#barely methodical troupe

[phobos-vii]

Chimera and Venatio

The chimera hunt stands proudly in the city’s trifecta of arena sports, and is arguably the most popular. Unlike chariot racing and gladiatorial combat, the hunt does not place man against man. Rather, it is a uniquely cooperative exercise of a team of venatio combatting a single beast. In this grand spectacle, a troupe of seven hunters, all from the same school, work together in perfect harmony to slaughter their prey. Teamwork is absolutely paramount in this sport, as much as skill at arms and arcanum. It is said that while any gladiator might defeat any venatio, a team of hunters would always best a team of fighters.

Necessitating this extreme skill is the prey, the chimera. Mastercraft works of fleshcraft and biological arcanum, each chimera is a unique creation. Fleshcrafters revel in creating strange and monstrous beings, constantly honing their craft to create oddities that defy belief. At the present time, Lord Macro, an esteemed senator, holds a state monopoly on the right of chimera crafting. Every chimera is purchased from his estates under his watchful eye. The act of stitching, breeding, and rearing a chimera to completion is a costly and time consuming endeavor, and, accordingly, the price an Aedile must pay to purchase one for slaughter (even before paying the appearance fees for the Venatio) is exorbitant. As such, the chimera hunt is a much less frequent event, on the order of only a few events per month. Though it always fills seats.

Chimera hunts begin with a demonstration of the beast’s capabilities. A number of prisoners will be released into the arena for the chimera to consume, allowing the audience (and the venatio) to observe its unfettered abilities, as well as the field of play the Aedile has constructed. The venatio are granted a short duration to plan countermeasures, then they are unleashed upon their prey. Over the course of an hour or so, the hunters will whittle away at the monster until they finally slay it.

While the hunters are expected to triumph, it is understood that the best of hunts are those where the venatio barely survive. To this end, Lord Macro’s fleshcrafters have funneled their efforts into the creation of deadlier beasts: more cruel, more cunning, more durable, more dangerous. It is not unknown for one or more venatio to die in a hunt, but the athletes are quite skilled at keeping themselves and one another alive in the face of these increasingly monstrous entities.

As an unfortunate consequence of the fleshcrafting process, chimeras formed by Lord Macro’s methods all have a uniquely unpleasant odor. The force field that protects the audience from the chimera’s wrath (as well as stray shots from the hunter’s arcanum), also serves to filter out the smells.

[write-on-world]

The Impossible Players Keep It Real with True Tragedy and Comedy

As I sit in a darkened theater, surrounded by other enthused theater-goers, I find it difficult to remind myself that I'm sitting in a quaint little community theater that sits in the small historic district of Pueblo, CO.: the famed "Home of Heroes". For this place is not as it was when last I visited. Brought back by special invitation, I find myself awed by the transformation that this house of art has undergone since my last attendance.

The venue: The Impossible Playhouse.

The Plays: Bad Auditions by Bad Actors - by Ian McWethy, and The Candidate - by Brent Holland. Two one act plays that are brought to life by the self-titled "Next Gen Players", a troupe of talented youths that are brought to the stage by the Impossible Players as up-and-coming talents that may lend their skills to other productions in future. And they deliver!

The Impossible Playhouse, thanks to a group effort, opens the production in the wake of a fine new refurbishment since last I had the opportunity to visit the playhouse. Newly painted floors and walls, covered stained glass windows, a newly capped dome in the theater's main hall, and most impressively, fine red cushioned seats that provide comfort to the theater goers in attendance.

"It's like a whole new theater," tells one of the attendees to me as I survey the locale. "They've been trying to get the theater in shape for quite some time and I think they've done a wonderful job with the place. They've put in so much work here and we always have such a really good time. And the kids are always a riot when we come to these shows. We never miss," said my neighborly attendee.

The productions of the Next Gen Players, the brainchild of Mr. Darin Stuart, a longtime Impossible Players veteran, brings a new contingent of fresh talent to the stage that comprises a long list of theater veterans and a few newcomers. The cast, more than a dozen strong, bring to life the two separate productions.

McWethy's Bad Auditions entails the story of a young casting director and his favorite lackey in an attempt to cast the lead roles for the infamous Romeo & Juliet. Their problems are presented to them in a string of actors who portray all of the usual turnouts for a play that may be more real than one might realize in a theatrical setting: from method actors to actors that portray characters influenced by modern media. The audience laughed aplenty at seeing the characters on stage portray their respective roles to delight of the audience, which left several of them in tears.

Holland's The Candidate, alternatively, left the audience in a state of contemplation that would have made Philip K. Dick (We Can Remember It For You Wholesale) and James Wan (Saw) proud. The story centering on four characters who awaken to find themselves locked in a room with no memories of who they are and why they are there, only to discover that they are at the mercy of an unseen oppressor and forced to torture and berate one another. The objective: to slowly whittle down the group until only one "victim" remains. The conclusion left at least two of the audience with a barely audible, "Oh, sh*t," by the performance's conclusion. A mark of approval if ever there was one for live theater.

Well done to all of the cast!

The Impossible Players, famed as the oldest community theater west of the Mississippi, have utilized these two performances to open their 59th Season and show no signs of slowing down.

The performances of the Next Gen Players will continue August 19th, 20th, 25th, and 26th. Each performance begins at 7:30 PM (House opens at 7 PM) and Sunday matinees at 2 PM. are rated PG (Bad Auditions) and PG-13 (Candidate) respectively. Tickets can be purchased at the door or by calling in advance: (719) 542-6969. I also encourage the curious to visit the Player's website at: https://www.impossibleplayers.com/

[pocketbelt]

Blue Archive: Serenade Promenade (iOS)

Finally, the long-promised Trinity idols event. Alas, it doesn’t really linger on or do much with the actual idol event itself; the event story is undeniably a bit short this time around, with most of it focusing on Mari meeting other participants in the idol contest to get the bits and pieces needed for a performance before whirling to a (genuinely funny) climax more built around playing off of/reminding you of the tensions in Trinity’s governing bodies, and how they keep their fingers on their triggers.

And yet it’s still a fantastic event, just with less meat than I’d like; especially coming after the -Ive Alive! story, which uses a similar idea to brilliant effect. On the other hand, it has a good 8 "afterword" episodes with lots of unique art, whole CGs and all of the rest of the Trinity cultural festival; the Sweets Club’s hilariously poor haunted house café, bits about the idol performances of the Abydos pair and Utaha’s mission to spread the good word of enka, this fucking image:

And a lovely little episode where Rabu and her Helmet Gang buds get to hang out with Sensei for the first time and just have fun like normal students, which is a lovely little follow-up on their time in Say-bing (amazingly Rabu is still not playable despite being a boss fight and having a fully rigged and animated model accordingly for years). While I think there is good stuff to the main plot, it’s the afterword episodes that actually get it over the line, I think.

There’s as many of those as there are main story chapters for the event, so I guess it’s technically a meatier event than some lately, but it feels short because of the split. There’s still a bit of righting to be done to get back to where they were, but the character and humour are still powering through.

More under the cut about the main plot, but yeah, good event, there’s like just shy of a dozen alts they can choose whenever now.

Also most of the tourists for the cultural festival are depicted as Hyakkiyako students (and the Ninja Club show up explicitly in an afterword ep) and Trinity is very "Parisian"/French architecture and aesthetically styled so I now choose to believe Hyakkiyako students get "Trinity Syndrome" and came away from it depressed.

On the one hand I am disappointed that the idol part of it all is basically glossed over - the contest itself and its results barely factor, though there is an animated short of Mari’s group’s routine - but on the other it does use the premise to highlight that while Trinity recovered Volume 3, many of the underlying problems that fomented those events aren’t resolved. The whole idol plan is because Sakurako, leader of the Sisterhood (the Catholic Church, functionally, the nun girls), and Mine, leader of the Remedial Knights (the nurse girls) know they have image problems and want to resolve it by appearing more approachable and nice - Sakurako has a way of phrasing everything extremely sinisterly and smiles scarily and Mine frequently interprets the worst out of things people say to her and her method of conflict resolution is to piledrive her riot shield into people.

Mine’s one actually powered a short event a while ago, where some passing goons manage to drive her into combat and conflict with the Justice Task Force by just complaining to her about having items of mischief confiscated. Sakurako’s issue comes up in Volume 3 and other events involving the Sisterhood, but also her entire affection/relationship rank story is about trying to deal with it.

Mine’s combative way of talking and Sakurako’s unintentionally icy expressions make news of a public meeting "to decide a leader" (for their idol troupe) spread like wildfire, up to Nagisa, now lone leader of the Tea Party (until Seia gets back), who is still rampantly paranoid about the Tea Party being overturned in a coup and that paranoia causes all the escalation. Nagisa has yet to truly move past Volume 3, and Trinity remains on the razor’s edge - however, at least now, Mika is now a full voice of reason, which was delightful to see. There is an event for Seia due next anniversary, so it’ll be interesting to see if it touches on any of this or if it’s about her specifically.

It’s lots of fun character stuff, particularly with Nagisa and Mika, and it was also just funny to see that despite Mika being removed from the Tea Party formally and all that happened, the second Nagisa suspects violence is afoot she immediately desperately springs to get Mika and throw her at it (because there is not a force in Kivotos that can take her in a fight except, perhaps, Hoshino on her A-game - pink hair has all the power levels in Blue Archive).

There is something intrinsically funny about Trinity, academic realm of the literal angel girls (everyone has halos, but Trinity girls are the ones that have angel wings), named for a concept of unity and largely peaceful for the public is a nightmare of power struggles and paranoia in its institutions, the leaders always eyeing the others for weakness or for attempted coups, all of it ready to come down at a spark — and then Gehenna, name evoking imagery of Hell, academic realm of devil girls, is a place where the average student picks a fight for fun and sometimes nothing at all, home of two separate terrorist organisations (they’re school clubs!) and one criminal grunt outfit, has a rock solid governing institution comprised of a student council led by a comical idiot and a student disciplinary committee led by a ruthlessly efficient and immensely powerful girl who needs a step ladder to use the normal sized bookcases in her office, both of whom fuck with each other out of pettiness rather than any actual politics.

It’s a very fun contrast, is all, and this event contrasts with Hina’s in that way pretty well. Trinity almost has a civil war under a minute understanding, Gehenna has its leader’s attempt to greatly embarrass her rival publicly at a major cultural event backfire casually and no-one bats an eye.

I digressed a bit; the point was Serenade Promenade hits on that stuff well and the core issue of its plot - that Sakurako and Mine have bad but not necessarily unearned reputations because no-one running Trinity’s institutions can be normal for five minutes - dovetails nicely with the idol show and the aftermath of Volume 3. I just wish it spent more time on that and doing stuff with it.

[eleinwrites]

White Glove Treatment

1,000-word Flash Fiction writing challenge genre: spy location: a green room object: a juicer

Brief Synopsis: Senior Information Analyst Manuel Rodriguez has a history. An assassination attempt is not going to stop him from doing his job.

“What are you doing here?” It was possible the beautiful young man did not intend to be rude, didn’t care enough to be actively rude. Or maybe he was angry about an extra person in the green room when he had expected to see only other performers.

The green room was where theatre performers were invited to relax and let down their guard.

The Agency took advantage of that, maintaining surveillance on the stream of international performers. Traveling troupes were a traditional method to transport spies. Actors and spies shared skills and the need to interact with people of all social statuses. Even heads of state attended the theater and often enjoyed beautiful bodies in their beds. What more could a good spy desire?

"My apologies, Señor. The electronic juicer broke and I'm here to work the mechanical one until it is fixed."

“I suppose. I want pomegranate juice.”

“Immediately, Señor.”

The electronic juicer previously kept next to the fresh fruit had made a whirring sound that acted like a white noise generator as far as the hidden microphones were concerned. So it had been replaced with a mechanical juicer, plus an attendant to man it. Manuel had pointed out the idiocy of using a person to allow the microphones to work, but he had been overruled.

Manuel wore white gloves and used a sharp knife to slice the pomegranate in half.

He placed one half into the juicer and hauled down on the lever.

Juice gushed into the cup below, then trailed off to individual drips. He ignored the fine mist that sprayed out, slowly staining his gloves.

It would have been cleaner to use his bare hands, and more honest to use rubber gloves.

Instead, he wore white gloves that hid the old scars on his knuckles. He also understood eleven languages, but was currently pretending to know only two.

The green room was not actually green. That seemed like a good metaphor. Perhaps symbolic of how the actors weren't necessarily actors, except in the way that all the world's a stage.

Senior Information Analyst Manuel Rodriguez had more important things to think about than the meaning of the color of the walls.

There was no reason modern technology couldn’t compensate for a common kitchen countertop device. The previous audio recordings had been unusable, but Manuel was suspicious of how readily the blame had fallen on the juicer.

He removed the empty rind, tossing it into the trash can below the table, hidden from view by the long tablecloth. Then he put in the other half.

“Your pomegranate juice, Señor.”

“Hmm,” the man accepted the glass and took a sip. He had already performed and wasn’t concerned with getting red-stained lips.

Manuel hadn't worked in the field for decades, and the field had changed in that time. It was difficult to judge when to be suspicious. When he'd first been recruited from a drug cartel to turn evidence, he never thought it would lead to a career in espionage. Or, “counter espionage” as the politicians liked to say to calm their moral qualms.

Manuel still had a price on his head from those days, which was why he so rarely worked in the field. The price had only gotten higher as his career progressed. Staying in the office listening to bugs was both safer and more effective use of his time.

He cleaned the juicer, dropped his juice-stained gloves in the trash with the rinds. He was in the process of pulling on new white gloves when the man threw his still half-full juice glass at Manuel.

Manuel batted the glass back at the man, his fingers still tangled in a glove, but the sudden attack forced Manuel to step back against the wall.

The man leapt over the table and grabbed Manuel’s own knife to slit his throat.

Manuel worked in espionage as a spy, not an assassin. Most spying these days was done electronically.

Knowing how to fight wasn’t something he put on his resume.

Which might be why the assassin seemed surprised when Manuel dodged his strike, and guided the knife into the drywall.

This assassination was both too well planned and not well enough. Nothing official would have been this sloppy, or risked a long-term surveillance location.

There was a mole in the office, someone who could tamper with the recording and blame it on the juicer, and wanted to get Senior Analyst Rodriguez back in the field. Set him up to be assassinated without getting their own hands dirty.

He couldn't do any of the fancy moves, but he knew distance and angles. The debilitating strikes missed him by half an inch, but that was all he needed them to miss him by.

The assassin was young and strong and skilled, but Manuel was old and heavy with both muscle and experience. Once it turned into a grapple in the confined space behind the table, it was over.

He snaked his arm around the man’s throat and choked him out.

Manuel dropped his most recent gloves into the trash along with the prior set, and pulled on a new pair.

When the assassin woke up, Manuel would have some questions about who exactly had set him up. But in the meantime, he had a job to do, which included cleaning up the pomegranate juice that had been splashed so liberally, and masked any blood stains from their brief fight.

He hogtied the assassin with twine and packing tape, and gagged him with a dishtowel.

When more performers entered, Manuel was replacing the tablecloth. No one noticed the assassin tucked among the supply boxes. When they asked him where the other performer was, they spoke in Hungarian and he shook his head as if he didn’t understand. They discussed among themselves that the other dancer should work harder at socializing with the troupe, but seemed otherwise unconcerned.

Manuel made them fresh orange juice as he returned to the traditional role of a spy: eavesdropping.

[saint-starflicker]

I think you are on to something. I wrote a long-ish thing here about Richard Stirling, character construction on a spectrum between "so relatable and realistic that real-life people that knew the author now hate the author" and "obviously in service to the narrative and obviously a fictional character" (spoilers for The Secret History by Donna Tartt and the Dead Poets Society movie.)

Obviously Richard Stirling is the latter. I did not sense any moral crisis surrounding his murder...like...everybody needed him murdered, and the only reason they're "haunted" is that they didn't do that soon enough. I read it as they're recovering from the abuse he heaped on them, not so much with wrestling with the moral injury of What Have We Done, or redefining what sort of people they are who would do this thing, or growing into awareness too late that Dark Academia Richard was a fellow human being in need of patience and understanding. No, we'll have none of that. Dance on his grave.

Maybe there's a little teeny tiny bit of "redefining what sort of person am I now; who would do this evil horrible thing?" in James and Alex.

But that all has to do with how some part of them all crumbled under the pressure of their typecasting.

With Meredith I think it intersects a lot with her gender. She has a lot in common with Ivy Robinson from Bare: a Pop Opera, including the very detailed and involved fandom reasoning for how the world's view of her gender interacts with the situation that she's in, and her internal sense of her own (sapphic) sexuality, and what she does about all of it. I'm borrowing from B:aPO discourse a lot for Meredith's characterization, (rather than Alexander Avila's video essays methods for queer readings and intersectional interpretations) but TL;DR for Read More—it's Oliver telling the story so I actually don't know, because damn him Oblivious Marks. Opposite of Captain Obvious, Marks. But the intersection of Meredith's gender in society, and the requirement to perform what's in a thespian to perform, I think does at least cast doubt on the sexual orientation that she's been performing.

Meredith got a good grade in woman. Wren found a niche in which she's safe by staying cute and small—an eternal girl, rather than doing the work of defining womanhood—while Pip is "not like other girls" but not in a bad way; Pip can delegate girlygirl tasks to the experts at femininity, they keep the universe balanced—or she can be a dilettante of femininity some days, as suits her. (By the way, "I'm not like other girls so I have to delegate these girly tasks to other girls, and consult their expertise when crucial knowledge of gender in society is lacking in me" should be more of a trope. I think the world still needs a Not-Like and Other-Girls alliance. Or the other way around, the Merediths and Wrens of the world need to consult and delegate to the Pips sometimes.)

But Meredith and her hourglass body and Jessica Keenan Wynn bone structure I think means if she had Wren's personality (sensitive, social, in want of reassurance, diminutive and quiet, here for wholesome fun) then it's unlikely anybody would give Meredith what she needs or as much of it, and it's unlikely most people would leave her alone when she doesn't want attention or interactions, and it's unlikely anybody would really believe her if she tried to tell them she was sensitive and feeling fragile—or that she's in an abusive relationship.

So she can't be like Wren even if she feels like it, and she can't do what Pip does even if she wanted to. She doesn't have those freedoms. Meredith's gender presentation has her living pretty much mostly under surveillance. She can't get offstage and out of character and be just another figure in the crowd: she's too beautiful to be thought of that way. (And as per my previous essay, Projective Identification is a big thing with this theater troupe.) She's had to grow a spine whether she was that way or not, people have probably seen her as "a big girl" since she was a very young teen.

That's a curse of beauty. She's "a big girl", a grown woman who looks like she can take care of herself, she can devastate the most warriorlike heterosexual gym bros with a nose-wrinkle and a whispered "Ew", so—the world in all its patriarchy and misogyny says—if she's getting beaten up by her boyfriend, no she isn't, but if she is, and if I remember the culture of 1997 correctly, "that would be kinda hot though".

The world tells her she's not a person, she's a sex object. She got a good grade in woman, but in a patriarchy. "If she's getting beaten up by her boyfriend, no she isn't" because people think somebody who looks like that can just sashay away and get her a relatively nicer guy...and then everybody's outraged that she actually did what was expected.

I imagine she's danced with the pressure of interacting with men in this very specific way of unspoken expectations and rules, like the rest of us lower on the optic hotness scale dance with the air when we inhale and exhale.

But so...just because she gets with guys, did she want to though? Want as in like the yearning ache that goes deeper than muscle and bone, like some sharp thing had ripped a little hole right through her chest—that kind of want?

...Or was the world telling her that that's what women that look like her are always supposed to be doing, gettin' with the manly men—and she believed that, so she did it?

She could still be straight in addition to performing as hetero. She could be bisexual. She could be ace. But it's Oliver telling the story, so with the limitations of this framework, I actually as a reader do not know.

I do think the situation does cast doubt at this juncture that what we see with Meredith is exactly what we get—because societal expectations heaped on people that look like Meredith are already contradictory and impossible, and also because she's exactly at the fissure at which the dynamics of their typecasting began to break.

And finally because nobody who had anything more to lose in 1997 is going to think about their own emerging repressed queerness...when we've got to memorize lines and wrangle funding for our final university year and suck up to the teacher...and that's just so much more work that we have to think about—and that personal work is unrewarding and that we don't need. The obvious course of action is not to think about anything about yourself or your wants that's going to complicate things in an already high-pressure situation...right? Oliver.

meredith gives off strong lesbian vibes in this essay i will

[thewidowstanton]

The Widow’s Best of 2019

Welcome readers to our Best of 2019 round-up. Some of you might remember that when one half of The Widow, Liz Arratoon, started writing about the circus 25 years ago – with Widow other half Adrian Arratoon by her side – she was almost a lone advocate for the art form. Don’t you get jaded, people ask us. Absolutely not! But we do long for something a bit different, and this year we have been disappointed that so many circus shows and acts have started to look a bit similar and yawny.

One notable exception gets our Best Show, and we did love Company Soralino’s clowning with cardboard boxes, and Mizuki Shinagawa on silks at the 40th Cirque de Demain festival, but we have cast our gaze beyond circus to take in whatever else has taken our fancy. Just to remind people, and before any more sensitive hearts are broken, anything we have seen this year, no matter when it was created, is eligible for selection, but if we haven’t seen it, it isn’t. Our list, our rules, and, in no particular order, here it is. All shows are in London unless otherwise stated.

BEST SHOW: We really enjoyed Aurelia Thierrée’s Bells and Spells at the Norfolk & Norwich Festival, but our Best Show is La Nuit du Cerf (A Deer in the Headlights) by Cirque Le Roux, seen on French TV. This is the company’s follow-up to The Elephant in the Room, and new cast members Valerie Benoit and Mason Ames join the original troupe of Lolita Costet, Yannick Thomas, Philip Rosenberg and Gregory Arsenal. Together they showcase a sophisticated and exquisitely choreographed blend of top-flight acrobatics, handstands, hand-to-hand, roller-skating, tight wire, you name it, in a totally fresh and exciting presentation, all backed by a wonderfully eclectic soundtrack. If only more companies could come up with something so innovative.

FEMALE ARTIST OF THE YEAR: Extraordinary acrobat Esmeralda Nikolajeff, part of the line-up for Barely Methodical Troupe’s third show, SHIFT, which opened the London International Mime Festival at the Platform Theatre.

MALE ARTIST OF THE YEAR: Wes Peden, juggler, who had a scintillating guest spot in Gandini Juggling and Alexander Whitley’s show Spring at Sadler’s Wells. Don’t miss his solo show Zebra at the Southbank Centre’s Purcell Room during the London International Mime Festival in January 2020.

BEST GIG: Le SuperHomard in the library at the Institut Français as part of the Music Rendezvous season, and Durand Jones and the Indications, seen at the Southbank Centre’s Queen Elizabeth Hall during Meltdown.

MOST ENTERTAINING: Lucy Worsley’s talk about Queen Victoria at Southwark Cathedral.

BEST VENUE: The Poodle Club in Sydenham. 

BEST ACT: Foot-jugglers Marina and Svetlana Tsodikova, who are the Crystal Ladies in Cirque du Soleil’s Totem. They also get MOST GLAMOROUS.

BEST COSTUMES: Alejandro Gómez Palomo for The Male Dancer, choreographed by Iván Pérez, seen on the Arte app; Jean Paul Gaultier’s Fashion Freak Show (pictured below) seen at the Folies Bergère in Paris, and Queen Victoria’s crown, designed by Sheila Hay for A Night with Thick and Tight at the Lilian Baylis Studio, during the London International Mime Festival.

BEST INTERVIEW: Alec Baldwin’s chat with Elaine Stritch on his podcast Here’s the Thing.

BEST MAGIC TRICK: Shin Lim, winner of America’s Got Talent: The Champions 2019, doing card tricks.

LOUDEST GASP!: This photo of Joan Crawford, seen on @cjubarrington’s glorious Twitter account, where he posts vintage photos of Hollywood stars.

BEST MOVE: Anything by world champion football freestyler Liv Cooke.

BEST CASTAWAY: Living legend John Cooper Clarke on Desert Island Discs on BBC Radio 4.

BEST GOWN: Kathleen Nellis’ fabulous recreation of Marlene Dietrich’s ‘naked’ dress for Peter Groom’s show Natural Duty, originally designed by Jean Louis. Peter also wore it in Dietrich: Live in London, seen at the Crazy Coqs, Live at Zédel, for which he gets BEST CABARET.

MOMENT OF WONDER: Andy Goldsworthy throwing handfuls of snow into the wind in the documentary Rivers and Tides.

BEST LOOK AT THE MET GALA: Harry Styles wearing a sheer Gucci blouse!

HOTTEST TICKET: Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s solo triumph, Fleabag, at Wyndham’s Theatre, and, yes, we did speak to Andrew Scott this year!

FUNNIEST PERSON: David Mills, who stormed New York with Bitter Endings, but we saw him at the Poodle Club. Someone! Book this show for London!

BEST DANCE: The Seasons’ Canon choreographed by Crystal Pite at the Opera Garnier, seen on the Arte app.

BEST SET: Anna Reid’s simple, stylish and effective design for The Sweet Science of Bruising at Wilton’s Music Hall.

BEST SHOWBIZ STORY: The Man Behind the Microphone, first heard on Outlook on BBC World Service. The story of how filmmaker Claire Belhassine discovered that her unassuming Tunisian grandfather, Hedi Jouini, had been a singing megastar. Then we found the film of the same name.

BEST DOCUMENTARY: Liz Garbus’ 2016 Leave Nothing Unsaid, in which Anderson Cooper interviews his remarkable mother, Gloria Vanderbilt, about her life. Devastating and moving.

MOST FLAMBOYANT: Zack MacLeod Pinsent, who dresses like this all the time!

BEST SHOWBIZ BOOK – MALE ARTIST: Me by Elton John with Alexis Petrides.

BEST SHOWBIZ BOOK – FEMALE ARTIST: Dreamgirl: My Life As a Supreme by Mary Wilson… of the Supremes, with Patricia Romanowski and Ahrgus Juilliard.

BEST AUDIENCE: Ah, woof!

MOST NOTABLE ANNIVERSARIES: Ten years of The Double R Club, which was founded by Benjamin Louche and Rose Thorne, and runs at Bethnal Green’s Working Men’s Club, and three years of Cabaret vs Cancer, the registered charity started by Rose.

BEST VINTAGE CIRCUS PICTURE: Coo!

BEST FILM: Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman – which should have won the Oscar – and Olivia Wilde’s delightful teen comedy Booksmart.

BEST FILM SCORE: Out of Blue by Clint Mansell.

MOST IMPRESSIVE MEMORY FEAT: An hour and 40 minutes’ worth of words spoken by the one and only Maggie Smith, who returned to the stage in A German Life at the Bridge Theatre.

MOST ALLURING: Dina Martina, seen at Soho Theate Downstairs in Forgotten but Not Gone.

MOST MISSED: Agnès Varda, Clive James (born Vivian Leopold James!), and the French TV variety show Le Plus Grand Cabaret du Monde, hosted by Patrick Sébastien, which started in 1998 and ended this year.

GONE FAR TOO SOON: The creative genius Nell Gifford, co-founder of Giffords Circus, who died at 46.

MOST ANTICIPATED: Obviously Wes Peden’s previously mentioned Zebra, and Daniele Finzi Pasca’s latest creation, NUDA, premiering on 11 September 2020 at LAC, Lake Lugano in Switzerland.

Look out for our first interview of 2020, with Scottish aerialist and acobat Lauren Jamieson, who has a PhD in chemistry but gave up her science career to focus on circus full time. She will appear in The Feathers of Daedalus show Tarot during the Vault Festival 2020.

Picture credits: Company Soralino, Valérie Thénard Béal; Wes Peden, Pierre Feniello; Peter Groom, V’s Anchor Studio. Any we’ve missed, please let us know.

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

© thewidowstanton.com

[abbacchiosbelt]

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Feitan is not outwardly affectionate in conventional ways, nor does he love his darling in the traditional sense. He may occasionally pat their head, or give their thighs an affectionate squeeze. His affection is more tangible - a fresh set of sheets on your shared bed, a new book, stocking up on foods you like, taking his victim for the night to the outdoor shed so you don’t have to hear them… Acts of service are his main way of showing that he’s fond of his darling. 

It can feel overbearing if his darling is still getting used to being under Feitan’s thumb. He’s often brusque and appears uncaring, so to experience him doing ‘nice’ things can be a bit alarming. It’s best to accept his affection, though, or he’ll get annoyed - and an annoyed Feitan is not ideal.

In the bedroom, it can get quite intense. Feitan already enjoyed marking up his darling, but an actively ‘in love’ Feitan wants to mark every inch of them - half possessiveness, half his twisted form of love. Though he has a variety of methods at his disposal, straight-up biting his darling to mark them feels the most intimate to Feitan.

[ Continued under the cut. . . ]

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

The way Feitan exposes his heart to his darling is through his acts of service for them. He doesn’t just do mundane things for anyone - and for his darling to survive long enough for him to want to do those things speaks for itself. Feitan isn’t one to candidly speak about his feelings, so he expects his darling to figure out his intentions. 

He’s not vulnerable at all. There’s no vulnerability left in Feitan after growing up in Meteor City. The only time it might come to the surface is if his darling is killed - then, he’ll feel free to unleash his true emotions. No one except the person (or people) he’s killing will get to see them ever again. Feitan is not one to dwell on his loss, but members of the Troupe might notice that he’s more aggressive when fighting for a long while after his darling is killed.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Feitan… didn’t think that far. He kidnapped them, and that was that. He assumed he’d become bored of them soon enough, and figured it was better just to kill them when it was time for him to move on to a new safe house. When he finds himself still interested in them several safe houses later, he realizes that he actually likes them as more than just a temporary plaything. Not thinking about his future is par for the course for the Spider, and he’s not going to change that for a long-term darling… But he may, at the very least, cobble together a little life together with them over time. Feitan will come to prepare a bag of possessions that always go with them, even in the case of a hasty evacuation. (It has their favorite books, Feitan’s favorite outfits for them to wear, a few mementos of theirs that Feitan stole before kidnapping them, and some other various trinkets - things that can’t be replaced.)

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Feitan is reminiscent of an old, feral cat. His darling dare not approach him unless he approaches first, and they must be cautious still. One wrong word or look can set him off, and he lashes out with slaps or scratches when he’s feeling especially annoyed. Feitan approaches when he’s ready, whether it be to initiate conversation or intimacy. He’s content to sit in (what he feels is) comfortable silence for long stretches of time, and can go days without uttering more than a few words.

And too, keeping with the old and feral cat attitude, Feitan is likely to be physically affectionate while his darling is asleep. (And in the early days, he may initiate this state more often by drugging their liquids.) If they’re asleep, Feitan is likely to stroke their hair, or press his lips to theirs, or even explore their body. He’s more interested in being physically intimate when he can see their reactions, but being able to simply stare at their nude form while they sleep excites him in a different way. They’re so vulnerable - he could kill them any time… But he doesn’t want to. 

And eventually, after much time, he will begin to let his darling come to him. (You know… like an old, feral cat.)

[villainbait]

Possession

Prompt: (requested by @ravenina14 ty for request ♥♥) female reader was watching chrollo on a date because she’s jealous and the date is chrollo’s way to test the reader because he likes her too.

A/N: I took some liberties with this but I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize if I write Chrollo a little differently. ♥ I’m also so sorry it took me this long, I’ve had a stupid busy week. 

Tags: R, mdni, mildly yandere reader, playful chrollo hc, dirty talk, fingering, public sex, bathroom sex, caught in the act, no beta, 

You sat a few tables away in the carefully crafted disguise Hisoka had helped you with earlier, methodically swirling the wine inside of your glass. Your teeth were aching from how hard you clenched your jaw as you watched the strange woman’s fingers glide over the back of Chrollo’s hand in a flirty, intimate gesture. You could barely stomach to watch as he turned his hand over to lace his fingers with hers. Fingering the knife strapped underneath the garter on your thigh, you considered that maybe you’d remove that hand first, before you- 

Jealousy was eating you alive the longer you spied on the pair, hardly able to stand to see Chrollo accept such affection so casually from another. It was enough to make your blood heat dangerously, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself lest your blood lust slip free and give you away. 

How dare he?

After crooning sweet nothings into your ear for months and all of the shallow promises, you now find him with another woman at the restaurant he took you on your first date to? The audacity of this man. You drained your wine glass quickly in a jerky motion. It was barely enough to keep you from marching over to the table and making a bloody scene.

Ignoring the sharp pang in your chest, you instead focus on picking apart his behavior while you decide how to approach this. He had been acting strangely this last week...well, more than usual. The wall he had suddenly erected between the two of you had been surprising to say the least, and you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t hurt. You realized how much you’d come to care for the troupe leader, and you thought he had felt the same. Obviously, you were wrong.

She suddenly laughed loudly at something he said and you found yourself wanting to tear her throat out. 

Watching as Chrollo excused himself to presumably go to the bathroom, you knew this was your only chance; rising from your chair to follow after him. You removed your disguise quickly and left it on the table, having no further need for it. However, you stopped by their table first. You finally allowed a little of your blood lust to escape, watching in satisfaction as the woman stiffened when she felt the ferocity of your feelings. Your hand landed on her slender shoulder hard enough to make her jump in her seat before digging sharp nails into her fragile skin as you leaned down to whisper into her ear. If she was lucky, she’d have a nice imprint of your nails for the remainder of the evening. You could feel her tension, her terror, and it was almost enough to make you forget why you’d come. 

“You’re not good enough for him,” you whispered silkily, your tone far too calm for the emotions simmering just beneath the surface. Your nails crept along the side of her neck, before you gently smoothed her perfectly coiffed hair back from her temple. “If I find you sitting here when I come back, I’ve already decided to start with removing your pretty little fingers.” 

You straightened and withdrew from the now visibly trembling woman before sauntering in the direction you had last seen Chrollo go. Your cool confidence was a quickly slipping mask, barely holding back the urge to go back and kill the interloping woman. You didn’t even have to turn around to know she had bolted the moment you turned your back, which earned her the smallest bit of respect from you. She wasn’t a total idiot. 

The door to the bathroom swooshed open and your heels clicked briskly against the tile as you entered, finding Chrollo alone at the sink. A quick check with your nen told you the two of you were alone, though you began to have a sinking suspicion that it wasn’t by coincidence. As you snapped the lock in place so you wouldn’t be disturbed, Chrollo glanced up; his cool expression making you feel positively violent. 

He knew. 

“Y/n,” Chrollo mutters in feigned surprise, and he all but confirmed it right then that you had fallen for his game, whatever the end goal may be. 

You wanted to rail at him for playing such a cruel game, but as you stared into those velvet grey eyes you felt your anger seep away; only leaving that gnawing ache behind. He saw your raw pain and visible shudder ran through his lean frame, his fingers curling into a fist as he realized how much his little test had hurt you. 

He inhales slowly as he approaches you, and you hold a hand out as if that would stop him. It doesn’t as he laces his still damp fingers with yours, crowding you back towards the door. You can’t look away from his face as he stares intensely down at you. Your back hits the heavy oak door with a soft thump, and you find your free hand lifting to run your fingertips tenderly along his pale cheek. 

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to test how you truly felt about me.” He rumbles with the smallest effort for remorse, but you both know he isn’t sorry at all. He never was, not for as long as you had known him. 

“Asking is a better way.” You gently bap his cheek, still somber.

A wry smile curves his lips, however. “Unless you lie. Did you kill her?” 

“Almost.” 

He presses a hot kiss to your lips without warning, his free hand sliding under your dress and finding the knife. His deft fingers slip past it to lift your thigh and you curl it instinctively around his hip; using it to pull him flush against your body. You curl your hand into his messy locks as he pins your other next to your head, lips parting as you allow him to taste you. 

“I’m almost disappointed you didn’t,” Chrollo murmurs against your lips and you sigh against his own in response. You melt into him as you feel his fingers sneak underneath your panties to slide along your folds. He teases you quickly until you’re panting against his mouth, and you’re amazed at how well he already knows your body. He chuckles breathlessly when he wrings a needy whimper from your throat, finally finding you wet enough to slide a finger inside of you. Your legs tremble at the intrusion and you find yourself tilting your hips up, desperate for more contact as he dips his head to rake his teeth playfully along your jaw; and you can feel his finger curl smoothly along that spot inside of you. With a moan, you dig your heel into the back of his thigh and he retaliates by setting teeth harshly against your throat. You clench around his finger and he adds another, pumping them quickly as he marks your flesh. His name is like a prayer on your lips and it only fuels his desire to have you falling apart for him, delighting in how vulnerable you make yourself for him. He should’ve known all along how you felt about him, and he felt like an idiot for not seeing it before. It was too late now, but this is all he could do to make it up to you in the moment, and you accepted it greedily. 

You can feel how close you are to coming, and you find yourself softly begging Chrollo who makes a noise that sounds suspiciously close to a chuckle against your skin before pulling back to watch you as you start to come undone for him.  

“I’m so close, please, please, please…” You whine on the last plea, rolling your hips against his hand as you help him bring you to orgasm. You can feel it building low in your belly and you’re teetering on the pinnacle of pleasure when-

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Sir, ma’am…” The muffled voice on the other side of the door freezes both of you in place, and your face flushes hotly as you give Chrollo a panicked, desperate look. His low laughter at your wretched expression makes you sulk, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to beg him not to stop anyway. However, you know that if he didn’t, the man on the other side of the door would undoubtedly pay for witnessing it. You had no desire for that stranger’s blood on your hands tonight, so you bite your tongue hard enough to bruise. Chrollo’s head drops onto your shoulder as he withdraws his fingers, making you shiver and whimper at the sudden loss. He adjusts your panties over your now aching, dripping pussy and he’s unable to help himself from teasing you with a slow caress that leaves you squirming. 

“Yes?” He sounds positively icy, but you can feel the soft pants against your sensitive neck that belied the lack of emotion, his hands drifting idly over your midriff. 

You can hear the hesitation in what you assume is the manager’s voice at the singularly cold word. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” they said with false authority and you bite your lip to keep from laughing, your body shaking at the absurdity of the situation. You can feel Chrollo’s smile against your throat before he leans back with a soft laugh that surprises you, the sound so foreign coming from the usually emotionless man you saw. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, his tone almost warm. It was fascinating to see the change from the past week, and your earlier irritation had cooled considerably. You even offered him a tentative smile as he took your hand and pulled you away from the door; tucking you snugly under his arm. 

You jerk the bathroom door open and both of you stroll out, ignoring the poor manager wringing his hands nervously. A few patrons waiting to use the washroom were lingering in the hallway, and Chrollo dared them with a cool gaze to make comments. 

None dared.

[lcs-library]

Playing the Pocky Game with Mankai Co.

🍁Autumn Troupe🍁

🍂 Banri: “Ah, it’s pocky day, I totally forgot. I guess I should play with them, since they’ll beg me to later. Good thing I had a pack already.” ~time skip cuz I’m lazy~ “Hah, I was right. I already have a pack, so let’s play.” The game is pretty normal, and Banri is as smug as ever, but when he gets to the kiss, oh boy does he kiss you. Normally, he’d kiss you and then take it away quickly after(since he’s a jerk like that) but today, he knew you wanted one and boy was he about to deliver. The kiss was tender and soft, yet so passionate at the same time, and it truly encapsulated the love you shared. “Thanks for playin’ with me, sweet cheeks. I can assume you want a round two?”

🍰 Juza: “Pocky? Nice. Let’s eat it together. Wait, a game? Fine, I’ll bite, what is it?” He has genuinely never heard of the pocky game before for some reason. After you explain how it works, the game starts and it goes pretty decently. Juza isn’t someone who is super competitive, and he was mostly in it to eat the sweets so he goes pretty slowly. You never told him about the kiss, so he was surprised by your peck on the lips. You pulled away quickly, making sure that it was something quick and barely noticeable so as not to make him too uncomfortable. Juza simply blushed as he pulled away, unsure of what to think about the kiss. All he wanted was some sweets, and now the sweetness had doubled. “Uh, thanks. Do you have more? I want to play again.”

🐶 Taichi: “The Pocky game? Yeah, I know what that is! I’ve never played though, so I’m excited that you’re my first! Let’s go!” You two start the game, and it goes pretty well! For someone who’s never played before, he’s actually pretty good! You don’t drop it once, and he’s the one who kisses you! It’s a small peck, but it ended up lasting for just a bit longer, allowing you both to savor it. “Thanks for playing with me! You know, that’s actually a lot of fun! Let’s go again!”

📷 Omi: “Ah, hey, how’s it going? I actually just finished making some homemade Pocky if you want to try it, since it’s Pocky day and all. Oh, you wanted to play the game? Sure. Aah~.” Upon his teasing request, you place the stick between his lips, and you did the same on the other side. There was really no competition to the game, and it was really chill. Once you kissed, it was a kind one that left you with a warm feeling, one that you wanted to last forever. Omi pulled your face closer to his, dragging you deep into his hold, allowing you to savor it even more. You released, your heart close to beating out of your chest, yet somehow you were calm. “Thanks for playing, it was nice.”

💴 Sakyo: “Why resort to such a childish method to get a kiss? If you want one, then just ask. Really? You want it that bad? Fine, one time only.” He scoffs before putting the candy in his mouth, and keeps a straight face throughout all of it. He doesn’t savor the kiss, just merely pecks you, and makes it clear he’s only doing this to get you to shut up. “There. Are you happy now?” (He gets informed of the day later and then he feels really bad that he treated you like that. He ends up playing with you again to apologize.)

💄 Azami: “Huh? You want to eat Pocky together? Sure, I’ll take one. Wh- a game first? Fine, what are the rules?” Another one who has genuinely never heard of the game, and due to Azami being, well, Azami, you had to leave out the kiss part of the equation. You begin playing, and immediately Azami’s face is a shade of bright red, and he’s clearly got an issue with being this close, but he has faith in you, so he’s letting it slide for once. You get to the center, and quickly give him a quick kiss before he pulls his face away. “WhAT. You know we can’t do that before we’re married! You’re disgusting!” Oh…he ran off without a thank you.

🌸Spring Troupe🌸☀️Summer Troupe☀️❄️Winter Troupe❄️

[aidaita]

I just wanted to draw NKG from my AU with his staff drawn digitally asjdkgjhkhj

Edit: I seem to have forgotten to mention a few things regarding this AU ajsddfjfgh. Under Read more!

Pyre Enkindled is more of an “origin” story of how the Grimm Troupe first started than it is an AU (I’m still gonna count it as an AU because I can). Much like Children Adventure AU, it’ll have elements that alludes precedence to present-time canon but it’s far from being canon

 Nightmare King Grimm’s original name was simply “The Nightmare King.” He received the name “Grimm” by the members of the Caravan he’s traveling with and has been called by that ever since.

The Caravan are a nomadic group, consisting of 12 members including stags as their steeds, who bare multiple talents and are earnest in helping others. Everyone has a story and reason of their own to be traveling together. 

The Caravan will grow in number through the course of the “story” (I haven’t really put together a plot though). The current member count is 20, including NKG and Grimmchild 

Nightmare King Grimm is not the leader of the Caravan, he’s just a stubborn patient who doesn’t know when to stop overworking his slow yet unhealed wounds to the point of collapsing. Multiple times.

Chest wound is courtesy of Radiance on their last and final fight. As the loser, NKG was exiled from the kingdom he used to rule with Radiance (ironically later was taken from her by the Pale King)

While the Caravan are capable of handling and fending themselves fiercely, they’re just a big found family and gets into all sorts of shenanigans among themselves. It’s chaotic and silly

Lifeblood so far has proven itself to be the most effective medical ingredient for NKG. Normal methods used among mortals does not appear to be effective at healing NKG’s chest wound. Radiance’s doing perhaps?

NKG is just TIRED and grumpy (at Radiance)

He’s also terrible at names. Like, absolutely terrible. The Caravan had given him his own name for that, and named the Grimmchild “Junior” due to his lack of naming creativity

[starlitheaven]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟑 

This all came from my initial headcanon that Nobunaga taught the original Troupe members how to drive. Featuring Phinks, who wasn’t an original member but friends with all of them! This also became how an eventual Troupe member came to be. 

One of the first big things that Chrollo stole was an old car from an affluent couple who were in the process of trying to dump their child. He was thirteen.

He had been almost buried in a pile of trash trying to get what looked like an antique radio to sell, when he heard voices that didn’t belong to Meteorites. 

The father was hesitating while the mother was shushing the child so it would remain asleep. Chrollo hadn’t seen anyone dump an actual child until then, he had only heard about it from friends or the church. It wasn’t a daily occurrence like the outside world thought, but common enough for the residents to not react at it. He just hadn’t seen it personally. 

He was already intrigued enough to witness this, so he stilled to listen as the mother reminded the father why their child needs to be forgotten. 

There was regality in the way the two carried themselves, and the quality in their wardrobe was confirmed to Chrollo’s trained eye when he managed to peek at them.

“We can’t keep hiding this, and I can’t hire anyone to take care of it,” the mother pleaded. “I want our lives to get back to normal. This thing will never allow that.”

Narrowing his eyes, Chrollo leaned his head forward to try and get a closer look at the child. They just looked like a small bundle from where he was hidden. Shrugging, he retraced the couples steps until he found their car. 

These people clearly didn’t want their actions to be traced back to them, as the car was of complete opposite quality to what they wore on their backs. The car they used looked like any shitty car one could put together in Meteor City if you knew the right people. Wealth rarely meant intelligence, Chrollo knew this well. They made this too easy to take. 

Chrollo happened to be a kid (well, barely a teenager) who did know the right people. Just a few weeks ago, Paku took him to the person who sells the guns she reconstructs. He was pleased to see it wasn’t an adult, but someone about Uvo’s age. 

Phinks Magcub, a self taught mechanic with a motor oil stained muscle shirt. He was impressed with Chrollo’s ability to find quality guns amongst the trash as much as he was impressed with Pakunoda’s craftsmanship in reconstruction. 

A few days later they returned along with Uvo, Nobu, Franklin, and Feitan just to hang out. Phinks taught them how to hot-wire a car, and his words rang clearly in Chrollo’s mind, “You'll always find the basic tools in this shithole. Just walk around and there it it’ll be.”  

While walking to the couple’s car, he found exactly what he needed. Using the screwdriver to remove the plastic covering the steering column, Chrollo then shoved the screwdriver into the ignition until it turned on. 

He had never driven or even been inside a car up until recently, so Chrollo made sure the radio was on a station with blaring punk music before he lightly accelerated. Or so he thought. 

He swerved right on time right before he crashed the car onto a large mountain of trash. A wild grin spread across Chrollo’s face at the feeling. The music was too loud and he horribly drove away too fast to hear or notice if the couple even heard. 

They were probably aware that if they go too close to Meteor City, the air quality would harm them. He was confident they wouldn’t go after him. 

Banging his head to the music and purposely running over random objects to hear the satisfying crunch of destruction, he sloppily drove in the general direction of Phinks’ makeshift garage.

The adrenaline rush of the high speed and music gave him the brief idea of turning around and running over those disgustingly wealthy parents who couldn’t handle their child for some reason. Just blasting loud music and accelerating this busted car into their bodies. How fun.

His laugh couldn’t be heard over the music, and his high didn’t fade until after he got to his friends. 

He presented his gift to his older friends after almost running them over. Phinks was once again impressed at his instincts and skills, despite having fucked up the car. Uvo hollered and thrashed Chrollo out of excitement and envy at having missed out. There’s nothing more he loved than causing havoc. 

The mother stupidly left a canvas bag inside the car. Well, maybe she was somewhat smart since this bag obviously was meant to be unassuming. She still had enough money inside to buy them all a decent dinner with enough leftovers to last them as tomorrow’s breakfast.

After dinner and some card games, Phinks fixed up the car so Nobunaga could teach the rest how to drive. They packed into the car while each drove for the first time. 

Uvogin didn’t comfortably fit in the seat to drive properly, so he smacked the steering wheel and gave up. Phinks had to fix it again before Feitan could try.

No one dared to laugh at seeing how much Feitan had to adjust the seat after Uvo’s turn. His driving was jerky and his brakes were too sudden it made most of them sick. 

Franklin had the same issue as Uvo, but he had observed enough that he got the gist of driving. His teaching methods were easier to understand compared to Nobunaga’s gruff instructions, so the rest had an easier time.

Surprising no one, Pakunoda’s driving was much smoother. Everything seemed like it’d go perfectly until she crashed them all into a pole. 

Chrollo got much better at maneuvering the steering wheel upon proper instruction, but he had to be told several times by everyone to slow the fuck down. Everyone except Phinks, that is. He had a soft spot for Chrollo as he was the youngest and was usually quiet. 

The car would officially be Nobunaga and Franklin’s, but Phinks was free to mess with it as he liked. 

By sunrise, they mostly got the hang of it. It was then that Chrollo remembered the child and told his friends about it. When they got to where he had first seen them, the parents were gone. The bundle was still there and squirming around, but not crying.

The child was odd looking, but his features were mostly hidden through long and untamed silver hair. Chrollo wouldn’t put it past the parents to use the long hair to cover his features. 

They took the child to the church, where they were told he was about two years old. Throughout the years, Chrollo frequently went to see the child. The kid had a habit of following him around everywhere, and trusted Chrollo enough to tell him the name he chose for himself. Like most meteorites, he was left to name himself. His name was Kortopi. 

[tottymatsuno]

Who You Actually Are (Osomatsu-san: Karamatsu x Reader)

Chapter 2:

Dissociation

Author: Roro (halfeviltotty)

Fandom: Osomatsu-san

Pairing: Karamatsu x reader

Category: hurt/comfort, character study, trauma fic

Rating: gen

Summary: A fractured sense of identity watching all at once.

Word count: 1700 or so

Warnings: blood warning, injuries, DID, mental illness, vague mentions of trauma

Commentary: karamatsu is really goin thru it huh EDITS IN FUNNIE KARAMATSU PICTURE BC THATS HOW IM ROLLING FROM NOW ON

| Oneshots | All Fics | Multichapter Fics | Entire Series>| Karamatsu Fics |

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| Osomatsu |

Next Chapters

| Choromatsu Part 1 | Choromatsu Part 2 |

With crystal clear eyes you saw right through Karamatsu with a question instead of introduction. You plucked out a single rose and the red contrast against your skin was breathtaking. "Who are you supposed to be?" You twirled it with such a graceful flair and avoided hurting yourself in its thorns.

It caught Karamatsu off guard, why would you ask that. Your tone was neither cold nor overly warm, not much affection or derision. Just a simple question with your head tilted with those analytical eyes taking in each motion and expression that crosses Karamatsu's face.

Your genuine curiosity frightened him, as if you without a doubt thought he must be acting.

"W-who am I? Heh! Well my beautiful Karamatsu flower, I am your destiny! I am Matsuno Karamatsu, the 2nd brother, handsome, suave, a lone wolf who walks a shadowy path for redemption! Ah, my Karamatsu lover, do not get too close for this wolf will have no choice but to bare his fangs into your slender neck. I've got my eyes on my prey, and darling I won't let you go once you're in my Karamatsu clutch."

Karamatsu posed dramatically with each sentence and you just watched. When he was through speaking you clapped.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Karamatsu blinked at your response, "I can see your passion for this character Karamatsu, and your method acting is pretty good albeit a little rough around the edges. Which troupe are you with? I wouldn't mind work-shopping some dialogue with you. You wanna do a quick improv right now since we're both here?"

"You're pretty handsome so I'm sure you're popular in your troupe, but when we're done improvising let me take a couple head shots of you. I know the director of a local theater who has the perfect role for someone like you if you're not married to the Karamatsu persona. "

You smiled at him and Karamatsu suddenly felt embarrassed, you're so pretty. Beautiful even, to the point where Karamatsu lowered the bouquet of roses with his head cast downwards. He didn't even care that you said he was handsome. It did literally nothing for his ego in that moment, but did prove to him that Karamatsu doesn't know himself. He has never felt handsome once before in his life and had only been called that word by his mother.

It'd been a long week.

"I can't do this right now." Karamatsu said painfully with his voice so dried that it sounded very unlike him, far away and much weaker than Karamatsu could ever utter. How many times is this going to happen to him? Today wasn't the day Karamatsu wanted to confront these emotions especially not in front of a woman but the words overflow without consent as suddenly the world shifts into third person.

"Why doesn't anyone take me seriously? I try so hard to be myself and I get asked 'who are you trying to impress, Karamatsu-niisan?' 'why are you wearing that, Karamatsu-niisan?' 'can you do this for me, and that, I need your help Karamatsu-niisan!' 'it's embarrassing to be seen with you, Karamatsu-niisan!' day in and day out. Now strangers are asking me who I'm supposed to be?"

Karamatsu watched himself shout with such pity, Karamatsu in his old uniform on-looked while shielding the ten year old's eyes. All of himselves surrounded with unblinking stares forward and Karamatsu felt ashamed.

"Why can't I just be who I said I am? Why does everyone have to ask me why? Does it matter?! The answer is even I don't know! Who the hell even is Matsuno Karamatsu if I'm not him?! If I can't be him then who am I!"

Karamatsu felt the thorns from the bouquet pressed tightly against the thin wrapping of the paper. His hands shook violently.

All at once like he had been grounded midair, Karamatsu felt your hands wrap around the bouquet. There was blood dripping from a few puncture wounds. You stared down at him with genuine concern, horrified at the display. But your hands were soft and gentle.

"I think I made a mistake, Karamatsu-san. I'm very sorry for hurting your feelings like this."

The bouquet is slowly pulled out of his injured hands and Karamatsu can't help but to reach out to you. You should shy away, Karamatsu thinks once he has the ability to form his own thoughts.

"It's bleeding, don't let me touch you." His words didn't match his actions, you watched him with those analytical eyes and leaned forward. When Karamatsu's hands cupped your face he saw a bit of blood smeared on your chin.

You were worried for him and not afraid of him even in the slightest.

"It's going to be okay, Karamatsu-san. I'll take care of this." Karamatsu is then led to a store, his hands bandaged by someone who took delicate care not to hurt him. You listened when Karamatsu spoke and you took his words at face value.

Hey...

Stop being so nice. The older child inside of Karamatsu pleads pathetically, I'll get the wrong idea if you're this nice. You haven't wiped your face yet, why not? You're supposed to avoid touching other people's blood, aren't you afraid? Don't you know my blood could make you sick? Your hands are so warm, stop touching mine. I'm scared.

Karamatsu was led to a bench on a busy street by his fingertips, so loud that it was almost impossible to ignore the sounds. A sea of people walk by, why are you holding my hand? Asked the ten year old inside of Karamatsu. You should only hold hands when crossing the street, you should know that by now. Girls like this are stupid for not caring, the ten year old concludes.

You haven't stopped talking, your voice carried on the wind's currents and the overcast late afternoon turned into a dark twilight.

Karamatsu finally listened.

"Karamatsu-san, that isn't a red shirt. It's a brown suit." He looked at you for a second and laughed, "Sorry, I didn't notice." There was someone laughing for him. Someone else was making his throat hum out a chuckle, someone who was pulling his muscles to form a smile, someone who's fingers in his cheeks. There has been someone responding for him, using his voice to carry on the conversation. Karamatsu consciously took the reigns back as subtly as ever, making sure you didn't notice the mask being transferred to another facet of himself.

"You don't have to try so hard, Karamatsu-san. Or at least not with me after this." With those words you stood up, dusted your pants off and grinned at him.

"I'll see you again, right?" Karamatsu just nodded once more in a daze.

And you did, you sought him out with those curious eyes. You taught him some acting methods Karamatsu found out years later were coping skills.

"I always wanted to be an actor, my Karamatsu girl!" Karamatsu told you and then it was.

You took candids of him and introduced him to your theater, with the first greeting out your mouth was, "I'm this guy's biggest Karamatsu fan! Please give a warm welcome to Karamatsu-san!"

At first he thought your kindness was pity, then he thought maybe you simply were just kind. Then Karamatsu noticed something about you too, that faraway stare. A rapidly shifting personality, moments of complete catatonic silence that seemed to strangle you mentally. Like you were watching things in third person too and were fighting to get back in control.

"Who are you?" Karamatsu asked you once while your hair laid across the bathroom floor, he only asked because you couldn't stop muttering "I can't tell if I'm not me."

Twenty minutes later you seemed back to normal, the tears wiped away, the episode quietly ended like it began and you were shocked to see your head. "Who did this?"

Karamatsu witnessed your surprise each time you saw your reflection, like you were meeting an overly familiar stranger each time. The subtle wide eye gasp, if he hadn't studied you so closely Karamatsu wouldn't have ever noticed. When you recognized not yourself or a representation of yourself in the mirror but a friend from long ago you would smile. Like you were smiling at someone you accidentally made eye contact with from across the room instead of your own face.

Karamatsu helped ground you just as much as you did for him. You taught him the skills for himself and when you needed him, Karamatsu would pluck you mid spiral and assist you safely to your senses because you needed it as well.

"I owe you so much, I'm not sure if this is okay to ask from you but will you go to the petting zoo with me. As a date?" Karamatsu extended the tickets out towards you which received him a strange look. You glanced down at his hand, and then to the other and then to your own.

You finished your cotton candy quickly, "Karappii? Why are you confessing?" You lifted your hand held in Karamatsu's own. "Isn't this our three month anniversary?"

"C-can I kiss you then?!" And you kissed him while waiting for your turn on the ferris wheel. Then again on the ferris wheel itself, then on the ride home, and then at home.

You helped him a lot. With every small indicator of something vastly unwell, a detachment from Karamatsu's own feelings you asked him to challenge that notion. His bravado slowly stopped peacocking and became true confidence, Karamatsu found himself understanding his thoughts better.

In return Karamatsu assisted with what he learned was dissociation, it was funny since the symptoms sounded familiar. Karamatsu had to adapt, not adjust. All at once he felt responsible for someone else's well being, roses can't fix things that are broken. Neither within himself or you.

You tried to manage him in his moments of forgetfulness, "Karamatsu isn't it Thursday?" therapy day. Karamatsu did the same for you. Two broken people trying to rearrange their image based off of what the other sees. "Have I always looked this way?" You asked with that clarity gone. "Yes, you've always been this beautiful."

"Is this okay? Am I still Karamatsu if I feel like this?" Karamatsu asked in one of many moments of vulnerability. Kintsugi, Karamatsu feels like kintsugi when handled by you.

"I think I fell for you that day we met, at first I really thought you were acting. But I realized you did exactly what you said you would. Once I was in your clutch, I knew I would never escape." You looked stunning two years later in your white dress.

On his wedding night, Karamatsu never cried so hard before. The ceremony ended and all at once it was just Karamatsu and you in the hotel room.

"You saved me that day, Karappii. I was planning doing something I couldn't come back from and there you were. I love you, my Karamatsu angel."

Four versions of Karamatsu have seemed to melded together at this point after all if he knows one truth about himself it's that Karamatsu is in love with you.

[eldritch-muppetshow]

collection of headcanons for some of the jhh gang for the archive vault au bc why not

vicki

vicki has some very mixed feelings about kermit post-jhh. on one hand, she respects his decision to (mostly) return to a format closer to the muppet show, but on the other hand it really stung to have him leave the jhh gang behind (and not only hire a muppet superfan just like her years later, but let him officially join the troupe too!). she’s still friends with most of her coworkers, though. mixed feelings about kermit’s decision aside, she doesn’t hold any real animosity towards walter himself because he was just a starstruck fan getting the opportunity of his dreams.

even if she can’t always hang out with him, she’s one of digit’s closest friends.

leon

leon’s definitely jealous of digit on some level. after all, digit’s receiving all this special attention and the opportunity to rejoin the muppets in some capacity, kermit hasn’t offered anything like that to him and his fellow jhh muppets (or for that matter, most obscure muppets who were phased out). but as much as leon projects his resentment of kermit/the muppets as a troupe onto digit, he’s not necessarily doing it out of an intentional desire to manipulate him. he earnestly thinks that digit is holding back some form of resentment, even though digit doesn’t actually feel that way.

even amongst the jhh muppets, he holds the title of “that friend who sticks around but nobody really likes that much”. lindbergh and bean don’t have much in common with him, vicki finds him kind of creepy/annoying, and solid foam (barring digit) barely know he exists. he’s friends with digit, but that’s largely because digit’s clinging to any muppet he recognizes (and because he forgot about that time leon accidentally shorted him out because he wanted to watch risqué intergalactic tv shows).

lindbergh

he doesn’t hold any animosity towards kermit, although he is a little bummed out that kermit didn’t talk to him for like. 29 years. he spent those years continuing to work as a plumber/maintenance man.

he’s even more out of the loop about the interpersonal drama between kermit/the jhh gang than digit, which is saying something.

his methods of fixing electronics have not changed, but miraculously they almost always work (or at least work surprisingly well for the method used).

[beigehearts]

The Price of Self Respect

Please refer to my master list for the other chapters! Sorry for the short chapter, the last three will be long

PART VII

CW:  mentions of kidnapping

1,054 words

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Instead of splitting off as planned form the rest of the troupe, you and Chrollo are sticking around for a while so you can count the jenny you got from the last mission. In order to divide it evenly among the troupe. Another thing, you were somewhat surprised to find out that Chrollo is against PDA. Not that you mind of course, finding it embarrassing, especially with the man who kidnapped you.

The familiar struggle of knowing you can't have feelings for Chrollo and the fact that you still do- still lingers. An inner warfare rages through you when it comes to Chrollo. There's a very fine line between pretending to show genuine affection and actually showing genuine affection at the moment. Though it's a fine line that is very blurry.

The nights where you are are very cold, close to below zero. You're unsure of where the rest of the troupe has been sleeping but you and Chrollo have put a mattress on the ground with two pillows and a heavy sheet.

To say you're cold is an understatement- the heavy sheet providing little warmth- though the heat of Chrollo's skin makes up for it. He has his arms wrapped around you, both your bodies mostly bare in order to generate more heat. Your eyes travel up his chest until they stop at his face. The cross on his forehead seems unnaturally placed, though without it he wouldn't be the same. You trace your fingers up his muscular arm, wondering what time it is. It's no longer dark out- sun shining through the foliage and into the cave you occupy.

Your attention is caught when he begins to shuffle around, pulling your body closer to him. He plants a kiss on your forehead and nuzzles your head into his chest. "Good morning." He yawns out.

You hum in response to his greeting. "Another day of counting jenny, how fun." With a roll of your eyes, you flip over and push your back against his chest.

He chuckles, "Oh don't be dramatic. We'll stop by the nearest town for breakfast before we start the day."

The sound of a hot coffee or a hot tea right now is heavenly. Some food wouldn't hurt too- you've been living off of granola bars for a while now. You can only eat so much granola before your body begins to crave something other than grain.

The both of you get dressed, putting your clothes on while remaining under the covers. While it is freezing- it's a beautiful walk through the woods to the next town over. The hour it takes to get through the wooded area is filled with small laughter and quiet talking. The both of you being quiet as if not to disturb the nature- the creatures of the woods. Morning dew wets your shoes, and there's a satisfying crunch under your feet thanks to the leaves and twigs.

It's a pretty big town and you two stroll through a quaint neighborhood with some small shops. Chrollo probably wouldn't feel comfortable taking you somewhere super populated just in case you make a scene and try to escape.

You sit down at small diner named "Galactic Dining". It's old fashioned with red booth seats and retro tables. The seats are a bit ripped up but comfortable.

You order a coffee and so does Chrollo. Oldies quietly play and serenade people throughout the building. Even though there are only four other people eating here.

"I have a question." You state.

"What is it?"

"What do you expect from this?" You make eye contact and continue, "Keeping me with you against my will until we're both old and wither away?"

You spin your spoon in your coffee, clinking against the ceramic cup.

He clears his throat, seeming like he's been put on the spot. "Against your will? Is that what this is? I didn't realize." He hums, "I'll have to rethink this since I now know I'm not what you want. Either way you'll stay with me."

"What's the difference of me wanting to stay with you and not wanting to if you're going to keep me anyway?"

"It's the difference of whether or not I take your nen ability." He leans his face against his hand and gazes at the speckled ceiling, "Do you really dislike me that much?"

With his beautiful features so close to your face, how could you ever say no? "I never said that. It's important to know what your fate entails."

Your waitress comes over, placing down your eggs and toast, and putting pancakes in front of Chrollo.

"I just don't understand what you think is going to realistically happen in this situation." You take a bite of eggs and look at your reflection in your coffee.

He nods slowly, buttering his pancakes and pouring the small container of syrup on it. "I see." He takes a few bites before answering, "I suppose in time I will give you the choice to stay with me or not. While leaving does mean I will most likely take your nen ability, it will be your choice." He takes a sip of his black coffee, "I hope you stay with me as my girlfriend and not my captive."

Somehow it surprises you that he has such a grip on reality. He isn't living in delusion and understands the situation. His actions just made it seem otherwise, but something tells you he doesn't really mean what he says about giving you a choice. How could he let go the person he studied for so long before methodically kidnapping you. You agree that you would like to stay with him- but your grip on reality is a little stronger than his.

After consuming your breakfast, you lay back in the booth and he breaks the silence, "We will be leaving soon. We have another missions before the troupe disbands for a while. I will need your help on this one. After that I will let you make your choice."

What could he possibly need you for... "What's the mission?"

"If you really want to know, we will be robbing this continent's museum- it's one of the most valuable museum's in the world."

Somehow his face looks earnest, maybe he really will give you the choice to leave.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 10

Connections

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party arrived in Cauterdale, the heavily-fortified port city at war with nature. They arrived in search of members of the Deathseekers' Guild- the organization of professional adventurers and monster-hunters that likes to be very up-front about its mortality rate- to handle a dragon problem that they're personally a little underleveled for.

While Looseleaf had a fateful encounter with the Plot at the Temple of Andra, Saelhen and Oyobi were headed to the barracks of the city guard, to speak to "Mags", the guard on duty when the local Deathseekers were last seen leaving town. And there...

You remember Medd Cutter, right? Highly-memorable Medd Cutter, the NPC who got oneshot by a T-rex and whose life the party saved? Well, to spite Rex... whatever his last name was, the pro-patria-mori asshole guard captain guy, Saelhen has decided that she's going to start spreading the word of Medd's heroism.

Oyobi, unfortunately, is bent on spreading the word of her own extremely ill-advised heroism, and so the two are having some sort of hype-off as they make their way into the barracks and effortlessly charm their way past the guards to where their quarry is posted.

These two are manning some sort of huge brass contraption, bristling with lenses and dials. One of them is a yuan-ti pureblood- which there are an unusual number of in the city guard, compared to the general population. Weird. Saelhen politely introduces herself, and Verity Truescale refers them to Magnaranth aka Mags, the loxodon who last saw the Deathseekers leave town.

Mags doesn't have a huge amount to tell them- the Deathseekers, evidently, were going hunting, out east somewhere. They brought a lot of torches, so apparently they were headed somewhere dark? Underground, maybe? They were pretty cagey about what exactly they were going out to do. Still, Mags can provide the names and addresses of the Deathseekers in question.

...And Verity, checking the instruments, notices that something is wrong with the tides- apparently something large is disturbing the waters, but they can't quite pinpoint what- it's not any of the usual suspects, which include things by the name of "Darkie" or "Unnessie". Ominous!

After that, the party meets up at the local Temple of Iska, their designated rendezvous point. They catch each other up on their gains, and decide... well, the Deathseekers are going to be back within a couple days, so they'll just wait for them in town and get going with them, to make sure things in Barley and Wheat go smoothly.

Of course, the question then is "where do we stay?"

Options aren't great- Cauterdale is crowded, and the B&B market is incredibly shitty. The best lodging is on Eman's Knee, the island just off the coast of Cauterdale, but getting the ferry over there is expensive, and resort lodging on a tropical island is also expensive.

That- you can't just- I mean, just because- I'm- I'm allowed to be predictable, okay???

(And anyway, it's Corolos where I ended up doing a murder mystery.)

So, Looseleaf gets a 24 investigating the town's B&B market, and finds a pretty good place! It's a weapons shop Saelhen noticed earlier, which is renting out rooms. The place has a huge fence topped with spikes, so they probably won't even get robbed!

Aria of War, as it happens, is run by an elderly yet ripped-as-hell tabaxi man, who Saelhen... vaguely recognizes.

Benedict I. (GM): So, this shopkeeper's coat is familiar to you. It's definitely not the same person, but you once knew a girl in Timber Towers named Toothbrush, with almost the exact same coat. Could be a relative! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Yeah, tabaxi have a lot of coat variation; it's not a safe bet that they're related, but Saelhen is willing to go out on a limb with him. "Good evening, sir, and I'm sorry to bother you, but I felt I had to ask..." Fish Especially: "No discounts." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Do you have any relation to a..." Was Toothbrush her real name? Benedict I. (GM): As far as you know! Tabaxi have weird names. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Toothbrush?" Fish Especially: He looks surprised. "Hold on, you know Toothbrush?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I knew I knew that speckle pattern." Saelhen smiles widely and without guile. "I met her in Timber Towers a while back. She played the violin." "More specifically, she couldn't play the violin, but she always failed very effectively." Fish Especially: "I'll be! Her theatre troupe doing all right for itself, then?" "Even with the noise of that awful thing?" "I never know what to think when she writes those letters..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Last I saw of them, they were doing pretty well for themselves! To be honest, I did a stint with them for a bit, they wanted advice on a traditional elven piece..." Saelhen leans in on her elbows. "Oh, she mangled it, but she compensated with charm and that one face. Her confident face, you know the one, where you think she's so confident that maybe it's supposed to sound like that?" Fish Especially: He laughs. "You do know my girl!" "She hasn't written in- I think a year, now. How's she been?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Oh, it's been so long, I'm barely an authority by now -- but I remember she was talking about taking classes in -- what was it..." "...oh, where are my manners -- I'm Saelhen du Fishercrown, it's a pleasure." Saelhen reaches out for a very unelven handshake.

That she says this is notable for one big reason: this is the first time she's used her real name, and not "Lady Noeru de la Surplus". Nobody else in the party has heard this before!

It's also notable because according to Fish Especially, Toothbrush thought Saelhen was dead- and he's going to let her know otherwise.

Anyway, the deal for rooms goes through without incident, and the night also goes without incident! As is entirely normal, they hear Vayen in the halls making some sort of attempt to sneak into Saelhen's room in the night... and this time, sighing and going "never mind" without even attempting to pick the lock for some reason.

In the morning... Looseleaf grills Saelhen on the name thing, and she confesses the truth of the matter to the whole party- who take it fairly well.

After team bonding, the party heads to the Temple of Andra to check in and see if the Deathseekers have showed up. And by the stablehand's account, they have- or at least, a bunch of weird old people showed up to meet with Gabbro.

Gabbro seems surprised to see them- he was under the impression that they'd leave the matter to them. The further involvement of the party should be unnecessary, right...?

Looseleaf: "Oh, yeah, I was going to let you know we were staying in town and ask for you to let us know when the deathseekers showed up, but, uh, judging by that meeting we interrupted, they're already back and right here." Gabbro: "That is correct," he says, as the stablehand leaves. "I was just briefing them on the mission, you see." "The situation is well in hand, so you needn't concern yourselves with it any longer." "That pesky dragon shouldn't be an issue." Looseleaf: "W-well, uh. I was, uh, we were, kiiiinda hoping to travel with you back to the dragon's tower." "I mean, it's our quest, so, it'd be nice to, for us to see it happening so we can be sure of it, y'know?" Gabbro: He looks somewhat taken aback. "That... seems... risky, don't you think?" "To bring along... certain... people?" Looseleaf: "We're going to stay very very far away from the action! We're not that dumb!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I assure you that we have no intention of fighting the dragon ourselves, sir." Gabbro: "Ah, yes, of course not..." "However..." He gives Looseleaf a pleading look. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And there are... certain persons in the nearby town, whose safety I would like to check up on. Personally." Looseleaf: He doesn't seem to want people witnessing the fight? It could be explicable through just, him being worried we'll get hurt. But it could also be, 'their deathseekers fight with methods that Orluthe in particular should not be allowed to witness.' Gabbro: "Ah, well, if that's the case... if you don't mean to get involved with the Deathseekers and their work..." Looseleaf: "We're not going to- we don't want any claim to the loot in the tower either, if that's a problem! Everything in the tower is you and your group's prerogative to deal with however we like."

Gabbro seems... put slightly more at ease, and decides to introduce the group to the ones who'll be their traveling companions shortly- the Cauterdale Deathseekers.

In order:

Doon Softbreeze, half-halfling rogue and all-around Grunkle Stan-type, friendliest with the party.

Kevin Softbreeze, Doon's soft-spoken herbalist husband and that's it, probably, just a gardener.

John Human, an extremely decrepit extremely human man who seems to make weird buzzing sounds when he speaks, as if with mouthparts instead of human lips.

Ryuusatsu Takuma, totally silent elf (not present at this meeting with Gabbro) who probably just doesn't like talking, is all.

Lady Fidelia Greatholder, heavily-armored and heavily-everything human noblewoman (also not present at this meeting), who- well, she shows up next session.

Gabbro makes a point of making clear to those present that Orluthe, who they'll be traveling with, is a cleric of Diamode- apparently they need to know this for some reason!

Doon's pretty friendly with the party, and offers to take on their job pro-bono- on the basis that, c'mon, if they could actually afford them, they wouldn't be knocking on their door for help. So it looks like they've enlisted some highly-capable dragonslayers with no ulterior motives! Fantastic.

Next time: The road back to Barley, and the tying up of a few loose ends in town. Saelhen needs to get her kimono back!

[thewidowstanton]

Elihu Vazquez, B-boy, Barely Methodical Troupe: SHIFT

Spaniard Elihu Vazquez is an incredible international award-winning break dancer who is also a model, teacher and a championship judge. He has an extensive CV that encompasses appearances in music videos, TV shows, stage shows, and at corporate and sporting events. He had a lengthy run winning the Andalucia Break Dance Championship, and from 2007-2011 he was an outstanding member of Dream Team Spain, a group of the eight best B-boys in the country.

Eli performed with the Generating Company’s Circus Rocks in 2011, at the London 2012 Olympic Torch Relay and at Breakin’ Convention in 2013. He danced at London’s Peacock Theatre in Titanium, and in Cirque Eloize’s iD in Cancun and Wuxi. In 2018 he joined the line-up of Barely Methodical Troupe’s third show, SHIFT, which headlined the Norfolk & Norwich Festival. Following an autumn tour of the UK, SHIFT will have its London premiere when it opens the 2019 London International Mime Festival, running from 9-12 January 2019 at the Platform Theatre. Eli chats to Liz Arratoon via email, with thanks to BMT producer Di Robson.

The Widow Stanton: What do you call yourself: B-boy, a break dancer, or what? Eli Vazquez: The proper name is B-boy. It is how the pioneers called themselves when they started breaking. Break dance is simply the name that a journalist gave them in a report. That’s why the world knows this dance as ‘break dance’. Some of the B-boys don’t like this term ‘break dance’ but I don’t really care too much about the definition, I do what I do, always mixing it with other disciplines.

Do your moves start with Hip Hop? Under the first definition of Hip Hop, breaking is the only dance of Hip Hop. So I can say I started with Hip Hop because I started with breaking. I went straight to the acrobatic part of this dance with all the spins. It was the thing that attracted me to learn more about this world.

How and when did you start dancing? I started when I was 14, around 2002. I had spent a few years before that playing in my house trying to copy the moves I had watched on the TV, but I really did not understand how they were doing them. So it was around then when I met a friend from my village; Churriana de la Vega, in the province of Granada. He knew a lot of B-boys in a nearby village. So we started to go every day and join in, and they started to teach us some moves. We all practised together. Our slogan was – and still is – ‘Each one, teach one’. So the best way to learn it is just to find people who practise and ask to join them.

But how do you even begin to learn such difficult moves? By falling millions of times! We were all very young people so we did not have a good method or knowledge. We just played and explored until we got moves that looked similar to the moves we watched on the VHS videos.

Did you have any specific teachers or was it just by watching others? Each one, teach one. I can say that there is hardly anyone who has inspired me more; they were teaching everyone so much. But I think the cool thing about this dance is that you don’t have strict rules about how to do it, so it is fun to find your own way to dance and express yourself.

How long were you the Andalucian champion? For ten years. But it wasn’t only me. It was crew versus crew. So we won with our crew, Arcopom, that I founded with my friend; the one I started to dance with.

What made you move more into doing shows rather than battles? From the beginning I started to do some performances with my crew but it was not very frequently. In 2009 I was not sure about what to do with my life but I was sure that dance is what I wanted to do. I moved to Madrid and started to look for jobs related to dance. Because battling is more for fun, you cannot support yourself even if you win all the battles, in Spain anyway.

When was your first stage show? It was quite early; it was in 2004, because in the first Andalucia championship you had to perform a show to be selected for the battles.

How did Barely Methodical find you? I was working in 2012 with the Olympic Torch Relay in London. Ella Robson Guilfoyle, who co-devised and co-directed SHIFT, was one of the choreographers. A year later Ella asked me to do Echoes, a show she had created. Beren D’Amico and Louis Gift of BMT were part of the Echoes cast and we made a good friendship.

Had you seen their other shows: BROMANCE and KIN? Unfortunately I only have seen BROMANCE in rehearsal because we were sharing the space for that! So I am waiting to find the chance to watch them.

How much were you involved in the creation of this show? A lot! We are four very different performers – myself, Esmeralda Nikolajeff, Charlie Wheeller and Louis Gift – and to find a common point you need to be involved all the time, bringing ideas, being open to do things you never did before… you have to put all the meat in the oven if you want to make it work. So I feel like SHIFT has a lot of me in every part of the show.

What can you tell people about it? I can tell them that it is a very physical work – as you have seen already in Norwich – where you can see the deep breathing of every performer, you will see sweat. And you can connect and identify yourself with some of the parts of the show, how it works, the relations between us and how it affects each person. We start playing together, we separate and finally we find our way to flow together, trusting each other and enjoying each other as well.

Can you say something about the use of the Therabands? For me the Theraband is a way to explore beyond our own bodies. And for me it represents, in the show, the invisible line that links each person with each other. Creating tension and affecting each other with every move we do. So it is a way to make visible that invisible line that links us.

Did you tell me that your hair sometimes catches on fire when you spin on your head? Not literally! But when you are spinning on your head, the friction with all your weight on your hair is very big, so it is very easy to burn you hair, and if you have short hair you can burn your skin. A hairless spot in the centre of your head is an identification for B-boys! Every B-boy used to have the hairless spot and calluses on their hands.

What’s it like to perform with circus artists? It is amazing! I feel like I am performing with superheroes with no fear of anything. I used to work more with dancers and B-boys and they are not that brave and trusting with each other. I love the complicity and how we need to move in the same direction because we depend on each other.

Has there been a crossover of skills; learning from each other? Yes, there has been. I am doing skills I never imagined myself doing. In the same way, the others, they are all circus artists, were learning moves choreographed using my B-boy moves.

Do you prefer performing to competing? I like both, but if I can choose… I am more motivated by performing at the moment… but I do like to go back to competing whenever I can. It is like a test that I’m improving myself and it keeps my skills up.

Do you enjoy the travel involved in touring? I love to travel, especially when I’m working. And the further away the best, but not for too long a time.

Where has been your favourite place to visit? If you mean with BMT, it was Edinburgh. I had been to Edinburgh before but this time it seemed a different city for me and I loved it. I enjoy it a lot.

What did you most like about it? The Fringe festival, sharing that big house with my show mates, partying with them, meeting many artists from other shows. And, of course, watching shows every day.

Where else have you been? There was a championship in southern Spain and the prize was to travel wherever you wanted in the world, with a limit of €10,000, and there needed to be a championship in that place. We won that for ten years in a row, so we have been in Beijing, Miami, Singapore, Thailand, Seoul, Tokyo, Atlanta…

Can you pick a couple of highlights from your career? I have two. They were like a dream come true because when I started to dance I was talking with my friend about how cool it would be to win that competition, and only three years later in 2005 we won the Spanish ‘Battle of the Year’ and went on to represent Spain in the international event. We had no chance to get any prize at the international really, but ten years later we won the Spanish Battle of the Year again and this time we, with the show Doble K.O, took the first prize for the best show in the international competition. Battle of the Year is probably the most important championship for B-boys.

Were you involved with choreographing these shows? The moves are unbelievable! I had the original idea for the choreography; I made the structure and chose the music. Then the whole crew started to work together.

What are your hopes for the future? Not sure yet; my only hope at present is to keep having cool jobs as I’m having now.

How do you feel about opening the Mime Festival? Excited! This is the second time BMT have opened the festival; BROMANCE opened it in 2015 and I can’t wait for 2019!

Elihu Vazquez appears in Barely Methodical Troupe’s show SHIFT, which opens the London International Mime Festival, and runs from 9-12 January 2019 at the Platform Theatre.

Picture credits: Gregory Batardon; Chris Nash; Tina Perez

For SHIFT tickets, click here

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Barely Methodical Troupe’s website

Twitter: @BMTroupe @MimeLondon @EllaGuilfoyle

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