our brawlers before the job." 

"You wouldn't sleep with him?" A thin thread of curiosity in Shigaraki's tone as he grabs the file and turns back to face him. 

Dabi snorts. "Fuck no. Guy's a prick." 

Doesn't expect to find Shigaraki's eyes so intensely focused on him. Always knew that the boss had an intense stare, but he hasn't had it settled so completely on him like this since that first meeting and even then it was softened by the fact that there were other people around. He does his best to look uninterested and reaches to take the file, but when his fingers close around it, Shigaraki doesn't let go. Stuck in limbo for a few seconds trying to figure out what to say when the other man finally speaks. 

"Good, he's not worthy of your time." 

And the words settle strangely in him. Not sure what to say at that. Not sure what to do with that intense look. Feels a little out of his depths. "...Right." Shigaraki finally lets go of the file and Dabi takes it. Waits, but his boss doesn't say anything else. "See you later." Is planning on taking the file back to his room to read through it himself. Duster doesn't stop him, but his gaze never wavers and his skin is prickling with his nerves when he has to turn his back to the other man to leave. Still feels like he's being watched even when he's back in the privacy of his own room. 

But by the next day he's shaken the weirdness of that encounter. Shouldn't have let himself do that. 

///

Third sign wasn't so much a sign as it was a blatant declaration of crazy and Dabi should have really, really run for the hills. 

"We need someone else doing crowd control." He tells Shigaraki. He's sitting at the desk, Duster on his bed, map of the training camp laid out across the duvet. Is planning on keeping people as separated as possible and fucking up visibility by lighting most of the forest on fire, but some of these kids are fireproof and some definitely have quirks that will help to put out the fires. Needs someone to help him keep them from grouping up like they did during the USJ attack. 

"You sound like you have something in mind." 

"I know a guy." Not quite asking for permission, doesn't want to lower himself to that, but he does kind of need to get approval before he invites Simon here.

"What does he do?" 

"Paralysis quirk. He says 'stop' and anyone who can hear his voice does. Can also selectively release people by instructing them to go." 

Shigaraki makes a considering sound in the back of his throat. Can't see his expression behind the mask but his eyes are intense again. "Fine." 

And that's that. He gives Simon a call and makes the offer for the job. The other villain agrees, will be by the bar to get an official introduction in the next few days. 

Simon will be a good person to have on the job. Will be able to get any brats that are still running around despite the flames, should even be able to lock down the Pros. Is already wondering if they can get some portable speakers to carry around so that he can increase his range. But he's also thinking about getting the other man into his bed. Hasn't gotten laid since he joined up with the League and he's getting a little desperate. Not to mention that Simon's quirk can be fun in the bedroom too. Not sure why he likes being helpless in bed, but it's definitely fun and he can always set the other man on fire if he does something to his paralyzed body that he doesn't like, though that hasn't ever been something he's had to worry about with Simon yet. 

Three days come and go and on the fourth the navy blue haired villain shows up. Thin as a rail, a few inches taller than him, new neck tat, nose with a bump from being broken and reset poorly, and a narrow mean face. Probably wouldn't surprise any of the others they'd met at a body modification parlor. But Simon is a pleasant enough guy, introduces himself to the rest of the League, gives a demonstration of his abilities when Shigaraki asks, and when the boss is satisfied, he's officially signed on for the job. They catch him up to speed and when the meeting is over Dabi breaks off with him. 

Simon is also apparently eager to have someone who wants his quirk in bed, so they bail on drinks with other League members and head up to his room. It's a decent fuck, always is, the helplessness of the paralysis does something for him, but it always feels like there's a little something missing. Still, he's not complaining. Really, really not complaining because Simon knows him well enough to know not to be clingy afterwards. Releases his quirk as they catch their breath and once they have he stands and dresses before heading to the door as Dabi digs out his pack of cigs. 

Things are fine for all of two days after that. And then the League is drinking, their base is a bar, and Simon clocks Muscular trying to get into his space again and he isn't as subtle as Duster is. Comes over and reaches around Dabi to take his glass for himself and finishes the drink before twisting to kiss him. And they're not an item but he would much, much rather Muscular think they are than have him keep this shit up. Simon knows that too, tells him with that kiss that he's happy to just hook up until this job is done and run interference. 

Muscular sneers at the pair of them and leaves not long after that. Toga, Magne, and Twice head out too, not sure what they're going to get up to, but he's guessing that it will be interesting. And that's really the floodgates for the others splitting. Shigaraki must be thinking about the job again or something because he's scratching bloody lines in his neck and not paying much attention to anything, so Spinner leaves as he's promptly ignored. Compress is responsible so he goes too as it starts to get closer to being early instead of late anymore. Simon starts to stand too, but Dabi catches him with a finger in his belt loops and pulls him close for another kiss. Doesn't take more coaxing than that to get him to follow him upstairs. 

Are kind of struggling to actually make it to his bedroom because they're a little preoccupied trying to devour each other on the way there. Is pressed up against the wall, his fingers tangled in the other man's hair, gasping against his mouth as his thigh presses up between his legs and gets pressure on his steadily hardening cock, when Simon suddenly goes rigid. Dabi also freezes, eyes opening. Sees four fingers wrapped around the back of the other man's neck. Neither of them have a chance to say anything before the fifth finger drops. Dabi yelps, ice drenching his veins as Simon's skin goes gray, cracks racing along his body. Shigaraki holds on until his whole form is gray and cracked and then he squeezes. The added pressure shatters his body, sending a cascade of dust onto the floor of the hallway. Leaves him staring at the space Simon just was, staring now into Shigaraki's furious blood red eyes. 

Doesn't even have a chance to say anything before that deadly hand is on him now. His temperature spikes sharply as four fingers press into his cheeks and under his jaw, middle finger raised for the moment, pressing tight enough that his staples hurt. His heart pounds, doesn't know if he could burn the other man before he could drop his finger. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Shigaraki?" It's kind of a miracle that his voice doesn't shake. Fuck. Knew the boss was a moody bitch but he's never lashed out at any of them before, always careful not to hurt them if for some reason they stray into his space. 

"Not worth your time, Dabi." Gets a little hotter and the finger drops half an inch in warning. Dabi tries to cap the heat desperately as Shigaraki moves in even closer, until their bodies are almost touching, like how Simon was touching him half a minute ago before Duster killed him. "No one else is, you know that now, don't you?" 

Pretty sure that he's going to straight up die if he disagrees. "Whatever Shig, but he was useful." 

"I'll find someone else for the job, Dabi. You don't need to worry about that. I'll make sure you have everything you need." His thumb shifts to rub over his lower lip, lingering on the texture of the split that runs through it and down his chin. His eyes are so intense on him that Dabi's kind of afraid that his skin is going to catch from the look alone. Swallows hard as he drags his thumb along that seam so slowly, eyes following the movement, strokes over the staples in his chin, and then finally pulls his hand away. Finally takes a step back. Dabi still doesn't think he starts breathing again until after his boss turns and heads down the hall to his own room.

Takes him a minute to manage to push away from the wall. Frowns at the pile of dust that used to be his... friend? Acquaintance. Wonders if he should be more upset that he called him here and got him killed. Wonders if he should feel even worse that he just goes and gets the vacuum out of the hall closet and cleans his remains up and unceremoniously empties him in the dumpster out back. Doesn't need the others to know exactly what happened. If any of them start to get antsy about Shigaraki losing his temper with them as soon as Kurogiri isn't around to deescalate things, then he thinks a few of them will bail. Bad enough that they're going to have to plan around Simon's absence and he was only involved for a few days. The plan falls apart if Compress or Twice leave. 

Not so much a red flag as it is a neon fucking sign that Shigaraki is way more unhinged than he initially thought, but Dabi slaps on some blinders. Needs the League's resources to get to Endeavor. He just won't hook up with anyone at base anymore then. Whatever. Not a big deal. 

///

Things are fine for another week after that. Duster doesn't do anything that off-putting again and Dabi doesn't grapple with how little he cares about how strange his new boss is when they're elbow deep in the planning stages. Definitely does feel like a deliberate thing that the person Shigaraki replaces Simon with is a fucking middle schooler. Made sure not to add anyone to their party who he might be interested in sleeping with. Whatever. Mustard will be able to get the job done and that's all that really matters to him. He moves on.

But he had been looking forward to having a regular hook-up while working with Simon and he's horny enough after a week to decide to go find a different one. Just a nice distraction for the night hopefully. Is planning on just going out and hitting his old haunts until he finds someone. It's reasonably late when he starts to make his way down the hall to the stairs. Is not expecting for Shigaraki's door to open as he passes it.

Not wearing his mask, his expression visible, frowning at him, his nails already biting at his throat. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he drawls lazily, thinks he can be nonchalant because there's a good meter between them. 

Duster's eyes narrow, "Where?" 

"Just out. Getting a drink." 

"We have a bar downstairs." 

"And some air." His skin is starting to prickle a little with heat. Shigaraki hasn't moved but he's feeling... threatened. Duster never grills the others when they come and go. The others get around just fine too when they're away from base, Magne has a long line of heartbroken lovers who would take her back in an instant, Toga is always shopping around for new paramours, not sure why he's garnered such scrutiny from Shigaraki but he is very, very interested in removing it. 

Shigaraki takes a step out of his room and Dabi instinctively takes a step back, which, fuck. Puts him going in the wrong direction. "You wouldn't be leaving," takes another step, Dabi forces himself to stay still this time. "Because you're looking to give your attention," moves right up to him, barely six inches apart. "To someone unworthy of it, would you, Dabi?" 

His mouth is dry, doesn't know if he's ever heard that low threatening tone from Shigaraki before. His hands are still at his sides, but this close, it wouldn't take much to have five fingers on him. "Why does that matter to you, Shigaraki? I get to decide who's worthy of my time, not you." 

Duster's head cocks ever so slightly to the side. "No." What the fuck? Goes on before he can respond to that little declaration. "You don't need to leave anyway," reaches for him then and Dabi lights up his hand. Shigaraki stops, looking at the flame. Does not look nearly worried enough, but the hand that had been reaching to hook around his waist pauses. "I told you that I would make sure you have everything you need." 

"What I need, is for you to stop being a creep, Shigaraki." He keeps the flames dancing along his palm and forearm as he steps around the other man, making sure to stay out of his reach. "You may be my boss, but you don't own me." Is definitely going for that drink and also absolutely getting the fuck out of here for a few days. until Shigaraki figures out what the fuck boundaries are. 

Is really not expecting the other man to completely ignore his burning hand, his smoking skin, and close in on him anyway. has a split second where he really thinks he's going to have to burn the other man to stop him from killing him. But when Shig reaches for him, he can see his middle finger is already pulled farther back than the others, knows that if he kills Duster that AFO will have him hunted to the ends of the earth--

Lets Shigaraki get his hands on him again. one knotting in his shirt and yanking him forward and the other curling around his throat. Dabi's sure that the other man feels his pulse jump sharply against his palm as he feels four nails biting into his skin. "I want to own you. I want you to be mine." Duster takes a step forward, pushing Dabi back up against the wall, and then he keeps moving, until they're so close that he can feel how much cooler the other man's body is compared to his own and he can feel his breath against his lips. Not wearing his mask, can see how intense, and hungry, and sincere his expression is. "No one else is worthy of having your submission and I'll give you all of the attention you want, Dabi. Just have to behave." 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Shigaraki?" There's a choked edge of fear in him now. Wants to get his hand from around his throat. 

"You don't need to leave to find someone to take care of you tonight, firefly. Never have to go looking for that again. Never going to have any hand on you like this but mine again." 

Sends a shiver down Dabi's spine as Duster leans in, mouth hovering a hair's breadth from his own. "The crush is cute and all, boss, but what if I'm not interested?" Sees Shigaraki's eyes narrow slightly. Sure no one has ever told him 'no' before. Wonders if he's about to die. Keeps running his mouth because he's kind of hoping he figures out a way of extracting himself from this situation before it gets anymore out of hand. "Can barely tolerate you. Tried to kill you a few weeks ago." 

"That's okay, I know you won't do that again, Dabi." Eyes settling on his lips, head tilting slightly as he starts to close that tiny space. Dabi presses his hands against Shigaraki's chest, heating his palms in warning, hot enough that the fabric of his shirt starts to smoke slightly. 

"Wanna bet?" 

"No gamble. If you really didn't know this is what's best for you, you would have already stopped me by now." Hates how sure Shigaraki sounds. "I'll prove it." And the hand around his waist lets go, four fingers against the wall. Dabi's breath hitches as the one around his throat tightens for a second before that one moves to settle on the wall by his head too. Still caged in, but not in as immediate danger as before. Shigaraki presses a little closer, until his hands pressed against the other man's chest are the only barrier between them. "See?" 

Doesn't have a chance to retort before Duster is finished waiting, Closes the tiny space between their lips. Kisses him hard, possessive, the texture of his scar and the strange cracks across his skin a distracting sensation. Pulls his focus for a second from the sharp tangled pulse of something that sparks through his veins and makes heat rush through him. Notably doesn't light Shigaraki on fire, which he should really, really be doing. 

Breaks the kiss, twisting his face away as Duster tries to follow him, can't retreat far with the wall at his back. Shigaraki's mouth finds his jaw instead. "Don't want you." His voice thin and thready.

Voice as low as his, but far more certain, "Stop me then." Should. Should light him on fire. Should push him away. Not even touching him. Could do it. Could make him stop. 

His breath catches in the back of his throat when Shigaraki's mouth drags over his neck, teeth nipping at his skin and tongue following to soothe each little ache. His fingers knot into Shigaraki's shirt. "Don't want to be owned." 

"Yes you do, as long as it's me." Needs to bail now. Shigaraki is way more insane than he thought the other man was. Absolutely should not be giving his delusion anything that might be taken as encouragement or he is gonna end up chained up somewhere or dead so that the creep can 'own' him completely. 

"Hate you." He gasps, his body going even hotter as Duster presses a thigh between his, rocks it against his crotch and his dick is definitely starting to pay attention to what's happening. 

"If you hate me so much, why are you letting me do this?" Tries to kiss him again but Dabi shifts his mouth away again. Shig flicks his tongue over the staples closest to his lips instead. "Can hate me all you want, firefly. Can tell yourself, tell me, how much you don't want it. Can pretend that you're not mine in front of the others." Pulls back, just a little, just enough so that Dabi is having to meet certain, smoldering red eyes. "You're still going to be mine anyway." 

"No." Doesn't sound even a fraction as sure as Duster. 

"Yes you are. And you know how I know that?" Leans in so that their noses are brushing. "Because you didn't even flinch when I put my hands back on you." 

His whole body turns into a tight line as he realizes that yeah, Shigaraki moved. Hand curled back around his hip, the other curled around the back of his neck. Realizes abruptly what was missing from his encounters with Simon. That the helplessness wasn't enough because he always knew he could get out. Because he knew when things went further than he wanted, he could make it stop with a few flashes of his quirk. Knows that he won't ever be able to escape Shigaraki if he's so bound and determined to have him. That he can't even pull away here without risking his life. Realizes that he was missing a heady, intoxicating pulse of fear before. 

Closes the scant space between his and Shigaraki's lips, crashes their mouths together again rough enough to reopen the seam of his lip, gasping as the deadly hands on him tighten their grip and Shigaraki meets his reckless desperation with his own. Moans into his mouth as he presses in hard, hand on his hip sliding around to his lower back so that he can pull Dabi in tighter, has his legs spread wide for his thigh and pressing it firmly against his hardening cock. Bad idea, shouldn't be encouraging this. Feels so fucking good when Duster licks his way into his mouth and swallows that desperate sound though. 

His skin goes even hotter when the hand around his neck shifts, tangling in his hair and yanking him back to expose the line of his throat. Shigaraki doesn't waste time, mouth back on his neck, teeth following, bites much harder than before, hard enough that his skin is aching and stinging in the distinct way that he knows means bruises, means that he's bleeding too. Should push him away. Tangles his hands in the back of Duster's shirt instead, keeping him close as he rocks against the solid weight of his thigh. 

"That's it baby, going to make you feel good." 

"Yeah, fucking money where your mouth is, creep." He tries to snap, can't really manage it though when he's so fucking breathless. Four-fingered grip moving over his body, pushing under his shirt to drag over his seams, the other moving to rub his cock through his pants. Fuck. Could kill him in a split second, saw how fast he killed Simon. The pulse of fear in him at the thought has his cock twitching and a little whine catching in the back of his throat as he pulls at the other man's shirt more desperately. Gets his mouth back on his own. Good thing too because he moans way too loudly when Duster pulls his belt loose and starts to make quick work of the clasp of his pants. Fingers pressing in, curling around his cock and stroking readily, his skin cool and dry as it moves over him, still good enough to have him whimpering, trying to hide his face against his shoulder, muffle the sounds coming out of him. They're in the middle of the hall, anyone could walk by, hell, he has no idea how many of the others might already be in their rooms for the night. Absolutely does not want to get caught with Duster's hand down his pants. 

"Don't do that, Dabi," his voice so low and hot in his ear as he strokes him torturously slowly, his other hand crawling up his shirt and twisting at his nipple, pulling at the barbell and making his nerves all sing with the riot of pleasure and fear going through him. "So beautiful, baby. Want to hear all of your pretty sounds." 

"Duster," 

"Want you to use my name," Strokes a little harder, tugging at his piercings just hard enough to get him letting out a thin gasp again. 

"Tomura," Fuck. Should not have given in to that demand so easily. Is going to get himself in a world of trouble if he keeps this up. Is already in more than he ever really expected to get from Shigaraki. Feels like his thoughts are all going to scatter apart when Duster gathers the pre dripping along his length, gets his hand wet with it and starts to stroke him faster. He keens weakly, "Move, room, please?" Really, really doesn't want to get caught. Really should be telling the other man to back off. 

"No, not yet baby, want to see you cum right here." Dabi whines again, face flushing, starting to squirm. Doesn't know if he's trying to get away from the deadly hands or if he's trying to get them moving faster. If he needs this to happen faster so that he can get away from Duster or if he just wants to try and pull away because as he does-- the hands tighten on him, sees his middle fingers drop slightly. Fear pulses sharply through him and has him moaning, hips fucking into Shig's fist before he can stop himself. Sees Shigaraki's eyes go molten as he does. "That's it, Dabi, so pretty, so well-behaved, letting me make you feel good. Not going to let anyone else ever touch you like this again. Going to be mine." 

"D-doesn't feel that good, creep. You-- ah!" Tightens his grip, twists on the upstroke, feels so good that he's seeing stars, head thumping back against the wall. Shigaraki's mouth immediately finds his neck again, worrying at the bruise he's already left. "You don't own me." 

"Not yet." Doesn't like how easily Shigaraki agrees with him as he licks up the blood that's dribbled over his chin from his split lip. definitely some kind of string attached to that agreement. Can't focus on finding it when his temperature is creeping higher and higher, his arousal pulsing beneath his skin and making him breathless. Getting so close. Fuck, hasn't gone racing to his completion like this in so long, usually has more patience, but the tang of fear, fear of getting maimed, fear of getting caught, fear of whatever is going to happen if he feeds into Duster's obsession, is heightening the pleasure. Making him feel a little high, floaty. Tangles a hand in Shigaraki's hair and doesn't really have a chance to make sense of the delighted, satisfied look in those blood red eyes before he's tugging a little. Duster meets his mouth again just as hungrily. 

His thighs are shaking, muscles all going more and more tense, making him whine and whimper into the kiss, kind of glad about how hard Shigaraki is pinning him to the wall because if he wasn't, he doesn't know if he would still be standing at this point. Is going to fall apart. Shig must be able to tell he's getting close, can definitely feel how wet he is as he gets closer, can feel the desperate little twitches of his hips as he fucks messily into his fist. Pulls away to watch him and Dabi flushes, doesn't know why he suddenly wants to hide so badly. Tries to shift again, but Shigaraki catches his chin, holds him hard enough to strain his staples and force him still. 

"Want you to look at me, baby." 

"You're so fucking gross, creep." Doesn't make that intense look waver, doesn't seem to sour it either for the other man. Tugs at his piercings again and Dabi can't smother the moan that it draws out of him, his balls tightening and his skin going so hot that he's starting to trickle smoke from his seams. Close.

"Want you to say my name, Dabi." 

"Not gonna happen." His hand goes faster, brings his pleasure higher, can't stop all the soft sounds that are slipping from his bleeding lips, can't escape that consuming look from the other man. Has never felt so drowned in his pleasure before. Feels his orgasm racing towards him and he tries to bite his tongue, tries not to give in. Knows he shouldn't, knows it's a bad idea, knows that he is absolutely completely and utterly fucked when his orgasm crashes through him and he can't stop himself from gasping, "Tomura," as he spills all over the other's hand and inside of his pants. 

Duster's mouth seals over his again then, doesn't seem to be bothered with the fact that Dabi is gasping and panting for breath and can't really focus, can't really kiss back with any kind of coordination. takes him a second to realize that Shigaraki is breathing out little praises between the biting kisses, "That's it, so beautiful, such a good boy," 

Is still a little dazed when he twists his face away from him like he had at the beginning. "Still not yours." 

"I know, sweetheart." Mouth against his jaw again, voice low and drenched with his own satisfaction. "But you will be soon. Just have to come to my room and let me keep making you feel good, Dabi." 

"Can't make me fuck you, Duster." Could try, really would burn him alive, damn the consequences.

"I know that, firefly. Don't need to force you. You're going to come with me because you want to. Because you know that no one else is worthy of your attention. Because you want to be mine." Can't help the little shiver as he murmurs the words against the shell of his ear. Doesn't know when his hand went from in his hair to around his neck, but he should really, really be trying to extract himself from this situation. Should absolutely not be tightening his hold, twisting so that their noses brush and they're sharing breaths as he murmurs, 

"I hate you." 

"Can keep saying that as long as you want, Dabi. Will only make it better when you admit the truth." Resolves then and there that he never will. Can be more stubborn than Shigaraki knows.

More reckless than he ever thought he was when he presses in for another kiss, this one much slower but no less hot. "Okay, better impress me, Duster, or I'll go looking somewhere else." 

Sees his eyes spark, probably says something extremely fucked about his head that his whole body goes a little hotter when he realizes that Shigaraki will kill anyone who ever touches him again. "Come on, firefly, going to show you. Take care of you. Going to love being mine." 

Doesn't know if he will. Knows that this is absolutely more than he bargained for when he joined up with the League. Really, really should be putting a stop to this. Never done what he's supposed to before. Lets Duster corral him back toward his room, hands wandering again and pressing kisses to his skin. Shigaraki is absolutely unhinged. 

Good thing he kind of likes them crazy.

Thanks for the submission!

[icingsweet]

wc: works with percy!

CAT, 28, GMT;  SHE/THEY. | if you’re hearing ANTAGONIST by NOVA TWINS playing, you have to know ERIN WILLIAMS  (THEY/HE; ENBY) is near by! the 25 year old BARTENDER has been in denver for, like, 5 YEARS. they’re known to be quite CYNICAL, but being RELENTLESS seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble QUINTESSA SWINDELL. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WEARING SUNGLASSES INSIDE, HEADPHONES ON, PATCHES AND PINS, and UNANSWERED TEXTS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough! 

BASICS:

NAME: erin williams.

NIKNAMES: will accept rin.

AGE: twenty-five.

BIRTHDAY: february 10th.

ETHNICITY: african-american and white. 

GENDER AND PRONOUNS: non-binary, they/he. 

SEXUALITY: pansexual.

OCCUPATION: bartender.

CONNECTIONS:

banks - roomie, before and after incarceration.

unnamed third roomie - wanted connection!

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

unnamed third roomie

friend (erin doesn't make friends easily!)

ex-friends with benefits

enemies

PHYSICAL:

HAIR COLOUR: brown.

EYE COLOUR: brown.

HEIGHT: 5 foot 3 inches.

PIERCINGS: septum piercing. 

TATTOOS: little pieces around their body until they can afford a big piece. 

SCARS: hands, noticeable the palm side on their right hand. 

BIOGRAPHY:

tw: fighting / glass injuries. 

It’s always been him looking out for himself. Life for Erin growing up was group homes and residential child care before they aged out of the system, having no connections and no supportive networks they learned from an early age that they had to be ​self-sufficient because there wasn’t any other choice. 

Before ending up in Colorado, but by no means settling, they moved around from grubby motel to grubby motel trying to survive on the scraps their minimum wage jobs gave them. Even though Denver offers another dead-end job they now have a small apartment with two roommates - that’s the first time they’ve had an ounce of support so it was worth sticking around.

While Banks was always a live wire there was more to him than that. Once you got passed the tough exterior he was goofy and protective — it was the first time somebody was protective over Erin it was the latter in combination with his temper which was dangerous. Late one night the two were headed home from a club when somebody couldn’t hold their mouth, and like a natural reflex Erin always gave as good as they got, until the other swung an empty bottle they tried to stop with their hand. All they remember is blood and the look on Banks' face. 

While Erin has a million conflicting thoughts about him being arrested, it boils down to how guilty they feel for not de-escalating the situation and as a result Erin tries to keep their anger in check. Even years later they still have trouble with their hand as a muscle the glass cut never healed back to normal, the scar tissue makes it difficult to stretch their hand and it’s noticeably weaker than the other. While their hands are generally littered with scars from previous jobs, mostly burn marks from being a barista, the ones on their palms are the most notable. 

OTHER:

Making friends is hard for them. If it’s not them being mentally and physically tired out after a long day or a resting bitch face, it’s their distrust for people and people’s intentions. They’ve met significantly more bad people than good. And if they’re good, what are they getting out of it and what do they want? It’s unrealistic to Erin. 

While Erin is known for being grumpy and irritated, it stems from their depression. They struggle to find enjoyment between work and bills, they constantly wonder why they’re unwanted, they feel guilty, and they have no interest in doing things outside of work as their hand injury stopped them from playing the one thing they enjoyed - their guitar. 

Erin would like to work with charities that offer assistance to those transitioning out of foster care, but that alongside singing is another pipe dream, as they envision their life struggling to pay rent forever more. 

[digital-dhampirs]

thank you very much for the ask, @kachowwwww !

I did do a covernalysis for Vol 3, which you can read here: [https://digital-dhampirs.tumblr.com/post/168641851375/here-it-is-the-beautiful-twosome-vanitas-no ], but after staring at the cover of the volume for a little while I’ve started to notice some stuff I didn’t see way back in my original post from 2017. So! I will be doing an all new (hopefully improved) covernalysis four years later! oh by the holy glow of the blue moon it’s been four years

this is technically a part 2, but it’s completely separate from the first part! feel free to just read one or the other..!

VnC Volume 3 covernalysis: part 2

Volume 3 is our first cover featuring multiple characters together, and boy is it a fantastic way to start the trend! Vanitas and Noé lie peacefully in a pool of water, a golden frame between them. There is a Lot going on here, so let’s get started with breaking down the frame!

Volume 3’s golden frame is absolutely dripping in Chasseur imagery— the frame is decorated with stacks of skulls similar to those in the catacombs, the design in the frame’s corners is just like the Chasseurs’ six- winged sword symbol, and at the top of the frame we see the high- ranking vampire skull Roland shows our protagonists in chapter 14. Vol 3 contains chapters 11 through 15 of the manga— the time leading up to and the beginning of Vanitas and Noé’s adventures in the catacombs— so these Chasseur designs seem very relevant. We see one of those ever- present butterflies perched on the dead vampire’s skull, a symbol of transformation and rebirth.

We also see daisies growing in one section of the frame, possibly symbolizing innocence, purity, rebirth, fidelity, and/ or new beginnings. Maybe these daisies symbolize the new developments for Vanitas and Noé’s relationship during and after the events in the catacombs? Or maybe they’re a callback to an old Celtic myth in which daisies grew to console parents after the loss of a child? Or maybe something else!

The other plant featured on this frame is ivy— a symbol of attachment, immortality, fidelity, and eternity. Both daisies and ivy have something to do with eternal life and eternal faithfulness, which is very interesting considering Vanitas’s eventual demise. Ivy is a plant that holds on to things and doesn’t let go, which is pretty neat considering the events of chapter 53..!

There’s one last part of the volume 3 frame I want to mention before moving on to the rest of the cover— the skeletal hands adorning it. Two of the hands are holding the inside edges of the frame, reminiscent of the hands on Vanitas’s frame in volume 1, and two more are holding the vampire skull in a manner eerily similar to the way the Teacher’s hands frame Noé’s face on the cover of Volume 2.

The volume 3 frame has a lot of lil details combining aspects of Vanitas and Noé’s frames from the two previous volumes— the rectangular shape of Vani’s frame with the skull at the top, the row of beads and stick bone decoration thingys (if anyone knows what those things are please tell me I’ve been wondering what they are for literal years at this point) from Noé’s frame, the skeleton hands from volume 1 in the Teacher’s position from volume 2… the Volume 3 frame might have a lot of chasseur elements, but it’s also a combination of Vanitas and Noé’s symbolic details, once again indicating the pair’s developing relationship.

And with that I think we’re finally done with the frame! Now it’s time to tackle the main subject of this ask, the boys themselves.

Vanitas, smirking, shows his mark from Luna to the viewer. The Book of Vanitas rests on his stomach, and he has two more marks of possession on display— Jeanne’s mark, which is bright red, and a duller purple mark on the other side of his neck. We don’t know who this third mark is from yet, but just based on the mark’s color palette it seems pretty likely it’s from Noé. Unlike the marks from Luna and Jeanne, though, the purple mark isn’t leaking out onto Vanitas’s clothes— it’s just there, like a bruise, and the only place its color is really echoed is on the Book. I don’t really know what this means and I suspect we won’t find out until Noé drinks Vanitas’s blood in uhm… chapter… 105… but it’s a notable difference nonetheless!

Moving from Vanitas to his partner in crime! Noé is lying above Vanitas, with the chain from the Book of Vanitas wrapped around his arm. He’s wearing the comfortable sleep clothes he wore in chapter 11 and seems to be calmly watching Vani as the latter shows off his mark from Luna. Noé’s right hand is resting on the Book of Vanitas’s chain, but he isn’t trying to remove it or snap it, he’s just touching it.

The chain around Noé’s arm reminds me quite a bit of another piece of official art,

But on the Volume 3 cover, the chain around Noé’s arm is Noé’s classic purple-magenta color, rather than Vanitas’s cobalt blue like it is in the official art. This difference in color (along with the drastically different poses between the cover and the official art) makes the official art look far more aggressive and confrontational, while the cover image looks much more peaceful and relaxed despite the chain.

The chain’s color on the Vol 3 cover makes me think that, unlike in the official art, Noé is in control of what’s going on and is choosing to keep things this way. He could get rid of the chain at any time, but keeps it wrapped around his arm. In a way, it’s tying him and Vanitas together rather than dragging them apart.

So we’ve covered the frame, we’ve talked about our protagonists… all that’s left to talk about from this cover is the background/ whatever’s going on with the water Noé and Vani are lying in! And honestly? This is another one of those things I have no ideas about. Water symbolizes a lot of things— life, purity, the moon, transformation, and a whole lot more. But I don’t quite know why Vanitas and Noé are lying in it beyond ‘it looks very pretty’.

One thing I do know for sure, though, is that there are shards of glass lying in the water with the boys. Where might those shards have come from…? My best guess is that the frame between Vani and Noé was originally a complete mirror or picture frame made out of glass, but at some point it was shattered, and now the boys are able to lie down side by side between it.

The internal walls separating Noé and Vanitas start to crumble with their argument during the ball and conversation on the roof, and fall apart a bit more during their time in the catacombs. It’ll still be a very very long time before they can even approach the idea of fully understanding each other, but at this point in the manga they’re slowly getting closer and learning to walk side by side.

Annnnnd with that, I think this covernalysis is complete! For now. Thank you so much for reading this ridiculously wordy covernalysis, and thanks again for this ask! Thinking over a cover again four years after my initial analysis was a truly unique experience— maybe in 2025 I’ll come back to this cover one more time and cringe at this analysis the same way I’m currently cringing over my 2017 cover breakdown. Hope you enjoyed this meta/ analysis/ confused rambling thing!

Fun Fact

This volume’s inside cover features the lovely Dominique! Domi doesn’t feature too heavily in this volume, but she plays a major role in Chapter 12, and we learn a lot about her true feelings for Noé during the chapters she’s in. The color scheme of this inside cover is particularly notable when compared with the vibrant yellow and magenta of Domi’s volume 8 cover— Domi isn’t exactly colorless here, but she’s definitely quite desaturated compared to her volume 8 appearance. The magenta color reflecting on her hair and bow actually seems quite close to.. that… faded………. purple….

[mikuyuuss]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Character Design: of Giyuu Tomioka, Thoughts and Breakdown

This post in a nutshell is gonna be me talking about why Giyuu's Character design deserves more love! I expected my previous post to have like, zero notes, so I’m already happy that at least a couple of people appreciated it! :) I wanted to talk more and critique about the character designs of other characters, but I’m not sure if I can cover for all them, because I’m sure there’s cultural context to their designs that I’m not fully aware of, due to my lack of knowledge about the Japanese culture during Taisho era, nonetheless Giyuu is my favorite character so of course, I have to dedicate a post just for him! So once again, I’m going to make an honest critique about his character design from a visual standpoint, as well as my own personal opinions about it!

Giyuu

-He’s got that classic samurai elegance, even if I don't read demon slayer I would already know what kind of a character he would be, strong, silent, mysterious, and responsible.

-I found his design to be really nostalgic tbh, reminds you of the 90s anime boy with spiky hair, kinda like Kenshin Himura. I think that's the selling point of his character design and why many ppl, including myself are immediately drawn to him.

-bc that's also an important part in making a memorable design, basing it on popular tropes that people already know, and creating something new out of it. For Giyuu is his shounen samurai spiky hair is iconic!(being conventionally handsome also helps)

-Though I still prefer his hair in the manga because it looks fluffier!

-His base uniform has little to no customization which shows his practical and straightforward nature, plain, as you can say, which suits his character. I still prefer his look in the manga though, because of the blue highlights on his sleeve, which signifies his water breathing.

-I also love how you just have one look at him, and you can pretty much tell that blue is HIS color. From his stance to his calm gaze, everything about him reminds me of water, and later, when I learned he is the water pillar, I wasn’t surprised because it just felt right. It shows how his design did a good job in conveying his character through very subtle visuals alone. There’s actually so little blue to his design, yet it’s noticable as accents with the combination of other complimentary colors. The most notable is his deep blue eyes, which well, reminds us of the deep sea. (I'm just weak for black hair blue eyes combo ok)

-With the consistent theme of blue accents on his design, what notable stands out about his design, is of course his iconic haori! That haori alone is easily a 12/10, an asymmetric fashion icon. It’s so iconic that I would see it someone wear it every once in awhile during school.

-What makes the haori so iconic, aside from that fashionable asymmetry, specifically, is that it clashes with his plain uniform, (in a good way!) in short his haori doesn’t suit his personality at all.

-Like why would a guy who's been establish as simple and practical would suddenly be wearing such a colorful haori? "Surely there must be some backstory to it."

This is what makes for a good visual storytelling, as we later learned that his haori didn’t belong to him in the first place. The fact that the design of the two halves are already clashing represents the two individuals that are most important to his life, Sabito and Tsutako. 

-The colors of his haori are clashing, but in a good way because of the use of complimentary color scheme, red and green, where the greens are used in small doses, and are balanced by analogous colors such as yellows and orange. Gotouge seems to be really good with their use of colors in general.

-There’s  just something very “moe” about his leg wraps idk, it looks so unfashionable on him, but like, in a good way. I can’t help but find it cute how thick it is. I guess this explains why the jp fandom (and also me) really adores him for his “gap moe” qualities. We got this fairly cool looking design and then suddenly, we get to those leg wraps that are just so awkward, just like he is.

-Jokes aside, it’s an obvious visual to his connection to Tanjiro, given how they have the same leg wraps, and possibly by extension, their connection to Urokodaki. I like to think that Urokodaki gave it to them. (that would be cute)

-Some of my own complaints though, will be that, I kind of wished he had a more interesting sword design. I don’t know if it’s just a case of standard-first-character syndrome, but it’s way too plain for my liking, which is a shame because I love seeing the variety of interesting sword designs of the characters.

-Also I wish the anime kept the other blue highlights to his sleeves and his blue hair tips. (though maybe that would make his blue accents too obvious, BUT STILL) I also wish they kept his mask too. 

Overall, Giyuu has a simple yet iconic design. It might not be up to everyone’s taste, but it is a good design nonetheless, an 8/10 for me. I kind of wanted to make this post for awhile, because I simple wanna talk about why I really appreciate his design. I’ve seen some who say Giyuu’s design is terrible because its too simple, and while it is true where there are cases when a character is under or over designed, a simple design =/= bad design. With Giyuu, it’s clear that a lot of thought was put into making his character design, and which is why I will always have a soft spot for it.

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void Ch4

I DID AS I SAID I WOULD.

@petrichormeraki

Chapter 1

The Chapter Before

The Next Chapter

Crossposted on AO3

Full fic bellow! content warning for trauma, relating to  the Festival.

By the time they had managed to leave Looky Looky at My Cookie, being around the two teens felt like a hurricane. When Stress managed to convince the two to get something to eat- not that cookies and cake were exactly a healthy breakfast- that certainly hadn’t slowed them down from bouncing off the walls.

Though wary at first, Tommy couldn’t get himself to turn down free goods, without even being accused of stealing. While Grian had been digging through an enderchest, finding payment for the goods, Tommy and pulled Tubbo along to gawk at the builds.

“I don’t fucking get it! Why don’t you guys just, steal shit? I don’t see anyone here to stop that! Or- what’s stopping someone from griefing?” Tommy turned, eyes narrowed on the short brunette woman.

Stress merely tilted her head, brows knitted together in confusion. “We’re a whitelist server, Love! Of course none of us would steal. We’re on a mooshroom island, so we don’t have any worries about any creepers or the like, either.” She had explained, much to the boy’s frustration.

“Yeah, but if someone wanted to, they could just fuckin’ come here and steal! I mean, why would anyone care? Or how would you even notice, you all seem loaded.” He scoffed in frustration.

Tubbo, at his side, laughed. “That’s the coolest part, Tommy! They don’t worry about that! That’s why, like, they’re so cool! No one disrupts eachother or steals, so people can just..Work, and do crazy shit!” They gawked, clapping their hands as they bounced in place.

“I’ve always meant to go back and explore one of the replica worlds you guys put out. The fact that after you’re all finished, you just- put out the code? So others can make replicas of just- such intimate places? And experience it and walk through it? That’s so cool.” Tubbo finally stopped, having nearly ran out of breath.

That earned a flustered laugh out of Stress, nodding along. “Oh, I agree. I only got to join the Hermits two worlds back, on Hermitcraft Five! Me and Zedaph- oh, is he a something- were the new Hermits up until Grian finally joined us, last world.” 

“New Hermit is definitely a heavy torch to carry,” Grian would chirp in, emerging from the shop. “Gotta commit as much chaos as physically possible. Make a good name for yourself.” The brit finished with a wolfish grin, unruly bangs falling past grey, almost purple eyes that glanced between the teens.

“He’s got a point,” Stress snorted, nodding. “If you’re ever bored during your stay, no Hermit are short on stories. Anywho, Grian, you got the spending diamonds for the two?” She turned towards the man- not even a hair taller than herself.

“Yep, of course. Here you two go, I don’t have all my diamonds on me, but this should help cover just about whatever you need.” Pulling out the diamond icon from his tablet, he dropped a numbered amount to both, being deposited into their system. “W- what!” Tubbo exclaimed, pulling out a diamond from their system. “Surely not. Is my tablet reading this right? A stack of diamonds?” They gawked, clutching onto the jewel.

Tommy merely screeched, pressing his tablet against his chest. “Holy fucking SHIT-”

“Jeez does this feel like a language moment-” another voice chimed.

The boy went rigid. Tommy’s head snapping in the direction, as Tubbo nearly jumped out of their skin in surprise. Stood by an igloo- out of place in the clashing mycelium-grass island- was an equally odd man.

Platinum white hair held back(mostly) by a well-worn black headband, a silver plate on the front reading off NHO. A faded, dull green- littered with patches, pins, and buttons- and most unnerving, a black mask covering most of their face. And- most notably- was the pair of slick, glistening snowy owl wings sprawled behind them.

The white-haired figure paused, shifting their weight awkwardly. “Uh, hi.” The guy gave a small wave, expression unreadable past mismatched black-and-red eyes. The man’s hair barely even allowed for those to be viewable- aiding in his masquerade, made the combination of mask-and-bangs shield most of the visible emotion from the newcomers.

“Hey, Etho!” Grian chirped, pleasantly pleased by the appearance of the shady figure. For some reason that Tommy, yet again, doesn’t quite understand, Tubbo gasps.

“Holy- you’re Etho? Like, Ethos Lab?  Oh, oh Void, I spent so much time watching so many of your old redstone videos! It’s what got me so interested in it!” They grinned. 

Oh Prime, who doesn’t this place have? Tommy scoffed at the thought, eyes narrowing on the figure. What’s with the scary mask people always being the ones getting popular, and shit- 

“Oh, thanks. Always happy to hear, there’s always a use for more redstone users. Uh, looks like you got a bit of a tour going on?” The man- Etho, turned towards Grian and Stress. 

“Yep! We wanted to check in on them, I know you heard from the announcement the run down.” Stress grinned, glancing towards the teens. “These two are Tommy and Tubbo. Glad to see you have some idea about Etho, already. He’s always bound to be around somewhere.” 

Tommy scoffed, eyeing the man, a few inches shy of his own height. “Hi, and shit.” He sniffed, crossing his arms.

Etho shuffled in place, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Language, by the way.” He sheepishly huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Welcome, for however long you guys stay. ..And if I may recommend, make sure you head down to Shade-E E’s. Quick profits all around.” He added, pointing with his thumb behind him, towards the dark mansion.

The blond kid raised a brow, tilting his head.  Prime, what is up with this guy.  “Excuse me?” Tommy scoffed.

Grian groaned, rolling his eyes. “Etho. Please. The amount of glass i’ve picked up coming out of the District portal.” He glared pointedly towards the man.

“Mhmm..I don’t see what there is to be so upset over. I think I'm providing a very generous service, to our server.” He snickered, quirking an eyebrow.

Pointedly sending a scolding glare towards Etho, Stress turned towards the two teens. “C’mon, now. Mind that Mr. Ice Queen, now.” She huffed, fondness seeping into her voice.

“I know when I’m unwanted,” Etho chuckled, holding up gloved hands in mock-defense. See you two ‘round. You too, Tubbo, Tommy.” He’d nod towards each person as he named them, before a rocket was summoned to his hand. And, he was off with a trail of smoke.

At the poof and small bang from the minor explosive was all it took for an incident to form. Tubbo cringed, visibly flinching before they curled in on themself, ducking their head down as their arms clung around their head, their ears covered.

Tommy, on the otherhand, nearly jumped a foot in the air before throwing himself on Tubbo.  The two went tumbling to the ground with a huff. 

The two Hermits shot up, turning towards the teens. “Oh Gord, hey, it’s okay, those were just flight duration rockets! They can’t do a thing. Etho’s gone, now.” Grian dropped down next to them, brows pinched in concern. 

“We promise, it’s alright! We all use rockets like that. It’s alright, see? Everything’s fine. No hermit would do a thing to purposefully scare you, like that.” Stress chirped in, her heart sinking at the thought of two kids being so terrified at a simple firework.

Tommy pulled his head away from the crook of Tubbo’s neck, glaring harshly at the adults. Distrust was obvious in his blue eyes, before he untangled himself, pulling up Tubbo with him. “Why the fuck would he need fireworks? He had fucking wings.”

The Hermits exchanged a gaze for a moment, before Grian held up his hands pacifyingly. “That was just an elytra. They take the form most fitting for the wearer, at the moment. Stress marked him the Ice Queen of the season, since he owns that Ice shop,” He’d point with his thumb behind him, at a snowy igloo with an Ice sign above it. “So, he had snow-themed wings. Last world, my Elytra wings were small and white feathers. Rockets boost them, since Elytras can only glide.” Grian explained patiently.

“..Right. Sorry- I- Uh. I didn’t realize he had an Elytra.. S-Should’ve expected the rocket, if I knew.” Tubbo sheepishly laughed it off, their head dipped down.

The correlation between the splattered, sparked burn scars scattered across their face, and their reaction, wasn’t lost on the Hermits. 

There was a brief silence between the four, the blond boy’s arm wrapped tightly around the other teen’s.

“So- what are your wings, now?” Tubbo eventually asked, breaking the tense pause.

Grian made a noise of understanding. “Ah, yeah, I have parrots wings, now! Scarlet Macaw. Red’s the primary color. They’re a good bit bigger than last season’s elytra, since that one was chicken based.”

“Chicken based?” Tommy scoffed, cocking an eyebrow as he eyed the short, young-looking man.

“Yes, that was his whole thing. The Hermits still tease him for it. Mine are floral-based and skeletal, when I wear them.” Stress chirped, her tone warm. With a swipe of her holographic tablet, wings were equipped to her back. 

Indeed, they were as described. A frame of skeletal bones, a light, magenta glistening aura surrounding them. Moss, and large flowers clung to the wings. How exactly she flew with them was beyond anything Tommy knew- or was willing to take the time to understand.

“We won’t be using them, since- you two don’t have any. But it is about time we discuss what your plans are. Has your server’s admin sent any updates?” Grian switched subjects, glancing between the teens.

A tense energy still surrounded them, as Tubbo fidgetted and gripped onto the fabric at the bottom of their shirt.

“No,” Tommy scoffed, pulling his Communicator into his free hand. “The bastard hasn’t said a word.” The boy practically growled out the words, in frustration. 

“Alright,” Grian said easily. “Then we figure out what you two want to do.”

“There’s a lot of spare builds. Keralis, real close to here, has a whole big city. There’s a hotel there. It’s not empty, but it is.. Overwhelming, and a bit much. There are also Hermits starter bases.” Stress explained, trying to lay out the options for the two.

Tommy scowled, while Tubbo looked- well, spaced. Easily the quietest either Hermit had seen them, so far. This only added to their concern.

“I have my starter base. No Hermit would bother you, but it’s close enough that we can drop off supplies, and you’d be able to reach others if you need help. Both of you could have anything I left in those chests, Gord knows I have more than enough resources.” Grian offered, glancing between the teens.

“The spawn room was fine, Mr. Grian.” Tubbo cringed, tilting their head towards the builder.

Grian persisted, gently shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. There isn’t the supplies to really just- let you guys sustain, there.” He grimaced, before manifesting the spruce boat icon into his hand. “Hobbit hole with everything in it going to you two, or empty hotel room with no elevator.” He’d offer.

The pair were quiet for a moment, before Tommy groaned. “Fine. Hermithole, or whatever.” 

Nodding along, Grian trailed off towards shore. “Alright, we have a short journey ahead of us, then. And then you two can decide if you want to settle there and make do with what’s stored, or come back on your own accord for more. I won’t make either of you stick around for much longer.”

“Good.” Tommy grumbled, pulling back out his own boat.

Both groups were soon in their boats, and once more, were off into the ocean.

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind. 

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall. 

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick. 

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head. 

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead. 

Not that you’d noticed. 

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.” 

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?” 

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.” 

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.” 

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?” 

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year. 

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs. 

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.  

“So it’s back to its normal price?” 

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle. 

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time. 

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good. 

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder. 

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really? 

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick. 

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.” 

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.” 

And then you look up. Properly. 

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what? 

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?” 

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now. 

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car. 

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries. 

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries. 

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?” 

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain. 

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss. 

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you. 

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies. 

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this. 

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top. 

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you. 

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head. 

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne. 

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.” 

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate. 

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth. 

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.” 

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?” 

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you. 

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?” 

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.” 

“And you lost them all?” 

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.”  You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one. 

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours. 

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.” 

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness. 

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?” 

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …” 

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?” 

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.” 

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you. 

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you. 

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care. 

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops. 

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away. 

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you. 

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

[shitpostsfromtheinvisiblelibrary]

A combination of any or all of these from the assorted fluff prompts for whoever you want?

19 playing with each others fingers, 8 hugging while walking, 24 kisses for cover and 14 putting an arm around the other's waist

I got as much as I could in there, or at the very least, something close

Kai was warm and sturdy against Irene’s side, keeping her on her feet when all she wanted to do was lay down and sleep, potentially sleep for twelve hours and upward. She was exhausted. She was aching all over and she was exhausted. She’d been awake for well over twenty-four hours at this point and whilst Kai had the stamina to keep going, she did not.

She’d been bouncing from one assignment to the other and even if she hadn't been awake for over an entire day at this point, that alone would have left her feeling worn to the born.

“I think we are still being followed,” Kai muttered in a low voice. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her closer so that she could lean against him, it looked like the tender comfort of a pair of lovers, and in a way, it was. But at it’s core it was one of Kai’s greatest strengths, the fact that he always supported her in whatever way she needed.

“If I use the Language, my head may pop,” She muttered, it wasn't quite a literal statement, but the pain behind her eyes made it seem very real to her.

“I’ll sit you on the floor and deal with them,” Kai replied casually, he was more than used to dragging her around when she had exhausted herself, he’d taken to carrying a spare handkerchief for when hers had got too bloody to be of any use.

“We should just hide,” She said, shaking her head and bumping into him when that made the world tilt off kilter for a moment, she groaned, feeling nauseated before her vision settled down again. “We’re nearly at Southwark. Borough market should be open at this time, right?”

“Good idea,” Kai nodded before casting a hasty glance behind them, using a shop window as a mirror in a way that Irene had taught him. “There’s two of them.”

“Three. Someone up ahead, she keeps doubling back on herself, I’ve seen her six times now,” It could be a coincidence and she could be very lost, or she was interested in kidnapping them. Four kidnapping attempts in two days was just irritating but that was a problem with being a high profile ‘politician’. She didn't consider herself a politician, more… someone stopping a lot of powerful people throwing all of the toys out of the pram, and there were a lot of toys.

Kai led the way down an alley way, she could smell the fresh food of the market now, hear the hum of voices as people bartered for the best produce. He kept his arm around her, Irene was beginning to feel somewhat like a ragdol but she wasn't about to try and walk on her own, it wouldn't work, she’d end up on her face and potentially in a sack at the bottom of the Thames and, whilst that wasn't the furthest thing from a good idea to her, it wasn't anywhere near to the top of her list of things that she wanted to do early on a Monday morning.

Mondays were like Belgiums. Subject to all sorts of horrid things.

When she stumbled, catching her foot on a loose cobblestone, Kai tightened his arm around her before quickly dragging her out of the way and into the corner of the large opening crammed with stalls and people, half hidden in the shadow of a large awning, he leant her against the wall and ducked his head.

He kissed her just as the two men that had been following came past. Kai was inconspicuous enough in a simple black coat and trousers, he could have been any man, and with his face turned away from them, they couldn’t identify him. Irene’s dress was more notable, there were many more styles and colours for women to wear, but Kai and the shadows kept her literally in the dark.

Besides, basic human instinct was to not spend too long watching a couple kissing and in such a society as this one, they were even less likely to linger.

Irene leant heavily against his chest as he broke the kiss and pulled her into his arms, lips against her hair. One of her hands was gripping the lapel of his jacket and he put his hand over hers and squeezed.

“We should be able to get the underground from here, then we can break the trail and go to one of the apartments. Catherine knows what to do and Vale has either spoken to her, or he’s noticed we have disappeared.”

Irene weakly nodded. “I need to sleep.”

“I know, as soon as we are at the apartment, you can sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

[mythgirlimagines]

I hope that you like this more obscure talentswap! This fast-talking mile-a-minute lass lives for all there is to do with justice, for she is Myth, the Former Ultimate Stenographer!

-——————————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Being born to two hard-working pervayors of justice (attorneys, in fact), Myth always witnessed her parents getting justice served to the people who deserved it, and always wished to follow in their footsteps, so she would always write what her parents said in the court, so she could use it as future reference. Some of the court officials noticed this, and offered to give this girl a position as the court’s professional stenographer, and you better believe she wears that title like a badge of glory, and performs to the highest of capabilities. Myth’s supreme skill in stenographing earned her a spot on the Hope’s Peak roster as the Ultimate Stenographer, and even in her adult years, she is still working hard every day to record the words uttered by the justice system that she holds ever so dear to her heart. But her best friend forced her to take the next couple of weeks off, and chaperone this years Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Kickboxer

Despite being only two inches taller than their friend, Wyre dominated foes way bigger than them, thanks to their strong and wild kicking, which is enough for them to be considered a champion and caused them to earn their position as the Ultimate Kickboxer, and they are still going strong in their adult years. Despite their rough appearance and her equally rough demeanor and behavior, their criminal record is squeaky clean, and for that reason, Myth and Wyre have been only the best of friends for years and years. Wyre is also the only one who can understand Myth’s fast-talking and shorthand speech, and the only person who can stop Myth from over working herself and stressing herself out over minor details. 

Outfit: An orange and sleeveless hoodie over a bandage-wrapped chest, chains on her neck and wrist, sweatpants that match her hoodie, nothing on her feet.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Puppeteer 

As the mastermind and creative genius behind famous horror web series told exclusively through expertly-crafted marionettes and props, and a creepy voice acting as the narrator, Scar commonly calls herself ”The Narrator”, “The Disembodied Voice”, or, most notably of all, “The Puppetmaster”. Oddly enough, despite puppeteering for specifically in the horror genre, and wearing clothes that would be right at home on a cursed and possessed Victorian-era doll, Scar is actually quite the softie in real-life, often acting like a concerned mother to the other Kibo-Con attendees. Scar’s creepy appearance immediately scared Myth away, much to the dismay of the puppet enthusiast.

Outfit: A red beret on her head, cracks drawn on her face making her resemble a haunted doll, a black and white gothic-Lolita style dress, black and white striped stockings, brown platform heels.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Waiter

Garnering fame all around his hometown for his ability to hold several plates of food all at once, while roller-skating simultaneously, Fusion is a waiter at the “Squeaky-Clean Spoon”, a 60s style diner run by his parents and grandparents, that is famous for their chili dogs and selection of songs on their personal jukeboxes. With their shared love for punctuality in their respective duties and their shared concern for their conmates, you would think that the two would get along perfectly. However, Myth caught wind of a certain skeleton in Fusion’s closet, and hasn’t forgiven Fusion since. Fusion desperately wishes to reconcile with his senpai, even if he is siding with an acclaimed thief.

Outfit: A white dress shirt, a red, yellow, and blue striped tie, a red and white apron, white gloves, red and white four-wheel roller-skates, glasses and pants from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Thief

As a youngster, Fusion II was born and raised on the streets, and had to steal and loot from any house and store that she happened upon, in order to survive in this dog-eat-dog world. Her natural stealth and clever mindset helps her evade her captors and makes her only the perfect thief. However, a couple of months prior, Fusion II was caught stealing from The Squeaky-Clean Spoon by the owners, and was offered a place to stay at the diner, in exchange for working as one of the diner’s chefs. Because Fusion II and Myth are on opposite sides of the law, they both have a massive grudge against each other, making Fusion II the person Myth gets along with the worst.

Outfit: A black-leather jacket over a pink undershirt, blue-ripped jeans with the same apron as Fusion tied over it, tall black boots, sunglasses from the original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Tutor 

Tired of his constant truancy, in spite of his stunning genius, Janon’s teachers have forced him to tutor his kohais, as compensation for all of the school days he missed and as a way to learn what actual work feels like. Because Janon can memorize entire textbooks worth of information, he uses all of this knowledge in order to tutor the school children of his neighborhood. While he does equally as well of a job with students older than him, Janon is notably harsher on them, compared to children (his one weakness and soft-spot). Janon shows zero respect for any of his senpais, particularly the stick-up-her-butt stenographer. Myth is oddly intrigued by Janon’s quick retaining of info.

Outfit: The same formal wear that he wears underneath his hoodie from his original design, with a long pink scarf wrapped around his neck (which was knitted by one of his kohais), reading glasses.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Tap Dancer

The famed star of the Spectacular Sparkling Spotlight (or Troupe S3, for short) Dance Troupe, Sparkle and the other girls of her dance-oriented musical theatre troupe are all skilled at all sorts of dance styles, but as her title would suggest, Sparklw (and the rest of her troupe) mainly specializes in tap dancing. A combination of her loud voice, style and grace on the stage, and the sheer amount of knowledge on the world of performing and theatrics, made Sparkle the perfect person to lead her troupe into worldwide stardom. At first, Myth was scared off by Sparkle’s loud and commandeering tone, but eventually (even if she won’t admit it), the skittish stenographer has warmed up to Sparkle.

Outfit; A black and white tuxedo with a matching hat/headband on top of her hair, white gloves, black and pink tap shoes, a sparkly black and white cape, a cane she carries at all times, glasses from her original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Graffiti Artist, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Tailor

Egg and Wet Sock are a pair of twins best known for their differently-applied artistic genius. Egg, the older and more physically-gifted (but not particularly bright or sensible) of the two, specializes in colorful and eye-grabbing graffiti, with or without permission from commissioners. Wet Sock, the more brooding and withdrawn (yet equally as cursed) of the two, specializes in custom-made and fitted clothes, particularly those of the emo subculture. Egg’s jokey nature and morally dubious talent puts them at odds with Myth, meaning that, out of the twins, Myth gets along better with Wet Sock, despite their strange and frightening attachment to knives and regularly pulling them out.

Egg’s Outfit: Green-tinted goggles, a splattered bandana covering their nose and mouth, a black tanktop, green cargo pants, black gloves, spray can holsters and boots.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A simple black and white tuxedo, accessorized with sewing supplies.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Soccer Player

The otherwise ragtag soccer team of Star Summit Co-Ed Middle School has a secret ace up their sleeve, and that ace’s name is Curious Anon. Curious‘s sheer leg strength combined with his strategic mindset and game-breaking power made them popular among soccer fanatics everywhere and makes them truly earn the title of Ultimate Soccer Player. Despite their stoic and permanent game face frightening opponents, as any of their teammates would tell you, Curious is surprisingly kind-hearted and is easy to get along with. Curious’s honest and upfront nature seems to help calm Myth’s nerves, when she chooses to interact with the easygoing middle school soccer star. 

Outfit: A green and white soccer uniform with black cleats.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Skateboarder 

On the other end of the jock scale, we have Anon Nerd, the jerkish and hyper-aggressive Ultimate Skateboarder, and the eldest of the Kibo-Con roster. Because of his less-than-stellar and hyper-violent upbringing, Nerd took it to the skatepark to vent his frustrations with half-pipe tricks. All the time spent at the skatepark made his skateboarding skills escalate and escalate, until he became a pro-skateboarder in his teen years, and eventually the Ultimate Skateboarder. Because of their close-to-opposite personalities, Myth and Nerd don’t get along well in the slightest. Unfortunately, they’ve both developed feelings for each other, that they’ve never experienced before.

Outfit; Hair in a Mohawk with red and black dyed tips, a black tank-top with a bloody skull illustration on the front, black cargo shorts with sheered bottoms, black socks and white sneakers, tattoos on his arms.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Public Speaker

Wanted to wake up the gullible sheep in the world, Eldritch quickly mustered up the confidence (thanks to several online confidence seminar marathons) to go in front of a crowd, and scream at them about all the terrible state the world is currently in, and how they’re all mindless corporate zombies, to let all of those atrocities slide. Despite his reputation as an overzealous Debbie Downer by many of his detractors, he has many fans for his loud and passionate voice and his regular use of peer-reviewed facts, making his speeches far more reliable than they seem. Eldritch’s anti-government attitude puts him at odds with Myth’s heavily pro-government mindset.

Outfit: Neatly combed hair, a black polo shirt with a green pixel design on the bottom, an orange tie, black pants and matching loafers.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Cadet

Despite her sunny and positive attitude clashing heavily against her strict and stoic military family and the rest of her squadron, no one can deny that Dream is a spectacular cadet towards her squadron. She can also play quite the mean bugle. With Dream and Myth opposite temperaments and interactions with others, you‘d be surprised to learn that they have two common point: their shared love of war history and respect for the government. They often like talking about war strategy and re-enacting old wars throughout history, using Dream’s collectible toy soldiers. These activities are one of the few times Myth‘s walls are let down in front of anybody, apart from Wyre.

Outfit: Hair in two small pigtails, a dark green and light green army helmet, black facepaint, a jumpsuit that matches her helmet, black boots with yellow soles.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Cellist

Ever since she was little, thanks to her musician parents (a guitarist father and a violinist mother), Iris has been exposed to music, and eventually chose to follow in her parent’s footsteps with her favorite instrument: the cello. Unfortunately, because of her dislike of crowded spots, Iris couldn’t join an orchestra like she (and her parents) wanted to, so she opted to simply play her cello from home and upload her music online. Regardless of her fears and anxieties, Iris always tries her best to remain positive. Iris may not understand what the hell Myth is even saying, but she always tries her best to strike conversation with her senpai, in hopes that the stenographer can open up. 

Outfit: Silver music note hairpins, a blue denim jacket with silver music note buttons over a black dress with white string designs in the middle, dark grey leggings, dark blue Mary Janes, glasses from original design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Class Representative

Purple is a student from one of the most prestigious and high-class schools in all of the country, and despite her timid personality, thanks to her strong work ethic and her kind-hearted nature, she managed to secure a position in the school’s hierarchy as the representative of her class. Because of her overly formal and heavily outdated mode of speech that’s more at home with the other students at her uppercrust school, she usually requires a translator (usually Fusion) to make her speech comprehensible to the middle-class conmates. Myth and Purple quickly bonded in true incomprehensible glory, and regularly have conversations that no one but Wyre and Fusion can understand.

Outfit: A black overcoat over a white dress shirt and a red tie, a purple skirt, dark grey stockings, and red Mary Janes, topped off by a red armband on her right arm.

The series centers around the skittish stenographer learning to give potential criminals the chance for redemption.

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Stenographer!Myth is renowned upon the justice system for her efficiency in the court and the stoic face she puts on, upon entering a court environment, able to capture speech right down to the tiniest of breaths. But off of the court, she’s the complete opposite, for her speech is about as speedy, jumbled, and incomprehensible as her writing, often requiring Kickboxer!Wyre to translate for her. Stenographer!Myth is often very jittery, when interacting with others, and almost never relaxes or slows down to take a breather. She has zero time for playing or joking around, for a stenographer’s work is never done, and justice never sleeps. Her moral compass and sense of justice is practically removable, which makes sense, considering the environment she lives in. This puts her at odds with people such as Theif!Two. She’ll never admit it, but Stenographer!Myth really cares about each and every one of the Kibo-Con attendees, but she’ll never admit it, for fear of being made fun of or being taken advantage of by a potential criminal hiding amongst the crowd.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE

Stenographer!Myth has brown hair that reaches her tailbone and wears the same uniform that she wears to court. The uniform consists of a pink headband with a heart pin given by her mother, a blue jacket over a pink dress shirt and a gold pendant with an amethyst in the center, a skirt that matches her jacket, black leggings and ruby red Mary Janes. She carries a stenography machine with her, at all times.

——————————————————-

Phew! I’ve finished this week’s quota! I hope you like this talentswap! Let me hear your opinions on this AU! 

-Fusion Anon

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

Dreams

Summary:

Another fic where you can’t sleep, and Jihoon is there to make your heart flutter

-

You can’t sleep.

God, how were you unable to sleep? How was it possible that you weren’t able to sleep after the intense day you had just had? Sure, you had known that going camping with Seungcheol and his friends would be intense. They were chaotic the little you heard of them at work and in the instances that you had them in small doses, so there was no way that they wouldn’t be intense on their own in the woods, with nothing but the thin walls of a cabin to give you guys any privacy.

You had literally spent the entire day doing activity after activity- you weren’t sure how some of the boys had this much energy. You played baseball with everyone, went out fishing with Jeonghan and Wonwoo, made lunch with Mingyu, started a water balloon fight with Seungkwan (big mistake), danced around a campfire with Chan and Soonyoung, and that only scrapped the surface of the multitude of the day's events- you felt like you should be in a coma right now.

And yet here you were, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling recalling the day's events instead of letting your mind be at peace and finally getting the rest that you so desperately needed.

You did feel overwhelmingly exhausted. You were completely drained of the urge to get up and do anything, to the point that even going down to see if Wonwoo was still awake reading wasn’t really an option for you.

You knew that in the end it was okay if you didn’t get much sleep. The boys would easily be able to reinvigorate you with their energetic personalities tomorrow, and you would probably be able to push through the day and then hopefully knock out by the time everyone was sleeping again tomorrow.

But it would be nice if you didn’t have to count on sleeping tomorrow. You wanted to get rest tonight too. It would just be a waste of time if you laid in bed all night tonight trying to sleep.

“I see you can’t sleep.”

You jolted upright in bed, coming face to face with a figure standing in the doorway. Your initial reaction was to bite a small smile at whoever it was, knowing it had to be one of the thirteen boys, it was just which one that you weren’t entirely sure of.

In the end, it came down to taking in his height in the door frame, and the way that his voice sounded as he spoke to you.

“Jihoon,” you greeted, your voice soft.

Your relationship with Jihoon was as good as it was with any of the boys. Honestly the only prblem that you could find between the two of you was that you two could be a little too competitive sometimes. When it came down to it, neither of you were afraid to participate every now and then in a somewhat overly cruel competition that could only end in one victor.

Of course, the next day, ask either of the two who had won or why you two had even competed in the first place and neither would know. It wasn’t about the results of the competition anyways. It was about the competition itself. Having a good time trying to completely and utterly obliterate the other opponents.

“I can’t sleep either,” Jihoon mumbled. He stepped further into your room so that the moonlight seeping in from your window illuminated him. He was wearing a large grey shirt and a pair of Mingyu’s sweatpants. It made you look away, but only to hide the faint blush that spreading over your cheeks at the sight.

One minor problem that you had with Jihoon- a problem that truly was just... So small was that from the very first moment that you had laid your eyes on the boy, you couldn’t help but deny that he was cute. Sure, everyone in Seungcheol’s friend group was really really cute. To the point that some days you wondered why they hung out with you when they were some of the most popular boys at school and you were merely notable by association.

But Jihoon had always been something different to you.

It was hard for you to ignore the racing of your heart when he leaned too close to you as you two raced in Mario Kart, or to keep your face from getting red when you two were about to commence in another impromptu foot race to see who was fastest.

Luckily for you, neither Jihoon, Seungcheol, or anybody else who happened to be around seemed to notice. Most people honestly believed you and Jihoon to hate each other- or at least be self- proclaimed rivals. But you and Jihoon knew you were friends and that was all that mattered to the two of you.

In fact, when the others weren't around Jihoon had even admitted to you that he was interested in music composition- even going as far as to show you some of the music he had written. Maybe that was when you started to let yourself far for him more then you really meant to.

Sure, he was really cute, but you had been hopeful that you would be able to overlook that, and eventually your growing feelings for him would die... But when he revealed to you something so personal and important to him...

It was no wonder you often found yourself fighting your own strong feelings for him.

Jihoon wandered into the room and sat down on your bed, not bothering to ask if it were okay.

Honestly, you didn’t mind.

As mentioned, before you two were close enough that there was no reason for him to think there should be any problem in him sitting near you. You guys had practically spooned once before when he had gotten a little bored and you had been playing video games.

You still remembered how he felt, curled inside your arms while Super Mario Odyssey music played softly. The way that his hair felt as it brushed your arm. It had been a pleasant day. He had napped in your arms for a good few hours that day until Mingyu had woken him up and teased him for being the little spoon.

“What are you watching?” Jihoon asked. The question caught you off guard. You had forgotten that you had your computer out playing a television show for you to sleep to and despite the fact that the earbud was still in your ear, you were basically numb to the sound of the show in the background. You glanced at the faint glow of your computer screen and then back at Jihoon.

“Oh, it’s uh, The Simpson’s...” You replied. He looked at the screen silently for a little while from where it was sitting in the corner of your bed.

“Can I listen too?”

You gave Jihoon a wary look at the question, wondering what motive he could possibly have for wanting to listen to it with you. Jihoon’s expression didn’t change, he just gazed at you with an even look, that seemed sincere enough to you. You shrugged and offered him your other earbud. He took it and you both laid down, once again, his body in front of yours.

“What’s been happening?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Oh, it’s the episode where Homer becomes that superhero. The more recent seasons are less... Serious than the earlier ones, so they’re easier to just listen to,” you explained. Jihoon nodded ad you two both listened in silence as Homer got chosen to play the role of Every Man in comic book guys movie. As the show rolled on, you closed your eyes, trying your best to let sleep lull you away.

But the combination of Homer’s voice in this episode and Jihoon’s near presence, prevented you from being able to sleep. You sighed and opened your eyes, surprised to see that Jihoon wasn’t trying to sleep at all. He had instead turned his body around and was staring at you with an earnest look in his eyes.

“Why do you watch this when you’re sleeping?” Jihoon asked you, you rolled your head slightly, so that you could meet his eyes better. You wondered if you should tell him the truth or maybe just lie to him about it like you would most people.

You weren’t sure why you lowered your eyes to the blankets, pursing your lips nervously.

“Because when I sleep without it, I dream,” you explained. His eyes pierced into yours, burning holes into yours even though you were suddenly terrified to look at him.

“What’s so bad about dreaming?”

You risked a look back up at him.

“It’s just... Risky, I guess,” you responded. “When I dream, I dream about things that could never happen.”

Dreams of having him, for instance, in your arms. Holding him tight against you being able to call him yours... You knew that the possibility of Jihoon liking you the way that you liked him... It was rare, to impossible.

You didn’t dare to hope that he might share the same feelings for you. That’s why you couldn’t dream. You didn’t need to fantasize about him possibly saying that he wanted to spend more time with you. That the love songs he texted you in the middle of the night were written about you.

You knew that you were just projecting your own feelings onto his actions towards him, and you didn’t want to do that, so you had to drown out the thoughts that you weren’t just making it all up. And those unfortunate thoughts were the most prominent in the middle of the night.

“Things that could never happen?” He questioned, clearly wanting you to elaborate. You hummed.

“Things I’d prefer to keep secret,” you asserted softly. “It’s just safer for me not to mess with those thoughts. They’re... Distracting. They keep me from thinking about what’s right in front of me and instead I think about what could be right in front of me.”

“Dreaming isn’t so bad,” Jihoon mumbled. “I get my best song ideas from my dreams.”

“You do?” You asked him. He nodded.

“My mind is more creative at night, and when it’s quiet and I’m alone, I can hear each separate thought more clearly,” he replied. “I was writing something not long ago. That’s why I was up so late.”

You laughed, a small smile crossing your lips.

“Interesting that you would still be working when you are supposed to be taking a break with all of your friends,” you teased lightly. Jihoon rolled his eyes but didn’t for a second look away from your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t help it. I had a suddenly rush of inspiration.”

You felt your heart pick up its pace at the words and the possible meanings behind them. God, that was enough for you to dream for weeks and weeks all on its own and to think he was so close. This scenario almost felt like a dream in itself.

You swallowed hard and glanced down at your phone screen.

“It’s late. We should try to sleep,” you whispered back to him.

He nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

You were glad that it was dark in the room, because if there was any light, then Jihoon would definitely be able to see the color in your cheeks at his words or at the very least hear the loud pounding of your heart in your chest.

“Of course not.”

You let your eyes drift closed and you tried to focus on Lisa as she spoke to her father. You knew that if you were careful enough, you would be able to forget where you were, who you were with, and what Jihoon had just said to you. If only you just listened a little harder to the show in front of you.

But just as you were losing yourself in the dialogue, feeling yourself finally drifting off Jihoon reached forward, pulling the earbud out of your ear. He closed your laptop and set it aside, so that all you could hear was the deafening silence surrounding you.

“Tonight, you should risk dreaming,” he murmured. “Who knows? Maybe your dreams will come true.”

You opened your mouth to protest but before you really could, Jihoon’s arms were wrapping themselves tentatively around you. He pulled you closer to him, and you felt yourself turn in his arms so that once he had you close enough- your back was against his chest.

You were suddenly nervous, wondering what sort of game he was trying to play with you but before you could question him, his thumb rested over your stomach, rubbing small circles into you.

“Can’t you hear how hard my heart is beating for you?” He asked you softly. “Why do you keep pretending like your feelings are completely one sided?”

You felt Jihoon bury his nose in your hair, and it made your breath catch in your throat.

“Jihoon-”

“Dream about me,” he interrupted you softly. “When you wake up, I’ll still be here, so there’s no reason to be afraid okay?”

This time you didn’t argue with him or ask him what he meant. His intentions were clear. You felt your body relax in his arms, and you nestled your head into the pillow beneath you.

“Good night Jihoon,” you whispered.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered back.

This time, it didn’t take you nearly as long before you finally felt yourself falling asleep.

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Hyde Park in London, UK - September 18, 1976 (Part-1)

An interesting bit about the Hyde Park gig (thanks to Jane Palm-Gold): "The white boiler suit Fred wore coming onstage was especially chosen by him so that he could be seen from miles away (because white stands out at a distance) and even better (and this is great but you have to know this place really - a London landmark for many years) it was acquired at Lawrence Corner at Euston (!), a tatty second hand clothes /hire place where a lot of clothes /outfits were hired from for band promo shoots - for instance they had a lot of military stuff there."

(x)

After the success of A Night At The Opera (and not to mention how the weekly Sounds readers' poll elected the band #1 in the best album, best single, and best band categories), Queen wanted to pay the British fans back for back their loyalty and support over the last few years. Whilst in Japan earlier in the year, they came up with the idea to stage a massive free concert. With the help of record industry entrepreneur Richard Branson (creator of Virgin Records/megastores) they started making plans for the Hyde Park show, which turned into a mini tour along with the Edinburgh and Cardiff shows. It is estimated that between 150-200 thousand people turned up at Hyde Park, which is still a record for the venue to this day. This show cemented their position in the top bracket of rock bands. The stage used was the same stage that was constructed for the Rolling Stones concert at the Knebworth Fair a few weeks earlier. 

Queen's first huge show at home brought certain areas of London to a grinding halt, and space on public transportation was at a premium. The concert took place on the anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death. A banner hung from a tree that read "Hendrix Lives," and at one point in the show Brian May noticed it with much appreciation. The band are seen in the photos above arriving at the venue, where they were joined backstage by Pink Floyd's Roger Waters. Supercharge, Steve Hillage, Rufus, and Kiki Dee (along with a cardboard cut-out of Elton John, who couldn't make it to join her for Don't Go Breaking My Heart) played before Queen (Be-Bop Deluxe and John Miles were supposed to be on the bill as well, but were axed for some reason). A pro-shot video of Steve Hillage's performance exists as well as Queen's. There was a fight in the audience during Hillage's set, during which he played extended trippy versions of It's All Too Much by The Beatles and Hurdy Gurdy Man by Donovan. Also notable is Supercharge's singer Albie Donnelly parodying Freddie Mercury in a white leotard and a half mic stand. The first half of the A Day At The Races overture is aired publicly for the first time (the upcoming album had been partially recorded by this point). The usual Bohemian Rhapsody opening sequence then commences for the last time. The band make their entrance, and everybody near the stage stands up (the audience had been seated on the grass for the opening acts). This angers many fans who are further back (roughly 90% of the audience now cannot see the stage), so they start lobbing cans, bottles, or whatever else that can be thrown. After a few songs, Freddie asks everyone simply to calm down: "I have been requested by the constabulary for you not to throw little things around, tin cans or whatever. So make this a peaceful event, ok? Sit on your arses and listen." Brian, after his solo spot in Brighton Rock (he stutters a bit, revealing that he's still nervous): “From one piece of nonsense to another, I’ve said it before. This is something we wanted to do with the London Philharmonic but they didn’t show up, so we will do the ethnic version of a song called '39." He is seen in a dazzling new outfit tonight, which he'd wear every night through Japan 1979. It would become the outfit he'd change into during the opera section of Bohemian Rhapsody. "Clap along and stuff," he urges the audience, as he plays the intro of what he'd later describe as the first song about Einstein's general theory of relativity. After '39, Freddie audaciously performs the as-of-yet unreleased You Take My Breath Away alone on the piano, even hitting many of the falsetto notes that he'd excise in 1977 versions. He then gets cheeky and introduces The Prophet's Song as "a little shorter number from our album A Night At The Opera." Perhaps he still had You Take My Breath Away in his head, as he begins the a cappella section with what would become the first line of the A Day At The Races ballad instead of the usual "oh, people can you hear me?" bit. He also references Death On Two Legs, as he had done a few times earlier in the year. After Stone Cold Crazy, the band play Keep Yourself Alive and Liar, having dropped Doing All Right and Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon from the set. The combination of these three heavy numbers would prove to be very effective, and they would stick with it for their following North American tour. Liar is a great version, with many great Mercuryisms throughout. Before the last song, Brian coyly says, "This is In The Lap Of The Gods, or something like that." The band play a similar set to the ones they did in Edinburgh and Cardiff, except they drop Doing All Right, Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon and Tie Your Mother Down. They intended to perform their usual encore of Big Spender and Jailhouse Rock, but the show had run a half hour past its scheduled ending time (a curfew strictly enforced by the authorities). The police threatened to arrest the band if they went back on stage, and Freddie was later quoted saying how he would prefer not to be stuck in a jail cell in his leotard. And so, Bob Harris was left with the unenviable task of announcing to the crowd that the show was over. He later recalled how difficult and nerve-wracking it was to tell an audience of this size who had waited for about ten hours that there would be no encore. Now I'm Here was the first encore every night around this time, making this the one time between 1974 and 1986 where the song is not performed. The liner notes of Live Killers suggest that Now I'm Here was dropped from the set for a while, but that is patently untrue. People in one section of the audience chanted "Why are we waiting," all in good fun, knowing full well the show was over. The police soon turned off the main power feed to the park, forcing hundreds of thousands of people to make their way out in sheer darkness. Their reasoning was that it was the only way to "control" such a large number of people who had been rowdy throughout the day. In a 1977 interview with Capital Radio, Brian recalls the day: "It had a great sunny day for it, and everyone had a good time. There were still altercations on the day, and there was a big thing with the powers that be because they wouldn't let us go on and do the encore, about which we were very upset, having worked up for months and prepared for all that. They got very frightened because there were 150,000 people in Hyde Park in the dark, and they thought they were going to get out of hand. But in fact, there was no possible danger happening at all. Everyone was peaceful and having a good time."

This show is what epitomized their popularity in Britain, and when they felt they "had really made it," as Brian would later recall. On another occasion he said, "I think that Hyde Park was one of the most significant gigs in our career. There was a great affection because we'd kind of made it in a lot of countries by that time, but England was still, you know, we weren't really sure if we were really acceptable here. So it was a wonderful feeling to come back and see that crowd and get that response." Despite the fact that the audience had been there all day watching the various opening acts and waiting, the band delayed the show as long as possible just so it could get dark enough for their lighting and various other effects to make their full impact (as demanded by Freddie). Throughout the show, the band's nervousness and excitement for the occasion are evident. Most of the audience couldn't see a thing during Queen's set, since the stage was barely elevated. "The smell of the dry ice and the sound are the only sensory memories I have of this show," recalls Jane Palm-Gold. Here is an article from the day of the show, 

and a review from a week later (both were submitted by Boris Arkhangelsky).

Tonight would be the final performances of Flick Of The Wrist, Son And Daughter, and the (almost) full The Prophet's Song. A snippet of The March Of The Black Queen would be performed only once more in 1978, but a different part of the song.

Here is  a Virgin Records flyer.

The second pic is the famous overhead shot that appeared in the October 9, 1976 Melody Maker. Pic 5 was submitted by Janneman,  and pics 6 and 7 were submitted by Lukáš Bosík.

Fan Stories

“Well, I was 13 years old and had got into Queen through Night At The Opera and THAT video. I'd never been to a gig before and it took a lot of convincing of a sceptical mother to let me go to Hyde Park on my own. After answering the inevitable "no, I won't talk to strange men mum" questions I was allowed to go. The morning came and I was up at 6am, got my packed lunch together (can you imagine going off to a gig now with your sandwiches and orange juice!) and headed off to Hyde Park. I remember getting there so early that I was right by the crash barriers at the front and determined to try and hold my spot all day. As the day progeressed however I ended upmoving backwards slowly as people pushed in. I can remember savouring the whole build up, the support bands, everything. As dusk started to fall, the stage went dark and the dry ice started up. I broke my mums don't talk to strangers bit and a very nice bloke put me up on his shoulders so I could see them come on. I just remember the crash of light and sound as they came on as if it was yesterday (and not 27 years ago!). The rest of the gig was amazing and that was it, I was hooked on Queen and rock music. I saw Queen on every tour they ever did in England (and a few in Europe) after that but nothing compares to that first gig for me.” 

- Andy

Part-2

Part-3

[bookandcranny]

Little Angels

One]

It is dark inside a wolf’s belly, but up here the air is clear and bright. Atop the tower of Paradiso, above the city of mist and gray. The roof is all caved in and shattered, scattering brilliant prisms through the fragmented skylight and across the floor. A man stands alone in the wreckage, inside the skeletal remains of this holy animal. He sifts through the books that were left behind until he finds one with a red cover and no title, but the letters A-D embossed along its spine. He flips to a certain chapter, and begins to read.

It was in another kind of tower that it happened. The Detective entered into the penthouse apartment of the Deeds family, a couple from the upper crust who were in a state of panic over their missing teenage daughter. From that first frantic phone call with the grief-ridden Gloria Deeds, Sacha knew the shape of this case inside out, backwards, and upside down. It was a classic. 

Teenage girl from a wealthy family, sheltered her whole life, the type who could do no wrong in the eyes of her doting, overbearing parents. One night she leaves without warning, to chase some guy or some band or some misplaced sense of adventure. The reasons didn’t matter as much as what they were willing to pay for the reassurance that their precious little angel would be home safe and sound.

There were just a couple of details he hadn’t counted on.

Sacha sat idling on the side of the road, looking down at the photo the Deeds’ had given him. It was a little roughed up at the edges and faded at the crease where he’d folded it. He’d forgotten how fragile these old-fashioned print photographs were. Despite the damage, the face of thirteen year old Renee Deeds still looked up at him with those same gentle brown eyes and private smile. 

The girl in the photo, however accurate it was to real life, had her hair pulled back in a crowd of twin braids that crested over thick dark curls. She wore what Sacha presumed to be church clothes-- tidy blouse and long skirt, an heirloom brooch-- and a pair of crutches braced to her forearms. Her ankles were crossed and tucked limply to one side, away from the camera’s focus.

The girl’s disability put a complication in the narrative he’d been concocting. According to the Deedses, Renee could only go so far on foot without intense pain and she disliked using her chair. It remained in the hall closet, untouched since her disappearance. Mr Deeds worked from home most days so rather than send her off to school, she was homeschooled by a well-vetted private tutor under her father’s occasional supervision. She had few friends, being a reserved child, they said. Sacha thought it probably had more to do with the gilded cage she lived in, lined with bubblewrap and goose down lest she ever bruise her precious knees. But it wasn’t his place to say.

Regardless, this left him with a very limited pool of suspects. And suspects they were indeed, since the Deeds were certain Renee had been kidnapped. Such a good girl would never have just wandered off on her own. 

If that was indeed the case, the culprit had done a remarkable job of covering their tracks. Renee was last seen by her mother who had put her to bed at 9 'o'clock on the dot. The security system had been armed all night and there were no signs of tampering. Besides which, the only way out of the penthouse that didn’t involve a several story drop to a very unhappy ending was through the front lobby and the cameras in and outside it didn’t detect anyone unusual, coming or going. 

The parents’ first move, naturally, was to call the police. The cops questioned the other residents and scanned the security tapes but turned up empty handed and after a few weeks of daily calls the officers on the case all but told Mr and Mrs Deeds that their hands were tied. For once, even money and social standing couldn’t hasten the hand of justice. That was when they had called on private investigator Sacha Ferro to get the job done.

All these facts laid out before him, Sacha found himself no closer to the answer than he had been at the start. The difference between then and now was not information but desperation, the heights of which had brought him here. Orphan’s Hollow.

The last few years had hit this city hard, same as it did all of them. It wasn’t a single sudden thing, but rather a combination of natural disasters, a virulent epidemic, and the consequential economic collapse that left entire districts barren, now inhabited only by clustered communities of the homeless. The handful of city blocks now known as Orphan’s Hollow was one such district, named so because it was, if stories were to be believed, populated entirely by children. Hollowed out department stores and office buildings and, most notably, the abandoned fairgrounds of Fun Town West became a tragic Neverland for runaways and other parentless youth in hiding from the overburdened childcare system.

Recently, there had been an epidemic of another kind in many of the nearby boroughs. Kids were going missing, just like Renee Deeds had, except most families weren’t fortunate enough to be able to hire someone to track them down. From what Sacha could pick up, most of them-- those that were reported-- were girls between the ages of six and sixteen. Other than that, the demographics were all over the map: black, white, rich, poor, healthy, sick. Missing posters spawned and spread like mold across the billboards and telephone poles, while the local government processed statistics with dead eyes and shrugging shoulders.

The unspoken truth seemed to be that if they were anywhere, if they were alive, the missing girls were somewhere in here. But the kids of Orphan’s Hollow were protective of their own and wouldn’t likely allow any cops to sift through their ranks even if they did trust their motives. It became one of those open secrets that everyone knew about but no one wanted to touch. 

On top of that, not every orphan was some scrawny Dickens novel side character; there were rumors of gang activity and even some sort of cult that made the teenagers who ended up in this part of town vicious towards outsiders. Orphan’s Row was a name with more than one meaning, they said, because if you took those kids lightly they’d turn yours into orphans as well. None of that mattered to Sacha though. At this point, he had little left to lose.

There was a gun in the glovebox of the Detective’s hatchback, unloaded, and he hoped it would stay that way. The idea of turning any weapon on a kid, no matter their alleged viciousness, turned his stomach. He would bring it with him to be used, in only the most absolutely dire circumstances, as a threat. Leverage. If it came down to it, he could rationalize that.

As he turned down another vacant street into the ghost town, the weather began to turn as well. It had been drizzling steadily since the evening prior, making the humidity all the more unbearable, but now the rain relented and in its place a clotted mist settled low over the city, like ink diffusing in water. Sacha kept his lights low and foot barely pressing on the gas pedal. Though it was irrational he felt uneasy at the idea of making himself any more noticeable than he was already.

When the car jolted it was like being shaken awake from a dream. At first he thought it was another pothole-- the roads were a wreck after so long untended-- but then there was an audible crunch and a lurch as his front-left tire burst. Without bothering to pull over he got out and found the problem right away. Deep in the tire, lodged between the wheel and its socket, was a doll. Or at least, something that was trying to be a doll.

The body was made out of metal; scraps from perhaps an aluminum can worked together with screws and painted to give it the look of a hoop-skirted dress. Its head was a christmas ornament. He recognized the pink painted cherub cheeks and curling synthetic hair. Some broken edge of the makeshift toy had punctured the tire, and of course Sacha didn’t have a spare on hand, even if he could figure out how to rip the damn thing out of the wheel well. 

He muttered a curse to himself. He’d have to leave it here and keep going on foot. At least there wasn’t anything in the car worth stealing, and he didn’t exactly have to worry about getting a ticket.

A sudden shriek made Sacha jump, hand going blindly to the holster under his shirt.

“My doll!” the child cried again. “You killed Jessika! My dolly!”

Sacha turned around and saw a young girl, barefoot and wearing what looked like an old halloween costume, standing across the street from him like a specter out of the fog. Appropriate, since she was so keen on howling like a banshee.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about your dolly,” he gentled, crossing to meet her. 

The girl seemed to be considering running away from the strange man, as would well be her right, but stood her ground instead as her face grew redder.

“You killed her,” she said again. “She was a person and you killed her.”

Sacha dropped to one knee. “ I’m sorry about your Jessica--” 

“Jessika!”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. “I am sorry, but it was an accident, really. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

She sniffled. “I’m Princess Ladybird,” she said, as though it should have been obvious. She gestured at her costume, a pink sparkly dress studded with plastic gems around the collar. “Who are you? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“My name is Sacha. I’m a private investigator-- a detective,” he corrected, seeing her confused expression. “I’m looking for someone. They’re not in any trouble, I just need to make sure they’re safe. Do you think you could help me, your highness?”

He kept his voice low and comforting. Dealing with kids wasn’t exactly his specialty, but he knew what he was doing well enough.

“No! No!” the girl cried, more agitated than ever. “No grownups allowed! You’ll just hurt them, just like Jessika!”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he insisted, growing frustrated. “And I told you didn’t mean to break your doll. I could buy you a new doll? A nicer doll.”

She shook her head adamantly. “The store dolls aren’t alive. I only play with alive dolls.”

Play along, Sacha. “Okay, where can I get you a new ‘alive’ doll?”

“You can’t make an alive doll, you’re too old,” she huffed. 

Sacha was not going to let himself be offended by a six year old. He wasn’t. “If your dolls are so precious, maybe you shouldn’t leave them in the street!”

“Maybe you should look where you’re going!” With that, she stomped on his foot and ran away. Sacha barely felt it through his shoes, but that was a small consolation. In a blink the princess was gone again.

He sighed. It was no less than he expected, but it still didn’t feel good. With the world they’d been living in, it wasn’t any surprise that the kids here were a bit strange. At least this one had seemed healthy enough, certainly energetic. That meant there was probably someone making sure she was kept fed. 

He reminded himself that there was nothing he could do for these kids. Better to focus on what he was here for.

Two]

Sacha walked along the sidewalk without any real sense of where he was going. He occasionally saw clusters of children playing games or jumping in puddles in the street, but most were inside keeping out of the weather. When he looked up he sometimes saw tiny faces peering down at him from high windows or crouched on fire escapes. The ones on the ground didn’t spare him a look except in fleeting disgust. There was a girl reading fortunes for her friends from a dented pack of playing cards who went abruptly silent when he passed by, and Sacha came to realize that they were deliberately ignoring him, hoping to shun him into leaving the way he came. 

When he tried to approach a pair of tweens doing some sort of craft project in a sheltered doorway, they quickly picked up their things and scampered away, leaving only a trail of paint droplets behind them. They didn’t look too terribly hard-off; their clothes were sometimes dirty but they were all in one piece and their eyes were bright and lively. It was sort of amazing, Sacha thought, how they’d really managed to build something of a community here, away from adults. Part of him almost envied them.

“Excuse me,” he tried again with a girl who was a bit older than the last. Her age didn’t make her look any more mature really, only sharper, as if she were growing but growing into the wrong shape. “I’m looking for--”

“Everyone knows what you’re looking for,” the young woman said. “You’re loud enough about it.”

This one wasn’t exactly friendly but at least she hadn’t run away yet. Sacha went to pull out a photo. 

“Put that away, man,” she hissed. “You’re not going to find any girls who look like that here, and the wrong fledgling might just eat you alive for having it.”

“For having a photograph?” He didn’t bother to ask what a “fledgling” was supposed to be. Some sort of weird slang he was too dated to recognize, he guessed.

“For keeping another girl’s face! All you need is a face and a real-name and you can make that person do and say whatever you want.”

“Is this some kind of game you kids play? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not a game,” she said gravely. “You don’t understand anything. Walking into this world when you don’t know the rules is as good digging your own grave.”

“Help me catch up, then. Level with me,” Sacha pressed. “I can make it worth your while.”

He didn’t have much money on hand, but he had medicine credits set aside for emergencies and that should be worth its bytes in gold in a place like this. Or if not, she could pawn it and buy some earrings or animal crackers or whatever kids liked.

“Save it, I don’t have an account. Legally, most of the kids here don’t even exist. You’ll have to trade for what you want the old fashioned way, outsider.”

Exasperated, Sacha rooted around in his pockets and came up with a protein bar and a keychain that doubled as a bottle opener. The girl didn’t look impressed.

“Okay look, hand over the picture and the rest of it and I’ll tell you where you need to go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Outsiders don’t survive long here.”

Sacha wasn’t convinced this wasn’t all some intimidation game, but he folded up the photo of Renee and handed it to her anyway. If he really needed the visuals he had pictures on his phone. He’d turned it off shortly after setting out, when the calls and texts from his sister started pouring in, but couldn’t quite bring himself to leave it behind in the car. He could just picture Maria pacing around the house scowling at his number as another message failed to go through. 

I’ll make it up to you, he promised her silently.

“There’s a spot two blocks that way,” She pointed. “Left, left, right, down some steps, and you’ll see a sign for The Love Nest. It’s hard to miss.”

Something about the name said through her lips made him want to recoil. The girl scoffed at his unease.

“Relax, it’s just the name left from the old owners. It belongs to the brood now. It’s a good place, a sacred place.” She sighed, looking up and around as if projecting to an imaginary audience. “Not that someone like you would get any of that, I guess. A lot of fledglings hang around there. If your girl can be found, you’ll find her there. If not, she’s already gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” he demanded.

“I mean gone.” she held up the photograph, still folded. “Gone like this.”

She tore the square neatly in two and let the halves flutter to the ground.

“I’m not even supposed to tell you this much, so if you missed your window don’t even think about hanging around here trying to dig out more information. You’re pushing your luck as it is.”

What an angry kid, Sacha thought to himself as he departed. He wasn’t too different when he was that age, but outright threatening someone who was only trying to do good seemed a bit extreme, especially when that someone had a good head of height on you as well. Was it the conditions they lived in that made them so temperamental here? Or just adolescent angst? Hopefully he wouldn’t be staying long enough to find out.

And just how was he planning to leave, even if he was successful, he wondered. He’d have to drive them out on three tires. Ruining his car would be well worth it though if it meant ending this.

Angry girl’s directions turned out to be sound and soon enough Sacha found himself at the door of a closed down club that proudly announced itself as “The Love Nest” in faded pink letters above the door. The windows were boarded up but there were still some old posters for the upcoming live entertainment pinned to the plywood. It appeared the place had been at least marginally more legitimate than Sacha had guessed by the name, while it had been in operation.

Pushing through the double doors the Detective found himself in a gloomy ballroom, styled vaguely like a vintage cabaret club or perhaps someone’s romanticized idea of a 1920s speakeasy. There were a few tables-- standing only by virtue of the bolts that held them to the hardwood-- a bar, and a large circular stage in the middle of it all. Sacha toed aside what he’d thought was a trash bag only to hear a grumbled complaint and find another of the hollow’s orphans crawling out of a sleeping bag on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” the kid asked, with such pointed accusation you’d think he’d personally wronged them. They were wearing an oversized “Fun Town” t-shirt and flannel bottoms with a paw print pattern.

Roused by the noise, some other children began emerging from their own napping spots to investigate.

“Are you a cop?” one asked.

“No, I’m more of a detective,” he replied.

“Sounds like a cop to me. And you look like a cop.”

Sacha frowned. “How so?”

“You’re old,” the kid said. “And you have blood on you.”

He looked down at his hands, his clothes. He saw brown khakis, dusty black loafers, pale patterned button-up shirt. No tie; he’d spilled coffee on it on the drive, hands already shaky from the ill-advised extra caffeine. To his embarrassment, he noticed a faint dampness where the weather and his own nerves had painted sweat across his collar, but no blood.

“It’s okay,” said the first child, yawning. “Snowy sees blood on everyone.”

“I don’t see it, I smell it,” challenged Snowy. She took a deep breath through her nose. “And you stink of it. Dirty blood, blood that wasn’t ready to be shed. Have you ever killed anybody, Mr Detective?”

Sacha fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Have you been talking to a girl in a princess dress?”

“You mean Princess Ladybird?”

“Never mind,” he said quickly, as if simply mentioning that ridiculous name might conjure up her horrible wailing. “I’m looking for someone. Two someones actually.”

He considered taking out his phone but, remembering how Angry Girl had reacted to the photo, decided to try a different approach. 

“I was told I might find them here. One is named Renee Deeds and the other is Ana Ferro-Silver, eighteen and fifteen years old. Anything you can tell me about either of them would be a huge help. I’m sort of hoping one will lead me to the other.” He forced a smile. 

Kid in the pajamas frowned. “There’s no one with names like that here. You woke us up over something as dumb as that?”

“I don’t think it’s dumb to want to find two girls who might be in a lot of trouble,” he said tersely. “And why were you asleep anyway? It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Growing makes us tired,” Pajamas shot back. They rolled their shoulders. “And sore.”

“And hungry!” added a third child. “Did you bring us any food?”

“Why would I have any food?”

“I heard the gargoyles say you gave Singing Finch a candy bar.”

“It was a protein bar,” he said before he could think to deny it. “What kind of name is ‘Singing Finch’ anyway?”

“It would’ve been Evening Finch, but she tattled so now she’s Singing Finch,” they explained patiently. “She tattled on us and then she tattled on you to the gargoyles and the kestrels. She can’t help it though. She’s a songbird, it’s what they do.”

“So you don’t have any candy?” the other cut in. Sacha put out his empty hands so she could verify and she bit him.

Pajamas laughed as he pulled away with a curse and a cry. “You are dumb. There aren’t any girls in trouble here. You’re the only one in trouble, but that’s because you’re an outsider and a cop, so you probably deserve it.”

Sacha felt a muscle in his jaw tense. He was beginning to think this had all been a huge waste of time. These kids operated on their own kind of logic, their own language, one which was foreign to him. 

“Please,” he said. “Please. I know a lot of you are without families, but these girls still have people who care for them, who are looking for them. I have to bring them home.”

The children looked at him, and then a few of them looked at each other, huddling together in hushed conference. The one called Snowy, who was sitting on top of the bar, glared at him, tilting her head as if she were trying to read something written on the side of his head in very small print. He caught himself raising a hand to touch his neck and let it drop self-consciously back to his side.

“If you keep going like this, you might die,” she told him innocently. “Did you know that?”

The presence of the gun against his stomach, empty though it was, made his skin tingle. “I considered the possibility,” he said, and it was the honest truth. 

“When you die, will you go to paradise?”

“You’re too young to be thinking this much about blood and death.”

“I’ve seen death.” Her voice was without intonation, no defensiveness or accusation anywhere in her tone. She couldn’t have been any older than ten. “My mom died in front of me. She had a fever, but I stayed cold. That’s why they call me Snowy.” She paused, shrugged one shoulder. “Also because I can eat a whole mouse in one bite, like a snowy owl.”

“Oh,” Sacha said lamely. “I’m- I’m so sorry.”

She gave another shrug. “S’okay, I’m with the brood now and they take care of me just as good as mom would. I’m just saying, you don’t really seem like a guy who’s ready to die for anyone.”

Amongst all the riddles and nonsense, this at least was something he could understand. 

“I promise you, I am.”

Pajamas tugged at his sleeve. “Hey, hey Detective, have you ever been to Fun Town?”

He blinked, reeling from the non sequitur. “Excuse me?”

They pointed at the garish logo on their shirt. “‘Fun Town: It’s the funnest place on earth!’ Maybe your friends are there.”

“You’re not going to tell me I should just turn back now? That I’m dumb and the kids I’m looking for are gone forever?” he couldn’t help but snark.

“Don’t listen to Finch, she’s a liar. Nobody’s gone. Different, but not gone.”

Fun Town was an amusement park franchise with a handful of locations all over North America. Had been, that is. They’d had to shut down all their locations more than ten years ago, due in part to the outbreak at the time as well as some unsettling information about the eccentric late founder that came out after his death. Something about swaying elections and pouring company funds into an illicit genetic engineering project. Another day, another megalomaniac billionaire exposé. It had been big news at the time but now it was just another piece of pop culture trivia.

The Fun Town West fairgrounds were now little more than a fancy animatronics graveyard. The rides-- what of them hadn’t been torn down and picked clean by opportunistic scavengers-- were sparkling rusted monuments. Any sense of childhood wonder that remained had long since been siphoned off and sold. The kids didn’t seem to mind though, for how they’d congregated around the place. Maybe Pajamas had a point. It was a big, bright landmark, impossible to miss, and as good a place to search as any.

Three]

The Detective left Snowy and Pajamas and the other strange flock of The Love Nest behind, feeling a grim sense of determination The puckered bite mark on his hand throbbed; the little creep had managed to break skin! 

As he navigated his way to the outskirts of the district, Sacha mulled over the interactions he’d had so far. Reluctantly he pulled out his phone to take some notes, ignoring the voicemail notifications cluttering the screen.

The kids call themselves “brood”-- some sort of gang name? The younger ones and/or newcomers to their group seem to be called fledglings. Everyone has a nickname; real names and pictures of faces have some sort of negative significance. And what of the “songbirds”, “kestrels”, etc? Songbirds: spread information. Kestrels: Unknown.

He huffed. None of this was bringing him anywhere closer to the truth about the missing girls. None of it was helping him find Ana.

By the time he power-walked to the long neglected fairgrounds, the hazy sky was becoming downright dour. The clouds had turned the color of smoke. Combine that with the stench of burnt plastic wafting from some of the attractions, it made for an unpleasant effect. He felt that a storm was brewing, and hoped that whatever came he’d be able to find shelter before the sky opened up around him.

He’d been here only twice while it was still in operation; once just him and his parents and once with Maria. By the second visit he’d already lost his sense of wonderment when it came to a day at the fair. The weather was hot and the crowds were annoying and all the games were rigged. Yet there was still a part of him that felt deeply sad to see what Fun Town had become. This was the sort of place that should’ve been beautiful forever, even as the children grew up and out of their love for it.

As he wove through the rows of darkened kiosks, the fairgrounds suddenly erupted into light. Sacha startled and shielded his eyes. The tired bulbs cracked and fizzled and when he looked up again the desiccated corpse of Fun Town had been revived in a great pulse of electricity. Against the backdrop of perpetual gloom the friendly colors were all the more headache-inducing, and somewhere a tinny recording of calliope music began to play. It all made Sacha’s skin crawl.

Against his every instinct, he let the music lead him to a shack next to the arcade with a mounted loudspeaker, the door marked with a firm “employees only”. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Inside, another brood girl in coveralls was fiddling with a fuse box and leaning her hip against a desk with an old CCTV. The security system was so antiquated that it didn’t look like it should turn on at all, yet there upon the pixelated screen Sacha could still make out the shape of himself entering the park on a loop. 

The girl turned around, flipping a frizzy head of hair over her shoulder. Although, it turned out she wasn’t so much a girl as a young woman, pushing against the line between teenage and adulthood. His gut reaction was relief. This might be the closest thing to a rational adult he would find around here. Hopefully she’d be of more help than the others.

Come to think of it, he realized, he’d never considered what happened to the Orphan’s Hollow kids once they grew up. Surely there must be some adults here, somewhere. But then, everyone who’d met him so far had treated him as a foreign invader. Were all adults so unwelcome, as he’d assumed, or was there something about him in particular? 

The most rational assumption was that the homeless kids simply became homeless adults. No need for any additional fanfare. They would graduate from the Hollows and go on to squat in other parts of the city. There was certainly no shortage of slums these days, he thought glumly.

Did any ex-runaways ever try to go home, those that still had them? Did that Renee ever think about home? 

“What ho, outsider!” the teen greeted. Sacha felt himself relax despite himself, so glad to be met with at least one friendly face.

“‘What ho’?” he parroted lamely.

“It’s theatre-speak for ‘wassup’. As in, what the hell are you doing in brood territory?”

She moved quickly. He didn’t notice the knife until it was tucked under his chin, pointed at his throat. 

Sacha’s back hit the wall and he put up his hands in surrender. “Hold on, I’m not looking for a fight.”

“Oh yeah?” she giggled. She wrenched up the front of his shirt. “What’s this then? A prop? If I shoot it, will a little flag come out that says ‘bang’?”

She un-holstered the pistol and pointed it at his forehead.

“That’s not a toy,” he said slowly. “Just a little insurance. Like your knife there, I’m sure. I don’t think either of us wants anybody to get hurt.”

“This?” She tossed it in the air and caught it. “Nah, this is part of the act. Tonight, I’m a knife thrower. I’ve never been a knife thrower before. I hope it goes well.”

Sacha tried to speak, but the girl pressed the cold flat of the blade to his lips.

“The older girls put on shows for the fledglings. Sometimes here in Fun Town, sometimes over in the Nest, or up on the rooftops when the weather is nice. I’d invite you, but I don’t think you’d be welcome.” She adjusted her grip again so that the knife was touching the tip of his nose. “All day there’ve been whispers about some kind of detective guy putting his nose in our business.”

“I don’t care about you brood kids do here.”

“Liar.”

“I swear, I don’t. I’m just trying to find someone. I’m not even a real detective anymore,” he confessed. “I wouldn’t tell anyone what you’re doing here. Even if I did, no one would believe me. I’m nobody.”

The knife thrower gave a big, hearty laugh, and Sacha’s throat tightened with fear. He didn’t consider himself a violent person, but over his career he’d come to blows with enough unruly targets and bitter clients alike that he knew when someone was posturing, and when someone was really out for blood. Normally there was a clear indicator of one kind or another; a tightening of the jaw, a certain nervous tick, a look in their eyes. 

But this girl he couldn’t get a read on at all. He hoped that meant she was still on the fence about the subject.

Struggling to keep his voice level he said, “You don’t have to do this. Something like this will haunt you your whole life, you know, and you’ve got so much life left. You’re still just a kid--”

She reared her hand back and struck at his head with the butt of the pistol. Sacha dodged. It slammed into the fuse box she’d been working on instead and the lights went out. Taking advantage of the darkness, he shoved past her and in a stroke of blind fortune found the door. There was a sound then, like the rush of wind in his ears. Then a sharp flash of pain as a flying knife split the cartilage of one ear.

He stumbled and hit the pavement. When Sacha turned around, hand clutched to his head, he saw the young woman’s silhouette bracketed by two iridescent black wings. Again that sound, ferocious wingbeats stirring the air. All he saw were two but it sounded like hundreds, a massive flock taking off in perfect synchronicity. 

“It’s really frustrating when people don’t take me seriously,” said the winged creature as she approached him. Maybe it was an effect of the many colored lights, but her skin appeared to have a glossy sheen to it, like an oil painting in motion. “But you look like you’re starting to get it now.”

“What the hell are you?” Sacha asked with a mix of horror and feverish reverence.

“What do you think I am?”

The thought came to him unbidden. It was an insane thought, one he didn’t even truly believe in, yet this was an insane situation. “The angel of death.”

That gave her pause. “You’re not right, but you’re not really wrong either I guess. Truth be told, I’m heaven on earth. Maybe I’ll cut you some slack if you worship me”

A wing brushed over his skin, however faintly, and it felt warm and real as the blood cooling on his skin. Not ethereal or dreamlike as he might’ve expected but so real, and all the more hideous for it. He shuddered and said nothing.

The false angel, this predatory animal, took a step back. She spun the pistol around one long finger until it slipped and fell to the ground. She looked at it for a moment, as if surprised.

“Huh. It was lighter than I expected,” she said. Then she kicked it aside. “You win this one I guess. I’ll let you go.”

He stared at her, mouth agape, sure it was some trick.

“What? You don’t believe me. I put it in fate’s hand, and for some reason it looks like fate wants to keep you alive a little longer. It’s not how I saw this going, but I can roll with some improv.” She put up her hands. “Don’t bother groveling. I won’t kill you even if you beg. I know guys like you love punishment. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Here… in Fun Town? Or, are you asking why I’m alive?”

She laughed. She so loved laughing. “Morbid! You’re morbid, man. I mean, why are you here among the brood? At… what do the outsiders call it? The Orphan Hole?” she snickered. “You kind of stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I’m trying to find someone,” Sacha repeated quietly. He’d said the line so many times he felt it was starting to lose its meaning. “And to make up for something I did.”

“Well you should’ve said so in the first place! If you’re looking to atone you need to meet with the broodmother. If you hurry, you might still be able to catch her. Tonight’s going to be kind of a crazy night once it kicks off, but if you plead your case I’m sure she’ll hear you out. 

“I have to keep setting up here. You go on ahead.” She pointed out in the direction he’d come from. “It’s a straight shot to Paradiso. You can tell her the angel of death sent you.”

She spared him one last smirk and then shot up into the air like an arrow loosed from a taut bowstring.

Or a bullet from a gun, even. Sacha considered the discarded pistol for a moment. It seemed so useless now, just a hunk of metal and plastic, just a prop. He walked away without it, pain pulsing dully from his ear. His journey was nearly over.

Time dragged on as he walked, but not enough for him to find the space to contend with what he’d seen. That girl, that creature. She was no angel, that much he was certain of. Angels didn’t attack strangers with a knife, he didn’t think. 

What he wasn’t certain of was… just about everything else. Was he meant to understand that all these girls, these brood, were some kind of bird-beasts taking human shape? Was everyone he’d met an imposter masquerading in the form of a child? Or did they start out as ordinary children and then transform somehow?

He half hated himself for even entertaining such wild ideas, but he had little other choice. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth” wasn’t that so? In any case, speculation did him little good at this point. He could only hope that this paradise and “broodmother” the girl had spoken of could give him some answers.

Four]

Just when Sacha was beginning to wonder if the knife throwing angel imposter was fully fucking with him, he found his destination: The Paradiso Hotel, although the damaged neon sign now read only PRDIO. 

The building was tall and narrow, so wedged between its neighbors that it looked like any moment it might be crushed. The brickwork was crumbling as it was. Creeping plant life climbed the sides and snuck in through broken windows. The ominous, weathered shape of gargoyles watched from above, jutting strangely out of high corners. This place must have been in dire straits long before it had been taken over by the brood. At the same time, looking at it Sacha got the impression that it had been something glorious in its heyday. 

There was something almost inviting about the faint glow that came from the topmost windows, filtering pink light through heavy red curtains, and yet Sacha was terrified. His hands trembled on the railing as he climbed the winding stairway. 

The higher he went, the more his surroundings began to change. The carpet beneath his feet grew soft, damp, dipping slightly with his weight, and when he looked down he found it thick with patchy moss. Mushrooms sprouted from the junction where the floor met the wall. Sacha tore his foot from a tangle of roots he’d caught himself in and wondered, when was the last time he’d seen so much wild living plantlife in person? 

Finally he reached the top of the tower and opened the door not onto identical hallways and bland hotel decor, but onto a sprawling private library.

The detective could hardly see the walls for the shelves, lined top to bottom with books upon books upon books. There was a desk against the far wall piled high with precarious stacks of paper. They overflowed and spilled onto the loamy floor, whispering under his every step.

Beyond a towering skylight, storm clouds billowed, but that wasn’t of any concern to the flock of brood congregated in their wake. The scene looked like something rendered from stained glass, at least a dozen girls with wings of all colors stretched out and fluttering idly behind them as they sat around some sort of shrub or young sapling that was, quite impossibly, growing out of the floor. Its tender boughs bore tiny fruit, several perfectly round red orbs plump and shiny with juice.

The room smelled like a greenhouse, like heat and green growth, flowers and fruit. Intrigue drew Sacha nearer and he detected an undercurrent of something metallic as well. He rounded the desk and his stomach plummeted. The tree was not growing out of the floor. It was growing out of a human corpse nested in a bed of soil.

The Detective choked on a gasp and the brood children looked up. Their hands and knees were dark from their work. A flash of gore passed before Sacha’s eyes and he flinched, expecting to be struck down where he stood. When no killing blow came, morbid desire took hold of him and he took a second look. The tree was still there, and the body, but the body was not as he’d thought. It looked dry, mummified, more root than rot. Still staring, one of the brood girls plucked a berry and crushed it between her teeth. The smell intensified, iron and something sweet, heady as any wine.

One of the girl-beasts stood, and she seemed older than the rest somehow, not just in body but in her eyes, gray as the growing storm and so clear that Sacha feared if he looked too long he would fall through them. Her face was smooth and free of wrinkles or worry, but the long hair that fell about her shoulders was white as bone. She wore something like a shawl that hung lazily off her shoulders and down past her knees. Unlike the others, she had no wings.

“So you’re the one all my girls have been making such a fuss about,” she said, and her voice was a choir, her words an indictment.

Sacha felt a strange spike of anger at this creature that looked like a woman and talked like a mystic and was neither. “And you’re the broodmother, whatever that means! Your girls make you out to some kind of god. But you’re not a god, and you’re not their mother. I don’t know what you are and I don’t care. I just want to know why you’re doing this.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re- you’re taking them!” he stammered furiously. The pieces were coming together, albeit in a hectic jumble. “All the missing girls! You abduct them, or call them to you, or something! It changes them!” He flung his hand out towards the body. “You’re a killer! You're some kind of crazy death cultist and you turn these kids into killers!”

The broodmother quirked her head to the side, not quite smiling. “You talk with a lot of confidence for a man with only half the story.”

“Then explain it to me,” he demanded. “Make it make sense. Because I’ve been running around this madhouse all day and so far, nothing does.”

She hummed to herself, considering. “If you’re so eager for a tale, let’s start with yours.”

One of the other little brood leapt up and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Is it time for a story, Nightingale?”

“Yes, I think so. Do you know which book to get?”

“D for Detective!” she cheered.

“Very good.” 

The girl scampered off and returned with a big book bound in red. Nightingale took it and ran her thumb over the pages, flipping it open with a calm certainty that boiled Sacha’s blood.

“Let’s see… Detective Sacha Ferro. You were born in this very city, had a fairly normal childhood until,” She traced the tip of her finger along the page and Sacha noticed for the first time how it curled, a ghastly hook-like talon. “Oh, that’s right. There was an accident. Your parents… Tragic. Just terrible.”

Astonishingly, she sounded as though she meant it.

“You were in high school at the time. But your sister, Maria, she was still just a kid. You always struggled to relate to her as a brother, with her being so much younger than you, but after that day you had to become like a parent too. You really stepped up, it looks like. That didn’t change the fact that you were still a kid yourself. You made mistakes, and the two of you grew apart.”

Shame curdled in Sacha’s gut. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The most he was capable of was curling his hands into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“Get out of my head.”

“I’m not in it. Frankly, I’m not that interested in your editorializing. This is the truth. Now, where was I?

“You’d always dreamed of being a police detective, like the ones on TV,” she continued. “But became disillusioned with the idea once you grew older. So you became a private eye, but that too got old. You were tired of acquiring blackmail material for shady characters and helping angry wives catch their cheating husbands and so on. Meanwhile little Maria had grown up and moved on and the neighborhood you’d lived in all your life was going more and more downhill by the year. You wanted out.

“Then you got a call from a Mrs Gloria Deeds.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “She wanted you to track down her poor missing daughter. The Deedses were wealthy, desperate, and just perfect. You requested an advance payment, a big one, big enough for a down payment on a new life and the gas to get you there. They didn’t even blink as they pulled out the checkbook. It was all so easy.

“You took the Deedses money and you ran away. Forget the kid, chances were she’d turn up on her own in a week or two after getting whatever rebellious phase out of her system. That’s not what happened though, is it? More and more girls started disappearing. Renee wasn’t the first though, or was she? Could she have been the catalyst for all this? You’d never know for certain. The wondering ate you up inside, but not enough to make you turn back.

“You got yourself a new apartment and a regular nine-to-five job. You quit smoking. You adopted a dog. You started letting people in. You even called up Maria begging to be a part of her life again and shockingly, she agreed! You started spending weekends with her and her wife Kara and their sweet little girl Ana. Your mother’s name, wasn’t it? Well, anyway.

“Everything was all going so terribly well until just a few days ago. Nearly five years on the dot since you took the Deeds case and Maria calls you in tears, tells you that Ana has gone missing. You drop the phone, your blood running cold. She’s fifteen. Just a year or two and she’d be out of the target demographic. Neither you or your sister has set foot in this city in years. What are the odds she got taken? But you can’t let it go until you know for sure.

“Feeling frantic, you pull up the stuff from the Deeds case for the first time in what feels like an eternity. You do some digging. Renee Deeds was never found, nor were any of the others who vanished after her. The cops are still as apathetic and incompetent as you left them. They’re blaming it all on an epidemic of gang activity stemming from somewhere the locals have started calling ‘Orphan’s Hollow’. It didn’t used to be called that though, did it? Do you remember? How gutted you were when you found out? No way you could tell Maria where you were going. Back home, back to where it all started.”

“Stop.” Sacha found his voice at last, though to what end?

Nightingale looked up at him, feigning shock. “But don’t you want to know how it ends? Whatever does happen to the guilt-ridden detective trying to right a wrong? Hoping against hope that if he can fulfill the promise he broke that all of this will be set to rights, and little Ana will return home with him safe and sound.”

“Please, please, stop.” He covered his ears and felt the cut throb against his fingers.

“You’re not really in any position to be making demands, Detective. You came to me. You followed my song. It doesn’t usually work on grown-ups, you know, but you were always sort of a special case I think. I’m glad I kept an eye on you. This has turned out more interesting than I thought.” 

She crossed the room to stand before him, cupping his hands with her own. “You never really stopped being that kid, did you Sacha? You run and run and just keep him right there, locked away in your chest. Look at me Sacha. Look at me. You need to be a grown-up now. I don’t have her, Sacha. I don’t have Ana.”

Slowly Sacha’s hands dropped to his sides, his eyes wide and wet. “What?”

“That’s right,” the broodmother said cheerily. “Ana isn’t here. In fact, she’s at home with her moms right now. Maria’s been trying to call you for days now. You were too ashamed to pick up, couldn’t tell her how this was all your fault. It’s not actually, by the way. You were a self-serving bastard, but not enough to bring down that kind of karmic wrath.

“Although I’d’ve been happy to have her, Ana already has two loving mothers, and an uncle that… has his moments.” She patted him on the shoulder. “The children who follow my song aren’t like that. They come willingly, and they change because change is what they need. I won’t pretend it’s not a messy process. Sometimes blood needs to be spilled to create a paradise. But ‘be not afraid’, Detective. I would never let my little angels get hurt.”

“I still don’t understand,” he all but wept. “What about Renee Deeds?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Nightingale groaned. “‘What are you? What are you? Where’s the girl? Pow! Blam! I’m a big scary action hero and I’m here to save you or kill you trying!’” 

She shook her head. “You’re not the hero of this story, Detective. The girl you knew as Renee doesn’t exist anymore, but she’s alive, not because of your intervention, or lack thereof. Not even in spite of it. What am I? What is she? And what are we when we’re together? A thing that lives without your permission. You need to understand for it to be true.”

She looked at him then with all the sympathy of a mother comforting a crying child. She handed off the storybook to one of her young attendants, and as she turned around she swept aside the cover of her shawl to reveal her bare back. Her skin was twisted with badly healed scars, the flesh raised in the shape of two jagged cuts curving around the shape of her scapula.

“Here’s another story for you. Once upon a time,” she said. “A ship of men was cast from its course and lost at sea. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, they found themselves on the shores of a mysterious island full of the tallest, greenest trees they’d ever seen. The people there had wings like a bird, and they were so beautiful and kind that the men decided they must be angels, and this was paradise.

“The angels let them stay there a while and lick their wounds, but warned them that they couldn't remain forever. At first they accepted this, but as the time to leave for home grew nearer they became obsessed with the wonders of the island and couldn’t bear to go without taking a piece with them. 

“So enamoured by the beauty of the angels, yet fearing their heavenly wrath, they lured away the smallest one and imprisoned her in the lower decks of the ship. When she realized what had happened, she tried to escape, so they broke her wings until just moving them caused her horrible pain. She did get free in the end, but only once the ship returned to port and by then she was far, far from home and knew not how to find her way back. 

“She knew she wasn’t safe among the wingless people, so she hid herself away until nightfall, singing her song by the light of the moon in hopes that one day someone would return her call. When someone finally did, it wasn’t at all who she expected. It was a young human girl, a daughter of man, who recognized her song of pain and loneliness because these were things she knew well herself. When the angel and the girl finally found each other, the angel bid her to cut her useless wings and drink her blood, and together they escaped on new wings.”

As she spoke, the storm outside grew stronger until the wind rattled the very walls, knocking books loose from their shelves. The brood, with their many colored wings and many sweet voices, began to sing in wordless harmony, a hymn from such unfathomable depths and dizzying heights that Sacha’s legs nearly gave out beneath him. 

“Don’t be sad, my mourning dove. This is a happy story. The Nightingale fell in love with the Swiftlet, the song and the storm, and they carried each other to a place where they could make a new paradise, a garden of their own.”

That was when the ceiling began to cave in. Sacha fell to his knees and covered his head with his hands, blinded by what he was sure was a bolt of lightning. When he looks back on it later, he won’t be so sure.

Again came that sound, the torrent of wind and a hundred wings beating within it. Sacha forced himself to raise his head, squinting against the light, and there he saw dancing in the open air above the wreckage-- for dancing was the only way he could think to describe it-- a girl he once knew. Though they were less than strangers, especially now, he recognized her kind dark eyes, her secretive smile. 

Her hair was loose, a halo of electrified black curls, and her wings a dusky brown with the sharp, precise plumage of a swift. Her legs still didn’t move so freely as the rest of her, but she wasn’t bothered. She didn’t need them.

Nightingale ran and leapt and took her in her arms with a lover’s embrace. Off a ways behind them, their brood took flight as well, swooping and shrieking their delight as if they were a single entity, metamorphosing into something new, something so nearly divine.

Sacha did weep then. His vision blurred with the shape of his grief, then his longing, a child and a man and a hair’s width away from paradise. Eventually the storm subsided, but he didn’t see the angel and her love again after that. He thought perhaps that was for the better.

The sky cleared. The sun came out. Elsewhere, young girls planted gardens and played games and put on shows. The world went on, however changed.

This is where past and present collide. In the aftermath of a mystery, a man named Sacha Ferro picks up a book from in amidst the rubble and holds it up to the light. He flips to D for Detective and begins to read, anxious to find out what happens next.

Epilogue]

“Everyone settle down. Places! Starling, for the last time, ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ doesn’t call for a knife thrower.”

“And why not?” She wiggles the blade in her direction. “This show’s so boring. Everyone already knows how it goes. Let me spice it up a bit.”

Finch rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just, don’t jump ahead of your cue this time. And stop making up extra lines. You almost blew it last time.”

Starling sticks her tongue out but she has a skip in her step when she returns backstage. On the other side of the curtain, the audience is starting to take their seats. There aren’t enough chairs-- and most of the “chairs” are actually old boxes and things to begin with-- so some of them have to stand. An older brood allows Pajamas to climb up onto her shoulders, reminding her to be mindful of her wings, which are still fairly fresh and tender where they join with her back.

“Greetings, Princess,” says the fortune teller Resplendent, dressed in her good theatre clothes, as she sits down beside her. “Who’s this?”

Princess Ladybird holds up the dented ornament head. “This is Jessika. The doctors managed to save her but she needs an emergency body transplant, stat! I’m going to find her a new one after the show.”

She nods. “Greetings, Lady Jessika. I hope you have a speedy recovery.”

Ladybird holds the doll head up to her ear and hums as if in response to something.

“Can I hear too?”

She obliges, and Resplendent listens. There’s a quiet buzzing from inside the hollow tin skull and it echoes hauntingly in the emptiness.

She whispers, “There’s a bug inside of Jessika’s brain keeping her alive. That’s why she can still talk without a body. If Jessika dies, the bug will get out. Ick!”

The other girl chuckles. “Your name is a kind of bug, you know.”

“No! It’s a bird! Lady-bird!”

She bites back another laugh and points towards the stage. “Shh, the show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the songbird choir starts up, bidding the chattering spectators to quiet down and listen up. A girl comes out on stage wearing a corner of the curtain as a makeshift hood. She says,

“It is dark inside a wolf’s belly.”

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#180-171)

#180: Fernando Tordo -- Tourada (Portugal 1973)

“Entram guizos, chocas e capotes, E mantilhas pretas, Entram espadas, chifres e derrotes, E alguns poetas, Entram bravos, cravos e dichotes, Porque tudo mais são tretas,”

“Bells, cowbells and capes are coming in, And black mantillas Swords, big horns and defeats are coming in And some poets Brave people, carnations and swear words are coming in Because it's a wheeze at most”

Despite the title ("tourada" translates to bullfight in Portuguese), it's actually a portrait of a revolution in the making. The lyrics were so clever that the censors at the RTP didn’t notice these lyrics were reflecting the current regime.

That’s enough for a 250 appearance for me, but there’s more that makes the song so memorable.

The build with the brass and percussion sets the stage for something important to happen. Sometimes, I do forget I like this song, but listening to it like right now is an experience, like one entering the battlefield.

The last line, "And the intelligent man says that songs are over..." still amuses me, though it's quite cynical in that the intellectuals would eventually not believe in the movement.

Personal ranking: 5th/17 Actual ranking: 10th/17 in Luxembourg

#179: France Gall -- Poupée de cire, poupée de son (Luxembourg 1965)

“Suis-je meilleure, suis-je pire qu’une poupée de salon? Je vois la vie en rose bonbon Poupée de cire, poupée de son”

“Am I better, am I worse than a fashion doll? I see life through bright rosy-tinted glasses Wax doll, sawdust doll”

One of the game-changing songs of Eurovision, in that the general mood shifts from slow-tempo songs to a little bit of pop. The first ten contests had their share of good songs, but seem to blur into each other at points. Afterwards, the song quality rose, and they were better suited to the times.

Beyond the happy orchestral sound is something quite sad—a pretty girl who sings songs without experiencing what they mean. Gainsbourg was quite the songwriter, but it led to a falling out between him and France later on, because of the double meanings of the songs he wrote for her.

The drama related to France Gall and the contest didn't stop there. Kathy Kirby, the runner-up that year, slapped France when she won. Then her boyfriend broke up with her shortly after, and wrote a song that would be the basis of "My Way".

Quite interesting I must say, though I don’t come back to this song often.

Personal and actual ranking: 1st/18 in Naples

#178: Ajda Pekkan -- Petr'oil (Turkey 1980)

"Öyle gururlusun gidemem yanına Girmişsin kim bilir kaç aşığın kanına Dolardan, marktan başka laf çıkmaz dilinden Neler, neler çekiyorum senin elinden"

"You are so proud, I can’t come close to you I wonder who else suffers from your love You speak of nothing but dollars and marks I am so suffering because of you"

My 1980 winner is not only quite groovy and seductive, but also clever.

The 1970s had two major oil crises--one in 1973, and another in 1979. The first one was when OPEC withheld their oil from countries who supported Israel during the Yom Kippur, and the second one when oil production stopped during the Iranian Revolution, resulting in higher prices per barrel. Both resulted in low supply and increased gas prices in the United States; those who grew up during the era were less likely to drive as a result.

Petr'oil takes this issue and anthromorphizes it, as Ajda sings about the troubles of relying oil as a resource and as a partner. The belly-dance music also emphasizes the tension. combined with the percussion and strings on this piece.

While Ajda has since distanced herself from the song, I embrace it in all its charms. Plus it was heavily underrated in its year.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 15th/19 in Den Haag

Final Impressions on 1980: This year stands out a bit, for it had a number of songs dealing with a huge number of topics (including Belgium's "Euro-Vision", which made the contest go meta, haha). Alongside it, the production was a bit bare-bones, because of the Netherlands hosting it four years earlier, but it featured quirks such as a representative announcing their country's song, Morocco competing for the only time, and a steel band for the interval!

#177: The Allisons -- Are you sure? (United Kingdom 1961)

“Are you sure you won’t be sorry? Comes tomorrow, you won’t want me Back again to hold you tightly?”

The lyrics are quite smug, in that the Allisons warn the girl who plans to break up with them she might be sorry and alone. Not unlike with "If I Were Sorry", though there's a bit more charm and teasing towards their soon-to-be ex-, whereas the latter feels a bit more arrogant.

That said, it’s upbeat and almost lines up to the musical scene at the time (comparisons to Buddy Holly are not uncommon), and the musical run time just goes by so quickly (in comparison to other entries of the same era)! It's just a breeze.

Personal ranking: 1st/16 Actual ranking: 2nd/16 in Cannes

#176: Vicky Leandros: L'amour est bleu (Luxembourg 1967)

“Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Berce mon cœur, mon cœur amoureux, Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Bleu comme le ciel qui joue dans tes yeux.”

“Blue, blue, love is blue, Cradle my heart, my loving heart Blue, blue, love is blue Blue like the sky which play in your eyes."”

I think I first heard this in the intro to Eurovision 2006's semi-final. While the harp motif stood out, I didn't know where it came from. It was until when I watched the contest this song was in, which is strange because it was notable for having a Paul Mauriat cover which became a hit.

One of many classics which featured in 1960s contests, I like the innocence shown through the lyrics, which uses color and imagery to tell about the different cycles of love. The orchestration along the bridge was especially spectacular, as it provided a cinematic feel towards . Vicky’s accent sometimes gets in the way, but she sings this well and should’ve gotten a podium position.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 4th/17 in Vienna

#175: Kaija -- Ullu joy Hullu yö (Finland 1991)

"En edes halunnut sua omistaa En edes leikisti rakastaa Kaksi kulkijaa yhteen osuttiin Yksi yhteinen hetki jaettiin"

"I didn’t even want to own you I didn’t even want to love you We two travellers came across each other Shared one common moment together"

While I was watching Eurovision 1991, I liked the mysterious verses of Hullu yo, but I found the chorus a bit off, because it was punchier and more energetic. It also had that "minor-verse/major chorus" thing going on, which also made me uneasy with the song. With a few listens, I grew to like a bit more, because of its unique sound. It definitely sounds better with the studio cut versus the live, which shows off the failures of RAI's orchestra.

Another thing about the song, beyond its lyrics about a one-night-stand turned into longing feelings, was the choice choreography. Playing out the turmoiled relationship, it's funny to see how provocative it is, and that's after Toto's hilarious pronunciation of the song.

Elements of the live performance aside, it's still a jam which deserved better. Maybe it would've done so in the televote era.

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 20th/22 in Rome

#174: Francoise Hardy -- L'amour s'en va (Monaco 1963)

“Si ce n’est toi Ce sera moi qui m’en irai L’amour s’en va Et nous n’y pourrons rien changer"

"If it isn’t you It will be me who will go away Love goes away And we can’t change anything about that"

I was happily surprised hearing this for the first time. It was very melancholic, with an interesting structure between the verses and the chorus. The percussion also helps with the latter, and adds a bit of character to the song.

The fact Francoise wrote this classic gem also warmed me up more to the song, especially because she was from the ye-ye generation of singers (which are known for being young and upbeat). Yet she stands and sings her own composition in a serious, almost bored tone, without taking the substance of the song away

(That being said, I really need to listen to more of her songs; I've found a couple a month ago, though there's obviously more...)

Personal ranking: 2nd/16 Actual ranking: 5th/16 in London

#173: ABBA -- Waterloo (Sweden 1974)

“The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself...”

You don’t need me to tell about this, do you? It’s fun and timeless pop, with some cool costumes to boot.

For more interesting stuff for both, the song Waterloo was an actual risk for the contest--they actually had another song for consideration, the folk-influenced Hasta Manana, but turned to this instead. And it worked, of course!

For the clothes, ABBA apparently chose these glam-rock inspired costumes because in Sweden, one wouldn't have to pay additional fees if the costumes won't be used for normal wear. Both Anni-frid and Agnetha look great, nevertheless.

And as of the moment, my favorite ABBA song is "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Despite the poppy tone, it has a moody vibe throughout, and one knows the relationship is going to end on a bad note.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 1st/17 in Brighton

#172: Gigliola Cinquetti -- Si (Italy 1974)

“Sì, dolcemente dissi sì, Per provare un'emozione, Che non ho avuto mai,”

“Yes, I softly said yes, To feel an emotion That I've never had before”

My friend told me an interesting story about the lyrics—whereas the song Gigliola won with tells of a girl waiting to grow older to find true love, Si talks of the girl growing up and taking the plunge. So she interprets Si as a sequel of sorts.

So why does this beat Waterloo, in my opinion?

I like how the song starts—quietly, but with an interesting guitar part. The instrumentation builds well towards the "Si...", at which it gently but certainly blooms towards Gigliola's certainty on going with the man she loves.

The interesting part of it was how the song was censored in Italy because it was seen as "subliminal messaging" for a campaign on a divorce referendum that May. "Si" sounds like an endorsement for the "no" campaign, as it embraces being in love, even if it requires the death of another relationship.

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 2nd/17 in Brighton

Final Impressions on 1974: Definitely one of the most memorable years in the contest, if only for who won. The rest was a tale of two halves, with the first half being particularly good, and the other half bad (except for Si, as you can tell). And there were Wombles in the interval act, hehe.

#171: Eugent Bushpepa -- Mall (Albania 2018)

“Lot i patharë ndriçojë këtë natë Sonte kumbo prej shpirtit pa fjalë Vetëm një çast dhimbja të më ndalë”

“Lingering tear, light up this night Find your way out, to soothe my soul Just for one day make this pain subside”

Aren’t the lyrics to this so beautiful? They convey Eugent’s desire to be with his loved one so well, in both its pain and beauty.

The music really helps too--while the pre-vamped version was a whole minute longer, it also has a rockier edge to it. The revamped version cuts it down and cleans up the production, but it's still maintains the overall feel throughout.

Eugent is also a talented talented singer, which proved initial odds wrong and got Albania one of its best results! The bridge between the second verse and chorus has a great chord progression (which was given more space in the revamp), and he deserved qualification for that alone. And those high notes.

(Also, he's probably the best dressed guy of his year...good job Eugent, good job.)

Personal ranking: 7th/43 Actual ranking: 11th/26 GF in Lisbon

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series?

https://ift.tt/36oBhxO

This article contains spoilers for Loki episode 5.

Agent Mobius did say that time ran differently in the TVA but who could have imagined that the penultimate episode of Loki would arrive so quickly? Marvel’s Loki episode 5 “Journey Into Mystery” keeps up a streak of superb installments for this increasingly superb show. 

In this hour, Mobius joins the side of the heroes, Judge Renslayer has some questions, and Loki and Sylvie’s relationship continues to blossom thanks to the conjuring of an uncomfortable green blanket. Equally as important, however, is that “Journey Into Mystery” raises some big questions about the ending of this show and the future of the MCU. Questions like…

What is The Void?

This episode does a pretty good job of succinctly describing what the Void is. The Void is the end of time, itself. Since the Time-Keepers are unable to completely destroy matter (Theory of Conservation of Mass and all that), they send unwanted Variants to the end of the timeline to languish or be swallowed by a hungry monster (more on him in a bit). 

In Marvel Comics, The Void is something of an actual character. It is a destructive amorphous entity capable of both adopting a corporeal form and destroying the universe as we know it. During the Siege storyline, the Void even killed Loki, which then facilitated his “rebirth” as Kid Loki. See how this all starts to fit together?

What is Alioth?

In the world of Loki, Alioth is a big, hungry cloud monster that prowls the Void looking to consume yummy matter. It’s the TVA’s unwitting cleaning service, wiping out all the Variants that the TVA can’t eliminate. Classic Loki helpfully offers up the analogy that the Void is a shark tank, and Alioth is the shark.

Alioth of the comics was first introduced in 1993’s Avengers: The Terminatrix Objective #1. That same comic also introduced Ravonna Renslayer and features Kang the Conqueror as its central villain. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together. 

Alioth is considered to be the first being that broke free from the constraints of time. It’s no wonder then that it would make an appearance in Loki.

What’s Up With That Castle?

It’s about time a Marvel villain lives in an honest-to-goodness castle! While it’s still possible that this is a misdirect and this environment is not what it seems, for now it looks like episode 6 will be headed off to a spooky castle.

Interestingly, there are no shortages of spooky castles in Marvel comics lore. Perhaps the most famous one is Castle Doom within Doomstadt. Bet you’ll never guess who lives there! Yes, it’s ol’ Victor von Doom himself, Doctor Doom to his friends…of which he has very few.

Another notable abode is Castle Limbo, which serves as the home of Immortus, who was once Nathaniel Richards a.k.a. Kang the Conqueror. Look, Kang is a confusing character, so you’ll just have to trust us on this one.

What is Mobius’s Plan?

Thank the gods that Loki and Mobius finally embraced their destiny as best bros. Mobius leaves all the Lokis behind in The Void to return to the TVA. What does he plan to do once he gets there? Why, burn the whole thing down, of course!

It’s unclear how Mobius believes he’s able to pull off such a grand task. The TVA is an enormous bureaucracy with seemingly infinite moving parts. The only real weapon that Mobius has at his disposal is the truth. The truth changed his and Hunter B-15’s perspectives but can it do the same for everyone else? The only other named TVA employee that we’re aware of is Casey (Eugene Cordero). He seems like a sweet, non-confrontational lad. But perhaps that will all change once he realizes he’s been robbed of fish dinners his whole life.

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What Becomes of the Other Lokis?

The most pleasantly strange aspect of “Journey Into Mystery” is how many new Lokis it introduces. This hour features: Classic Loki (Richard E. Grant), Boastful Loki (DeObia Oparei), Kid Loki (Jack Veal), President Loki (Hiddleston), and Alligator Loki (uh… a CGI alligator). Naturally, each of those Lokis has their own official hashtag sprite on Twitter. 

Fittingly for their chaotic energy, each of the Lokis introduced in this episode have quite different ultimate fates. Boastful Loki betrays his Loki comrades, because that’s just what Lokis do. The subsequent scene of President Loki and his Void army battling the other Lokis is one of the best moments of this show yet. That causes our Loki to take off with Classic, Kid, and Alligator. When Mobius invites that trio to come back to the TVA with him, they decline because the Void is their home now.

Read more

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By Lacy Baugher

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By Matthew Byrd

That is the last we’ve seen of Kid Loki and Alligator Loki thus far but not the last of Classic Loki. The comic-accurate trickster returns to help Loki and Sylvie when they need it the most. He uses stunningly powerful magic to create an approximation of Asgard all around him, distracting the ravenous Alioth. Even Sylvie with her enchantress power is stunned by Classic Loki’s abilities. 

Is Richard E. Grant’s Classic Loki Really Dead?

Ultimately Classic Loki is swallowed up by the Alioth and therefore finally blinked out of existence. Or is he? It seems like he could have been utilizing the very same technique here he claims to have used to escape his death at the hands of Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War. “I think we’re stronger than we realize,” Loki tells Sylvie, so this would certainly be a case of that if it came down to it.

Plus, that leads us to the final and most important question that this episode raises. 

Who is the Villain?

Who indeed? There has been one name bandied about as the most likely Loki Big Bad. Before we get to him (and it’s absolutely who you think), indulge us in another theory. What if the villain of Loki is…

Classic Loki or Another Loki Variant

Richard E. Grant is kind of a big deal as an actor. It’s not every day you can find a seasoned performer who can portray a kindly exterior with some menace underneath. With that in mind, it’s possible that Classic Loki is a bigger character than he appears at first glance. This episode goes out of its way to communicate just how powerful Lokis can be. And when you combine that kind of god-like power with a trickster’s sensibility, it’s not hard to imagine that Classic Loki, or another Loki entirely, could be pulling all the strings. 

Kang the Conqueror 

While Loki confronting himself in the end would make for a dramatically interesting enterprise, the hard evidence at hand still seems to indicate that Kang the Conqueror is our real villain. The internet at large has been banging the drum for Kang the Conqueror as the ultimate Loki villain for weeks now and it’s not hard to see why.

This isn’t a case of collective delusion like with all of the Nightmare/Mephisto WandaVision theorizing, Kang really does seem to be a legitimate possibility. For starters, we know we already have an MCU actor for Kang in the fold already in the form of Jonathan Majors (Lovecraft Country). Kang was announced for Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania but doesn’t it sound very Marvel for the character to make his unexpected debut here?

In the comics, Kang the Conqueror is wrapped up in multiverses, timelines, and all manner of heady sci-fi nonsense that Loki is already invested in. In fact, as Reddit user u/Hpotter821 points out, one iteration of Kang in Marvel comics sought to become Immortus by eliminating all of his other Variants. It would seem that creating the TVA to police other timelines would be quite useful in that mission. 

Then there’s the fact that Kang has at least some level of crossover with just about every major character and element of Loki. Kang has a relationship with Ravonna Renslayer in the comics and is also an occasional rival of Alioth. The show is not shy about injecting Kang’s aesthetic into the proceedings. While ostensibly space lizards as Loki described them, the Time-Keepers do appear to resemble the classic Kang the Conqueror look a bit. And the TVA logo? 

Oh. Hey. I just noticed that the centerpiece of the Time Variance Authority’s seal totally looks like Kang’s head. 🤷‍♂️ #Loki pic.twitter.com/93QzNDVSbi

— Ken Plume (@KenPlume) July 2, 2021

Oh yeah, that’s Kang, baby.

Perhaps by this time next week, all of this Kang conjecture will look as silly as WandaVision’s Mephisto fever dream. It’s undeniable, however, that Loki has provided us with plenty of breadcrumbs. If it’s all a Kang-sized red herring, then so be it. 

Doctor Doom

This is a considerable longshot, despite the fact that we’ve wanted it to happen for a long time. Doom was at the center of Marvel Comics’ multiverse-shattering Secret Wars event by Jonathan Hickman and Esad Ribic, and the castle we see in this episode’s conclusion sure does look an awful lot like his humble Doomstadt home.

Every time we get excited about Doctor Doom or the potential Secret Wars threads embedded in this show, we’re brought back to reality by the fact that there’s virtually no way that Marvel would introduce arguably their greatest villain in a teasing series finale episode, especially not when they’ve got the Kang-centric Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania to tee up with Kang. Yes, we’re hedging our best by including him, but can you blame us?

Anyway, patience, Doom fans. The Fantastic Four movie is finally a priority for the MCU, and we should see that by 2023.

Kevin Feige

This obviously won’t happen but in the spirit of Marvel’s next Disney+ series What If…?, what if Loki and Sylvie arrive to the throne room in the castle and Marvel Studios head Kevin Heige is hanging out there wearing one of his trademark baseball caps? As witnessed in WandaVision and now Loki, this phase of Marvel cinematic storytelling is clearly about setting up a new multiverse of possibilities. What better way to introduce that multiverse than by completely breaking the fourth wall?

OK, so there are probably a ton of better ways but Feige would at least be fun and truly unexpected.

The post Marvel’s Loki Episode 5 Ending Explained: Who is the Real Villain of the MCU Series? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[recentanimenews]

FEATURE: The Best Naruto Shippuden Fight Doesn't Include Naruto

  This article written by Jared Clemons was originally published on May 22, 2020

  If you’ve ended up watching enough Naruto, you’ll begin to pick up on the overall style of the show. The way the characters look, how they animate, the specific colors used throughout the series, there’s a certain way that Naruto and Naruto Shippuden look through their combined first 300 episodes. On rare occasions, that style switches to help showcase a big fight, such as early on against Zabuza and Haku, Rock Lee vs. Gaara, and in Shippuden when the Leaf takes on Hidan and Kakuzu, Sasuke vs. Deidara, and others further in the series. This fluid animation style alters how the characters look and move, while also using more of a muted color scheme. Most notably, this is usually thanks in part to episodes that Hirofumi Suzuki worked on as the animation director.

  One episode that Suzuki worked on that sticks out by subverting the regular formula of Naruto is Episode 82 of Shippuden, "Team Ten." It’s not an episode that features any big fights, nor are there really any big conflicts between characters here. Instead, we see the inner turmoil that Shikamaru is facing following the death of Asuma. He’s skipping out on his funeral and just seems lost after the previous mission went horribly wrong. So, instead of creating another episode of Shippuden that is the same formula as everything else, Suzuki and the rest of the production staff decided to go in a different direction — one that is more likely to be seen on the big screen, rather than in television.

    Given the highly emotional aspects of where the story is, the episode does a lot to make you feel uncomfortable — to get you into the same headspace as Shikamaru — and at times almost makes the viewer seem like a voyeur. We’re essentially going through the same process as Shikamaru as we see him tell Kurenai about Asuma’s death, relay that to people in town, figure out his own emotions about what happened, and then come back from the brink and find a way to stand tall again.

  In order to truly get into Shikamaru’s mindset for this episode, the pacing slows to a halt. Everything is laborious and with a certain purpose to it. This is the kind of pacing and style you’d most likely see from a Naruto film or a more serious drama series rather than what you’d expect from a shonen series. It would be hard to pull off what this episode wants to force the viewer to witness if it was the same package that every other episode of Naruto Shippuden is. In order to pull viewers in and let them immediately know that something is wrong, you’ve got to disrupt their normalcy and their perception of what the series is.

    Throughout the episode, if you’re watching for the first time or just trying to pay attention to figure out what’s different, you’ll notice a few things. Most notable to me was the lack of camera movement. Shonen series and anything with action will rely on camera movement to make episodes have a fast pace to them. Instead, here we get only four shots that feature any sort of movement. Each one is incredibly slight as well. They’re not quick but are slow and subtle to where you can easily miss them. In fact, the first bit of camera movement doesn’t occur until nearly halfway through the episode, which seems striking for this series. Instead, we get a lot of cuts and shots that linger long enough that it begins to feel uncomfortable.

  One of the more striking shots in this episode is when Shikamaru and his father, Shikaku, play shogi together. There are cuts between the two as they begin to play, but then the camera goes to a side angle of the two playing and going back and forth with their moves. You’d think that eventually there would be cuts to each character as they place their moves and with Shikaku trying to tell Shikamaru why he shouldn’t beat himself up over what happened. Instead, the shot lingers. For two whole minutes. That’s not something that occurs in most series that are relegated to 24 minutes of air time. After all, camera cuts help keep the pace up and give viewers something new to look at. Yet, it fits the overall tone and style of this episode. You start to see Shikamaru’s emotions begin to get the better of him from this shot alone, and it’s able to tell that story in a better way than it would have if it was just the camera cutting between Shikamaru and Shikaku.

    That scene, and those two minutes spent looking at their shogi game, leads up to Shikamaru finally being able to break down. This brings up another strange aspect of this episode: This scene is the first time we hear any music in the episode and again, we’re nearly halfway through. Before, you’d hear a lot of natural sounds such as insects humming or the chatter of people in the streets as Shikamaru wanders through the town. Even with the addition of music for this brief instant, it’s again subtle and not overpowering. It’s another aspect of something that you could easily gloss over as it comes and goes very quickly. That might seem as if it doesn’t really fit the emotional nature of this scene given that Shikamaru begins to cry and wail in this room they were playing in, but it absolutely fits because the music is just giving the viewer the slight push to tell them this is emotional. That doesn’t need to overpower the scene when you’ve got a character letting out deep emotional pain at the same time.

  Perhaps this is why Suzuki and the rest of the production staff were tapped for this episode. Their style of animation that has worked so well for some of the biggest fights in the series works its magic for truly showing the emotional pain a character is going through. You’re able to see the pain and trauma rise up through Shikamaru’s face and then break through the levy as he’s finally able to let out all of his emotions and cry. His face distorts in realistic ways that wouldn’t have been the same if it was in the traditional animation or style. It’s the same kind of realistic expression that you would also have if you were in his situation, which of course is what the episode is trying to make you do. Become emotional and cry alongside Shikamaru.

    One of the biggest takeaways I had from this episode is how much Suzuki and the team’s style reminded me of Naoko Yamada’s way of directing. Yamada’s work on K-ON and specifically Liz and the Blue Bird are very similar to what we see in this episode. There’s a lot of lingering shots, little camera movement, and relying more on cuts to showcase what’s happening — and a soundtrack that isn’t overemphasizing what’s happening. You truly get to see what these characters go through, which is an aspect of directing that Yamada accentuates as she’s said she likes to “watch people” and “get into the minds of the characters.” Those are definitely part of what makes this episode of Naruto Shippuden work so well. You’re truly able to dive into Shikamaru and see what he’s going through, how he’s able to figure out what to do next, and then act upon it.

  The rest of the episode sees how Shikamaru is able to find an answer that gives him the drive to go out and finish the original mission and avenge Asuma. The pacing is still slow and methodical, but by the time we reach the end and Team Ten announces their plans to head out on their next mission while Tsunade tries to stop them, we begin to move back into the regular style of Shippuden as the music begins to take hold in a way you’d normally expect. In a way, this episode is able to pump the brakes on the whole pacing of the show, but then softly begins to accelerate by the end that lets you ease back into what you’d expect from the series.

    There’s truly no way you could do this kind of episode for a series as big as Naruto every week. Obviously, it’d take too long to maintain this kind of quality for 500 episodes, so you’d have an episode a month at best, but also the charm of these subversions to the series would wear off rather quickly. Instead, you’d have fast-paced, action-packed episodes that would serve as that. “Team Ten” is a special episode and one that rewards people for sticking with the series as it lets you truly see everything from a different perspective, from pacing, style, character development, to storytelling. It’s hard to argue that this isn’t one of the absolute best parts of the series and should be recognized in the same way that the best fights of the series are.

  What are some of your favorite episodes that seem to try and shake up the status quo of Naruto? Let us know down in the comments below!

      Jared Clemons is a writer and podcaster for Seasonal Anime Checkup where he can be found always wanting to talk about Love Live! Sunshine!! or whatever else he's into at the moment. He can be found on Twitter @ragbag.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[dermankey]

Lucas and the Vampire - Part 2

         Lucas arrived at Rose’s house promptly at eight fifty-five, the sun having set not too long ago and the moon in the sky. Stepping out of his dark crimson Cadillac, he was dressed in a buttoned down shirt with small green circles of various shades on it and a black pair of dress shorts. He originally thought to wear pants, but the night was much too warm for that.          The house that stood in front of him was just as Rose described it: larger than the other houses on the block and a deep purple with black accents. It gave off the feel of a haunted mansion one would see at an amusement park. Then again, Lucas thought as he walked across the lawn’s pathway and up the stairs, this is the home of a vampire.          The house had a large front porch, but there was not a single thing on it save for the welcome mat in front of the door that read “Welcome to our haunt!”. It made Lucas feel a bit unnerved but also a bit nervous, as the whole setup almost made the house feel abandoned. There was no doorbell, but a brass knocker on the door, which had a smiling styrofoam bat stuck to it. He took hold of it and rapped it three times, making it feel like the whole house was shaking.

         He stood there for a moment, and was quickly put at ease by the sound of incoming footsteps. The door opened, revealing a woman who looked like she had just woken up. She was wearing a Beatles shirt that was very obviously too big for her, nearly reaching her knees. Her hair was short and dark as the night, with her skin looking slightly paler than Rose’s did.          The woman at the door blinked twice. “Who...who’re you?” She asked, yawning mid-sentence.          “Uh, hello, I’m Lucas,” he greeted with a friendly grin. “I’ve come to pick up Rose.”          “...oh, yes! I remember you now!” She exclaimed with a laugh, sounding a lot more awake. Her accent sounded much stronger than Rose’s. “Rose told me about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucas! I’m her cousin Violet. Please do come in.”          The inside of the Bailey home was a lot more inviting than the outside was. In fact, it seemed relatively normal for a home of vampires. The main entrance entered into a living room that had the classic set up of a couch and chair, both leather, and a coffee table. Along the right wall was mostly a staircase, with a single doorway leading to what looked like a den. Across the room was another doorway that led into a kitchen.          “Rose!” Violet called up the stairs, “Come down! Lucas is here to take you out on your date!”          “Be down in a minute!” She called back.            “Well, I wouldn’t call this a date, really,” Lucas laughed awkwardly in response. “It’s just a...more like a night out, than anything else.”       ��  “Same thing, different name,” she gave him a sly smirk. “To-may-to, to-ma-to, as they say.”          Lucas gave a slight nod as a kind gesture. “So, is it just you and Rose in this great big manor of yours?”          “When she visits, yes,” Violet smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. “Usually it’s just me and the occasional guest that stops by. You see, I’ve recently begun renting out some of my unused bedrooms for a bit of cash, as it is not cheap to keep a house this big running. Fortunately, I’ve only had other vampires come in, so I don’t have to worry too much for breakfast for them, but there is still the odd human or werewolf who pops in. In fact, there was this one chap who came here a week ago and stayed here for quite a bit. When he was here, he and Rose had such grand conversations on vampire culture and—.”          “Vi, please do not bore my new friend so quickly,” Rose spoke as she descended the stairs, her voice and clicking of her high heels being heard before being seen. She wore a one-piece dress that was tan in color and decorated in a red floral pattern. While it did flow behind her, the front part of it was removed, revealing her legs that were covered only to the top of her knees. Her brown hair also appeared to be curled slightly, most notably at the bottom of it, and across her shoulder was a silver purse. “Not everyone is so intrigued by our lives as housemaids.”          “Oh, Rose!” Violet made a mock-scowl at her, and turned back to Lucas with a smile. “My apologies if I did bore you. I do tend to ramble on now and again.”          “It’s fine. Happens to the best of us from what I’ve seen,” Lucas assured. “Ready to roll, Rose?”          “Ready, indeed,” the vampire said with a smile. “And might I add you look rather handsome tonight.”          “Oh, uh, thanks,” Lucas blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look nice, too.”          “Oh, this old thing?” She asked playfully, spreading out the flowing part of her dress. “I just put this on when I want to feel pretty.”          Before they left, Violet called Rose back just as they were descending the stairs. From where he was, Lucas could not make out whatever she was telling her, but she seemed somewhat angry at Rose. Despite that, Violet’s expression softened and the two hugged, and Rose quickly rejoined Lucas down to his car.          “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Lucas began as they drove through the residential square, “what did Violet tell you?”          “Playing the nosy game again, are we?” Rose said with a smile. “Well, she just so happened to warn me that the Miller family has a track record of doing terrible, unspeakable things when they are alone with a woman.”          “I would—!” Lucas began defensively, then thought for a moment. “You’re joking, right?”          Rose giggled. “See, now you’re getting it. No, she just told me to be careful out here, that there are bad humans out in the night. Common big sister like stuff.”          Lucas nodded. “That’s nice of her. Are you two close?”          “Close? We practically are sisters,” Rose said with a laugh. “We have been together for as long as I can remember. We haven’t always lived together, mind you, but we have always kept in touch. She is all the family I really have left, and I really care about her.” She turned and looked out the window, the quiet houses replaced with the loud lit up stores as they entered the city.          “Are you...gonna be okay, Rose?” Lucas asked, turning to look at her as they were at a red light.          “Uh? Oh, I’ll be fine. It was years ago, anyways,” she assured him, and her smile quickly came back on. “So what is this hidden gem of a restaurant you hinted at earlier?”          “Just a little place called Pierre’s,” Lucas told her. “It’s a local restaurant, but it’s pretty darn good. And no, before you ask, it’s not French, it’s just the owner’s name. In fact, here it is up on the left.”          The front of the restaurant—which was the only part visible as the rest was embedded in the block—was made of a red-brown wood, with a single line of windows high enough to just make out the heads of the people eating inside. Higher than the windows was the name Pierre’s written in a golden cursive.          Fortunately, there was a parking spot along the side of the road not far from the restaurant, which Lucas quickly took advantage of. Inside the restaurant, square tables filled the majority of the room, with a single row of booths along the left wall. At the very back was a bar that boasted a large wall of drinks, as well as the doors to the bathroom and the kitchen, the latter of which had waiters popping in and out at a constant rate. The whole place was nearly full, with almost every table seated with people dressed both casually and formally, the combined chatter of them nearly drowning out the swing music that was playing.          Lucas walked up to the host at the stand. “Yes, hello. Reservation under ‘Miller.’”          “Yes, right this way,” the host nodded after checking his book, guiding the two to an unoccupied booth. A waitress soon followed after him, asking for their orders on drinks. Lucas ordered a coke, while Rose got a wine.          “Way to be the dutiful designated driver, Lucas,” Rose joked from behind the menu.          Lucas gave a small laugh. “Well, someone’s got to be it. I’m not really a big fan of liquor anyways. Maybe every once in a while, and on special occasions, but usually not when I go out.”          “Is not tonight a special occasion?” Rose asked, leaning over the table slightly, the menu now flat on it. “Or do you get to date beautiful girls every Friday night?”          Lucas’s face flared up as he tried to hide it slightly behind his menu. “Well, um...we were going to continue our conversation we had earlier?”          “Yes, I believe we were,” Rose agreed, rubbing her chin as she laid back on the cushioned seat, “Now let’s see. You asked if vampires still eat normal food, am I correct?” Lucas nodded. “Well, we can, but it does not do much, so we tend not to. Most of our strength and energy comes from drinking blood, and one would not need protein and nutrients when one’s body has stopped being alive. Sometimes, though, if we eat food often enough, we develop the feeling of being hungry again.”          “That’s interesting,” Lucas commented. “So, what about other stuff you like to do besides reading?”          “Other stuff?” She pondered, tapping the tabletop in thought. “I do like—oh, this is sort of embarrassing—but I do like to play video games.”          “Really?” Lucas responded, a smile coming onto his face. “That’s cool. Play anything good recently?”          “Oh, I know! How—!” She began somewhat dramatically, but stopped herself in surprise. “Uh, pardon me?”          “Have you played anything good recently?” He asked again, this time noticeably slower. “Sorry, I just talk fast sometimes. It’s something I’m working to get better at.”          “Okay, um,” Rose started again, seemingly at a loss for words, “I have been playing some of Dragon Quest XI on the Switch.”          “Nice. I haven’t gotten the chance to play that yet, but I want to!” Lucas said. “Never really was into the series before, but it piqued my interest when they put the Hero into Smash Bros.”          “Oh, yes! I have gotten into Smash, too, recently,” Rose replied, a smile growing on her face. “I like to think I play a pretty good Inkling.”          “We should totally get together for some quality Smash time, then!” He declared. “We’ll see how well you do against my Mega Man.”          The waitress soon returned to their table, their drinks in hand. She also got their orders: Lucas a classic reuben with fries, and Rose a New York strip. “As rare and bloody as you are willing to serve it,” Rose added. The waitress gave her an odd look, but nonetheless took the order and went off.          “The less cooked the meat is, the more blood remains inside of it,” Rose explained to Lucas as she sipped her wine. “Plus, it makes the blood taste like steak. That is a thing a vampire with experience only knows.” She winked at him.          “Cool. So, back to what we were talking about—.”          “Hold on there,” Rose stopped him with a raise of her hand. “You got the drink order round. It’s my turn to find out about you.”          Lucas smirked. “Alright then. Ask away! I’m an open book!”          “Ooh, my favorite,” Rose giggled to herself. “Where to start...I believe you said you worked at a comic shop?”          “Yep. Old Maelstrom Comic down on Blizzard Boulevard,” Lucas confirmed proudly. “I’m one of the founders there, actually.”          “Oh?” Rose said in surprise.          “That’s how most people react to that,” Lucas chuckled. “Me and my pal Regina started it up, like, six years ago. We got some pretty big names like Marvel and IDW selling at our place, and we even got some local comics on the shelves. There’s also something of an open mic night Regina started up a couple of weeks ago, which we run alongside some local card and video game tournaments.”          “Sounds like quite the all around comic shop,” Rose commented.          Lucas leaned back in his seat, looking wistful. “Hard to imagine that two kids like me and Reggie fresh outta college could start up a pretty successful comic shop. We even get people from outside Calume at our tournaments sometimes. Oh, yeah! We’re having a Smash Bros. tournament coming up in a couple of weeks. It’s gonna start pretty late, so you should be good to come.”          “I will see if I can be there,” Rose smiled. “Now what else are you into besides your silly comic books and video games?”           Lucas thought for a moment, making an exaggerated thinking expression that got a small laugh out of Rose. “Well,” he began, “I’ve started drawing again after I dropped it a year ago. I’ve gotten a bit rusty from not doing for a while, but it’s been fun being able to just draw whatever pops in my head.”          “An artist, eh?” Rose raised an eyebrow and bit part of her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t happen to have some certain...life drawings, would you?”          Lucas sighed, but smiled. “Yes, Rose,” he whispered to her. “I did draw some nude models. It was a part of my college drawing class.”          “Glad to know I’m dealing with an experienced man, then.”          “And just what is that supposed to mean?”          “Maybe you will find out when you are older,” Rose jokes, smiling as she sipped her wine. “Just know that if you ever need something to draw, you know where to find me.”          Lucas’s cheeks flared up, and before he could say anything the waitress returned with their food. “Are you sure you're okay with your steak being that rare, Miss?” She asked Rose, indicating the large streak of red that revealed itself when she cut open the steak.          “Yes, this is just fine. Thank you,” Rose confirmed with a nod and a smile. The waitress gave her another odd look, this time with a bit of concern, and took off without another word.          Even Lucas was looking at Rose’s meal with a raised eyebrow. “Jeez, it’d be generous to even call that steak cooked.”          “Remember who you are dealing with here,” Rose reminded him as she cut off a small chunk of steak. Instead of putting it in her mouth right away, she stuck her fangs right into it and a small sucking sound could be heard. Slowly, the red faded into pink, and before the pink faded all the way she dislodged her fangs and ate the piece normally. “I tend to not suck all of the juice out so there is still some flavor left over.”          “Huh. Rad,” Lucas chuckled, and began on his sandwich.          “Pffff, ha ha!” Rose barely tried to hold back the laughter. “Lucas Miller, of every human I have ever met, you are by far the most relaxed in response to my vampirism. If I may be so bold to ask, how is that possible?”         “Well,” Lucas paused as he swallowed the bite in his mouth, “you seemed pretty nice when we were first talking, and you didn’t really change your demeanor when you revealed you are a vampire. So I didn’t see any reason to treat you any differently if you weren’t gonna, like, suck my blood out of anything, heh heh.”         Rose did not laugh. “You seemed a bit too trusting there,” Rose replied as she cut off and sucked on another piece of her steak.         Lucas shook his head with closed eyes. “No, no. No offense to you, Rose, but I don’t completely trust you yet. You haven’t done anything to get me to not trust you, but you haven’t earned my full trust. Does that make sense?”          Rose took the steak chunk away from her fangs, any traces of pink completely sucked out of it. She looked up at him with a soft smile. “I understand, Lucas. So, got anything else that is interesting about you?”          The two continued talking over their meal, though discussion was sparse as they focused on their food. When they finished, the waitress returned and presented them with the dessert menu. Lucas passed, but Rose eagerly ordered a strawberry shortcake.          “What was that about vampires and not needing to eat food?” Lucas commented on her enthusiasm for the desert with a smirk.          “Oh, hush,” Rose playfully told him with a wave of her hand. “Shortcakes used to be my favorite desert when I was alive. They are one of the few things I still enjoy having every once in a while.”          “Alright, but now I remember something I wanted to ask you: when were you alive?”          A slight grin came to the vampire’s face. “I’ll tell you, when you trust me, capiche?”          “Fair enough.”          When the waitress returned, she had both Rose’s desert and the check, which Lucas quickly snatched up. When both were done, they headed out and went back in the direction of Rose’s house. “Hold on, turn right here,” Rose spoke up at an intersection, at which her home was usually straight ahead at. “I want to show you something.”          The alternate path took them to the outer edge of the residential area along a straight road. The moon was now visible and high in the sky above all the rooftops, giving a slight illumination to the city. “You can park right along there,” she pointed out to an open spot on the right side of the road.          “The cemetery?” Lucas questioned as he parked his car. “Um, any particular reason for coming here?”          “It’s nothing personal, mind you,” Rose assured him as the two got out. “I just find this to be a quiet place for an evening stroll.”          “Through a graveyard?”          “Well,” Rose asked, “have you ever been to a loud graveyard? Come on, Lucas, don’t you want to trust me?” She stood at the cemetery’s entrance, her hand extended to him.          Lucas gave her a cautious look. “...okay, I’ll trust you.”          He took her hand, and she playfully pulled him across the entrance’s threshold and by her side. There was a premade path in the cemetery, wide enough for two people to walk by in opposite directions. Save for the moonlight, the two walked together in near complete darkness, with Rose’s hands clasped behind her and Lucas’s stuffed in his pockets.          “Were you,” Lucas spoke with great hesitation, “ever...buried in a graveyard?”          “No, but being buried is part of becoming a vampire sometimes,” Rose stated in such a way that he decided to just drop the topic.          Eventually, the graveyard dissipated around them as they entered the next door park. A bench appeared on the path, and the two took a seat, looking up into the night sky that was empty save for the moon and the clouds that were lighter in color than the sky.          Slowly, Rose began nudging herself closer to Lucas’s side, until she was close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him tighten up for a moment in surprise, and she could so clearly smell the blood that flowed right under his skin. Her fangs were already out, part in anticipation and part in routine, and she exhaled with a smile on his neck, sending a shiver through him.          Just as she was about to say something, Lucas quickly started before her. “R-Rose,” he began a bit hesitant, “I just wanted to say I really enjoyed our night together. Probably one of the more enjoyable nights I’ve had this week.” He laughed a bit, and to her surprise she felt his arm slide behind her and around her waist. “You seem like a really cool person, and I’d, and I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe we could do something like this again? Something a bit more casual?”          Rose’s smile was gone from her face, replaced with a look of contemplation. Lucas’s face, on the other hand, had a healthy amount of blush on his cheeks and his mouth was curved in nervousness. Neither of them could see the other’s face as silence filled the air around them, save for the sound of the creatures of the night.          “...Rose?” Lucas asked.          Rose sat up and looked at him. “Lucas, your hand, please.”          He was confused for a moment, then realized. “Oh! Uh, sorry.” He retracted his hand from behind her. “I-I just thought that—.”          In another moment of surprise, Rose took his hand and held her free one over it. She mumbled something that Lucas could not make out, but as she spoke her fingertips glowed purple and a tingly feeling came onto Lucas’s palm. When she let go of his hand, he saw a phone number written onto it, accompanied by a smiley face with fangs. “Just a little something vampires can learn naturally,” Rose explained, “and don’t worry, it comes off with soap and water. Just make sure you get it down first.” She gave him a fanged grin.          A goofy grin came across Lucas’s face alongside his returning blush. “So, um,” he began as he stood up offering his hand to her, “how about something like this on Sunday?”         “Asking a vampire out on a holy day?” Rose sounded appalled, putting her hand to her chest dramatically. “You have quite the nerve, Lucas Miller.”          “I get the feeling you don’t really care,” Lucas replied as the vampire got up and took his hand. “I was never big into religion myself anyways.”          “That makes two of us then,” Rose smiled, and the two walked back the way they came, the air between them now filled with jokes and laughter and their hands together.

         “You can just drop me off,” Rose told him as they pulled up at her cousin’s house. “It’s pretty late for you, isn’t it?”          “Yeah, it is. Jeez, eleven already. Where does the night go?” Lucas sighed with a smile as Rose got out of his car. “Well, see you Sunday, then.”          “Until then,” Rose waved goodbye as Lucas drove off. She walked up to the path to the house and gave a sharp rap on the door with a single knuckle.          “Come in!” Violet called, and Rose did so. Her cousin was seated on the couch, wearing a gray college sweater and black shorts. She was halfway through some slices of toast and had the old widescreen TV turned on to a show with a black cat in a red cape on screen. As Rose closed the door behind her, Violet asked, “So, how was this Lucas tonight? Was he an adequate meal?”          “Actually, I let him live tonight,” Rose told her as she pulled off her high heels with a happy sigh.          “Oooo!” Violet replied with genuine surprise. “Is Rose finally feeling charitable tonight? Or has she finally given into her true desires?”          “Hmph,” Rose smirked, somewhat amused. “Don’t get any ideas, Vi. He merely amused me and nothing more, so I’ll let him live a little longer. I wouldn’t be one to give up O negative so easily.”          “If you say soooo,” Violet teased in a singsong voice.          “And I do,” Rose assured her as she began ascending the stairs. “Maybe if you're lucky, I can bring him here and we can share him.”