#but like the lawyer getting cut in half is just too comical for anything else the movie does to come across as scary

[apollowatchesmovies]

August 6th

Movie 54

Thir13en Ghosts

[felassan]

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 annotations & additional pages/art compilation

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 is a hardcover collection of some pre-existing Dragon Age comics that was released in 2014. It comprises of all issues of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. In places, it includes additional annotations/commentaries by the illustrators and authors, as well as a few additional pages with additional art. iirc these additional annotations and pages/art aren’t featured or available anywhere else (in the franchise I mean; other people have probably put them online at some point I’m sure).

From what I can see at least, Library Edition Volume 1 is no longer in print, and as such listings for it on resale sites etc are.. price-inflated & prohibitively expensive (~£100+, which I’m sure we can all agree is just not reasonable or accessible to most people). Due to this, I’ve compiled the additional annotations and pages here in this post. Thank you and credit to @artevalentinapaz, who kindly shared the material with me. This post has been made with their permission. The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

These commentaries are in the context of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. If you notice any errors or annotations missing, or need anything clarified, just let me know. I think the annotations are in chronological order. In places I elaborated in square brackets to help explain which part of the comics an annotation is referring to. A note before you proceed further: some of the topics referenced in the annotations/additional pages are heavy or uncomfortable. The quotes here are word-for-word transcriptions of dev/creator commentaries, not my personal opinions or phrasings.

(Also, I do recommend always supporting comic creators by purchasing their comics legitimately. I own each issue of these comics having bought other editions of them all legitimately. The reason I put this post together is because this specific Library Edition volume has been discontinued and the consequently-inflated cost is so high, rendering the additional material inaccessible to most.)

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The Silent Grove annotations

Illustrator Chad Hardin: “I used to be an environmental artist for video games, so I built a 3-D model of Antiva City using the program Silo. Many of the buildings are simple cubes, but a few are more detailed. Overall, I spent the better part of a day building it, but I used it again and again throughout The Silent Grove to maintain continuity in the backgrounds.”

Script Writer Alexander Freed: “Even working with David Gaider, it took me several drafts to find Alistair’s voice. His narrative had to convey his humor and self-doubt from Dragon Age: Origins while suggesting a newfound weariness earned during his years on the throne. For readers familiar with the character, he needed to seem like a changed Alistair - but Alistair nonetheless.”

Chad Hardin: “If you read a lot of comics, you might wonder why the majority of the heroes wear skin-tight suits. Well, I can tell you: they are easy and quick to draw. In video games, you build the model once and then animate it, so details don’t slow you down. In comics, everything has to be rendered by hand. Varric and Alistair’s outfits were quite detailed. It took me a long time to get used to them, and even longer to memorize the designs until drawing them was second nature - Varric’s knee armor in particular! Oy vey!”

David Gaider: “One of my favorite scenes in the entire series [when Varric and Isabela are disarming traps and picking locks together while Alistair looks on]. Isabela and Varric, doing what rogues do. I had a suggestion for how to put it together, but Alex managed to make it fit and did a great job with it.”

Chad Hardin: “I never used to keep any of the artwork I created for comics. I would just hand the pages over to my agent to sell. This page [when Alistair, Varric and Isabela are in a tavern together, with hookah in the foreground] I kept for myself. I love the hookah-smoking elves in the second panel and Isabela’s face in the last panel. I rendered the first four chapters of The Silent Grove in grayscale using ink washes, gouache and Copie markers.”

David Gaider: “For a little while, Varric [in these comic stories] was supposed to be Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins, which would have made sense, Zevran being Antivan and all. I know that some fans would have loved to see him, but the dynamics of the group just didn’t work as well. Then a planned cameo later had to be cut for space. Ah well, Zev, another time.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela at her most dangerous [climbing up the side of the cliff]. This scene - featuring a scantily clad, dripping-wet woman who tends to flaunt her sexuality - could easily have come across as exploitative, but Chad did a lovely drop portraying Isabela as purely focused and deadly.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela rising out of the water and scaling the cliff with the knife in her mouth is one of my favorite parts of The Silent Grove. It is one of those moments where the writing really inspired the art. Hats off to Alex and David. This is another page I kept for myself.”

Colorist Michael Atiyeh: “This is one of my favorite Dragon Age pages. Chad is such an amazing artist; I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love that this page [when a guard spots Varric and shouts ‘Intruder!’] made it in uncensored. So many times in comics, I draw something and some stuffy lawyers come out of the woodwork and tell me to tone it down. Dark Horse and BioWare always let me have fun, and this turned out to be one of my favorite pages with Varric and Bianca. Any guesses to which word he is mouthing in the second panel?”

Alexander Freed: “Note the simple decency of Alistair as he gives his cloak, without comment, to Isabela. For all his flaws, he’s genuinely kind at heart - a rare enough trait in Isabela’s world that I think it’s much of what she values in him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love the opening panel to this chapter [the opening panels to Chapter 3, when the team are on a ship at sea]. It’s the image I use on the homepage of my website. This page was a gift to my cousin Wendy, who loves pirates. Seascapes with sailing ships might be clichéd in fine art, but for me it was a first.”

David Gaider: “I wanted to have this story center on the group travelling to a Witch of the Wilds other than Flemeth, and originally I had set it somewhere else - until I remembered a Codex entry from Dragon: Age Origins that offhandedly mentioned a witch in the Tellari Swamps. Brilliant! It’d look like I planned it all along. I didn’t.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love opportunities where I can show a change in the time of day as you move from panel to panel [when the ship heads towards and the team arrive in the Tellari Swamps]. I feel the palette of each panel is very distinct and beautiful.”

Alexander Freed: “Why did Alistair choose two people he barely knows to be his companions on this quest? We never make this explicit, but of course Varric is on the right track. Alistair wants to surround himself with people who don’t know him and won’t judge him, yet it’s Alistair’s idealism that Isabela and Varric work to preserve.”

Chad Hardin: “Another page where the writing inspired the art [when the group suddenly encounter a dragon]. I love the dragon bursting onto the scene and Isabela’s stare. Some writers will try to cram six or seven panels on a page like this and the pacing just doesn’t allow the artist to give each moment the right punch. Can you imagine if the first panel was crammed into a single square inch?”

Chad Hardin: “Yavana was one of the only characters that we did no preliminary sketches for. I don’t know how that happened, but thankfully it worked out.”

David Gaider: “I love how Yavana looks like a cross between Flemeth and Morrigan. Flemmigan? She’s totally Chad’s design, and it’s great. Typical for these witches, she never says things straight. In my mind, this Alistair is the one who did the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins - and I was half-tempted to have him lose his cool in this first scene [opening panels of Chapter 4] with her. Too early, though.”

Alexander Freed: “Through this whole sequence [the page when Varric aims Bianca at Yavana], Yavana is dropping cryptic hints and Alistair is refusing to play along. He’s met Flemeth and Morrigan - he knows Yavana won’t give him a straight answer, and he won’t give her the satisfaction of asking needlessly.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Sometimes it’s the little things on a page that spark my interest. Here [when the team navigate vines and mud to get to the temple], the sunset panel came out great and the mud looks really thick and gooey. It’s fun to focus on these details and make them stand out.”

Chad Hardin: “I hated drawing this scene [when Isabela gets kicked] where Isabela gets the boot to the face. Call me old fashioned, but I was raised to believe that only a coward would ever hit a woman (even a battle-hardened pirate adventurer). I draw at home, and my girls often watch me work in my studio. This was a page I didn’t want them watching me draw. I do like, though, that Isabela gets up, yanks the arrow out, and then soldiers on (and later extracts brutal revenge).”

Michael Atiyeh: “Poor Isabela. It seems I gave her more bruises and black eyes than any of the other characters. [when Isabela is yanking the arrow out]”

Chad Hardin: “It’s always interesting to go back and look at artwork because it reminds me of what was going on in my life at the time. I inked this page [opening panels of Chapter 5] at a ‘draw night’ session at an anime convention in St. George, Utah. I was one of the special guests, but I missed the first day because I was at my grandfather’s funeral in Las Vegas, Nevada. Seeing this page brought back those memories.”

David Gaider: “‘Bianca says hello.’ [quoting the panels being referenced] I adore Varric. I was tempted to have him narrate the entire series [in reference to these three comics], but then again I liked the idea of having each series center on one of the trio’s viewpoints. This book belongs to Alistair, but that doesn’t stop Varric from getting all the best lines.”

Alexander Freed: “Claudio, of course, is not a terribly sympathetic figure. But I wanted to emphasize that he takes this fight as personally as Isabela - he sincerely loved Luis and blames Isabela for the man’s death. I think it’s important to give every character, even the most loathsome, some dignity. [when Isabela and Claudio are fighting]”

Chad Hardin: “Payback! Here is where Isabela extracts her revenge on Claudio [when Isabela stabs Claudio]. I never enjoyed killing off a character so much. I particularly enjoyed putting the look of shock in his eyes. He had it coming. There is something satisfying about killing a ‘made man’.”

Chad Hardin: “Every now and then when drawing comics, I wish I could animate some panels and watch them as a cartoon. It would be great to see this sequence [when Yavana catches Claudio’s soul] in full motion as Yavana snatches Claudio’s soul, makes it reenter his corpse and then extracts information from him until he bursts into flame. It was a very Hellboy-ish moment. I enjoyed the movie that played in my mind while drawing this scene. Hope everyone liked the result.”

Chad Hardin: “As I mentioned on page 17, I rendered the first four chapters in grayscale, which made the black-and-white art look great, but had a neutralizing effect when it came to colors. By the time I drew chapter 4, I had seen the effect it was having and decided to stop using the grayscale so the colors would pop. When I saw this page [when Alistair says to Yavana ‘And we helped you find it’] in print, it confirmed to me that I made the right decision. I honestly feel this art was the best of The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I practically painted these pages [when Yavana says ‘It is permitted. Tonight and only tonight’] in thumbnails hoping it would help me choose how to render them in ink. It is so hard trying to figure out how to get a full range of value out of just black and white. There are some artists and inkers that make this look easy. Mark Schultz comes to mind. Michael saved my bacon. Colorists really do so much work when it comes to rendering; this page came out awesome because of him.”

David Gaider: “Here we reveal the existence of Great Dragons (as opposed to High Dragons), and also that Yavana was the source of the return of dragons to Thedas after their departure for so many centuries. But why? There’s the rub, and not even Alistair can trust that she’s telling him the truth.”

David Gaider: “Here’s the controversial scene [Alistair killing Yavana]. I think some fans don’t like that Alistair did this, and have said they consider it out of character. I don’t. From his perspective, Flemeth and her daughters have been toying with the world for reasons that can’t be trusted. They dragged Maric away from his family, from him. One might think his judgement foolish, but considering what Alistair was capable of deciding even back in Dragon Age: Origins, it’s certainly not out of character.”

Chad Hardin: “[same scene as above] This was a controversial page, and there were a lot of people who thought it was out of character for Alistair to kill Yavana (I didn’t see it coming - I mean, you just don’t kill a Witch of the Wild), but here is the thing: this page is Alistair acting as a king. Yavana has been manipulating him, trying to play him like a pawn, and he just can’t allow that. There’s too much at stake, for himself and for his subjects.”

Alexander Freed: “The end? An end, at least [the trio walking off into the distance]. The series needed a note of closure while leading into Those Who Speak (which wouldn’t arrive until many months later). David tweaked the ending in the outline several times, and I did my best to balance resolving Alistair’s emotional journey without resolving the quest. It’s not as clean as I’d have liked, but fortunately, now it’s all in one volume...”

Those Who Speak annotations

Alexander Freed: “Capturing Isabela’s narrative voice was much easier for me than capturing Alistair’s - partly because I’d already written The Silent Grove, and partly because of my own writing proclivities. Rereading now, I wonder if I laid on the (mild) profanity a bit too thick. I’ll leave you to judge.”

David Gaider: “I like the additional detail Alex and Chad put in, letting us see more of Qarinus and more of Isabela’s crew. Alex wanted to give her crew more of a presence, and let her first mate have some face time, so they weren’t just parts of the scenery. Good call on his part.”

David Gaider: “I’m really fond of the formal getups Chad made for the party. Isabela’s actually comes from a concept we didn’t use from the cancelled Dragon Age 2 expansion, if I remember right. And Maevaris came from me asking for ‘someone who looks like Mae West’ - with the wonderful outfit all Chad’s doing.

Chad Hardin: “Maevaris. I love Mae. When David and Dragon Age art director Matthew Goldman spoke to me about designing Mae, they wanted her to be fully female with the exception of her biology. They told me to think ‘Mae West’. Well, when I think of Mae West, I think of her... womanly shape. So, drawing Maevaris was always walking a fine line between portraying Mae’s identity and her biology. The process endeared her to me.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Just like in The Silent Grove, we are introduced to another gentleman from Isabela’s past [when the team meet Lord Devon and Isabela threatens him]. As was the case with Claudio, he will meet his fate at her hands.”

Chad Hardin: “When I was drawing Titus, my kids asked me why I was drawing ‘angry Jesus’ or ‘evil Jesus’. I can’t remember which term they used exactly, but it made me chuckle. I was going for a mix of Rapustin and Joe Stalin, but ‘evil Jesus’ would do.”

David Gaider: “I’m not sure it’s apparent here [when Alistair says ‘I’d really rather not’], but Alistair was supposed to be using one of his Templar powers on Titus (that’s why Titus recognizes what he is on the next page) and disrupting his magic.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela is witty and charming enough that it can be easy to forget that she’s not, in fact, a nice person. Even after finishing the outline, David was concerned about making her too unsympathetic - but I loved his approach in this series. The dark deeds Isabela commits - this murder included [Isabela killing Lord Devon] - are what make her guilt tangible and no easy matter to overcome.”

Alexander Freed: “I thought the notions of Isabela’s pride in her captaincy and dedication to her crew were some of the most interesting aspects of her character in David’s story. In scenes here [when Isabela is on her ship saying ‘Keep them focused and keep them sober’] and elsewhere, I did my best to emphasize their place at the core of Isabela’s world.”

Chad Hardin: “Most of the time I draw from imagination, but because of the complexity of this page [Qunari trying to board Isabela’s ship] I decided it would work better if I had photo reference. On this page are my nephews Jared (Varric) and Adam, my niece Melissa, my kids Erica, Tasey Michaela (Isabela) and Chad (Alistair), my friend’s daughter Amy, my wife Joy, and the neighborhood kids as Isabela’s pirate crew. (The crew member mooning the Qunari is out of my ol’ noodle.) I paid their modelling fee in pizza and root beer. Also, I had originally drawn cannons on Isabela’s ship, so if there are parts of it that look slightly wonky, chances are there was a cannon there.”

David Gaider: “Ever since the BioWare artists finally did a concept for female Qunari, I’ve been itching to include one in the game. It’s always slipped through my fingers, so I was going to be damned if I’d have a Qunari plot in a comic - without the same technical limitations - and not have one present.

Chad Hardin: “I had no idea this was the first time anyone outside of BioWare had seen a female Qunari.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I really like the lighting in this sequence [Isabela in her cell thinking ‘I haven’t eaten in days’], especially the strong white light and the characters in shadow.”

David Gaider: “The entire sequence of Rasaan interrogating Isabela was something I plotted out in detail when this series began. Here they discuss names - something treated in a manner peculiar to the Qunari, considering how much importance they apply to what things are called (and not called), because it forms the core of their identity. Isabela brushes it off, but as we find out later it’s also at the core of her identity. I liked that parallel.”

Alexander Freed: “To balance out the relatively static talking pages elsewhere in the issue, I hoped to make the interrogation and flashback sequences beautiful and full of information. I proposed an approach to Chad, and he wisely reshaped it into what you see here [the page with the scene where Isabela says ‘I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes’]. Anything that succeeds on these pages should be credited to him; anything that fails is my fault.”

Chad Hardin: “Probably the most challenging spread I have ever done. My friend Stacie Pitt was the model for Isabela on this page, and my wife Joy was Rasaan. I saved these pages [around the scene when Rasaan says ‘Mistakes can be corrected’] for myself.”

David Gaider: “Sten from Dragon Age: Origins becoming the new Arishok of the Qunari was something we'd planned even during Dragon Age 2. This was a great opportunity to show that, and also to show that Sten didn’t acquire horns even despite the makeover the Qunari received in DA2. Hornless Qunari are considered special, and Sten is no exception.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I think that David, Alex and Chad handled Isabela’s flashback [to when she was sold by her mother] in an interesting way, and it created a nice flow to the story.”

David Gaider: “This was a controversial scene [what happened to the slaves Isabela was transporting], the end result of a lot of discussions between me and Isabela’s original writer on the team, and it went through a lot of revisions over that time. It needed to fit with the story Isabela told the player in DA2, but fill in the blanks of what she didn’t tell. We didn’t want Isabela to be someone who became who she is because she was ‘broken’ but instead as a result of her own actions - yet also not be completely beyond redemption.”

Chad Hardin: “These were hard pages [as above] to draw. It was difficult knowing that events such as this are part of human history, such as the Zong massacre in 1781, where the British courts ordered the insurers to reimburse the crew of the Zong for financial losses caused by throwing slaves overboard when faced with a lack of water. Horrifying beyond words.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Here, Isabela visits here crew, and I wanted to play up that she was in the light and they were in a dark cell. The light streaming through the bars gave me the opportunity to highlight Brand, who also had dialogue in the scene.”

Alexander Freed: “I struggled to find a way for Varric to contribute to victory without distracting from Alistair and Sten’s big fight. I’m happy with the solution: a brazen lie seemed appropriate to the character without taking away from the main show.”

David Gaider: “I believe my original plan had Isabela’s and Alistair’s fight scenes happening separately, but I like how Alex intertwined them in the script and I especially like how this ends up highlighting the differences between their characters when their fights are resolved. Isabela is defiant, revealing her name not because Rasaan demands it but because it’s her choice. In both cases, mercy is strength.”

Michael Atiyeh: “The brush I created for the clouds really gave them a nice watercolor effect here [on the deck of the ship, Sten calling Alistair ‘kadan’]. That brush has become a staple in my toolbox.”

Alexander Freed: “With the strong theme of names running through these issues, I liked the notion that Isabela had outgrown being, well, ‘Isabela’. When her name comes up in Until We Sleep, it’s largely played with ambiguity.”

Until We Sleep annotations

Alexander Freed: “The story of ‘Arthur’ is one of my favorite minor sequences [Varric infiltrating and fighting his way into the fortress]. It tells us something about Varric and it delivers plot information - and it’s also a reminder that our heroes kill an awful lot of people during these series and cope with it in their own ways. In general, writing Varric let me skirt the edge of metacommentary, which I greatly enjoyed.”

David Gaider: “Varric, as always, is my ‘voice of the narrator’. Here he’s expressing some of my own amusement at Alistair’s growing list of peculiarities [‘Your majesty is quite the special snowflake’]. To think, back at the beginning of Dragon Age: Origins he was just the player’s goofy sidekick who grew up in a barn.”

Michael Atiyeh: “By the third series, Until We Sleep, I really started to have a complete feel for what I wanted the final art to look like. As an artist, it’s important to continue to evolve and grow. The close-up of Sten’s face [same page as above] is a perfect example of how I wanted the rendering on the characters to look.”

Alexander Freed: “David’s outline called for a short, somber reveal of the Calenhad story by Sten. Fueled by my desire to avoid ‘talking heads’ sequences, I scripted it as a full-on storytelling flashback. David made sure the history worked (at least from the Qunari point of view), and Chad did a beautiful job handling it in a mere two pages.”

David Gaider: “Blood is important in Dragon Age, as a theme. Here we tie in the dragon blood that was mentioned all the way back in The Silent Grove and explain what it means at last. I was a bit hesitant to tarnish the legend of Calenhad the Great in this way, but I comfort myself with the knowledge this tale is but a viewpoint and not necessarily the entire truth.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Titus melting the attacker is a great example of classic comicbook storytelling and exactly what made me fall in love with the medium.”

David Gaider: “I was really happy with how Chad handled the reveal of Mae as transgender [the scene with Mae in the cell]. My worry was that Varric finding her disrobed might be potentially titillating, but I think he handled it nicely. I only wish there was more time to have Mae properly respond to being exposed in this manner, even to a friend.”

Chad Hardin: “I originally drew Mae as female [same scene as above], then changed her anatomy, so the psychological violation and humiliation she felt would be the focus. Hope that came across.”

Chad Hardin: “When in doubt, have Bianca shoot it [Varric shooting the artifact].”

David Gaider: “This scene [Varric and Bianca the dwarf] with Varric was one I wanted to do for a very long time. We’ve hinted that Varric’s crossbow was named after a real person, someone he never wants to talk about. Now I finally had the chance to show why.”

Chad Hardin: “Of all my Dragon Age pages, this scene was hands down my favorite, because Varric is my favorite. It was awesome to get to draw Bianca in her dwarven form. These scenes give you a glimpse of the love Varric and Bianca shared. It doesn’t tell you the whole story, but you can assume plenty from what is shown. You get to see Varric mostly naked (you’re welcome), but most of all you witness Varric’s heartbreak. I felt privileged to draw it. I got so obsessed with drawing this page I did an entire watercolor painting based on the last panel [Varric gets up to leave, ‘This isn’t right’ - ? or perhaps the scene where he opens the door to leave].”

Alexander Freed: “Unreliable narrators are always tricky - done wrong, they can just confuse the reader. But I’m fairly happy with Varric’s lies throughout this series, most of which are used to downplay the emotional cost of events rather than whitewash the events themselves.”

Michael Atiyeh: “This palette worked perfectly [Varric standing in front of the doorway/portal in the Fade proper], but I can’t take all the credit because BioWare provided reference for the Fade. I added the hot orange energy for the doorway, which looks great with the sickly green sky.”

David Gaider: “This scene [Isabela’s Fade nightmare] was actually inspired by a fan named Allegra who did a cosplay as a Qunari version of Isabela. I knew I wanted something like this for Isabela’s Fade section of the comic, but it didn’t really solidify until I saw the cosplay.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela is more affected by her encounter with Rasaan than we were led to believe. A portent of things to come?”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love this shot of Mae in the fourth panel [on the page where Isabela is affected by vines]. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention what a great character she is in the series, and Chad captures her beautifully in this shot.”

Alexander Freed: “I saw this issue as a sort of downbeat victory lap. Over the course of the previous series, our protagonists largely came to terms with the inner demons the Fade confronts them with here. The fact they’ve come so far lets them win this last battle... but they still have scars that will never completely disappear.”

David Gaider: “Maric was in the first two novels I wrote for Dragon Age. Seeing Chad’s rendering of him as a regal, grown-up version of Alistair made me incredibly nostalgic. Some characters you just never let go of.”

Alexander Freed: “I feel Varric’s lines (‘tell yourself the stories you need to tell’ but ‘never live your own lies’) are the natural endpoint of all the exchanges he’s had with Alistair, starting from the end of Chapter 1 of The Silent Grove. And of course it plays off the story of ‘Arthur’, as well.’’

Chad Hardin: “I’m happy with the way Titus came off in these pages [Titus attacking and saying ‘The last magisters of Tevinter were so close’]. He looks threatening and powerful when fighting Alistair, Isabela and Varric, but genuinely confused by his inability to defeat Maric. Bye-bye, evil Jesus.”

Alexander Freed: “I can’t help but feel for Titus. He was unthinkably corrupt, but I see him as genuinely motivated by Tevinter’s glory. (The fact Alistair reads zealous ideology as a lust for power says a lot about both characters.)”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love the seamless transition of color from Titus’ magic to the dragon breath and then back into the orange remnants of his magic in the smoke. This was a really fun panel to color [Titus saying ‘Die by what wrought you’].”

David Gaider: “‘You are not the dreamer here. I am.’ I always have a scene or a line that’s in my head when I begin a tale, and this line of Maric’s was one I wanted all the way back when I started working on The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I love this page [Maric and Alistair clasping hands]; Mike’s colors are spot on. We get to see all our heroes in an ideal state for the last time. This is the last Dragon Age page I saved for myself.”

David Gaider: “This scene kills me [Alistair destroying the Magrallen]. I knew it needed to happen; I knew I wanted it to happen even back when I began the story. Alistair lets Maric remain in the Fade rather than dragging him back to a world which has moved on. Alistair’s ready to move on, but forcing him to give up that hope... it makes me feel like a bad person.”

Chad Hardin: “Heartbreak for Alistair as he realizes that once again, as a king, he must kill: this time, his own father (granted, the Magrallen did most of the work). I really like how Maric crumbles away in the end. This was my last page, and the emotions on the page and in my studio were very final. Altogether, this was a year of my life in the making. On my last page, I wrote a thank you to everyone involved, the crew at Dark Horse and the crew at BioWare. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank them again. It was a thrill. Finally, a huge thank-you to the Dragon Age fan community, whose support was overwhelmingly awesome.”

Michael Atiyeh: “As the story came to an end, I knew I was going to miss these characters. Writing these annotations reinforces the fact that I hope to work with this great creative team again one day. Many thanks to Dark Horse and BioWare for the opportunity to work on Dragon Age.”

Alexander Freed: “The tension between the art and the narration on this page [the one with Alistair sitting on his throne while nobles argue] is something you can only pull off in comics. Neither tells the full, bittersweet story alone. Similarly, these issues wouldn’t have been possible without everyone on the team; thanks to David, Chad, Michael, and everyone I lack space to list!”

Additional pages / art

Library Edition Volume 1 also came with some additional pages, with additional art and commentary. These are as follows (I’m including them for the sake of completion, click the links to see):

1. Alistair and dragon concepts

2. Rasaan and Maevaris concepts

3. Sten, Titus and Yavana concepts

4. A series of cover pages 1

5. A series of cover pages 2

In case anyone has trouble reading the notes that accompany these images, I’ve transcribed them below:

1. Dragon Age Sketch Book

Alistair Concept 

Dragon Age / Dark Horse

Chad Hardin: “The headshot of Alistair is from a finished sketch with a rejected armor design. In order to save time, the redrawing was completed on the computer, where tweaks and changes are quick and easy, if somewhat less glorious.”

[Dragon] Head #1 / Head #2

Chad Hardin: “Everyone liked this dragon sketch so much that Dark Horse printed it for signings at conventions. You can see I did multiple proposals for the dragon’s head. It was more effective than drawing the body over and over.”

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2. [arrow pointing to Mae’s sleeve] concealed [I think that’s what it says anyway] daggers / shurikens?

Chad Hardin: “When designing Rasaan and Maevaris, I wasn’t exactly sure how their roles would play out in the series. Maevaris’ outfit was inspired by brothel madams of the Wild West. I thought it would be cool to have some weapons concealed in the formal wear. These never came into play in the series, but they were there in my mind.”

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3. Chad Hardin: “Although we only see Titus in his battle garb in one issue, I really liked the design of his armor. The sketch of Yavana was done on the fly and served as both a rough preliminary sketch and as a panel layout. You have to work hard and smart in comics to keep up with the deadlines.”

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4. Cover Artist Anthony Palumbo: “This was my first assignment for Dark Horse, and I was both excited and nervous. I drew pencil sketches of the main characters, scanned them and played with different arrangements, poses and color schemes in Photoshop.”

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5. Anthony Palumbo: “Fellow illustrator Winona Nelson helped me by sitting for photo reference. I created the mock-jewelry with gold-painted Sculpey. That’s a quick photo of my own gaping maw, to help with the image of Varric.”

[wonderlustlucas]

mistletoe? oh no! - im jaebeom

⇢ prompt Why do we kiss under a mistletoe when it’s a parasitic plant that steals nutrients from its host tree? ⇢ pairing jaebeom x female reader ⇢ word count 6.9k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. alcohol. suggestive make out at the end :D ⇢ summary Six months ago, you drunkenly kissed Im Jaebeom on a beach trip with your friends. Afterward, the awkward tension kept the two of you from ever having the ‘What are we?’ talk and eventually, too much time had passed for anything to ever happen. Luckily, Pollyanna and a stupidly placed mistletoe have brought your feelings to the boiling point.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n happy new year’s my loves! as one last hurrah for 2019 & as part of @kwritersworld‘s holiday writing event, here is yet another idiots to lovers, christmas/nye au! here’s to a lovely new year, & new decade. i hope you all have a blessed, joyous, & prosperous year. i love you! ♥︎

You once thought that you were an introvert.

You know— someone deemed shy, with a preference to keep to themselves rather than going out of their way to interact with others. Introvert. Opposite of extrovert.

It wasn’t until you were a senior in high school did you learn new definitions for these personality categories. An introvert—according to your philosophy teacher and a TED Talk speaker shown on the projector during class—is someone who, simply put, thinks of how they feel before speaking. Extroverts, on the other hand, only identify their true feelings on a topic after they have begun discussing it.

The lesson stuck with you. Albeit your perpetual reservation from others, you were always one to argue. Smart, excellent report card over the years— but found yourself blurting your opinion out at the first chance before fully thinking it through. Now, you concluded, I suppose I’m an extrovert if that truly is what it means. This knowledge, for some strange reason, gave you a token for change. If I’m an extrovert, you thought, I must start acting one.

Now, having just been accepted into law school, you think you have hit the nail on the head when it comes to meeting both definitions of an extrovert. Park Jinyoung, on the other hand, has his doubts.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Have you really thought about what this is gonna do to your life?” Despite the genuine concern laced in his tone, Jinyoung’s words make you wince. How he manages to suck the life out of a celebratory night out for drinks truly is beyond you.

“Yes, Jinyoung,” you groan, taking a desperate sip of your coquito like it’s really going to help against his insufferableness, “I’ve only been working for this for a few years, let me change my mind now.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he counters, leaning in close enough for you to taste his Jo Malone fragrance on your tongue. You raise a skeptical brow at him. “Have you thought about what becoming a lawyer is going to make of your life?” His words are clipped and emphasized like he is speaking to a child, trying desperately to get his point across.

“I appreciate you looking out for me and my future, Jinyoung,” you sigh, reclining back in your bar stool because sitting that close to Jinyoung for that long makes your head dizzy, “but I promise you, I have thought about this. I know I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, but it’s what I want to do. I promise.”

Jinyoung huffs, defeated, before tipping his wine glass back and chugging what is left like some sort of animal. Very not Jinyoung-like. “Well, then I guess there’s no reason to not celebrate with you,” he grins. Then, not even a beat later, “When are you gonna make time to marry Jaebeom and have a bunch of sexy little babies?”

“Aw, for crying out loud!” You howl, slapping a hand to your forehead before turning to him with a pointed glare and a pointed finger. “Okay, first of all, the fact that you used sexy and babies in the same sentence concerns me. And second, stop saying me and Jaebeom are going to get married! He doesn’t even look at me, how do you equate marriage out of that?”

“You mean, you don’t look at him. You guys had a great time when we went to the beach not even six months ago, saw each other half naked, shared a drunken kiss before bed, and then dropped all communication! What the hell is up with that?” Jinyoung has a habit of lecturing you like it’s his full-time job and it drives you absolutely insane because he’s always right.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a lengthy sip just to buy some time. “Come on, ___. My boy is out here drowning in unrequited love while you’re just all ‘Teehee! I’m a lawyer! Don’t talk to me when I’m doing lawyer tings!’ Cut the bullshit and let him take you on a date and blow your back out for Christ’s sake!”

You are physically unable to suppress your laughter, hand flying to cover your mouth and head thrown back at his comical outburst. He’s lucky you love him or else he would seriously regret that outrageously inaccurate imitation of your voice. He’s lucky you are tipsy enough to lose yourself in laughter and he’s especially lucky that he is correct, once again.

“Jinyoung,” you wheeze, letting out one more breathless giggle before flipping on the serious mode switch, “I would love to not only go out on a date with Jaebeom, but to date him. But things got awkward and so much time as passed that suddenly starting things up again would be weird. Don’t you think?”

“No!” Jinyoung yells. Half the people at the bar jump at the noise and turn to glare. You do just the same before shooting an older gentleman beside Jinyoung an apologetic look. “I just don’t think you’re drinking enough.”

“Yes,” then, a pause to ask the bartender for the check now that Jinyoung’s lectures are starting to put a downer on you, “that’s exactly it. I’m afraid to get drunk off my ass when Jaebeom’s around because I’ll do something stupid and either scare him off or bring him home and both are terrible options!”

“You’re no fun,” Jinyoung scoffs, “my two best friends, both pining after one another, but pulling the sixteen-year-old card and not talking to each other. Great! Just great.”

You laugh, hopping down from your seat and patting his knee once you have slipped on your coat. “Buy a mistletoe for the Christmas party and maybe something can be arranged.”

Jinyoung doesn’t find it funny.

For the past six years, it has been tradition for you and your friends to have a belated Christmas slash New Year’s party where Pollyanna gifts are exchanged and an excessive amount of alcohol is consumed because, well, your friends are fun. For the past three, however, you have been holding said party at Youngjae’s house, because he is the only one who has a house and houses are infinitely better for parties than apartments. Plus, Youngjae is a gracious man who welcomes the company year after year. Can’t understand why he wants nine psychopaths in his lovely little abode, but that’s not your problem.

What is your problem is the fact that there actually is a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. You’re going to kill Jinyoung.

You once thought Choi Youngjae was the coolest person to bless the planet. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s the first thing your eye goes to upon entering Youngjae’s outrageously beautiful row home. Usually, you need a solid ten minutes to accept the fact that you will never become a model and have as many zeroes at the end of your savings as Youngjae, spending way too much time swooning over his grey vinyl wood floors and brick fireplace and white marble countertops. This time, however, while Jinyoung and Yugyeom do the whole bro hug greeting after wiping the snow from their shoes, you stand pressed up awkwardly against the front door, crockpot of buffalo chicken dip in hand, glaring at the stupid thing from two rooms over. Before you can turn an accusing finger to Jinyoung, Youngjae has turned to welcome you.

“You made it!” He cheers, flashing that thousand-watt smile of his and easing some of the tension that has begun to build up in your nerves like plaque. “Somehow, someway,” you return, relaxing into his embrace when he curves around the precious chicken dip to offer a half hug. “You need a drink,” Youngjae decides after having evaluated the lack of excitement in your response. Following after Jinyoung and Yugyeom, he leads you into the kitchen with a lively bounce to his step. “Bambam just finished making hot toddies, or you could be the first to take from our jell-o shot Christmas tree.”

He gestures to said “tree” on his dining table, a neatly stacked pile of green, red, and blue jell-o shots and you feel awfully terrible at having to ruin its perfected assembly. “It’s beautiful,” you muse, setting the crockpot on the counter and plugging its cord into an outlet, “it would be my honor to have the first one.”

“___!” Hollers Jackson as he slides open the door from the back patio and enters the kitchen, Maggie filing in after him. He must have joined her for a smoke outside. He proceeds to do a little dance shimmy as he makes his way over to you. “Jackson, my love,” you grin, squeezing him into a tight hug after he slaps a messy kiss to your cheek. “How are you, Miss I-Got-Accepted-Into-Law-School?”

That is going to be the topic of discussion for the night, it seems, and the heat of an embarrassed blush works its way up your neck at the realization. “I’m good. Really good, actually,” you say, directing your attention to Maggie who slips around Jackson to tuck into your side, “definitely not as stressed as I was. The holidays are a nice break from everything.”

“We’re all so proud of you,” Maggie hums, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Seriously, congratulations, again. You deserve it,” Jackson praises, reaching to squeeze your cheek. You swat his hand away in fear he will mess up the foundation you spent way too much time applying.

“Thank you, guys. I’m glad someone is happy for me,” you grumble, directing a cold glare to Jinyoung who, somehow, has already managed to fire Yugyeom up.

“What?” Bambam interjects, jumping into the conversation now that he has made his way into the room. “Didn’t you guys go out when you got accepted?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, smiling to the very expensive looking boy, “but he’s more worried than excited. Thinks I’m not considering how becoming a lawyer is going to affect my future, the stress of it, having a family, but…”

Maggie scoffs. “God, he sounds like your dad.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Ugh! Everyone, shoo! Why are we all in the kitchen? Go sit in the living room,” Youngjae hisses, grabbing Bambam by the shoulders and shoving him out of the room. Bambam makes a sound of protest, gesturing dramatically to all the food and the pot of hot toddy still on the stove.

“You can come back when there isn’t an entire crowd in here,” Youngjae counters, slapping a handful of jell-o shots into his hands, “I made Yugyeom promise to not eat all of ___’s dip, you don’t need to worry.” Bambam grumbles in response, stumbling after the others and you follow suit with a laugh.

Pausing just before the living room, Bambam stops to pass everyone a shot. “Here’s to Christmas and getting Jaebeom and ___ to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“Stop!” You whine, just as the rest ‘clink’ their cups and shout, “Cheers!” Nevertheless, down the hatch the jell-o goes and you glare at them all once they are done.

“Oh, speak of the Devil,” Yugyeom snickers just as you have ran ahead to crash down on the sofa, stretching your legs out across the chaise. Rolling over off your stomach, you turn to watch Mark, Jaebeom, and Shelby arrive, one too many gift bags and bottles of wine in hand. “Oh,” Maggie whispers from beside you, elbow nudging into your side, “look at your man.”

Funny thing is, you already are. To give you the benefit of the doubt— you were already watching the trio stumble into the room anyway, but it just so happened you stopped at Jaebeom. Before things between you got complicated, when you were just friends, he always had a way of stealing the oxygen from your lungs. Now is no different.

Dressed in black slacks, a white tee tucked in and a baby blue blazer to top it all off, Jaebeom looks nothing short of marvelous. He’s been growing his hair out, too, the black waves curling down to brush his cheekbones, screaming to be combed through with your fingers. And oh Christ, you can’t even begin to talk about the nose piercing. In the midst of your swooning, Jaebeom looks up after having deemed his sneakers clean enough to walk through Youngjae’s home, scanning the room before conveniently landing on you. The blush on both of your faces is instantaneous, hardly a second of maintaining eye contact before the embarrassment burns too hot and you turn away. Still, you can’t fight your smile.

Neither can he.

“Now the party’s started!” Mark hoots, swinging two bottles in the air like he’s asking for disaster. “Hurry and put everything down so we can play something,” Yugyeom whines from his seat across the room, pushing Jaebeom’s butt to move faster. “Patience is a virtue, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung comments, throwing a Hershey Kiss wrapper at him.

“Absolute children,” Maggie mutters. You hum in agreement.

“Do you wanna play the alphabet game?” Bambam proposes, earning a groan from Jackson. He hates the game, despite how often you all play it, claiming it takes too much brain power for a party.

“Yes! I’m down,” Shelby shouts anyway, having returned in time to hear Bambam’s question. To Jackson’s misery, you all agree as well.

“Youngjae!” Bambam shouts, waiting for him to yell back. “Grab the peppermint vodka when you come in! We’re playing the alphabet game!”

The way you all play most likely has deviated from the original rules of the game, but it works and it’s fun. Sitting in a circle, you go through the alphabet, naming something in a certain category that begins with whatever letter you’re on. For example, if you were doing fruits and were on the letter W, you could say watermelon. But, the person to your right is counting to ten, and once that time is up, you have to take a shot and the letter moves on to the next person until someone gets a word. Sounds easy, until you’re three shots in and not even halfway through the alphabet.

With Shelby collapsing down between Yugyeom and Jackson on the love seat, Youngjae on the armchair by the fireplace, and Mark on the bean bag brought down from upstairs, you realize with a rising sense of panic that the only possible seating for Jaebeom is by—

“Hey,” he says, tapping your outstretched legs, “can I sit here? You can keep your legs stretched. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure, sure!” You squeak, jerking to sit up and to pull your legs to your chest. However, just as he sits, he grabs your ankles to tug them back. Hesitantly, and with an appreciative smile sent his way, you hesitantly lay your legs over his lap, his arms comfortably rested over them. Oh, fuck.

Swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way your heart flutters in her chest, you turn back to your friends where the game is just starting.

“Okay, I’ll start since I’m in the middle,” Mark announces, readjusting himself in the bean bag to sit closer to the coffee table, “Yugyeom, you count. Actually, you don’t need to, I already have my word. A, as in artificial tree.”

“One word, idiot,” Youngjae scoffs, smacking the back of Mark’s head, “take a shot. Yugyeom, you go.”

The younger boy pales, panicking when Mark does as he is told. Then, he blurts, “A as in angel!”

“B as in bells!” Shelby shouts.

“C as in… Christmas,” Jackson says with a wink.

“D as in December,” Jinyoung hums nonchalantly.

“E as in eggnog!” Bambam cheers.

“F as in…” Maggie pales, trailing off. In your head, you start to count, while simultaneously trying to think of a holiday word that starts with F. “Festive!” She shouts suddenly. “Oh, shit, um… G as in… gingerbread?” You huff, relieved.

“H as in holiday,” Jaebeom says with a soft smile. All eyes are on Youngjae as he stares hopelessly at the ceiling. “I, as in…”

In your head, you count alongside Mark. “What the fuck starts with I?” Youngjae hisses, slapping his knees anxiously. The silence is deafening until Mark shouts with a sadistic grin, “TEN!” Youngjae hangs his head low before reaching for the bottle. Ironic, because Mark can’t think of a word, and neither can Yugyeom, Shelby, or Jackson. Jinyoung grins at their expense until it’s his turn. “Icicle,” he says without a beat.

“That’s not Christmas-y!” Yugyeom whines, hands thrown up dramatically. “Can you think of anything better, stupid?” Jinyoung fires back, evidently shutting him up. Poor Yugyeom, he can never win.

“J as in Jesus,” Bambam says with a laugh.

“K? Bruh, you gotta be joking,” Maggie sighs, throwing her head back against the sofa, trying to concentrate. “Ten,” you sigh sadly even though you counted to fifteen, patting her knee and Youngjae passes her the bottle. “Um, K as in…” Christ, you can’t think of anything either. Kris Kringle? No, two words, fuck.

“Ten!” Jaebeom chuckles, squeezing your calf and you quickly take a swig with a wince. The round goes all the way to Shelby, who happily yells, “Kings!”

The game drags on, keeping you all at the edge of your seats by the time U and V come around. When it comes to W, everyone has had one too many shots to be able to think quickly enough to come up with wreath. Except for Jinyoung, of course. You give up on Z, deciding there is no such word and you all let out a relieved breath at the game’s conclusion. “Does this mean we can eat now?” Jackson mumbles, far too gone for a party that has only started hardly an hour ago.

“Yes! I’m ravenous,” Bambam groans, helping his friend stand. Together, they’re the first to make way into the kitchen and you’re surprised Youngjae doesn’t chase after them to make sure they don’t knock anything over.

“Well,” Jaebeom yawns and you are suddenly mortified to realize that your legs are still casually stretched out over his lap. “That was fun.” Swinging your legs away and moving to sit up, you nod in agreement. “Very fun. Love watching you and Jinyoung outsmart us every time.”

“Hey,” he frowns, elbowing your arm now that you’re sitting upright beside him, “nobody could think of tree for T, but you did, so shush.” You turn to give him an unamused look. “That’s because Jinyoung was overthinking, and Maggie and Bam drank too much,” you laugh, standing with a stretch. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow. “What?” You ask, unsure of what that look means.

“Why does your snowman have a cape? Oh—” he starts, lifting the fabric attached to the winking snowman on your ugly sweater to find a carrot penis below the three buttons. Jaebeom breaks out into laughter, face scrunched up and head thrown back and it consequently makes you laugh, too. Well, if there was any person that was going to ask first, you’re glad it was him. “Was not expecting that,” he chuckles, wiping the tears that have accumulated at his eyes before rising to stand and oh, suddenly you feel so small with him standing so close to you like that. God, he’s beautiful, you admire. Without thinking, you brush away a tuft of hair that has fallen over his eye, just to see your favorite pair of moles. It isn’t until rosiness blooms across his cheekbones do you realize what you just did.

“Sorry,” you rush breathlessly, taking a step back and turning to make sure nobody saw that. Luckily, only Shelby and Yugyeom remain, too busy cozying up to one another to notice. “___!” Maggie shouts from the kitchen like some godsent angel whose purpose is to save you from awkward moments. “You have to come see this!”

You shoot Jaebeom an awkward smile before swinging around him and making a beeline for the kitchen. Idiot, you scold yourself before taking a deep breath and bringing a smile to your face. “What?” You hum, leaning your head on Maggie’s shoulder. All it is is a SnapChat story of someone you went to university with, a picture of an engagement ring, but you are beyond grateful she called you in. After she stops to take a selfie with you, you navigate around your friends to start a pile of food on your plate, everything from dim sum (thanks, Jackson), grilled pork belly, kimbap, bulgogi sandwiches, spaghetti (thanks, Jackson, part two), and, of course, tortilla chips with your buffalo chicken dip. Big plate for big brain.

Despite the crowdedness, thankfully you are able to avoid standing anywhere close to the mistletoe once Jaebeom enters the room only a few moments later. Finally making your way to the dining table, you let out a sigh of relief now that you don’t have to worry about anything looming above. Of course, your friends have a different idea.

“___,” Maggie purrs just as you have set your plate down, gazing at you expectantly and fluttering her lashes.

“What do you want?”

“Could you get a water for me? There’s bottles in the fridge. Pleeeaaase?” She sings. You wave her off, having already turned around. Can’t be mad at her, honestly; you forgot to grab something for yourself to drink, anyway. Pulling two bottles off the shelves and nudging the refrigerator door closed, you’re just trying to grab a potato chip from the bowl on the counter when Mark rounds the corner and trips over his own feet, coincidentally falling towards you but when you step back to avoid the red wine sloshing in his glass, Jinyoung has suddenly appeared behind you and you stumble over his foot.

It’s a good plan, you think, expecting Jaebeom to catch you like some fucking knight of shining armor and steady you just below the mistletoe, but unfortunately for them, you’re quick to reach for the counter and Jaebeom has literally just turned around in his search for silverware. Regaining your balance against the cabinets, you do not miss the group’s combined groan of disappointment and can’t help but triumphantly grin. “You okay, Mark?” You ask, spinning around and suppressing a laugh at the ‘please don’t kill me’ look in the older boy’s eyes. “Yep,” he coughs, stepping to the side as you brush past.

Dinner is tense, to say the least. Maybe it’s just you. You’re annoyed, beyond so, at your friends’ lack of maturity. Relatively speaking, yes, they are trying to help push you and Jaebeom in the right direction, but their ways of operation lack any beneficial qualities. This is your problem, and you have to deal with it yourself.

You stay quiet, for the most part, occupying your thoughts simply on eating and the approaching excitement of Pollyanna. When you all picked out of a hat a little over a month ago, you initially panicked at Bambam’s name looking back at you on the folded piece of paper. As it turned out, buying gifts for him ended up working out; first, you found matching sweaters for him and his cats, then a travel set for his Bleu de Chanel cologne, a mermaid blanket he had found an Instagram ad for and wouldn’t shut up about, and finally a gift card to his favorite Thai restaurant. What’s more exciting is finding out who has your gifts. Plus, everyone did incredibly well keeping quiet this year, managing to make it all the way without slipping who had who.

Unfortunately, your irritable emotions aren’t done for the night. After finishing your much needed, sobering meal, your goblin friends are prepared to have you and Jaebeom beneath that mistletoe if it’s the last thing they will ever do. Trying to clean up before everyone really gets trashed is an absolute nightmare, everyone taking part in the scheme of leaving just the two of you in the room, nudging him your way, asking you to help Jaebeom do this, help Jaebeom do that. It only gets worse once he realizes what they’re trying to do, curving around you like you have the plague and each time you make eye contact, you contemplate fleeing to the bathroom just to scream.

After what feels like ages spent in the stifling kitchen, you migrate back to the living room to finally, finally open gifts. Good riddance, mistletoe. At everyone’s look of general disappointment, you let out your umpteenth relieved sigh of the night and collapse back into your precious spot at the sofa. You know you’re getting old when you have only been out for two and a half hours and you’re already exhausted.

To make matters worse—or better, you can’t really tell at this point—Jaebeom also sits back down beside you. You can tell he’s anxious; he’s gone back and forth between picking at his nails and a scab on his jaw for a while now and you almost want to say something until you remember how deliberately he dodged you in the kitchen. Maybe, just maybe, a part of you had hoped he would have taken the opportunity and kissed you himself. Why would things ever be so simple?

“Alrighty, friends,” settling into his chair, Youngjae beams. “Let’s get this party started. We’ll go in the same circle as before.”

In turn, Mark flashes that boyish smile of his and leans across the table to pass a bag and small box to Jinyoung. “Ooh,” the younger boy hums excitedly, “thanks, Mark.” Next, Yugyeom hands Jackson a bag, Shelby slides a big box to Youngjae, and, breaking into a fit of laughter, Jackson ends up giving a bag right back to Yugyeom. Jinyoung passes Maggie her gift, and when Bambam rises to hand Jaebeom a hefty bag, you can’t help but miss the way he glances sadly to you before smiling gratefully at his friend and engulfing him into a hug. Suddenly, it dawns on you that there are only three other people left, and watch with an impending sense of dread as Maggie walks across the room to give Shelby her gift. Two left.

Grinning excitedly, you lean over to pass Bambam his gift bag, earning a smile in return bright enough to put the Sun out of business. Now, the moment you all have been waiting for.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turn to Jaebeom, sending all prayers to God that he will rise to hand Mark the bag in his hands.

The universe laughs.

“Ugh,” Jaebeom groans, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “you’re so far.” He places the gift bag, which, is surprisingly heavier than expected, on your lap. “Thanks, Jae,” you manage, smiling fondly at him. Behind him, Youngjae drops a box by Mark’s feet, but by now everything around you has faded into the background, leaving only you and Jaebeom floating in the midst of it all. Even though he has turned away, you can’t stop staring at him. Why’d it have to be him? What are the chances? God, something tells you you’re going to fall in love by the time the night is over.

It isn’t until the tearing of wrapping paper registers in your mind do you snap out of it, coming back to reality and quickly redirecting your attention to opening your gift.

There’s a lot to unfold here, you think with a racing heart, removing the tissue paper and finding three separate items inside. You go for the small box first. It’s a jewelry box, no doubt, but this doesn’t keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay once you lift the beige lid to reveal a rose gold bracelet, diamonds in the pattern of a constellation. There’s a small card attached to the lid, too, and flipping that over you read that it is the constellation for your zodiac sign. “Jae,” you whimper, lips curling into a pout and he laughs at your touched expression. “This is beautiful.”

“Shh! Open everything first,” he hushes, waving you off and returning to his own gift.

Sucking in a deep breath, you do as you’re told and reach for the much larger box. Tearing open the wrapping paper and lifting the lid, you find a glass dome atop a wooden base, and inside is a beautiful red and gold rose with little fairy lights surrounding it. A Beauty and the Beast replicate, without a doubt, and it is so stunning you wish you could lift the glass and feel the fake rose for yourself. A man of taste, without a doubt.

Last but not least, you grab the envelope and excitedly tear it open, because envelopes mean one of three things: 1) a card 2) tickets 3) money, all unlikely options when it comes to Pollyanna.

Well, maybe not, because inside are two passes for the art museum up in the city. “Dude,” you kick Jaebeom’s ankle and stammer out, “how did you? When did you?”

He laughs. “You mentioned wanting to go a few months ago, and I didn’t think you ever got a chance. You haven’t, right?” He sounds worried. “No, I never got to go,” swallowing past the desert dryness of your throat, “thank you, Jaebeom. Everything is so beautiful.”

“Of course, ___,” he smiles, reaching for your hand and even though it’s only a gentle squeeze he gives you, it has your heart doing somersaults. “Anything for you.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You are going through some serious torture here and still won’t make a move!

Everyone is extraordinarily jovial after opening gifts. With Christmas music filling the room with cheer and one too many drinks being mixed, holiday charades and pin the nose on Rudolph are played with high spirits and excessive competitiveness. The night is fun, without a doubt, and you try to ignore the way your friends are still trying to get you and Jaebeom under the mistletoe no matter how annoying it may be. Why can’t they do it to Yugyeom and Shelby? Sure, everyone knows they fuck but neither of them have the balls to officially ask the other out, so why are you the one targeted? Jaebeom didn’t ask for this, either.

“Fuck!” Youngjae groans when Maggie makes her shot into their cup for jingle bell beer pong. Since freshman year, you and Maggie have fought back and forth for the champion's title against Youngjae and Jackson. With this being the second win against them for the night, you get to wear the label proud until next time. “Oh, yeah, baby!” She shouts, doing a funky celebratory dance before jumping to give you a hug.

“I’m a disgrace to the Chinese community,” Jackson cries—literally—before squatting to bury his face in his knees.

“HA!” You laugh mercilessly, jumping along with Maggie in triumph. “You guys are so mean,” Mark chuckles, walking away from their own losers’ championship to see what all the commotion is about. “Just to Youngjae and Jackson,” Maggie defends, gesturing to the pair having a drunken meltdown together. You hum in agreement.

“Yugyeom and Jaebeom are playing Jinyoung and Bambam. It’s pretty intense,” Mark explains, blatantly sarcastic when you glance curiously to the other table. “They’re all so drunk, they’re literally just throwing bells at each other.” He holds up one such bell that must have strayed away from the game. You laugh, hugging your jacket closer and watching Yugyeom begin to twerk when he finally makes a shot.

“My God,” Maggie snickers, shielding her eyes and turning away from the scene to comfort the still depressed Jackson.

“So,” Mark starts, “you and Jaebeom, huh?”

You groan. “Me and Jaebeom, what?”

“I mean, those gifts he gave you were pretty cute. What’s it gonna take for you to ask him to go to the museum with you, hm?” He purrs with a rise of his dark brows. Shit, he does have a point. Why else would Jaebeom give you two passes? To bring one of your other, definitely less artsy friends to go with you?”

Mark simpers at your speechless self, knowing he’s trumped you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you hold the cold air in long enough to gather your scrambling thoughts before releasing a heavy exhale with absolutely no change to how you feel. “I’ll try,” you grumble, “why can’t he make the first move?”

Mark lets out a dry laugh. “___, are you serious?”

“Huh? What—”

“He’s been making the first move for months,” he interrupts, shaking his head at your textbook definition denseness, “you’ve just been curving him the entire time. I know you’ve been busy with law school stuff the past few months, but come on, now. You have to grab him before someone else does.”

If it weren’t for the chill of the air keeping your cheeks and the tip of your nose cold and ruddy, you know the color would have drained from your face. Embarrassed and in desperate need for some space, you quickly turn away to look in the direction of the house, where Coco scratches at the backdoor.

“I, um, I’ll be right back,” you say, voice small. Heart hammering in your chest as you jog up the steps and across the small deck, it isn’t until you have slid open the door to let Coco out and closed it behind you do you let out a shaky sigh. “Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking off your jacket and slinging it over a chair before moving to cower in the corner. Reaching for what little tortilla chips are left, you anxiously take the lid off your chicken dip and begin shoveling mouthfuls into your mouth. Is it true? Have you really been the one dodging Jaebeom all this time? Sure, everyone always says it, especially Jinyoung, but it has seemed like Jaebeom has been curving you, too.

Maybe he has just been giving up.

This makes your head hurt, you think, bending down to rest your forehead against the counter. The fucking gifts, man. Mark is right—the bracelet, the rose lamp, the museum tickets. How did he remember that small detail you mentioned… when did you even mention it? You can’t remember, yet he did! Jesus, all this time you’ve wasted being an absolute clown over this. You’ll have to do something about it. Tonight, you decide, looking to the clock above the stove. 11:12 PM. Forty-eight minutes until New Year’s. You’ll kiss him, and that’s when you will—

“Ahem.” Behind you, someone clears their throat and it quite literally feels as if you have jumped out of your skin. “Jesus Christ!” You jump, spinning around with a heart thumping in your chest. Your heartbeat only mildly slows once you realize it’s only Jaebeom. OnlyJaebeom, yeah. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, chuckling awkwardly. “Did I interrupt something?”

You wince, beyond humiliated he caught you mid-pep talk slash breakdown. “No, no. You’re fine, I was just, um…”

“Catching a breath?” He finishes when you trail off. Maybe he’s not so drunk, after all.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking to your feet.

After a long moment of silence, Jaebeom clears his throat. “Listen, ___, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you, and—”

“Wait!” You interrupt before your brain has even caught up. His eyes widen in surprise at your sudden excitement. “I need to tell you something, first.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” he laughs nervously, stepping closer to lean against the counter beside you and his proximity suddenly makes it very hard to breathe, let alone figure out what you want to say.

“I don’t know where to start. Okay, um, first, I guess. The gifts you gave me? Amazing. Probably one of the best I’ve ever gotten. So thank you, really,” you start, rushed and out of breath. Jaebeom hums, lips tilting into an amused smirk. You don’t miss how he leans just barely closer. “Second. Mark was just talking to me, and he said something that just… fucked me up. Apparently, I’m good at school but not at catching when someone actually, truly likes me.”

At this, Jaebeom’s curiosity has peaked and his heartbeat starts to mirror your own. “I don’t know how this happened. I know we kissed over the summer, and you have been my friend for years but all of a sudden, I realized that I like you. You’re like, one of my favorite people in the world. But then things got crazy busy and I told myself I needed to concentrate, but for fuck’s sake, I’m still head over heels for you after all this time. And Mark said that if I don’t stop curving you, soon you are going to find someone else and, Jesus, I don’t think I can live with myself if I let you slip by.”

Somewhere in the middle of your ramble, Jaebeom has pressed himself to you and curled a finger through a belt loop in your jeans to keep you there against him. Even up close, he is so unbearably handsome, nose still beet red from the cold, lips cracked and face left unshaven. “So,” he whispers, raising his free hand to cup your face, “are you ready to finally stop running from me?” You offer a tiny nod, nuzzling into his hand before, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” Jaebeom doesn’t waste any time bothering to answer, tipping your chin up to meet his lips. Jaebeom’s kiss is soft, just a drawn-out peck but it’s enough to drop kick your sanity right out the door. “Tastes like buffalo chicken,” he whispers with a smile, just barely pulling back. Just as soon as he has stopped, you are fisting your hands into his jacket and tugging him back, greedily opening his mouth with yours and whimpering against him once he has caught the hint and slackened his jaw to deepen the kiss. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but kissing Jaebeom leaves you breathless, limbs weak kind of drunk on his taste and leaving you desperate for more.

“Jaebeom,” you sigh dreamily, arching into him when he drags a hand down your spine. “Fuck,” he whispers, pushing you further against the cabinets and mindlessly gyrating his hips with yours. Hands brushing past your ass to grip the back of your thighs, he orders, “Jump.” You do as he says, allowing him to help you onto the counter and you distantly pray someone doesn’t walk in on you, especially Youngjae. He’ll murder you if you knock something down.

“Can’t believe you’ve kept me waiting all this time when you kiss like that,” Jaebeom mutters, kissing along the length of your neck and groaning against your skin when your hands brush along the waistband of his pants. “Never met someone who wears an ugly sweater and still manages to be the hottest one in the room.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slips beneath your sweater, fingers brushing just over your bra and leaving fire in their wake. “Impossible,” you huff, wrapping your legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, his involuntary thrusts brushing deliciously against you, “when I say the same thing about you.” Jaebeom chuckles, returning to your mouth and cradling your jaw to meet him. You could do this forever, you think, nails digging into his arms when his hand cards through your hair and he kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“God, I can’t do this when I’m not sober,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and you can’t help but smile at the soft gesture. “Me too,” you admit, reaching to play with the soft hair at the back of his neck, “we can do this whenever now, though.” Jaebeom chuckles, leaning back to admire you before placing a much softer kiss on your lips. “Does that mean you’ll go out on a date with me?”

“Well, yes, of course,” you grin, sliding off the counter and cupping his face, “I meant what I said. I can’t bear the thought of not giving us a chance.”

“It’s about damn time,” Jaebeom teases, earning a light punch to his arm. “Hey! I’ve been stressed out of my mind. I was blind when it came to seeing you flirt with me.”

“I’m kidding, ___,” he chuckles, “I’m glad it took us until now. It’s a good way to start off the year, knowing I’ll meet my New Year’s Resolution and be able to bone you sooner than later.”

Your eyes widen at his words, warmth instantly blooming its way up your neck when you glance to the growing tent in his slacks and he lets out a triumphant laugh. In the midst of your embarrassed flush, the back-door slides open and none other than Jinyoung starts shouting, “Where the fuck have y’all been? Oh— shit! What happened?”

Then, not a heartbeat later, “Kiss! KIIIISSSSSSS!”

“KISS!” Maggie screams, bouncing behind Jinyoung and it isn’t until you look up do you understand. Of fucking course— the stupid mistletoe.

“Shall we, m’lady?” Jaebeom asks, voice laced with amusement. You quirk a brow at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer.

“We shall.”

·

·

·

Not even three hours into the new decade, Jaebeom has already met his New Year’s Resolution.

[artificialqueens]

Blue Neighborhood Series: TOO GOOD (Jackie-centric) - Mac

AN: All my love and thanks to Alex for betaing. She’s a star and I adore her. All my love to you all for continuing to read this story. I appreciate you so much more than you know.

Summary: Jan and Jackie talk about their respective futures as well as the events of the past few months and try to figure out what comes next.

Jackie breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to slow her racing heart. The cups of coffee in her hand were still so ridiculously hot that they burned a ring into the skin of her palm, but the uncomfortable feeling and the biting chill of the night air kept her mind clear.

For that she was grateful.

Not a second after she had knocked, the familiar red oak door swung open, revealing a frazzled looking Jan. She looked beautiful despite her evident stress, and Jackie would have told her as much if she were braver.

“Good evening, Miss Homecoming Royalty,” Jackie grinned, chipper as ever, even with it being nearly midnight.

Jan huffed and rolled her eyes, clearly not in the mood for teasing, but as her gaze fell onto the matching cups in Jackie’s hands, her eyes lit up and she made a grab for the coffee.

Jackie’s arm darted away from Jan’s eager grasp and she shook her head mockingly. “Uh un, what do you say?” she prompted, barely able to suppress a grin.

Jan crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. If Jackie were a stronger woman she wouldn’t have found it as adorable as it was.

The older girl sighed. “This is the part where you say ‘thank you, Jackie, you’re the light of my life and I couldn’t do any of this without you.’”

Jan rolled her eyes once more. “I swear to god,” she cursed under her breath.

“Close enough,” Jackie chuckled, finally offering the drink to Jan with an outstretched hand.

Jan grabbed it swiftly like she was prepared for Jackie to whisk it away again. The older girl just laughed at her as the two made their way up the stairs to Jan’s room. Pristine and purple as always, Jackie swore the place was cleaner than a hospital with how often Jan vacuumed, the plush shag carpet sending sparks of familiarity and comfort up Jackie’s legs and settling in her spine.

The two girls threw themselves on the bed and began the arduous process of pulling out their various materials.

College applications were due in a week and with all the shit that had been going on in both their lives, they had conveniently put off writing their essays, or in Jan’s case, writing her essays and recording her audition tapes. Jan, having realized this, had called Jackie immediately and demanded that they get together and finish everything right the fuck now. Jackie, having been half asleep and not in her right mind, agreed, because it was Jan, and she never could say no to Jan.

Now, the girls exhaled, throwing their stacks of papers around the room and staring blankly at their computer screens, racking their brains for that perfect string of words that would determine the course of their lives.

After about thirty minutes of this mindless staring, Jan sighed and threw herself back onto her plush comforter, trying and failing not to find it comfortable.

“What the hell do they mean where do I want to be in ten years?” She groaned. “Employed. What the hell else?”

Jackie raised a singular brow, judgment clear in her words.“Is that really UCLA’s essay topic? Yikes.”

Jan sat up and fixed her with a squint. “Well, what was Smith’s?”

“Most influential person in your life.”

“That’s sooooooo basic,” Jan drawled, rolling her eyes pointedly.

Jackie leaned over the mountain of pillows and made to poke at Jan playfully. The younger girl gave a dramatic shriek and began burying herself under the mass of pillows in an effort to escape. Jackie let her go after a moment, finding Jan far too cute and far too close.

The proximity, even after all these years, never failed to make her head spin.

“At least they didn’t ask a minimum wage job interview question,” she quickly recovered.

Jan scoffed and batted Jackie’s hands away. “I think you’re just saying that cause you don’t want me going so far away.”

Jackie couldn’t hide the way her heart sank in her chest at the comment, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try to conceal it with an eye roll. “Whatever. Like you won’t get into whatever school you apply to.”

Jan groaned again, turning her face against a pillow so she could meet Jackie’s eyes. “Juilliard has an 8% acceptance rate.”

“And NYU?”

“20%”

Jackie shrugged. “And what about it? You’re more talented than every one of those other bitches and you know it.”

Jan sighed, letting her eyes fall down to the bed beneath them, fingers tracing aimless patterns into the worn blanket.“I dunno, Jacks. Lately I’ve been wondering if I even wanna do music.”

“Are you serious?” Jackie asked incredulously.

The thought that Jan, the girl with musical notes for blood cells, wasn’t sure about her future was… alarming to say the least.

If anybody should be comfortable picking a path in life, she should.

Student body president, Homecoming Royalty, captain of the cheer team, soccer star, salutatorian. She was the perfect addition to any collegiate program.

Although Jackie supposed it made sense. Jan had been so driven, had worked so hard for so long that she had barely had time to breathe let alone think for herself. Always so concerned with what came next.

Freedom must seem like the scariest thing imaginable.

“Is this because of what happened at your audition last month?” Jackie pressed, still unable to fully wrap her mind around what she was hearing.

“No? Well, yes.” She sighed once more. “I dunno. I just don’t know if that’s my… thing. You know? Like for the rest of my life…” Jan trailed off.

Jackie nodded. She did know.

Just because she was happy with her chosen track didn’t mean she was sure of it.

But she had been in a similar position not too long ago when she had come out to her less than enthusiastic parents. Jackie had defined herself by her family and the rules of her culture since the day she could comprehend them.

It was scary, feeling so untethered.

The only reason she had gotten through it was the knowledge that she would get to escape one day. That college would come and she could be free from all the expectations and the pressure and the rules.

But Jan wasn’t like that. She craved rules and discipline and order. So much so that it had overshadowed everything else. Order had always come first. Before passion, before reason, before joy.

“Well you know,” Jackie paused, “you don’t have to decide right now.”

Jan looked up at her, eyes wide in confusion.“Applications are due next week I have to-”

Jackie cut her off with a shake of her head. “Who says you even have to go to college?”

The younger girl stared at her for a moment, mouth hanging open in shock, like she couldn’t believe that Jackie was actually encouraging what she was encouraging. “My parents-”

“Oh fuck off,” Jackie scoffed. “You don’t actually care what they think.”

Jan couldn’t meet her eyes anymore, shoulders tense as she attempted to process. Her fingers were flexing unconsciously against the sheets as her mind spun, falling over itself at the idea that she had the option to take her time.

That she didn’t have to keep running anymore. That she could finally slow down.

Jackie saw it all play out behind her eyes, and she noticed the moment that Jan shut down, not allowing herself to bask in the possibility.

She went to protest again. “Jacks-”

“You don’t have to pick your career right now,” Jackie said firmly, in that tone that always made Jan shut up and actually listen to her. She wasn’t sure why she was pushing so hard, but she couldn’t stop herself, the unrelenting need to assure Jan that she was fine and she had time making her mouth move before her brain could stop it. “You’re 18. You’ve got so much time. You can take a year off, or two years off, or never fucking go to college if you don’t want to.”

Jan still wouldn’t look at her, body still tense, mind still scattered; Jackie gently took hold one of Jan’s hands in her own, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

“You have time to figure it all out. And you will.” Jackie smiled lightly to herself. “I know you will.”

Because it’s you. She wanted to say. Because it’s you and you’re so incredible. And nothing you ever do in your whole life can be anything less than incredible.

Jackie looked up to find Jan staring at her with soft eyes, adoration so clearly etched in the lines on her face.

“What are you staring at?” Jackie coughed awkwardly, a hand coming up to worry the skin on the back of her neck, flush spreading subconsciously.

“Nothing.” Jan smiled, shaking her head and squeezing Jackie’s hand in hers. “It’s just… you’re gonna be a great lawyer.”

…

Jackie’s head hung off the side of Jan’s bed several hours later as the student body president looked through her color-coded planner, mind unfocused. Thoughts of sleep wandered through Jackie’s exhausted brain, but she forced her eyes open, meeting Jan’s even as she was upside down.

“Whatcha thinking bout?” Jackie asked her, with a lopsided grin.

“That you look silly like that,” Jan teased.

“Funny, you look normal.”

Jan’s eyes widened comically and her mouth hung open in a show of mock offense before she proceeded to poke Jackie none too lightly in the side over and over and over again. This lead to the both of them playfully hitting at each other like children, eventually causing Jackie to fall gracelessly off the bed and onto the floor, the two old friends proceeding to collapse into a fit of giggles and eventually calling a truce as they caught their breaths.

Their laughter subsided after an immeasurable amount of time and a comfortable silence fell between the two.

But then, Jan’s peaceful smile faltered.

“Are you thinking about her?”

Jackie felt her shoulders tense, the sudden change of tone making goosebumps rise on her skin. “Gotta be more specific than that,” she tried and failed to joke.

“Gigi,” Jan muttered, staring intently at Jackie, eyes brimming with… something that Jackie didn’t entirely recognize.

“Why?”

Jan shrugged. “I dunno. You were gonna go with her to Homecoming and then all of a sudden you weren’t.”

Jackie looked at Jan hard for a moment, unsure of where this line of questioning was coming from, and not sure she wanted to find out where it was going, as Jan’s stare was blank and unassuming - a dramatic deviation from her usual bubbly self.

Jackie shook her head as if to communicate that it wasn’t a big deal. “She wanted to go with someone else. It wasn’t a set in stone kinda thing. We were only going as friends.”

You knew that. Jackie wanted to say.

Because Jan had known that. Had known both of them for her whole life and not once had she… made this connection before.

The student body president nodded slowly, almost as if weighing Jackie’s answer. “So you don’t…” Jan paused, choosing her next words carefully, “have… feelings for her?”

Jackie felt something unpleasant settle in her stomach. Something that felt quite a bit like anger.

They didn’t talk about this.

Not about boys, or girls, or attraction in general. Jan always had Bryce and Jackie always kept her mouth shut.

“Why?” Jackie tried to keep her voice level, and not let the selfish, angry part of herself lash out.

“I’m just curious.” Jan shrugged, detached tone still making Jackie uneasy. “You never tell me about girls you like, and you and Gigi were all over each other at Widow’s birthday.”

Suddenly, the remaining pieces fell into place.

“So were you and Jaida,” Jackie shot back before she could think better of it.

Jan immediately shrunk in on herself, as if Jackie’s words had been physical blows. “That was different.”

Jackie laughed bitterly, the pooing disgust in her gut brimming to the surface. She raised one eyebrow pointedly, making unyielding eye contact with Jan. “Was it?”

Suddenly Jan was much closer than Jackie remembered her being, and she must have sat up or something because she could feel Jan’s labored breathing against her face now.

And just as suddenly as she noticed it, Jan was leaning across the small space between them to press her lips firmly, decidedly against Jackie’s.

Jackie’s entire body froze, suspended a freefall for several seconds.

The change from anger to elation was so sudden, so consuming, that her whole body felt aflame.

After a beat, her brain slowly kicked back online and she began to move her mouth in time with Jan’s bruising kisses.

Jan tasted like coffee and sunshine and a familiarity that made Jackie’s spine tingle. And Jackie didn’t know how she had gone so long without tasting her.

The kiss turned slow, lazy almost, as the two old friends lingered in each other’s space long after they had come up for air.

But when the student body president pulled away, there was something decidedly less joyful in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jan started to apologize.

Jackie smiled lightly. “It’s okay.”

Jan kept shaking her head back and forth quickly, anxiety creeping into her words.“No, I mean… I shouldn’t have done that. I… I wanted to see if… I thought maybe-”

Jackie reached out with a gentle hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of Jan’s face, but the younger flinched back like the contact burned, and the sick feeling in Jackie’s stomach was back, threatening to suffocate her.

“Take your time, it’s okay,” A rejected Jackie nearly whispered.

Jan just kept shaking her head, letting out a puff of air through her nose. “It’s really not.”

Jackie looked at her, really looked at her for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It finally came in the form of Jan’s teary eyes meeting Jackie’s.

I’m sorry. They said without words.

And suddenly it hit her what exactly Jan was apologizing for.

“You… you don’t like me like that. Do you?” Jackie said slowly, allowing each of the words to drift from the back of her tongue and fall off her lips coldly.

Jan met her eyes again, lip held tightly between her two perfect rows of teeth, and shook her head.

Jackie nodded. “It’s Jaida, isn’t it?” she couldn’t keep the disgust out of her mouth.

Jan hesitated, freezing up for a beat before giving in and nodding minutely.

The silence was back, heavy now in the wake of Jan’s admissions.

And then suddenly, all the years of repressed feelings came bubbling to the surface, and Jackie was helpless to stop the anger from winning out this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me? What, you didn’t think I’d understand? Didn’t think I could handle it?” She spat.

Jan shook her head, helpless. “I didn’t know how to-”

“You didn’t even fucking come out to me! I didn’t know you liked girls, I had to use fucking context clues!”

“I didn’t know how to tell you it was someone else.” Jan rushed out. “I always thought, if it were going to be anyone, I thought it’d be you…” she shook her head sadly. “But it’s not and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to tell myself.”

“So what, you just fucking kissed me for what?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, you fucking failed”

Jackie, vision blurry in a mix of rage and hurt, started grabbing her school materials and shoving them blindly into her bag.

Jan tried to stop her. “Jacks-”

“Don’t.” The ice in Jackie’s voice shut Jan up immediately, the younger girl sinking back into her position on the bedroom floor.

Jackie made her way to the door, silently fuming to herself. She only stopped when she heard Jan’s meek voice from behind her.

“I’m sorry. I wanted it to be you.”

Jackie laughed bitterly, facing the door to hide the tears threatening to spill over. “You can’t help who you like, Jan.”

…

Jan’s words echoed in Jackie’s head as she fled the house.

“I wanted it to be you.”

Me too. Jackie thought. Me fucking too.

She wanted to be angry. So much so that she convinced herself she was. Cursing Jan’s name under her breath, wishing they’d never met in the first place.

But as soon as the chill of the October air hit her skin, she felt the tears fall. She was helpless to stop them, so she didn’t try to.

As she wandered around the familiar houses of their neighborhood, all dark save for the one at the start of the road, she let the past years of fear and regret and sadness fall from her eyes.

She sat under the flickering streetlamp at the start of their street, ignoring the way the harsh sidewalk rubbed rough against her clothes.

“I wanted it to be you.”

“I wanted it to be you.”

“I wanted it to be you.”

The words circling around and around and around in her head like a merry go round.

It would be so much simpler. So much cleaner and nicer and easier if Jan could just love her back. Could force herself to settle for someone as plain and boring and utterly inferior as Jackie.

It would be easier. And it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Because even if she did, even if Jan could love her, Jackie would always know that she wasn’t good enough. And it would hurt, but it would be fine because at least she could be mostly happy. And it would only hurt in that quiet, burning kind of way that you only ever felt if you moved a certain way.

Yes, it would be easier that way.

But Jackie couldn’t ask her to do that.

But maybe…

Just maybe…

She could ask someone else.

Before Jackie could think it through, she was across the street knocking loudly on the only other house with a light in the window.

She waited impatiently, leg bouncing up and down, rapping once again on the door until it swung open revealing a mostly tired, slightly surprised Gigi.

Jackie didn’t think, she just pulled Gigi in by her hips and angled her head to capture her lips in a kiss that felt like a lie.

Gigi let out a surprised yelp a first, then froze as Jackie’s lips moved passionately against her own. But Jackie didn’t let up, only doubling down on her efforts, channeling everything she couldn’t say to Jan into Gigi’s mouth.

Ultimately, the younger girl melted, kissing back cautiously if not a bit demurely.

When Jackie finally relented, letting Gigi up for lungfuls of air, she couldn’t help the satisfied feeling pooling in her gut.

Gigi stared at her, wide eyes showing a mixture of shock and awe and a tiny bit of desire.

“Y-You don’t want me,” she finally managed to say.

It was only then that Jackie noticed her red eyes.

She had been crying too.

What a pair they made.

“I’m so sick of people telling me what I want.” Jackie whispered. “I want you. I want to be with you.”

Gigi looked at her hard, gnawing at her bottom lip.

After a beat, she nodded.

Gigi still looked nervous, like Jackie was going to take it all back and change her mind, but Jackie was too high off of the intoxicating mix of desire and anger and pain.

She pulled Gigi into another bruising kiss and pretended she tasted like coffee.

[macklives]

hey so this is gonna be a long-ish one. ive decided its been far too long since i did a session, and we did so many i can often forget what happened. i started in july and im pretty sure its been more than half a year now since this whole blog happened. and in that time, we’ve gone through 88 sessions and i want to know if i remember the relevant plot points and what we got up to in the last few sessions. a refresh/reminder if you would.

so i hereby commence my own little recap of act 5 because yeah no, its too much to do a recap of everything and i have andrew for that after every few acts. but i wanna refresh my mind on act 5 for now. so here we go.

1. alternia.. fucked up place. but its a place the trolls live on so what are we gonna do about it? overthrow the government? seems about right, lets do that with the next troll that gets introduced and if its not kanaya idk what andrew is doing by not having introduced the best troll yet. why the long wait? it was the second introduced? i honestly expected it to go in order when i first read act 5, because first we had karkat talk to jade which was the first new piece dialogue in the comic besides the main kids, but then we had kanaya with rose, which was followed by tavros, then terezi (iirc). so id assume we were following that order but nope karkat got fully introduced, then this random fucking juggalo called gamzee made its way into the comic. imagine my surprise.

2. theres been terminology throughout act 5, that i do not fucking know and will not remember and probably never will. like tf is a perigee again? i made a doc somewhere ill probably find it.

3. karkat’s introduction... short but very sweet. and by sweet i mean we got to know the depths of the angry edge lord. and by depths i mean karkat got angry at gamzee for typing in a way that he didnt like so he yapped like a chihuahua. nah, but seriously, i do like karkat tho, hes growing on me but only bc hes a bitch baby and his whole personality makes me want to mock him so thats the reason im not that annoyed and think hes funny, and the most harmless troll. even more so than tavros. and thats saying something. 7.5/10 bc im generous.

4. then gamzee... the high juggalo troll who has the worst typing quirk imo, i cannot for the life of me read it. but hes chill, i actually really like gamzee. hes funny and the least problematic as of right now. 8.5/10.

5. terezi’s introduction next i think. she likes playing as a lawyer with her stuffed dragons, ie by roleplay, shes blind, can see through licking, and she likes eating chalk, maybe its even nutritious. shes good. 9/10. 

6. uhh in the process of these intros, there are teams being made? karkat joins gamzee and terezi in, i THINK, the red team?? bc terezi likes red?? could be wrong, i dont remember the teams except that its red/blue to represent sollux’s duality in those colors. terezi then tries recruiting AC but AC is like lol sorry i have to ask this friend of mine who has authority over me for some goddamn reason and terezi goes yuck tf i hate that guy................... yeah thats all we have on the teams. pretty sure sollux had smth to do with karkat about the making of the leaders, and they did the “i hate me” and the “no i hate me more than u hate u” or whatever the fuck that was. they got embarrassed afterwards and deleted their messages. im pretty sure they have no messages because everything ends up being mutually deleted so their logs are actually empty. ngl, kinda enjoyed their convos, made me appreciate their characters. i hope we get more because its good content. i also dont know what order this whole thing is in, who contacted who first? couldnt tell you. ill remember later on. and since im basing this off from memory alone, gotta deal with what i remember. uhhhh so yeah. we havent met all characters yet so the teams have not been officially decided but we got the bases, which is that.

7. god i found it, and the only thing im looking at right now is the terminology list i made and what the fuck?? what the fuck?? you miss a few weeks and suddenly the word nubslurping comes up and you forget what the fuck youre reading.

8. im PRETTY SURE aradia is seen after that whole team fiasco?? or its sollux... maybe. wait. its sollux, right. i just knew someone gets introduced mid way through is all. actually, someone gets introduced after every 20 pages. i have no idea. but ik aradia and sollux go hand in hand.

9. oh shit. OH SHIT! RIGHT! I REMEMBER! so this occurs in the latest session i did, and not the beginning of act 5, but AG and aradia team up, right?? and sollux fucking gets manipulated by them and ??? idk??? they make him find the game, reprogram it and then make him believe its going to end the world (which in hindsight is true, but anyways) so he refuses to play it which was AG’s plan all along so she steps up and becomes leader in his place. but aradia says sollux will still play the game no matter what, but she never went through with the plan for AG but it was apart of a prophecy? that sollux wouldnt be the leader at all? that he’d still play? but it had to go according to plan so it could succeed??? we just dont know why yet. anyways, point being, she still cares for sollux since she did it for him rather than for AG. and thats what i recall. god tf i forgot about that whole drama until writing down “sollux and aradia go hand in hand” which gave me violent flashbacks to the memory.

10. oh and id give aradia 9/10 and sollux 7/10. i do like sollux but if i put him higher than karkat, id get crucified. so im keeping them around the same.

11. man i really like sollux and aradia tho, i may have put him at 7, but i really like their dynamic and i really hope they make up and aradia explains herself about AG. because from one side it looks shitty. and while sollux is rude and never makes up his mind, he apologized to aradia after going off, and that was the only time ive seen him be sincere, so im pretty sure he cares for her to some extent. and i think its somewhat mutual? considering the whole “did it for him” thing. man, i see potential because i actually like both their characters. theyre well written. may not have the best personalities, but i appreciate well written characters and homestuck has the best ones ive seen in a while.

12. oh shit, hell yeah, the more i write, the more im connecting the dots and remembering. however, the more i write, the more i want to just make an analogy post but thats not for now. jesus christ its not all about analogies, mack, this is a recap. but.. how does andrew do it? to not go off track??? hard. telling ya.

13. anyways, didnt we break the fourth wall at some point and have the demon gods or whatever the fuck speak to us in third person for the first time in the comic, after having only gone into second person narrative, right after we were introduced to sollux and his “virus”? the uh, the phrase “the demon was already here” was said, or something along those lines. first line in homestuck to give me the creeps ngl and i appreciate it bc it gives me motivation to know what the fuck its about. its cool bc you have no idea where its going and it sure doesnt have anything to do with the current plot, since the trolls’ session/game doesnt have fucking demons so im curious as to what the fuck that was about. and if i really have to make a theory, i feel it has something to do with aradia’s voices in her head which also connect to the gods rose heard when she started disregarding rules and told dave to look at derse without listening to music bc it was as if he was purposely blocking away their calls. like holy shit, that gave me the shivers. while i do want to know more about wtf happens after act 4, trolls are taking priority right now. just like we did with the intermission. no discussing the kids unless necessary. treat this as its own separate comic. and THEN we can connect.

14. ANYWAYS, tavros’ intro???? that comes afterwards?? with the fiduspawn that made me gag a little on the inside? yep. remember that. fuck that lol. -1/10 but tavros himself is MAYBE a 6/10? i wish we explored his character more in his intro bc right now he just looks like a character made only to be a victim rather than have any depth and i feel thats robbing someone of their full potential. give me more personality andrew, rather than a quivering boy who falls prey to bitches. im expecting more throughout the comic honestly and i hope he gets growth so hes not looked as a “victim” but rather his own character. he is still sweet, and i like him because i want to protect him, but id rather have more info, you know what i mean?

15. oh hell. kanaya had a chainsaw at some point. that made me happy. and didnt she cut off tavros’ legs?? and he got robot ones? and some creepy dude was looking and we called him saggy tits bc hes sagittarius? right? neat. that did happen. pretty sure saggy tits is ACs friend that tells her what to do. the more u know. OH and they all have colored blood similar to their text colors lol. that i remember... so tavros has brown, terezi has blueish green, um. karkat has grey the loser. and apparently it forms a rainbow which is nice. rainbow is good.

16. i dont remember anything else actually

17. wait no i do. AG appeared. shes a petty bully. idk what to say about her. we didnt get that much, except that she hates tavros but is okay with aradia. she also looks like a bottle opener. actually, i think she teamed with aradia to gain leadership rather than to “be friends”. and while that is similar to how karkat did it, meaning the gain, the motivation and how they earned it is entirely different. kinda seeing a trend tho. the leaders of the red/blue teams are both characters who wanted the role, but never had it to begin with. only to win their way into the position. but rather than ask non-stop like karkat did, AG manipulated others so she could be successful. not too sure if she also used aradia for that, or is actually motivated to become friends since they were “past enemies” and she needed a rebound. pretty sure its somewhat both. while AG did mostly use aradia to speak with sollux, what she doesnt know is that aradia is a bad bitch who never even thought about AG and only followed through with the plan bc she had a plan of her own. i guess we’ll look into that later. i lowkey want to know their history.

18. OH AC!!! she appeared for a second as well. love her. shes amazing. 9.5/10. and you may ask yourself, why am i saying “i love this character” but none of them are 10/10?? weellllll its because, and i cant stress this enough, 10/10 belongs to kanaya, i dont make the rules. im waiting for her introduction, shes my favorite and its obvious. sorry.

19. oh huh seems i forgot about the term “lusus”. which.. is.. their parents but not really, its these fucking weird ass creatures that the trolls fought in a cave or something as a child. i dont fucking know. terezi hatched hers and it died? gamzee’s also died but his goat sea dad was never really there to begin with so while it is sad, its more sad that gamzee never saw him? um.. karkat killed his own by exploding his computer bc sollux said dont run the virus and karkat said u cant tell me what to do and did it anyways. so thats on him. but apparently theyre supposed to die, to become prototyped during the game, right? yeah. i remember now.

20. thats.. about it? idk anything else, nothing is coming back to me apart from the shit above. huh.... im surprised how quickly things do come back to you the moment you rant about the plot tho.... handy trick.

cool. neat. fun. this took me too long. but im glad i remember a little bit.

[spaceorphan18]

Marvel Movie Night: Daredevil

...

...

Okay.  

This is a terrible film.  I mean, I did know that going in - but I now give the two Blade films some credit for at least being entertaining.  This film isn’t really entertaining.  It’s what happens when you smush Batman 89 with Batman returns and take out all Tim Burton quirkiness.  No, really, the plot is seriously like a blend of those two films.  Matt Murdoch (Daredevil) watches his father die to the hands of villains, grows up, becomes a lawyer to deal out justice the /right/ way.  Meets a girl (who would be a vigilante as well if the film had any time to develop that) who dies (though, who knows, she might be back...) and stares off into the night on the top of a NYC Skyscraper.  Oh geez... 

I watched the Director’s Cut of the film, hoping that I was getting the better version of the film, because a lot of sources said it’s the better version.  I can’t imagine what the theatrical cut was like, because this version takes itself way, way too seriously.  I get that they were trying to go for the Frank Miller feel (Frank Miller being a comic book creator known for his darker superhero runs, and Miller’s Daredevil run was one of the most famous).  So, I get that.  But film is almost trying too hard.  

The director, Mark Steven Johnson, only had one film under his belt before doing this one -- Simon Birch.  I guess Johnson has gone on to make better films, but since he’s a comedy writer, it seems weird to let him handle this film.  He also wrote the screenplay -- which Kevin Feigi apparently approved.  There had to be something going on with development, because not only is the script full of bad dialogue, but nearly every aspect of this film is just poorly constructed.  

The film wants to be edgy, but comes off as stiff and ridiculous at times.  It’s still a product of the early superhero films, taking a nod from the recent X-Men film’s decision to go darker, and made everything so dramatic it came off as melodrama.  The acting is so stiff that I can’t take most of the characters seriously.  The plot is so tired, it literally feels like its ripping off a Batman film.  The music is irritating.  The few attempts at special effects weak.  

So.  Daredevil is one of the few (main) Marvel characters whom I don’t really know much about.  I’ve never picked up one of the comics.  I vaguely know is backstory.  I can’t judge this film by how well it does with the comics material.  But, in this case, I can’t even get to that level of discussion because this film kinda fails before we even can get to those kind of comparisons.  

At the same time, I think the at points they relied too heavily on knowledge of the comics.  Why is Matt Murdoch hanging around a church all the time -- oh cause he has issues with being Catholic.  Never brought up once in the film, which makes the church thing super weird.  Why is Elektra killed in such an abrupt and unsatisfying death? Oh because it happened that way in the comics.  I feel like I’ve probably missed a lot of reasons why things were happening because they were in the comics.  I really don’t think you should have to read the comics for these things to make sense.  

Alright so... Ben Affleck as Daredevil.  Meh.  Daredevil, a blind superhero who also is a great lawyer, is an interesting character - and I’m now super interested in Netflix’s Daredevil series.  I won’t blame Affleck entirely for Daredevil himself being such a bad main character.  The tonal shifts in the script don’t help.  But Murdoch has two modes - intensely moody and brooding, and being a dick.  There’s nothing likable about the guy.  Nothing intriguing about the guy.  He’s not even that mysterious.  He’s just there.  And it seems like Affleck isn’t sure what to do with any of it.  One point he’s throwing bad guys over the railing of a subway where they get chopped in half.  The other minute he’s claiming he’s not the bad guy as a child cries as he’s beating up a bad guy.  This film doesn’t know what it wants to do with its main character. 

Jennifer Garner is fine as Elektra, despite the romance part of the film being terribly developed.  While it was before Affleck and Garner got together - they seem to genuinely like each other, and it’s the one relationship of this film that seems to have plausibility, again, despite being such a poorly developed plot. 

Michael Clarke Duncan is the film’s main villain Fisk.  Apparently, his performance was called over-the-top.  I think he’s fine for a villain in a superhero film, and one of the few people in the film who seems like they’re enjoying being in it.  The other villain is Colin Farrel’s Bullseye.  He’s supposed to be Irish.  Seems like Farrel kinda remembers that some times, lol.  Anyway, he’s this film’s Darth Maul, only there to kill people in fancy ways, and be someone for Daredevil (and Elektra) to fight against.  

Other Thoughts: 

The soundtrack and the sound editing is irritating.  It’s trying to be cool and edgy with its hard rock, heavy metal, and rap soundtrack, but it just seems like overkill.  The few slower songs seem so on the nose its distracting.  And the score isn’t great or memorable.  Plus, there’s an annoying high-pitched wail whenever some of the special effects are being used.  (Huh - apparently this soundtrack won some awards.  Weird, okay) 

Jon Favreau is in the film!! He’s kind of playing a Happy Hogan-like sidekick.  And he’s easily the best part of the film.  He’s the only one in the film who feels like he’s natural in his part, and he’s a sheer joy to watch while everything else is a bit tedious.  His back and forth with Ben Affleck isn’t that great though, tbh.  Hope he finds a scene partner he can have better chemistry with...  

Grey’s Anatomy’s Ellen Pompeo is in this for two scenes.  She doesn’t do much of anything, it was just weird to see her in there. 

Coolio has a cameo! Playing an framed guy Matt Murdoch has to defend.  He’s actually pretty entertaining in the small amount we get him. 

Like all superhero movies, there are a lot of nods to the comics.  This one over does the schitck of naming half their characters after comics creators.  Enough so that it felt like it stuck out like a sore thumb every time they mentioned another name.  They even named Kevin Smith’s character Jack Kirby.  **headdesk** 

Oh yeah, Kevin Smith is randomly here as well for a scene.  

Final Thoughts: Please do yourself a favor and don’t bother with this film.  Not gonna lie, I’d rather watch The Incredible Hulk again before ever watching this tedious mess again. 

Next Up: X2, thank god for something watchable. 

[sol1056]

git along little nonnies

Got a whole bunch of you on related themes, so I’m just gonna do this all at once: a bunch of questions about DW, spinoffs, merchandise, business, management, support (and protest) and whatnot. In no particular order.

Ok there are petitions and peaceful boycotts directed at DW but problem is they aren’t addressing the EPs and things they, not DW, did so how are we to sign them, how to handle this when this could at best confuse the situation and not give any results and at worst, make matters even worse about what we want regarding DW addressing things? 

Here’s what companies care about: money. Everything else is gravy.

If you want a corporation to pay attention to your complaints, then you need to figure out their sources of income, and find a way to threaten that. If the social reprobation is high enough, damage to the brand can translate into lost sales, but the tempest required to make that happen must be much, much larger than anything I’ve seen the fandom manage. 

I’ve been saying this all along: voices are far more powerful than signatures. If twenty thousand people wrote or called in, and said what they liked vs what upset them, that would have a far greater impact. Certainly a lot more than a list of names with no emotion beyond a request that may not even be something DW can, or would, fulfill.  

And don’t even get me started on mailing stuff in. Cute, but hardly actionable.  

Do you know what kind of contracts DW sign, as in, are they obligated to air all seasons, can they choose not to air them, do the companies they work with (netflix, wep) have a say or more say than them? Who gets the last word? Is airing all seasons squarely on DW or more? 

As I’m not a corporate lawyer employed by any of the signatories, I can’t tell you what the contract stipulated. What I can tell you is that a contract of the magnitude of the DW-WEP-Netflix agreement probably had a dissertation worth of riders covering the different types of possible defaults or breaches, and the penalties for each. Additionally, the contract also likely covered what constituted ‘satisfactory delivery’ of the product. 

To take it down to a really simple level: you place an order at a restaurant. You expect to get it, eat it, and pay for it. You don’t expect to be told, “hey, we burnt your steak and we’re out of butter for your sweet potatoes, so have some green beans instead,” and then be told you still owe the full amount, anyway. 

Netflix wouldn’t settle for ordering (and paying for) something never delivered, anymore than you would. Sure, any corporation worth their over-inflated stock options would try --- but that’s the point of contracts, to make sure they can’t. 

Netflix paid, DW delivers, end of story.  

 ...do you think ppl in charge didn't think EPs would tell they made changes and also thought they'd manage to bury it? And then they got in trouble and DW is going thru changes for that reason? -waves at DW goings on and silence.

I got lost in all the pronouns, there. Who’s the first ‘they,’ the EPs or DW execs? Is the second ‘they’ referring to the same as the first? So... I’m not really sure what you’re positing, but if the ‘DW is going through changes’ is implying DW’s got a shakeup and/or is promoting its head-of-TV to president and that’s somehow connected to two newbie EPs screwing up?

I’d say the chances are so infinitesimal as to be nearly in the negative. (I should also note, the press release listed successful shows Cohn oversaw, yet oddly did not include VLD.) DW is not a three-person start up; it has stakeholders and a board and a C-suite to satisfy. Cohn got that promotion ‘cause she’s got a track record going back thirty years, most recently growing DW’s TV division from 8 to 800 in five years. 

Most corporations tend to announce their new CEO or President like someone woke up that morning and went, hey, I’ve got a great idea. Truth is, it’s usually in the works for at least a year, sometimes several years, or more. The only thing that has me side-eyeing the announcement is the silence around who’ll fill Cohn’s previous position. 

But that’s again less to do with a single series, and more to do with what it says about DW as a whole, business-wise. 

What meaningful changes could the new president Margie Cohn make that would be different than the last one? Also I'm sorry if your getting a bunch of Voltron/DW questions lately, you just seem to be the most knowledgeable person on this platform.

I’d be willing to bet I’m far from the most knowledgeable person; I’m just someone not bound by an NDA, and curious enough to do a bit of digging and jaded enough to talk about (most) of what I find. 

A president can have immense impact on a company’s direction; that’s kinda why they exist, to set that high-level strategy. That said, Cohn will be bound by all contracts signed by her predecessor. The TV side (barring someone filling the shoes she left) will probably continue as it was. The theatrical side (which she’s taking over) will be where we’ll probably see any major changes. 

And even those aren’t likely to be on films currently in production. Hell, given theatrical animation can take up to five years, I’m not sure that’d show much change, either. Look instead to changes in investors, new deals, and new properties. 

What do you think DW will do about a sequel if there’s really no bible? Theres tons of plot holes & abandoned storylines. VLD will never feel satisfying, and fans already argued with different interpretations based on conflicting content, without a nice satisfying explanation...

I know this is the first of a three-part ask, but I’m skipping the rest because the only answer possible is to your very first question: the bible doesn’t matter. 

Any new series --- even a continuation --- will construct its own bible. Same as we’d do in fandom: they’ll patch together what they can, fill in blanks as they need, and gloss the rest, or retcon it outright. Even if there were a bible, diligently followed, that doesn’t mean the next series is automatically beholden to it. Some franchises would care (ie Star Wars) while others might let a reboot mess with the details (ie Star Trek). 

For every continuation, there’s gradations in between, since otherwise what’s the interest for creative minds, if you’re obligated to follow someone else’s script exactly? So, no. The absence of a story bible doesn’t preclude the next iteration making its own, as it needs, to whatever extent it requires. 

I was wandering around the hot topic online store, and i noticed a shirt that raised a few flags and questions. it's the 'Voltron Location' shirt. it has all the paladins in different places in a star globe chart thing? with what might possibly be planet designations. plus Lance is the only one not inside his blue colored bubble. Keith is in Red and Shiro in Black again. it's interesting at least.

Nearly all the shirts use the same base images, just changed up. It feels a little like someone handed a designer a half-dozen images with a request for forty-something designs --- and now HT is just throwing them all at the wall to see what sticks (or sells). 

HT’s stuff has been pretty consistent, from what I’ve heard: Shiro is Black, Keith is Red, etc. Considering the t-shirts seem to be selling out regularly (along with various other sidelines), I’d say someone is savvy as to the fact that the segment of fandom spending the most money is also the segment that prefers the S1/S2 lineup. 

If that’s what customers want, it’s smart business for DW to provide.

(Yes, that applies on more than one level.)

There are VLD comic books being released by LionForge Comics, are those considered canon? Do LM and JDS have any involvement? They take place before Season 7and8 but I don't wanna support the original EPs.

Every fandom has its own stand on what counts as canon. Sometimes (especially with adaptations) you’ll find fandoms being explicit as to whether they’re book or movie (ie HP and LotR). I expect the same will eventually shake out in VLD’s fandom, too. 

From everything I’ve heard, Hedrick and Iverson were handed the comics and ran with it. I suppose that would argue for seeing the comics as canon, being they were written by people also writing the main series... but from what I can tell, it’s one-way. The show affected the comics, but nothing in the comics ever affected the series.

That said, your purchases have nothing to do with the original EPs. All you’re doing is telling DW you like the VLD-iteration of Voltron.

What are your thoughts on the final vld poster? I feel like it’s missing the end. Allura is randomly staring back into nothing.

It’s a clever idea to do a poster for each season, but it’s not something I’ve ever paid any attention to, really. If it were drawn by the head writer? That might mean the artist had more insight than, say, a storyboarder or animator. But even then... cool picture, still not-canon. I’m only interested in canon.

Do you think that Voltron was rushed purposely by the EP's. [...] Wouldn't this effect the quality of, well, everything? I feel as if they got frustrated with the show at that point and just wanted out.

Dude. There are times I sit here and just stare into space, bewildered yet again not just at the thought of 39 episodes released in one year --- but doing that with 26 as a last-minute cut-and-paste rearrangement. All I can tell you is that what I’ve seen from animation people and aficionados (and friends) is that three full seasons in one calendar year is just bonkers. 

If DW hadn’t wanted the schedule that packed, the EPs aren’t the ones getting the say. That’s a DW-Netflix thing. I really wonder whether DW used VLD as a guinea pig. TH went a year between S1 and S2, and the numbers slumped badly. Perhaps DW wanted to know if more episodes, more often, would keep fan interest high? DW has experienced execs, but they’re all from broadcast; how you arrange and time things in the brave new world of binge-watching is a completely different beast. 

So, it’s possible it was less of a rush job to get the show out, and more from a desire to see what'd happen to release so much, so close together. 

I still think it’s a bonkers schedule, though.

"Relaunch the whole property" sounds like they won't continue expanding the whole vld universe and they'll make a new itineration. Though if they do a spin-off it'd likely be on the vld universe surrounding the new "Legendary Defenders" from the epilogue. And "especially given the response" do you think after the negative response from s8, wouldn't be better for WEP to not keep working with Dreamworks? Or maybe they need to clean their brand from vld fiasco? What can you say about all of this?

I can say you might try re-reading, because boy is that a radical interpretation of the text. Remember, Jeremy was speaking before S8, and all indication is that he was caught off-guard as much as the fans. Re-read in light of Jeremy (at the time) appearing to expect S8 to be a crowd-pleaser.   

...I'm becoming more confident in my belief that DW has something planned for Voltron. I mean they are still heavily promoting the show, LionForge is still publishing Voltron comics, and merchandise is still being made. These don't seem like the actions of a company trying to get people to forget a show. 

You’re not wrong. Up to the last few days of 2018, DW gave every indication they wanted S8 quietly buried. Nothing they’ve done since has fit that pattern --- including the anomaly of failing to announce their 2019 series. Something is going on, that’s for certain. 

Did DW really just throw the VAs to the wolves [for] three days? and there's still no official stance? One panel was enough. They had [the VAs] take the heat for them? But thankfully fans felt sorry for them? Which could also have been the goal, shut the fans up [with] the VAs of the characters who got the worst treatment and who love their characters ... Yes DW this really makes me trust you /sarcasm/

I don’t think that was the original plan. Let’s pretend DW released its 2019 schedule via press release in the first few days of January, and among those was an announcement of a VLD sequel or spinoff, coming late 2019. 

People wouldn’t be fussing over putting the VAs through three panels. They’d be complaining we didn’t get the biggest room for every panel. The majority of the fandom doesn’t trust the EPs, and is wary of DW --- really, the only ones who retain any goodwill, at this point, are the VAs. So who better than to assure a nervous fandom about the goodness of the second iteration than the VAs whose characters were most shafted by the first iteration?

What breaks this is that immediately after S8 dropped, Josh and Kimberly went silent on twitter. AJ slipped into passive-aggressive snarking; Jeremy fell off the radar and usually he’s pretty interactive with his fans. Bex pretty much wiped  VLD from her stream, possibly including deleting older tweets. Neil tried to engage and made a hash of it, bless his heart. 

Josh and Kimberly are consummate professionals who reliably promote the series after every season drop, but their radio silence continued for almost two weeks. This wasn’t the first season that came saddled with controversy; if there was a time to go quiet, it was after S7. Something else was going on. 

I have strong suspicions backed by research, but if I’m right, I’d be stepping on a major legal landmine. In the interest of not getting blown up, I’ll only say that the VAs appearing for those three panels (and their low-key and mostly diplomatic hedging around VLD’s conclusion) was a good sign that all parties involved are willing to work things out.   

[DW was] quick to handle the Season 7 backlash and have stayed mum on what is arguably a much worse reaction to the 8th and final season.

and

I believe the S8 of voltron we got was not the original ending we were supposed to get and highly edited. My question is why? What was the point of changing the original ending? [The] radio silence from DW and the cast is driving me nuts. I wish DW would make a statement.

DW is in an interesting place. Its TV side is barely five years old, but dominated by execs with long-time broadcast experience, predating vibrant interactivity afforded by platforms like twitter, tumblr, or instagram. DW’s background as a theatrical company also seems to incline it away from any ongoing engagement with the audience. It releases a movie and by the time that hits theaters, DW is onto the next thing. 

It’s a strong contrast with production studios like Zagtoon (Miraculous), who penned an open letter to their fandom about production delays. Or little studios like Wonderstorm (The Dragon Prince) whose deft use of twitter and tumblr sets their brand apart. Or Federator (Castlevania), with their witty marketing campaigns and willingness to engage with fans. Even Disney was willing to be open about its errors with Tiana, and to make clear how it was striving to do better --- so there’s no excuse that only small studios do such outreach.

My guess is that DW's core leadership is from the school of business in which admitting a mistake is tantamount to ritual suicide. Don’t blink first, or maybe the rule is never let them see you sweat, but whatever it is, DW is turning into a textbook case of how silence can damage a brand. 

Companies have multiple avenues to reach customers directly, now. Our modern technologies are a two-way street, and good companies leverage that to create not passive fandoms but active communities. It takes work, careful planning, and some level of transparency --- something old-school execs find highly uncomfortable, to be honest --- but in this day and age, those are crucial building-blocks to achieving any kind of audience loyalty.

DW isn’t going to render itself obsolete (at least not overnight), but it's on a track to end up as the studio whose work audiences only watch when there’s nothing better being offered. Unfortunately for DW, there’s a hell of a lot of other studios out there, and they're all offering something better. 

[porscheczar110]

Another Modern Rayllum AU

Been looking for a Narcos Rayllum AU? Probably not. But my sister in law wrote one anyways. This is a series of comical vingnettes im which Callum comes to terms with the fact that 1) he was born into a Narco family and 2) his best friend/girlfriend is a sicario.

Summary: Sicario- Noun. sicario (plural sicarios) hitman, hired killer (especially when referring to Latin American drug cartels).

A collection of snippets that offer a glimpse into the life of Callum after the mysterious assassin, Rayla, barges into his life. He may not have signed up for it, but he wasn't going to complain.

Read Part 1 here.

1. Of Meeting

“I’ve come to kill you.”

Callum looked up at the woman standing over him in awe. She was framed by the light of an abnormally large full moon, silvery hair tied up and swaying in the wind. He scrambled back from her, confused. His interest was piqued. This had never happened before.

She advanced on him, and he jerked to his feet with a snort of laughter. His fear seemed to dissipate as adrenaline spiked through his veins, giving him a clear head. “Okay, very funny. Who hired you? Was it Soren? How much did he pay you? His jokes are getting worse and worse.” Callum was no stranger to his friend’s wild antics. The blonde lived to torment him, although it was mostly good-natured. This was a bit morbid, even by Soren’s standards.

“I—Soren? Who’s that?” she asked in confusion. “I can’t just give up my employer because you asked . Now, lay down, and take your death like any honorable person would.”

“Oh, you’re a real hoot. I’m sure you’re a great hit at parties. Here’s the deal,” Callum said, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I’m going to go home, and you’re going back to your ‘employer,’ and let him know the job has been done. I’m spooked! Yay for you. I have an exam tomorrow. That’s why I’m walking home so late. I don’t exactly have time for a punk prank right now. We can meet up later, and try this again, okay? See you soon!”

“But I—”

Callum spun on his heel and continued toward his house.

He would think back on the interaction later when his grade wasn’t on the line.

2. Of Kingpin

Callum pushed his textbook and notes away in disgust. His groan echoed around the study room he and Rayla were currently occupying. “Enough, enough! The numbers aren’t making sense anymore. I can’t do this, Ray.”

She laughed, continuing to copy down equations from the PowerPoint in front of her. “Don’t you have a tutor for everything?”

“No,” he denied vehemently. “My father tried to get one for everything, but I refused. I wanted to do this on my own. I’m going to ring the cook up. Did you want anything to snack on? I’m thinking jelly tarts.”

She finally paused her writing and pinned him with a stare. His breath caught at her amethyst orbs. No one should be as lovely as she. It had to be some sort of crime, being so deadly and beautiful. Although, if he called the cops, he was pretty sure they would be in more trouble than her.

“Tutors for days. Personal chefs and butlers and nannies and—”

“Do you have a point?” He felt his cheeks heating. It wasn’t his fault he was born into money. And he wasn’t very conscious about it. His life was as it was, and that was that.

“Cal...”

“Yes, Rayla?”

“Do you even know what it is your dad does?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Something with oil? Or was it pharmaceutical distributions? Maybe both?”

Rayla smacked her forehead and looked as if she wanted to shake him. “Your father is the biggest drug distributor in the continent . And you’re telling me you don’t know?”

“So he does work in pharma?”

“No, Callum,” she sighed heavily, clicking onto the next slide on her laptop. “Not pharma drugs. I’m talking about illegal, recreational drugs. Your dad is a king pin. A drug lord. A narco . Where do you think all your money came from?”

He sputtered, grasping for an answer. “Investments?”

She snorted and gave him a sardonic smile. “Oh, he sure invests alright. Invests in all sorts of things. Like guns and drugs and lawyers and—"

Callum cut her off, not wanting to hear the extensive list of places his father funneled money into. “Don’t you think I would’ve found out by now?”

“Yes. Hence why I’m surprised you didn’t know until I brought it up.” She raised a brow, and damnit if his heart didn’t skip a beat. Did she have to be so magnetic?

Stop it, he chastised himself. Gotta focus.

“If my dad is the head honcho of some big baddie drug operation, why were you sent to kill me ? Shouldn’t you go after him?”

She suddenly stiffened, hand twitching against her laptop arrow keys. Callum scanned her face, looking for a slip in her mask. The slight twitch in her eye gave away her stress.

“You were going to be bait. Your death wasn’t going to be on that sidewalk that night.”

“Oh,” he said weakly, not really understanding what she was implying.

She failed to meet his stare, shifting to fumble with her highlighter.

He glanced down at her backpack, cringing slightly at the barely concealed handgun peeking out from a slightly unzipped pocket.

Oh .

She was talking about extortion.

Torture.

Hostage.

She was, after all, a sicario .

And Callum found he minded that less and less.

3. Of Sicario

“So you’re telling me… You’re a what ?”

“ Sicario . I’m a hired hitman. Or I guess hitwoman? Or maybe hired assassin is easier for your brain to process.”

“Call it whatever you want. It’s not like I’d be able to pronounce the word.” Was that him laughing? It sounded borderline hysterical.

“Repeat after me. Slowly. See .”

“ See .”

“ Car .”

“ Car .”

“ Eeo .”

“ Eeo .”

“ Sicario. ”

“ Seecareeo ?”

“Eh, close enough. Not much we can do about your accent, really,” she teased.

“Okay, okay. So then… You’re a sicario ?” Callum couldn’t help the way his voice cracked at the word. It didn’t help that his Spanish was nonexistent.

Rayla barked out a laugh and shook her head at him. “The first thing I ever said to you was that I was going to kill you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my first thought wasn’t ‘ hitman’ ! I was running on no sleep and stressed out of my mind. What the hell, Ray? You were going to kill me!”

She shrugged and unlocked the car doors, and he hurried to the passenger’s seat. “Multiple times actually. I didn’t decide to keep you alive until Janai tried to kill you, too.”

“ What? That was months after we first met!”

Rayla gave him a wicked smirk. “Yup! You are very good at annoying me. Too good. What else was I supposed to contemplate?”

He shook his head in disbelief. She knew exactly how to get under his skin, too. The only other person that could get him riled up so quickly was Ezran, but Callum attributed that to a sibling kind of thing. “You could’ve contemplated a million other things.”

“Are you… Are you butthurt?” The disbelief in her voice was obvious.

“No,” he snapped, staring out the window.

“I was just doing my job,” she reminded him. There was no mistaking the glee in her voice.

“Oh, yeah! You did a fantastic job seeing as how I am still right here.”

She snorted and patted his shoulder. The contact had him whipping around to watch her profile as she drove. “Just know I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She leaned forward and turned up the volume of her music, mouthing the words along as she sped along the highway.

Now what did that mean?

4. Machetes

Callum kicked a rock away from his path, muttering obscenities into the dark. He’d lost three out of five rounds of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock, and he was not a happy camper. Rayla had a bunch of junk in her car, and he was the lucky one now tasked with shifting through it all for some obscure USB. He glanced down at the pen marking on his hand, unable to help the small smirk at her chicken scratch.

And the drinks , the barely legible words reminded him. He also had to carry a too-heavy pack of drinks back to the party which was too far away for his comfort. He was an artist by trade, not some beefy powerlifter. Normally, he would’ve dragged Soren out with him to do the transporting, but his friend was out of town that weekend, watching some type of sports game.

He grumbled as he unlocked the car, digging around through her junk. He must’ve been outside for at least half an hour before he moved onto the trunk. And with some more extensive searching, he ran into a pair of really rusted machetes.

“Rayla really is strange,” he muttered to himself, slowly sliding them out of the trunk. He couldn’t decide if they were real or not, and he didn’t feel like touching the blade to find out. The handles were like a mix between plastic and wood which was more than enough for him to make a judgement call.

Eh, fake then.

He twirled them around clumsily, and a plan began to form. A devious little smile began to spread across his face, and he closed and locked her car. He snuck back to the house, careful to stay in the shadows. As luck would have it, it seemed like Rayla had stepped out to take a call.

Perfect.

With her back to him, he began rustling the bushes. She whipped around, free hand slipping to her back. He jumped out, hollering and floundering with the blades.

“Holy hell , Callum! Put those down! No, no— Stop waving them around. And take them back to the car! Jesus , dude. Are you trying to kill someone?” She stayed tense for a moment more before sliding back into a regular, if not enraged, stance. She pulled the phone from her ear, presumably muting it to yell some more at him.

Callum couldn’t help but laugh at the horror and redness creeping across Rayla’s face as he finally let his arms fall to his sides. “It’s just a joke, Ray. You’ve gotta relax.”

“You are so lucky I’m the only one out here! What if someone had seen you? I just—” She ran a hand through her hair roughly, and Callum felt like maybe he was the only one that found the situation funny. “Whatever. Go take them back to the car right now. Then go say bye. We’re leaving.” She turned back to her phone and continued speaking sternly at whoever was on the other line.

He couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but he knew it wasn’t good. He stayed rooted to the spot a few more moments, unsure of what to do. It was getting late, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go just yet. It was the most logical thing to do, but he hated that she was dictating his actions. Although she was the one with the car today. And he didn’t really know anyone inside anyways. He’d much rather have another movie night with her, Ezran, and their dog, Zym.

“ Seriously , dude. Go .” She jerked her finger in the direction of her vehicle, and he tried his best not to pout. At her worsening glare, he probably didn’t do a good job at schooling his features.

“Fine, fine ,” he snapped. “But I’m going to pretend to be fighting off a wicked dragon the whole way back,” he called. She opened her mouth, but he hurried off before she could get another word out, slashing at invisible enemies with the machetes and tossing in an occasional theatrical grunt.

“ Callum,” she roared, and he heard rushing footsteps behind him.

Oh, heck no! He thought stubbornly. She wasn’t going to catch him, and she sure wasn’t about to ruin the fun for him. If he wanted to run around and flail with her machetes, he was going to. And she was going to be powerless to stop him. “You can’t catch me!” he hollered back, darting forward into the night. He had gotten too much of a head start, even for a trained assassin. She’d catch him eventually, when he was too tired to do much else but sway around.

For now, he’d enjoy the chase. And something told him she did, too. Regardless if she’d ever admit it or not.

[rosesutherlandwrites]

I Miserabili-Episode 3

I found my entire watch this week plagued by That Other Adaptation. Because this version feels like it’s showing every way they’ve gotten it wrong.

Fantine: in episode two she sunk into misery on the exact same trajectory, within the same length of time and it was heartbreaking but you never had to watch cringing as awful things happened. It was enough to know that they did and how Fantine was effected by it all.

This episode: we start with the Thenardiers, who continue to be generally awful and slimy, and appear to be in some financial trouble themselves, but the day is saved when they get a letter and 300 francs from M.Madeline to settle Fantine’s debts, and asking them to bring Cosette to her. Of course, they instead decide that Fantine has a rich lover now and Cosette is a gold mine, and start working on a letter back. A little bonus here: Baby Gavroche--we don’t see him, but the exchange about how Mme T should go shut him up is there. Also, honourable mention to the guy in this scene who implies that Thenardier is in the direct employ of Satan himself. To his face. Bravo Monsieur, whoever you are.

Next we catch up with Fantine at the hospital--there is bit or Urgently Whispered Exposition between...random hospital lady and Soeur Simplice. (An aside: Simplice is gorgeous. Seriously. I am having terribly sinful thoughts about a nun. Who is older than my grandmother, in real life. Kill me.) Madeline took off to Arras at the crack of dawn, who knows why. Fantine wakes, hears he’s gone and assumes he is off to fetch Cosette, and gets a heartbreaking speech about how happy she will be to see her and what she expects she’ll be like now that Five Years Have passed. GUYS THERES AN ACTUAL TIMELINE and it made sense and was just addressed by a character see DAVIES YOU HACK IT ISN”T THAT HARD. Also this is kind of genius: we haven’t seen Cosette since Fantine left her as a toddler, and now we are going off of Fantine’s hopes for her and when we see what state she is actually in it is going to be HEARTBREAKING. The random lady actually walks out on this scene to go and hold her OWN daughter, this is how bad we feel for Fantine. The doctor comes to look at her, and listens. He says nothing but you can tell things are not good.

Meanwhile: Madelaine’s carriage has blown a wheel. Perhaps he won’t make it after all? Ha, psych! Here is another carriage. He continues on. They could have cut this out. It’s totally book accurate though, and it is well acted. You can see that JVJ keeps hoping that this is A SIGN that God doesn’t want him to expose himself.

He arrives just in time for the Trial. I am not parsing this whole thing. it’s more than half the episode(thought on that below). It’s all well done, and full of unexpected humour, a proper courtroom drama. And one moment where I would have given a great deal for a closeup on Valjean/Madeline for pure comic value, but it was not to be. The same actor who plays Valjean also plays Champmathieu!!! with different hair and bad teeth. This guy is bloody incredible and i love him? Madeline doesn’t stand up and admit who he is until the very end--hoping that they might just let the innocent man off, but no such luck. The entire end of this scene is...brilliant. Just brilliant. This soft spoken man, explaining who he is, and what prison made him into, and how he thought he might just become one of the good people again, but apparently not. All is silence in the stunned room, and he simply walks away...end credits over the sound of a horse running. A CW note for this scene--one lawyer, describing says that Champmathieu is simple...and then decides to push it further, to say that he is mentally challenged. The italian dialogue says he is “an idiot” (or so i believe...my italian is very very VERY limited), but the subtitles translate this as he “is retarded”. I get what they are trying to say, and that they are (i think) trying to use somewhat period-appropriate language (?) but for me at least, that’s not a word i expect to see just dropped in like that anymore. I consider it a slur, and it makes me cringe hard. So I thought I should let you know it’s in there.

Like i said above--this scene was super long and they probably could have cut...a lot of it, had they wanted to. The entire scene with the broken wheel could have gone too. I almost feel like they just needed the events to take up the full hour for TV, and that there was to much they HAD to tell to fit it onto the end of the poor episode or the start of the next. But.

BUT.

They didn’t make up anything to fill the time. No forest peeing. Nothing added to make it more edgy and timely. They just...KEPT STUFF FROM THE BOOK IN. THIS IS HOW YOU MAKE AN ACCURATE ADAPTATION. By giving characters room to breathe and show more of themselves, not by CHANGING THEIR MOST BASIC MOTIVATIONS. By making your timeline as clear as it can possibly be, not by SHIFTING IMPORTANT EVENTS AROUND AND SCREWING WITH HUGE PLOT POINTS. 

BY TELLING THE AMAZING STORY THAT ALREADY EXISTS AND NOT MAKING CRAP UP TO MAKE IT “RELEVANT” AND “SEXY” AND STOKE YOUR OWN EGO. 

ANyhoooooooooo. I came here not to throw major shade at the Beeb, but to review something else and look where I ended up. The long and short of it: I Mis is still knocking it out of the park as far as I’m concerned. And Andrew Davies can suck my metaphorical duck.

[gotatext]

yo, im not gonna lie guys, im super drunk, so this bio is like.... completely ocpy and pasted but;.... pls plot with me..... im so excited to bring this baby here.... i feel it is the perfect place to write her and i hven’t had the chance to in so long ..... love me..... and greta........ please im so excited this is back, last time i played jack..... n willow??? i think....... maybe archie too...... dont even remember...... who i fuckin played..... but i was here...... and queer..... loud..... and proud..... god this dumb bitch needs to sleep.....

GRETA O'DRISCOLL

20. born in marfa, texas. luvs wearing gingham print dresses and cowboy boots. vert into art and pornography, and particularly the combination of the two. wants to do a PHD on gender studies and female autonomy in porn.

( kristine froseth | she / her | cisfemale ) hey, you hear ( young lady, you’re scaring me by ron gallo ) playing over on the ( rv lot ) ? that’s where ( greta o'driscoll ) lives! i heard they moved in from ( marfa, texas ) exactly ( four months ) ago. they’re very ( zealous ) but also pretty ( erratic ). maybe that’s why davie keeps calling them the ( libertine ). starlit is full of people, but this ( 20 ) year old is really going to liven things up around here! ( nora | 23 | she / her | gmt )

personality: easy-going, deceptive, manipulative, self-reliant, profound, amiable, nihilistic, self-serving, laid back, independent unmotivated, self-corrupting, charming, lazy, impulsive, alluring.

likes: art, music, philosophy, DC comics, arcade games, candyfloss, fish and chips on the beach, deep red lipstick, marijuana, dogs, Kate Moss, late-night strolls, chemistry, suspenders, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, cold coffee, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, DJ sets, magnolias.

dislikes: bananas, coffee, mental mathematics, children, misogyny, the imaginary future, literature, Wes Anderson films

muse tag

pinterest

aesthetics: a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, mom jeans, a beaten up pair of adidas, strawberry laces, knee-highs, chapped lips, split knuckles, bruises you try to cover with concealer, stick and poke tattoos, sleep caught in your eyes on a lazy afternoon, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, the red string of a thong peaking out purposely from jeans, a rucksack permanently packed for the move, a streak of red across your lips, roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

cliffsnotes on biography

 - she’s called greta (under witness protection), and she’s a serial dater. she’s incredibly restless and doesn’t settle. before she came to seattle, she’d lived in 8 different cities in 3 years. born into a single-parent house with two older sisters so always surrounded by women and as a teenager she often let boys walk all over her bc she just craved male attention  -   every place she goes, she becomes a new character, someone who’s a figment of her imagination, as if each city is repertory theatre and she’s a character actress, so as a result everyone from her past views her as a completely different person depending on when she met them.   -   she’s been involved in a series of destructive relationships because when people discover she’s not who she pretends to be she often gets explosive and defensive.  -   (tw gun) she’s now under witness protection and moved to connecticut because she shot a previous boyfriend in self-defence and his family are trying to have her done for murder, but she got tired of being moitored so is now even on the run from the police / her faked identity.  - easy to get along with (provided you don’t anger, provoke or question her too much) because she WANTS your character to be entralled by her and will do whatever it takes to win them over. she wants everyone to love her   -  big into sports. big into gender politics. big into art. does a lot of art installation pieces to do with female and queer bodies. massive feminist. low key quite scared of powerful men bcos of her ex. wants to start a female only lesbian commune. big fan of the honey bee.

full biography

trigger warnings: drugs, domestic abuse, gun.

you never meant for it to happen. you’d heard the stories, of girls who let their man walk all over them, and thought to yourself “i’ll never be one of those girls…” the kind that eat low-fat yoghurt and drink slim fast to shred a few extra pounds because he said she was getting round in the tummy, or the ones who spent their evenings tied to a kitchen sink drinking wine while him and the boys played poker, wishing god, if only I could get out of here. not you, not you raised by strong women, four bright shining beacons. single mother with her hard-as-nails attitude and her stony glares, elder sisters (twins) one ginger, one blonde, one doctor, one lawyer, both determined to take a bullet to the brain and a hammer to the patriarchy before they let a man touch them without asking. you were always so inferior, so insecure and small, like a bird (like a sparrow) with blonde plaits down your back sucking tropicana whilst your bosom buds sucked dick, their lips permanently ripe with stories of their sexual exploits, fake tan and glittered nails whilst you sat in the unbroken egg of virginity wondering what it was like to be loved. one day you found out. 

lily milligan’s parents gone and a free house for the night, bottles of ouzo and tequila swiped from your mother’s liquor cabinet thinking she wouldn’t know (she always knew) your legs, hardened from pep squad, slut dropping on a kitchen table because the boys thought it would be fun to get the quiet girl drunk. you’d never had a sip before that night. band t-shirts, denim shorts and the split soles of rotten converse that you refuse to let go of, you still clutched with both hands to your youth, but in a tube top now (borrowed from alice carmichael who had a sister in college) and a short tennis skirt, your feet not in trainers but in thigh-high boots. uncomfy as hell but lily said you needed to look sexy. you didn’t know if you wanted to be sexy. you didn’t know what kind of girl you were, if you were even a girl at all. but robbie looked at you like he knew exactly who you were, like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and his lips had the pink cupid’s bow of a movie star, and his hair was dark locks, curling like a mane. his hands were soft, and suddenly on your waist, and after three more shots his lips were on yours and his name was the only sound in your head and on your lips as you lost it in lily’s college sister’s bedroom beneath the glare of a T-Pain poster. you bled for what seemed like hours, his hand still in yours, kissing on the sofa as truth tellers and daredevils continued to spin a bottle of unprecedented youth. you thought it was love. robbie was the one. he loved you, you knew it, how else could someone be so soft? but soon he grew bored, scrunched up your paper heart and set it alight. then came the tears, the hatred, the ‘fuck robbie, in fact, fuck all boys.’ and that you did.

you were known for being easy. any boy could be yours for a night, as long as he promised to love you for those few short breaths and pants before you cried yourself to sleep. you felt poisoned, but poisonous as well, as if by ensnaring these young boys you were gaining power over them, and not the other way around. soon it started to work. they’d want more, but you’d deny them it, sick of sucking off silly schoolboys, they’d call you a tease, a vixen. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help but want older men. you got the history teacher first time, him bending you over his desk to sneak a hand up your tennis skirt as the after-school clubs carried on next door, unawares. love didn’t exist, not for you. it was nothing but a game for pretty young girls to play, bubble gum in their canines and a hand tugging at the hem of their cheer skirt.

there was so much anger inside of your small body, ‘beware of boys and their hook-like words’. hockey helped. there was something formidable about the feeling of a stick like a weapon in your hands and the thwack it made against thighs in the heat of a scrum - “slipped, sorry!” - you’d utter with a snakeskin smile, millicent quinn knowing that you’d hit her on purpose because she shagged robbie at that party last week. she couldn’t prove it, cobbled acne on her forehead turning green with disgust. ben came into your life like a car crash. two years your senior, with a baseball jacket and shoulders like a god. he became your personal hero. on the pitch, he was lethal. together, you could bring anyone to their ruin. each day after last period he’d be waiting in his car. you’d leap into his arms like a girl-half starved, love me, love me, love me, your heated kisses the envy of every junior girl. he was yours for three blissful years, utterly yours, and you were his, his star-spangled girl, and he was your knight - you were both the same, playing games, always difficult to predict. it was a shock to all when he proposed, high-school sweethearts find love in south dakota.

the engagement was a bittersweet affair; three months – you barely out of your gingham print skirts and into a graduation gown, him, a surly quarterback towering above your sisters, cigarette at his lips and a scowl like a fart in a lift. they hated him. so did you. but you were eighteen and in love, and he fitted the cookie cutter mould. everyone wanted him, and you had him. you had him and you were happy, happy, happy, and he loved you. he said he’d give you the world, anything you wanted hand-picked and given to you. instead, he gave you a jack russell terrier and a flat you couldn’t swing a cat in, wallpaper peeling like the rotten bits inside of you, the bits that only he knew. and you got tireder and tireder of the sad excuse of a life he’d picked out for you, him out doing god knows what to pay the bills, and you dancing on tables to pave your way to stardom, and this was love, this was real, until the shine wore off and your fresh-faced, dimple-cheeked cheerleader facade faded and the ugliness started to reveal itself, the whining, the petulance, the sharp-tempered cruelty, the mind games, the need to always win, win, win. he was dull, he was boring, he was nothing like the boy the girls had said he was and no chiselled six-pack could hide his lack of anything remotely interesting, your patience wearing thin until it snapped like rubber, a rucksack on your back, running shoes on your feet and the joint bank account emptied into your eighth grade birthday wallet.

you built your small fortunes working the casinos of sioux falls, a crimson dress and an attitude to match. bookish archie with his little dipper freckles was fun for a month before he became just as dull and dreary as the rest. a three-hour bus and you were in minneapolis, bright eyed and bushy tailed, fresh meat ready for the pickings. a hostel here, a friendly co-worker’s sofa there as you made what you could by taking off your clothes and shaking your ass like you were back in pep squad, doing what you did best. you met your fair share of creeps, and soon it was back on the road to escape a wide-eyed stalker and a restless itch for more. milwaukee, chicago, you made the roads your own. log cabins and lodgings, and the occasional motel, a beaten up pick up truck purchased at a scrap merchants – you got a few miles out of it before it bit the dust, and when you finally set it alight after nights spent lounging across the driver’s seat, a parka tucked over you as a duvet, you were sad to see it go. you’re nomadic by fault, never attaching to place, people or things, creating a new personality in every place you go like a character actress; each town is a different repertory theatre, and you’re the star. a compulsive liar, you even fib about your own name, to some you’re ellen, nineteen, bookish, a law student who likes smoking and cosmos. to someone else you’re rita, you’re twenty-five and look young for your age, like smoking, comics and fucking in public places.

in the bright lights of michigan, you found charlie, sweet charlie, too good for you, though you let him spoil you while he thought you were the small town girl of his dreams. next came abigail, who was fun until the jealously kicked in, and then luke, gorgeous luke, dangerous, exciting, who despite his temper, despite the fights, despite bruises down your spine and your teeth marks on his arms, loved you with the strength of a wildfire. there was destruction in your wishbones, a savageness from the field, from the pitch and now somehow in his arms, you were godly. he was cruel, he was careless, and he refused to fall at your feet like so many other boys had, which only you made you want him all the more. you were rage incarnate. you hated him so fiercely you thought you might kill him, so he played the only card you wouldn’t predict; proposed.

the house you shared was a backstreet flat in detroit, you make your name as a downtown singer while he foots the bill with pills. they have a drug for anything these days, to dull the senses, to pick them up, to drive you to insanity or pull you out of the madness hole. the two of you live like criminals on the run (you never told him that you were, living out your days as the enigma he wanted you to be), you with your voice like caramel and fishnet legs. you were his and his alone until his hand was at your throat and the gun was in your hands screaming at him to stop, stop, stop, until a bullet stoppered his brain, crimson staining linoleum as you cast yourself out like lucifer. self-defence was decreed the moment they saw your violet neck, black tears and headlight eyes and mind screaming red, red, red like the pom-poms you shook so willingly in school and the insides of his skull. you were gone, and “you” was born, renamed “greta”, boxed, shipped-out, and next-day delivered to vegas where under witness protection you were a student, blank slate, fresh-faced in a place where no one knew your name, doing what you always did and starting again.

[farafeys]

instant karma

my third, most recent fic (written as a comic on dl-6 day adapted to prose the day after), and the beginning of an au i’m currently VERY focused on haha

Characters: Gregory Edgeworth, Miles Edgeworth, Manfred von Karma, Blaise Debeste, Raymond Shields, Bonnie Young, Franziska von Karma, and Sebastian Debeste, mentions of various other investigations characters

2,242 words; no romantic relationships; spoilers for aa1/turnabout goodbyes, spoilers for investigations 2 specifically the backstory mentioned in the inherited turnabout/aai2.4; not-super-graphic violence but violence nonetheless

on december 28, 2001, gregory and miles edgeworth go home safe and sound. about a year later, von karma finds his revenge in a different way. 

(link to ao3; fic under cut)

December 28, 2001

District Court 7:00 PM

The long long trial had finally reached an end. Miles could still hear the old judge declaring Mr. Masters guilty as he and his father walked into the elevator to go home.

Mr. Masters wasn't guilty. He knew, because his father said he didn't kill anyone, and he even proved that that mean loud old prosecutor man had forced Mr. Masters to say he did it. It was infuriating. His father had taken the loss with grace, elegantly accepting the unfair, incorrect verdict.

Miles glanced up at his father. He didn't look upset, his usual strong gaze watching the floor numbers tick lower on the elevator display. Miles watched it too, trying to mimic his stoic expression.

Then in an instant everything changed.

he couldn't see everything was dark

the elevator LURCHED        they stopped moving

he heard a yell that wasn't his father was it that man with the official-looking hat he'd forgotten he was there

what was going on—

And the lights turned back on.

They flickered, then stayed constant as the elevator smoothly began its descent again.

Miles found that he was clutching his father's arm. He felt somewhat embarrassed; it had only been a second or two, and he was too old for such things.

Gregory placed a strong hand on Miles’ shoulder. If he was frazzled by that incident, his face didn't show it. With a small smile, he asked, “Are you alright, Miles?”

He glanced between the ceiling lights and his father's kind face. “Y-yes, the light just— just went out, Father.”

The security guard sharing the elevator with them leveled a neutral look at the father and son. He seemed to be breathing almost as heavily as Miles.

Gregory squeezed his son's shoulder. “I know, dear, it's all alright. That was frightening, though, wasn't it?”

Miles nodded solemnly.

After several seconds of quiet, there was a gentle ding. The elevator doors opened onto the ground floor and the occupants all made their ways home.

About three minutes later, the same elevator let out a man holding an expensive cane, wearing expensive clothes, and thinking livid things.

January 15, 2003

Criminal Affairs Department- Morgue 2:00 PM

A simple slip of the tongue, a moment of forgetfulness, the vaguest implication, and multiple lives were instantly in danger.

Dr. Bonnie Young flinched as the tall man on the other side of the table roared, “FORGED? ”

“Did I hear you correctly, woman!?” Her face soured and she steeled herself against the cold eyes of the veteran prosecutor.

“I don't know what you're impl-”

von Karma cut her off, “Dover's autopsy was doctored and I was not informed.” His nostrils flared. Unflattering, she thought. “Correct?”

Dr. Young's denial stuck in her throat. Failure to keep the secret could easily cost her life but in the face of such an accurate deduction the lie she had prepared evaporated.

Too enraged to give her time to improvise, von Karma turned on his heel. “Enough.” He said nothing else as he strode out of the morgue, slamming the exterior door.

January 15

Chief Prosecutor's Office 2:30 PM

Blaise DeBeste was infuriatingly unruffled as von Karma burst into his office as if he were trying to tear the doors off their hinges. It was even more so as he leveled heated, snide accusations of his meddling in the Masters case.

The Chief leaned his cheek into his hand, grinning.

“REALLY, I got no clue what yer talkin’ bout, Manny. Are ya implying I'm at fault for that penalty last year?” His hands flapped lazily in rhythm with his words.

DeBeste reached up to adjust his ugly driving goggles. “Ohh, just the idea brings tears to m-”

“Do not condescend to me, DeBeste,” von Karma hissed. He leaned over onto the desk, getting into the other's space. By chance, his right hand brushed over a custom-made letter opener; the handle was custom engraved with a favorite phrase of Blaise's, 'previligium fori ’.

Manfred von Karma was not aware of this engraving. He was barely aware that there was an object in his hand, let alone a lethal one, as he gripped it unconsciously, fingers clenching as a means of sweating out desperate rage.

DeBeste, however, did notice this. His eyes narrowed, watching his hand as the other continued, “No one fools Manfred von Karma.” He was leaning far enough over the desk that spit flecked Debeste's face with every consonant.

DeBeste leaned back in his expensive swivel chair, glanced at the hand holding the letter opener, and took his favorite cigarette lighter out of his pocket.

“... Are ya threatening me, Manny? Cute.” He flicked the fire on and off, speaking to von Karma but not looking at him.

“What exactly are ya gonna do to the Chief, huh?” He glanced up once to smirk at von Karma's contorted expression. “Unless you wanna disappear?”

Several seconds of silence other than the subtle flick - whoosh - flicks of the lighter.

von Karma by now recognized that he was brandishing a small knife, and the idea of a simple and quick out to this problem was very enticing. He held onto perspective, the knowledge that they were in the Prosecutor's Office and that this man was more indestructible than even he himself, for a tense and chafing while.

The threat hanging in the air, inflamed by the nonchalant arrogance of its creator, felt like a string stretched taut over a quivering knife.

Somehow, something in the mind of that enraged man snapped.

In less than a minute’s time, Blaise DeBeste's assistant ran into the room at the sound of a pained shout. In less than ten minutes’ time, Manfred von Karma was handcuffed after being caught by a perfect witness with perfect evidence. In less than ten seconds’ time, and for the next five hours until all the evidence was documented, Blaise DeBeste's custom-made letter opener was lodged 4 inches into his heart, only previlig- visible over his bloodied chest.

January 15

Detention Center 7:30 PM

Ray stood nervous outside the visiting room door. He usually accompanied Mr. Edgeworth while talking to potential clients, but he had said that this visit was more a courtesy than anything, and he doubted they'd actually be hired. Knowing what he did about the man in question, Ray was glad both that they wouldn't be working with him and that he wasn't a part of this current conversation. Still, he was anxious for his mentor.

Inside, Gregory Edgeworth was enduring an unpleasant but, he thought, necessary conversation.

On the other side of the safety glass, Manfred von Karma sneered at him. “Don't make me laugh.”

His arms were crossed haughtily. “Defend me? Why not just spit in my face, Edgeworth?”

Gregory sighed and ran a thumb along his hat where it rested on the sill below the glass.

“Does the possibility of the death penalty not worry you?” von Karma's eyes flicked from his face to his extended arm. His glare deepened. “Everyone deserves an attorney, even you, Prosecutor von Karma.”

Gregory waited several seconds while the other glared at him, almost searchingly. Perhaps his words actually got through to him?

von Karma swallowed, then huffed a contemptuous sigh. “Leave now.”

His tone allowed no argument. Gregory stood, retrieved his hat, and bid the murderer farewell with a small nod.

January 16

District Court: Courtroom no. Three  10:21 AM

It was not a long trial. It made sense, what with how perfectly decisive the evidence was. The prosecutor called Dr. Young to explain the forgery of Isaac Dover's autopsy report, the subsequent reveal of which enraged von Karma to the point of attacking the man responsible for it. A perfectly precise motive.

Less than an hour and a half after the trial opened, with only three witnesses, the judge was ready to declare a verdict. There was no objection from the defense, as von Karma had refused the public defender offered to him, and had remained silent, glowering in the defendant's chair, the entire morning.

Despite how one-sided and clear-cut the proceedings had been, there was a tense anticipation in the moments before the verdict was called. As the judge's booming voice called out, “Guilty,” something just too sour to be relief filled the courtroom air.

Gregory and Raymond sat in the gallery a few moments past the time the rest of the audience had begun to make their way out. Just the two of them had come together, even though Katie Hall and Miles had both expressed strong interest in seeing the trial (Kate had a performance she couldn't cancel, although she asked Ray over the phone to tell her about the trial later; Gregory refused to let his son meet Manfred von Karma again, even at his murder trial, and even besides that pointed out that it was a school day.).

Just as the two of them got through the lobby into the main atrium of the courthouse, there was a quick tapping sound behind them, then a gentle hand on Gregory's shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Hmm?” Gregory turned around. The person who had stopped him, her hand now again at her side, was the prosecutor who had just convicted von Karma, Ms. Werther.

She spoke again, “You were the lawyer that got a penalty against him, right?”

Gregory assumed that she meant von Karma. He nodded. Raymond hovered behind him, watching over his shoulder.

Prosecutor Werther smiled a bit and jiggled the papers in her hand. The wind from it ruffled her impressively large ascot and coiffed white hair.

“There's been an issue no one at the Prosecutor's Office could help me resolve. Both von Karma and DeBeste had small children- a three year old girl and a very little baby boy, just over a year.” Her glasses were too thick to see her eyes and her posture was neutral, but a tremble in her typically steady voice betrayed strong feeling.

“None of us want them to go into the foster care system, especially not when they're fathers were our co-workers (...however corrupt). But they don't seem to have willing relatives.”

“But!” her voice got several shades brighter, “I remembered that your son observes your trials! I've met him during recesses, he's a very polite child. I thought, since you're a parent and already connected to the case, you might know what to do.”

Ray looked between the two lawyers. It was a little odd hearing this lady ask his mentor for advice about kids, especially since she looked quite a bit older than Mr. Edgeworth. Her hair reminded Ray of his grandma.

Prosecutor Werther cleared her throat. “Regardless, do you have any advice about these children?”

Gregory stayed quiet a few moments, his hand on his chin. “Prosecutor Werther,” he began. “... What are these children's names?”

January 15

County Social Security Office  6:57 PM

“That's the last of the paperwork! All the best to your family!” The man behind the agency desk gave Gregory a tired smile and handed him carbon copies of the documents.

“Thank you,” Gregory replied, doing the best he could to give a farewell nod at the same time as tucking away the papers with the sleeping Sebastian in his arms.

As far as adoptions go, Gregory may have set a record for speed. Thanks to the thorough work of Prosecutor Werther, gaining the official approval of a judge for Gregory to take in both Franziska and Sebastian was very much painless. Most of the day had been spent speaking with the children themselves (who were not in attendance of the trial but had been supervised at the courthouse during it), then dealing with the many and varied tedious kinds of paperwork. The whole process would have taken much longer without Werther's help in the groundwork and legal aspects, and Raymond's youthful energy and support, as well as his attempts to entertain a stressed, bored three year old girl.

As Ray saw Mr. Edgeworth returning from the desk to the waiting room, he sprung up from his chair and offered Franziska a piggyback ride. After some barbed questions and several tiny slaps to his arm, she agreed and was on his back by the time her new father was ready to leave.

They made their way to Gregory's car. He had offered to drive Raymond home that morning well before all this, and reiterated it several times over the afternoon. He felt no need to repeat it again now.

“...Thank you for helping me all day, Raymond, it was entirely above and beyond the expectations of your position.”

Ray laughed and hopped a little to keep Franziska from sliding down his back. She whined tiredly but said nothing. “ 'Course, Mr. Edgeworth! Ha, Miles is in for a big surprise in a bit, isn't he?”

Gregory internally winced for a moment. Aside from not yet telling his son about this significant change to their lives, he hadn't called him after being out all day. It wasn't unusual for him to be out late and Miles was both very capable and used to this, but it still weighed on Gregory's mind. He certainly wouldn't be able to try that trick anymore; he well remembered how much attention toddlers need, not to mention a 16-month old like Sebastian. Perhaps he'd be spending more time at home with Miles now.

“... Yes. A good surprise, I hope.”

[littlewritingrabbit]

It's late but honestly id take anything for the cow aficionado au (whenever u have time ofc)

I’m late too, but BOY do I have something for you anon! Thanks for waiting! :)

Here’s part 2 of @adhd-ahamilton‘s Cow Afficionado AU

Part 1

Introductions

Alexander shruggedhis backpack higher on his shoulders and walked up the drive past the toweringoak trees that dripped moss like molasses which swayed in the wind. Mepkinitself was an impressive property, but the house Alexander walked towards wasthe thing that really awed him. It was less of a house, and more of a colonialmansion when one got this close; three stories of creamy yellow walls and whitetrim, bordered by several positively ancient trees. Two staircases (becauseapparently one wasn’t enough) curved up to the front porch where a set of bigdouble doors welcomed any visitors like the entrance to a castle.

Alexander climbedthe steps, his suitcase smacking loudly against the stone. He brushed back hishair, set down his briefcase, and knocked on the painted wood. The sound echoedaround inside the house. A moment later, footsteps approached the other side ofthe door, and a lock clicked.

“Hello!” said theman with dark curls who had opened the door, smiling pleasantly. “You must beMr. Hamilton - welcome to Mepkin!”

“Thank you verymuch,” Alexander collected his briefcase and stepped inside, wobbling a littleas he attempted to pry one shoe off with the other.

“Not to worry, youcan keep your shoes on if you like,” said the man. “Can I take that?”

“If you don’tmind, thank you,” Alexander handed over his suitcase, which the man rolled overto beside the stairs.

“I’ll ask Mina tobring it up to your room for you,” he said. “I’m Christopher Shrewsberry by theway, Mr. Laurens’s long-suffering secretary. Not to worry, he knows that’s mytitle.”

“Long-sufferinghey?” Alexander smiled as Shrewsberry led him up another set of dark woodenstairs to a corridor that ran along the second floor of the house.

“Yep, overdressedand under-vacationed, you know the drill,” said Shrewsberry. It was true, hewas wearing a navy blue suit and a purple dress-shirt. He also had the strainedexpression of someone who had been reading paperwork all morning.

“Do I ever,” saidAlexander with a sympathetic grimace. “You know what Mr. Shrewsberry? I thinkwe’re going to get along just fine.”

“Well that’s arelief,” said Shrewsberry. “You know in the movies when a big-city lawyertravels to the country and is all pompous and afraid of nature? I’ve alwaysthought that was a ridiculous plot.”

Alexander nodded,but said nothing. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy nature, per se, but he felt hehad had his fair share of it on his walk here, and that was enough for at leastanother week. At least the house didn’t seem as rustic as he might have feared.Everything was immaculately dusted, though most of the furniture looked like ithad come from at least the Victorian era. Portraits of stern gentlemen and wiseladies stared down at him from the walls; probably the Laurens ancestors.Alexander wondered what it would be like to live in a place so tied to one’sfamily. Places like that tended to evade him.

“Here we are,”said Shrewsberry, leading him to a door at the end of the hallway. He knockedquietly.

“Come in!” said avoice, muffled through the wood.

Alexander heldopen the door and followed Shrewsberry into the most modern room he had seen sofar in this house. Henry Laurens’s office was decorated sparsely, with palegrey walls and dark wooden cabinets that somehow operated without handles. Thecarpet had a geometric pattern in shades of navy blue and coffee, and some sortof modern art sculpture like a two-dimensional cityscape in dark blue metaldecorated the bookshelf. The only vintage piece in the whole office was thedesk, which was imposingly tall and ornately carved, which was where Mr. HenryLaurens himself was seated.

“Ah, welcome toMepkin, Mr. Hamilton,” he said, half-standing in his seat and offering a veryfirm handshake over the desk. He was the picture of the old-fashionedbusinessman, composed and formal, rotund enough to signify success, and all themore dignified for being grey-haired. He struck Alexander as the type of manwho had probably played sports in his youth, and probably still bragged aboutit over rounds of golf.

“Thank you verymuch sir,” said Alexander, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet in person.”

“Indeed,” Laurenssat back down, “Good to see you Shrewsberry. Have a seat, both of you.” Theysat, as directed, in chairs opposite Laurens’s desk. “Now, I’m sure you’re wellaware of the general subject of our court case, Mr. Hamilton, but I’d like tomeet with you further once you’re all settled in.”

“Of course sir,”said Alexander, one hand already on his briefcase, “I’ve done some researchmyself in fact - about the judge and the Trade and Navigation Acts and theirhistory in South Carolina especially - and I think I have some ideas for thesort of case we could make.”

“Fantastic,” saidLaurens with a nod. “I can see you’re very keen to help, Mr. Hamilton, alreadyliving up to your reputation.”

“A good reputation, I hope?” Alexandersmiled.

“I’d say so,” saidLaurens. “I don’t want to trouble you before you’re ready though, so I thought youcould get settled in and then my son John could give you a little tour ofMepkin, nothing formal of course, but-”

A knock sounded atthe door.

“Ah, speak of thedevil,” said Laurens, “Come in!” Alexander heard the door close behind him. Hestarted to stand to greet the newcomer. “Mr. Hamilton, I’d like you to meet myeldest son, John …” Henry Laurens was saying, and then he possibly saidsomething else, but Alexander never heard it, as he recognized who had justwalked in the door.

It was none otherthan the good-looking cow-aficionado from the forest.

Alexander’s breathcaught in his throat. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he wasprobably just staring in dumb shock for a moment or two as his mind tried toreconcile the abstract ironic comedy movie his life seemed to be turning into. Hekind of wanted to swear, but all his instincts of self-preservation told himthat would be unprofessional, so instead he made his expression as pleasant aspossible and extended his hand.

“Pleased to meetyou,” he said.

For a briefmoment, it seemed as if John was going to object (his eyebrow was dangerouslyquirked), but then he smiled back and shook Alexander’s hand. “Pleased to meetyou too Mr. Hamilton,” he said, “And welcome to Mepkin. I hope it won’t be toorustic compared to the big city you must be used to.”

“Oh nonsense,”said Henry Laurens, completely oblivious, “I’m certain we can make Mr. Hamiltonfeel quite at home here.”

“Thank you verymuch for all your hospitality sir,” said Alexander, “It’s very kind of you.” Hetried not to look at John, who had put on a dressier plaid shirt and pulled hishair back into a sort of knot since he left the forest. Unfortunately he wasquite good-looking.

“It’s the least Icould do,” said Laurens, “After all, I really couldn’t survive this casewithout a lawyer. Now, if John had finished his degree, I might’ve just gottenhim to do the job, but you can’t have it all, like they say.” John visiblyclenched his teeth, but said nothing. “Anyways,” Laurens stood, promptingAlexander and Shrewsberry to stand as well, “I shouldn’t keep you. I’ll see youfor dinner, Mr. Hamilton.”

“See you fordinner Mr. Laurens,” Alexander nodded, “And, uh, Mr. Laurens,” he nodded atJohn. “Thank you again.” He followed Shrewsberry out of the office, and stoppedto close the door. From the other side, he could hear Henry begin to comment onhis son’s hair: it looks hooligan-like,John, I really don’t know why you won’t cut it.

“Everything youexpected?” Shrewsberry asked with a smile over his shoulder. They climbedanother flight of stairs.

“Very much so,”said Alexander. “He’s exactly like his emails.”

Shrewsberrylaughed as they reached the door on one end of the hall. “I really can’t tellif that’s a compliment or not,” he said.

Alexander shruggedand slipped off his backpack as he entered the room. It was a tidy little placewith a window overlooking the back garden, another ancient-looking desk, and amap of the world on the wall. Someone had already brought his suitcase up andplaced it beside his bed.

“Well, I’m off,”said Shrewsberry, “There’s people in Georgia to contact, reports to write, andit’s my turn to pick Willow up from school in approximately…” he checked hiswatch, “…two and a half hours.”

“Willow?”Alexander asked. Was there another Laurens sibling he had yet to meet?

“She’s mydaughter,” said Shrewsberry in explanation. “Nice to meet you Mr. Hamilton!”

“You too Mr.Shrewsberry.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Once he was surehe was well and truly alone, Alexander collapsed onto the bed, whispering a fewchoice words into the duvet. I havescrewed up, he thought, I havescrewed up so, so badly. It was such a mess it was almost comical. He’dtreated the man in the forest like a complete idiot… his client’s son. Therewas literally nothing stopping John from describing the incident to his father,and then it was anyone’s guess what Henry Laurens would do. For now, however,John seemed content to just hold it over Alexander’s head, which was debatablyworse.

Alexander’s mindprovided no immediate solutions to the problem, other than that nothing couldbe solved by lying there all day, so he stood up and changed out of the dressshirt and blazer which had started to smell from his trek through the woods. Heput on another dress shirt with blue pinstripes and inspected his appearance inthe mirror. “You look like a professor,” he muttered at his reflection, androlled up the sleeves.

Beside the door, amap of the world was pinned over the wallpaper. It was done in an old style,but Alexander was fairly sure it was a new map, as it was in such goodcondition. His eyes traced the familiar countries, Canada bordering the UnitedColonies of America, which in turn bordered Louisiana, which bordered Mexico,with the Allied Indigenous Nations stretching across the middle of thecontinent. For some reason this steeled his nerves. No matter the personalaspects of this case, the most important thing was that they were standing upagainst the corruption of British agents, which had plagued America ever sincethere was an America to plague. This was bigger than his new cow-whisperingacquaintance, bigger than Mepkin, bigger even than a court case ought to be. Itwas a state putting its foot down, a rattlesnake finally forgoing the warningand taking a bite.

Someone knocked onthe door to Alexander’s room.

“I’m supposed togive you a tour… when you have a minute,” said John from the hallway.

Alexander sighedquietly and gave the map one last look. This was going to be one long month.

[elviiez]

hello! my name is sam and i’m v excited to be here bc this rp seems so cool! without further ado, allow me to introduce zak bagans ryan bergara elvie croft! details are below the cut, so please lmk if you wanna plot!

elvin tupelo croft, known mostly by the nicknames elvie or el, was born on halloween day in salem, massachusetts and he’s actually related to one of the many folks who were executed for “practicing witchcraft” back in the day, so yeah...he was always gonna be a spooky nerd like he basically had no chance oops

anyway, he had a pretty typical silver spoon childhood. his mom is a rich accountant and his dad is a rich lawyer, so elvie grew up in a nice neighborhood with a huge house, attended a highly respected private school, always got anything he asked for, etc etc etc. he has a great relationship with his parents even though they were always a little absent from his life because they were working all the time. the only thing they could never quite agree on was that elvie always wanted a younger sibling but his parents always said no aw

elvie was only four or five years old when he first fell in love with the horror genre. his parents would go out on date nights every weekend leave him with some teenage babysitter who didn’t really give a shit what he did lmao SO. of course he stayed up hella late watching horror movies that terrified and excited him at the same time and of course he immediately fell in love with them. his interest quickly expanded from just movies and went to shows, cartoons, books, comic books, magazines...you name it, and if it’s horror-related then there’s a very good chance elvie LOVES it.

fast forward to the age of fifteen and elvie suddenly knows what he wants to do with his life! well, okay it wasn’t suddenly...he’d been watching ghost hunting shows for a while by that point but it wasn’t until then that it finally hit him...he wanted to be a paranormal investigator — chasing ghosts, demons, cryptids and the like. he asked for a video camera and evp recorder for his sixteenth birthday and the rest is history!

elvie would go on to start his youtube channel that very year and it would immediately BLOW UP. his channel is basically buzzfeed unsolved supernatural tbh. at first he stayed local, but once he got to college elvie began taking weekend road trips to do investigations of haunted locations suggested by his viewers. as of right now, his subscriber count is at about 10 million so he’s obviously put a lot of work and care into his channel over the last seven years. 

he attended college for business in order to please his parents and by that i mean...he went to harvard university akslfh. i can’t believe him! anyway, his parents are both alumni which probably helped him to get in, but elvie graduated valedictorian of his fancy private high school and while he definitely doesn’t seem like the type, he actually has a genius level iq, so that’s that on that! he honestly hated college & hated all of his classes because it always just felt like a waste of time to him, but went through with it for the sake of his parents because he loves them aw

he dipped the moment he was done with final exams though lmao. started to do his little road trip & investigation deal full time which is all his life has been for a little over a year now. he arrived in baltimore at the start of summer ‘18 and has been renting one of the bigger & more expensive units here in mulberry apts ever since! he’s been filming videos in the maryland/virginia area and has a few more planned before he plans to move on and go somewhere else, but lmao joke’s on him bc he’s clearly sticking around!

i think that’s enough of a backstory NOVEL, so let’s move onto personality & some extra fun facts!

he’s a very awkward horror-loving nerd who can be really bad at talking to people sometimes because he never really?? had friends growing up. he was the nerdy kid with braces and glasses who couldn’t play sports because he gets chronic nosebleeds and all he ever wants to talk about is how much he loves star wars and alfred hitchcock so he was the stereotypical nerdy kid who was getting his ass kicked by the football team every day

can get easily annoyed at which point he's obnoxiously sarcastic but for the most part he’s a total sweetheart. he’s a space cadet so he might zone out or go off into his own little world from time to time, but he’s an extrovert who genuinely loves talking to people so just give him a little nudge

doesn’t flaunt his intelligence at all and in fact, most people probably don’t even realize how smart he really is because a) he’s not exactly waving that harvard degree in anybody’s face and b) despite being very smart, elvie usually comes across as a total fucking hyperactive scatterbrained chaotic dumbass which negl he absolutely is like! he loses shit all the time, talks to himself, trips over everything, brews his coffee with monster instead of water and drinks that radioactive shit until he’s basically fuckin vibrating from how much gd coffee he’s inhaled...a Mess™, truly

survives on junk food, his personal faves being licorice, pizza, and anything else that’s loaded with sugar

loves horror movies and scifi so fucking much like...he literally has a dvd collection that is so big it’s actually overflowing from his multiple shelves at this point

he also has two pets named freddy and jason and they’re...tarantulas which is fucking horrifying so fyi on that! esp to anyone who lives on the seventh floor bc elvie doesn’t really keep track of the lil guys all that well oops?

flaunts his money a little bit but not really on purpose it’s just that...okay look he’s a rich youtuber from a wealthy neighborhood so he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it most of the time.

that being said...he’s got three cars. all black, all rolls royce. he got the ghost for his sixteenth birthday, the phantom when he got into harvard, and the wraith when he graduated from harvard asklfh. what a spoiled brat! anyway. you’ll usually catch him driving the wraith but he loves the ghost & phantom and invites you to stare at them enviously as you walk through the building’s parking lot lmao. i’m kidding fr fr if you want a ride just let him know and he’s gotchu.

his hometown is close enough to boston that he’s got a bit of an accent but doesn’t realize it and would not know what you’re talking about if you tried to point it out to him. that being said, he can also be SUCH A TYPICAL BOSTON DUDE™ SOMETIMES...except for the fact that he knows absolutely nothing about sports! he’s too nerdy for that shit lmao

seems pretty fuckin fearless and honestly he can be...like he’d deadass summon a demon for kicks oH and also he’s obsessed with halloween and there’s a good chance he’s already jumped out of nowhere with a michael myers mask on to scare the shit out of half the people in this building and i apologize for that truly!

okay that’s enough from me! i’m like 10000% sure no one read this far into it and that’s valid! 

[shitkkwrites]

Comfort

From one of my in-progress works, titled “Love Found, and Lost.”

Trigger warning for mentions of childhood / teenage abuse, so proceed with caution.

“Fedya?”

“Yes, love?” Alfred said distractedly, one hand preoccupied with his red, white and blue-colored fidget cube.

“Are... are you sure you can talk about it? I-I mean... it's okay if... if you don't want to,” Ivan said softly, slinging one arm around him. They'd ended up in Al's bedroom, which was decorated in what he guessed was a typical American-style: sports team posters all over the walls, one occupied shelf housing various football-related awards, a helmet that had a place of honor in-between all the accolades, comic books piled haphazardly here and there, the soft glow of a desktop computer whose screensaver had been set to dancing rainbow lines; a clothes hamper that wasn't half-full yet.

They'd ended up on his bed, which was cheekily decorated with a Captain America motif'd bedsheet, although there was a Thor plush toy on the bedside counter, looking really battered and worse for wear (it was Al's only memory from his previous home).

“W-well... I... I think I can, if you're here. You should know, me and Mattie are... different,” he began, his fingers idly flicking the fidget cube. “I look up to him like a hero. Which he really is. I mean...”

“Hm?”

“...haven't you ever wondered why it's just me and him in this house?”

 “Well, Fedya... I did think about it from time to time, but...”

“You see, it's like this. Me and Mattie aren't from here in Montclair. We used to live down south. Like, way down south,” he began, looking anywhere but at his boyfriend.

“Florida?” Ivan inquired, curious. He could only guess as to why Alfred was avoiding his gaze, but he decided to let his boyfriend do his thing as he continued talking.

“No. We're originally from San Antonio, Texas. Our parents... well, sometimes I'm envious of you and your mom. Your dad's a bit scary though.”

At this, Ivan could only snort.

“True, my father may be like that. But I know he cares about us siblings. He's just not... as... expressive, I think? Yes. Not as expressive as my mother is. But anyway, you were saying...?”

He then looked at Alfred, who'd stopped messing with the fidget cube and had placed it beside the Thor plushie, before picking up the battered stuffed toy and holding it rather tightly.

“Our parents... they only cared for their wealth and ambitions. Mattie wasn't supposed to be a lawyer, in all honesty. He wanted to be a veterinarian. But our perfectionist prick of a dad... had other ideas. So, Mattie was forced to become one. As for me? Well, I got lucky before they started forcing me to become an engineer...” he trailed off, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“Dorogoy, what do you mean—?”

“My mom didn't really care much about us. It was always our dad who ruled over everything back home. Maybe she was scared. Seeing him get corrupted by the money he earned. He... he wasn't like that before,” he broke off as he squeezed the plush toy as hard as he could to hide the fact his hands were shaking. 

“It was like... he changed overnight. And in a way, it changed everything in our family. I could tell Mom was unhappy, but she didn't want to speak up, because she was beaten whenever she tried to. I... we grew up hearing her crying every single night. It was...terrifying,” he muttered, fighting the urge to cry.

“Fedya...” Ivan said softly, before drawing the shaking American into a warm hug. “It's okay, it's alright... you don't have to talk if it upsets you,” he whispered softly, rubbing Alfred's back as he did so.

“I tried to sneak into her room, to tell her that the screaming was unbearable, but she'd just look at me before slamming the door shut in my face. Since then? I had to block it out. Every. Single. Night. There were other times Mattie would get beaten, and I'd hear him cry out, but I couldn't do anything. The next day he'd be all smiles and then tell me to keep my chin up as we headed out to school. And then...”

“And then...?” Ivan prompted, still rubbing Alfred's back. 

“I'd stay out of his hair as much as I could, of course. But there are times I'd get on his nerves, and then he'd beat me up too. Oh, it's nothing too serious, don't worry,” he broke off, trying to lighten the mood a little as Ivan's hands stopped running up and down his back. “Mattie was the one who had to bear the brunt of it all. Sometimes he'd defend me from our dad when I'd get into trouble. Other times I defended him, even if he told me not to.”

“Fedya... I didn't know. Are you sure you'll be okay? Talking about this?” he asked, an apprehensive tone in his voice before looking at Alfred once more.

“Y-yeah, I'll b-be fine,” he whispered back, both hands now all but squeezing the plushie he was holding. “I guess I just needed someone to... hear me out.”

“Fedya. If you're not okay with talking about it, we can stop here. I mean, I know it hurts. It hurts me, too. That you were treated that way...”

“Oh, V-Vanya...” he choked out, resting his head into Ivan's shoulder. It took a few moments for the Russian to realize that his shoulder was slowly getting damp.

“Shh... you don't have to continue,” he reassured the American, wrapping both his arms around the other trembling figure. “S-sorry.” 

“N-no, I... I can manage.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, skepticism in his voice.

“Y-yeah...” Alfred trailed off, not realizing that he was already crying hard in his boyfriend's arms. 

“W-well, anyway, things got to a head after my fourteenth birthday. I didn't know that Mattie was going to like, drop a bomb that one evening. When he came out to our parents... that's where things got really nasty.”

“How... how so?” Ivan asked, as he had an idea of how it felt. He'd come out to most of his family after he'd turned eighteen, and while the reception on his end was mostly knowing smiles from his sisters and (an unexpected) sigh of relief from his mother, his father was the hardest one to gauge out of them all.

“We were just about halfway done with dinner when Mattie apologized, cutting across the silence and then just outright saying, 'Mom, Dad... I'm gay,' and that set off the shit storm. Mom began to cry before bailing from the table, and while I was a bit surprised at his pronouncement, I wasn't expecting our...dad to stand up, and then point to another room of the house,” he began, stopping to catch his breath before he continued, 

“It was... horrifying. The silence was pressing down so hard, I almost went crazy. When he and Mattie left, and I was all alone at the table... that's when I heard... the screaming. It wasn't my mom though. It was Mattie...”

Silence was the only reply Ivan could give, before threading one of his hands through Alfred's hair, giving him reassuring, gentle pats.

“And then... and then, after that, I tried to block it all out. It was... I couldn't do anything much. I wanted to run to my room, but hearing Mattie scream for his life... I tried to intervene. I-I tried to stop our dad, but...”

“But?” Ivan continued, waiting for him to continue.

“B-but... when I did get the c-courage to follow them into th-the living room? Mattie told me to... to stay out of it. Of course, I didn't w-want to. I'd heard so much, I don't like to hear those sounds anymore. I was halfway into the room when Mattie all but broke free from... from dad's hold and shoved me out of the room, telling me to wait for him after it was all over. So, I did the next-best thing: I-I fled to my room...”

“Oh, sunshine...” Ivan whispered softly. If he was an empath, he'd have exploded due to the rolling waves of sadness that were permeating all around his boyfriend right then and there. It was like a sea of nothing but blackness had rolled out from Alfred; the painful, heart-wrenching kind that could effectively rip a person apart to shreds in a manner of moments.

“I... I couldn't sleep that night. It was l-like, an hour before dawn when my r-room door finally opened and Mattie peeked in. It was then I knew he'd had enough. So, a year later we fled.” 

“It's a good thing you did... otherwise I wouldn't have met you,” Ivan began after a long silence, a smile crossing his face. He'd let Alfred melt into his arms, the way he was crying, and just whispered soothing things in Russian, even if he knew the other one couldn't understand it.

“So... you're also like me and Mattie...?” The sandy-blonde muttered hoarsely, shoulders still shaking from the latest round of crying he'd just released.

“Da. I haven't told you yet, have I?” He rumbled, unable to fight off the smile on his face. “And you thought I was straight?”

“Oh, Vanya, you have no idea,” Alfred muttered, still muffled in his shoulder. It was really warm there for some reason, and he just wanted to stay in that particular spot. “Well, now that I know you're also gay... it's kind of a relief, actually. What if I was dating someone who wasn't, and was just forced to? 

“Oh, sunshine. Even if I was straight I'd still let you date me,” he continued, this time gently taking Alfred by the shoulders and slowly moving him so they faced each other. “It's okay now...” he whispered, one hand slowly rising up so he could brush the last of Alfred's tears away. “I'm sorry if I was such an idiot the first few times you talked with me.”

“Yeah, you were a regal prick. A regal pissy depressed prick,” the American chuckled, a weak attempt at humor. “Glad to see you aren't. And you're still a bear.”

“Whatever, Fedya.”

“Love you too, Vanya,” he said back, quirky grin on his face before blinking in surprise as this time, it was Ivan who'd initiated contact by closing the distance and cutting him off with a soft, gentle kiss on the lips before he could say anything else.

Instinctively, he slowly wrapped his own arms around Ivan, one hand still hanging onto the plush toy as the other slowly wound its way into the ash-blonde hair, nudging his head closer, unwilling to break the contact between them. It felt so warm, really. Not like with the times he had to act like such a poser in front of his team mates with a girl hanging off his arms. This was just... perfect.

Unable to resist, Ivan then tilted backwards, bringing Alfred along with him as they fell onto the sheets, the Russian's arms wrapping around his lanky frame as he held him closer, afraid to let go of him now that he knew just how...wrecked his ray of sunshine was.

“I'll protect you,” were the first words Ivan whispered, slowly breaking away from Alfred's kiss before brushing a kiss on the American's nose. “I may not be as... good as Matvey in some aspects, but I promise you, I'll protect you. From anything. From everything. From the world, if you wish. 

“Matvey?” 

“Your brother.”

“Oh,” was all he had time for as Ivan began trailing a soft thread of kisses upwards from his nose, to his forehead, before going back down his cheeks and then burying his face in the crook of Alfred's neck.

“Vanya?”

“Yes, love?”

“Th-thank you. For hearing me out.”

[ltbroccoli-archive]

Verses (Mobile)

CHILDHOOD baby broccoli

Pre-canon, headcanon based. FC: Liam Aiken & Louis Hynes. Reg is a timid child, growing up in Cleveland. This childhood is not a happy one; Reg’s mother is particular and controlling, his sister is caring but often gone, and his father is completely out of the picture.

STARFLEET ACADEMY seclusive tendencies

Pre-canon. After entering the Academy at age 17, Reg follows the operations track, with a specific focus in general engineering and systems diagnostics. He is a good student, but noted for his tendency to keep to himself.

ENTERPRISE flagship of the federation

TNG canon. Reg is a Systems Diagnostics Engineer aboard the Enterprise D, holding the rank Lieutenant Junior Grade. At first he struggles to fit in, turning to the holodeck to cope and eventually succumbing to full-blown holo-addiction. However, with help from Chief Engineer La Forge and Counselor Troi, Reg recovers from this and slowly but surely finds himself a place aboard as one of the crew’s top engineers. He also participates in some of Dr. Crusher’s theater programs, and is the preferred cat-sitter for Data’s cat Spot.

NTH DEGREE the person i’ve always wanted to be

TNG canon for the episode “The Nth Degree”, subverse of above. After an encounter with a Cytherian probe, Reg’s intelligence, confidence, and artistic abilities have all been vastly increased to far beyond that of a typical human. His personality has also been altered, driving him to integrate himself with the ship’s computer via the holodeck. As the computer, he initiates a deep space jump into unknown space, where the crew meets the Cytherians themselves, who are peaceful. Reg is then returned to normal.

JUPITER STATION the only engineer i trust

Canon, between TNG & VOY. Due to his expertise in holographic technology, Reg is briefly assigned to Jupiter Station to assist Dr. Lewis Zimmerman in the creation of the Emergency Medical Hologram. Though their natures seem direct opposites, Reg and Zimmerman remain friends well after this short assignment. By now, he holds the rank of Lieutenant.

PATHFINDER how lonely that must be

VOY canon. Reg is assigned to the Pathfinder Project on Earth, based in StarFleet’s headquarters in San Francisco. Their main object is to locate and contact the starship Voyager, lost in the Delta Quadrant. Reg has a bold idea to contact the ship, which is turned down; determined, he breaks into the project headquarters and implements his plan anyway, risking his entire career. It is successful, and Reg is able to maintain semi-regular communication with the starship, befrending a good number of the crew.

PROFESSOR no different than the borg queen

VOY post-canon. Years after Pathfinder Project, Reg, now a Commander, returns to StarFleet Academy as a professor. Though he mostly sticks to engineering and astrophysics classes, he enjoys a special class on the Borg co-taught with Admiral Janeway every few years.

MIRROR ( TERRAN EMPIRE ) making an opportunity

Mirror universe, based on the TNG comic series “Mirror Broken”. The great Terran Empire has fallen to the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance… mostly. A handful of ships survive at the edge of Klingon-Cardassian space, gathering their forces and hoping to one day take back what was theirs. After years of serving aboard the I.S.S. Stargazer as an engineer, Reg finally seizes his chance for greater power by assassinating Security Chief Tasha Yar. Now appointed the new Chief of Security, he is part of Picard’s senior staff as they take over the Terran Empire’s newest starship, the I.S.S. Enterprise.

MIRROR ( TERRAN RESISTANCE ) the world turned upside down

Mirror universe, inspired by DS9 canon. Reg’s mother is a Terran collaborator, willing to trade in her own people for a few basic comforts. Growing up, Reg learned very quickly that anxiety and timidity wouldn’t cut it – he had to learn to defend himself. His sister Jax helped him a great deal, teaching him how to fight. At times, the siblings even dare to trust each other.

However, when Jax overhears their mother’s plans to trade Reg into slavery, they take matters into their own hands, killing her in her sleep. After that, they flee to the other side of the quadrant, joining the Terran Resistance. Reg quickly proves his usefulness as an engineer, while Jax struggles to prove anything at all. Finally, she goes alone on a dangerous mission… and never returns. She is presumed dead.

VOYAGER CREWMAN set a course for home

Voyager based AU. After serving aboard the Enterprise E, Reg briefly transfers to the starship Voyager for what is meant to be a three week repair of the ship’s systems. However, it turns into far more than that when Voyager is thrown 70,000 lightyears away into the Delta Quadrant. Now a permanent member of the crew, Reg is in the running for Chief Engineer, losing the position to former Maquis B'Elanna Torres. There are few hard feelings, however, and he does all he can to assist her and be one of her top engineers.

MODERN welcome to the world of tomorrow

AU set vaguely during modern times. Year range is flexible anywhere from the 1960s to present day. Reg’s mother is a very rich lawyer in Cleveland, Ohio; his father is out of the picture, kicked out of the house during his childhood. After going to community college for a few years, Reg moves to a small town to become a mechanic, working for Geordi La Forge. He lives in a tiny, dirty trailer half a mile away from his work, where he has essentially adopted all the stray cats in the area.

HARRY POTTER draco dormiens nunquam titillandus

AU based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. A full detailed timeline can be found here. For Reg/Liz specific verse, info on their children can be found here.

As far as Reg knows, he is a perfectly normal human – until Minerva McGonagall shows up at his home one day to explain that he is actually a wizard. All of the random occurrences and accidental cat summonings suddenly make sense. Alicia is determined that her son will not be any part of this nonsense, but finally agrees to let him attend Hogwarts School of Witchdraft and Wizardry, just so he can learn to control his abilities.

Reg’s sister takes him to Diagon Alley, where he gets his school supplies and his first wand, larch wood with unicorn hair core. When he arrives at Hogwarts, he is immediately sorted into Hufflepuff. Though he struggles with his magic at first, he grows stronger and stronger as his confidence increases, until he is one of the most powerful wizards in his class.

During his time at Hogwarts, Reg also discovers that he is not a Muggle-born, as he always believed; his father, whom he has not seen since age seven, is also a wizard, which technically makes Reg a half-blood. It takes several years for Reg to find and reach out to his father, but he eventually does. Both are Hufflepuffs.

After graduating, Reg moves to Hogsmeade, where he works for several years as a magical repairman. He discovers he has a knack for making magic and Muggle technology play along. Eventually, after the Second Wizarding War, he returns to Hogwarts as the new Muggle Studies professor. Several years later, he becomes the new head of Hufflepuff house.

STARGATE chevron one encoded

AU based on the Stargate television series. Can be based on SG-1 and/or Atlantis. Dr. Reginald Barclay is one of several scientists assigned to work at Area 51, studying alien artifacts brought back to Earth as part of the top secret Stargate program. Though he does good work if assigned to something small on his own, he struggles to make himself heard when in collaboration with his colleagues, though he is slowly getting better.

Eventually, he is pulled from Area 51 and sent to Stargate Command itself, where he works under Colonel Samantha Carter. Here, he struggles even more to fit in, as everyone else has quite the reputation and he is just… some nervous new scientist. But he manages to prove his worth.

When crew is being chosen for the Atlantis mission, Reg reluctantly volunteers, despite being terrified of the Stargate. Upon reaching the alien city itself, Reg is surprised to find that he loves it, all the strange spires and endless views of the ocean planet. He is less enthusiastic about his boss, Dr. Rodney McKay, but he tries his best regardless.

THE ORVILLE we have got to get better people

AU based on The Orville television series. Most backstory information is the same as main timeline verses. Lieutenant Reginald Barclay is a recent transfer to the U.S.S. Orville, working in the Engineering department.

POKEMON gotta catch em all

AU based on the Pokemon franchise. Mun is mostly familiar with the first three generations. Throughout all of his childhood, Reg dreams of being a Pokemon master, like most children. However, that is not to be. His mother demands that he find a sensible job, and forget that foolish nonsense. His only Pokemon for many years is a Meowth named Mira, who he found abandoned and injured and took care of. Mira eventually evolves into a beautiful Persian who will not leave her owner’s side.

Reg eventually becomes a mechanic and handyman in Cerulean City, where he makes a decent enough living. His older sister, meanwhile, pursues her dream of becoming a Pokemon trainer, finally settling down near Saffron City. As the years pass, Reg starts amassing a small team of Pokemon: his Persian, Mira; a Glitten with a mangled paw named Wrigley; and a Dragonite named Oscar.

FARSCAPE rattlers in the stomach

AU based on the Farscape television series. Reg is born on a small Sebacean colony near the Uncharted Territories, and he grows up knowing that he may one day be conscripted into Peacekeeper service. When the day finally comes, it’s all he can do not to cry as he is pulled away from his family and forced to live aboard a cold, harsh military vessel.

Soon enough, everyone learns that he simply isn’t suited for a soldier’s lifestyle; he is too hesitant and soft. To everyone else, sending him off to be a tech is a demotion, but for Reg, it’s perfect. It’s work he can actually do, and work that doesn’t require any actual combat. As long as he doesn’t think about what he may be supporting, everything is fine…

WARRIORS may starclan light your path

AU based on the Warriors book series. During a particularly harsh WindClan leaf-bare, two kits are born. Sparrowkit is named for the color of her fur, while Stammerkit is named for the odd way he shakes and trembles. Little did anyone know how accurate Stammerkit’s name would later turn out to be.

As apprentices, Sparrowpaw excels in all areas, particularly fighting, while Stammerpaw struggles with everything. Eventually, he grows into a good hunter, but his fighting skills lack. Sparrowpaw becomes a warrior, called Sparrowsong, before him, much to Stammerpaw’s dismay. After several more moons of hard work, Stammerpaw eventually earns his warrior name as well: Stammertail.

Though not a gifted fighter, and not a good choice for a mentor, Stammertail is fiercely loyal to his Clan and serves them in his own ways. He is an excellent hunter and tracker, and often can be found helping the queens with their kits or helping the medicine cats gather herbs. However, he tends to freeze up during battles, and is often left behind to guard the camp.

REG & D'RORAH daughter of light

With drorah-walks. When an immortal being decides to relive a human childhood to rekindle her connection with humanity, she chooses Reg to be her father. He agrees, and D'rorah Philosophy enters his life as his five-year-old daughter, the result of a weekend on Risa who has just lost her mother. Reg has no memory of making this agreement, fully believing that this child is truly his daughter… until an accident in engineering causes amnesia. When his memories return, so do his memories of what D'rorah truly is. However, he decides to continue, unwilling to leave the child he loves without a father just because he’s afraid.

Reg and D'rorah are inseparable, even when she is grown up and moved out. D'rorah eventually adopts a Cardassian girl from a Bajoran orphanage named Rilla, who Reg loves to spoil rotten. When Reg dies, D'rorah’s memories of who she really is will slowly return, and she will have to live on forever without him…

REG & LIZ kidnapped

With nashforhire. Elizabeth Nash needs to hide from some former business partners. The best way to do that is with a bit of a human shield; she chooses Reg. After kissing him, running through Deep Space 9 with him while under fire, and taking him all the way to the Gamma Quadrant, no one would expect Reg to want anything to do with her ever again. And yet… he does. They slowly become unlikely friends, and then more, until Reg finally asks her on a date. While Reg is still stationed on the Enterprise, he and Liz have a long-distance relationship, seizing every opportunity to see each other that they possibly can. However, even that finally isn’t enough, and Reg transfers to DS9 to live with her and work for Chief O'Brien. Eventually they are married and have four children: Sofia, Oliver, and the twins, Charlotte and Victoria.

RUNAWAYS ( REG & LIZ ) partners in crime

With nashforhire. Reg and Liz have been best friends since they were children. Considering their respective childhoods, there are some days where they are the only good thing in each other’s lives. Eventually, at age sixteen, Liz decides she can’t do it anymore and decides to run away, leaving Earth behind entirely. After some hesitation, Reg agrees to go with her. It isn’t easy, and there are several close calls where StarFleet almost catches them to drag Reg back to his mother. But eventually, they have their own ship, the Nomad, and run their own shipping business together.

REG & AELLA she’s on my mind

With empathicstars. Reg slowly befriends a Betazoid communications officer aboard the Enterprise, Lieutenant Aella Moore. Eventually, he has a fairly serious crush on her, but before he has any chance of asking her out, the away mission from hell happens. The two are accidentally beamed into a warzone, and Reg throws himself in front of a phaser blast to protect Aella. The shot should have killed him. But Aella, trained in her telepathy by Vulcans, initiates a mind meld to keep him alive. The meld has strange effects on both of them, even after their return to the ship, and neither of them quite knows how to move forward…

REG & Q show me the stars

With qisforqaos. Q has always been a nuisance to Reg. Always. That is, until he starts taking a liking to Reg and showing him around the universe… befriending him… and perhaps even more…

REG & MURDOCK oh brother

With drowningvoices. Reg and his twin brother have always done everything together, until StarFleet. That’s when their assignments took them different directions, and while Murdock rose in the ranks, Reg barely made it past Ensign. Then one day, Reg got the news – his brother had been in a horrible accident, and his mind was no longer what it was. Now, Murdock lives full-time in a psychiatric hospital, where Reg visits as often as he can. The two are extremely protective of each other, even still.

REG & ALARA only fools rush in

With flightxless; The Orville AU. Reg and Alara meet during less than ideal circumstances, when they both have been captured and must escape together. A few weeks later, however, Reg transfers aboard the Orville, and upon realizing they are now on the same ship, he works up the courage to ask her out.

OHANA ad augusta per angusta

Group verse, AOS based. Primarily on Discord. After encountering a strange anomaly, Reg has been thrown back to the Enterprise A of an alternate timeline. With almost no chance of getting home, he does what he can to settle into this new life, primarily working with the ship’s prototype holodeck system.

[screechthemighty]

“cut man” is the best daredevil episode, part one

Seriously, y’all, this is my favorite episode of Daredevil ever. My favorite. I have so much to say that this post is going to have a part two. That’s how much I love it. Here’s the first batch of my thoughts. Be warned, it’s a big batch. Again, here are the ground rules for these meta posts. Strap yourselves in.

This post is primarily going to focus on Matt’s interactions with Claire, because I think they set a baseline for how Matt acts in his natural state--not as charming Matt, not as Matt who is more himself but keeping parts of himself contained, not as Daredevil, but as Matt. It can be difficult to tell early on, because he is still keeping secrets, deflecting from her, etc., but there are contrasts between his behavior with her and his behavior with, say, Karen.

The way he talks to her is the first big clue. He’s very soft-spoken as he does, with none of the usual “get down to business” surety he shows when he’s lawyering or the obvious confidence he exhibits when being charming. It’s more akin to how he spoke to Karen when he promised he’d keep her safe, or when he was discussing his blindness with her--both moments of real vulnerability. It’s especially obvious when he asks what Claire’s name is, and when he thanks her for her help (especially that one, also it’s really hard to keep my shipper goggles off for that moment. It’s so hard, you guys).

There’s also the funny moments of honesty he exhibits when talking with her. He openly admits to where he screwed up, the fact that he was careless, all of that. Again, there’s less of the surety he exhibited in the police station. He’s not trying to seem like a big, tough, scary superhero who has everything under wraps. He’s a guy who’s in a lot of pain and knows why and is fine admitting to it. Only because it’s physical pain, though. Matt’s far more open about his physical pain than his emotional pain (even when he’s lying about his physical pain). It’s really depressing.

Something I think is interesting about his whole deal with Claire is the fact that he is more immediately honest with her than he is with others, in part because the jig is up on a lot of things. He can’t say he wasn’t in a fight, or that he isn’t blind--those are undeniable facts. So, he tells her the truth, or as much of it as he feels comfortable telling. In my mind, this parallels the way Matt does finally open up to Foggy when Foggy finds him bleeding on the floor in “Nelson v. Murdock” (oh BOY the analysis of that episode is going to be fun). Matt might be fine with lying, but he also seems to know when he can’t lie anymore. It’s rare that he keeps trying to lie his way out of a situation when there’s nowhere for him to go. The only exception to this is with Karen, whom he constantly tells lies and half-truths to. It’s possible that this is because she has yet to really back him into a corner yet. Both Claire and Foggy found Matt in compromising situations (harder to back out of, easier to just be honest), while Karen doesn’t really until season 2, and even when she does it’s nothing that really screams “Daredevil” or anything like that. It’s also possible that it’s because she gives him an out that Claire and Foggy don’t. They want answers; she is (for the most part) content to let Matt tell the truth on his own terms. It’s an interesting detail, and I’m definitely going to be keeping an eye out for it as the episodes go on.

On a final note with his behavior around Claire, he trusts her enough to try and find her again after he saves the kid (while we don’t see it, that is his intent in asking where she’s going to stay, and I don’t doubt that he found her again after he was done). This is an interesting parallel to him letting Karen stay at his place, despite them having just met and him (as I theorized in my last post), probably not completely trusting her. But he trusts her enough, and he trusts Claire enough. It’s easy and very true to say that Matt doesn’t let people in, but I don’t think it’s the complete truth. Matt lets people in all the time. He let Karen into his life in that moment because he felt some emotional connection with her and wanted to help her. He lets Claire in--lets her see him vulnerable, again--because she’s proven herself to be trustworthy, even kind (which I think is a big deal in light of his comment last episode about wishing he could find even one innocent soul--how big a deal must kindness be for him?). He just doesn’t let people all the way in. When he does, he seems to be most comfortable doing so by degrees--as we’ll see in his relationship with Claire (which doesn’t get enough love in my opinion, and I’ll fight about it).

Another thing that comes to the forefront in this episode is Matt’s connection with children or young adults. Remember how in my assorted notes for last time I indicate that I thought the way the kid cried out for his father when Matt was listening on the roof parallels the way Matt cries out “Dad? Daddy?” after Jack is shot? I was right. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg for this episode. There’s some really good meta someone wrote about the subject, also tying it into Jessica Jones, so I’ll just leave it here and add that I co-sign it wholeheartedly. There’s another detail from this episode that ties into the theme of Matt’s own childhood trauma making him empathetic towards people younger than him: his reaction to hearing Santino on the stairs. “Oh, no. He’s young. He’s scared.” He knows that sound, he recognizes it, and he sounds like he’s dreading the fact that he might’ve scared a kid. That also ties in to the way he--who had been really stressed about someone possibly seeing his face earlier in the episode--immediately takes off his mask so he won’t scare the kid he rescues. It’s the best, but it breaks my heart.

There’s also the connection to Matt’s repeated mantra of not being afraid, of always getting up, no matter what. I’ll talk about that more in the upcoming Jack Murdock post (AKA the Pain Post), but there’s an interesting moment here that isn’t super directly tied into Jack, so I’ll talk about it here, too. The show cuts from Matt telling Claire that she can’t give into the fear to a moment of him as a child reading that Thurgood Marshall quote we’ve all come to know and love. For me, that says something about how long Matt has clung to this concept of fearlessness--since he was ten, at the youngest, which is about 2/3 of his life at this point. With everything else going on in his life--being a blind orphan, abandoned by people who are supposed to care about him, struggling with depression and trying to find his place, it might’ve been one of the only things giving him any comfort.

I’ve seen some people discuss the fact that show!Matt seems to be less funny than comics!Matt, that comics!Matt cracks more jokes and they wish they would implement that character trait in the show. While I agree that show!Matt is less prone to out and out jokes (he makes fewer blind jokes than comics!Matt, for instance), I disagree in thinking that he is any less funny than in the comics. In fact, he can be freaking hilarious at times. It’s just a very dry, sarcastic kind of humor that can be hard to pick up on (especially when he’s in Charming Matt mode, where everything he says is done with the express intent of Maximum Charm). But I’ve decided to start compiling some specific instances of Matt’s sarcasm and jokes, just to prove that this grim boy still has a sense of humor. (Quotes by others in the conversation will be in italics.)

“Maybe I can help clean the place up a bit.” “...is this place messy?”

“...so you’re either blind, or in way worse shape than I thought.” “Do I have to pick one?”

“Yeah, well, you’re catching me on an off night.” He says as he lies bleeding on the couch of a total stranger.

There are some moments in his dialogue that do remind me of the Waid run, particularly how Matt constantly takes potshots at people in his internal monologue. Example in this episode: “You’ll smell him soon enough. He really likes that cologne.”

“Hold still. I might do some serious damage if you squirm.” Matt, you are about to stab this man in the eye socket, now is not the time for sarcasm.

“Add to that, he can take an incredible amount of punishment without one damn complaint.” “The last part’s the Catholicism.” This is still, to this day, my FAVORITE LINE in all of Daredevil--nay, in all of the Marvel Netflix universe--and the line that completely sold me on the show and Matt as a character. I love this episode so much.

Assorted observations:

“They’ll kill everyone in the hospital to get to me.” Another example of Matt’s catastrophic thinking, perhaps? While the Russians are shown to be ruthless and willing to do some messed up shit to get to Matt, their behavior up until Anatoly’s death later on isn’t exactly that level of “shoot-em-up.” But Matt really does seem to believe that he’d go that far.

Something I noticed on my first watch and continue to latch onto with every rewatch is the way the sounds of the city filters in as pre-blindness Baby!Matt sits at the table and waits for Jack Murdock to come home. Proof of a previously existing sensory processing condition, perhaps? I know that the walls in those places can be thin, and that cities are loud (it’s why I personally can’t stand them). But it could also mean something deeper, especially if you subscribe to the autistic!Matt headcanons.

Matt ends up in that dumpster with 2 or three broken ribs, a probable concussion, multiple slashes, and a stab wound serious enough that it causes air to become trapped in his chest, nearly collapsing his lung. He walks out of Claire’s apartment with all of those injuries, and goes on to kick the asses of seven to eight bad guys, some of whom were armed with guns. I say this both to point out that Claire is a hell of a nurse if she can patch him up that well, and also to point out that Matthew Murdock is a force of nature whose stubbornness and drive surpasses that of almost any other Marvel character. Seriously, YOUR FAVE COULD NEVER.

Matt’s treatment of his blindness is definitely interesting. There are times when he seems at peace with it--in this episode, the “There are other ways to see” moment--but his conversation with Karen in the first episode implies a sense of discontent with it that not even having badass supersenses can erase. It’s not something that gets explored too often, even in the show, and I’m of the personal opinion that the time he talks to Karen about wanting to see the sky again might be the only time he’s completely honest about it. Every other time, he seems to be emphasizing the positive traits (sometimes to the point of erasing his own blindness...but we’ll get to that in season 2), possibly to avoid pity. I can see that being a motivation for him.

Foggy asking Karen if she wants to talk about what’s bothering her and adding that “’leave it alone’ is not my strong suit” is a great moment between the two of them, but is also interesting in light of his relationship with Matt--Matt, who is notoriously bad at talking about how he feels about anything. How many times did he ask Matt that same thing? How much did he have to persist to get Matt to open up about anything? Did he ever get Matt to open up about anything? I wish we had more college flashbacks between the two of them. Also, I love Foggy.

The matter of whether or not Matt enjoys this pops up at the end of this episode. I won’t be really discussing that until “Nelson v. Murdock”, since it’s an issue that comes to the forefront there, but it’s telling that Matt responds to the statement by stopping, having  a quiet moment, and then leaving. It’s a question that I don’t think even he has an answer to right now--probably because he’s too afraid to think about the answer (especially in light of his obvious discomfort at talking about his anger issues in the first episode).