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Found family event masterpost

Thank you for all your submissions! Below the cut is the list of Torchwood fic recs focused on found family, as submitted by you, our followers!

we built a family (home) by myre ( JackIanto | Complete | 17844 | M )

When Jack gets back, things are different—he’s different—and he’s not sure where he fits anymore, but he should’ve known that there was a place reserved just for him.

Ianto Jones' thoughts on Life, Death, and Summer Squashes by Arnica ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 17762 | T )

The first thing he remembers afterward (and the rest of his life will always before and after Thames House now) is waking up to the sound of hospital machinery droning away, Gwen's head heavy on his legs as she drools on him with Rhys snoring away in the chair next to her, his hand spread wide across her back, head tipped back as he sleeps. Then there's Jack, sitting sideways in the window with his gun drawn and resting in his lap as he does something with the wrist straps in his hands.

Two of Us Are Hung From the Same Twisted Rope by ShastaFirecracker ( JackIanto, ToshOwen | Complete | 15799 | T )

An accident with some sort of brain-scanning alien device leaves Owen and Ianto sharing Ianto's body. Hijinks and nightmares ensue.

Does Africa Know a Song of Me? by etmuse ( JackIanto, MarthaTom, GwenRhys | Complete | 17618 | T )

Jack gets a call from UNIT. They need his help in Namibia. And when they arrive, Jack and Ianto (because Jack wouldn't leave him behind) discover the only communication they have with the team is letters.

Torchwood One Archive by james ( JackIanto | Complete | 11346 | M )

AU after season one. Jack has returned to Torchwood and to Ianto. Ianto is determined to make the best of it but he knows it won't last forever. Their time together threatens to get even shorter when the Doctor shows up unexpectedly.

In Bits and Pieces by reiley ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 83306 | M )

Sort of a fill-in-the-blanks story throughout the entire series: How they pull the pieces together after the world shatters, focusing mainly on Jack and Ianto, but all the others are there, too. Takes place between 'Exit Wounds' and 'The Stolen Earth', goes through all of series 1 and 2, and far back into the past.

Lost and Found by Kaneko ( JackIanto | Complete | 3642 | E )

Straddled over the rift, the Hub was a place where things were lost and found. Strange objects washed in like driftwood. Things went missing. There was never any sign of where they'd gone.

Personnel Issues by PinkFairy727 ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 41434 | T )

The Torchwood Three email newsletter: an excuse to gossip, bitch, plan dates, fight, and discuss squirrel rats. Co-authored with sparking_off.

Warnings: canon character death and swearing.

Just this once by Beleriandings ( JackIanto, ToshOwen, GwenRhys, LoisEsther | Complete | 239639 | T )

(Everybody lives.) (Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

Club Wales by pocky_slash ( Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 19898 | T )

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

Hell or High Water by aliciajazmin ( GwenJohnTosh | Complete | 3102 | T )

Toshiko, Gwen, and John have been married for a year now, beginning a life of adventure and crime (but only against those who deserve it). A mission going wrong results in the discovery of an orphan.

The three of them and the orphan must then decide what they want for their future.

A E I O Moo, I love Y O U by aliciajazmin ( GwenJackIantoRhys, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 627 | G )

Jack finds a new song to introduce to Anwen.

AKA Roses are red, violets are blue, Jack likes to sing: A E I O Moo.

Never Has He Ever by Jackdaw816 (JohnAndy | Complete | 1666 | T )

Hub lockdowns are great for juvenile drinking games and revelations of the self

Coping by innocent-until-proven-geeky (JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | Complete | 910 | G )

After the events of Exit Wounds, Jack, Ianto, and Gwen are exhausted.

Hug by innocent-until-proven-geeky ( Gwen&Ianto | Complete | 401 | G )

Not-wanting-to-let-go hugs.

March 31st in the Torchwood Family Household by innocent-until-proven-geeky ( JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenJackIantoRhys | Complete | 117 | G )

Happy Trans Day of Visibility! Please enjoy this little ficlet of trans Torchwood polycule. In my headcanon, Ianto is a binary trans man using he/him pronouns, Jack is genderfluid using he/him pronouns, and Gwen is nonbinary using they/them pronouns with Torchwood and she/her pronouns in public.

Here For You (a friend's night out) by BookWerm ( Ianto&Tosh | Complete | 354 | T )

An answer to the prompt : “I’m their best friend” with Ianto and Gwen or Ianto and Tosh

The Lonely Cheryth by BookWerm ( Alice&Jack, Steven&Jack, Others | Complete | 6581 | G )

Steven's Uncle Jack is a mystery. One that he's determined to solve.

A fic through quite a bit of Steven's life (yes, he lives through Children of earth) that was quite a bit of fun

A Moment (An Eternity) by Clare_Hope ( JackIanto, ToshOwen, GwenRhys | WIP | 10923 | T )

Owen slid underneath the closing door just in time to escape the room about to be flooded with radioactive coolant. Tosh didn't die of her wounds because with Owen there, she got medical attention before it was too late. The entire Torchwood team made it through that terrible day. Everything should be alright now. But Jack is really, really not alright.

Below 20° Celsius by Clare_Hope ( JackIanto, Team | Complete | 5182 | T )

20° Celsius is generally considered to be the lowest a human's body temperature can be before dying. This is bad news for Jack, who is a bit colder than that when he's pulled out of Cardiff Bay after drowning continually for a couple hours. The good news is that he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

Work Friends by Clare_Hope (Ianto&Tosh | WIP | 3431 | T )

After everything that happened with Mary, Ianto is the only one who doesn't seem uncomfortable around Toshiko. She can't read his mind anymore, but pretty sure she knows what he's thinking: We've both seen someone we thought loved us killed by Jack. I understand. I might be the only one who understands.

Of Motion in Perpetuity by Beleriandings ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 106708 | M )

When Gwen, Jack and Ianto investigate a cold case from end of the nineteenth century, they find themselves pulled back in time against their will, fighting to protect each other and to get home.

Conditional Iteration by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | WIP | 35431 | T )

Gwen can only watch, helpless and raging and grieving, as Jack and Ianto die in Thames House. The next moment though, she finds herself pulled out of time, back to the moment it all started to go wrong. Maybe second chances aren't in quite such short supply as she thought.

Coffee Break by firesnap ( Gwen&Ianto | Complete | 2069 | G )

Gwen and Ianto steal a few minutes to chat and make plans.

Another Rainy Day by SerenityJane ( Team | Complete | 3088 | T )

Tosh darted the occasional look at the closed door, curiousity warring with courtesy. So was Gwen, but she looked more like someone was dangling sweets in front of her nose and telling her she couldn’t have them. No prize for guessing who the candy was. Owen was watching the girls, and desperately trying not to think of pink elephants.

The Right Kind of Doctor by joonscribble ( Owen&Team | Complete | 2008 | R )

Three times Owen Harper was good at his job. Set between season 1 and 2.

Stargazing and Truth-Telling by earlybloomingparentheses ( JackIanto | Complete | 4632 | T )

A month after the events of "Exit Wounds," Jack Harkness heads off to an unknown galaxy on a mission for UNIT, and Ianto and Gwen are left behind to stare up at the stars and wonder when he's coming back. As a small act of rebellion against Jack's perpetual mysteriousness, they decide to play a game: they have to answer each other's questions with absolute honesty. There's a lot Ianto needs to get off his chest, his feelings about Jack Harkness not least, but the truth is tricky--it's never safe, and it's certainly never easy.

ghosts in my head by Sholio ( Team | Complete | 2637 | T )

Owen doesn't sleep, but he does dream. And the dreams he gets are mostly nightmares, because of course they are.

Facing Light in the Flow by engagemythrusters ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 3821 | T )

A slice of a life nobody had dreamt they would ever have.

The Door Wide Open by sherlockpond ( GwenRhys, JackIanto, ToshOwen | Complete | 5333 | G )

Torchwood incurs a tough life on its field operatives.  They deserve times where they feel like they need to be vulnerable in  front of each other. [6 times the team were emotionally honest with one another - set during various points of S1 and S2]

Flatpacked by Beleriandings ( Ianto&Rhys, JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 6946 | G )

Rhys has a day off, and decides to spend it peacefully looking at homeware in Ikea. He's not expecting to bump into one of his wife's coworkers there; much less, a shapeshifting alien that likes to eat batteries. But then again, that's Torchwood for you.

On saving the world, and what happens after by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto | Complete | 2447 | G )

After the events of Journey's End, Gwen and Ianto wait for Jack to come home.

Domestic Disharmony by thirteeninafez ( Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 3163 | G )

In which Jack and Gwen get stuck in the Archives and discuss green milk, thermostats and Ianto Jones.

After the events of Journey's End, Gwen and Ianto wait for Jack to come home.

Pastries, Avoidance Tactics, and a Bottle of Scotch by pocky_slash ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 6220 | G )

In which Gwen said something she regrets, Ianto makes a poor dinner choice, Rhys offers sound advice, and Jack has a key. A different sort of "Meat" post-ep.

Respite by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 2591 | G )

Even by their usual standards, Gwen thought it was absolutely fair to say it had been a rough week.

Blood on Steel by Sholio (Owen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack&Owen&Tosh&Ianto | Complete | 12257 | T)

An alien booby trap turns the Hub into a deathtrap. Lucky thing it doesn't react to someone with no vital signs. Now Owen is their only hope. More specifically, he's Ianto's only hope.

The Cartography of Feeling by Sholio (Owen&Ianto | Complete | 20846 | T)

"We're sodding gladiators," Owen said. "Fuck this entire day and Jack Harkness too."

(Or: Owen and Ianto are abducted by aliens and forced to arena-fight. But the worst part might be the control device that connects them in an emotion and pain-sharing bond.)

Haul Out the Holly by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 1069 | G)

Sometimes you need a little magic in your christmas

with a lil’ help from my friends by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenTosh | complete | 1307 | G)

Everyone needs a Hug sometimes, Torchwood Included

(Or, five times Jack thought about hugs and the one time he thought of nothing at all)

I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies by Violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Jack&Team | complete | 3749 | T)

In which Tosh makes a discovery and the team comes together to show Jack how much they love him.

Halfway Back by Sholio (Gwen&Jack&Owen&Ianto&Tosh | complete | 13953 | T)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

Team Means Pack by Sholio (Gwen&Jack&Owen&Ianto&Tosh | complete | 2615 | G)

Post-Countrycide in a universe with werewolves.

Stormwrack by Sholio (Gen | complete | 2111 | T)

The last time Owen was in the Brecon Beacons, Welsh cannibals tried to eat him. This time, it was pouring buckets on him, and he was dead. At least the latter might help with the cannibal problem, although given his luck, probably not. They might just consider him well-aged, like a side of bacon.

Sky’s the Limit by Blackkat (JackIanto, SuzieTosh, Ianto&Suzie | series | 6,694 | T)

Ianto and Suzie meet as strangers on a rooftop, and bond over aborted suicide attempts, failed plans, bastard fathers, and the fact that they're batting for both teams. Friendship is a beautiful thing.

Forever and What Comes After by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 10028 | T)

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time by paycheckgurl (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 3351 | T)

This wasn’t exactly how they planned their Christmas going, but they were going to make the best of it.

Remnants of a Forgotten Past by paycheckgurl (Gwen Cooper & Jack Harkness & Owen Harper & Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato | complete | 7523 | T)

Torchwood's latest case hits close to home for Tosh when it seems to center on Lodmoor Research Facility's Newest project...of a destructive off world variety.

Written for Torchwood MiniBang

Midlife Crisis by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 371 | T)

"You do realize," begins Owen one day during their usual lunch meeting, chopsticks dangling from his hand, "that technically, Javic is your mid-life crisis?"

Found you made us a star by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, OwenTosh, GwenRhys | complete | 6477 | T)

Millennia after having lost their team, Jack and Ianto set about reuniting with old friends and crafting a Torchwood for a new future.

The Bewitching Full Moon // Count

smh they’re never gonna release points-based event cards ever again are they guess I gotta make my own 5-min headers

This event is another one of those “His POV” events. I guess the reception on those has been very positive (which, good, bc I like them too) so they’re pushing them out more and more. They’ve also been pushing the envelope on these ooh lala so sexi ma gah stories with these scandalous avatars. yea sexy ok w/e but are they fashionable? idk abt that one chief... and according to the twitter surveys the community has been comparatively lukewarm too. I mean if they’re gonna make event avatars harder to get why are they getting uglier man

also holy crap the resulting doc for this thing got really long i hope tumblr doesn’t destroy me copypasta

edit: here comes me “slept on it” day after edit, fixed formatting issues and grammar errors that stuck out. if it made it even worse imma cry-

Spoilers under the cut! Please credit if you take any of it, thenk u (･ω･*) image-heavy!

Under the full moon, which shimmered with an ominous violet light - a single stagecoach wheeled through the city. (I wonder how many times it has been where I’ve left the manse like this with her.) I sneak a glance to my side, and gaze at Kara’s dress-clad form. (Dress, shoes, gloves, necklace, hair ornaments...) (I give you every single object, article to wear - and with that you are dyed in my color.) (I experienced that joy even before, but...) Now that we have become lovers, that joy is becoming more and more difficult to come by. (Whenever I look at you, there is this emotion - one that is difficult to put into words - that surges within me.) (Frankly, I try my best to simply suppress it.) (...Well, there is particularly something that is too much to entirely subdue.) I recall that sweet sensation of the very moment where I get to strip off the dress I give her– While deep in my thoughts, a smile cracks my features.

count: the joy from dressing her up is becoming rarer me: ? o whys that count: bc the horny supersedes it me: sir

[Kara]: “Count?” (Oops- if she learned of the things like the carnal passions I bear, she would surely grow disillusioned with me.) [Count]: “It’s nothing. You are just so stunning that a smile eased onto my face.” [Kara]: “D-Don’t play around, please…” As if to hide her face, she lightly puts her hands on her cheeks. She takes small breaths, apparently to temper her heart, before looking up again.

[Kara]: “Um… Tonight’s banquet is opening quite late, isn’t it?” The typical banquet opens its curtains at approximately sunset, where the usual routine is to have dinner together before taking pleasure in dancing and chitchat. However, the time now is already past 10. (Will this be your first time going to this type of evening gathering?) [Count]: “There are nobles who grow tired of the same old pattern of the typical party.” [Count]: “So occasionally, evening parties with fascinating themes appear.” [Kara]: “Fascinating themes’?” [Count]: “Costume parties, calling on an acrobat…” [Count]: “Which reminds me of this one gathering where all the lights of the mansion were to be off. It was quite the fascinating party, yes.” [Count]: “Well, now I’m wondering what tonight’s party will be like.” [Kara]: “Hehe, I’m looking forward to it.” (Whenever you so innocently accept the circumstances at hand like this– because it’s you, I get worried. But...)

With a hand I quietly turn her waist towards me, and bring my lips to her ear. [Count]: “I don’t mind if you enjoy yourself, but I would like if you could firmly avoid being careless.” [Count]: “As in these kinds of parties, the dangers lie hidden.” [Kara]: “What do you mean by ‘dangers’…?” She quietly stares at me, visibly failing to catch the meaning behind my words. [Count]: “In a space separated from everyday life, reason easily crumbles away.” [Count]: “And when instinct conquers reason, the floor changes into a hunting ground for love.” I smoothly stroke her back and hug her waist. [Kara]: “Coun-…“ [Count]: “I do not have even the slightest intention to present my adorable lover to such wolves.”

[Count]: “Because you only belong to me, after all.” [Kara]: “—Nn,” I wrap my arm around her body that had slightly jumped, and as if to engrave my touch I press my lips against hers. [Count]: “…So that you will absolutely not separate from me. Understood?” [Kara]: “…Under, stood…” [Count]: “—Good girl.” I narrow my eyes in satisfaction at her answer, and intertwine our hands against my knee.

(Back before we became lovers, I feel that I still had my wits about me.) (So it was quite unexpected of me to become brimming with emotion like this from simply spending time after time together.) (But, tonight… it has become more difficult than usual to tie down…) I shift my gaze to the window, and the moon that floats in the sky above radiates this violet. (—It couldn’t be… Well.)

When we step inside the noble’s mansion, a different world stretched before us. The saloon was colored a brilliant red, and several tables had been arranged in a line where aristocrats entertained themselves with card games and roulette.

[Count]: “So you’re surprised by the casino.” [Kara]: “Wow… I’ve seen Arthur and the others play these sort of games, but this is the first time I’ve ever set foot in a place like this.” [Kara]: “So there can even be things like casinos in the parties of nobles, huh?” [Count]: “In the beginning, gambling was an activity popular within the elite. So it has been as much as a long time for me too.”

“get it cuz im old as fuuuu”

Her eyes swelled of fresh expectations as she looks around the saloon. (We came here to enjoy ourselves, so yes, I would like you to have fun. To be honest, I would rather not teach you how to play the more dubious games, but…) (If it’s just something like cards, there shouldn’t be a problem.) While I survey the surroundings, right in the direction of the bar counter a voice calls out to me.

[Baron]: “Ah, the Count. It has been a while.” [Baroness]: “After this we’re playing a bit of poker, but would you like to join us?” I turn my eyes to see a baron who I was acquainted with and his wife beckoning me over. [Count]: “Kara, would you like to try?” [Kara]: “I only know the very basic rules, but I’ll try.” [Count]: “I’ll teach you, then.”

[Count]: “…And with that, I have shown you more or less the fundamental rules– but is there anything else that you may be confused about?” [Kara]: “I think I’ll be okay from here…!” [Count]: “Then, let’s put it into practice.” [Kara]: “Please go easy on me.” [Baron]: “Well, young miss, when it comes to winning or losing there’s no such thing as leniency.” [Baroness]: “Oh, you! You shouldn’t scare such an adorable little lady like that.” During our pleasant chatter, the cards are dealt before the four of us and we each check our individual hands. (A King, another King, a Three, a Seven, and a Jack… With only these, I can form One Pair with my Kings. A rather mediocre hand.) (Or, I could discard the other three cards and aim for a Three of a Kind?) (Well then. And Kara…?) While maintaining a poker face, I slide a glance and— [Kara]: “…” Within the tension her cheeks were slightly flushed red, and her mouth was shaped into a faint smile. (It appears that good cards have come to her.) (…But I probably should have also taught her the techniques of forming a poker face.) Though subtly smiling bitterly, I pleasantly watched my beloved to whom I shall compete with in her first poker game – She was fixated on the five cards in her hand before suddenly lifting her eyes. The moment our eyes met…—

(Huh…?) Almost in slow motion, my fingers move… [Count]: “—kgh,”

My fingers pick out the two Kings from my hand and throw them into the muck without a moment's hesitation. (Why, am I acting like…) (For a moment, it was almost as if someone had taken over my body—) Akin to a marionette, my actions had disregarded my own will. In my centuries of living, it was the first time I had ever experienced anything like that. (Just what on Earth was…) 

[Baroness]: “My, it’s rare for the Count to lose his poker face like that.” [Count]: “Perhaps it’s also all just an act?” [Baron]: “As you’d expect from the Count, you can’t underestimate him.” While playfully exchanging banter, my consciousness was once more preoccupied with some thorough reflection. What rose from my mind was the suspicious moon that had risen in the sky. (—The “purple moon”.) Much like tonight - once every several centuries, there is a night where moon gives off a violet light. (That moonlight sharpens the vampiric senses, and additionally…) (On the night of the shining purple moon, vampires cannot oppose their loved ones.) As for my loved ones, it is undeniably Kara. (In other words, tonight my body is – controlled by Kara.)

If this is the case, then it would explain the cryptic behavior from just a minute ago. (If I cannot go against her wishes…) (Right when I met her eyes, it is highly probable that she had wished to beat me.) I turn over the new cards that were dealt to me in exchange for my discarded ones. (An Eight, and a King.) (If I hadn’t thrown away those Kings, I would have formed a Three of a Kind...)

[Count]: “…It appears I’m out of luck.” I line up my random assortment of cards by suit and place them down on the table. [Baroness]: “Hehe, I have One Pair.” [Baron]: “I also have One Pair.” [Kara]: “I have a Three of a Kind.” She breaks into a cheerful smile and reveals her hand. [Count]: “It seems that Lady Luck is smiling upon you.” [Kara]: “Hehe… it seems like it.” From that carefree smile, a sweet feeling spreads within the depths of my heart.  (The real thrill of poker is supposed to be the psychological warfare, but) (When you are so innocently delighted I seem to forget all about that.) (This is not entirely the way I would have wanted it, but I got to see something lovely.)

And so, as the game continued— …In the end, I was unable to outplay her. [Baron]: “It surprised me to see the Count so clumsy at poker.” [Baron]: “Are you up for another round?” [Count]: “Please forgive me, but I cannot afford to display such an unsightly side of myself in front of my beloved anymore.” [Baroness]: “Miss Kara, I had fun with you tonight.” [Kara]: “Me too. Thank you for inviting me to play.” We leave the table, and I call on a waiter dressed in black to halt for me. [Count]: “May I have two glasses of champagne?” Receiving the pair of flutes, I hold out one of them to Kara. [Count]: “For your victory.”

[Count]: “So, for the occasion, shall we have a toast somewhere?” [Kara]: “Yes, of course… Um, where are we going?” [Count]: “How about someplace like the balcony?” [Count]: “With your first poker victory, it is a special night.” [Count]: “I want to have a quiet toast between just the two of us.” [Kara]: “O-Okay…”

Between the two of them, the honey-colored champagne sways in the glasses as if to mark the beginning of a sweet night…

Clinking our glasses, the champagne bubbles rise to the surface. [Count]: “Congratulations. Even to the end, I just couldn’t beat you.”

or rather “Congratulations - For I couldn’t win (over you) even at the end.” but that sounds kind of shady hm

[Kara]: “Thank you, but I definitely just got lucky there.” [Kara]: “I guess there really is such a thing as beginner’s luck, huh.” [Count]: “You say that, but you still seem rather happy about it?” I set my glass down and stroke her grinning cheeks with my fingertips to poke fun at them. [Count]: “Are you really that pleased about besting me?” [Kara]: “This is the first time I’ve ever won against the Count with something, so naturally I’m happy about it…”

lol i know they mean by “winning” in the general sense but i like to think they’ve played several types of games together and he just never lets her win

(You are truly not wearing a poker face of any kind right now.) (Even when you do try to hide it, it’s clearly apparent when you are thinking about something else.) [Count]: “But that’s not all, is it?” (I know that you wanted to beat me because the light of the purple moon had affected my body to do so.) (You so deeply wanted, from the bottom of your heart, to win - so I want to know the real reason behind it.) [Count]: “Come, truthfully confess to me.” [Kara]: “I can’t let anything slip past you, it seems…”

She’s at a bit of a loss for words before slowly looking up at me to possibly gauge my expression. [Kara]: “The truth is… back from when you kissed me in the carriage, I had been thinking about it.” [Count]: “That you wanted to beat me in something?” [Kara]: “Yes. At the time, while I was trying my hardest to calm my heartbeat…” [Kara]: “You, however, maintained your composed, collected face, right?” [Kara]: “That moment today wasn’t the only time it’s been like that; ever since we’ve become lovers, it has happened so many times that it’s impossible to count…” She tightly bites her lip. [Kara]: “I just can’t compete with someone like you.” [Kara]: “But then I thought with something like poker, I could perhaps win with luck on my side.”

[Kara]: “Since I’ve always been the one being toyed with…” [Kara]: “Tonight, I thought… that I wanted to see the Count’s– see Abel’s, restless face…”

At that moment, I realized the consequences I had wrought from my prying – but it was already too late. The instant she shot through me with those eyes blurred with shyness, I could hear the sound of my reason shattering into pieces…

[Count]: “kgh—” (—I cannot fight it.) (Kara, I want to… No, I need – to take you.)

So I changed this entirely bc there’s no English equivalent. The original line can be literally translated as “Kara, I want to take you… no, take you.” What he does is change the pronoun he uses for “you” (kimi → omae) to signal the change in the level of intimacy. With most people (mansion residents, people in general) the Count uses “kimi”. Though with those who know him at a closer level, like Leonardo and Vlad, he uses “omae”. (Mostly) men are only really supposed to use “omae” with people they’re close to or it comes off as rude. This is significant with the Count and MC’s relationship because he begins to refer to her as “omae” when they’re alone together (and thus wants to make a point about how personal it is) once they reciprocate their feelings in Chapter… 24(?). The writers are more than aware of this, because all of the Count’s His POV stories in his route are titled 「君○○」 “kimi ____” but the His POV titles for the Endings use “omae”.

[Kara]: “—gh, Abel…” When I strongly embrace her, from the corner of my eye I catch sight of the moon in its sheen of purple light. Paired with this boiling sensation in my blood, I once again realize the meaning of my existence. [Count]: “…As you desire, I shall become just a man for you.” [Kara]: “A, bel…? —Mn, nn…” I steal her lips, as if to take away all of her warmth. (Just simple touches are not enough.) I draw her head closer and entangle our tongues to steal those lips even deeper. (What’s this - it’s sweet… from the scent, the touch, and the taste…) However, my hunger was not sated even by this kiss. (More - I want to taste you, more…) I pull her waist towards me and capture her tongue that had attempted to escape in a fluster. Dominated by instinct, like a starved beast I devour her lips.

(…Seeking her in this way, in an unknown place where someone could come, what in God’s name is wrong with me?) The remains of my reason murmur from the edge of my mind. But, contrary to those feelings, there was a certain kind of a pleasure intoxicating my heart. (The sense of my reason being thrown aside… is this sweet, hm…?) My fingertips, in their longing for her, slowly ride up the hem of her dress.

sir this is a community balcony i’m gonna need you to take yourself out

[Kara]: “Ngh… A, bel…”

[Count]: “Whether to accept or refuse me, is up to you.”

PREMIUM ENDING

The “purple moon” sharpens the vampire’s senses, and additionally– a vampire’s body that basks in its moonlight shall be dominated by their loved ones. [Kara]: “Since I’m always the only one being toyed with…” [Kara]: “Tonight, I thought… that I wanted to see the Count’s– see Abel’s, restless face…” —A loved one’s wishes, for tonight, can be granted under this moon that emits this mysterious light. My fingertips, in their longing for her, slowly ride up the hem of her dress. [Kara]: “Ngh… A, bel…” [Count]: “Whether to accept or refuse me, is up to you.”

Releasing her lips from our deep kiss, I securely hug her from behind and place her hands against the balcony. [Kara]: “Abel, what are…?” The eyes that look over the shoulder quiver in confusion. (Right now, as instinct overwhelms me... I want to take you.) [Count]: “Show me that disheveled form of yours some more.” A hand glides upwards to approach her chest, and wraps around her breast through the silk of the fabric. [Kara]: “Nnn… Abel,” [Count]: “It’s all right. I shall hide you in a way that no else can see.” [Count]: “Even for myself, I do not intend to show that sweet expression of yours to other men.” [Kara]: “That’s not the…” Her eyes were widened, and moistened with shame. [Count]: “And just who was the one who said that they wanted to see my restless face?” [Kara]: “That’s...” The adorable figure of my beloved, trapped with lowered eyes, also makes a bewitching pleasure sharply simmer within me. (If I happened to look into a mirror right now… Without a doubt, I would see that the face I’m wearing is far from that of a gentleman.) [Count]: “I know that you also want to learn of these indecent pleasures, hm?” [Kara]: “I…—nn,” To cut off her words, I rub the peaks of her breasts against the silk with the pads of my fingers. [Kara]: “ah- Mn…” [Count]: “To the point where I can find that out immediately— harden them for me.” [Count]: “Not wanting to know this pleasure... you don’t seem that way at all, or am I mistaken?” (Because of the purple moon, I cannot go against her wishes tonight.) (If she truly didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be able to even lay a finger on her.) (Since I am able to touch her, this means—)

[Count]: “…You truly, want me to forcibly take you, don’t you?” Burying my face onto her nape I move my fingers to agitate her, her body trembling within me. Desperately biting her lip, she stifles her sweet voice. (Whatever it is that you are thinking, I will quite distinctly know what it is.) (Because the one controlling me, is you yourself…) I rub her with my fingers again, and she twists her back with a shudder. [Kara]: “Hah, ah…” [Count]: “It seems that you are feeling it more than usual.” [Count]: “To seek a thrill like this, what a bad girl you are.”

[Count]: “But, if you don’t keep that voice down, you will be heard, no?” [Kara]: “Ha, ah- But… I can’t… hold o-…” [Count]: “There’s no other choice, then.” The corners of my lips raise into an elegant smile before I lift her chin. [Count]: “I’ll stifle it for you.” [Kara]: “Mn, uhn…” Continuing to lovingly caress her breast in one hand I press my lips to hers, providing even more heat. A voice laced with temptation spills out from her wetted lips. [Kara]: “A…bel… if you do, any more than this, I…” [Count]: “Then if I do any more than this, what will happen?” [Kara]: “Don’t bully me…” Her lovely voice cries out between the light brushes of our lips, and my chest sweetly tightens from the sound. (This appetite will not be satisfied until I make her wholly mine.) [Count]: “Do you take me for a man who only teases and leaves you unfulfilled?”

[Count]: “I shall stain your entire body with pleasure.”

…In a certain room. I slip off my coats, vest, tie, and finally shirt to reveal my bare skin…While I fling them onto the sofa one by one, I lead Kara in the direction of the bed. (The part where I drive her to the corner like this… is exceptional tonight.)

[Kara]: “Ah…” Hitting the edge of the bed, she casts her eyes down as there is nowhere else to go. [Count]: “…Got you.” I capture her beloved body into my arm’s embrace, and slowly push her down onto the bed. [Count]: “In here, you can be as loud as you like.” [Kara]: “But… is it okay to use this room as you please…?” [Count]: “When we arrived tonight we had talked about the themes of evening parties, correct?” I move my hand from stroking her blooming cheeks to press a fingertip against her lips. [Count]: “For those who wish to indulge in something rather risqué for the night, they prepare rooms like this.” [Count]: “So I shall receive this room for use with my humble gratitude.” I unravel the ribbon on the back, and the silk dress almost seemed to glide off her shoulder as it fell down.

(I do like to beautifully dress you up – but stripping you down with my own two hands also sends my heart racing.) [Kara]: “gh…” I seize her hands that were about to cover her chest and pin them to the sheets. [Count]: “Without hiding anything, show yourself to me.” Her exposed skin became shamefully dyed with the hue of roses before my very eyes. This color, teeming with vitality, made my vampiric instincts ache painfully.

[Kara]: “n-no… It’s embarrassing…” [Count]: “Then, if I stop looking… I shall have a taste instead.” I meet her breasts and crawl the tip of my tongue along the peak. [Kara]: “Ah, aah… Abel… Mn,” She pushes against my chest in light resistance. But before long her resistance had ceased, and gradually changed to that of her disheveled sighs and sweet gasps. [Count]: “It seems that you’ve become quite honest with yourself.” [Kara]: “To be loved like this – I have no choice but to be honest, right…?” [Kara]: “As tonight will be the only time I’ll get to know of your ferocious emotions…”

My mind is suddenly drawn to her wording. (Does she know about the purple moon…?) But I cannot imagine that she would know about something like a rare phenomenon that occurs only once every several centuries. I stare at her as if to look into her heart, and our eyes meet.

[Kara]: “More… Please, lose yourself to me, more…” (If she does know about the purple moon, and thus is purposefully provoking me, then…) [Count]: “What a naughty girl. Do you want to ruin my composure that badly?” [Kara]: “Yes…” The Count’s body is completely, sweetly steeped in her words, and as if it were alcohol his reason gradually dissolved. (Right now, even the words that I always shower her with will not come out.) For his heart was dominated only by the instinct of a vampire, and only by the instinct to love her as a man. [Count]: “I want to cast away my morality and reason, and just love you.”

FIN

this guy…………is a lot. i thought maybe everyone would be like this for the event but no, leo only gets weird bc essentially his mc was dumb enough to try to pick up broken shards of glass with her bare hands (im not trying to shame her… but i am) and then it’s not really isaac’s fault when he already has the worst bloodthirst out of all of them so sir step into the paddy wagon, the horni police will question u shortly

anyway tl;dr the sweet ending has the mc reveal to him early that she knew what the purple moon does to vampires in terms of the heightened vampire senses and crud but not the obedience to loved ones so he tells her blah blah romanceu talk but he still wants to bone and so they go home to do it instead. 

Make sure to purchase the Epilogue when you have the chance! It’s good stuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So, thanks for reading! (`･ω･´) Sorry if it’s hard to parse through. there’s a reason why editing is a job people get paid for orz

DannyMay 2019 themed story, I’m not late I’m just going my own pace pls be nice to me

Ectoplasm | Broken | Glass | Theory | Community | Eavesdropping | Worldbuilding | Accident | History | Or Read on AO3. | Shoutout to bibliophilea for betareading

Day 11: Shapeshift

"It's going to be a long night."

Those words never rang truer for Maddie, who simply nodded in response. Dr. Carrington flipped through her notes as she jotted down the latest updates before she began to shuffle papers around in the file. It took very little time to do progress notes. Not a whole lot could be documented about Danny, or well Phantom. What was there to record? Nothing that could be comparable to a human. Was Danny still human?

Maddie watched her son as he idly doodled on his board as the doctor did her duties. She could recognize the vague shape of a spaceship and some related doodles as he sketched wildly out of obvious boredom. What was Danny even considered? Was he human? Would it be actually worthwhile to test his vitals? Why did he look like this?

"Buuut we're pretty much all set. In a half-hour, I'll be back, and we'll get you prepped for surgery," the doctor spoke cheerfully, clicking her pen before putting it back in her coat pocket. "Do you have any questions? Danny?"

Danny's head snapped to attention, and he shook his head. She nodded.

"Alrighty, then when I come back, we can finally get you all fixed up." She smiled warmly at him, and Danny nodded eagerly. "And Maddie, you're still going to join?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, ignoring the instant terrible feeling. Operating on Danny...No. She had to make sure everything went alright in this situation.

"Good, then I'll see you in a bit!"

The door closed, and Maddie sighed softly. She began to dig through the bag Jack had left with her. Chargers, her kindle, Jazz's kindle, Jack's tablet, a notebook and pencils. He had also packed some fudge cookies and chips for them. She noticed some glass bottles of green liquid, and she curiously pulled them out. They looked nothing like what she had in the lab, and the tape on them labelling them was nothing like she typically used. Ecto-Dejecto Energy Drink. She turned them in her hand, listening to Danny's marker squeak.

Danny's board nudged her shoulder, and she glanced over to read what he had written.

My Greenbull!

Greenbull? Danny wiped off the board with his forearm before writing more. She turned the vial around in her hand, hoping for some kind of details to be written somewhere. Nothing.

"What is this?" she asked aloud, and Danny held up a finger before continuing to write.

Maddie glanced at the labelling again. Ecto-Dejecto? That was what she and Jack had used before to weaken a ghost, to make it easier to fight them. Did Jack accidentally bring some along? Danny nudged her again, and her eyes scanned his sloppy writing.

Your ecto dejecto had opposite effect so it makes ghosts stronger, I changed it so it's an energy drink. It helps me stay a ghost longer. Jazz knows where I keep it.

"You modified our Ecto-Dejecto?" Maddie was surprised. Danny nodded, and he wiped the board to write more. "Danny, just the fact that you were able to successfully modify our formula is amazing. How come." She cut herself off. How come her son was failing chemistry when he could make this with no guidance?

Because Phantom was seen all hours of the day and night fighting ghosts. During school hours. During bedtime. Past curfew. That's where Danny always was. Hunting ghosts. Fighting them. Getting hurt. Ending up in the hospital so badly injured that he practically lost half of his teeth. And if her math was correct, her understanding of a possible timeline...just about the time Danny began to flunk was when Phantom began to show up.

Yeah, I can't stay a ghost too long, and all the ghost hunting really exhausts me. I drink this to give me a boost to help me. Tuck helped, we call it Greenbull.

Phantom was seen all hours of the day and night fighting ghosts. He showed up to nearly every ghost incident to fight. To the point that Jack and Maddie happily began to let Phantom take on the ghosts, especially during the later hours. From their observations, he was only interested in fighting other ghosts. "Let them tire each other out," she remembered telling Jack. She had been letting her son take on the slack and responsibility that she was supposed to have done. To the point that he was chugging a homemade energy drink that he had to engineer himself to keep himself going because taking a break wasn't really an option. Maddie was a terrible mother.

Wait.

"Tucker knows?" she asked. Danny flinched, and he nodded. He jotted on the board something she already guessed.

Sam too.

He told his friends over her and Jack? Well, made sense. They were all very close. But she was his mom. If he had told her, she could have helped him. She could have fixed this. She could have taken the ghost powers away or found a way to remove the ghostlyness. But by now, his ghostly form had to be stable after having shifted and such for so long. It was likely too late to do anything now.

"When did you tell them?" she wondered. The marker hovered hesitantly over the board before quickly writing.

They were there.

There for what? How did this even...The portal. It had to be. There had to be no other way. Nothing else they could have made or produced would result in something like this, in this weird ghostly powers. And Danny lied to her. He lied to her face about where he was when the portal had apparently flickered to life while she and Jack were out of the house. That the portal had turned on when nobody was home. But how did it happen? She needed to know. Her mind was racing with all the things that could have gone wrong, the many possibilities. How could this entire situation even be real? How could she even be assured that Phantom was telling the truth? What if this was a big lie? No, no. Jazz wouldn't have gone along with it. Jazz had to have known. Her behavior, her reactions. She knew. This was Danny. This was her brother. This was her son.

"What happened?" she whispered. Danny shook his head, wiping off the board and leaning back into the pillows. Right. Right...now was not a good time to discuss this. Phantom, her son?, his face was still swollen, and the IV of medicine was slowly dripping. The only thing keeping him pain-free. Because she failed to do anything to help keep him safe. She was nearly doing the opposite come to…

She leaned into him a bit, reaching out to gently stroke his hair comfortingly. His hair didn't feel like it had been bleached or dyed. This was natural. But how? Could Danny shapeshift? How the hell did she not know about this? Danny looked at her with such a content, yet exhausted look. Now that she knew...how could she have suspected nothing? All she could see now when staring at the ghost boy was how much he resembled her only son. What kind of mother didn't recognize her own child like that? Even if he was...

What else had he not told her?

Danny pointed to the glass vial in her hand, and Maddie glanced at it before looking back to him. He made a drinking motion, and she took the cap off before letting him have it. Danny glanced at the bottle, and he quickly threw his head back, pouring the contents into his mouth quickly. Maddie winced at the half-choked coughing and struggles to swallow before Danny finally handed her an empty bottle back. He wheezed a bit but smiled, giving a thumbs up. Did this work that quickly?

The Ecto-Dejecto, like everything they made, was meant to only work on ghosts. No wonder they always targeted Danny. Or was it? Was Danny a ghost? Did Danny...die?

She froze completely at that idea as she watched Danny take up doing more doodles. More spaceships and stars. Was she that neglectful of a mother that she didn't notice her own son passing away? What else could he be? Did Danny die, and she didn't notice? How could he look so differently when masquerading as Phantom? Was this his true form now? Did Danny die?

This wasn't the time to discuss that. Not when Danny couldn't even say a single word. But she could feel her hands begin to shake. Did her child die without her even noticing? What kind of fucking mother could not notice that? Ghosts could shapeshift. And there was still so much unknown about death. Did Danny have to force himself to shapeshift into what he used to look like so he could be around? So that she would continue to love him or something? Didn't he know that she'd love him no matter what? Why was he even around if he had died? How, why, what.

"Danny, did you die?" It came out so quietly and softly. Her son stared at her with wide, frightened and confused eyes.

She could see Danny visibly swallow anxiously. It did nothing to help her own worries. He slowly wiped away his doodles, and once presented with a blank slate, he began to write. Slowly. Constantly stopping to briefly wipe away the words and rethinking. Maddie could do nothing but stare intensely as she waited for an answer.

A knock interrupted them, and Dr. Carrington came into the room with a smile, followed by a nurse.

"Hey, we can finally get this show on the road," she chirped cheerfully.

They walked up, and Danny absentmindedly handed Maddie the board and markers. They began to shift to where they could move the hospital bed. Maddie paid little mind as she read over what Danny had begun to write. All that was written was

The portal

Her worst fears were confirmed, and she hated it. She stayed painfully quiet as she wiped the board, shoving it into the backpack along with the markers. It stuck out the top, and she left it on the chair. Maddie not only was so oblivious that she had missed that her own child had died, but was so neglectful that she was the reason he had died.

"Just to avoid some drama, we're gonna sheet you again, okay? Standard procedure like we been doing," one of the nurses told Danny, and he gave a thumbs up. She smiled warmly at him, pulling his sheets over his head to hide the ghost from any possible publicity. This had to remain as quiet as possible.

Maddie pocketed two more vials of the homemade energy drink as she began to follow the others in a fog. What kind of mother...what kind of person could miss...would be oblivious… Her eyes welled with tears. A horrible mom wouldn't have noticed, too busy in the lab looking for ways to destroy ghosts instead of being a good mom who was active in her son's life. Where did she go wrong? When did she begin failing as a parent? What did she do to make her son believe that he had to keep this from her?

They wheeled him into the surgical room without incident.

"Come get some scrubs and wash up," Dr. Carrington instructed Maddie, motioning for her to follow.

"Alright. I have something that should help Phantom while we're operating," Maddie said, and she held up the vials. Dr. Carrington smiled.

"Perfect!" she chirped. "What's its purpose?"

"It boosts his power, meaning it should also boost any healing effects and keep him stable," she replied. At least, that was the impression she got from Danny. Dr. Carrington simply nodded. "We can mix it into the IV bag."

"Sounds good. Let's get washed, and then you can do just that."

Maddie took a deep breath. For the first time in her life, it was giving her anxiety to, essentially, dissect a ghost in some capacity. Hopefully Danny wouldn't shapeshift back. Is that how this worked? This night was going to burn into the mother's memory forever for all the wrong reasons.

She slowly washed up and donned her gifted scrubs, anxiously following Dr. Carrington into the room. Danny was still awake for now, nodding and confirming things with the surgeon.

A version of her biggest dream was here. Surrounded by a company of doctors about to operate on Amity Park's greatest menace, discovering his unique biology and being able to contribute to her field of study. But this was nightmare fuel of the highest degree, and she felt sick. She was regretting not asking Jack to do this. It wasn't too late to-oh yeah it was. It was so late for everything. Just everything.

"Maddie do you wanna get the IV set up with Nurse Sanchez? She can help you mix in your stuff."

"I can," was all Maddie could bring herself to say. Her mouth felt so dry. She went over to the nurse.

"You can just give it to me," the nurse told her. Maddie didn't argue, and she handed the vials over. She hoped it would be enough to keep Danny's...form like this. The nurse thanked her, and she set to work.

Maddie found herself standing right over Danny as he stared off to the side. Towards the tray of medical tools, with anxiety written clearly on his features. She lightly stroked his hair, and he glanced up at her.

"I'll be here the whole time," she said. Though at this point, was it a threat or a comfort?

The later it thankfully seemed, as Danny visibly perked up and nodded. He held his hand up, and she took it, giving it a light squeeze as her heart sank a bit. How could she be here, doing this? Could she just get through this pretending he was only Phan-no. No. No, no, no. She couldn't do that. Not anymore. Not just blindly pretend. This was her son, and a possible chance to finally do something good for him as a mother.

She watched his IV bag get changed out, and she prayed that the mix kept him together. Prevented this secret from becoming exposed. The new mixture soon was slowly dripping in.

"Alright, Danny, we're ready to get started," the anesthesiologist spoke, and Danny let go of his mom's hand. He put the mask over his face gently. "Count backwards."

Danny made a noise of sorts, and in less than thirty seconds, he was out like a light. Maddie's breath caught in her throat as she fearfully anticipated his form to change. It did not.

The surgeon's words were muffled in her mind as she watched them make the first incision, then slowly, for the next six hours, begin to make the careful and painstaking task of wiring her baby back together. The process felt like it would never end.

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 6

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.5k

Part 5 <<< >>> Part 7

MASTERLIST

                He couldn’t believe she was once again teasing him, getting a thrill out of his reaction. It was a real skill she had.

“Don’t be so modest, I saw the way you threw the ax, Parker. I don’t know what you’re trying to hide under that baggy sweatshirt of yours, but I admit I’m getting curiouser and curiouser. Makes me wonder how jacked you are under there.”

                Peter’s face went through fifty shades of red in the span of five seconds, and Emmeline was beyond proud of herself for making him blush like that. She did seem to have a certain talent in embarrassing Peter; hopefully he knew it was all in good grace and she didn’t mean ill.

                 She twirled her empty cup between her fingers, smiling wickedly.

“You just love to see me wriggle in my chair when you say something like that,” he accused her.

“I’m not lying, though.” She raised a brow. “Emmeline Gerard only has one word, and it is true.”

                Emmeline Gerard was also a huge flirt and if Peter wasn’t so dense, he would notice it. That was a typical male thing: to not see when a woman was openly hitting on them and then complain that they are always the ones who are expected to take the first step.

“Don’t care.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest – maybe to show off his biceps, maybe to show her he was mad, he wouldn’t admit to either. “I feel objectified all the same.”

“Here, have a cookie, you’ll feel better,” Emmeline enjoined him, pushing the treat towards him. “I didn’t mean it, quit sulking.”

“Oh, so you think I’m fat?” he asked in mock-offense as he grabbed the cookie and bit into it.

                They both laughed and she swatted his shoulder for acting like an idiot.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” he started, the laughter dying down as he looked at her, locking his gaze on her and uncrossing his arms.

                Her smile dropped.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” she asked in a sigh. “Alright, I guess I brought this on myself. What do you wanna know?”

                He wasn’t surprised that she had guessed what it was about. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else since she talked about her parents an hour ago. He just needed to know what went on in her life – Emmeline was so secretive! He was the one with a secret alter ego, yet she acted like she was secretly Batman.

                He began to fidget, brows furrowed as he proceeded to tell her something he rarely ever brought up.

“It’s more of a request, actually. I- euh, I’m an orphan too,” he stated, making her drop her jaw and stop playing with her empty cup. “I understand better than anyone why you don’t like to talk about your parents, biological or adopted. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you ever want to talk to someone… you know, instead of throwing sharp deadly weapons around-“ He smiled a little and she mirrored the expression. They had both sobered up pretty quickly after his opening statement. “You can talk to me.”

                She shrugged.

“I don’t remember much; I wouldn’t know what to say even if I wanted to talk about it. I was so young…” She sighed, eyes not leaving his. “My adoptive parents are the only ones I know, and they are basically strangers to me. What about you? Any luck in that area?”

“I wasn’t really adopted like you think.” Peter chewed on his lip and rubbed his chin. “One day my parents left me in the care of my aunt and uncle, and they just never came back. Plane crash,” he explained. “I can remember them but sometimes I forget what they looked like. It’s scary to think that I could forget them entirely one day.”

“How’s life with your aunt and uncle?” Emmeline pushed him, the eagerness visible in the way she stared wide-eyed, fingers tugging at her sleeve.

“My uncle died when I was in high school, during a robbery gone wrong.” Jesus Christ, it hurt to talk about it, more than he had anticipated, but he could see that his words finally reached her, moved her. They acted like a key unlocking something. She was drinking up his every word. “Life was good with them. Aunt May is the best, and I couldn’t have asked for better parents than them.” He swallowed with difficulty, wondering what kind of parents he had before that fateful plane crash.

                His increasingly dark train of thought was interrupted when he felt a warm hand resting on his closed fist. He looked up again, finding Emmeline’s concerned eyes set on him.

“But enough with the pathetic story of my life.”

                Slowly, he loosened his fist, relaxing under her touch. Emmeline didn’t move her hand, rather she let her fingers slip in his now unstrained fist.

“I’d drink to that if my cup wasn’t empty,” Emmeline chuckled, humorlessly. He watched her mood shift under his eyes, becoming bitter. She sucked in her cheeks and focused on their joined hands. “Did you vote for my father at the last election?”

“… yes,” Peter admitted, feeling it wasn’t the right answer though it was the truth.

“I didn’t. I told him I did, of course. He never even considered I could vote for someone else; it was a given that the family would vote for him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Peter asked in what was barely above a whisper. Her aura exuded rancor.

“I’m not a difficult person, or at least, I don’t think so. I never wished for all the things I have today, all the… the money, the reputation, the social status… It was all so abstract to the little girl I was. I just wanted parents, you know?”

                Peter nodded; he thought he knew where she was going.

“But it wasn’t what I got. I would often cry about it to my friends in the beginning, but quickly got shut down. I found out at an early age that people do not pity the rich, even if it’s a crying little girl who longs for some form of parental love,” she spat out the last part, still resenting the people who had turned their back on her when she needed them. It was Peter’s turn to squeeze her hand. “So, here you go. That’s why I’m such a stuck-up bitch today. No one’s ever told me it was okay to talk about how I feel, until a few months ago.”

“What happened a few months ago?”

                Peter’s entire body had tensed up at this point. He could hear his blood pulsing in his temples and waited for the bomb. He already knew the answer, but it would have been strange not to ask. He was the one who told her to talk to a friend, that someone cared, that someone would listen.

                Emmeline seemed to recompose herself and shook her head a little, letting him go and pushing away her cup, clearing her throat. When she looked up, the dark clouds in her eyes had dissipated.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she said with a forced laugh, turning her attention to the window. “I hadn’t realized it was already dark outside, I should get going. Bella’s waiting for me.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, accepting that this was as much information he would get for today and thinking about nothing but the night he found her being pressed against a wall, blouse ripped open, a man with a hand down his pants all over her.

                He saw the hesitation cross her face, but she must have had the same thought as him; she stood up and grabbed her coat before looking at him.

“Yes, please.”

  *

                  That night Peter broke one of his own new rules and stopped by her place on his way back from a mission. He couldn’t help it, as much as he had tried.

                When he knocked on the window, Bella immediately began to jump excitedly, pawing at the glass and barking. It must have been double glazing because he barely heard a thing at all. Emmeline soon walked into the living room, toothbrush in her mouth, raising her arms in a “what the fuck man” gesture. At least, that was how Peter interpreted it.

                She walked back where she came from, and reappeared a minute later, with no more toothbrush.

“Thought you wouldn’t come here again,” she said as a way of greeting him when she opened the French window, letting Bella out to greet him properly.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her as he sat down to play with her dog. “I totally just came to see Bella by the way, you can go back inside.”

                Emmeline wasn’t amused and she let him know.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to see how far along you were this that deal of ours,” he told her, raising both hands in surrender.

“How-“ she made a helpless hand gesture. “How do you know? How can you possibly know that I finally talked to someone today? Who the fuck are you?”

“Ugh, language, young lady,” he giggled, standing up to talk to her at eye-level. “Let’s say I have a spider sense that tells me those things.”

“This is very weird.”

“How is it any weirder than feminine intuition? I’m listening.”

“Half the human population has it,” she stated, point blank. “It’s a real thing, unlike your… spidey- tingle.”

“Spider sense,” he corrected her.

“Same difference.”

“You are being very difficult tonight. I thought you’d be in a lighter mood now that you unburdened yourself a little bit,” he whined, pointing a finger at her. Emmeline didn’t give two shits that he was Spider-Man, she swatted his accusing finger away and took a step forward.

“Tone it down a notch, Spidey-boy,” she warned him. “I held my end of the bargain, now I get to be in whatever mood I want.”

“It wasn’t a bargain; I didn’t promise anything in exchange.”

“Well then I want something.” She planted her feet firmly on the ground, and her hands on her hips.

                Peter sighed, regretting this impromptu visit already, though he couldn’t deny he loved their superhero and civilian banter. The way she stood up to him would have made him shrivel away a few years back, but he was glad he had grown out of his awkward teenager phase and could stand up for himself now.

                Though the awkward teenage still showed once every now and then, most of the time when she said something saucy.

“I’m not swinging you around New York,” he warned her. “Last time I did that, the girl got sick.”

“That’s not what I want,” Emmeline scoffed, waving her hand to dismiss his idea. “Who would ask for that anyway? We’re in December, my nose would freeze and fall off.”

“Alright, name your price then, princess.”

“Do not start using pet names, or I will wipe the floor with your ass, Spidey-boy.” For a second, he thought she just might. “Just promise make sure that what happened to me doesn’t happen to another girl, yeah? That’s my price.”

                Peter wasn’t expecting this request, but he nodded without thinking about it. It was a given.

“I will.”

“Good. Now fuck off of my balcony. I was going to bed,” she shooed him away, like you did to a stray cat.

“You’re so mean to me!”

“It’s tough love, baby!” She laughed and waved him goodbye through the window, waiting until he left, and Bella strutted back inside to close the door. “He’s a bit strange for a superhero, don’t you think?”

  *

                  Emmeline never talked about Spider-Man to Peter, but he could still see the way their late-night chats affected her moods. She was often less grumpy when he visited her. It made him feel terrible because they were both becoming dependent on his visits, and as odd as it might sound, Peter was jealous of his alter ego. Jealous because Emmeline seemed to like Spider-Man better than Peter Parker.

                But Emmeline didn’t sit next to Spider-Man in class, she sat next to Peter, and for that he was infinitely grateful. She was better than him in physics anyway, it was a nice change from always being the nerdy one. Then again, when you’re a biophysics post-grad, the chances of you being the only nerd in the room were very slim.

“Will you be my partner?” she asked him, bursting his little bubble of silent contemplation. He hadn’t realized he had zoned out in the middle of class until she spoke up.

“Uh?” was all he was capable of answering.

“The assignment. We should do it together, partner-up,” she clarified. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

                Peter flinched and grimaced a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No?”

“You’ve being doing that a lot lately. Don’t you sleep at night?”

                Not as much as I’d like, he thought. Somehow, when he wasn’t visiting her as Spider-Man, it was because he was hanging out with her as Peter Parker, and the rest of the time he spent on Spider duty. He knew he was heading towards burn out, but he couldn’t hit the breaks either.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replied in a failed attempt to sound cool. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But I’ll do the assignment with you, sure. I’ll need your notes though, I have some catching up to do.”

“Not a problem.” She pulled out her agenda to scribble something down. “Since you were daydreaming again, let me recap for you: the assignment is due January 8th, jot that down. I’ll bring my notes this Thursday when we meet at the library, is that okay?”

“You’re the best,” Peter told her with a crooked smile that was meant to be charming. Emmeline rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation.”

“When should we start working then?” he asked, changing the subject. Another thing he noticed: she didn’t like compliments.

“We can start tonight if you want. You won’t need my notes to decide on a topic and get started,” she suggested. “My place, 7p.m.?”

                A resounding alarm began to pound in Peter’s head, reminding him that one meeting with her dog would give him away on the spot.

“Didn’t you say Bella doesn’t like strangers?” he questioned, trying to find a way out of this. “We won’t get much done if she’s busy barking up at me.”

“She’s not home at the moment. She must have eaten something bad because she kept vomiting and whining. I brought her to the vet, she’ll be back at the end of the week.”

                Peter knew how much she loved Bella, and the pitiful sigh she let out at the end of her explanation constricted his heart. There he was, trying to dodge out of a study session with the girl he liked to preserve his secret identity, while she was lonely in her huge apartment because her beloved four-legged companion was sick.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’ll be alright.” She nodded and forced a smile. “And tonight works fine for me.”

“Bring Tessa, I haven’t seen her in a week.”

.

.

.

Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso

Hey Dragon Fans! Let’s do a round up of all the information we’ve gotten so far about The Dragon Prince! This is quite a lot of info, so I’ll be throwing the bulk of it under a cut. (There will be spoilers for episode 1 of the show below the cut.)

The Dragon Prince, developed by Wonderstorm Inc., animated by Bardel Entertainment, and distributed by Netflix will be releasing all the episodes of the first season on September 14, 2018.

The official summary is, “Two human princes forge an unlikely bond with the elven assassin sent to kill them, embarking on an epic quest to bring peace to their warring lands.”

You can watch the promotional trailer here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7Bf7JLnlOU

Promotional taglines used by the official accounts have been “Destiny is a book you write yourself!” and “dragon big”.

Netflix currently has the show rated as TV-Y7 for Fantasy Violence. The animation is cell-shaded CG, much like what you see in Fire Emblem, Guilty Gear, or Avatar: The Lost Episodes.

The show will have an accompanying video game developed by Wonderstorm* with the story tellers for both show and game working closely together to ensure the stories being told are well integrated and complementary.

Our lead characters for the Netflix series are Callum, the elder human prince, Ezran, the human crown prince, and Rayla, a Moonshadow Elven Assassin.

The universe The Dragon Prince takes place in is divided into two primary areas, Xadia, the magical lands in the East, and the five great human kingdoms in the West. Centuries ago, Thunder the King of Dragons guarded the border between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms.

In the TDP universe, there were originally six types of magic: moon, sun, stars, earth, ocean, and sky. Humans developed a seventh type of magic, Dark Magic. With Dark Magic you find a creature that has that magic as part of their essence, you consume it quickly, and it unleashes a great amount of magic quickly. Dark Magic became a shortcut to great, fast power, but led to corruption and was wielded at the expense of the varied, intelligent, and powerful magical creatures of Xadia. The dragons and the elves allied to try to put a stop to the humans’ use of Dark Magic, but the Dragon King Thunder was killed by humans using dark magic and Thunder’s only egg and heir, The Dragon Prince, was destroyed. Now the world stands on the edge of all out war...

The first episode is titled “Book 1: Moon, Episode 1: Echoes of Thunder” and was premiered at the SDCC 2018 panel. You can read IGN’s review of the episode here.

SPOILERS FOR EPISODE ONE BEGIN HERE

Ezran is scared of thunderstorms and likes to steal treats from the baker with his pet glow toad, Bait. Glow toads are described as “the Grumpy Cat of magical illusionary amphibians.”

Even though Callum is older he is not the crown prince because he is the stepson of the king. This means Callum and Ezran are half brothers. The condition and whereabouts of Callum and Ezran’s mother is reported to be a spoiler. The King is a black man, and it appears that Ezran may be biracial.

One of the royal guards Sorin/Soren/Zoren (spelling unknown) is tasked with training Callum in sword fighting. Callum is disinterested and prefers to draw, unless Soren’s sister, Claudia, is around. Callum appears to have a crush on Claudia, and Soren helps by going easy on him in sparring sessions in front of her. Claudia appears to be very studious and nearly runs into a tree while reading because she is too focused on her book. Claudia and Soren’s father is a highly placed lord and leader of the royal army/guard.

It looks like Callum will be learning to use magic over the course of the show. What type of magic he uses is currently unknown. Based on the trailer I think that may be Claudia also shown using magic. Regardless of her identity, I suspect what the dark haired female magic user in the trailer is using is the Dark Magic we’ve seen discussed.

The elves that Rayla is a member of are called Moonshadow Elves (white haired elves with dark horns) and they literally draw power from the moon. They are at thier strongest during the full moon. The bracelet Rayla wears was acquired during a ceremony swearing loyalty to the Dragon King’s cause/memory(?). Moonshadow Elves demonstrate at minimum some form of cloaking magic, but can still be detected by certain types of animals. Rayla has a Scottish accent.

Rayla is going to be something of a mysterious figure and strongly conflicted about her role in current events, “testing her sense of right and wrong.” She tries to tell herself that “an assassin does not decide right or wrong, only life and death.”*

When the Moonshadow Elves stage an attack on the castle, the King decides to send Callum and Ezran away for thier own safety. Meanwhile, Soren and Claudia are ordered by thier father to stop the assassins. Callum wants to help but is told he cannot because he is only 14 (and 3/4!) years old and he must be 15 to fight.

There was a black-haired guard in the first episode (the one attacked by Rayla) that had not been formally named, but when asked by the panel audience they named him Marcos.

END OF  SPOILERS FOR EPISODE ONE

During the Q&A session (I’ve discussed this with several people who were in the room now trying to get clarity) it sounds like the question of if there would be LGBT+ representation in the show was very narrowly sidestepped. They told the panel audience that any sort of answer would be a spoiler. It seems likely that there will be LGBT+ representation, but it has not been explicitly promised, and I urge folk to temper expectations with the knowledge that while it’s wrong to use the TV-Y7 rating as a reason to not show canonically LGBT+ characters, it may end up being outside the Wonderstorm team’s hands to try to get it on screen. I’m cautiously optimistic. We’ll have to wait and see.

The staff did say they are strongly dedicated to creating an inclusive and diverse fantasy universe, with an especial focus on visible ethnic diversity. We can already see the beginning of that with the King and Ezran.

Being on Netflix permits the staff to do a darker take on the story than they might have been permitted on network television, and they’re excited to get to tell a complex and nuanced story that explores moral grays and the idea that there are both good and bad actors in every group and culture. That said, they want this series to be fun, light-hearted, and quirky too.

The SDCC panel gave away two goodies to anyone lucky enough to get into the panel, a large physical poster version of the concept art we first saw with the initial announcement and an enamel pin of Ezran’s pet glow toad, Bait. The backing for the enamel pin announced that Hot Topic will be carrying exclusive merchandise for The Dragon Prince beginning in September 2018.

(A big thank you to elventhespian, owldee, and kohisu for thier live blogs of the SDCC 2018 panel.) 

Official TDP social media accounts:

Tumblr - @dragonprinceofficial

Twitter - @thedragonprince

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/dragonprinceofficial/

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/dragonprinceofficial

YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPn8cnHhLHMQrGCmS0K5aBQ

TDP CAST AND CREW

The show is being helmed by Aaron Ehasz (Avatar: The Last Airbender, Futurama) and Justin Richmond (Uncharted 2, 3, & 4). Other staff members include: 

Executive Producer -- Giancarlo Volpe (Avatar: The Last Airbender, Green Lantern: The Animated Series, Star vs the Forces of Evil)

Composer -- Frederik Wiedmann (Green Lantern: The Animated Series, The Damned, Dying of the Light, various DC animated films)

Executive at Netflix -- Jenna Boyd (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Animation Directors --  Meruan Salim, Carlyle Wilson

Animation Coordinator -- Tony Power (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

Lead Animator -- Brian Ahlf (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) , Eric Childs (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles), Brian Kavanagh (DinoTrux), Kevin Kyle (The Adventures of Puss in Boots), Jody Prouse (DinoTrux, The Adventures of Puss in Boots)

Other Wonderstorm Staff -- Robert Cogburn, Devon Giehl, Danika Harrod, Iain Hendry, Dan Liebgold, Lauren Topal, Neil Mukhopadhyay, Justin Santistevan, Lulu Younes

Various Animators, Storyboard & Graphic Artists, Directors, etc -- Sabrina Ali, Laura Ambrosiano, Nicki Bianchini, CT Chrysler, Frankie Franco III, Zakiah Grant, Chelsea Gratzlaff, Tim Kaminski, Erica Kim, Nasus Lee, Jessica Mahon, Katie Olson, Daniel Pira, Candice Prince‏, Devin Rosychuk, Alicia Schaeffer, Siggy Sigmond, Eman Thabet

Voice Actor [Callum] -- Jack DeSena (Sokka on Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Voice Actor [Ezran] -- Sasha Rojen (The Flash, iZombie)

Voice Actor [Rayla] -- Paula M. Burrows [@paulamburrows]

Voice Actor [Claudia] -- Racquel Belmonte [@raqattack5 | x] (Sira on Lego Elves)

Voice Actor [Soren] -- Jesse Inocalla [@jinocalla] (The Little Prince, Dead Rising 4) 

Voice Actor [King Harrow] --  Luc Roderique [@lucroderique]

Voice Actor [Runaan] -- Jonathan Holmes

Voice Actor -- Rena Anakwe [@DJLadyLane | x] (Sapphire Shores on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Voice Actor -- Erik Todd Dellums [@ErikToddDellums | x | x] (Koh on Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Voice Actor -- Adrian Petriw [@adrianpetriw | x] (Adam in The Hollow)

Voice Actor -- Jason Simpson [@aboySimpson] (Cyclops on The Hollow)

I’m looking forward to having a fun fan experience with everyone in the months to come! 

Fan accounts to watch on twitter: DragonPrinceFan, The Dragon Prince Podcast, and Mundo Avatar (news in Portuguese)

Dedicated fan accounts to watch on tumblr: @dragonprincefan and @tdp-news

Chapter 1

It was a long time coming, but breaking up with Joshua was the most cathartic experience in Hoseok’s life. Granted he’d gone to cloud nine when he got his dream job, but this was a feeling of absolute content. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was finding himself in a gay club in Soho called The Arcane Escape.

“First time here?”

Hoseok jumped at the voice that came from behind the bar. The club was oddly muted, a very 1940’s aesthetic in place. The bartender was no older than 21, with a strong jaw and nose, dark brows visible with his slicked-back hair, a single strand curling coquettishly on his forehead. Like Superman.

“Ah, yeah. Just got out of a dead-end relationship and some friends told me this club was cool.” He looked around once more, eyes falling on one of the waiters (waitresses?). “It’s a cool concept for a gay club.”

The bartender chuckled, making Hoseok turn around to catch a glimpse of the young man’s bunny teeth. “Yeah, you can thank Sugar for that one. She owns the club.”

“You didn’t tell me we had new patrons in, Jungkook!” A soothingly nasal voice floated over to where Hoseok and the bartender (Jungkook, as Hoseok now knew) were. A tall queen with long black hair in a shoulder-length, wavy bob, plush ruby lips and broad shoulders sauntered over, wearing a red backless dress with little ruffled sleeves that covered her shoulders, a white feather boa draped in her arms.

“That’s cuz he just got here, Jeannie.” Jungkook raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his thin lips. “Interesting choice of outfit. Not performing tonight?”

Jeannie shrugged gracefully, ruby lips pouted and eyelids fluttering closed. “Gigi wasn’t here last week, as you know, so I gave her my shows for the week. I gotta say, she looks lovely in her choice of corsetry tonight.” When Jungkook cleared his throat and muttered something about getting another bottle of Jack, she blew a kiss at him and then turned her attention to Hoseok, who blushed red in turn. “Now, what’s your name, darling?”

“Hoseok.” He blurted out, feeling his face burn red. Jeannie smiled, gently, cooing softly at his blushing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok quickly found out quite a bit about Jeannie. His real name was Seokjin, and during the day he worked at a cafe near the bar, a well-known place called L’Eto. Hoseok also learned that he got his name from I Dream of Jeannie, because it sounded enough like his nickname and also because he loved the pun on the word “genie”. Apparently he loved puns in general. (“I couldn’t love them in captain, it’s not a high enough rank!”)

Suddenly the lights dimmed and a tall queen, taller than Jeannie, walked onstage, wearing a gloriously pink silk robe, pink heels and a long wavy blonde wig. She had the true definition of bedroom eyes, with glossy pink lips and smokey eyeshadow.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and all those in between or outside the norm. My name is Sugar, and as always, I am thrilled to have you here at my establishment. The cabaret will begin shortly, and I hope you all have a lovely time.” She winked at the crowd with a thick falsie and sauntered offstage.

The first few queens were quietly insulted by Jeannie as their acts went by, ranging from “absolute bitch” to “she didn’t laugh at my joke the other day”. When a shorter, curvier queen got on stage, however, the beauty sitting next to Hoseok at the table he’d guided him to slapped his arm in excitement.

“That’s Gigi! She’s in a relationship with Victoria.”

Gigi was an absolute beauty, softer and more delicate than Jeannie, but she had an aura of raw sensuality about her, even with her angelic face. Full, dark burgundy lips, similar to Jeannie’s but poutier, sleepy eyes and golden skin, the pink wig on her head carefully styled in tight waves pinned back with delicate hair pins with glittering pink crystals and pearls like a 1920’s flapper. The robe she was wearing was reminiscent of what Sugar had walked onstage with, but much more sheer, giving a glimpse of the glittering pink bustier, corset and panties she was wearing. She started dancing, sending small winks and smiles at the audience, walking up and down the stage as she lip-synced to Marilyn Monroe’s Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend, but the voice was just a bit different to what Hoseok thought Marilyn Monroe sounded like.

“Oh, Gigi and I are two of the only three queens who sing live. Victoria does a great Mae West impression as well.” Jeannie piped up, catching Hoseok’s small frown. When he turned to look at him with an astounded look on his face, the drag queen laughed, a sound not unlike a windshield wiper. “You look equal parts surprised and offended. Victoria always goes after Gigi, so you’ll see what I mean.”

During that short conversation, Gigi had shed her robe, and the crystal-studded lingerie glittered in the lights that shone onstage, dainty fingers grazing over stockinged thighs, the edge of the thigh-highs digging into the flesh of her thick and powerful legs. The robe had also been covering the odd skirt that connected to the corset, like a midi skirt but without a front, exposing the panties she had on but covering her butt. It swayed from side to side, giving a sneak peek at the backside that went with powerful thighs. Small hands picked at the corset slowly as the song reached its end, and the corset was pulled off, showing the panties and the silk garter keeping the stockings up, and when Gigi turned around to finish the song with a wink over her shoulder, Hoseok’s face burned red. The clapping was uproarious, and the mic taped to Gigi’s chest caught her giggles and the breathy thank you before she skipped offstage. Jeannie was laughing and he motioned for Hoseok to turn around and look at Jungkook, who was burning red. The lights dimmed and a low sultry beat started, deep bass and drums, a snapping of fingers before the lights turned on, tinted red and sensual. The queen standing onstage was tall and willowy, like an Alphonse Mucha painting in a floor-length see-through gown covered with glittering red and black crystals, various pieces of jewellery dripping from her neck and arms, a red crystal and gold diadem in her delicately curled blonde wig. The crystals that gathered at the chest fell over and narrowed into a long winding snake that very much resembled the Gucci snake and covered her crotch. She looked expensive and refined, like a fine wine that was only opened for royalty. And then she started singing.

“Holy shit.” Hoseok felt chills go down his spine as Victoria sang her own rendition of Peggy Lee’s Fever. Her voice was beautifully deep, sultry and smooth, and Hoseok could just melt into it.

“Isn’t she great?” Jeannie was smiling proudly, leaning his chin delicately on his hand, taking care not to smudge his foundation. As if sensing Jeannie’s praise, Victoria chuckled and smiled proudly at the audience during a break in the song. It was a boxy smile, not entirely unattractive, but charming in a different way to her aura as she sang.

At that moment, Jeannie turned to look at Hoseok. “I know she smiles like fucking Valentina, but she’s much nicer I swear.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea who that is.” Hoseok frowned in confusion, trying to rake his mind through all the names Jeannie had mentioned in his ramblings.

“Oh, she doesn’t work here. She was in RuPaul’s Drag Race, and she just rubbed me the wrong way. Victoria doesn’t appreciate that people tell her her smile is like that little bitch’s smile.” Jeannie whispered conspiratorially at Hoseok, but then sighed when he spotted someone approaching the table. “Aaah, they heard me. I love them, but sometimes…”

“Who’s “they”?” Hoseok asked, but his question was quickly answered when a tall young person with purple hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, wavy tresses cascading down their back slid into the seat next to Jeannie.

“No, Joon.”

The young person opened their mouth and then closed it, pouting slightly. “Why?”

“Because I heard you rant about this this morning. I am not letting you subject a potential friend to your political rants so early in the relationship.”

“Joon” crossed their arms over their chest, pursing thick lips in thought. Hoseok could feel a sense of domesticity between “Joon” and Jeannie, warm and loving.

“So, Joon, this is Hoseok. Hoseok, this is my amazingly smart, yet loose-lipped, partner, Joon.” Jeannie motioned gracefully between each of the other occupants sitting either side of him.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Joon’s voice was deep, comforting in a different way to Victoria’s, and the smile that they gave Hoseok was warm and dimpled.

“Yeah, same.” Hoseok grinned, bright and genuine, the last few notes of the song dying off as Victoria walked offstage, mic in hand and still singing. Joon stood up, tugging on their tie, a grey and black striped number that went well with the pinstripe vest and trousers. They looked like a very progressive mobster.

“I’m gonna get changed. It’s almost closing time.”

Jeannie nodded, stretching his arms in front of himself before standing up as well. Joon gave him a kiss on the cheek before they made their way behind the bar.

“Do you want to go meet the other queens?”

Most of the other queens had already left, leaving Victoria and Gigi gossiping and wiping off their makeup alone. Jeannie threw open the door to the backstage dramatically, also throwing the feather boa onto one of the chairs nearby.

“I bring a new potential friend!” He sang out, pulling out the pin that held the wig’s bangs in place.

“Oooh!” Gigi shot up from her seat, pink wig still styled in the same delicate finger waves, all the pins removed from it. Victoria had lost her wig, grey-brown hair tousled and feathery. Hoseok raised his hand in greeting as Jeannie disappeared behind a screen, the sound of a zipper and then a soft groan of relief floating out from behind it. Victoria and Gigi were out of their clothes, the bedazzled items hanging on their respective mannequins.

“Hi! I’m Jimin.” Gigi, or Jimin, outstretched his hand, fake nails now easily discernible. They were the same shade of pink as the lingerie set, almond-shaped and studded with rhinestones. Hoseok shook his small hand gently, trying hard not to coo at how cute they were.

“I’m Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you. Your set was one of my favourites.”

Jimin giggled, a faint blush appearing on his round cheeks. Victoria also stepped forwards, giving Hoseok a more adorable version of the boxy smile he’d seen before.

“I’m Taehyung.” He also outstretched a hand, and Hoseok also took note of the difference in styles as he shook it. Taehyung’s hands were large, with slender fingers and painted-red fingernails that matched the dress.

“Oh, man, your set was absolutely stunning, man.” Hoseok blurted out, excitement running through his body. “Everything just went together so well, and your dress is unbelievable.”

Taehyung chuckled, his nose scrunching up as he smiled and did a little happy dance. “Thank you so much! Me and Jimin make all of our outfits, so that’s high praise.”

Hoseok would’ve choked on his spit if Joon hadn’t walked in and patted him on the back.

“Jin, are you ready?”

“I just need to clean my face and then I’ll be done!” Seokjin’s voice came out from behind the screen and the man himself soon followed, pitch-black hair free of the wig. He was wearing a pink hoodie and black jeans, the hoodie's sleeves falling past his fingers.

“Oh! Thanks for giving me the shows, Jinnie. Uni was just hell last week.” Jimin said, carding a comb through his hair, which wasn’t a wig like Hoseok thought. The thin-toothed comb scraped through the layers of gel needed to keep the finger waves intact. “To be perfectly honest,” He grunted when the comb caught on a piece of gelled hair. “I would much rather rip my hair out doing this than write a 10,000 word essay for a class I fucking hate.”

“I hear ya.” Joon muttered, walking past Hoseok to help Jin pack up. The suit was gone, replaced by a knee-length black skirt and a grey shirt, purple hair loose from the hairband and falling to the left of their face. They had black knee socks on and ratty-looking black trainers on their feet. “I miss the essays, though.”

“Can you write my dissertation, then?” Taehyung piped up, a mischievous smile on his face. Hoseok laughed with Jimin and Joon when Jin mock-gasped and went on a short spiel about how even though his partner had a genius-level IQ they couldn’t use them for writing dissertations.

“You’re a fashion student, Tae. Joon was a music student.” Jimin piped up, hair finally free from most of the gel, some parts frizzy and fluffy. He tugged on a beanie to keep his hair hidden and rested his chin on the taller man’s shoulder, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach it. “I can help you with your essay.”

“You don’t know anything about fashion history, though.” Tae muttered as he grabbed Jimin’s arms and brought them to wrap around his waist, making him giggle. “It’s like me helping you with your dance routine.”

Hoseok perked up at that, turning his eyes towards the other couple. “You’re a dancer?”

Jimin nodded, pouting cutely. “Yeah. I need a partner for this project but all of the other people in my course have already grouped up.”

“I work in a dance studio. Do you have to work with a classmate?”

Jimin shook his head, eyes turning into crescents when he smiled. “Nope! When do you want to meet?”

“My schedule is Wednesdays and Fridays from 1pm to 3pm. Anytime after that would be great. Jay lets me stay in my area of the studio after hours.”

With a squeal, Jimin untangled himself from Taehyung and bounced over to Hoseok, pulling out his phone. “Here, put in your number and I’ll text you when I can go to the studio.”

Hoseok started typing in his number when another presence made itself known. Jungkook barreled in, out of his spiffy suit and in all black, a skin-tight black turtleneck under a black leather jacket, black jeans cinched tight around his tiny waist with a black belt, a few rips and tears in the fabric showing strips of light brown skin and the dips of powerful muscles. On his feet were well-worn black Timberlands, some of the leather scratched grey and faded.

“Anyone need a ride home?” He had a backpack hanging loosely from his hand, looking like a goddamn model and making Hoseok pause as he typed the last digits of his number.

“Me and Joon are going to dinner, and we live like two blocks down from here.” Jin finished swiping some moisturiser under his eyes, and then leaned down to grab his own bag from underneath his station.

“We’re taking the Tube. I don’t trust you driving.” Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jimin and picked him up, making him squeal. Hoseok jerked himself out of his handsome-man-induced stupor and finished typing in his number before handing Jimin back his phone.

“How about you drive Hoseok to his place? You’re the only one he hasn’t talked to properly.” Joon finished clumping up their hair into a messy bun, piercing-covered ears on show. “Don’t be shy, Kook.”

Hoseok gave Jungkook a tentative smile and the younger shrugged, smiling wide and bright, again giving Hoseok a look at those adorable bunny teeth. There was some shyness there, but there was also something that seemed like a desire to impress.

“Alright then.” He lugged the backpack up to his shoulder, walking out of the dressing room in two long strides.

“Ah, Hoseok, before you go, let me give you my number if you ever want to come over to my and Joon’s place for a meal.” Jin rattled off a series of numbers to Hoseok, who typed them down quick and easy.

“It was great meeting all of you!” Hoseok waved his goodbye with a big grin and ran after Jungkook. He’d forgotten how much he liked making new friends.

Erik Moses, NASCAR’s first Black track president, on the importance of representation — The Undefeated

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/nascar/erik-moses-nascars-first-black-track-president-on-the-importance-of-representation-the-undefeated/

Erik Moses, NASCAR’s first Black track president, on the importance of representation — The Undefeated

Erik Moses loves a good challenge. The former CEO of the DC Sports and Entertainment Commission and president of the DC Defenders of the XFL was named president of the Nashville Superspeedway in August 2020, becoming the first Black track president in NASCAR history. The track in Lebanon, Tennessee, will host its first NASCAR Cup event in 37 years during Father’s Day weekend.

Moses’ great uncle, John Kenneth Lee, was one of the first five Black students to desegregate the University of North Carolina School of Law in 1951. Now Moses, 50, is making his own history, looking to fill the stands at his track and to create greater diversity at all levels of the sport. At a time when NASCAR’s popularity is falling, Moses says more Black, brown and female participants and fans may be a key to the sport’s viability. “If you’re not growing,” he said, “you’re dying.”

Moses spoke with The Undefeated about why he likes racing, the possibility of hosting a historically Black college and university (HBCU) football game and what it means to be a pioneer in 2021.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

What have you come to appreciate about auto racing?

Everything. Many people try to argue that our drivers are not athletes, which is a foolish argument. All it takes is to get into a car one time to understand what it requires in terms of reflexes and hand-eye coordination. You realize these guys are going 150 mph with 39 other guys on the track, six inches apart on every side around you with a rearview mirror, no side mirrors and a guy in a tower with a pair of binoculars in your ear telling you where you can go and where you can’t go.

Nashville Superspeedway president Erik Moses on diversity in his sport: “We have to tell those stories so that those who are inclined to believe the stereotypes because of lack of knowledge can counteract those assumptions with facts.”

Jon Morgan Photography

That’s not even the beginning of it. The car gets built from a chassis to what you see on the track by a group of engineers and mechanics. That process is amazing to me, looking for any amount of advantage that will allow them to be fractions of a second faster than the competition. There’s so many details that are not visible to the naked eye if you have not been immersed in the sport.

What do you think your position and your track represents in Nashville?

Symbolism matters. I credit NASCAR for doing away with the Confederate flag, because for people like myself, and people not just of color but of conscience, that was a hard stop sign. Doing away with that has given people less reason to reject NASCAR out of hand without even dipping their toe in the water. Once you come out here, it’s way more diverse than people think it is. I’ve been pleasantly surprised how many brown people, young people and women I have seen at the track and in the pits. Folks will see that and have their eyes opened if they allow us the chance to give them some firsthand experience with the sport.

I’ve heard you’re interested in hosting an HBCU football classic.

I founded and developed the AT&T Nation’s Football Classic in D.C. and ran it for six years. We’ve got unique infrastructure in Nashville – a 70-acre grass infield where I can fit probably two football fields back to back. And then you’ve got 25,000 capacity in the stands and our luxury suites. The novelty of having a football game at a racetrack I think is something that can be very appealing.

What do you see NASCAR doing in terms of diversity and racial justice?

We just launched, and I am happy to be included in our diversity, equity and inclusion industry council. It is composed of folks from across various stakeholder groups: NASCAR executives, event promoters, some of our bigger partners like Coke and Anheuser-Busch and Toyota and Chevy, our broadcast partners at NBC and Fox, so it’s intended to include every kind of perspective and stakeholder who wants to see our sport grow and flourish.

A big part of it is telling people what we’re already doing and have been doing, showing people of color and women who have been in the sport for a long time. We’ve got to talk about Wendell Scott and what he meant to this sport and what he had to go through, and that throughline you see now with young people like Rajah Caruth, who is an up-and-coming racer on the ARCA Series. The kid saw the movie Cars when he was 4 years old and decided he wanted to become a race car driver. Hayden Swank out of Atlanta is another up-and-coming African American driver. We have to tell those stories so that those who are inclined to believe the stereotypes because of lack of knowledge can counteract those assumptions with facts.

Are there specific diversity initiatives that you’d like to see NASCAR tackle?

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I care a lot about small businesses and minority- and female-owned businesses and giving them a shot. I would hate if we were to end up being a sport that tried to do all it could to get ticket buyers into our venues to consume our sport but did not show ourselves willing to work with businesses owned by those same kinds of fans. You put your treasure where your priorities are. Supplier diversity, things like that matter in addition to hiring. Let’s not use the same old businesses to try to get to a different outcome. Say you have a marketing agency you’ve been using and it’s a general market agency. Well, that agency may have the same issues as it relates to diversity that you do. And now you want to go after broader racial, ethnic and gender diversity? Who’s to say they have any amount of skill or proficiency in doing that? Why not go to an agency that is accustomed to speaking in and to those channels in a way that you can measure and can see has worked in practice?

Berkeley sociologist Harry Edwards talks about the different waves of Black athlete activism, from first-wave activists like Jack Johnson fighting for legitimacy, through desegregation figures like Jackie Robinson, to 1960s social activists like Jim Brown to today’s generation powered by social media. Where is NASCAR on that continuum now?

The most visible participants in this sport are the drivers, and we only have one [Black driver, Bubba Wallace] at the highest level, so I think that drives the perception that the sport is not welcoming to people of color. Having more drivers of color and women will help to change the perception faster than anything else.

But I don’t think it’s fair to say we’re at the Jack Johnson stage, because that’s what Wendell Scott was in the ’60s. Now, the problem is we didn’t see the continuation of what he did, and part of that is, unlike boxing where you just need gloves, this is an expensive sport and so necessarily dependent on corporate dollars. What Wendell Scott was able to do on his own dime was just amazing.

We’re at a moment now where corporate America in many respects is trying to lead on issues of equality and social justice. Whether it’s Rajah or Hayden or any of these folks, they need the corporate dollars in order to show what they’re made of and how they can compete. I don’t know what makes a multinational, multibillion-dollar company decide, ‘I’m going to bet on that Black kid from Atlanta who’s driving race cars to get him to the Cup level.’

If a company bet on the right Black driver, wouldn’t that be gold?

You’d have a Tiger Woods or a Serena or a Naomi, but the fear for people like me is that you get to what I call ‘the Obama Standard.’ That as a person of color or somebody who is different you have to be superexceptional to get a shot. You can’t be good. You have to be superexceptional. And assuming there are people who have the capability to be superexceptional, they still need the investment and the opportunity in the sport. The Urban Youth Racing School is doing great work teaching kids from urban areas about cars, the driving part, and how they work and jobs in the automotive industry, and we need more of that. What I don’t want is every up-and-coming driver or female driver to have to be Barack Obama in order to make it.

That’s like other sports when leagues desegregated. There weren’t Black players riding the bench. You had to be a star to get a chance.

I do think we are past that in NASCAR. We’re not in a place where you have to be ‘the right Black’ or ‘the right woman.’ I could be wrong. But my gut is that that’s not where we are. If you can handle a race car, if you can drive, someone will see that talent and help try to nurture it. The challenge is, are you exposed enough that the right eyes get to see you as you’re coming up, and that folks who are interested in nurturing you have the resources to do so.

It’s the year 2021 and you’re a pioneer. How do you handle that?

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I’m not pursuing my career to make history. That said, representation matters. And I know that because of the communication I have received from getting announced for this job – friends and strangers saying what it means to them. I know it from going to the NASCAR Hall of Fame last October at Charlotte Motor Speedway and being escorted around and seeing a Black family in there, a mother, father and teenaged son, and thinking to myself, ‘Well, that’s cool.’ And then the father walked over to me and asked did I work in Nashville and was I the track president. This is during COVID. I had a mask on. And I said, ‘Yeah, I am.’ He said, ‘I thought so, my son noticed you as soon as you walked in. He follows you on Instagram. Can he take a picture with you?’ He brought him over and the kid has encyclopedic knowledge of NASCAR and wants to be an announcer when he grows up. So, what my having this role means to that kid is more important than me being able to say I was the first. It says to him that he can work in this industry, in an important role, and doesn’t have to worry about whether it’s possible because he’s seen that it is possible.

Andrew Maraniss is the New York Times bestselling author of “Strong Inside: Perry Wallace and the Collision of Race and Sports in the South.” His most recent book, “Games of Deception,” on the first U.S. Olympic basketball team at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, was published in 2019.

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A Jade post? In 2017?

I could write this post in my sleep because I’ve written 40 just like it, but I keep seeing posts about lack of Jade meta, so I guess I was a little ahead of my time and must now answer the call. If you’ve been following me for a while, you might as well keep scrolling. You’ve seen this all before in increasing tones of despair.

For everyone else, this aims to be a general overview of Jade Harley’s character, back when she was allowed to have one, looking at her issues and development. I’ll condense it a fair bit because none of us want to be here all evening, but feel free to ask me to expand on anything. I used to do this all the time.

Childhood

So let’s start at the very beginning. Jade’s home situation is revealed in pieces. Much like Dave’s, it’s played as less serious early on, with the ramifications and its impact on her personality not fully explored until later. (Jade never gets a big speech on the topic, so I fear it still went over some heads.) Over time, however, we learn that Jade has grown up alone save for a powerful dog, after her grandfather died... and she stuffed his corpse. (yuck.) She has had to fend for herself from a young age, plagued by occasional bouts of Vriska-induced narcolepsy to boot.

This has made her tough and self-sufficient. She’s one of the more capable and efficient Betas, shown when she takes charge near the tail end of their session. However, she takes it a bit far. When you’re a kid alone, no one is going to take care of you. You don’t have the luxury of hoping someone else will handle a problem, or getting bogged down in sadness or doubt. Jade takes this to the extreme of never allowing herself to express negative emotions. That’s not productive. That won’t get anything done. She’s happy happy happy all the time!!! (At least to her friends. More on that later.) 

She projects this onto her grandfather as well. Loneliness takes a toll. When Jade “encounters” her grandfather, she imagines him chastising her and has an argument with him, eventually concluding “he was much easier to deal with when he was alive”. Jade has placed a lot of her weighty expectations for herself on her grandfather, and she pretends he’s talking back to deal with her isolation. Additionally, she doesn’t know about Tavros’s interference, so as she grows older, she assumes Grandpa Harley killed himself, abandoning her to her fate. When she does learn about what happened, she blames herself. More on that later. 

Her constant cheer is particularly concerning when we consider one last detail that people also seem to forget a lot. Jade grows up knowing she’s going to die. She’s seen her own stuffed dream self, and while it may not be time stamped, she’d be able to gauge by her own height roughly how much time she has left. By the time the story starts, she knows she’s almost out. And when Tavros mentions that his dream self died in their conversation pre-Descend, she’s surprised. She didn’t know they could die. This means she didn’t think ‘oh, my dream self will die but it’ll be ok’. She thought she was going to die, full stop. But she kept up the cheerleader routine anyway.

Friendships

That segues into Jade’s personal relationships.  As I mentioned earlier, Jade refuses to express negative emotions. This is similar to John, but I’d argue John is less aware of what he’s doing. Jade knows all that dark stuff is there; she just keeps pushing it down. Instead, she acts as team cheerleader, encouraging all her other friends as they start playing the game. She tells John he can save the world, encourages Rose, and flatters Dave. Rose is the only one who pushes back a little - her comment about Jade being tough for surviving on her island suggests she might have grasped a little about her situation, and she probes a little - but Jade doesn’t give much away. John vacillates between being surprisingly perceptive and super not, and Dave tends to be absorbed in his own problems. Jade successfully keeps most of her life a secret. No one knows her grandfather is dead or that she’s alone. No one knows she’s going to die.

The person she’s most direct with, ironically, is Karkat. He hears her angry or upset, mostly because he’s not her friend. She doesn’t care what he thinks. It also seems likely, though, that she lost patience with him a long time ago. After all, from her perspective he’s been trolling them for a while, and her dismay the first time he contacts her suggests that he got on her last nerve a while back. (She gets her revenge later, showing that she doesn’t forgive him as fully as she claims during their session.) Still, it’s kind of tragic that she’s most honest with people she dislikes. As they grow less adversarial, she begins to cover more and more up. 

Karkat happens to be the character who catches her at one of her most vulnerable moments, which is...

Jadesprite

Alas, we hardly knew ye. Faced with the seemingly unbeatable boss that’s Bec Noir, Jade decides to prototype her dead dreamself in order to have a human intelligence armed with the power of a First Guardian. This... does not go as planned. Jadesprite is yanked out of the afterlife and put back into the game that traumatized and killed her. She’s hysterical and doesn’t seem to understand that John’s not dead, and she’s not thrilled about facing Jack again and probably dying in the process. This makes Jade furious. How dare this version of her not put the group’s safety over her own personal life and happiness? How dare she not be happy to be used as a tool? How dare she show fear, weakness, pain, anything but a constant eagerness to please? Jade flies into a rage because Jadesprite reveals every bit of weakness she has hidden within herself and has come to despise. This part of her was never supposed to see the light of day.

Of course, it doesn’t for long. Jadesprite shows up again for a handful of panels, which are mostly devoted to Davesprite exposition-dumping. It’s interesting to note that, while she’s more emotionally honest with him, the panel after he shows up, she’s back to the generic sprite-mode smile. She still can’t quite kick that urge to cover it all up.

Then, Jade God Tiers and absorbs Jadesprite as part of herself. She wastes no time in crushing her and everything she represents deep into a corner of her psyche. And she crushes hard. Jade mentions later that her memories of Jadesprite’s time in the bubbles is hazy, which is understandable. Bubbles are weird. But later, when Dave talks about his sword quest and Jade seems confused, he asks in exasperation, “didnt davesprite tell you anything?” And he did. He told Jadesprite information that should have made Dave’s explanation later clear. But Jade, it seems, has forgotten. Could be an authorial oversight, could be the passing of time... or could be a signifier of how hard she pushed away everything “tainted” by that ‘lesser’ version of herself. 

Yellow Yard

Hope everyone’s been enjoying themselves, because we’ve now left behind the chunk of the story where Jade gets to do much at all. She’s John’s emotional sounding board for the next three years and then spends the majority of the combo session possessed, dead, or asleep. Yes, I’m still bitter.

The fact that both of Jade’s appearances in the intermissions are focused on being a response to John’s complaining is fitting, though (besides revealing the author’s priorities), considering her role on the battleship is to do everyone’s emotional labor. I could write a massive post on battleship dynamics since I’ve had years to parse the roughly 5 sentences allotted to them, but I’ll keep it short for this post. John’s showing the strain by the first intermission (there’s a lot of subtext in the way he talks about that video game) but in general he’s missing his old life, chafing at having nothing to do, resentful of his role of “following orders” in the previous session, upset at himself  for being childish, and of course sitting on top of a simmering pile of repressed emotions he refuses to fully acknowledge. Davesprite is Sir Not Appearing In This Comic the whole time, but it’s clear he’s in a downward spiral due to his lack of a clear purpose, feelings of inadequacy, paranoia over his lesser/doomed status, and general self-hatred. Jade is the apparent ‘stable’ one. She tries to be supportive of John even as he gets increasingly nasty to her in his frustration, and she’s presumably doing her best to prop Davesprite up. Unfortunately, no one’s going to support her, because she can’t ask for help. She can’t show weakness. She has to be useful. Anything else means she’s a bad friend and a failure. So she just keeps going until she gets crushed under the weight.

It gets to her, though. By John’s 15th, she’s short with him and looks visibly annoyed in a few panels, which is unusual for her. And by the time they arrive, she heads off to deal with business without telling Davesprite where she’s going or even bothering to wake John up, which suggests she’s pretty sick of them. Still, she hasn’t given them a piece of her mind. Yet. Instead, she heads off without a word, right into the Empress’s trap.

Grimbark Mode

The Empress has been plotting for the arrival of the gods, and she gets to work. In moments, her two girls are under her control. Not only are they forced to do her bidding, but their worst impulses, desires, and repressed grievances are pulled to the surface. For Jade, this is primarily anger. Notice that she mostly lashes out at people who have wronged her. She kicks John, fabricates a reason to get Karkat stabbed (it’s strategically inadvisable to have Jane fork him, but Jade wanted to), and tries to goad Dave into a fight. Finally, all that fury is coming out. 

While talking to Roxy, Jade also reveals how much her hypercompetence issues affect her self-esteem. ‘once i was even more of a dork than you’, she tells her ‘but now i’m one of the most powerful beings in the universe’. The implication is that Jade considers her greatest asset her powers. Without them, without her ability to be useful, she’s nothing. Also in this conversation she says she’s the suckiest Jade there is, showing both her unhappiness with her current state and her deep seated self-worth issues (get in line, girl). These hypercompetency issues also fuel her fight with Jake. She arrogantly proclaims herself smarter and more powerful than him (Jade can be headstrong at times or disregard other people’s views; I’ve talked about that in other posts) but gets curbstomped because she refuses to back down from the fight or go straight for Aranea. She has been challenged, so she has to prove she’s the best... and she fails. 

Speaking of things I am still bitter about, I will never not be bitter about how grimbark mode (and crockertier mode) were handled. I was upset about my favorite character being mind controlled, yeah, but I defended it as a chance for character growth. When I saw grimbark mode, I thought, ok. This sucks, but this means Jade can’t hide anymore. It’s all out in the open. She had a guy killed, for crying out loud. Once she’s snapped out of it, she’s going to have to be honest about it. This is a turning point where she can finally tell people how she feels.

That... did not happen. Instead, Game Over did, and then the retcon, and my last hopes of Jade Harley getting decent character resolution fizzled and died. I don’t like talking about the retcon very much, so let’s make this last bit quick.

Post-Retcon

I’ll go through this fast, because it’s unpleasant. In our latest chapter of ‘Jade Harley gets fucked by the narrative because Andrew Hussie made her too op and also doesn’t care’, the retcon shifts things around so that John and Davesprite blow up soon into the trip, leaving Jade to travel the Yellow Yard alone. Accompanied by carapaces and Nanna, of course, but it’s never really acknowledged that she can interact with them, despite her growing up on Prospit. Why those two couldn’t have blown up immediately before arrival I’m not sure, considering how late retcon Roxy died, but fuck Jade, amiright? (Bitterness intensifies). Anyway, the part of this I find most egregious is that this doesn’t have as much of an impact on Jade’s character as it really should have. 

Let’s review. Jade derives a lot of her self-worth from being competent and helping people. She has had issues with loneliness in the past. She’s got some self-worth problems that she covers up with the knowledge that she has a lot of cool powers. So we blow up her two friends while she in all her God Tier and First Guardian powers is powerless to save them, and then she’s stuck alone stewing in her failure for three years, knowing she will have to face Dave and Rose and tell them what happened. 

Does it seem likely that Jade would pop out the other side of the fourth wall perky and enthusiastic? Hardly. With no witnesses left, I imagine she would have dropped the facade. Having failed her friends, if she didn’t believe the timeline was doomed, she’d probably double down on making sure it never happened again, devoting her time to leveling up and training to a greater degree than she did in the GO timeline. She’d emotionally distance herself from her friends in advance. After all, once she finds out what happened to Grandpa, she describes it as “basically my fault”, even though Grandpa let her play with guns and Tavros redirected the bullet. Part of her hypercompetency is a quickness to take responsibility even when she should not. She would blame herself for John and Davesprite’s deaths and assume Dave and Rose would as well. I imagine her trust in Skaia and a happy ending would also be shaken. The clouds never showed her this.

So Jade ought to be a mess. In canon, though, she really isn’t. Oh, she mentions to Calliope that she felt depressed. This is progress for Jade, admittedly, but in general she’s relatively the same as she always was. When she sees John, it apparently fixes that all up (setting aside his notorious issues with alt selves.) She does seem reluctant to process that Davesprite is essentially dead, repeatedly referring to D avepeta as Dave, but otherwise, she seems to slot into the new reality without a ripple. We do see a hint of the loneliness-based projection with her naming the consorts and making up stories about them, but that's mostly glossed over. And since Vriska knocks her out before she has a chance to do anything while grimbark (even deliver some nasty taunts), no one gets any indication of her suppressed anger, so no one’s prompted to ask her about it. In terms of repression, she’s cleared to continue. And, as far as we’re shown, she does. At least John gets to visibly show that he’s got issues in the credits. Jade’s a smiling background character. 

As the final insult on top of injury, Jade’s big contribution in Collide is getting punched. I’m not entirely clear as to why she’s trying to prevent PM from fighting Jack - she knows Jack is a threat and has worked against him in the past. But no, here she gets in the way until PM knocks her down. Another blow for a character who has built her self-worth upon contributing to the team. 

I have my (grim) thoughts on what Jade realistically would have turned into after all this. And honestly, you could write a ‘how the ending shafted character x’s development’ for most of the cast, but Jade is a special example because her shafting started after Cascade and never stopped. And it makes me sad, because she was my favorite, and the opportunities were RIGHT THERE to give her development and bring some of this to the surface, but the story never made the effort.

I could go into way more depth about any of this, especially her personal relationships, but this is already long and it’s late, so I will leave you with this single, simple truth: 

Jade deserved better. 

tell us about sa !!!

OKAY SO this ended up being way longer than i ever expected because i couldn’t stop talking about it and i have a lot of #thoughts tbh

@kt-bergs

first things first, it was a very small community theater production, the entire theater was pretty small, the stage and everything, and also it was the closing performance and so. Emotions were high for a lot ofit

secondly, the stage design was ?? so great. like i’ve watched a lot of productions of sa on yt and stuff, local and broadway, and i’ve never seen a stage designed like this. basically, the front of the stage was just basic, like wood that you walked on and it never really changed but most of the stage was built over a shallow pool of water with panels of differing sizes they could move and make it look like different locations and stuff etc, where the water would be visible sometimes and other times, like at the very beginning, you don’t even realize it’s not a normal stage. all of the panels could stack up on top of each other too to create like. higher parts of the stage?

also they had branches all throughout the top of the stage and hanging down off of the front over the audience. the aisles were used a l o t because this was a small theater. i sat right next to wear they came from back stage to go up/down the aisles with a big shit eating grin on my face for most of it, im sure most of them saw me lmao.

oh and they had people playing bobby maler/greta as well

i guess i’ll just do? a song by song rundown bc idk how else to do it tbh

mama who bore me wasn’t spectacular. it wasn’t bad, just nothing new tbh but wendla was fantastic

all that’s known and the scene leading up to it really didn’t have anything new either. moritz was good but since when do i think a moritz is bad tbh. melchior is really angry tbh. bobby brings him a mic on a stand instead of him pulling it out of his jacket

the bitch of living was so good tbh it all went dark except for moritz, who had a purple spotlight on him, and then as the rest of the boys joined they had rainbow spotlights. they pulled mics out of their jacket so im not sure why melchi didn’t in all that’s known but im ok with it. the spotlights were solid colored at first, but then they switched back and forth between being grungy-textured (i really dont know how to explain this tbh but it was like dotted shapes and stuff) and solid colors and thats mostly what i focused on lmao.

 when melchior joined in, they had lined up all their school chairs on the right side of the stage in a diagonal and faced him as they sang. they mention bobby maler and the guy who’s credited as bobby barely even reacted like they could have done more if they were going to bother casting a bobby.

my junk was pretty average too, except georg didnt have a piano and he just mimed playing piano on a table, but this is also where u see the first panel move bc of the water and i didn’t realize it was water at first, i just thought there was an opening in the stage tbh but then they removed a second panel at the end so there was like,,, a split in the center of the stage and u could see the reflectiveness of the water

the scene before touch me was so good tbh. when moritz talks about the “labia majora” (he didn’t pronounce it wrong which bothers me but its a character choice i guess so w/e) and frau gabor walks in he doesn’t notice at first and keeps going until he finally sees her, jumps a foot in the air and quickly sits on it. when he starts talking about the essay again after she leaves, he takes it out and dramatically checks to make sure she’s not coming back (like he leaned all the way back in his over his chair to check backstage)

moritz and melchior’s dance in touch me isn’t super gay at first. melchi just leans over the table and touches moritz’s hand while he’s feeling himself (as he does) and then moritz leaves. but when moritz comes back, he’s on the other side of the water divide and he and melchi grab each others arms over it and dance. pretty gay.

also in the scene where moritz is like “i passed!” he runs up the aisles and when he gets to the stage he leans up against the wall and it was really cute im still not over it but then when georg is like “are you sure”(i dont know if that’s the exact line but i have no memory ur lucky i remember this much) he does this like. weird tone of voice and when moritz says “yes im sure” he makes a face at georg and mocks his tone of voice. which is also cute and im still not over

the word of your body was pretty stationary tbh, but instead of having some chairs be a tree, they used a spotlight outlined like a tree

during the dark i know well, martha played acoustic guitar and it was so good im

(also by this point the stage was returned to just being a stage, like without the water parts) the beating scene was pretty typical as far as i remember. nobody laughed (thank god)

during moritz and his father’s scene, i’ve noticed a lot of productions don’t make it seem as serious as it could/should be but here it definitely was. moritz was audibly slapped multiple times and slams moritz down into a chair in the front of the stage.

frau gabor is brought out with a table and a chair across from him and he angrily sings and then there were none directly at her. the boys don’t come out and surround him, u just hear their voices but it highlights his thoughts and how he’s isolated

they didn’t have a hanging platform for mirror blue night. but the choreo made up for it tbh like it was still weird choreo but the boys are more incorporated liked they picked melchior up and held him above their heads and then when they put him down, they grabbed him until he shoved them off. idk it was cool but hard to describe.

i believe was typical as far as i remember tbh. they had chairs stacked up in the center and my mom was like “what’s that for” and i was like “i have no idea” but we guessed that maybe it was a hay bale to represent the hayloft. melchior put off more rapey vibes to me here than in some productions. also they didn’t unbutton wendla’s shirt but melchior ripped his off and underneath he was jacked and tbh i wasn’t ready i was sh ook and its all i thought about for most of intermission.

the guilty ones: the stage now has platforms moved so there’s a space of water on each side and a raised platform following it. the middle of the stage is normal level so it’s like there’s a step on each side. melchior and wendla were in the front and center, and interspersed throughout the stage were all the boys and girls paired off into four groups.

two groups of 2 girls + 1 boy, a group of a girl and a boy, and a group of two boys (but im like? pretty sure it wasn’t hernst so idk. i think i was georg and bobby but i? couldn’t see their faces very well). all the groups were like feeling each other up and kissing while they sang.

moritz comes in and i don’t do sadness starts out pretty typically. but when he stomps you can feel it bc the space is small so angst x10. when ilse comes on she looks like she’s just wondering through town, she pauses and looks at moritz for a sec and then she’s like “moritz??” and moritz runs all the way across the stage to hide from her on the steps so she can’t see the gun. he also moves her standing mic on stage when he comes back on. 

he and ilse sit in the center part and interact before she sings blue wind. the whole time she’s singing blue wind, moritz stays sitting and looks super conflicted but mostly like he’s about to just lose it crying. then they both sing. while they’re singing u know they both typically face forward and they do that some but they also ran at one another and sang directly at each other, holding their hands out towards each other but not touching. 

then as he’s telling ilse bye again, his voice is cracking like he really really wants to go with her but he’s just... done. ilse storms off and the suicide monologue is awful bc moritz’s voice is cracking the whole time and im dying in the theater. after moritz shoots himself, he runs off stage right.

martha and melchior come out and are upper stage left. martha has a guitar and is sitting on the ground. her guitar case is sitting in front of her. melchior has a standing mic. moritz’s dad is upper stage right and is reading a letter, getting progressively more upset. 

and moritz is in the center, on a raised platform in front of square of water. he’s got his school notebook and is writing in it and he’s in a pool of white light and he looks happy. as they bring their flowers up, each person stops and looks at moritz, some reaching out for him, before walking up in front of martha to drop their flower in her guitar case. as more people come up, moritz starts laughing and playing in the water, splashing it at first and then jumping in (the water is super shallow like feet deep) and he starts throwing the water on himself and washing his face with it and stuff.

then eventually moritz leaves. when he does, otto and georg take the platform and set it on top of the water he was playing in, like. sealing his grave. (and there’s me, in the theater, REALLY dying)

at the end of left behind everyone lined up on the back wall with their backs facing the audience and then melchior comes out blah blah and then it gets lit like honestly it was so GOOD. everyone was angrily jumping around (which you could hear and FEEL) and getting up in the front rows face tbh (i was not front row smh) and the spotlights went crazy over the audience, first white and then rainbow colors. there were pillars near the front row and ernst and another boy jumped on them and like humped the air idk. melchior’s facial expressions were great. he was p sarcastic tbh. it was 1 of the best totally fucked’s ive ever seen imo

the vineyard scene was great. people laughed at it but im pretty sure it’s just because a lot of them knew the actors tbh? there was an opening of water and ernst (who was so small im) sat on the platform behind it and played in the water while he talked about being a pastor. hanschen stood across the stage. when hanschen kisses ernst he like. gently lays him down and their kisses are long like rip my gay heart. as they leave they’re holding hands and hanschen pulls ernst’s hand really close to his heart and i died

during whispering, melchior stands behind wendla in a blue light with his hand on her shoulders and sings like... not echos of whispering but different lyrics that i unfortunately can’t remember but i do remember that they sounded threatening tbh

the reformatory boys were good and my mom was shook af about the circle jerk scene she looked at me like ?!? and then later she was like “i do not remember that”(from the boot i showed her) i  was like idk maybe if ud paid attention

during those you’ve known the entire stage was water except the front lip and 3 platforms, one for moritz, melchi, and wendla. melchior mostly walks/sits on the front lip until like almost the end of the song. moritz and wendla stand on two of the platforms from the beginning (with 1 platform in between them) and they’re stock still, like. statues. melchior pauses in front of moritz when he says moritz’s line. then he walks over in front of wendla. when moritz starts singing he like... jumps to like and looks around for a second and then looks at melchior and kneels. same with wendla. then it’s typical those you’ve known until melchior moves to the center platform and pulls moritz and wendla off their platforms and to his when he pulls them close. moritz and wendla look like they’re about to cry and im not sure if that’s bc it was closing night or if they actually were supposed to look like it tbh

now for the best part. the song of purple summer. the stage is entirely water now. some of the actors come up from the aisles as ilse sings and some come from back stage. they’re all in their costumes. ilse pulls off her shirt and underneath she’s wearing a bathing suit. they all strip down into bathing suits and they play in the water with each other, like slinging it at each other, smiling and laughing and hugging and crying and im emotional. at the end they all reached into the water and did like some movement but basically they slung water towards the audience rip

anyway the show was fantastic. i really dug the water stage a lot? like ive never seen anything like it and it was such a good idea?? and i know i didn’t explain it that well but t b h

also i spoke to the actor of moritz briefly after the show and he was crying and hugging all of his friends and when we went up to him to tell him that it was good he was like “oh my god thank you im sorry im crying but oh my god it means a lot” and it was really cute okay

anyway thanks for listening to me ramble on sorryy

Why Pirates of the Caribbean Didn’t Need Any Sequels

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Pirates of the Caribbean was never meant to be a franchise. Not really. Of course one could also argue the concept was never meant to be a movie either. Originally a theme park ride which opened at Disneyland in 1967, Pirates of the Caribbean becoming a movie is the kind of high-concept thrown around by Disney execs huddled at a conference table. Indeed, it was creative executives Brigham Taylor, Michael Haynes, and Josh Harmon who brainstormed the basic plot for a Pirates movie during the same period the studio greenlit The Country Bears and The Haunted Mansion movies. However, what made the eventual Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl a classic came from the type of creative inspiration Disney couldn’t anticipate or control… yet.

Released in 2003 with modest expectations from the Mouse, and even more cynical predictions by the rest of the industry, the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie ended up standing tall among the last of a dying breed: a surprise box office hit not based on a property with a built-in audience. Coming out at the crossroads of summer blockbusters being driven by practical and digital effects, and analogue filmmaking versus digital cinematography, the movie was released as an old-fashioned adventure yarn in the spirit of Errol Flynn with a modern twist.

Curse of the Black Pearl was not seriously set-up for sequels, prequels, or a shared universe, yet it would spawn all of them in one way or another. Still, in its most undiluted form, Pirates’ success was predicated on a creative spark from the filmmakers involved, chief among them director Gore Verbinski and actor Johnny Depp, which Disney could not stifle or curb. Instead the pair made a throwback quite unlike anything else in the marketplace, and its singular quality is also why its eventual sequels would, to varying degrees, fail to recapture that 2003 lightning in a bottle.

After being thought up by Disney executives, the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie incubated during a very different era for the studio. Disney’s live-action movies then released under the Sleeping Beauty’s Castle banner had long been struggling. Worse still, their animated movies were also beginning to falter with duds like Dinosaur (2000) and Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001) signaling the Disney Renaissance was over. Within this anxiety, Disney first hired Jay Wolpert and then Stuart Beattie to write screenplays between 2001 and 2002 for Pirates, even as the studio vacillated on what they wanted. For his part, Wolpert imagined his heroic Jack Sparrow to be played by Hugh Jackman (hence the name Jack), but the studio didn’t think he could carry a blockbuster solo. In fact, Disney wasn’t even sure Pirates was going to be a blockbuster.

On the one hand, the studio was approaching Matthew McConaughey to play Sparrow after the actor proved a solid team player on their Touchstone Pictures’ Reign of Fire—it also helped that executives believed McConaughey resembled Burt Lancaster, who just happened to star in the last successful Hollywood pirate movie… 1952’s The Crimson Pirate. But Disney was also considering shuttling the concept over to the direct-to-video market, with either Cary Elwes or Christopher Walken as Captain Jack. Aye, then-Disney CEO Michael Eisner had such cold feet on the project, and eventually about Depp, that he tried to stop production at the eleventh hour before cameras rolled in 2002, nervous because The Country Bears (starring Walken) flopped that summer.

But given the original setup for the picture in those early drafts, it is easy to see why there was a lack of confidence in the material. In its initial conception, Pirates of the Caribbean was intended to be a PG buddy comedy about a pirate named Jack Sparrow and his jailor Will Turner setting off to rescue the governor’s daughter; she’d been kidnapped for ransom by the dastardly Captain Blackheart, a generic baddie for a more generic plot. There were no twists or turns, Aztec treasure and curses, marooned islands, or the subversive streak cherished by the eventual filmmakers who discovered the heart of the movie was “sitting on a beach drinking rum.”

That inspiration luckily came in the quick turnaround of Dick Cook, the newly minted Walt Disney Motion Pictures Group chairman, convincing first Jerry Bruckheimer to produce the flailing Pirates of the Caribbean project and then, at Bruckheimer’s insistence, talking oddball actor Johnny Depp into starring in a Disney movie. Depp actually took the meeting with Cook to land an animated voice acting gig that would appeal to his children, but upon hearing the word “pirates” and the prospect of sword fighting, his ambitions for working at Disney quickly grew.

With a screenplay being hastily rewritten by new scribes Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio, who’d just come off Shrek and another all-time classic swashbuckler in The Mask of Zorro, Pirates of the Caribbean became a movie produced too quickly by a struggling movie studio to fully control, especially as its moving parts were transported to the actual Caribbean, including Elliot and Rossio, who continued rewriting the movie on-set to director Gore Verbinski’s specifications. For context, Verbinski’s biggest hit at that time was the decidedly not-family friendly The Ring.

“To make this film in under a year from an outline, it was really essential to bring them in,” Verbinski said about Elliot and Ross during his Curse of the Black Pearl audio commentary. The director had the writers’ shrewd intuition, which added a supernatural curse that upped the movie’s CG-spectacle for modern blockbusters and made it more in line with the Disneyland ride, as well as the ability to add narrative and verbal complexity on the fly.

Said Verbinski, “In looking at the genre and saying, ‘Why hasn’t it worked?’ I found a lot of the sort of dialect [in recent pirates movies] didn’t feel like it was really from Robert Louis Stevenson. You know, the ‘Black Spot,’ any kind of that pirate flavor out of Treasure Island. It sort of went away.”

With Pirates of the Caribbean, it came back with a vengeance. Released eight years after Renny Harlin’s lackluster Cutthroat Island failed at modernizing pirate movies by way of ‘90s aesthetics, Verbinski and Depp brought the old-fashioned wonder of Stevenson and Golden Age Hollywood pirate movies of yore roaring back. While the film’s marketing revolved around the then-cutting edge CGI effects of cursed men who in the light of the full moon turn into skeletons like they’re right out of some Disney park attraction, the reason the movie is still extraordinarily satisfying nearly 20 years later is because of what occurs outside these relatively limited digital set-pieces.

Narratively and visually, Verbinski and his merry crew of filmmakers pulled from Michael Curtiz’s classic Captain Blood (1935), which is likewise set around the escape of an imprisoned pirate with a brand on his flesh at the British Port Royal colony in Jamaica. Several scenes, like the decidedly PG-13 levels of roustabout action on the island of Tortuga, are even lifted directly from that movie. Others, like when Jack Sparrow and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) sneak aboard an enemy ship while breathing underwater in a capsized rowboat, are taken shot-by-shot from the much goofier Crimson Pirate.

But more than just paying homage to classic pirate movie iconography, the original Pirates of the Caribbean recaptured those earlier movies’ mirthful sense of adventure. The “dialect” Verbinski refers to is not resurrected by Depp’s idiosyncratic Jack, but it oozes out of stage thespian Geoffrey Rush. A classically trained character actor, Rush leans hard into the hard-Rs of his speech, all but literally muttering “argh.” He leans into every pirate stereotype and makes a feast of the scenery while doing so. Verbinski even joked he only wanted Rush because Alec Guinness and Peter Sellers were dead: that old school charisma is what turned this potential “paycheck” role into one every bit as essential in recapturing swashbuckling fun as Depp’s.

The same could be said for so many of the other elements, from the use of actual on location shooting (and in the Caribbean for parts of the movies unlike the Californian coasts used by Captain Blood) to at least one actual replica of an 18th century merchant vessel—The Lady Washington, redressed to look like the Interceptor in the film. The other two major vessels in the movie, the Black Pearl and Dauntless, were at least built two-thirds to scale on sea barges while CG filled in the rest.

And despite it being her breakout role, Keira Knightley’s performance as Elizabeth Swann is often overlooked. At only the age of 17, Knightley holds her own against co-stars Depp and Rush, and creates a compelling protagonist who is visibly working the angles of her situation in every scene. In lesser hands, Elizabeth could’ve been blandly innocuous, the “love interest,” but in the finished film she drives the plot, convincingly outsmarting Barbossa and Sparrow at every turn. And while performing the functions of an old-fashioned Hollywood love story, Knightley’s screen presence turned her into a star just as readily as a teenage Olivia de Havilland became one after Captain Blood.

But then that first major Hollywood pirate movie was on Verbinski’s mind during the production of Pirates of the Caribbean, both in how that 1935 movie’s swashbuckling scope made its director and two leads A-listers, and also in how he could subvert its tropes now in the 21st century.

“I knew the film could support [Depp’s performance] because Orlando’s doing Errol Flynn,” Verbinski said. “I mean if you look at Jack Davenport [as Commodore Norrington] and even Orlando’s performances, on their own they’re really solid, but in context they’re fuel for [Depp] to consume.” And consume them he did.

Captain Jack was always meant to be the amorous hero of Pirates of the Caribbean, a mischievous Han Solo to Will Turner’s Luke Skywalker that gets to kill Darth Vader at the end. But as screenwriter Elliot surmised in 2003, “The characterization, the personality of Jack is what we wrote. The expression of that is purely Johnny Depp.” He’d swing from pulleys like Flynn, but do so while screaming in bloody terror. He was a familiar narrative archetype, but as singular an anti-hero as Hollywood has ever seen.

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A performer best known for eschewing his handsome good looks at this time in favor of prosthetics and off-center performances like in Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood, Depp was not an obvious choice for the role. But at Bruckheimer’s insistence the character actor was in, and when he first met with his director Verbinski, the only thing the filmmaker was certain of is that Depp would play against his good looks.

Thinking back on their first meeting with affection, Verbinski recalled, “[He] said, ‘I don’t think Jack has a nose because he lost his nose in a sword fight, but it got sewed back on and it’s blue because the circulation is bad.’” It was a radical choice, one certain to die once Disney executives heard it, but it indicated the kind of subversive streak Verbinski thirsted for—one that could bounce off an old Hollywood aesthetic.

Said Verbinski, “This was in the infantile stages of the Bruckheimer and Dick Cook experience, and Synergy back home is talking about McDonald’s cups and happy meals. And on the third bottle of wine at a restaurant in London, we’re talking about a nose being sliced off.” It was the counterbalance the movie needed, and the type of creative-leaning these two eccentric talents gravitated toward. In Verbinski’s mind, Bloom must be D’Artagnan in The Three Musketeers so Depp can play the rock star (Keith Richards to be exact). It also freed Depp up to improvise lines where he pondered if Will Turner, or the entire male population of France, were eunuchs. “You have to pervert the genre at almost every opportunity,” said Verbinski.

Yet perversion is not exactly a word that comes to mind with Disney. Not before 2003, and not soon afterward. But in the fast turnaround on a pirate movie in 2002, Verbinski and Depp could be quite perverse with the material, although not without pushback. For example, while the studio accepted Bruckheimer’s insistence that a pirate movie needed to be PG-13—a first for a Disney movie released under the studio’s official banner—there was immediate repulsion when Depp showed his personally selected wardrobe for Jack Sparrow, complete with five teeth capped to look like a golden grill in front. Depp was instantly summoned to a meeting with Bruckheimer and Cook.

“Three went away and then I secretly added one,” Depp said in 2003. “But the two that went away were the ones I used as bartering material.” In a 2010 interview, Depp later clarified how much concern there was over his performance as the dailies rolled in.

“They couldn’t stand [Jack],” Depp said. “I think it was Michael Eisner, the head of Disney at the time, who was quoted as saying, ‘He’s ruining the movie.’” Depp even referred to several executives as “Disney-ites” who feared he’d turned their heroic pirate into an openly gay character. “[They were] going, ‘What’s wrong with him? Is he, you know, like some kind of weird simpleton? Is he drunk? By the way, is he gay?’ And so I actually told this woman who was the Disney-ite; ‘But didn’t you know that all my characters are gay?’ which really made her nervous.”

According to Verbinski, Eisner even panicked when he saw a daily of the final shot of the movie, with Jack caressing the phallic-shaped handles of the Black Pearl’s steering wheel.

These were bold and bizarre choices made by both Depp and Verbinski at the peak of their creative talents. Today, it’s easy to forget how transgressive Depp’s Captain Jack appeared at the time, particularly after he turned Sparrow into a paycheck-generating caricature during the fourth and fifth Pirates of the Caribbean movies. But in 2003, the character was brazenly unlike anything any studio would put at the forefront of a summer tentpole, least of all Disney. For that matter, it’s impossible to imagine such creative mojo being left unchecked on a Disney tentpole today, not when the studio has turned superhero movies into a finely tuned assembly line, and still seeks to do the same with Star Wars.

Of course the changing tides were imminent in ’03 too. Ahead of release, Verbinski, Elliot and Rossio, and the armada of filmmakers attempted to make the ultimate pirate movie. The director even mused there were only five types of pirate stories to be told: buried treasure, building a crew, marooned anti-heroes, kidnapped damsels, and the good-man-turned-scoundrel. Pirates of the Caribbean did them all in a single movie, complete with Aztec curses.

But shortly after principal photography wrapped, and even as Disney executives privately stewed over what Depp was doing to the movie, the studio quietly added the subtitle “The Curse of the Black Pearl,” signaling they wanted sequels. Yet considering the kitchen sink approach to every classical trope being honored and subverted in the original movie… did there really need to be a sequel?

In retrospect, no. Admittedly there’s quite a bit in the second Pirates movie to enjoy: Verbinski and cinematographer Dariusz Wolski’s sun-drenched photography of Caribbean locations was back, as was Penny Rose’s historically authentic costuming, and of course Depp. But the script was looser; and though the CGI was impressive with the motion-capture performance of Bill Nighy as new heavy Davy Jones and the giant tentacles of a Kraken, which harkened back to another Disney favorite, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the more enmeshed the franchise became with CG-spectacle, the more it got away from what made the first a brilliant throwback.

The initial Pirates sequels also fell prey to the franchise fad of the early 2000s. Before gritty reboots or “shared cinematic universes,” the buzzword in studios offices was “trilogy.” While the original Pirates was a blast of creative energy put into one film with no setups or dangling plot threads, it was released in an era when Lord of the Rings, The Matrix, and the Star Wars prequels dominated the box office; even superhero movies were haphazardly trying to jump on the fad via X-Men and Spider-Man rushing awkward threequel finales.

But no matter how grandiose composer Hans Zimmer’s score became, Pirates of the Caribbean was not Lord of the Rings, and trying to force that square peg into a round hole triggered diminishing returns. While the second movie had fun developments like Davenport’s Norrington becoming a major character who washed out of the British Navy and was now a disgraced pirate crossing swords with Depp and Bloom during a spectacular three-way sword fight, the third film had no clear vision of what to do with him after a cliffhanger ending. So he was unceremoniously killed off. I’d even argue the third movie didn’t know what to do with any character to match the franchise’s sudden pretensions. So Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner, designed to be classic happily-ever-after types in the vein of Captain Blood, are unconvincingly morphed into tragic star-crossed lovers with an ending that reaches for the majesty of J.R.R. Tolkien. By trilogy’s end, they’re doomed to see each other only one day per decade. It wants to be mythic, but it’s really bloated melodrama.

Still, it was better than what came afterward. Realizing there was yet more money in the Pirates brand after the trilogy concluded, Disney churned out two more movies where everyone but Depp and Rush were gone. Gorgeous 35mm cinematography was replaced by bland digital photography, on-location shooting in the Caribbean was kept to a minimum, and the performance that once got Depp an Oscar nomination became a phoned-in parody of itself. Even the characterization of Jack is off, with the resourceful pirate tactician everyone mistakes for a fool turning into a fool everyone inexplicably mistakes for being clever.

In this way, all the elements that made the original so refreshingly lovable were run aground, much the same way Disney’s modern attempts to repeat the narrative beats of George Lucas’ once revolutionary Star Wars movies from earlier decades had led to a recycled emptiness by the time we reached last year’s Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. The creative transgressions of Verbinski and Depp in their prime were sandblasted and smoothed by a studio system that’s only become better at dulling the edges of any and every intellectual property. Just ask Phil Lord and Chris Miller, the original directors of Solo: A Star Wars Story.

The fifth and final Depp-led Pirates of the Caribbean movie attempted to use prequel elements wherein audiences met a de-aged Jack Sparrow winning battles in his youth. But by then audiences had tired of the shtick. So Disney now seeks to reboot the brand with Margot Robbie in the lead. Undoubtedly her maiden voyage in the franchise will be loaded with easter eggs and dangling setups for sequels and spinoffs, and perhaps even a shared universe of Pirates movies. It’ll surely make for a smoother transition than the original movie had to indefinite expansion. And yet, I suspect the standalone quality of the first is what will always make it the most valuable treasure buried in this franchise’s sea.

The post Why Pirates of the Caribbean Didn’t Need Any Sequels appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Jack Frost University - Issue #2

Jack Frost University - Issue #2 8/4/2018

This morning I was on my way to McDonald's to buy a mocha and then head off to Chautauqua to meditate for a few hours when I noticed what appeared to be a crow or a raven dying in the middle of the street. I had to swerve my car to keep from running him over. He was struggling so badly and looked so wounded that I knew he was going to die. I circled back around to make sure it was a crow or a raven that I had seen because I knew it could be symbolic of something and that the Universe might be trying to give me a message. This is what makes me stand out from the 9-5 job seeking, pill popping, commute driving, 3-dimensional freaks that make up most of the population of the United States. I'm willing to slow down my life style to the point where I'm willing to break the normal routine, pull a couple u-turns and spend five minutes to confirm the kind of bird that was dying in the middle of the street so I know exactly what the Divine Mind is trying to tell me.

I did confirm the kind of bird it was. It was definitely in the corvus family. I assume it was a crow because of it's size. Crows are smaller than Ravens. Crows are about the size of pigeons and the corvus I saw in the street was definitely the size of a pigeon. You can also tell the difference between a crow and a raven by observing their physical characteristics, their call, their strut and how they travel together. Ravens often travel in pairs while crows are seen in larger groups. Crows give a cawing sound while ravens produce a lower croaking sound. A raven's strut will from time to time be punctuated by two-footed hops. (This is according to audubon.org) When in flight ravens ride the thermals and soar whereas crows do more wing flapping.

Once I confirmed it was a crow I bought my mocha and then headed up to Chautauqua to meditate as planned and to search google to figure out what the 'Universal Intelligence' was telling me about crows dying within my visible perception. The ambience is so amazing at Chautauqua. Everyone who attends Chautauqua is there for leisure which is what makes it so enjoyable for empaths or people who are sensitive to the energy emitted by others. Being an empath I feel other peoples energy and so I try to surround myself with positive, happy people. It started to sprinkle rain but I love the rain so it didn't bother me one bit. I found a table umbrella, the kind they use at restaurants, and wheeled it over to my meditation spot so I could stay dry. I punctuated my meditation time with bursts of google searches. As always I have to filter out the data I find on the internet by considering my own personal experiences following the Supreme Intelligence and a bit of common sense.

Corvids are highly intelligent beings. They are the most intelligent animal on the planet. The Baboon is very intelligent as well but after watching an episode on the Discovery Channel where a baboon was smelling his fingers after wiping the sweat from his balls I've decided to never mention that nasty creature ever again. This is the reason why Odin was associated with ravens, because he was known as a god of very high intelligence, magic and science. Of course he would adopt the raven as his symbol or corporate logo, because he too was known as the most intelligent being on the planet. Corvids are so smart they employ humans to do their labor. It's been said that corvids will carry a walnut to a busy intersection and drop it off so that cars will run them over and split the shell from the walnut. Then they wait patiently for traffic to cease so they can walk out in the street to capture the walnut. They've also been known to lead predators such as coyotes to a dead animal so that the coyotes may puncture the carcass allowing them to eat. Not many animals are smart enough to employ humans. This can be compared to Odin employing the highly intelligent alien greys to work for him and do his bidding.

The crow is symbolic of death and rebirth, transformation, change, magic, sorcery, knowledge and wisdom. They are symbolic of enchantments, spells, espionage, deception and mystery. There is a lot to be said about corvids. I do not want to repeat them all because I am creating a new Universal Spirit Language Matrix based on my own experiences. I know there is a lot to be said about the symbolism of corvids and how their presence in our lives can be interpreted but the language I'm creating must be based only off my own experiences.. Side note: Do you ever refer to a pride of lions, a school of fish or a wisdom of owls? These are called collective nouns which are names of a number (or collection) of people, animals, or things taken together and spoken of as one whole.  It is of good fortune that I had not been visited by a 'murder' of crows, only one single crow. I need not wipe the sweat from my brow. Nobody has been murdered and nobody is going to be murdered. That's always nice to know. Seeing a dead or dying crow can also be symbolic of an impending death of an important figure in your life.

The number of crows that you see along your walk of life is also significant. One crow may indicate one thing while two or more crows seen together can indicate something entirely different. I had a bunch of crows visit me while I was camping out about five years ago. I do not remember if it was late at night or early in the morning but the message I received at the time was indicating transformation. Shortly after was when I started my own business selling items on eBay. The time of day that you encounter crows could be important as well. Morning time could have one meaning while evening could have a separate meaning. My consciousness had not yet been elevated to the point where I could hear 'GOD' speaking through the animals and so I did not think to count the number of crows that had come to visit me. For those of you who have been extracted from the four dimensional lifestyle and don't need a pastor, preacher or boring church service to deliver divine messages to you as you repeatedly stand up and down during your mind control ceremonies and want to learn how to let the Universe speak to you through stones, tarot cards, animals and nature I offer you the following suggestion. The next time you witness a dead or dying crow in your walk of life take note of the following. Is the crow already dead or is it in the process of dying? How many crows are involved? Is it a crow or a raven? What time of day is it? Morning, afternoon or evening? If you pay attention to these signs you will be able to extract the message from the Universal Intelligence.

As for me I believe the Universe is trying to tell me that this is the end of bad things and the beginning of all things new and good in my life and that the worst is behind me. This falls in line with the bind-rune symbol that I received while chilling out in my pentagram of fire back in Loveland, Colorado with Silas Cabal. One final thought for you to digest. Just think, somewhere out there is a grey alien who is witnessing the death of a human and he is trying to figure out what message the Divine Mind is trying to deliver to him. ;)

[7/10/17][prose][SF] Broadcast

[Author’s note, Oct 7 2015: This is the version I handed in for my dissertation piece for my BA degree at uni :) I’m sure I’ll read this in a few years and tear out my hair at how awful it is or something, but for now, this is the version I’m making available. Let me know what you think :) Enjoy~ ] ——————————– Broadcast Perhaps it would have gone differently if the supervisor’s earplant programming had included the politeness to knock before entering, rather than plugs that only gave him better coding and managerial skills. As it was, Karvinen was caught with his beautifully sculpted virus blasting out of the projector screen while it happily and extremely visibly ate its way through the delicious strands of the Game’s code. Luckily the bionic supervisor was still human enough to gawp for some useful moments, allowing Karvinen the chance to panic and fire a volley of sleep-spines into the man’s neck. ‘Oh wonderful.’ He typed a brief summary of the incident to Sisu and grimaced at the reply; the supervisor’s sudden unexplained lapse into his sleep-cycle had been noted by TyCorp’s monitor system. As Karvinen sat contemplating their sleeping colleague, TyCorp Agents were moving to this office. They would be better-armed and, more importantly, better ‘planted than his supervisor, and they were on their way to see whether there was an emergency situation. A virus eating through the most profitable and powerful piece of technology on the planet - he supposed that might technically count as an emergency. One puny spine pistol wasn’t going to make much of an impression compared to what they would be carrying. Sisu pinged him for response, and he gave the screen another frown before klacking out a confirmation – they would have to resort to their back-up plan. Sisu pinged back her acknowledgement and wished him luck. Her screen and the projector went white like two, blind eyes. He had about three minutes to get out. Karvinen stumbled off of his chair, having trouble aiming his legs. As he passed the frame, the door noted his departure and slid itself shut, locking itself diligently. Old Tybalt himself had suggested his promotion into the rooms closest to the core. Karvinen could feel it buzzing itself up to a temperature which would cause it to act like a small bomb as he walked past its little room. He headed across the landing and onto the back stairs of the building with a calm that surprised him . Here on the dimly lit stairwell he could distantly hear the Call for All Agents spreading out across the corridors. As he moved upwards he knew that his heart sat in its evolved cushion in his left breast and was being told by electrically controlled chemicals to pump his blood around faster. This was as a result of the stress of getting caught, but it felt like it dangled heavily in ropes suspended from his throat, cuffing his lungs with each swinging beat. He felt his knees stumble as he came up the last of the stairs and he abruptly found himself on the floor with a ringing noise dying in his ears. He let himself enjoy the cool stone beneath his cheek in the dim, honey-soft glowlamp light for a few seconds, then stood warily. In front of him, through a door’s sigil-embossed frosted glass, he saw the distorted shapes of Agents sprinting past and saw them fading into the elevators that adorned each side of the unmanned atrium. He waited until he was certain the room on the other side of the door was empty, then showed the polished scanner his card. The door slid open for him happily – Security’s gaze was entirely focussed on a place deep within the facility, where a small black cube at the Game’s core had suddenly become so scalding it glowed, shaking itself erratically and splitting cables with the effort. Compared to that, what did it matter if someone with the right card wanted to get through a door? The outer doors let him pass as well, but these hardly had security on them. This didn’t mean they were liable to be breached, however. All employees lived in a walled off village created for them by the company and were stripped of their identity plugs. Every citizen was required to have their ID plug on them at all times as part of the rules of the city. The plugs were kept by TyCorp until the employee either died or somehow miraculously rose through the ranks to a place of trust within the company. That meant they owned your life. You couldn’t leave, and you relied on the facility to eat and to afford to play the Game without poisoning yourself in some bootlegger version. Anyone who was stupid enough to try to break into the facility or destroy any of the equipment were never seen again. No, as Karvinen knew first hand, if someone wanted to cause any damage to TyCorp, it would have to be far more subtle than marching in through the front door with a pipe-bomb. Karvinen was not born in this city, but in a more permissive city to the far north west. He had known enough not to fight them as they took his plug, though. Soon enough he gained the esteem and trust of the company and had it returned to him. He become an essential part of the programming and hardware engineering teams. During the months he spent ‘proving his loyalty’ he learnt the code of the Game from the perspective other hackers had yet to ever access - from the inside. The people of this city were not brought up to distrust their elders or to break rules. They gave up their existence to the company rather than break the social norm. Rather than be rude! Every few years one or two of the people trapped inside the perimeter would inevitably snap and try to escape. The Agents made light work of them. After what seemed like a long time, Karvinen realised his feet had already taken him through the village of apartment blocks that clustered around the towering TyCorp facility building. He had numbly passed the outer gates of the perimeter and was away along the wet, moon-lamp lit street. A short, low, grumble from the direction of the facility told him that the Security Agents hadn’t managed to temper the exploding core. He and Sisu had made sure it would destroy itself and as much of the Game’s main circuitry as it could. The more it destroyed, the easier their task. The blurry buzz of panic that had pushed into his ears quietened and let him move a little quicker and without shaking. This was the first time Karvinen had left the perimeter wall for nearly a year. Neither he nor Sisu had been certain that the core would get enough of the Agents away from their posts atop it. He put his hand out in front of him and saw that it was held in a shaking fist. He could feel the bite of the two ID plugs against his palm, his own, and Caroline’s, the only thing he had left of her. Now that he had successfully escaped the perimeter, he needed to get down to the warehouse on the fifth level. The facility was on the second highest level of the city, the only pylons above it being those that supported the richest families’ houses and gardens. This level was laid out like a cog, with a pylon at its centre that was the main protection for the continued elevation of the level above. It also acted as a conduit for the official transport system between each of the levels. Karvinen could see an elevator sparkling against the base of the pylon. He managed to stop his contemplation of the plugs and push his legs towards the pylon. Though the richest families controlled so much of the happenings of the city, they had yet to completely secure their fingers around the throat of nature. The Earth kept clinging to the last vestiges of its time honoured traditions; the sea, however full of layers and layers of microplastic waste, was still able to produce clouds that spread out across the Earth and plunged its cities into regular torrential periods of grey. The special filter systems that kept the water pure for those that could afford them did not stop the chemical rain from hissing and steaming out grooves and dips in the streets. The weak plastic of his mac was already starting to crease. Karvinen kept his head turned downwards so his face was protected by the hood. The streets were empty. The androids remained at their posts and the poor were in their more secure hiding spaces lower in the city. Not that there were many who wanted to leave their hovels these days. The Game was not something easily walked away from. Karvinen came to the end of the rain-pocked, flooding street where an old tramline sat unused and headed towards one of the dry elevators. He stepped in and punched his destination with relief, feeling a minute easing in his chest. ‘Welcome, Sebastian Karvinen. We will be at level five shortly.’ Karvinen jumped, and as the elevator moved down he could feel one of the plugs grow warm in his clenched hand. It had recognised his plug. ‘That’s probably not good.’ * As the ersatz core exploded in the lower reaches of the TyCorp building, Sisu jacked into the shell and checked her facilities. Facility check was in progress. The drought which had until now persisted for more than a decade and turned the earth surrounding the city to sand dunes had finally broken. The city was drowning in monsoon water. Facility check was 35, 36 percent complete. Beginning secondary system activation. It was to be noted that the shell that Sebastian Karvinen had handcrafted for her first day of Awake, was now upon its second use encased in a transparent plastic that might hinder movement. It was also to be noted that this plastic had damaged the successfully skin-like polymer casing on this shell. It was now discoloured into greys and pale mushroom brown. Considering the acidity levels of the rainwater, the casing was liable to further degradation. It was unlikely that the shell would pass for human for very long. 76, 79 percent completion. The Core was confirmed destroyed: moving to ‘Plan B’. Primary Virus Core was online and held the viral programming with no problems. PVC nested in the shell’s primary circuit board like a cuckoo’s egg. It was quite happy to be there until it hatched, at which point it would kick out any foreign code surrounding it. With the destruction of her core in the TyCorp facility, this shell was the only one she had left, in the city or otherwise. Facilities check 100 percent complete. Please Ping for orders if required. The shell was viable, and Sisu did not require secondary orders, so did not Ping. The eye-coverings opened with a quiet click and Sisu’s tests implied the warehouse was dark. She pushed the circuitry clipped along the shell’s limbs into life with a surge of electricity. Sisu moved the shell’s fore-limbs out against the casing surrounding it and broke through the brittle plastic barrier, using the fingers to peel it from the shell. She stepped her lower limbs sideways along a row of various unknown objects and accidentally brushed against one or two. They tumbled to the floor before her with a crash. Upon sensing the movement, the warehouse’s security system expressed a short and dull humming noise, which became an insistent alarm in a frequency below unaided human hearing. A beam of light swept across the warehouse and, upon confirming movement, the security system turned the main lights on and locked the doors out of the place. * ‘Thank you for making use of me, Sir. Have a safe evening!’ The Elevator slid smoothly up and away through its metal chute, taking the light with it and leaving Karvinen alone to move through the wet. Compared to the tall-walled company buildings and sculpted living spaces of the second level, the buildings in the fifth level were slums. Down here in the lower reaches of the city, each level cuddled up close to its father level below it. The fifth level was filled with abandoned markets, warehouses and a plethora of empty shops and merchant’s abodes, none of which had to be very tall before they were touching the bottom of the fourth level above. Everywhere here was flooded with monsoon water. Karvinen started to move towards the warehouse where he had stored Sisu’s shell. From there they could go down to the bootlegger’s cathedral together and implement the virus. They had been forced to abort the original plan to destroy the Game from inside out. That meant Karvinen and Sisu had to implement the virus from the outside in. This involved one of them jacking into the Game. Under normal circumstances this would not be a dangerous task. The official Game units dealt with and regulated the bodily functions of the player with sophisticated nano-robotics which meant a person could safely never leave the virtual Universe. But these Game pods, with their high-tech life support systems, were far too expensive for any but the wealthiest citizens. That was why so many bootlegged versions were available in the lower levels of the city. An attempt had been made to replicate the tailored and efficient support systems of those official Game pods. Sure, they kept you from needing to stop to eat or use the facilities, but not indefinitely. The bootleg game halls just pumped you full of chem and sugar substitutes. You would function well enough to play and you would not feel any pain, but the poisons that would usually be excreted from the body build up. Accelerated by the low-grade saccharine most halls used, within the space of a few days the player was unknowingly playing while their organs failed and bled out. The last to go was eyesight, but by that time the player was unconscious anyway. The brain in its final moments was merciful in that respect. The chem had no effect on Sisu though. The shell she was puppeting to move the virus to the cathedral was immune to their effects. Her program was stored in a hidden bunker out in the Wastes, a desert that surrounded the city. From there Sisu could inhabit one shell at a time just as those jacked into the Game could inhabit one character at a time. The core in the TyCorp facility had been one of her shells. Exploding it would not have harmed her, just as the chem that the pods down here would pump into her shell would not harm her. Karvinen had built Sisu’s program himself, more out of loneliness that any desire to use her destructively. The Game had taken everything from him. It had taken Caroline, the only person who truly understood and listened to him. In a daze of grief and depression, he had tried to recreate some semblance of her in an A.I.. Sisu was the result. Caroline’s circumstance had become commonplace in the city. No one thought the Game would affect them as it had so many others. They played the trial, messed about with character creation, then, before they knew it, they had spent an hour choosing the perfect nose shape, another hour on hair styles and two on dying armour. They had become, as the media had put it before most of them too had succumbed, Enthralled. Now all human endeavour had been replaced with the grind for experience points; the acquisition of the latest pets and armour, the newest weapons. Guilds within the Game would feud over digital castles, while in the real world the weeds grew high enough to knot with one another over the tops of apartment blocks. That was why it was rare these days for the streets to have any human traffic on them. The androids and their trash trams sometimes seemed to be the only inhabitants of the city. As Karvinen moved down the street towards the square where the little warehouse sat in its squalid acid-proofing, he saw there was a sparse market here as well. When he turned the corner into the square he saw several policemen hovering about the warehouse, and amongst them, one of TyCorp’s Security Agents. Surprisingly, there were people in the square. They were surreptitiously watching the police from the nearby market stalls. Karvinen wasted no time joining them, affecting interest in the chem and spare parts laid out for sale. The idea of being spotted by an Agent made his stomach twist with nerves, but he had to see if Sisu was safe. What if she had already been caught? Above the din of haggling vendors, Karvinen heard the warehouse owner call out. The man first screeched a wave of Turkish, then Chinese syllables, before stumbling into broken English: ‘He didn’t tell me thing was live, how I know? I’m not robot expert!’ The owner was waving his hands above the heads of the Agents questioning him, his face sweaty. ‘It break locks! Run out! How I meant to stop such a thing? It not like those.’ The owner gestured towards a pair of androids that were shovelling debris from the hole in the warehouse onto a cart. ‘Blue eyes! Blue I tell you.’ As the doorway of the warehouse cleared of police for a moment he saw the door had been broken through. There was a Sisu-sized hole torn out of it. Karvinen felt his body relax a little. No construct had blue eyes and it looked like Sisu had smashed her way out of the building rather than get caught. She would be on her way to the bootlegger’s cathedral. Karvinen was watching the androids empty their buckets into a wheelbarrow when he saw the Agent fiddle with one of the ‘plants behind its right ear. After a moment it nodded to the surrounding policemen, then left the square. Now he could leave unnoticed and follow Sisu down to the sixth level. Maybe he would even catch up with her on her way there. * As predicted, the casing of the shell was already becoming less elastic under the constant weathering. Fine crazing was starting to appear which would soon develop into cracks. Sisu kept moving despite this. It would take longer for the casing to disintegrate completely than it would for her to reach the cathedral on the level below. She sent herself through the back alleys of the fifth level to where she would be able to use one of the unofficial lifts to reach the level below. As she turned a corner into one of the larger streets she was startled to hear voices nearby and hastily crouched behind a pile of bin bags. Not only were Karvinen and Sisu being pursued by TyCorp Agents, but any robot not employed by the City was banned from open movement on the planet. Even the miniature ones used as desk maids in the more wealthy companies needed permits to leave their owner’s offices. Any regular citizens seeing her out in the open would certainly report her to the police. She had to be careful. The rain was making it less easy for her to get spotted. The only two men who Sisu saw pass the gap of the back alley she was crouched in hurried under the reinforced covers of a nearby game hall. Watching carefully for signs of further pedestrians, Sisu sprinted the shell up and across the road into another winding back street. She kept to one side of it where the floor was somewhat protected by a roof lined with ancient, rusty pipes. Sisu made her way through to the street on the other side and cautiously moved her head around the corner. She saw red and blue light flashing out through the grimy downpour. Police. This street wouldn’t be as easy to cross as the one before. She could see them swarming around a building about ten doors down from where she hid. After a few moments of observation, Sisu decided the only way to cross the street without them seeing her would be to pass them first. There were deep shadows on her side of the road which went all the way to the junction at the end. She calculated that if she kept herself in the shadows it was likely that she would be able to pass the police without being noticed. It would however mean walking in the drains. The rain had already hardened the shell’s skin and it was corroding it to a shade that certainly wouldn’t pass as human anymore. It was the only way. Carefully she edged along the gutter at the side of the road, trying as much as possible to avoid stepping in the path of the drain. The closer to them she got, the more clearly she could see the police through the rain. They were ransacking a bootleggers den. Sisu could see they were stacking boxes of confiscated hardware into a large lorry parked outside. As she watched, she saw there was one man who stood apart from the others. He stood under a reinforced tarpaulin they had erected as a base of operations while the policemen scurried around him. He wore blue and black, which marked him out as a TyCorp Agent. If Sisu had been able to pick out the features of his face, she knew she would be able to see the man’s earplants. She could see he was armed. The Agent was casually holding a flechette rifle in one hand, as though he had forgotten about it. He had his back to Sisu, and the policemen were all very focused on their work. With no one looking her way, if she moved slowly and quietly, then perhaps she could make her way past them all unseen. She pushed the shell on, keeping to the darkest parts of the gutter. As she was moving past a particularly large puddle in the drain a few metres behind where the Agent was standing, Sisu suddenly became aware that he was not alone under his tarpaulin. A silvery figure, almost indistinguishable from the grey rain that surrounded it, stood next to the Agent. It had to be some sort of construct, Sisu thought. Perhaps it was the Agent’s personal android? The construct turned its head slightly and Sisu stopped her shell dead with one foot in the puddle. She could see its eyes. They glowed blue, like hers did. Sisu stood transfixed. She had seen androids before, but they had all had red eyes. As she stood there, mesmerised by the figure with blue eyes - her eyes! -, it turned and looked directly at the patch of shadow where Sisu was hiding. Sisu repeated the order to the shell not to move, but the silvery figure made a gesture with its head to the Agent standing next to it. She had been noticed. Sisu stared as the Agent listened to the silvery figure speak, then turned abruptly to face her hiding space, raising his rifle. She should run while the Agent had yet to arm his rifle. But Sisu continued to hesitate. The blue-eyed construct had moved towards her a little. Perhaps it could see she wasn’t human, because it let out a quiet Ping of greeting. Sisu felt the summons of the Ping course through her code. The power behind that summons was shockingly alluring. It was unlike any Ping she had encountered before. She found it very difficult not to respond to it instantly. Where an android requested information politely, this one demanded it with a force akin to that of a Ping from a human. Sisu realised that if she allowed herself to stand their any longer, the next Ping would keep her from completing her task. She bolted the shell away down the street. Behind her she heard the Agent shout and moments later saw the wall of a building a few metres in front of her blossom dust as flechettes embedded themselves into it. She swerved into an alleyway to the left of the street, but not before the Agent managed to fire his weapon again. The dart shredded through the circuitry in her left hip and embedded itself there, damaging her leg. Sisu made a huge effort to keep running through the maze of alleyways. She managed to find a small alleyway overstuffed with bin bags into which she clambered awkwardly and crouched there in the dark. Gazing out from between two bags, Sisu watched as the police slid their torches across the walls of the alley opposite. The men were only cheaply ‘planted it seemed. At one point a policeman even swept his torch light into her hide, before jogging away, oblivious to her presence. After a few minutes they all moved further away in their search. Sisu was glad now for the discolouration of her shell if it meant she had avoided the eyes seeking her. She could hear that the police were some distance from her and was about to start back on her way to the cathedral again, when the Agent appeared. He walked calmly into her alleyway and stood there, his rifle idle at his side. Before Sisu could bolt once more, however, a Ping abruptly rolled out through the rain. She forced herself to order the shell not to move; what if she gave in to the pull of the summons? This time the feeling of power that prickled her code was dampened somehow. Sisu saw that the Agent had turned himself towards the source of the Ping and was nodding. The blue-eyed construct was summoning him! After the Ping had finished sounding, the Agent seemed to stare longingly towards the source of it for some seconds. Then he turned and looked directly at where Sisu was hidden. ‘Aren’t you lucky.’ he said dispassionately, then walked away. Sisu kept the shell still, waiting there in the tiny, reeking alley. She heard the Agent’s barked order to the police reflect dimly on the wet brick around her. Eventually all human sound retreated and Sisu was left alone in the hissing rain. Why hadn’t the Agent alerted the police to her presence? He had clearly known exactly where she was. Perhaps his ‘plants allowed him to see in the infrared part of the spectrum. Sisu became aware of an itchy feeling which the shell had been trying to get her to attend to for some time now. She looked at the hip and saw the flechette lodged there was pulsing out waves of energy. She decided the best description for the feeling was nausea. It was probably causing a slight loss in functioning in the shell. She could feel energy web itself along the dart then pulse out into the rain. If she could remove it, perhaps then she could concentrate enough to understand how the Agent had found her so easily. She grasped the flechette with the shell’s fingers, and was instantly met with the pulsing nausea of electromagnetism. It shot through the shell’s skin and into its circuits, spreading throughout the entire shell before she had time to execute an emergency ‘jack out’ command. Sisu was not aware of anything but blackness for a long time. * The night was barely visible down here on the sixth level. The rain used the neon lights that clung to every wall as water tanks, eroding the slogans for soft drinks and fast food into the chrome and granite of the buildings that wore them. The streets were deserted. Karvinen’s thin mac wasn’t especially helping to keep him from the buffeting sheets and his boots had what might as well be cardboard soles for all the water they were letting in. All of the shops here had fluorescent tube signs that bleated as they illuminated in languages he didn’t have the ‘plants to understand. Eventually he managed to find the one phrase which had drawn him to the place over a year ago: ‘First 3 hours free’. Karvinen entered the shop and closed the door against the storm, brushing water from his hair. It was warm here for which he was grateful as he was soaked through. A heating fan above the door was already leaving dry islands in the thin fabric of his mac. Karvinen stepped further inside and past a counter. It must have been manned at some point but was currently dustily reflecting the light of the sign outside. Beyond the counter he stepped through a beaded curtain which covered the entrance to a set of stairs which lead down. The stairs were at one end of what had once been a cathedral. Earth and metal pressed in on the room from all sides, but not all of the windows that lined it had been broken. Faces and colours were still recognisable in the ancient stained glass. Bootleggers had taken it over long ago. Every few metres a coloured pod obscured its player. There were hundreds of them in rows along the floor and on mezzanine platforms that lined the walls all the way up to the dark ceiling. They glowed out at Karvinen in a rainbow of firefly lights, pale but distinguishable through the gloom. He chose one of the pods on a mezzanine level and punched the button to open the lid of the smooth, apricot coloured pod. Getting himself comfortable in the seat, he looked at the Game system in front of him. He needed to make sure people knew the Game was deadly to humans, so he decided to record some sort of broadcast to be left in their minds once the Game was released. He would leave a server intact with only his broadcast running on it and do his best to lock it from tamperers. Eventually they would just smash the machine hosting the server, but by then it would be too late. Anyone trying to play the Game in the meantime would get the broadcast instead, along with a file showing the Game’s source code, just in case. Initially he had had no way to implement his vague notions of destroying the Game. He had known that what he needed was some sort of virus, combined with the physical destruction of the Game’s hardware. To create a perfect virus for the Game, he first needed to understand how it functioned: how the code was written. He had tried hacking into bootleg copies of the Game. That was how he had discovered the bootleggers cathedral in which he was now sat. Three or four of the distant glow-bug pods lay open and dark in the dusty gloom as a result of his earlier experiments. In order to achieve both of these goals he had to somehow get inside the TyCorp facility building and hack into their code systems without being noticed. It was then that he had heard about the problems TyCorp was having keeping the core of the Game stable. At the centre of the Game’s hardware was a supercomputer robot that directed all the servers and programs that ran the Game for everyone playing it. This robot was built according to the same laws all robots were, and as such required near constant maintenance. The robot would see the life signs of all the players connected to the Game from both official and bootlegged versions of the Game. So that meant it watched as humans throughout the city logged more and more time and got less and less healthy. Every day it watched the Game kill the people playing it, the continued existence of which was under its control. The core robot was welded to the floor so it couldn’t just run away or ignore what was happening, like a human could. Besides which, its programming wouldn’t allow that. In the end all it could think to do was explode itself. The developers and engineers had gotten so used to this, that it had become part of the daily routine to reset the robot’s memory every few hours. To begin with the reset caused major problems for TyCorp. Who was going to play a Game that turns itself off ten times a day? There had been far fewer Enthralled back then, with great works of art still being made, and people still sharing meals and talking to one another in the real world rather than through the pod mics. The company had tried installing a second core that seamlessly picked up the slack once its twin had lost the will to function; running and maintaining one core robot had already been very expensive. With two installed, TyCorp was almost not making money. Karvinen realised he had found a way into the trust of the company’s executives and into the building that housed the Game’s circuitry. He first suggested a way for the company to save money on their electricity bill. There were whole floors of the basement levels dedicated to the servers, with room after room filled with the neat, black cuboids. The servers were always on and cooled to a cosy 18 degrees C at all times in order to function properly. However, despite the load that they were capable of supporting, each individual machine only used about 10% of its capacity for running the Game. The rest was usually left idle. Karvinen proposed a way of reducing every ten machines down to a single machine. By virtualising ten machines and running them on one machine, 100% of the capacity of each server could be used for the Game at a time and the company would pay less money to run and cool them. This got him a seat at meeting tables. It was from there that he was able to propose the idea for his core. Karvinen explained that he could create a core robot for them which would not try to kill itself when it realised that it was harming humans. TyCorp’s official stance on the topic was that it wasn’t their product that harmed people, rather the people playing irresponsibly. All worthy employees believed this; those that voiced concerns were quietly reminded who it was that had their ID plugs and promptly fell into silence. Convincing a robot to ignore the truth was another matter entirely. When Karvinen explained that he could create a robot which would essentially lack the desire to protect humans as a part of its programming, Old Tybalt himself had given him the post of deputy chief engineer back before he had gone into retirement. Karvinen made a computer with all that was necessary for the Game to run on it, but rather than include a robot program, he installed Sisu’s broadcasting hardware. From the outside, the new core seemed to be a robot with little or no scruples. It took up so little space compared to the previous robots that it fitted into a small room in the centre of the server floors without difficulty. It was welded to the floor as the others had been. What no one else knew was that not only had Karvinen left space in the cube for Sisu, but also for a dynamo that, when it was activated, gave out enough energy for the core to grow very hot and explode, damaging anything near it. TyCorp had essentially welded a bomb to its own facility. Once the core was in place, they had started to work out the structure for the virus. The company was understandably extremely tight-lipped when it came to the code of the Game, and had measures in place which made it impossible for someone to try to hack into it from outside the company. They were also careful to the point of oppressive when it came to their workforce. To make sure the source code was not even partially leaked, all employees were required to wear implants which monitored their efficiency and bodily functions. What the company failed to do was monitor the core robot to the same extent. Sisu had constant and direct access to the code. The virus needed to mould against the Game’s intricate software perfectly. It took nearly half a year to build. Sisu had to watch first-hand from where she was jacked in to the core as the Game killed people. They were both frustrated with how slowly they were forced to work in order to not get detected. Finally it was time. Now that they had the perfect virus for the Game’s once-elusive code, he and Sisu could implement it from anywhere. Karvinen watched the broadcast through and klacked out an extra paragraph of code so it would upload along with the virus, then sat back. He should wait for Sisu to move her shell here. Technologically speaking, Sisu wasn’t capable of very much, but it was her job to implement the virus into the Game system. It was Karvinen’s job to prepare the Game’s code to receive it. At TyCorp they had stopped before the virus could work fully. This meant preparing the code again from the beginning. The preparations for the virus were delicate and complex and would take at least half a day to complete. The plan was to have Sisu jack the shell into a pod and with Karvinen instructing her. That way was far less dangerous than for him to jack in and do it himself.  Agents would be searching through every back alley ‘leggers in the city to find him, and TyCorp could be up and running before he had a chance to implement the virus. He had already wasted an hour waiting for Sisu. He felt stupid for not finding a way to shield his ID plug from the elevator before. He felt in his jacket and found the other plug, the one that had belonged to Caroline. He placed it on the pod’s keyboard, then he took out his own and placed them side by side. He looked at them for a few seconds. Karvinen pressed the ‘plant into a slot in his earlobe and jacked in. * There was a tall, silvery figure watching Sisu. He stood atop a distant tower and seemed to be calling to her. She wasn’t sure how she was able to see him so clearly when crowds of shadowy, grey figures swelled around him and the rest of the city like smoke. He was like a mirage; blindingly bright, and somehow not really there. Yet, despite this, Sisu felt she knew him as intimately as she knew her own software; somehow he felt more real than anyone she had ever met, even Karvinen. Karvinen! As she thought of her friend there was another explosion and the billowing nausea rippled through her again. Everything was dark, but this time Sisu slowly became aware that it was the dark of closed eyelids, not the oblivion she had been left in before the dream. Did A.I. dream? Perhaps it was an idle concoction of her software, to keep her distracted from the waves of reduced functioning the flechette had been producing. Meeting the silvery figure before in the street had certainly not been a dream. Sisu opened the shell’s photoelectric cells and looked at where the flechette had embedded itself in its left hip. It was gone. Perhaps it had snapped off? She looked around warily for it and saw that she was no longer in the trash-lined back alley. She was lying in one of the trams used to move garbage out of the city. Someone had moved her here. She had been lain out onto one of the seats near the driver’s cabin. This car was empty of refuse, but she could see others behind this one, stuffed with the same black bags she had blacked out in before. At the back of the cab, Sisu could see two grey figures standing over a third that lay on the floor. She thought for a moment that they were more of the grey figures from her dream. Sisu blinked her eyes. No, they were androids. The one on the floor had smoke leaking from it and held the flechette that had been in her hip in its hand. There was a dent in the wall of the cab next to where it lay. As Sisu lifted her shell up to try and see more clearly, one of the other androids turned and saw she was awake. It moved over to her, and Sisu saw that it had once been white, but its colour had dulled in the rain. Most of the androids on this planet didn’t have voices, and this one was no exception. But it had a Ping. It managed to intimate with a bow of its head that it was happy to see her awake. ‘Ping?’ Request? The feeling was feeble compared to that of the blue-eyed construct. Sisu pushed this realisation to one side and responded: ‘Yes. Where are we? I need to move this shell to the sixth level.’ The android held up its hand with the palm facing away from her, and curled the middle three fingers towards itself: Liú ‘Six?’ ‘Ping!’ The android confirmed, and watched her with its red, photoelectric eyes. Sisu made to get up but the shell stumbled. The flechette had ruined the leg - it no longer moved smoothly. The shell would probably not be able to run anymore. The android held out its hand and helped pull Sisu up from the seat. ‘Will that one function again?’ she asked, pointing to the android that had taken the flechette out of her. It still hadn’t moved. The android helping her up made sure she could stand by itself, then lifted its shoulders in a shrug. ‘Ping?��� Request? ‘Yes?’ Sisu watched the android move over to where its colleague lay, then return with part of the flechette. It was a small layer of circuitry. Sisu recognised it somehow, then realised part of her own broadcasting equipment was comprised of this. ‘It is a homing device?’ she asked the android, taking it. The android nodded. Sisu watched it for a moment, then understood. This was how the Agent had known exactly where she had been hiding in the alleyway. She crushed the tiny wad of circuitry in her hand, then gave the remains back to the android. As she stood there Sisu became aware that the shell was a lot lighter than usual, and, looking down, saw that its skin-casing had completely rotted away, leaving only the frame. It must have disintegrated off her in the rain. ‘How long has this shell been inactive?’ The android held up three, grey fingers. ‘Three days?’ The android nodded. Sisu staggered abruptly towards the doors of the tram. Karvinen had been waiting for her for three days. ‘I need to leave right now.’ The android nodded and went to the front of the carriage where she could hear it pinging at the driver. The flechette had shut off her shell without jacking her out, so she had been caught in a timeless sleep-like space between awareness and oblivion, unable to free herself. It had felt as though an infinite amount of time was passing. The android returned and helped her to the doors. ‘Thank you.’ Sisu said, as the tram stopped to let her off. The android motioned for her to wait. It jogged easily over to one of the tram carriages behind the one Sisu had woken in, returning less than a minute later with a plank. It tucked the wood under her arm then stepped back to admire its handiwork. Sisu tested the shell’s weight on it. It was a passable crutch. She thanked the android again and held up her hand in farewell as the tram moved away, then turned and started to make her way down the street. The cathedral was just ahead. Sisu moved as fast as her leg allowed to the neon covered building. The leg’s gears crunched and shredded against their frame. As she reached the building a gear froze and made her stumble and trip over her crutch and into the wall. She smashed into one of the neons and it drenched the shell in the rainwater it had collected. Sisu continued directing the shell forward, clumsily negotiating the bead curtain that hung over the entrance. There was a stocky woman at the counter inside. When she saw Sisu, she scrambled her hands under the table and brought out a shotgun, aiming it at her. She screamed in a language Sisu didn’t need a translation ‘plant to understand, but Sisu ignored her and hobbled onto the back stairs down into the cathedral. While she concentrated on maneuvering the shell down the steps, Sisu looked out at the lines of pods. Most of them were dimly illuminated. Some were dark and one or two of them lay open and empty. Near the back of one of the mezzanine levels there were some wet patches leading to a puddle on the floor around one of the pods. Sisu decided it was probably the one Karvinen was using. It took her several long minutes to make her way across to it, even with her crutch. Once there she saw that there was a coat lying in the puddle, the cheap plastic of which was already congealing into a foam. She pressed the admittance button on the pod. Karvinen’s corpse was sweaty and still warm from the chem. She let the crutch drop heavily onto the wet floor. His eyes were bleached white, the once blue irises now blind. After observing the eyes for a few seconds, Sisu moved the shell’s hand and closed the lids over them. Faintly, Sisu could hear shouts from upstairs. The woman with the shotgun had called Agents here. They were flooding into the cathedral. Sisu moved her gaze from Karvinen’s face and focused on the pod’s keyboard. There were two plugs there. She picked them up and closed them safely in her fist. She heard a shout echo from the stairs behind her but she ignored it, calmly taking an in-line from the pod. She plugged it into one of the ports under her chin, feeling the floor shake as the Agents pounded onto it. It only took a moment to upload the virus core to the pod. The code that Karvinen had spent his life setting up for her waited, expectant. Sisu pinged out an execute command and felt the Game finally dissolving away: it was done. Sisu turned, beatific, to accept the Agents’ wrath. She watched absently as her shell filled with row after row of flechettes. She thought that would be the last thing the shell would broadcast back to her, but abruptly Sisu felt the shock of a Ping coarse through her. She looked up through the Game’s disintegrating code and saw a pair of blue eyes watching her. It stared not at the shell, but at the part of her that was her. At Sisu. A final explosion of nausea shattered the shell’s transmitter hardware before she had time to react to the summons, and she was forcably jacked out. Sisu was alone. Epilogue For a week following the broadcast there were many squabbles and riots throughout the city. The message had brought itself firmly to the ears and begoggled eyes of the Game’s enthralled players and it didn’t take much effort to convince the androids that lived and served in the city that stopping the Game was a necessity. Several holes had been torn in the perimeter wall on the second level. Burnt out and looted game halls could be found on every major street, footage of which had spurred those in other cities and skystations to imitation. At least half the city collected in front of the stands of the smashed out city stadium to chant and scream for justice. The swell could be heard far out into the surrounding Wastes, where, had anyone been watching, they would have seen a lone, grey figure moving at a steady pace out into the dunes. The stadium shook with the cries that echoed and reechoed across its perfectly tuned amphitheatre. There was a raised platform protected by domed glass in the middle of the stadium and it quickly found itself a mushroom under fire as a group of figures wobbled up onto the protected stage. Seats, placards, whatever the crowd could throw far enough. Screens blinded into life to show close up images of those in the dome and a sudden ringing noise spread out from the mushroom. The cries died down as the crowd spectated warily. A tall, silvery figure stepped to the front of the group and the crowd seemed to hold its breath. The figure shone out a peaceful beauty that reflected in each spectator’s eyes. The telescreens showed the enigmatic silver man speak words of freedom, carefully refined to be heartwarming and amusing, and the broadcast, it was agreed, was now something to be forgotten. The man looked into the camera with a perfected expression of warmth. His eyes glowed a serene lagoon blue. Sisu froze the transmission. It hadn’t taken very long to build another shell. She had made some small modifications to make this one easier to pass as human and to better protect it. If she was going to go back into the city she would need to be able to do so without receiving the same amount of damage as last time. But there were still two small pieces missing. There was a Ping from outside the bunker. Sisu snapped open a visual channel to confirm it and unlocked the door. After a minute the android found its way to the room Sisu was in. It carried a mess of molded plastic with it, which was all that was left of the old shell. Sisu made a gesture and the android placed its load onto the free workbench, then stood back. Sisu reverently unfolded the still intact fist that lay in the pile and picked up the two plugs gently with her new shell. The final difference between this shell and her old one was that this one had spaces for plugs in its earlobes. Sisu slotted each plug into place, and turned to face the clear blue gaze of the silver man that still glowed into the bunker. Then she punched the key that turned the telescreen off. It was time.