#or they have to twist it in being wholly jacks fault which isn’t so good either

[shallowrambles]

anon, the short answer is…not really. my block style is mostly merciful, i think. i’m also gifted with the ability to forget the faces and usernames of even users i DO like, so i rarely remember who i blocked after a certain point.

one thing i do despise when ppl reblog you en masse with walls of text, cluttering your feed, then delete their responses before you can reply, or act as if as if passive aggressiveness can be erased by signing everything with “<3.” i favor directness, and that is…the opposite.

but in that case too i see the person is usually troubled…and usually literally also torturing themselves w my blog and i feel like i’m doing them a huge favor by blocking. they get to save their energy!

[captain-sodapop]

Don’t even get me started on Dean’s mischaracterization by the fandom

You bet your ass I have a lot to say about this.

I almost don’t even know where to begin.  So I guess we’ll start by my saying this: I love Dean Winchester.  Like...obviously.  There are a lot of reasons why, and they’re not all just because I find him...insanely attractive.  I can relate to his oldest sibling struggles; I love what a total goober he can be, his selflessness, his concern for humanity as a whole, his defiance, his dorkiness, and the way he has evolved over the years.  He’s like Shrek - he has layers.  Especially now that the boys have been in the bunker for seven years, we can see a more domestic, gentler side to him.  He’s a caregiver, he loves his family and friends, he doesn’t take any shit.  Dean Winchester, like many of the characters on this show, has many admirable qualities.

But he is also deeply flawed.

From a writing point of view, if Dean were perfect in every way, like a superhero, he would be so fucking boring, so he’s more entertaining and realistic as a character with flaws.  Dean is an alcoholic with anger issues; he is incredibly impulsive; he’s constantly putting his foot in his mouth and saying either incredibly insensitive things or poorly-timed jokes; he often views situations as his way or the highway (which to me is why Sam is a much more effective leader than Dean is - not because Dean isn’t smart or is incapable, but because he sometimes becomes something of a...well, a dictator, as he has admitted to seeing himself as in his darkest moments.)  Dean is a really smart guy, too, don’t get that twisted, but he has been shown at times to be somewhat...ignorant.  He is a brilliant tactician, street smart, in-tune to the emotions of others, and is very culturally savvy, but due to a myriad of reasons, he did not have the education that Sam has, or is programmed like Cas to “not get words wrong” or know a bunch of the weird mysteries of the universe.  The fact that he isn’t formally educated in itself is not a flaw, but there’s definitely an ignorant streak in him that I think you can see in his devolving bigotry towards supernatural creatures and almost a lack of knowledge of what’s going on in the world around him (remember how Sam was the one in 13x23 who brought all the Apocalypse World refugees up to speed?)

These qualities can all coexist with each other.  Dean can be an adorable, smart,  old-school nerd who watches Jeopardy! every night (which I would love to see) and not be as traditionally educated as Sam.  And that’s okay.  He can love deeply and fiercely and still be a complete and utter jackass at times.  And that’s okay.  He can stand up to the authorities of the universe and still turn around and boss people around.  And that’s okay.  He can admit to loving rom-coms and then turn around and don his mask of traditional masculinity.  And that’s okay.  And he can go from making burgers and giving Jack his robe to keep warm to screaming at the top of his lungs because he is angry and scared and frustrated and doesn’t know what’s coming next.  And that’s okay.

The reason I’m saying these things are okay is not because I’m excusing Dean for being an asshole sometimes, but because it makes him a more realistic, balanced character that is interesting to the audience.  Perfection is completely unrealistic.  Problem is, a lot of Dean stans - while they know these flaws are a part of him - are not willing to accept that sometimes, Dean is wholly in the wrong.  They try to shift blame and skew the narrative so that Sam, Cas, Jack, Mary...practically everyone Dean loves are responsible for his behavior.  

Which is bullshit.

Dean is the only person responsible for his actions.  The mischaracterization by the fans comes in when they fail to accept this as fact.  They want Dean to be the idealized version in their heads, and use the people he loves as scapegoats for his behavior.  

The most egregious example of this is, probably to no one’s surprise, season nine.  Co-dependence aside, I think Dean really thought he was doing the right thing by saving Sam.  The Winchesters don’t live by the same rules as everyone else, so he thinks it’s just the thing to do to bring Sam back from the brink of death and save him no matter the cost, no matter what Sam himself wants.  Not that Sam wants to be dead, but the way in which Dean had to save him was...very violating and eventually had tremendous repercussions.  Did Dean mean for any of that to happen?  No.  Was Sam right to say that he didn’t want to be brothers anymore?  Probably not, but I also understand where he was coming from and don’t think he completely meant it and was instead trying to both hurt Dean and express his anger at the situation.  But at the end of the day, Dean still made all the choices for himself, and Sam’s anger was completely justified.

Look again at season eight.  The situation is completely reversed: Dean is in Purgatory, Sam is on Earth with a dog and a house and a woman he loves.  Sam is trying to process his grief and move on with his life.  He was completely, utterly alone and rudderless without Dean and Cas.  This is...normal.  People important to you die, and it’s devastating, but Sam was trying to move forward because bringing people back usually has terrible consequences.  Sam is not wrong for doing this.  He is not.  He is not to blame.  Dean has forgiven him for this.  Regardless of what you think of Amelia and the nitty-gritty of the storyline, Sam is not at fault for how Dean chose to react to his choices.  It’s understandable that Dean would be upset by Sam choosing a normal grief process because of their past choices, but he has since forgiven him.  

Neither brother is better than the other for the choices they make because they have both done right and they have both done wrong by themselves, each other, and others.  Same goes for characters such as Cas, Mary, and Jack.  At the end of the day, none of the main characters are any worse or better than the others.

So a lot of fans might get the classic rock, the drinking, the love of cartoons and Jeopardy!, the love for his family and his kitchen...but it often stops there.  They ignore his faults - or simply say his aren’t as egregious - and blame others, or they try to prove that he’s smarter than Sam, or more righteous than Cas, or that Jack or Mary or whoever don’t deserve even the time of day from him because he’s so superior.  Fucking bullshit.

I am good with a Dean Winchester that constantly gaffes, prefers slasher flicks to books, and wears every emotion - good and bad - on his sleeve.  I do not need him to be the smartest, most righteous, morally superior person in the room.  He is who he is, the good and the bad, and he has evolved as a character every season to become a truer version of himself, and as Dean himself says: “I’m good with who I am...and maybe I’m just too damn old to want to change that.”

[vagrantblvrd]

Sunrise over Darkness (1/1)

Summary: It’s strange enough venturing back into the Cosmodrome with everything that’s happened since Bauble found him, but going back with Ryan is just -

“Oh, there’s another cluster,” Ryan says, and Gavin twists around to see him harvesting spinmetal leaves. “Just a few more and I’ll have enough.”

Odd.

It’s very, very odd.

Notes: Prompt fill for @demoncowedgar who wanted something in a Destiny AU. :D?

Follows No Place for the Living.

(Read on AO3)

It’s strange enough venturing back into the Cosmodrome with everything that’s happened since Bauble found him, but going back with Ryan is just -

“Oh, there’s another cluster,” Ryan says, and Gavin twists around to see him harvesting spinmetal leaves. “Just a few more and I’ll have enough.”

Odd.

It’s very, very odd.

The Cosmodrome is as eerie as it’s ever been, cries from distant Fallen patrols echoing oddly off the high metal walls and rock walls. Lingering echoes of the SIVA crisis that has Gavin watching where he sets his feet far more closely than he normally would.

Commander Zavala hasn’t officially lifted the quarantine on the Cosmodrome, but he also hasn’t said anything about Guardians slipping in here on Banshee’s latest quest either. (For Banshee’s sake or the link to Cayde-6, it’s anyone’s guess.)

The change of heart may be for Banshee’s sake and the link to Cayde-6, or perhaps there are other more urgent matters weighing on his mind with recent events. Things that make disciplining errant Guardians breaking quarantine pale in comparison. (Commander Zavala isn’t pleased about Guardians running around the Cosmodrome again recklessly as ever, but he hasn’t spoken out on it either.)

Gavin sighs as he finds a comfortable spot on a rocky outcropping that gives him good line of sight as Ryan searches for more spinmetal. Something to do with one of Rasputin's WARSATs clipping his jumpship on a mission to Mars a week back.

There’s a glimmer of light by his shoulder and he smiles as he sees Bauble hover into view.

“It’s odd, isn’t it,” she says, voice pitched low. “You’d think a Titan would be a bit more...reticent to set foot here with the quarantine.”

Gavin hums, sniper rifle leaning against his shoulder. It’s natural for respective classes to look to their Vanguard mentors for leadership first with the way things are organized in the City rather than with the Vanguard as a whole, but few of them are blindly loyal anymore.

Too much upheaval in such a short time, things that weren’t quite secrets as just...not spoken of coming to light time and time again. More than enough to have Guardians question whether or not the Vanguard is infallible, especially with Cayde’s death.

(Funny how it’s the Hunter Vanguard mentorship that changes hands so often, while the Titans and Warlocks stand solid and steady. Maybe there is some truth to the jokes and friendly jabs every Guardian’s heard at least once.)

“You’d think,” Gavin murmurs, smiling as Ryan has an argument – no sorry, as he’s been informed the two of them engage in <i>debates</i>, not arguments – with Reggie.

Flailing hands and wide gestures and Reggie’s shell flaring out with little spins and flourishes either mocking him or unconsciously mimicking him, difficult to tell.

“Looks like arguing to me,” Bauble grumbles, and Gavin doesn’t laugh at the way he can feel her watching him, no.

No reason to get into a debate themselves, after all.

Movement behind Ryan and Reggie and Gavin’s reaching for his sniper rifle, easy as anything as Bauble flickers out of sight.

Ryan and Reggie give no sign of having noticed they’re not alone as their debate continues, and Gavin huffs a laugh echoed by Bauble’s through the speakers of his helmet as he scans the area.

A Marauder, two, creeping up on the shiny pair of idiots in the shadow of an old building. Cloaking tech glitching on them every now and then and Gavin almost feels bad about it as he takes aim.

And then Reggie blinks out of view as Ryan snaps around, hand cannon pointed unerringly at the Marauder Gavin’s not aiming for.

“Wait,” Ryan says, and Gavin holds his fire as requested.

There’s a standoff as the Marauders drop their cloak, no need for it now they’ve been seen. Guardians versus Fallen and even a year ago it would have ended predictably, but now?

Ryan cocks his head, just so and the Marauders share a look, chittering to each other before they lower their weapons and take a step back.

Look back to him and gesture at the harvested spinmetal growth, hunched low to the ground and ready to run.

Ryan lowers his hand cannon, tilts his head the other way and gestures towards the Mothyards. More spinmetal to be found there and the Guardians roaming the Cosmodrome at the moment seen content to explore The Divide rather than venture this far out.

The Marauder closest to him stands a little straighter and says something to Ryan he must be able to understand because he holsters his hand cannon. The Marauder regards him for a long moment before it taps the second Marauder on its pauldron and they set off towards the Mothyards, reactivating their cloaking technology when they’re nearly out of sight.

“Hmm,” Bauble says, reappearing in another glimmer of light over Gavin’s shoulder. “Interesting.”

Things are changing out here, and Gavin hopes it’s for the better.

Ryan turns to look up at Gavin and Bauble and tips the two of them a jaunty little salute and offers a cheeky, “Thanks!”

Gavin snorts as he settles back into a comfortable slouch as Reggie reappears and launches into a lecture about Ryan being a reckless fool of a Titan, although it sounds less stern than fondly exasperated.

Ryan nods along in the right places, makes these little noises like yes, yes, and you’re absolutely right and ooh, more spinmetal! as Reggie floats along behind still lecturing for all he’s worth.

========

Gavin leaves Ryan to negotiate terms with Amanda in the hangar and heads to the Tower courtyard which is bustling with activity as always. Guardians bartering materials for goods and showing off new bits of armor or weapons.

Ghosts flitting about catching up on gossip and trading bits of information on enemy patrols that haven’t been updated on the Vanguard networks yet.

Bauble gets sidetracked in conversation with a Warlock’s Ghost near Master Rahool’s booth, and he shakes his head as he visits Tess at the Eververse counter to see what the handful of engrams he picked up in the Cosmodrome hold for him. (An armor ornament or two, pretty new Sparrow for a race somewhere and other items he trades in for Bright Dust.)

It’s a lovely day, warm and sunny with birds calling to each other as they flock about the banners and whatnot about the Tower.

He should stop by Geoff and Jack’s quarters later, spend some time catching up with them as it’s been a while since he’s been back to the Tower for more than a pit stop. Spend some glimmer around the Tower vendors for more than the essentials, take some time to enjoy the chance to let his guard down.

A voice calling his name has Gavin look over to see a pair of Titans approaching. Battle-scarred armor and a look in their eyes that means trouble in Gavin’s immediate future.

He gives serious thought to bolting for it, given the last time he ran into these two. The impromptu race through the Glacial Drift on Mars that ended with the Titans going over a cliff – which by the way, wasn't his fault. (Heavy Titan armor and improperly calibrated engines and honestly, honestly, any Sparrow racer worth their salt would know better.)

“Well, well, well,” Michael says, hand landing heavily on Gavin’s shoulder. “Lookit who we got here, Jeremy.”

Jeremy grins, and like the menace he is, cracks his knuckles.

“Aw, now,” Gavin says, cheerful grin and laughter building up as he spots Ryan and Reggie headed towards them. “No need to be like that, Lads.”

They’re ridiculous is what they are. Playing the big, scary heavies like Gavin owes them glimmer or caught them up in a bad deal over parts or something similar. Armor adding to the image because Titans and those pauldrons of theirs that seem to get bigger every time Gavin turns around.

Michael snorts. “Aw, no need to be like that, Lads,” he says, doing a terrible job of mimicking Gavin’s accent. “You owe us a rematch, asshole.”

Jeremy nods, smacking his fist in his hand like that’s any kind of threat from him.

“What he said,” he says in the least threatening way possible because Gavin can hear him trying not to laugh, break character and ruin this little farce of theirs.

Big, bad Titans picking on the poor little Hunter and really.

“Is there a problem?” Ryan asks, nice and mild and taking his cue from Gavin instead of cracking Michael and Jeremy’s heads together the way he looked like he wanted to when he first spotted the three of them.

Michael blinks, sharing a look with Jeremy before they two of the leave off bullying Gavin and turn to face him.

Another little standoff, only this time it’s a trio of Titans and Gavin rolls his eyes as Bauble floats over and makes that quiet little humming noise she does when she’s studying Guardians in their natural habitat.

Still puzzling out their eccentricities and other such things as though she expects to wholly understand them one day.

“Fascinating,” she murmurs as the three idiots before them forget they were sizing each other up in case a brawl broke out and start discussing their armor, because of course they do.

“Titans,” Gavin sighs, and decides he might as well grab a bowl of ramen in the bazaar while they’re having a chat for old time’s sake.

========

“Interesting friends you have,” Ryan says, plonking himself down on a stool beside Gavin. “I think they challenged me to a race on Mars?”

Gavin chokes on his drink, winces as Ryan chooses to be helpful by pounding him on the back and forgetting he’s still in armor.

“Oh?” he says, and wonders if he’ll get grief from the others if he warns Ryan to calibrate his Sparrow  if he takes them up on it. Glances over to see Ryan with this adorably confused smile on his face and decides the poor bastard will need the advantage. “Might want to mention it to Amanda before you go.”

She’ll know what to do.

“Hmm,” Ryan says, casting Gavin a look, like he knows there’s something Gavin’s not saying. “It has been a while since I��ve brought it in.”

Gavin’s sure Reggie does his best to keep Ryan’s Sparrow up to spec, but there’s only so much a Ghost can do when it comes to these things.

That, and Amanda’s a genius when it comes to Sparrows and jumpships, knows how to pull the best possibly performance from them without sacrificing efficiency. All these little tips and tricks she’s picked up over the years no one, not even the most skilled Ghost can hope to emulate.

“Any recommendations?” Ryan asks, skimming through the menu. “I don’t think I’ve been here before.”

Gavin shrugs. He’s not a connoisseur, but this little ramen shop is one of the most popular ones around. There’s a framed picture of Cayde in a spot of honor, and Gavin’s got an expired coupon stashed away in his vault because Guardians carry an odd sort of sentimentality with them, don’t they.

Claim they have no time for it, but small things catch them up time and again. Little rituals they’re not aware of, habits they form without realizing.

“Can’t go wrong with the spicy ramen,” he says, and laughs at the look Ryan gives him, leaning in to explain the joke that isn’t a joke, because Hunters.

[ardenttheories]

What would be the perfect 12 person session, and would your classpect be apart of it?

Well! Here’s a basic rundown, followed by my reasoning behind them all:

Mage of Space, Knight of Rage, Thief of Breath, Sylph of Blood, Seer of Mind, Heir of Light, Maid of Hope, Witch of Doom, Prince of Void, Bard of Heart, Rogue of Time, Page of Life

x

You need to have a Space player and a Knight, almost immediately. It’s imperative to have both in order to breed the Frogs, but I don’t think combining both into one is a good idea (a Knight of Space would mean a lack of Space in the session, which is definitely bad).

What you really want, I think, is a Knight of Rage. A session that lacks Rage is a session that lacks negativity; it’s also a session with one hell of a fighter. Can you imagine someone who exploits Rage? Someone jacked up with adrenaline at all times, paranoid and fearful and anxious and living on the edge, never able to be taken down because they are always prepared, always cautious - and always able to send their enemies into a blind Rage that makes them easy pickings for everyone else. 

Helping with the Frogs would require a Space player that’s more active than passive as a result. A Knight in my eyes is the passive player, though a Knight of Rage would be furious enough to lead the charge in any situation; so a dangerous quest for Frogs seems ideal. Having a Mage of Space - someone who knows literally everything there is to know about Space, beginnings, creation, pretty much the very core of SBURB and how to create the frogs almost off the bat - would be perfect in this situation, then.

Next, lets think about the Thief. As I said in an earlier post, I think a Thief represents what a session has too much of, as a way of replicating what a Knight shows a session lacks. It’s the active-passive binary that draws me to it so much, honestly. So what would you want a session to have too much of? Breath. Too many options, too much freedom, too much movement and flexibility - yes, it comes with too much detachment, but I have a solution for that, too. If we say that the Thief represents the concept of too much choice and freedom, then surely that means they’re guaranteed for success? That final end, the final reward, is the biggest freedom of them all! And it means there are several paths they could take to get there; really, all they need to do is figure out which path they like best and go down it. 

So, how do you counteract the Thief’s representation of too much detachment? Sylph of Blood. Someone who is there to heal those broken frayed bonds, to keep everyone together, someone who spends their time ensuring everyone has someone else - they are essentially the glue that keeps the group together. A Sylph of Blood is a stubborn and compelling person to have in a team that might face division; in the end, they’d definitely strengthen the bonds of the team to such a degree that everyone was friends on such deeply profound terms that they’d act a bit like a closed group, needing nobody but each other and being happy for it.

Now, I said that because of the Thief, there’d also be a lot of options the players could work with, right? So naturally the best options to go for from here are the Mind and the Light players!

A Seer of Mind would be crucial for this session; someone who can see all the options laid before them, and direct the entire group down to the most beneficial path; guiding them, coercing them encouraging them, until eventually they even act themself and take a physical role in ensuring the team succeeds. There are plenty of ways they could do this, and essentially their goal is to do so in the most cost effective way possible. It would just make it easier on everyone else - especially with all of that freedom - to have someone to guide them, someone who can see what everyone will do and drift them towards whatever might be the best course of action.

An Heir of Light would be a good companion to the Seer of Mind. While the Seer takes care of the options, the Heir takes care of the information. They are pretty much drawn to information, to things of importance; they might stumble into a cave and just so happen to find something that ends up being crucial to their session. They’d analyse every piece of information the players uncover, and come up with the answer to the Ultimate Riddle in no time flat. Heck, they might even contact their Denizen well before they’re meant to, and complete their quest the fastest out of any of them, having understood through hints from the Consorts just what they were meant to do! Though they do have the issue of hyperfocusing on topics well beyond what they’re meant to, the Seer will help guide them back to a more useful path. 

A Maid of Hope might be pretty useful, too! Though they’d start out a victim to the Sylph’s fussing and meddling, and suffer a severe setback due to it, they have plenty of time and the guidance of the Seer to help them figure out the path they’re meant to steer more towards - or perhaps just the aid of the Seer to get the Sylph off their back. Once they really come into their own, you’d have a session bursting with Hope. Joy, good feelings, love, positivity, the belief that they can do anything - the Maid can do it all. They can even help bring the group closer together if they believe in their abilities together enough, but most amazingly of all they can create whatever they truly believe in and make it real. So if the Maid truly, wholeheartedly believes that they’re all going to succeed and beat the game? Then by all means, that game is going to be beaten. 

Next up, I think a Witch of Doom would pretty much be a requirement. While Witches rebel against their nature, and yes that means this one would rebel againast Doom, they also actively control it. Imagine a session where the Witch decides what does and doesn’t form a Doomed timeline, what does and doesn’t constitute a Doomed self. A session where the rules are made to be broken, where the concept of Prospit and Derse can be bent and twisted into something wholly beneficial. This might actually make the battle against the final bosses a doddle; something akin to how the trolls did their session, but with the ability to take out both monarchs and maybe even to unite Prospit and Derse under the universal banner of Skaia. No isn’t an answer to this Witch; if they want it to happen, it damn well will. Of course, morality is a big issue with Witches, but the Sylph and Seer will both ensure they don’t take it too far.

A Prince of Void could be a potentially positive influence on the players of the session, particularly in context of the Knight and Page. They destroy any secrecy, any hidden information and any lack of importance; they destroy the idea of meaninglessness and the concept of confusion or doubt. What better way for a Page to learn something than for the Prince to snarl it out in their face, give them something to chew over for a bit before trying, going beyond the advice of the Sylph and really pushing themself to do their best? What better way for anyone in the session to realise how important they are as part of the group than to have the Prince doggedly remind them of the machine that they’re part of, the role they’re going to take at the end? It might be overwhelming, yes, and I have no doubt some of the players would fear the Prince’s truths - and might also fear the Prince’s inability to keep any sort of secret - but being forced to see their own secrets is important, too. A Knight who realises they aren’t lacking, that they’re just filled with worries that have no logical basis, is a Knight who can progress much faster than usual. The Prince thus not only acts as an aid to the Heir of Light, but also as a way for faster development to occur in everyone else!

Surprising as it is, I think a Bard of Heart would be beneficial for the team. They need something to go wrong, someone to be some sort of challenge to them, to test their capabilities as a group and make several of the members interact with one another. A Bard of Heart would be good at this; someone who is initially laid back, allowing others to cover up their Heart, their personality, their Soul with their own loud voices, someone who is distanced and logical and rational to a fault. Someone who is unbiased and relaxed, going with whoever wants to take the lead at the time. Their Bard split would cause them to explode with emotion, to be ruled by their feelings beyond reason, to being so overwhelmingly passionate for something that they can barely handle it. The Prince would likely be the reason this event happens, revealing something the Bard didn’t want revealed, and the Sylph, Seer, and Maid would likely be the ones that have to carefully put back together the pieces of the Bard. It would be messy, oh hell it’d be messy, but it would open the eyes of the Prince to realise that they have to be careful with what they say, that their destruction can really hurt people, and it would challenge the people around them to scramble to help. Also? Imagine an irrational Bard of Heart running around screaming while everyone else seems to have some part to play in the grand scheme of things. It’s that little bit of weirdness every session needs. 

Following this, a Rogue of Time would be a good addition. This session has so much going for it, someone who struggles with the concept of The End, but eventually comes to understand that it’s not actually something to be scared about, would help edge everyone closer and closer to the final reward. A Rogue stealing Time to give everyone else a chance to breathe, to work on what they need to, to recover from everything that’s happened, to enjoy their good times - it’s what they need to keep the session going, to stop everyone from falling apart under the stress of it all. The Rogue, too, needs to learn that you can enjoy those moments even if you know it all has to end - can enjoy those moments even more because of it - and in general that would make the experience of SBURB a significantly more pleasant one. People would still have the Time to develop, to grow, to be themselves - and it would stop them from rushing through the session so blindingly fast that they beat the game before they can learn what they’re all meant to.

Which leaves the Page of Life! I’ll admit, this one came down to last man standing, but Rogue of Time fit so well that this is what we have left. A Page of Life means initial struggles, yes, but also a powerful player with a wealth of… well, just about everything. Money, ambition, growth, Life itself - at the end of the day, the Page of Life gets it all, and encourages the others around them to take part as well. It limits the harm the Sylph can really do, since a Page of Light struggles with temptations and, well, the Sylph might actually help with that! Reminding them of the importance of their bonds and ensuring their bonds with the rest of the group are strengthened will probably lead the Page to a slightly earlier development. Still late compared to everyone else, yes, but earlier than most Pages would see. This is the person of the group who clumsily hoards every item of value until they finally figure out what it’s all for, and then puts each one to perfect use. Plus, this goes again with the concept of breaking rules - so someone the Witch might get on well with, and someone who could reign them in! If nothing else, the Page might act as the moral example the Witch follows, seeing them progress from someone who bumbles through power and wealth as the underdog, bound to the rules but pretending that they’re free of them, before actually breaking through - breaking the rules, but without destroying them entirely. It would be good to balance the Witch out, I think, and prevent any catastrophic issues.

And after all of that, to answer your last question; nope! My classpect isn’t there at all. I’m a Page of Hope, which I did consider, but not in enough depth to really choose for the list. 

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, RICCI! You’ve been accepted for the role of MACBETH. Admin Rosey:  How is it possible that you had me laughing and crying in the same breath? You went from “... he’s a sad, kinda pathetic, almost self-sabotaging man who can’t enjoy the fruits of his own cruel ambition” to describing him as a Scottom (please read the app to figure out what that is). But you didn’t stop there, no, you added a whole layer to his backround that had me grinning from ear to ear. There is no other person I could possibly trust more to take up our beloved Mikael and do him justice. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character Alias | Ricci

Age | Nineteen

Preferred Pronouns | she/ her

Activity Level | I don’t think I can be active everyday — I’m a super slow writer and am busy with college, but don’t doubt my ability to dedicate myself to a good RP. I won’t be on often, but I promise to be consistent, and I strive for quality whenever I do have the time to write. Overall, I’d say 6-7 out of 10 depending on my workload!

Timezone | GMT+8

Current/Past RP Accounts | wariest.tumblr.com & disquieters.tumblr.com

In Character Character

♚ Macbeth

What drew you to this character?

♚ Stage actors HATE him. Whenever I write men, one of my favourite aspects of their character is their relationship with masculinity, and I think I have Macbeth to blame for that, or at least partially. I’ve loved his story ever since I read it at fourteen, — and the questions that come with Macbeth’s tragic development are some I carry with when I write male characters, namely: what happens to men when you tie their worth to their masculinity, and what happens when society has tied masculinity to cruelty, violence, and power? I see Mikael as someone that could have been good, because at his core he knows what is right, but because of his insecurities, and because and the environment he grew up in, he ignores his conscience in favor of attaining power. I love morally grey characters. Macbeth isn’t a mustache twirling villain that revels in his own crimes, he’s a sad, kinda pathetic, almost self-sabotaging man who can’t enjoy the fruits of his own cruel ambition. He’s someone who is very aware of his own atrociousness and feels bad about it, but despite his guilt, never once strives toward self-improvement, and while that doesn’t make him wholly redeemable, self-awareness without change is an ugliness that’s jarringly recognizable, an ugliness that I want to explore further. His actions are so monstrous, but his motivations are so incredibly human.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

♚ SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES:  I want Mikael’s development to follow Macbeth’s and take him from mildness and reluctance to full-on ruthless ambition. I think part of the reason why Mikael has remained a soldier is because he has yet to prove he’s capable of real cruelty — his businesses make a lot of profit, but making money hasn’t quite tested his loyalty and how far he’s actually willing to go for the Capulets ( or for his own ambition ), and thus his morals have yet to be challenged. But his capacity for monstrosity is as immense as his capacity for greatness, and with unchecked ambition, he might abandon his conscience and soon become a more threatening player in the games. If an unhinged Macbeth can slaughter a man’s entire family, so can Mikael.

I think for now he’ll want to finally start doing more for the mob because with Alvise’s death, tensions are rising and soldiers like Mikael are expendable. Paranoia will drive him to want protection, for which Mikael will do horrifying acts to attain, and with every triumph, he’ll learn care less about loyalty and more about his own power and individual potential.

Mikael absolutely despises himself, and ambition he sets out to achieve exists because he thinks accomplishing goals would make him hate himself less. Except as his actions stain his conscience, the opposite happens, and with the extreme amounts of self-loathing he’ll soon possess, his mental health will deteriorate, making him increasingly erratic and unstable.

♚ SOUND AND FURY, SIGNIFYING NOTHING: Macbeth is a paradox — his constant attempts at chasing fulfillment only serve to make him feel emptier. In the same way, Mikael exists in a default state of hunger, so unused to being satisfied that he always finds something else to chase after once he attains what he originally wanted. Nothing he does can assuage the feeling of emptiness. After committing more and more atrocities he may come to the realization that he’s the problem — that perhaps nothing will ever make him happy. Once he gets everything he wants, I think he’ll resign to nihilism and come to terms with the meaninglessness of existence.

♚ THE INNOCENT FLOWER:  I want to see someone act as a sort of morality pet. Whether actively or by just being themselves, this character will remind Mikael of the existing good in him, and he will want to change for them. Of course, change, for Mikael, will be short-lived, because in the cutthroat world of mobster Verona, people might place less value on morality, and ultimately Mikael will keep choosing uglier paths to further his own ambitions. ♚ THE SERPENT UNDER’T: In the original text, Macbeth’s nihilistic outlook is finally revealed after Lady Macbeth dies, so perhaps, in this universe, Mikael truly sees no meaning in anything— except his wife. Though he won’t admit it, and maybe he doesn’t realize it, but he’s wholly dependent on her “love” to feel like life has value. Lucrezia is another one of Mikael’s attempts at chasing fulfillment; he thinks he’ll stop hating himself if he can get someone so unattainable to love him, which it why it maddens him that she doesn’t. He wants her with all the desperation of Arctic Monkeys song, but none of the dignity. He pours all of his devotion to her in hopes that he might get something in return, and though part of him understands that all his efforts are pathetic and fruitless, his desire for Lucrezia’s love and approval transcends all reason. Mikael constantly shaping himself into a man Lucrezia might like, or the man Lucrezia wants him to be.

At the same time, wanting Lucrezia is a testament to Mikael’s own masochism. Mikael is never satisfied, so in a twisted way, having someone who never gives in to what he wants is perfect for him, and it’s possibly why they’ve lasted so long. It’s apparent that he’s not enough for her, but he’ll never stop trying to be.

Their relationship is just so unhealthy and damaging on his end, and it’s mostly Mikael’s own  fault for putting her on a pedestal and placing so many expectations on her that he at least partially knows she’ll never fulfill. All I really want to explore is what lengths he’s willing to go to get her to stay, especially now that there’s a deeper wedge and newfound tensions between them with Lucrezia having been promoted to emissary. There are so many directions for their dysfunctional marriage to go and I’m willing to explore all the possibilities. He’s already ruined, but keep ruining him!

♚ MY BLACK AND DEEP DESIRES: The old-fashioned monogamist fool he is, Mikael has never considered cheating on his wife. Except things have changed now, and for as much as he denies it, his marriage is failing. He’s empty, and when he comes to terms with the fact that his wife may never really love him, he’ll find some other way to assuage his deep loneliness, stray to the path of infidelity and disrupt the dynamic the Falcos have, for years, maintained.

♚ THE WAY TO DUSTY DEATH ( trigger warnings: drug abuse ): Mikael’s fall is inevitable. It’s less question of if and more a question of how. Being as overworked as he is, and as desperate for fulfillment, and with his future actions potentially damaging his pysche,  Mikael is extremely susceptible to drug addiction. At the moment, he still carries much self-control, but in the future with his increasing nihilism and self-hatred he might just crumble — more so if someone finds that weakness and exploits it.

♚ BE BLOODY, BOLD, AND RESOLUTE: Being the absolute masochist he is, as a teenager and young adult, Mikael would frequent Measure for Measure for a taste of thrill and triumph. He frequents it less now that he’s older and married and working full time, but part of him still craves being in the ring. With all that stress and anger, who can blame him?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

♚ None of woman born shall harm Macbeth. ( Just kidding, yes, but it would be preferable to have someone born of C-section kill him just because it would be so FUNNY. )

In Depth

( trigger warnings: violence )

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Mikael knit his brows together. “What the hell is this for? Buzzfeed” Dark rings hung around tired eyes, which locked their gaze onto the journalist, betraying both exhaustion and annoyance. “When you told me this was for an article, I didn’t realize you were writing Top Ten Travel Destinations For the Overworked Italian,” he snapped, voice high and honeyed with derision. “Okay, edit that out. Try to make sure I don’t sound like a goddamn elementary student. I know I’m not Winston Churchill, but I can pay you good money to make me sound like I am. You’re a writer, you can do that, right?” A sigh escaped him. Mikael rested his elbows on the surface of his desk and hung his head low, thumbs massaging his temples. “I need coffee.”

What does your typical day look like?

“I get up,” he said, ripping open a sachet of Nescafe. “I jack myself stupid.” A surge of self-hatred shot through him as he poured hot water into the lid of his thermos. No sensible Italian would continue to respect Mikael if they discovered his liking to instant coffee, but single-handedly running a corporation left Mikael very little time for himself, much less time to brew himself his own cappuccino. Thus, begrudgingly, he took the sachet and dumped its content straight into the cup, but not before catching his own slip of tongue.

Mikael ran his hands through his hair, frustration simmering within. He sighed to himself. “Sorry, that was just the first thing that came into my head. I don’t know how to be alive before ten in the morning.” Dark eyes fell to the paperwork before him, and Mikael sighed, already resentful at the amount of work that needed to be done. Mikael set the thermos lid aside, barely noticing how it lay almost perilously close to the edge of his desk. “I go to the office, make some calls, keep track of the progress of my transactions, check Cawdor Industries’ stock market value, read some articles about bitcoin to try and understand what the in God’s name a blockchain is, make some more transactions, go home, jack myself stupid because satisfying primal human instincts is the only shriveled flower of joy remaining in life  — don’t put that in the article — and then I tell my wife I love her, and wait for her to not say it back.” For a second, his eyes gleamed with a silent sort of wistfulness, but as he locked his gaze onto the journalist’s, their usual deadness returned. “It’s our thing.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

“Allowing myself to get ejected from the womb,” he deadpanned. “Everything’s gone a little downhill from there.”

Mistakes? Every day was a constant cycle of second-guessing and self-doubt. He’d couldn’t make a single decision without hindsight telling him he could have chosen a better path. Vacant eyes glanced over to the side of his desk, where Lucrezia’s photo sat, and Mikael’s heart rose to his throat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I got to go to college. I made a name for myself. The business is booming, and I’m married. I have a wife, yes, she’s a real person, and yes, maybe it’s hard to believe but a human female woman took a look at me and agreed to live with my pathetic ass, and according to the law and what she said at the altar, she’s supposed to be in love with me. Sort of. So that’s going great. I’m grateful. I just don’t think I’m…” Happy.

Misfortune gripped the moment within a split second — as Mikael leaned over to reach for the photograph, his elbow struck the metal thermos and knocked it over, scalding water spilling from its mouth.  “SON OF A BITCH — ” Mikael rose from his seat, sending the swivel chair sliding outward, and as fury overtook him, his leg swung forward to kick the side of his desk, but as his foot collided with wood, the thermos lid toppled from the surface and spilt Mikael’s instant coffee onto his velvet office chair.

Almost all at once, his feature cycled through every existing expression, every existing emotion. Grief. Frustration. Resignation. Mikael palmed his forehead. “I’ll send you an email when my shit brain finds a better answer.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

It was possible to believe that Mikael was as honest as he was crass. But his apparent tactlessness drew one’s attention away from much realer vulgarities: the truths Mikael kept within. Kneeling before his office chair, he took a wet rag and scrubbed at the stubborn coffee stain. Not meeting the journalist’s gaze, he mumbled, “Hell if I know.”

Everything was difficult. If anything worthwhile came easy, nothing would feel rewarding. The Falcos had clawed their way into the top, not resting for even a single second. And Cawdor Industries was born of their strife and struggle, but Mikael didn’t feel right merely inheriting it. No path felt valid if it hadn’t come with hardship; he moved mountains to turn the business what it was today. His parents gave him a kingdom. Mikael built an empire.

Except it had been thirty years and Mikael had yet to know what rewarding should have felt like. Every accomplishment only lent him a fleeting sense of triumph, and the satisfaction was quick to dissipate. What remained, instead, was poison. Cawdor Industries didn’t just design weapons — it sold them, less often legitimately than not, and most of the time, Mikael had turned a blind eye on all the casualties his business caused. Until he couldn’t.

Once, he could not recall how long ago, an anonymous sender delivered a video into Mikael’s inbox. It was apparent at first sight that it came from a protester, one that didn’t agree with Mikael’s line of work. At times, Mikael wished he had stopped himself from going further once that realization had been made, but curiosity was a hunger that begged to be sated.

“The most difficult task?” Mikael laughed, low and derisive. The video remained in his mind — the broken bodies of his weapons’ victims, lives destroyed for the business Mikael had worked to hard to build. He flung the rag, and it slammed hard against his desk. “Getting rid of this stain.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Mikael was a soldier. Just a soldier. That meant even for all the profit he produced the Capulet family, he was not entitled to their protection, nor could he rely on it. If Mikael had a choice, he would leave them be.

But there were stronger forces at bay. Was it unreasonable to question an outsider’s motives when Mikael himself was being interrogated and probed? If it were, it hardly mattered. Distrust was his birthright. The Falcos found wealth, but they never lost the beggars’ nature. What they passed down to their son was more than riches; Mikael inherited his mother’s relentless hunger, and his father’s habit of sleeping with one eye open.

Mikael leaned forward, dark gaze locking into the journalist’s, eyes leering with quiet hostility. “That’s none of your business,” he said, low and furious. “Get out of my fucking office.”

In character para sample:

Lights illuminated the waters, the gold of the street gleaming bright against the black of the river Danube. Perhaps, once, Mikael would have said Budapest at night was the captivating sight he’d ever witnessed, but that was before he met Lucrezia. Mikael hardly believed in magic, but in this moment, he thought it perhaps it existed, and it was this moment, an undeserving man standing by a river under the stars, blessed enough to witness the best of God’s creations. It was a type of awe that nearly brought him down on his knees. He knelt, one hand scrounging his pocket for the ultimate sign of his devotion, the promise of surrender. “Lucrezia.” The softness with which he spoke her name betrayed how unworthy he felt of it, like he doubted it could ever belong to him. “I’m not good with words. I’m not good with a lot of things, and sometimes that makes me scared to try anything new.” His heart skittered against his ribs. You’re rambling. Stop wasting her time.  “And I don’t know if I’ll be good at this, at,” the words his lips wished to form felt so foreign to his tongue. “At loving you.” Mikael took Lucrezia’s hand and pressed it gently between a palm and closed fist. Every selfish ache surged through his body. Guilt followed, for the hunger of his heart could barely be restrained, and nothing of him was worthy of this, nothing of him deserved the light Lucrezia radiated. “But for the first time, I don’t think I’m scared to try. I want —” Mikael paused. What did it matter what he wanted? What right did he have to ask anything of her? “I want to be good to you. Please,” Mikael’s voice remained soft, slow, but all deep longing and desperation was evident in the way his words cracked through his throat. He unfolded his palm, and the ring resting on it caught the light of the moon. “Let me be good to you.”

Eyes fluttered open. His phone buzzed against the bedside table, and the jarring sound of its vibrations sent a wave of annoyance surging through Mikael’s skin. As the real world reformed around him, the dream-memory shattered, leaving a bittersweet taste in its wake.

Nothing much had changed. Same life, same woman, same relentless emptiness. Legs slid off the bed, and Mikael sat upright, palms on either side of him. With one slow, lethargic motion, his hand reached for the buzzing phone on his bedside table, the faint glow of its screen bright against his tired, barely woken eyes. His face contorted into a scowl upon reading his alarm label: WAKE UP YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT. Mikael groaned. He shut it off, slammed the thing lightly against the table, but as he turned away, his eyes caught sight of his wife’s sleeping figure. He looked at her, and his anger quieted.

The sheets had shifted when he woke himself, so Mikael pulled them over her body, willfully gentle as not to wake her. “I love you,” he said under his breath, and a certain sort of sadness consumed him. His heart rose to his throat. It ached with a stupid, childish fantasy: that if he said and breathed and lived those three words enough, he would one day deserve to hear them returned.  

Mikael did not blame Lucrezia for not wanting him. How could she? When he looked at the mirror, there was no part of himself that he did not despise. Men like him and the monster blood they carried — they were hard to love, hardly worthy of love. This was the routine he deserved: to every day pray that their hearts’ hunger be sated, to every day have their prayers met with suffocating silence.

If emotions governed people, what a tyrant love must have been.

Extras:

♚ Mock Blog: regicidios.tumblr.com

♚ Cawdor Industries is a mix of several businesses, namely transportation, construction, and weapons manufacturing, which are all a legitimate front for Mikael’s Dirty Mobster businesses: smuggling, money laundering, and arms trafficking. Like the capitalist pigs they are, they’re primarily concerned with making money and use their close connections with the Capulets for networking and intimidation purposes.

♚ I read a lot on Riz Ahmed before writing this app, and out of love for him I just want to respect his background as a second-generation immigrant and write Mikael as a second generation immigrant as well. Falco isn’t a Pakistani surname, so I headcanon that his parents had their blatantly Muslim Pakistani surname changed in order to be recognized with more legitimacy in the Italian business ( and mobster ) world. Isn’t their background a little like the immigrant narrative anyway? People who came from nothing build themselves a better future with nothing but unbridled ambition and determination to forge a better life for their children. And of course, they’re typical Parents Of Colour, who constantly remind their child of how much they’d sacrificed as a way of saying: you owe us. That, and the generational gap between them, with Mikael no longer being familiar with Pakistani customs and traditions as a result of growing up in Diverse-But-Decidedly-Not-South-Asian Verona, drive a wedge between Mikael and his parents, and them not fully connecting is one of the many contributing factors to Mikael’s decision to send them away.

♚ This is me rambling but maybe a crass, clinically-depressed, overworked, caffeine-addicted hopeless ‘romantic’ nihilist-in-the-making is a little far off from how you originally envisioned Mikael but I’m going to stand by my portrayal because I firmly believe that the Thane of Cawdor Who Shall be King Hereafter is whatever the hell the polar opposite of Big Dick Energy is and m a n  he’s literature’s finest and funniest example of just how AWFUL toxic masculinity can get… I mean there’s an actual scene where Lady M tells her MacBitch he sucks at sex and then Macbeth proceeds to go on a murder-regicide rampage for four whole acts to redeem his manhood,  do you think someone that insecure will ever have the cool, self-assured swagger of ( the disgustingand horrible ) Michael Fassbender of Macbeth 2015 dir Justin Kurzel? No! Riz Ahmed is the love of my life but all his resources have him look like he’s either paranoid or dead inside or both, which is perfect, because that’s just quintessential Macbeth, everyone’s favourite Scottom ( Scottish Bottom ).

♚ That all aside, he’s an irredeemable bastard and I love him, please take us both.

[lunaraen]

Gifts

To say that it’s been an interesting year would be overwhelmingly understating things.

Maybe not as much as just saying they’ve been busy, but still.

There’s always a good side, and while Jesse’s more than happy to see something good come their way and see that something good as the number of presents they’re all opening, he also appreciates the new company in the Order Hall.

Jack and Nurm are bound to make anything interesting, sometimes simply by being around, but Jesse’s not complaining.

Apparently, thanks to the colder weather and how warm it can get in the shop when Jack makes armor and weapons, the ‘parrot problem’ (Jack clarified that those were Nurm’s words, not Jack’s) gets considerably worse in the winter, so they didn’t want to make the Order visit them when they have enough issues in-shop.

For some odd reason they both seem to think they can’t just crash at the Order hall, that they’ll be making a trek back to their shop later when it’s even colder and darker, despite knowing how many open rooms they have and how icy it is outside.

Petra might think that way for herself, which is frustrating and saddening on its own, but Jesse knows she’s been just as open to inviting Nurm and Jack to stay, so it doesn’t add up. Especially given how she and Jesse aren’t the only one, every other Order member, Ivor, and even Gabriel and Magnus, who are visiting, making the same very much clear on multiple occasions.

They should know they’re plenty welcome by now.

Occasionally, though, guests who don't know they're welcome or not, someone’s bound to get the interesting wrapping of a box inside a box.

This gift goes a bit behind that, and Jesse’s fairly sure it’s mostly because of Jack, who’s already beaming at him.

“Huh. A wrapped box in a shulker box in a chest.” To top it all off, the chest has a bow of its own on it, large and red and still on top because Jesse can’t bring himself to remove it. “You never do anything by halves, do you?”

Jack grins from his seat by the fire, looking oddly cozy in the fuzzy sword and snow themed sweater Axel gave him at the start of the whole gift giving process.

“The gift that keeps on giving.” Nurm, wearing a red nightcap gifted to him by Olivia, hums in agreement before saying something, Jesse picking up on more than he would have months ago when he wasn’t brushing up on his language skills, and Jack’s grin only gets wider as he motions for Jesse to unwrap the likewise still bowed and wrapped box.  "Keep going, you haven’t even gotten to the real thing yet.“

“Yeah kid, don’t keep us waiting any longer.” Magnus grins from where he’s sitting on the couch, between Gabriel and Olivia and wearing a skewed woolen hat of his own, and Jesse can’t help but admit he’s got a point.

Curiosity isn’t always a good thing to entertain too long with griefers; it just makes them creative.

And Jesse, who’s been told he’s patient to a fault with the serious matters and plenty impatient with the pettiest of things, rips into the paper, opening the box before all of the wrap’s even been torn off.

It takes conscious effort, not to drop the box entirely when he sees what’s inside.

"Is this…?”

“Yup.” Petra grins from where she’s sitting between Jack and Axel, crossing her legs as she leans back against the wall, toll tipping slightly as she does. “You’re welcome.”

“When did you guys get an elytra?” It’s a bit of a stupid question, given there’s only one place to get actual ones instead of cheap knock offs and that everyone else’s gifts have been wholly end-themed, but Jesse’s common sense might just be a little preoccupied with the fact that he’s holding an elytra in his hands. Besides, all three of them are way too good at haggling, and being able to go to other worlds might make getting stuff like this easier, even if it doesn’t make it any less special.

It feels silky and hard and lightweight as he lifts it out of the box and runs his fingers along the edges, soft and firm but giving in a way few materials ever should or could be, and while Jesse doubts he can get as excited over this as Lukas did about the end rods and end stone bricks, he’s tempted to at least try.

“Where do you think?”

Axel’s the one who asks the question, and while it’s not a gift from him, he has a point that the three grins Jesse’s getting seem to reinforce.

“I have no idea how I can thank you guys enough for this.”

The three of them exchange a look that’s probably best described as exasperated.

“You’ve done enough already, Jesse. Just try to enjoy it.” It might be a sign of its own that Jesse’s not sure if Petra means the gifts he made them himself, from uneven and too long but creative scarves and knickknacks, or the stuff they’ve gotten through together as a team.

It’s hard for Jesse to set the elytra down, gently and carefully though he does as he places it back in the box that he rests beside the shulker shell that’s easily a gift in its own, but he does just in time to look back up and see Olivia nudge Radar forward, Radar gripping a large but unwrapped book as he hops down from his stool.

“And I don’t know how I’m going to compete with that, but I hope you like it.” Jesse has the book thrust in his hands almost as soon as Radar’s close enough to do it, and Jesse’s already smiling as he glances down at the book and the number of names scrawled on the cover.

“I’m sure it’ll be great, Radar.” Jesse glances up, looking around the room at the others. “How many of you guys worked on this?”

“It was something of a team effort.” Ivor pauses to take a sip of his hot chocolate, looking cozy in his chair as he smiles at both of them. There’s a look in his eye that tells Jesse this is going to be interesting even while Jesse still doesn’t fully know what it is. “However, Radar wanted to be the one to present it.”

Radar stays standing as Jesse turns his attention back to the book, smiling again at the names before he opens it and nearly drops the book.

It’s a photo album.

They have a few already, including one made up of pictures of the old Order they managed to scrounge together, but the more the merrier.

It already seems like an awesome gift, with Jesse recognizing a number of the photos on the first page as fairly recent, with the following pages getting older and older.

All the way until a few pages in when they get really old and it feels like he’s been socked in the gut. In the good way, if that’s even possible.

It’s just pages and pages of him and Reuben.

Jesse knows where each and every moment came from too, recognizing the photographs as ones Olivia took. Back before the Witherstorm, even back before they were worried about that year’s Endercon, or even a number of the ones before that, Olivia liked messing around and experimenting with taking photos of them all while they were busy or having fun or even just doing nothing.

Her photos make up a good chunk of their current albums even now, but it’s so cool to

There are pictures of Reuben curled up at Jesse’s feet, sleeping in his lap, resting beside him while they both nap in the sun, a picture of an unsuccessful attempt at giving Reuben a bath after the rain had made the forest too muddy for anybody’s good.

There’s even a picture of the time Reuben helped him in a snowball fight against Axel, the back of Jesse’s snow covered head fairly blurry but the snowball that he had thrown and that had smacked Axel upside the head in about as clear image as possible. Really, it’s second only to Axel being caught trying and failing to dodge it and Reuben behind him, tripping him up enough and looking extremely pleased with himself for it.

And Jesse has to look up because the last thing they need is someone crying on the pictures.

“How did you make this?”

Radar rubs the back of his neck, swallowing as he gives a shaky smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I just asked everybody if they’d be okay with giving me a few photos, so I put them in a book I got from the market in my free time, and it turns out there were some left in the tree house that nobody had moved yet, so then we all just…” Radar trails off, fingers tugging and twisting at the odd but cute tree themed tie he has on and pausing only to adjust his glasses, as he looks up at Jesse. “Jesse…? I… is it okay? You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.”

Jesse’s eyes are burning and that’s okay, because he has the best friends he could ever ask for.

“It’s perfect.”

There is a lot of hugging.

And there’s definitely some crying, but they’ve been through so much that Jesse certainly won’t hold any of it back when he’s happy. They could all use a little more happiness like this.

[lunaraen]

Not particularly shippy but Axel and anyone else you want with "I know the neighborhood by heart, which also means I know exactly which houses give out the King Size bars" for the Halloween prompts please? ily

If candy isn’t enough of a draw,and it certainly always is, then spooky atmosphere has to take the cake on anight like tonight.

Dark grey clouds, bulky and wispyat all ends, curl around the moon, its bright light the only thing making itthrough the inky and fluffy blanket. Maybe no moon would be just as creepy, butsomehow a full one manages to do just as well, the occasional howls from peoplegetting into the act, not to mention what sounds like real wolves that everyonehopes are just people who are really good at it, adding to it.

There’s giggling and laughterfrom each and every house as people go to and from each one, the occasionalscream followed by an even sharper shriek of laughter.

Crisp leaves, coating the groundin a layer of brown and red, the occasional yellows and oranges bobbing up inthe crunchy sea, twirl whatever way they please as the breeze ebbs and flows,skirting and sliding across the streets and into the thick of the bare andsnarled bushes.

It’s the kind of night that makesgetting into the spirit of things all the easier, especially with some of themore enthusiastic displays and decorations.

Jesse’s pretty sure he can stillsee the occasional tame bat hanging around in the background or swooping downto get some bugs, and while it’s not as bad as running into them unexpected insome cave, he half expects one to swoop down at him, despite the fact that hevery well knows they’re far more interested in fruits and bugs than whateverhe, or Reuben, or anybody else he cares about, has to offer.

The springy, so exaggerated it’salmost goofy in hindsight, bat on a stick from earlier that Jesse reallyshould’ve expected when they were leaving his tree house was admittedlycreepier, though, if only because Axel actually managed to get it to land inJesse’s hair before he knew what was going on.

The only thing he ruined waswhatever dignity Jesse had, screaming loud and high enough to get Axel to laughhard and just as loud for a solid minute, but looking back on it, Jesse’s justhappy he didn’t end up smearing any of his makeup. Zombie flesh is freaky, butgetting the right shade of pale green without scratching any of it off was apain, and it’s only by a miracle that he hasn’t itched his nose yet.

That doesn’t mean Axel’s off thehook, though. He doesn’t get any bonus points for not pranking Reuben too, nomatter how nice it was of Axel to make him a costume.

(Jesse’s totally stealing all hiscandy later, but it’s okay because that’s what friends do.

Axel’s usually pretty protectiveof his stash, and that doesn’t bode well for would-be thieves with his equalsized stash of pranks and explosive. It would be a bit more daunting, though,if Jesse didn’t know Olivia’ll have his back.

After all, Axel got her earliertoday with the gummy worms he snuck into her sandwich. Yeah, it was funny, butJesse’s not dumb, and he’ll take the help he can get.

Olivia won’t need much convincingafter that.)

Jesse stops just before he canbump into Axel or the ridiculously shaggy looking costume he has on, tensingfor a brief second before it becomes clear there isn’t going to be any sort ofcollision as Reuben and Olivia stop just in time, and he raises an eyebrow ashe looks up at Axel before trying to look past him, finding nothing in theirway.

“What’s wrong?”

The concern, however, doesn’t goaway as Axel turns, grinning down at them as he jabs his thumb, and the sharpblack claw attached to it, in the direction of a street that’s parallel to theroad they’re walking down.

Jesse knows that grin.

“I know the neighborhood byheart, which also means I know exactly which houses give out the King Sizebars. We’re gonna want to hit those first before they run out.” He’s got apoint. Axel pays more attention to these things more than either of them do, andhe’s never missed a chance to get free candy, unlike the times Jesse and Oliviahave for inventions and other projects.

And if that doesn’t change thingsjust a bit.

Olivia and Jesse share a glancebefore they both give a small nod.

Well, fair’s fair.

He gets to keep his candy andpick from it until they get home.

“Which makes you the personwith the most valuable information.” Jesse crosses his arms, careful tolet the tattered fabric of his sleeves be the only thing touching, sparing theitchy makeup from smearing. “Alright, which way?”

“That way.”

Some people go all out, and otherpeople live and breathe the idea of spooky. This house belongs to the latter,cobwebs thick and heavy as they stretch from dead, twisted limb to crookedjagged one, the tree looking so dead it might actually have looped right backto being alive. The long line of jack-o’-lanterns and dim redstone torchesilluminating the little gravel path to the door, carved faces more and moregrotesque and exaggerated the closer to the house they are and the torchessomehow even dimmer, don’t hurt.

All it’s missing is eerily timed,inexplicable thunder and lightning, and Jesse knows his look’s just as flat asOlivia and Reuben’s are as they all turn to look back at Axel.

“Axel, if this is anotherprank…” It’s a bit harder for Olivia to speak with the large plasticfangs in her mouth, but the words come across clear enough.

There’s an eye roll as they allstep aside, letting another, larger, just as colorfully dressed group pass bythem, these ones heading to the more… eccentrichouses as another person further down the road shrieks and giggles.

“Look, it’s not my fault thepeople with the best candy have the best decorations. Besides, this is candy.You know I’d never joke about that.”

Of course, he jokes about candyjust as much as he does everything else and maybe sometimes more, but he has apoint. If it turns out to be a pointless heart attack, they’ll steal his candynow and bolt to get whatever’s left in the regular stash they both know hestill has back at his place, and with how much he’s been pushing his lucktoday, Axel knows it too.

“But y'know, if you guys aretoo scared to check it out and get the good stuff, we can always go to one ofthe dinkier houses and get something dumb like floss instead.”

“We could all use flossafter tonight.” Olivia grins, showing off the bright fangs again and tonemaking it clear she’s just trying to needle him, getting a groan out of Axel inthe process that makes it clear she’s succeeding.

“Yeah, yeah, but we’ve allgot enough of that. We don’t need to miss out on candy for something we alreadygot.”

And he’s got a point there too,and they are just decorations, so the next thing Jesse knows, they’re walkingdown the path and trying not to accidentally knock down any of the torches orpumpkins, harder to see than expected while the lights gradually get dimmer, asthey do.

The door is just as dramatic, thegold knocker managing to fit in well with the smooth grooves in the dark oak.

Jesse and the others don’t tendto go into the neighborhoods when they come into town, just because there’s nopoint, but he can’t imagine how much redecorating whoever lives here had to doto transform the house into something so wholly haunting and eerie.

Not as much as they did to do thesame to themselves, it turns out as a tall, looming figure answers the door.

There’s something deeplyunsettling about the way the fangs, sharp and curved, glint in the low redlight as they grin, and knowing that that’s absolutely the point doesn’t domuch to settle the unease swirling and bubbling up in Jesse’s stomach. It looksa lot more convincing than Olivia’s costume, and he knows she’s managed to pulloff the cape and fangs pretty well.

“And what can I do for you?” Thelow voice is just as impressive, smooth and somehow dark while also beingincredibly friendly for somebody dressed up as a vampire. A happy vampire, definitely,but a vampire nonetheless.

It takes way too long for Jesseto get his throat to work, and it just makes the words rush out all the fasteras he tries to ignore Axel’s snickering.

“Trick or treat?”

And the grin gets wider, not somuch twisted as large and puzzlingly unarming, as they lift up a large, pumpkinshaped bowl of candy from where it had been sitting inside beside the doorway.

“Here you go.”

It’s even harder for Jesse tokeep his eyes from bugging out of his head than it is from him to keep hisgoosebumps from leaping off his skin, what with the amount of giant sizedcandies they’re all given, Reuben himself getting a bundle of carrots placed inthe small pail he’s carrying in his mouth.

Axel wasn’t kidding.

If it’s not about the extremelyconvincing costumes and fun decorations, then it’s definitely all about thecandy, and they all say their thank you’s as they make their way down the windylittle patch and back onto the road.

Jesse only manages to tear hiseyes off the enormous bars of candy as they end up back on the cobble street.

“Hey, Axel?” Jesse onlygets a hum in response as he glances over his shoulder, looking back at thehouse for what he tells himself is just one last time. “Do they always dothat?”

It’s a moment before Axelfinishes chewing whatever kind of candy bar he decided to start with, raisingan eyebrow as he follows Jesse’s gaze.

“The costume? Yeah, I thinkso. They’re really good at it and it’s not like the parts aren’t reusable everyyear, so there’s not much of a reason to change it up.” He shrugs, and itdoesn’t slip by Jesse the way Axel and Olivia share a look this time, evenReuben slowing down as he glances up at Jesse. “Why?”

“No reason.”

And if Jesse starts walking alittle faster to the next house, focusing a bit too much on the bright andflashy decorations ahead instead of the bat he swears he can see out of thecorner of his eye, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Some people really like gettinginto the swing of things.