#I honestly don’t want kadi to come out

[chocoberry-dream]

Hiiii it’s been a while! I’m still kaisoo for life of course 💘

Ive been thinking, reminiscing on kaisoo a lot because I miss them…..and like…

That whole thing about the SM staff member uploading that picture with kadi on his Instagram and then putting a beating heart caption, then editing the tags on the picture to “just friends” and “no ship”, then posting another picture with just Ks and the tags saying “joke” and “no ship”, THEN replying to a DM saying that the kadi stuff he posted was just a joke and that ks and ji are just friends, THEN completely deactivating his account is actually CRAZY and I’m really surprised that more ppl, both now and back then, don’t realize how big of an indicator this is that they’re dating🤯

I remember when I was hearing about it, I went right to the post right away and saw the comments right before it got deleted. There were only about 20 comments and no one commented anything about them being in a relationship. Everyone just said stuff like “omg kaisoo!🩷🩷🩷” But his reaction was SO EXTREME. And it’s crazy how even with evidence like this, people will still insist that they aren’t dating each other.

#I guess it’s for the best though #I honestly don’t want kadi to come out #even if they have to have “beards to ensure that they have a peaceful life I will support them #but it’s just some things about them that you cannot deny 👀 #anywho I am patiently waiting on Ji’s return #can’t wait to see my boys being in love again 💘 #kaisoo #kadi #dika #beri talks

[frogboy0]

An Avatar Miraculous AU?

Nah

A KATOPH Avatar Miraculous AU? 

YES!! 

Me and my sibling basically binged Miraculous Ladybug the other day and you know how anything I every do always ends up making me think about atla? Yeah

I was originally gonna make Katara have the Ladybug miraculous and Toph have the Black Cat miraculous -seriously, I had whole coloured and finished designs for them already- buuuut right after I finished, I was like ‘Nah, I don’t like this’ SO THEN I CHANGED IT

Katara has the,,, fish miraculous (like Tui and La) and Toph has the -wait for it- the badgermole miraculous. Ik ik really creative.

Katara is Lady Hai. I wanted to give her something similar to The Painted Lady, which was a big inspiration for the outfit. An haiyang means ocean in chinese, so she’s basically Lady Ocean which I thought was a cute name!!! 

And Toph is still the Blind Bandit, it’s badass name, I’m not changing it.

I’ll probably be drawing more of this AU!!! 

Some notes under the cut if anyone’s interested 

Okay so first of all, they don’t go to the same schools. Toph goes to some rich, private school that she HATES and Katara goes to public school. 

Toph, like I wrote in the first picture, DOES know that Katara and Lady Hai are the same person. 

And she likes her. 

Which is sorta hard since they don’t TECHNICALLY know each other yet. So Toph is just some random kids that Katara sometimes sees walking down the street while to Toph, Katara is ONE OD THE COOLEST PEOPLE SECOND TO HERSELF

Katara sees this whole hero thing as a responsibility (of course) she WANTS to help people because that’s just how she is, she wants to make a difference in the world. 

Toph on the other hand, come on, she’s a sheltered rich kid still so things are the same basically how it is in canon. She uses the Blind Bandit as a sort of escape and it’s fun at first! 

But UGHHHH MORALS and this random girl who somehow has a kwami too keeps following her around and FORCING her into a duo that Toph does NOT wanna be a part of. 

But eventually she realizes that Yeah, maybe she should be using her powers to help. So they’re a team now.

And honestly, it doesn’t take much for Toph to fall head over heels in love with Lady Hai because of her passion and drive and the stupid jokes she makes and that annoying laugh she does at said stupid jokes and- 

Toph would figure out Katara is Kady Hai probably by speaking to Katara when she’s not in her miraculous form. The heartbeats and everything are the same (plus she sounds exactly like her) and then it just snowballs from there.

But that’s all I have for now (sorry that it’s not a lot!!) I wanna do more for this like make the kwamis and go more into detail with their powers and dynamics and stuff!!! Thank you for reading!

#atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #katara #toph #katoph #sokka #my art #miraculous ladybug au

[bitchesoffillory]

The Magicians at Summer Camp AU

I really miss my summer camp and wish I was there right now so here is how I imagine everyone as camp counselors (also I know that all camps are different this is based off of how my camp is run/some of the programs it has)

Julia- THE BEST FUCKING COUNSELOR!! She would be so good with the campers!!!! She is an expert at walking the line between fun and responsible. She’s cool enough that all of the “popular” campers vibe with her. She’s so nice and really understands the awkward kids. She is great at bringing them out of their shells and listening to them. That’s literally all campers want, is for someone to listen to them and Julia is great at it. She makes sure everyone feels included and seen, she makes being kind and inclusive cool. We stan.

Quentin- The campers WORSHIP him and he absolutely cannot understand why. It confuses him so much because he’s like, “I’m so awkward? Why?” but he ends up just rolling with it, who is he to question them. He’s so good with the quieter and more indoor kids. He plays cards with them, teaches them magic tricks, talks about his favorite books. He gets all of the campers hooked on the fillory books, so he ends up creating programming around it. He is so unapologetic about who he is and what he loves and that’s so attractive to kids you have no idea. All of the campers love him. I am so soft for counselor Q. 

Eliot- He RUNS the drama program at camp. The play is always elaborate, impeccably done, and different every summer. He comes off as bitchy at first but those kids are his little drama ducklings and he will defend them with his life. The kids absolutely adore him. In addition to the big play, he organizes spontaneous performance art throughout the summer. You never know when it’s coming or what’s going to happen. A flash dance? Spontaneous slam poetry? Shaving a fellow counselor's head? Imagine him convincing Todd to let him shave his head. There are no limits, only art. 

Alice- Organic farmer Alice. The plots are organized and there is every vegetable you could ever think of. She teaches the campers how to take care of all of the different plants, the different medicinal properties of all of the herbs, the different regions that everything comes from. At first she comes off as cold but then the campers see how nurturing she is with all of her plants. She seems all prim and proper but she really gets her hands down in the dirt. Every meal at camp contains something fresh from the garden. We love it. 

Or!!!!! Horseback riding, but I don’t know too much about horseback riding, we don’t have it at my camp but Alice is a full horse girl. She likes it because she gets to talk to animals more than other human beings and we love that for her. 

Josh- The head of the kitchen, those kids eat GOOD. All of the meals are delicious and nutritious, especially with the additions to the meal from the organic garden. Oh you have a food allergy? No problem. Josh makes special dishes for all of the kids with specific allergies and needs, gluten free? Vegan? Apple, nut, sesame or fish allergy?  Lactose intolerant? Just straight up picky? All of the above? No worries, Chef Josh is on it. He never forgets a birthday, every kid with a camp birthday gets a personalized cake in their favorite flavor. We love to see it. 

Fen- Archery instructor. There is no knife throwing at camp (thank gd) but arrows are still pretty pointy. The setup is super sweet with top of the line equipment. She never misses, ever. The campers try and set up challenges for her and she hasn’t missed yet. Standing far away, shooting a moving target, shooting blindfolded. She hits the mark every time. All of the campers are convinced that she is some type of Elven warrior who rides around defending justice with her trusty bow when she’s not at camp. She doesn’t correct them. 

Or she teaches self defense with Kady

Kady- Krav Maga. All of the campers are kind of scared of her, but they all sign up for it because they also want to be her. The campers are always super timid during their first lesson, but Kady always pulls them out of it. She’s tough and compassionate, she teaches them self defense and confidence in themselves. All of the campers walk out feeling like complete badasses, and that maybe Kady isn’t as scary as they once thought. The best.

Penny- A lifeguard. Everyone thinks that he has the easiest job at camp because from the outside it looks like all he does is tan. BUT he has to look out for a million little fuckers near open water all while sitting in the blazing hot sun for hours. That shit’s hard. Yelling every two second for kids to stop running, and no diving! He’s the hot lifeguard who is the only person who can get the kids into the water. He’s grumpy but he loves his job. SWIM INSTRUCTOR PENNY!!!! It’s like Professor Penny but in water. Honestly? I love this one.

Margo- The high king of productive discomfort. All of the “popular” kids look up to her because she is a boss bitch and she teaches all of them to have compassion and be empathetic. Meanwhile she has a very soft spot in her heart for the quiet nerdy kids and teaches them to take no shit and stand up for themselves. She is also the biggest advocate for the campers and the staff. If you are ever having a problem you are always told to go to Margo and she will get it fixed. She has no fear and absolutely will yell at the director if there is an issue.

Todd- The junior counselor that everyone hazes. He fucks up a lot but he really and truly is trying his best. 

Professor Lipson- The camp nurse who’s answer to all ailments is a bandaid and/or cough drops.

Dean Fogg- Literally the worst camp director there is. The worst. The Assistant Director does everything. 

Jane Chatwin- The assistant director. She does everything. 

#The Magicians #the magicians syfy #julia wicker #Quentin Coldwater #eliot waugh #alice quinn #josh hoberman #fen #kady orloff diaz #penny adiyodi #margo hanson #todd #professor lipson #dean fogg #jane chatwin #the magicians at summer camp

[welcometoels]

Session Sixteen - Ebeneezer’s Offer

The figure by the fire is offensive to the senses.  He looks like a pile of filthy rags has somehow grown a man’s face, sounds like a cautionary tale about the perils of overindulgence, and smells like an ash tray at the bottom of a midden.  Something about him doesn’t feel right, and the rest just doesn’t bear thinking about.

However, Ebeneezer Chaotic-Neutral gives all impressions of shooting straight with the group.  He welcomes them to the safety of his camp, but also makes it clear that there is more to the situation than may first be evident.

Snapping his fingers, he calls over a luxuriantly mutton-chopped Human called Harry.  With a beguiling shuffle, Harry passes out pieces of paper to the party.  Printed on these papers are artistic representations of each of the bipedal members of the party, with their names printed beneath.  According to the text, the four of them - “and also a Dog” - are wanted for the crime of grand theft at the Dragonhall Bank.

(At this point, the penny finally drops for Julius, who honestly had no idea what was going on.  Bless his sweet Otter soul.)

According to Ebeneezer, these sheets were intercepted on their way out of Monthend to the surrounding towns.  So far, they’ve been held within its walls, but who knows what would happen if word of rhe party's crimes spread further afield.

Fortunately, Ebeneezer has the power to put the record straight.  What he lacks, though, is the funds and the motivation.  Granted, he made a promise to a certain group - a group with whom Cailynn is very familiar - that he would keep them safe for the immediate future, but that period of time is finite.

So, Ebeneezer puts forward a proposition.  It just so happens that, in a neighbouring town, there is a certain artefact: A certain artefact that a certain contact would pay a certain amount of money for.  A very, very large amount.

Being a businessman at heart, and one with a loose definition of property rights, Ebeneezer is keen to fulfil this contract.  All previous attempts, though, have been failures.

This is where our team comes in.  If they can retrieve the thornéd helm of Thornhelm, Ebeneezer promises to use all of the means available to him to clear their records and ensure that word of their supposed crimes spreads no further.

The team confers.  Some are less troubled than others - notably Oddsock, who barely even appears on the warrant.  In a panic, Julius momentarily transforms into a chocolate Labrador, but returns to Otter form after giving it a bit more thought.

Though it quite rightly tests their morals, the adventurers agree to acquire the artefact, and they head off north-northwest to Thornhelm.

Throughout all this, Kadis has been very quiet, and it is while they are journeying that he reveals why.  Before he entered the mysterious doorway and met his new friends, Kadis had spent a brief moment in Thornhelm.  While he was there, he helped fend off a group of bandits who were hell-bent on stealing the very item they were on their way to take.

Naturally, he is feeling very conflicted about this.  Though this plan is the simplest way to resolve their current situation, stealing the item he was previously charged with protecting just doesn’t sit right with him.

Fortunately, an unexpected distraction arrives as they reach town - a distraction in the form of a Half Orc in a utility kilt bedecked with various carpentry tools.  Though Kadis has never actually seen this person, he knows who they are as soon as they speak.

Khoth is a former sorcerer, now living a simple life in Thornhelm performing odd jobs.  Back when Kadis was living here, they knew each other well.  It was a fraught relationship at first - Kadis being very persistent with his questions about magic and how it might relate to the ruination of his home town - but Khoth grew to like the chatty blind monk.

Khoth greets Kadis warmly, and extends that warmth to the rest of the party, inviting them to the Harp & Spider - a welcoming boozer that serves a delightful foamy nut brown ale.

After fetching a round in for the group - and pouring Oddsock’s into his special dog bowl - Khoth quizzes them on what has been going on with them.

This is where Kadis makes a very bold move - and one which results in some pained noises from other members of the team: He opts to tell Khoth everything, up to and including their mission to steal the helm.

Khoth is quiet for a moment, then makes it very clear that, while he will not stand in their way, he will not assist them in stealing from his adopted home town - this is as far as he is willing to go for a friend caught in a difficult situation.

He also offers occasional pieces of advice as the team outlines a series of bizarre, nonsensical, and sometimes outright counterproductive plans:

Suggestions of giving money to Ebeneezer in place of the helm are quickly shot down, since they don’t know how valuable it is (probably very valuable) or how dangerous the intended recipient is (probably quite dangerous)

Finding an artefact of equal value is also mooted, but rejected since they don’t know of any other artefacts

A few vague suggestions of “using magic” are bandied about, though without much certainty of what kind of magic

Just packing it in and returning to Dogwood was also on the table, which would have been nice right up until the warrants for their arrest arrived

Talion does have one bright idea off the back of all this, and mentions that he can create a replica of an item magically, which lasts up to three hours (though it is sparkly and plays music when you touch it).

Somehow, this becomes a cornerstone of the plan, so they leave Khoth in the Harp to pursue... something?

One little piece of intel they did glean from Khoth was that the artefact is being held at the church, which is very easy to find.  The tallest building by several storeys, the church dominates the landscape with its tall, square tower.

The doors are open, and nobody is inside the spacious main area.  The crew takes a moment to admire the stained glass windows, the simple pews, the sturdy door at the far end, and the statues of a female Gnome holding an apple.

Julius becomes quite excited by the latter, and inspects the statue to confirm that this figure is indeed a Forest Gnome, just like his dear Pa.  Oddsock is also drawn to the statues, though mainly because the apple resembles a ball.  He has about as much success in extricating the apple as he had getting the ball from the statue in Mansion de Mortesque.

Kadis takes a moment to make sure that everyone understands the plan.  It is unclear whether or not they do.  What is clear is that empty churches are very echoey, and all the chat and apple-grabbing has attracted some attention on the other side of the closed doors.

The bearer of the attention turns out to be a Gnome by the name of Father Sassafrass - at least, that’s what they think his name is, but it is impossible to be certain thanks to his outrageous lisp.

Kadis approaches and asks if the priest remembers him.  One might more reasonably ask if Kadis remembers the priest - it’s not a voice one would easily forget - but the question has been asked the way it was asked, and the answer is “no”.

It transpires that the current Gnomish occupants of the church are recently new, with the previous priest having left due to stress cause by the constant threat of banditth.

Now, Kadis goes for the same bold gambit that he attempted on Khoth in the Harp.  Nobody else in the team is entirely sure why, but he begins to tell Father Sassafrass all about their recent troubles, the task they’ve been given, and the bandits they are working for.

It is at this point that Sassafrass begins to panic.  The mention of banditth has put him into a tailspin, and nothing the group can do will stop him worrying about banditth and the people in front of him who work for banditth.

[DM’s Note: It is also at this point that I learned that, no matter how well you plan a session, and how much effort you put into your presentation, your players may just collapse into incessant giggling over a Gnome who keeps saying banditth.  I learned a lot on this day.]

Talion tries turning on the charm to help disarm the situation, but Sassafrass resists.  Instead, it takes the soft brown eyes and luxuriant fur of a Golden Retriever to help calm down a manically lisping Gnome.

So delighted is he with the nice doggy, he calls his companion, Sister Rilliriwae, to share in the joy.  Rilliriwae does not have a lisp, but does have her own challenges, and tells the group they can call her Wiwwi.

[DM’s Note: I learned A LOT on this day.]

Once everyone calmed down a bit, a discussion followed wherein the group outlined what would eventually become their plan:  They would take the helm, hand it off to Ebeneezer, go along for the exchange with the purchaser, steal it back from them (leaving a replica behind), then return the artefact.

Though Sassafrass is unthertain, and Rilli thinks the plan is vewy convowuted, the team manages to get them onboard.  The helm is upstairs, at the top of the tower, magically locked behind a statue of the goddess worshipped herein.  All they have to do is go upstairs with the golden apple - handed to them by Rilli - and say the name of the goddess.

The goddess’ name is Salathawaras.  After a few repetitions from both Father and Sister, Rilli writes it down for the team, and they head straight to the top of the tower.

Well, most of them do.  Oddsock takes a scenic route, investigating two rooms on the way: one open, containing simple sleeping quarters and nothing interesting; the other locked, and smelling faintly of musty fabric and soap.  Oddsock drags his little canine arse across the latter door, and joins his friends.

After inserting the apple and speaking the special name, they gain access to a mostly empty room.  In the very middle sits the Thornhelm on a little pedestal.  Over in a far corner, an oversized suit of armour keeps watch.

Something about this setup makes the team feel somewhat paranoid.  Oddsock approaches the armour and investigates it thoroughly, both outside - using his own doggy senses - and inside - using a Mage Hand.  Finding it to be a normal - if unusually large - suit of armour, he demolishes it in disgust, leading to calls of concern Sassafrass downstairs.

Now that the armour has been disregarded as a threat, Talion approaches the pedestal and eyes up the helm, while Julius makes thorough annotated notes for the future replica.  In a departure from the plan, though, Talion makes the replica now, and takes the true helm in a manner best described as ‘Raiders Of The Lost Ark’ style.

The switch is completed with panache, and nothing terrible happens.  Then, Talion decides to take the replica as well, for reasons.  Still nothing terrible happens.  Sometimes a pedestal is just a pedestal.

Back downstairs, Talion shows off his replica helm.  Rilliriwae is concerned about how sparkewwy it is, and Sassafrass isn’t certain if banditth would like that, but Oddsock’s charm gives them total confidence in the plan.  The party leaves, and Oddsock pisses on the door on the way out.  Another church successfully marked.

To celebrate a job well done, the team gathers at Cones Of Coldness, a nearby gelateria, for a round of ice creams.  Oddsock eats his while it is held by his Mage Hand, to the delight of some nearby urchins.

Suddenly, Talion remembers that his replica helm only lasts for three hours from the point of creation, so the group sets off back towards camp.  He then also remembers that he doesn’t actually need it yet, and launches it into the trees for a squirrel to find.

On the journey back, the group inspects the Thornhelm.  The helm itself is utterly mundane, but the “thorn” rising from it undoubtedly contains a lot of magic - specifically necrotic.  Oddsock tries it on, but is unable to channel the power.  He does look magnificent, though.

The team puts their heads together to try and understand what the thorn could be. After a lot of thought, and some consultation of Julius’ notes, they notice how similar it looks to the teeth of the undead beholder that they fought all those days ago.  Similar, but definitely larger.

Kadis’ face mask begins to twitch, and the tiny baby beholder wobbles forth through the air.  It runs its tiny tentacles along the tooth and coos softly.  Their suspicions as to the nature of this artefact are all but confirmed.

Arriving back at camp, they make the handover to Ebeneezer, who graciously receives the bounty.  Keeping his word, he immediately despatches two of his best boys to Monthend to begin the name-clearing process.

In the meantime, Ebeneezer makes the camp’s sparse facilities available to the group.  They are welcome to bed down, enjoy some freshly roasted two-faced pig, and otherwise make use of what is there.

Julius asks if there is any fish, and, though there isn’t, Ebeneezer points towards a nearby stream where the Otter can try his luck.  His luck is good, and he returns to camp with a fresh fish the full length of a helm’s thorn, plus a couple of pretty little stones.

Talion also has a productive moment, penning a new song about a certain someone.  It’s not as pretty as his previous compositions, but it is certainly passionate, in an embittered way.

His performance catches Ebeneezer’s attention.  The wizened pile of filth knows a thing or two about the woman currently known as Zanthia, as it happens.  He knew her many years and several names ago, back when she was Nora Stumbletoe.

According to Mr Chaotic-Neutral, she fell in with a band of thieves and tricksters known as Olidammara’s Revellers.  She made a reputation for herself quickly, for being very good at two things.  Nobody present sees fit to ask what those things might be.

After this little chat, Talion puts forward a suggestion - that he and his companions should take care of the handoff to the purchaser.  Ebeneezer rejects this immediately - his right hand man Harry will be on that duty - but, after some persuasion, he allows the group to accompany Harry and a few select bodyguards tomorrow morning.

Julius also has things to talk to Talion about.  For a while, he has had concerns about everything that has been going on.  His dear old Pa told him not to stray too far from the cottage, but since meeting with the group he has seen and experienced so many things, good and bad.

What is on the poor little Otter’s mind is - did his Pa lie?  Has he missed out on so much life?  Talion comforts his friend as best he can, as the group settles in for a night of fireside sleep.

Tomorrow will no doubt be another eventful day.

#dnd #5e #dnd homebrew

[beebrainedstudios]

For the Salty Asks Game thing... Number 16: "If you could change anything in the (book), what would you change?" For Vicious/Vengeful and The Illuminae Files? I adore your art!

Hi, first of all, thank you for the compliment and the ask! I’m glad you like my art! As for the question (Spoiler Warning for both series!):

For Vicious/Vengeful:

- Serena needed a little more time to shine, especially in her scenes with Sydney. She went from caring sister to willing to kill a little too quickly for me, there needed to be a bit more development on why she subscribed to Eli’s philosophy. Perhaps some rumination on her thoughts on religion, IDK. This one isn’t huge, but it is a thought.

- DON’T KILL DOMINIC. The Villains series is one of the few I can say doesn’t need to have too many character deaths, as it’s pace and tone are plenty dark enough on their own, especially in Vengeful. Keeping him alive would also ensure there’s plenty of characters in Sydney’s group in Book 3.

- Honestly Marcella needs some work too- she was very compelling but didn’t have enough time to grow. Same with Stell (although his arc and death was timed well enough). I’d have either removed June from the story to give Marcella more time or kept her around for Book 3. You know what, removing June as a whole would do wonders. I like her fine, but she doesn’t contribute much to the plot to me. Maybe bringing her around in Book 3 would have been better.

- Really all of my problems in the Villains series just boils down to too many characters. You have two main leads who are extremely developed and compelling, with their own cast of allegiances; this is enough for such a close, obsessive narrative; trying to shove excess antagonists or side characters into that bogs down the story. Keeping the EON cast is good because it keeps Victor and Eli’s arcs interlocked while also allowing Eli to get his development going (which is a huge part of Vengeful), but Marcella, June, and all of the mob guys are given a huge disservice by being expected to seem as equally complex as two deeply disturbed individuals who are the foundation the story is based on. The first book’s cast gets enough development, with room for characters with no/little backstory like Eli, Mitch, and Dominic to get backstory development in Vengeful while characters like Victor and Sydney develop in the present. Marcella and June (though mostly Marcella- she’s more interesting to me) could have been teased in Vengeful and used primarily in Book 3, which would space things out better. 

- Also, sort of a comment here. I know some people didn’t like how Angie was handled? Personally it didn’t bother me since it made sense that she wouldn’t be focused on by the two POV characters after she died, since they barely can pay attention to anything but their own powers and each other. BUT, keeping her around as an EO to be revealed later could have been really interesting, especially as a sort of play on the classic superhero “Dead hero returns as a villain” trope. Maybe replace June- who comes out of nowhere- with her and have both Eli and Victor confront their feelings and how genuine they were when she sides with Marcella or somebody. That could lead to some really neat plotlines considering she is one of the few things Eli and Victor share in common in their past.

Now for the Illuminae Files:

- The first book is great and I wouldn’t change much- maybe we could spend some more time with Ezra talking about his mom (not much, just a pinch) as she is the driving force behind the files that make up the series, but it isn’t necessary since the book makes it pretty clear she is a horrible woman.

- I honestly need to reread Gemina since I barely remember most of it (I read it a long time ago and alternate reality plots are not my strong suit), but I do remember having trouble reading through the beginning. Illuminae’s cast was so good that I can remember being hesitant to get attached to the new cast, as I didn’t think they would be as interesting (Note; I was wrong). They all were introduced too quickly for me to keep up with, so starting out with a few single POV chapters for both Nik and Hannah instead of a conversation that referenced multiple new people might have been better. That’s purely a matter of personal preference, though. Also, I wanted to know more about the aliens- if the little worm guys exist, do other aliens that are fully sentient exist too, or is it just animalian species? If the answer to either of those is yes, that changes a lot about how I visualize the universe, so a little clarity on that would have been appreciated.

- The third book was fine, as was the new cast, but I knew Asha and Rhys would struggle as new protagonists; there’s no way they could be half as compelling as Kady and Ezra or Nik and Hanna without a bit more room to grow on the pages. Are they fine on their own? Sure. Does it drag down the book? Not really, but it does mean when they were on-page a tiny part of my heart was screaming “get back to the other guys!” The characters aren’t bad at all, but at this point I was hopelessly attached to the cast of the previous two books and I wanted to spend time with them, especially with all the AIDAN drama going on. Asha and Rhys are still a necessary part of the book as perspectives from both Beitech and post-attack Kerenza, but they stood no chance at capturing the audience’s heart as well as the former cast.

- Also, killing the Duke was just mean. That guy was hilarious and his death combined with AIDAN’s pseudo one hurt so much. Give me a break authors, give me a break.

#the illuminae files #illuminae #obsidio #gemina #vicious #vengeful #ve schwab #bee asks

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Okay start us out with those Magicians Opinions!

the first character i ever fell in love with:  LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT QUENTIN COLDWATER.  Okay, but yeah, they really introduced him in a way that worked-worked for me – that whole opening sequence that cuts between Quentin being tense and closed-off and miserable in this hollow, almost angry way in the office of the hospital, and Quentin trying to act normal at a party, making wan jokes while the misery and the anger leaks out of him and makes him just so unpalatable to be around – I mean, Jason Ralph just takes the character by the throat instantly and Goes There.  I remember thinking as I was watching it that this was the first “anxious nerd dude” character I'd ever seen who wasn't being framed as actually funny/weird/charming/vulnerable/the clear audience stand-in, but framed as if he were a real person who's really eaten up by depression and self-loathing, and just as off-putting as that is in real life.  I vividly remember just having that reaction of, “Oh. This is about someone who's really hanging on by his fingernails, not just Hollywood Depressed,” and latching on so hard, because I needed to see that so much, and I needed to root for him to find his reason, not in spite of but because as a character he was resistant to being liked by other people, by the audience. It's not loveable and charming, to hate yourself, to find your life barely tolerable.  It's not a position from which it's easy to see your way forward, and to me Quentin is the most honest expression of that reality that I had ever seen in genre tv.  So like, I get why some people didn't like him in first season – he's intentionally tough to like – but I was ultra-invested from minute one, and literally everything he ever said or did made me love him more.

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: I think I was kind of intrigued by Fen early on – I liked the idea that she was this naive fairy-tale girl who was going to have this harsh awakening when her Destined Prince turned out to be a real person who couldn't fulfill her fantasies, who was going to have to figure out who she was beyond “going to marry the king someday.”  That seemed like an interesting arc, and here and there they were kind of doing it – I love the realpolitik she occasionally comes out with, particularly that one scene on the boat when she's like, “The dipshits from my hometown are going to execute me because of you, so sticking with you is kind of my only option and that's just happening.”  But then...I don't know, she's really irritating, and they got this weird thing in their heads where her problem is that Eliot sucks, instead of that being The Girl Who Will Marry the King Someday is a sucky role to be forced into making a real life out of, and I just gave up trying to like her eventually.

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: I liked Penny/Kady all right, until they started doing the weird thing where “in Doomed Love with Penny” was Kady's only emotional arc, like – they actually had her say that all she ever cared about was being Penny's girlfriend, and that's the kind of thing that kind of retroactively ruins the pairing for me.

my ultimate favorite character™: So after everything I said up top – it's actually Eliot.  That snuck up on me!  And my love for Quentin never went away, not by any means, but.  God, Eliot.

prettiest character: If I try to take an objective stance, I'd say it's probably Margo?  Like, she's just unearthly beautiful.  But there's something about Jason Ralph's goddamn face that – I don't know, it just enthralls me; he does okay-ish at playing Normal-Looking for TV, but also if I look at him for too long it kind of hurts, he's so stupidly gorgeous.

my most hated character: Hyman.  And I thought we were supposed to hate Hyman, but then season 5 allegedly happened, and everyone was like, aw, Hyman's okay!  But – no he's not?  He's obviously not okay? He deeply sucks?  Ugh, season 5.

my OTP: Hi, I'm Milo, and welcome to my Tumblr.  But yeah, it's Quentin/Eliot, canonical soulmates and The Ditch I Will Die In.

my NOTP: You know, they kind of wore me down to the point of “fine, what the fuck ever,” but I still don't support Margo/Josh.  It's bad, it's a bad relationship, it was a bad idea.

favorite episode: I really love Be the Penny, but the actual answer is Escape From the Happy Place.  I feel allegiance to Be the Penny, I have not a negative word to say about it, but Escape from the Happy Place is just a level beyond, it's astonishingly good.

saddest death: This question is a microaggression and I will not stand for it.

favorite season: I'm about to break your brain, but – it's 4!  It's season 4!  I fucking love the first ten episodes of s4!  I love the Monster, I love Bad News Bear, I love Hard Glossy Armor, I love fucking Santa Claus.  I think s4 has this great propulsive energy where the rest of the series has always been plagued by a tendency to kind of throw everything at the wall and see if anything sticks, the stakes are clear, the external villain and the emotional stuff work together for once, everyone's performances are so strong.  The collapse at the end feels so appalling to me in part because I was totally on the ride for most of the season.

least favorite season: I mean, it's season 5, but it didn't have to be. ��I was never going to get over Quentin's death, per se, but I think there were ways to structure the next season that would've been workable, and honestly there are things about s5 that I do like.  I watched most of 5 feeling like it was – messy, but messy in the same way that s2 was messy, the same way The Magicians has always been a little messy, and it wasn't until the end when I really just threw up my hands and was like, okay, I get it, there was never a plan, none of this was going anywhere.  God, the last couple of episodes still frustrate me so much, because right up until that point, there was still time to salvage a lot of character work, but nope!

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: So I don't hate her, and in fact I came to kind of like her eventually, but I did actively hate Julia for a long, long time.  Just.  Like, she really – pushes my buttons in a very specific way, and if she were a real person I would absolutely love myself by having as little contact as possible with Julia, but because everyone except me loves her so much, I really kind of forced myself to delve into her and try to see what people liked about her, and I do think it was a pretty successful project.  I would definitely say at this point that I appreciate Julia as a character, and I have a pretty good sense of what Stuff she activates in me that produces that ruffled reaction, which has allowed me to go beyond Julia Sucks Actually to This Character Is Not Really For Me.  I love and support the 98% of fandom who like Julia!  In my way, I love and support Julia!  But kind of like – a sibling you're sort of forced to into a relationship with, that you love even though they drive you crazy and you're not too sure you will really ever like them.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: The Monster.  I mean, it's not that I wanted a redemption arc for him or anything (although @portraitofemmy has always been onto something with the idea that if the Monster is essentially a child, allowing Quentin to save the world by parenting him would've been a pretty clever payoff for long-term arcs), he's just the kind of villain that is just endlessly fun to watch.

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: I mean, that's a pretty succinct summary of the entire Eliot Waugh Experience.

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: With the caveat that I still don't believe in guilt because these are just imaginary people in imaginary stories, I definitely still think there's a great romantic tragedy right there for the taking with Eliot/Seb.  I wouldn't say the show should have done it, because that would obviously have been just a very different direction than they intended to go, but as a non-canonical ship, I think it's so potentially rich, and someday I'm going to have time to go back to that story I was writing about them, whether or not anyone else ever gives a shit about it.

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: I never could figure out what people's issue was with Julia/Penny23, they seemed to make each other happy.  He was a sweet, supportive dude, and I like their little Wild Thornberrys Interdimensional Adventurers family at the end, although I wish they'd done it on purpose, because “guess what life-changing thing is happening to Julia's body without her consent this week!” was not a well the writers needed to go back to, in my opinion.  But I like the idea that Julia ends up with a good guy and a magic kid and is off doing quests and shit, the whole shebang, I thought that was a nice ending.  For whatever that's worth, and I imagine that from the perspective of a real Julia fan, my opinion at this point is not worth much!

#the magicians

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

What is This Feeling? || Deirdre and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: @deathduty and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: A banshee and a hunter end up stuck in a witch’s magic circle. It’s all fun times. CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of emotional abuse

The forest was always familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Kaden spent his life in various parts of the woods. They were all the same and they were all different. There were always trees and birds and branches. Always monsters and teeth and claws. But they all felt different in the end, just enough. White Crest’s woods felt dangerous and comforting all at once, like it could never pick what it was or who it was for. Some stupid part of it led Kaden back into the thick of it. His knife was still out there, the blade stuck straight into a werewolf’s skull. He could leave it there. That would be simple. He could get a new knife, it hardly mattered. Sure, silver knives were expensive but they’d be easy enough to acquire in this town. Not like he didn't have others, anyway.

It didn’t matter.

He wound his way through the woods anyway. Something pulled him there. Maybe he was looking for comfort, something to dull the aching loneliness that kept building and building every day since the incident in the morgue. Maybe. He wasn’t sure that was it. There was something else. Some sick desire to find the body of the werewolf, see just how very dead it was. Who knew. But he didn’t find his knife. And he didn’t find the body. What he did find was so much worse. “What are you doing out here?” he asked the fae across the way from him. Of all the banshees he wanted to see, she wasn’t the singular one. Her presence didn’t bring him any comfort. In fact, it might be the opposite. “Or can you not tell me?” he added, huffing out a sad laugh. The joke was mostly for his sake, anyway.

Hunting rabbits was a harder venture than Deirdre remembered it being. Of course, the creatures were experts at being hunted; always on alert, swift in the ways they darted around the forest floor, almost as if they loathed to be seen. The game of luring and trapping was only interesting to Deirdre if her prey were touch more advanced than rabbits--humans were interesting creatures when stripped of their comforts. She’d seen enough men try to become like the rabbits; wide eyed, clawing at the ground for speed that would never come to them. Even as survival was written into their bodies, they never were anything like the rabbits. But it didn’t matter. Her task was to catch a rabbit or two, the likelihood of there being any humans around for her to play her games on was too low to even bother getting excited at the idea. As she considered what method she might employ this week (throwing the wide net of a scream and seeing who she’d caught in it was getting boring, on account of her having done it last week), one of such humans she never thought she’d see emerged between the shadows and trees. She frowned as more and more of him came into light. “Oh,” she said, “it’s you.” Kaden Langley was a human that was never any fun, unless he was tumbling down stairs. She could feel the bitterness in his question like it was its own person standing between them. “What? No ‘hello’? No ‘how are you doing’? Where are your manners?” She scoffed in mock insult, grinning widely as she considered what she could do with him (if there just happened to be some moose poop there, and she just happened to push Kaden into it…) “You really want to know what I’m doing?” Her delight grew devilish across her face. “I’m hunting rabbits. I happen to quite like them dead.”

It had been a solid minute and Kaden was already ready for this interaction to be over. It was really unfortunate that Deirdre was integral to Regan and Morgan’s life. He supposed Blanche and Ariana cared for her, too. There was no way to remove Deirdre completely from his life. Or himself from hers. Cleary to both of their dismay. “Hello, Deirdre. Yes. It’s me. Funny enough,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Nope, no ‘how are you doing.’ Because I don’t really care. Noticed you didn’t ask me that, either,” he said with a shrug. Then again, he was sure he looked a little worse for wear. As much as he tried to look less disheveled than he felt, whe wasn’t entirely certain that he’d succeeded.  

“Rabbits, huh? Why are--” Kaden paused and blinked a moment. Wait. Why was he even engaging? “You know what, never mind. I don’t care. Hunting rabbits isn’t illegal. I have questions. But you know, I really don’t give a shit what the answers are. Or about your well being. Or anything at all to do with you.” He felt the tinge of a lie staining his words. He did care about something to do with her. He wanted to know more about what sort of training she was pulling Regan through, why he couldn’t know or “didn’t really want to know.” He cared a lot about Regan’s well being and, unfortunately, Deirdre Dolan had a direct effect on it at the moment. He balled his hand into a fist, squeezing it at his side.

Not worth it, none of it. Kaden sighed and walked past her, storming through the leaves, happy to have her gone and out of his life for another however long it might pleasantly be. His day was only looking up and he was going to forget all about this and move-- “Putain!’ Kaden shouted, his hands jumped up to clutch his nose. What the fuck? It felt like he ran into a fucking wall. Kaden looked around for some source of the barrier but there was nothing there. He tentatively took a step forward, but his knee rammed into the hidden wall. “Shit, shit, what the--” Kaden grabbed his knee and rubbed it, trying to act like it didn’t hurt half as much as it did. He sighed and put his hand out to touch the barrier. “Hello, and welcome to the trust circle,” a woman's disembodied voice boomed into the forest surrounding them. “Let’s begin your healing together.” Kaden stood, blinking, hoping he was hallucinating. Was he stuck with-- No. No, no no. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Deirdre smiled, “no, I didn’t ask you either.” If there was one thing she could trust, Kaden must have been as annoyed with her as she was of him. Unfortunately, Kaden lacked flair. And while Deirdre was thinking of ways to torment him, she was sure his simple mind only thought of ways to leave. “Is that so?” She stepped aside as he walked past her, leaving her biting comments to herself. There was a lot she could have said to urk him, but maybe it was for the better that he left. She had her hunting to do and could do without an audience. She sighed and began her own trek away when his shouting snapped her attention back. She watched him collide with an invisible wall with amusement before pressing her own hand out and feeling that her end was blocked off as well. Less amusing. A woman’s voice took the air and Deirdre’s displeasure shifted to concern. She threw a knife, whizzing past Kaden, watching her weapon bounce off air and tumble down. “Oh no,” she hissed, walking along the curved edge of their cage. No holes. No gaps. No secret doors. “She wasn’t joking when she called this a circle.” But what was that other part? Trust? She glanced over at Kaden; as if she could trust him. She’d sooner starve to death in their circle than try. Deirdre pulled out her phone, hoping to shoot Morgan a text, finding instead that the cursed rectangle of foregin technology would not operate. “What is this!?” She snapped at Kaden. “I have things to do!” Deirdre turned her head up to the sky, yelling at the disembodied woman. “I have important things to do!”

Compelled by a great idea, Deirdre pulled another knife out. “Maybe I'll just end this quickly.” The woman’s voice chimed in again, “your healing starts with your words.” Deirdre groaned, petulant as she sensed her plan of murder was a losing battle. Huffing, she crossed her arms and slumped down. “Dig us a hole out of this nightmare prison, Kady. Chop chop.”

“Putain!” Kaden shouted as a knife flew past his head, at most an inch away from slicing into his ear. Or worse, his hair. “What the fuck? Are you trying to kill me?!” That was a stupid question. Even when she wasn’t trying, there was no doubt she wished him dead. For all their differences, they shared that in common. He stood, arms folded as he watched her make her way around the circle, confirming they were trapped. Together. The sigh he let out was so intense he was shocked it didn’t rustle the leaves. What a perfect cap to a truly shitty week. He should have seen it coming, really. He’d wondered if the ground could swallow him up whole when sitting on the curb across from Deirdre. He honestly hoped for it once again. Just to make sure, Kaden pulled out his own knife, poked at the barrier. It didn’t break through, pierce anything, not even a little bit. He bent down by the ground, couldn’t make any marks in the dirt to throw off the magic either. “Merde.”

Kaden glanced up to see Deirdre, her own knife in hand and a glint in her eye. “Hey!” He stumbled up and held out his own weapon in defense, ready to throw down if that’s what this was finally coming to. It wasn’t murder then, it was just killing in self defense, completely justifiable. He wasn’t sure if the words from above were a comfort or a disappointment. His shoulders drop and his stance relaxed. “I’m not digging you shit,” he said. “I tried poking at the ground, there’s not disturbing the earth around this bullshit barrier.” The voice came thundering back, “you are correct. In order to experience true growth and go your separate ways feeling better and more whole again, you have a few options.” Kaden reconsidered the need for witch hunters in that very moment. “You can either find a way to truly appreciate something true about each other. Or you can gain a real understanding about your partner in the circle--”

“Hey, no, not a partner!” Kaden shouted back at the sky. “Excuse me, pushy poutine, no interruptions please!” the voice continued. “You and your companion can only leave here once you use your words to build a better relationship between one another. I look forward to experiencing your new found light both in and out of the circle. Blessed be.” Kaden rubbed his temples. This was some next level new age garbage. It made Morgan’s rocks from way back when look grounded. “Fucking hell. Where do you want to start? You know, aside from trying to stab one another. Since it sounds like that just leaves one of us alive stuck here with a dead body until this witch comes back from whatever trip to la la land she’s taking.”

Admitting that she was trying to kill Kaden, or that she wanted to, or that she enjoyed making him think that she wanted to, would be like admitting that she breathed air. Deirdre simply shrugged instead, noting that Kaden’s vocabulary truly was just ‘merde’ and ‘putain’. Maybe she’d get him a nice thesaurus so he could get his feelings out more eloquently. She listened to the woman explain their torture to them, and considered that she really would be dying here. To appreciate Kaden would be to compliment a pile of shit, their value being limited to how great of a fertilizer they made. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t be made to do it. No witch was going to make her. “I appreciate how much of an idiot you are,” she said, raising her hand to knock against the barrier that was--unfortunately--still there. “Well,” Deirdre threw her hands up, “I tried.” She pulled her jacket off and bundled it together, placing it down on the ground as a make-shift pillow. She adjusted herself to get a better sleeping position, but the dirt was gross, her pillow was terrible, and her company was even worse. “I would love to be stuck here with a dead body, they’re far more interesting than you.” And though it wasn’t a compliment at all, Deirdre raised her hand and knocked it against the barrier again. “I don’t think this witch is coming for us. She sounds very dedicated to her healing…” Deirdre yawned and closed her eyes. Accepting her death here, even if she hadn’t screamed for it yet. Maybe that would come some weeks into starving?

After a moment, Deirdre tried again, “your face is slightly above average.” Her hand hit the barrier. She sighed, stirring herself from slumber that wouldn’t come to her anyway, not under these circumstances. “Look, why don’t you tell me something very embarrassing about you and then maybe I’ll--” She gestured quotations in the air. “‘Gain a real understanding of you’. And, well, I would share something embarrassing about myself but I just don’t have any flaws.” She leaned against the barrier, taking her jacket-pillow and stuffing it behind her neck. “Of all the rings to stumble in...it just had to be some witch’s counselling ring.”  

Of course. Insults from Deirdre. How original. Kaden rolled his eyes at her comments but they hardly bothered him. What did was watching her curl up on the forest floor. “You’re not really taking a nap are you? Come on.” He had a feeling he’d be rolling his eyes a lot for the next however long they’d be stuck there. If what the witch said was true, likely hours. Maybe days. Especially with how helpful his current key to getting out of here was being. Bordel de merde. He picked his way along the barrier, looking for any hole she might have missed. “Slightly above average?” Kaden was really wishing that hole in the ground scenario would become real. But only if he could push Deirdre down the pit and watch her fall. “I’m not telling you anything embarrassing, fuck off.” His eyes were going to get tired if they kept rolling around in his fucking head. The last thing he planned to do was be the first one to open up. Not with her.

But they had to do something. Kaden couldn’t find any other way out. And if he didn’t start talking, apparently she was about to doze off. Then again, if she did, throwing rocks at her to wake her up sounded more fun than this. “Fine. Whatever. I, uh,” he paused, searching his mind for something he didn’t hate about Deirdre. It was really a tall order. “I, uh, appreciate that you’re helping Regan. I guess.” He pressed his hand to the barrier. “No lies, please,” the voice whispered. “Come on! It is not a lie! And why didn’t you do that when she mentioned my face? But really, come on, I appreciate that she’s helping Regan, why wouldn’t I appreciate that? Why are you a pice of--” He grumbled and kicked at the stupid barrier. Which hurt his foot. Fucking bullshit circle. Couldn’t even tell the truth from a lie, how the hell were they getting out of there? Because he did appreciate her help with Regan. Didn’t he? He thought of the bandage on her hand, her hurting herself, how closed up she’d been, how much she was isolating and hiding from him. He hated it, all of it. And all he could wonder while glancing over at Deirdre was if Regan was going to have to become more like her, something farther from-- “Stupid fucking cirlce,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t even know how we’re supposed to do this. I mean. What sort of shit is this witch even looking for?” He kicked some more leaves on the ground.

Kaden’s hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, searching his mind for anything likeable about Deirdre. She made Morgan happy. But really if there was anyone else who could do that, he’d swap them out in a heartbeat. One of his, not hers. Anyway, that didn’t feel like what the witch wanted. “Well. You helped with that bies that one time.” A small sliver of the  previously invisible circle, maybe an inch or two, started to glow and turned green. Huh. “You showed a lot of control. With your scream. Which I’m learning is hard. Or something.” Two more inches. “Alright, I moved the dial, it’s your turn.” One inch shrunk back. Fuck this fucking witch.

“I wasn’t lying about your face being slightly above average,” Deirdre laughed, though her amusement was short-lived. Kaden’s words echoed around her, and beyond them, the booming chiding of their witch captor. No lies, please. Of course he didn’t appreciate it, who would? Deirdre opened her eyes, pulling her jacket out from behind her and staring at the leather she just wrinkled. She tried to straighten it out with her fingers as Kaden continued his hysterics. She wanted to fix things, but ironing out leather with her fingers was as futile an effort as trying to teach a banshee kindly was. He said it was her turn, but her mind hadn’t stirred from his earlier lie. “I know you hate it,” she said, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry Regan couldn’t tell you--at first, anyway. I’m sorry I did that to you.” The green ring grew and Deirdre turned her gaze back down to her jacket, the more she looked at the stupid green glow, the worse she felt about it. She wanted it to go back down, she wanted to spew as many terrible things as she could think of. Something about his hair, another thing about the idiotic way he spoke, something else about how annoying his grumbling was. Each green inch felt like a layer of her that had been peeled raw, and she hadn’t even said anything yet. “I knew you’d try to stop it...because you love her. I know you do. I trust that you do. And taking her away from the pain I have to deliver...that’s exactly the kind of thing someone who loved her would do.” No one ever tried to take her away from anything, and she closed her eyes tightly before they could water anymore than they already had. She swallowed, opening her eyes only when her breathing returned to its steady, ambivalent inhales and exhales. “I know you love how much she cares about people, but she can’t---” Deirdre swallowed again, going back to her attempt to sleep on the floor. Maybe this nightmare would be over when she woke up, maybe Kaden would grow some courage and just stab her already. She bundled the jacket up under her head and flipped over, staring at the forest instead of whatever expression Kaden must have been giving her.

“I don’t care about people,” she said after a moment, “maybe I did once, but I don’t anymore. Maybe the same thing happens to Regan, maybe she figures out control and kindness in a way generations of banshees couldn’t. I don’t know. I can’t give you whatever hope you’re looking for.” Deirdre closed her eyes, finding darkness suddenly far more comforting than the trees. “I feel sorry for you, Kaden.” She couldn’t tell how much she’d moved the green up with her dialogue, but she found quickly that she didn’t care. If her goal had been freeing them, she would have picked something much easier to compliment---she did appreciate how hard he tried, how much he cared, and okay, maybe she didn’t completely hate him. But she had bared her vulnerabilities enough for one lifetime, and couldn’t stomach the idea of doing anymore of it. She didn’t want to be Kaden’s friend, she didn’t want to ‘gain an understanding’ or appreciate him. She wanted to catch the damn rabbits she’d come here for and go home to the only place where being herself didn’t feel like a chore or a crime. “Just compliment my ass and get this over with.”

With each word Deirdre spoke, the circle glowed more and more and Kaden’s brows furrowed, creases in his forehead getting deeper and deeper. She was sorry Regan couldn’t tell him? But why? She was the one who-- But it was true. It had to be. The magic of the circle confirmed it. She said the same thing as Morgan and Regan. That they knew he’d try to stop it. He bit his lip, considering the words over again. They knew. But he wasn’t sure. No part of him wanted to see her in pain, of course not. But she was in pain not being in control. Hurting people. And he had an obligation, a duty to protect humanity. He’d ignored it for so long with Regan. At what point did he owe it to humanity, to all of them, to step back and let this happen? “I can’t tell anymore what’s crueler. Stopping it or letting it continue,” he said, voice small and tight. He didn’t want to betray too much emotion. “I hate that she has to-- I still haven’t asked for details so I don’t--” It was something he hadn’t tackled yet. And not something he was sure he wanted to, not yet. “But I do understand why it has to. So trust that much.” He knew hard training. If anyone understood having to go through hard and painful training to come out better for it, he did. And he was the first to say that it was lack of control that made werewolves dangerous. So how could he sit here, think that Regan didn’t need control. He understood.

Or Kaden thought he did. “What do you mean she can’t--” Her words gripped him like a chokehold and he went still. What they’d all said, how much he didn’t want to know about this, he assumed it was physical damage they were referring to. And sure, they were right, the thought of her body mangled and torn into, the thought of her suffering made him want to rip apart whoever was causing it. But physical damage healed. This, what Deirdre just suggested, it--- He couldn’t move. Who was Regan if she didn’t care about people? What was the point if she couldn’t give a shit about anyone? What about her family? Why was he even trying if the ‘after’ Morgan kept talking about would leave Regan unable to care about hi-- No. He clenched his jaw and fought against the tightness in his chest. Deirdre was the last person he was going to cry in front of. He took the tightness and balled it into a fist and punched the barrier. It didn’t give. It didn’t even show any wear. There was no evidence left to make him feel better other than the throbbing through his knuckles.

Kaden shook out his hand, welcome for the pain as a distraction, still unable to meet Deirdre’s eyes. “You found a way to care about Morgan. Even-- I mean, you let her in. Somehow. I--” The tightness was back, this time around his throat. Or maybe it never left. “You care about Regan. You care enough to-- I mean you don’t sound like you want to do this.” He inhaled deep. He refused to do the stupid breahting exercises that Regan had treid to show him. They all collectively knew it was crap. All of it. “I wouldn’t want to. I mean. Not that I’d-- I just mean. Hunter training. I swore I’d never. So I get if--” Even without finishing a sentence completely, small bits of green picked their way around the circle. It didn’t matter. “Morgan keeps trying to tell me there’s an ‘after’ to look forward to. I’m-- I’m terrified of what ‘after’ looks like. For both of us.” He caught a glimpse of Deirdre, shut down, turned away, closed off. He clenched his jaw and wished like hell there was no part of it that felt like looking in a mirror, though maybe a more distant one. “For all of us.”

The answer was clear to Deirdre; too obvious to be kept to herself. “Letting it continue is worse,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Ignorance is a gift.” There were no winners here, exactly, but she knew her truth. And her truth was rolled with anger--she loathed the trees that watched in silence, the dirt that erased her evidence, and her family that looked the other way. It was far worse to be that child, naive and desperate, eating the words of the adults around her, who spoke often of how normal her pain was to be. It was worse to have her trust twisted, her hope of something better crushed so deliberately. It was worse that they knew, and didn’t act. It would always be worse. “I don’t know what your parents did to you,” she whispered, “I thought you might know...how truly terrible it all is.” And if he knew, if he thought about it for a second longer, he might realize what terrible curse it was to have even the sliver of truth that he did. All she could remember now was the faint whispers of a girl that wanted to be saved, the one whose eyes were often lost in the horizon beyond her cramped, creaky bedroom. Somedays, it was as if that child had never existed at all, if it weren’t for the memory of comfort burning in her ears. They told her it would be okay, and that was worse. It would always be. The pain she could forget, if she allowed herself to, but their lies she could never.

Even if Regan wasn’t a child, she was still as vulnerable, as susceptible to the lies others would find themselves virtuous in giving. And what exactly did Deirdre tell the man that loved Regan? Did she lie too? Did she let him think about it, for just a second, looking at the cold woman in front of him, to piece together the truth on his own? There was no magical, kind, better way. There was no saving them, not anymore. She sat up, deliberate in the way her gaze stayed far away from him, and stuck on the muddy ground instead. Distantly, she heard a dull thud, and imagined a number of places that could have stirred it. She didn’t dare chase an explanation for the sound. “Regan and I are very different. She became a doctor, I chose to look at people like numbers--things. After roughly seventeen years, to much heart-ache, I learned how to love someone--and most of the time I feel like I’m doing it wrong anyway. Does that sound right to you? Do you really want to compare me to her? Do you really want to disappoint yourself like that?” She reached out and plucked a dead leaf from where it had been trapped, crushed and embedded, in the mud. She pulled at the dull green, tearing the leaf apart absently. “‘After’ is an endearingly Morgan-like answer. There is no after, Kaden. This is it. This is all it is. This is all it ever is.” When the leaf was nothing but shred, she allowed the pieces to slip between her fingers, fluttering back to the mud below. “No, I don’t want to be doing this. But what I want doesn’t matter, it never has. I do what must be done. And I can tell you, with certainty, that there is no after. This---” She laughed bitterly, gesturing around, “--isn’t even an ‘after’ for me. Control will always be a life-long quest, I can’t forget who I am, not for one second.” Finally, she turned to him, her face impassive, as she had willed it to be--as she had been trained to make it. “If you want to believe in happy endings Kaden, then don’t let me stop you. One of us should be a little hopeful, for Regan’s sake.”

Deirdre picked another leaf from the ground, twirling it around in her fingers. This one was older, and had begun its slow process of decomposition. “Don’t be scared of Fate, it isn’t kind enough to care what you think. You can run yourself to the ground worrying, best to just hope instead. It’d save your heart some trouble. Whatever is going to happen to us has already begun...we’re all just leaves, Kaden, might as well fall gracefully.”

The response he got was not the response Kaden expected. The only thing he had been told more often by now than “he didn’t want to know,” was that “he couldn’t interfere.” “But I tho--” The words couldn’t leave his lips. It wasn’t true. He didn’t think. He hadn’t thought. He was doing everything in his power not to, wasn’t he? For as much as he imagined and fretted, there were spaces in his mind too dark to touch, too deep and tucked away to see. Her words reached into them like a hand, yanking them out of their graves lest they consume him and swallow him whole. What his parents did to him. It hit him like a chill down his spine colder than any he felt near any monster. He didn’t dwell long on what it was they did to him for any longer than he had to. Because they did what they had to. And that was that. Even then, he knew. He felt what she said. He knew he never wanted a child. For the simple fact he never wanted to train a hunter.

Kaden missed the moment that he’d slumped to the forest floor, hands resting on his knees, back against the barrier, eyes glazed and staring straight ahead. She thought he might know how truly terrible it was. Which was exactly what had scared him from the beginning. If he did, that was too much. And if he didn’t, it was even worse. The trees moved side to side. No, that wasn’t right. He was shaking his head. “She needs control. For-- She needs it. She--” An early phrase rang in his ears. Ignorance. Was it a gift? Would Regan be suffering so much now if she hadn't been kept in the dark? Or had it been the only thing to allow her some happiness? The last she’d ever have before-- Something bubbled up to his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was bitterness or bile. He swallowed it back either way.

A puff of air huffed through his nose, something that could be a laugh in another context. “Of course I don’t want to compare her to you. I’d never date you in a million years.” Mostly because she was Deirdre but also because he heard too many mirrors of his own thoughts from her mouth, too many things that felt like eerie echoes of his own life. Still, his attempt at lightening the mood left him feeling just as weighed down and sunk into the ground as before. Maybe more. There was no after. He’d known it. Had he thought about it. He’d known all along. Kaden didn’t get to keep anything good, not for long. Regan was too good for him in every sense. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t get to hold onto that sense of normal she desperately craved, didn’t get to have her life be a little easier. “I should have known it was too good to be true. About as real as the charger rock she made me.” Morgan was truly amazing at building up hope. Sometimes he wondered at what cost. His eyes remained fixed on the blur of trees in front of him, unfocused. It didn’t matter what was there, not really. He could look closer, focus on the branches or the leaves, the patterns of the bark if he wanted. But it didn’t matter. What the fuck did? What was the point? At least when he was a hunter and nothing more, he had that much. He had a purpose, a direction, clear and lasered in. Who cared if he was really happy? “My mother always told me that happiness is silly and fleeting. Family and honor and duty is what’s left when the frivolousness of ‘joy’ fades.” Did he have any of that to even fall back on anymore? He had barely any family to speak of and his honor and duty were tarnished by now at best.

“There’s a reason I made a point not to care about anyone. Ever.” Kaden wasn’t sure why he was speaking, why the words spilled out. He didn’t need her to know or care or, god forbid, sympathize. “There was a fucking good reason.” Because it hurt. When things went wrong, when they went wrong like they always did, it just hurt. The highs? Fuck the highs, the lows were prolonged and sank deeper than the pit burring through his stomach. “I forgot how to stop. I used to know.” The few bursts of laughter that escaped his lips were hollow. If he really wanted to stop caring, he knew a way. Or rather Deirdre did. Make it joint fucking lessons. That’d really solve their problems, wouldn’t it? No one would care and nothing would matter and life could go back to being simple and clean. There was right and there was wrong, black and white, and the middle was all bulslhit. He tried to focus on the leaf twisting in her hand, but his vision wouldn’t let him. All he saw were blurs of the swirling brown and yellow, small tinges of red. “Yeah I don’t think graceful is a word that’s ever applied to me. Guess I’m shit out of luck.”

Silence filled their circular prison, interrupted with half-sentences that died against Kaden’s lips before he dared finish his thoughts. Deirdre could hear the tenseness in his voice, the confusion and anger that broiled beneath it. She imagined his face was going through quite the journey, but she wouldn’t look up to check. She had no fondness for the way his lips pursed or brows furrowed, and she was happy enough leaving her vision of him blank. She felt that she knew some strange corner of his mind too well, and wouldn’t risk knowing any more. It was his mention of Morgan—indirectly—that made her attention snap towards him. She bristled, unsure why it felt like an insult, but uninterested in challenging the feeling anyway. “Don’t say that,” she hissed, “about Morgan she—“ But what was she to say? Often her hope felt too good to be true, too good to be deserved. She had her own struggles with accepting it, but she loved it all the same. “I can be defeatist. I know that.” Morgan had said as much. “But she...Morgan is...she’s good. The things she says, sometimes they sound like a dream, but they’re worth believing in.” She swallowed, turning her attention back to the leaves and the mud. She’d lost her staring spot and was desperate to find a new one. It occurred to her briefly, between deciding which patches of dirt would be better to look at, that it was funny how quickly her tone changed where Morgan was concerned. But whatever that meant, she didn’t think about it too long. The equation was simple, she didn’t much enjoy anyone thinking Morgan’s ideas were pointless, even if she had dismissed them herself. “I know what I said. But I don’t see things like Morgan does. I don’t feel an ‘after’, I just feel like nothing. All the time. Except—“ she swallowed. “Except when I’m with her. I feel things then, I feel like a person. And it’s that feeling...that’s dangerous. To be a person, who loves and cares, is dangerous. It’s what the screams feed on.” It was what she was teaching Regan to ignore, and by providence, what she was remembering how to ignore for herself.

She tilted her head up, laughing into the cold sky. “Fates, my mother says the exact same thing about happiness.” Deirdre’s stomach churned, she snipped whatever invisible tether of connection might have been forming between them—one shared shitty childhood experience didn’t make them equals. But she understood as deeply as one could why he didn’t want to care for people, and why he couldn’t stop caring now. Finally, she turned to him. “Being happy is nice, isn’t it? Being loved. Loving someone...some people, even. Caring about them. Having that kind of life is nice, isn’t it? It feels wrong, like maybe you should be off doing the killing you were born to do instead of cuddling on a couch. Like maybe you’re betraying yourself, your family, everything you were born to do—Fates, betraying humanity, even.” She offered a small smile, as weak as it was fleeting. “I know what I said. I know what I’ve been saying. But this isn’t about me, or how I feel. That’s not your concern. The truth is, Morgan taught me how to love and care. And when Regan has learned control, if you’re still around, you can teach her again, just the same. And I promise you, lessons in love are far more valuable. You’re not graceful, no. You’re terribly clumsy. But so is life, so is love. And she needs clumsy; earnest. She needs you. You’re not out of luck, Kaden. As long as you’re in love, you’re the luckiest.”

Deirdre erupted in laughter, as if possessed by the spirit of madness. Hot tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, streaming down her face in much of the same clumsy way she described; stuck where she wiped them haphazardly, leaving salty traces against her lips, free to discredit all she claimed about coldness and unfeeling. “Fates,” she cursed, wiping at more tears, “I know what I was saying. I know how stupid this sounds coming from me now. But you mentioned Morgan’s charge rock and I remembered...I don’t know a thing….and also that Morgan has wonderful ideas, always. And especially about that rock.” Deirdre sighed, confident enough that she wasn’t an embarrassing mess of tears and snot. “We just sound so fucking depressing that I couldn’t take it anymore. I know you want to be happy, Kaden. And I know that you can’t go back to your old life of hunting and not caring because this new one is so much better. And I know now that you have to love Regan more than ever, better than ever, because she needs it. She’s hurting, exactly as bad as you think she is, probably exactly as bad as you did once, and you shouldn’t listen to whatever crap I tell you because that’s the only thing that matters—you love Regan, she loves you.”

Deirdre stood and brushed her hands clean against her pants. “You ought to believe in yourself a little more, Kaden. So what if she forgets how to care about you? When you met her, I don’t think she had a single friend. Now she’s got White Crest’s broodiest boyfriend and a gaggle of people she feels the need to distance from in the first place. You clearly seduced her from a lonely life of autopsies, you can seduce her from one of ritual pain. Don’t look to me for some magical charge-rock hope, I’ve got none to spare for you, but if you’d just take a second to think, you’d realize you already have it.” She sighed, itching to see where the green was now, though wholly afraid it hadn’t moved at all.

Kaden was startled by the sudden ire thrown his way. Had he even said anything disparaging about his friend? Nothing he said was untrue. Hell, he still had the stupid rock. Right. He remembered why he kept it. Because she-- Right. He used his palm to wipe away the stupid tear that broke through his defenses. “She is good. Hell he’s talked me off a few ledges. I know that.” Odd enough, though, Deirdre’s words had a smile creeping onto his face. It wasn’t the most lighthearted topic, sure, but he could feel how much Deirdre cared for his friend. It was good to see and know. She deserved it; someone who loved her back as much as she loved her. Even if he was sure Deirdre thought she deserved better. Hell, he thought that Regan did most of the time. “Maybe it is dangerous. But I think she’d say it’s worth the risk. I mean, all things considered.” He picked up a stick from the ground and started scratching small lines in the dirt, watched it break up, shift around and move away with each line he made. He knew he considered every second he was with Regan worth the risk. And she was far riskier to be around at the moment. There was no doubt in his mind Morgan would say the same. Only likely she’d say it more verbosely and poetically. That was certain something she and Deirdre had in common that he lacked.

Her laughter was almost off-putting, uncomfortable at first but Kaden couldn’t argue the need to relieve some tension and found his laughter following behind hers. “Funny, I don’t think either of our mothers would be thrilled to know they had anything in common.” Somehow that was easier to absorb than the rest of what she said. Kaden kept his focus on the lines he was drawing into the dirt. Deirdre talked a lot. A lot. And all of it was... She didn’t mean it, right? She was working so hard to chip away at Regan’s humanity, to bottle her up. Why would she push him to undo it? It definitely didn’t seem like lessons in love and compassion were more important at the moment, either. If they were then fuck all of them, they wouldn’t have to do any of this. And, really? He’d have to teach Regan to love and care? “Right. Who the fuck am I to teach anyone about love and caring.” The laughter was half hearted by then. Regan needed him. He was the luckiest. Neither of those felt true just then. He hadn’t missed the comment of “if you’re still around.” He fucking hated the sound of that. It felt like a balancing act of who would push away who first. Both because they stupidly cared too much and were afraid of hurting each other. Putain, all of this was too complicated. Maybe the real reason he avoided commitment was due to all the fucking complications. It was certainly part of it. “Come on, I’m only lucky if she loves me. Otherwise I’m just an idiot.”

The lines in the ground were no longer lines anymore but one big rut that he kept digging farther and farther into the ground. “Yeah well when we’re both surrounded by death so much, it’s hard to be a lively bunch.” It was a poor attempt at a joke but he laughed at it anyway. “You seem to know a lot about me, huh?” She wasn’t wrong, though. He did want to be happy and he wasn’t sure if he could ever go back to his old life. And he did feel like it was a betrayal to everything he was taught to do and be. He kind of hated how much she understood about him. And it sure sounded like it was coming from a place of real understanding, like she was talking about herself. He wasn’t sure if he hated knowing that would push that stupid green farther along the circle’s edge. “It’s a lot fucking harder to do when it hurts. I never jumped into any of this shit because. It hurts. When things go wrong.” And they always did. It was his life. Things always went wrong. “But I’ll keep that in mind. You know. While you’re torturing my girlfriend.” He wasn’t sure if it was funny or not. He wasn’t sure if he cared either way or if that was his intent. It likely didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything.

It was truly impressive how much Deirdre could talk. And how she could still insult him all while trying to encourage him. “I am not the broodiest. Fuck off,” Kaden said, taking a small pebble and chucking it towards her, mostly in jest, a small attempt at a smile on his face. It didn’t linger long as he looked up at her, still sitting and leaning against the invisible wall of the circle. It was strange to have Deirdre of all people giving him a pep talk, telling him he could and even should hold onto Regan. “I don’t want to be the one to undo it all. To leave her a target for wardens and dangerous to everyone around her. And fuck I don’t want to prolong this shit either.” He shook his head and looked to the sky, hoping that this wasn’t the moment that the barrier gave way. “Maybe I’m just being selfish.” Everything Deirdre said seemed to suggest the opposite. But how much stock did he really put in her words? He was shirking his duty for love and “happiness,” something that his mother would tell him was pointless and completely selfish. It was certainly affecting his hunting, there was no doubt there. Worrying if he died absolutely made him worse at what he did and had to do. On top of that, the love and happiness he was chasing might be pointless and might damage the very thing Regan was trying to, undo the sacrifice she was making. It was probably true. He was being selfish. And he was so selfish that he wasn’t going to quit now. “Well one thing’s for sure. We have to get her out of that fucking shed.”

“You’re lucky still by virtue of her having loved you at all.” Deirdre breathed, done with her monologue of strange, discordant thoughts. She winced at his mention of torture, as true as it was, nodded at his admission of fearing pain, and laughed again, as he continued. She dodged his pebble narrowly, holding her tongue at chiding him for throwing it in the first place. If she could toss him down the stairs, he could get away with one pebble toss. She didn’t have the energy to argue it much, anyway. “Who would’ve thought that a man so accustomed to pain would be afraid of it?” She didn’t have any poetic observation to make about it, she just laughed, clutching her stomach and falling over. It wasn’t the funniest thing, him seemingly having only two outfits he wore on rotation was funnier, but she could stop laughing about it. She had begun the noisy process of expelling their self-pity out, and as her laughter hiccuped to a stop and her vision focused on the sky--she thought that maybe, just right now, Kaden wasn’t so bad.

“It’s not undoing it, by the way.” Deirdre sighed, standing up and brushing herself off. “I’m no more a target now than I was the months before I knew Morgan. It’s giving her a life, Kaden. You know how empty your own life was before finding friends and love here, I’m sure. Or even how empty her own life must have been. You don’t want that for her. You’re not being selfish. You love her, you should know better.” She smiled, picking her jacket off the floor and slipping it on after another bout of vigorous dusting. Beyond him, she could see finally that the green had crept up to its end. She didn’t like what that meant, emotionally, but she was pleased to think of what it would mean physically. “Or maybe you are being selfish. But a little selfishness is due; if wanting Regan is going to save her life, then be selfish. Ask for her. Love her. Brood in her arms--” She waved her hand in the air, “I don’t know, what ever it is that you two do.” The rules she set in place for Regan, all the unfeeling she had to do, all the hating herself, and then not caring about herself, she knew she was undermining it right then and there by telling her boyfriend of the value of teaching her the opposite, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be different from her mother in some way, help Regan well and truly, and this was it. She trusted Kaden; she trusted him to love Regan against all this pain, against the things he’d been taught. She trusted him to believe in her, believe that she would come back to herself one day. And she trusted him to wait. After all of it, if it was possible for Regan to still be in control of her screams, then they’d have proven centuries of banshee training wrong. Maybe there was, maybe there could be, a better way.

Deirdre smiled, “Kaden...I appreciate you.”

“Yeah but past tense still fucking sucks.” The stick he was scratching into the dirt with snapped. Kaden sighed. Stupid piece of shit. He was curious to know how much longer they’d be here, how far they’d come, but he was entirely afraid to look and opted instead to lean his head back against the barrier. “Physical pain is much easier than this emotion crap,” he retorted. He had a feeling some people would disagree, but physical pain he trained for. The body helped minimize it in a lot more ways than people always realized and it was a matter of tapping into that, making it work for you. Emotions? They were bullshit and complicated and stupid. And he hated how much more value he wanted to place on them recently. The physical pain would end. Emotional crap lingered. Death taught him that, ironically. The same way a harbinger of death taught him what the highs felt like, the rewards that strung him along long enough to put up with the pain.

Kaden wanted to argue with her. It took her years to get to that point. And he got the impression that she didn’t fall into Morgan’s arms overnight. He took the stupid stick and whipped it away, watched it bounce off the far end of the barrier. “You know, for someone just as new to this love shit as me, you sure do know a lot.” He didn't have to look to know a bit of the green receded. Fuck it, he needd to get one shot in. Just one. “You might have a point. I really figured you were the one of the two of us saving her, to be honest.” He shrugged. Sure it was destroying her in a way and-- fuck, that hurt to think about, but she couldn’t live her life in fear of what she was or what she could do. “I still don’t know the details, you know. Too much of a coward to ask. Considered getting you to bind me from fucking it up but here the fuck we are. I can’t figure you out, you know. Sometimes I think I get it and then you fucking throw me.” The laughter bubbled up inside him. “Sometimes literally down the goddamn stairs.” This whole thing was absurd. Mad to think that he was listening to Deirdre and that the things she said were something close to nice and maybe even encouraging. Then Kaden rolled his eyes at her suggestion of brooding in Regan’s arms and never felt more relief to do so. This, this was right. This was how he remembered Deirdre. Overbearing and frustrating. It truly warmed his heart to remember it. “Anyway, I’ll keep that in mind.”

It took everything in Kaden not to roll his eyes again. “I appreciate you, too. I gu--” The words turned into a shocked shout as he tumbled backwards, thwacking hard on the forest floor. “Putain de merde!” Stupid fucking witch circle had to screw him over one more time. He should have been watching the green but he had to admit, he didn’t like having visible evidence that he understood Deirdre. Or vice versa. It was awful. “Let’s never talk about this again,” he mumbled as he stood up and brushed himself off.

Deirdre wasn’t sure what Kaden thought would happen when the circle fell away and he was still leaning against it, but for everything that had happened, she watched him tumble backwards with unhinged delight. She scurried quickly out of the old circle, wanting to be completely sure she couldn’t be caught back inside before she opened her mouth. Laughter came first, sharp and bubbling, then it was the jeering. “Fates, I love watching you fall down.” And then, finally, the desire to undo all the work they had done and the resounding truth in her head that no, wait, she did actually hate Kaden. “Oh! And you stink! And your hair is stupid! And I hope you trip into a pile of shit!” Even to herself, her words and voice sounded childish, but she didn’t care. The delight from being freed, watching Kaden tumble down as she thought he would, and the ability to cover up her past kindness with petty insults was too great. She wasn’t his friend. She hadn’t just gained an ‘understanding’ of him. He sucked. And he was stinky. And he was human and she hated him and his dumb leather jackets. “Regan should find someone better.” She laughed, “maybe someone with more of a sense of balance, hm?” She pointed at him, “and I’m not saving Regan, I’m ruining her life!” That one wasn’t an insult but she felt like correcting Kaden on his point anyway. “Well, I’m going to leave now, Kady. I’ll hold the memory of you falling over fondly, human.” And though she felt far more like a pixie fluttering away after tying a human’s shoe laces together, she would have rather felt gleefully unlike herself than accept that some stupid witch’s stupid therapy circle of stupidness, had worked. It hadn’t. Kaden still sucked. She still wanted to stab him. And he was stinky.

“Fuck off!” Kaden shouted back at her as he pulled himself out of the circle. Why he ever thought for any span of time that she had anything at all in common with him, he didn’t know. The only thing they would ever share was how much they loathed each other and their unfortunate overlap in people they cared for. “Yeah, well Morgan deserves much better than you!” he shot back, straightening his jacket and dusting off the last of the leaves. If only he carried iron on him, he’d love to get a shot in, maybe remind her what he was capable of. The thought didn’t sit great for a moment, but fuck it, it wasn’t him that was fucked up. It was her. Clearly. He stormed off, not even sure why he was out there anymore. It didn’t matter. So long as he was far away from her.

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #what is this feeling #deathduty #deirdre #UNADOLTERATED LOATHING

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Mimes Mimes Mimes || Group Chatzy

Kaden really didn't want to be here right now. Birthdays had never been a big celebration for him and he was honestly fine with it. A beer on the house, maybe a free coffee, that's all he wanted. This year was so strange, he had people. Who cared. Still not sure why. Of course, one of them wasn't going to be there but he tried to push that aside. When he showed up to the Strip(e) club, he wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away, go home. Instead, he felt a pull, a strange need to stay and have fun. Well, try to at least. He didn't know why, maybe it was just that whole conscience thing or something from telling Regan he'd still go. Either way, he was not prepared for anything he saw inside. He stood still in abject horror at the... everything happening. There was only one solution to his. He b-lined it to the alcohol. "Bourbon on the rocks," he looked around briefly at the glitter and the mimes and the fucking werewolves. "Make it double."

Nora Pine, a fan of the Mime, had no clue that she'd stumbled into someone's birthday party. Today she was here for her own personal mission. To see a Mime strip. Why did she want to see a mime strip? Why not! People needed life goals and Nora thought this one was admirable to say the least. Plus she'd recently become very passionate about defending them as lovers on the internet. She figured it was time she actually saw what action they could bring to the table. When Kaden entered the club, Nora saw him instantly. Standing in a dark corner, she raised her glass of whiskey in a silent greeting to him.

Honestly, Winston was so far from sure why they had bothered to come. They didn't like mimes. The idea of strip clubs made them come out in hives because they were that uncomfortable and they already needed a drink. Heading past 'Tyler' they headed straight for the bar and smiled at the bar tender. "That sounds like a really good idea," Winston said even though they hated bourbon, "please can I have like the exact same." They weren't drinking this for the taste of it. "Happy birthday by the way," they said to Kaden as they stood next to them at the bar, "hope it's a ... good one." If Kaden had wanted a good birthday why would they have chosen to host it here?

What do you wear to a mime strip club? That certainly wasn't something Artie thought she'd be asking herself. Ever. In her whole life. But here she was. Dressed to impress Red's work colleague at a mime strip club. Grabbing the bag wrapped bottle of booze in one hand, and Red's arm in the other Artie wandered into the club. "Maybe there is something in the air here." Artie had been going on about this town's obsession with mimes their whole trip, "like in the pollen. Supernatural pollen that makes people obsessed with mimes... And mooses."

Luce had wandered into the Stripe Club, more out of boredom than anything and her expression of confusion morphed into one of horror. Not only was it a mime-filled horrorscape, there was the making of what looked like a cross between a five year old and a cheese loving furry's birthday party. Grimacing, she turned to leave, but found her way blocked by a burly looking mime who looked weirdly familiar. What the fuck? Grimacing, she walked over the the bar, sliding next to Winston and the other man. Catching the tail end of the conversation, she raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're the Birthday Boy?" Pausing, she looked him over. He didn't look like a furry. Hm. Weird. "Neat." She said before gesturing to the bartender. "That's also how I'd like my whiskey, please."

Joanne wouldn't miss her Rat King's birthday for anything. Everyone at the station knew Kaden was into mimes, so she slid into a striped mime shirt, donned a beret, and stuck Kady and Cadin in her pockets, despite their chittering protests and adorable twitchy rat tails. What a party! This was perfect for her sewer lord. Not wanting to disrupt the quiet atmosphere, she silently prowled around, looking for Kaden.

Bea had been rather excited for Kaden's party until she saw where it was being held. She tried to give it the benefit of the doubt but having a party at a mime strip club for a guy who was just stabbed by a mime seemed a bit insensitive. She had walked in with Kaden, though she had lost him when he had basically run to the bar, she had been distracted by the mime strippers. Refinding him wasn't hard he had already had a few drinks with her earlier and the bar seemed like the obvious place to be in this situation. She came to stand next to Kaden again,"Are you okay being here after everything?" She asked quietly before turning to grin at Winston and Luce. "Winston and Luce, hi! I didn't know you knew Kaden, Luce?"

Ohhh boy, Simon probably made a mistake as he slid in through the door as inconspicuously as he could. He could add "mime strip club" to his list of things he wasn't expecting - he couldn't remember the last time he was in a bar in general and the mixture of different scents made him bring a hand to his nose. Okay, he was here to mingle, observe and maybe meet some townsfolk (he wasn't sure how popular Kaden was but he was willing to guess "pretty"), then jet. No booze, no... wolf-shaped cheese snacks? Well, those were pretty cute. Still though, he kept close to the outer perimeter, noticing only one person he had met before. He assumed Kaden was the one at the bar but... everyone else was a tossup.

Kaden gave a nod to his past hunting partner at the bar. A little worried that she seemed more interested in the mimes than anything else. Ew. "Thanks," Kaden told the guy next to him. Had he seen them at the station before? Maybe, who knew. That would require spending time there. And someone who looked pretty similar to Bea. Third sister maybe? "Yeah, that's me. This, uh, this wasn't my idea. By the way." He smiled at Bea when she came over and confirmed his theory. "Uh, I'm alright. Just going to need a lot of this," he said gesturing to the glass in hand.

Alain gave Evelyn a glance of concern mixed with panic. The last thing he expected for Kaden's birthday, was to end up in a place swarming with the most vile species that had ever existed in this town : mimes. Figuring that gifting the man a Breton shirt was bad enough, Alain had decided to wear one himself, but now knowing that they would be surrounded by striped demonic fuckers, he felt a urge to turn around and leave the place. He doubted that Evelyn would agree to that, since he had offered to pick her up and drive her there. "We can still turn around," he offered. Maybe she would not want to be there either, considering what had just happened at her bar...

Since coming to White Crest, Red's life had become even stranger. Which was saying something, considering they were married to a weremoose and hunted fairies for a living. "Whatever it is that makes people obsessed with mimes, I want it to stay far away from me," Red grumbled to their wife. "And away from Violet, I heard people saying they think they like them because the grew up with them." They scanned the room with a grimace on their face. "Why did I agree to come to this again?" They knew that it was a fellow hunter's birthday, but they didn't think whatever this was was worth being a good coworker. "We only have to stay for a little right?"

Luce's expression of mild amusement soured as she saw her sister walk up to the bar. Taking the drink that was slid her direction from the bartender, she tilted it in cheers towards the man next to Winston. "Happy birthday. Someone must either really love you or hate you to throw this kinda party." She said conversationally before staring at her sister. Her arms were still covered in small cactus spine-shaped pin pricks and her ego still slightly bruised. But... She was going to be calm. And chill. "And no, I don't. Just... right place, right time."

Felix was overjoyed. The place looked like a living nightmare. All glitter and stripes, plus glittered and striped strippers. He hated the mimes but it was worth it just to see the chaos in black and white. The fae wore his finest crimson suit, a cut of red in all the black and white, and watched as people started to file in. Thoroughly confused people at that. Perfect. After a small misunderstanding with the bartender, Felix took his martini glass in hand, found himself a dark corner, and waited for the man of the hour to show. When he did, the fae beamed and headed straight towards him. Raised his glass in a mild cheers. Disgruntled, disgusted, looked like he wanted to leave but couldn’t. Must be a Frenchman. “And a very happy birthday to you, sir! Enjoy your stay, huh?” More people came and they all seemed to coalesce around the bar. “If anyone needs anything, let me know, huh? Anything at all!” Louder than anything else in the relatively silent place, he turned and readied himself to mingle.

Evelyn made a face when she and Alain arrived at the - Stripe Club? No, no, absolutely not. Who had thought that this would be a good idea at all in the first place, and especially after everything that had just happened to him. Besides, her dress and heels did not suit this place. She rolled her eyes. "We can, but I think we should go and check in on Kaden, give him presents at least." This had to be one of the tackiest places in town - strip clubs were tacky enough by themselves, and with the addition of mimes? Absolutely awful. But this was for Kaden and so she'd suck it up and deal with it. "Let us go?"

Arthur really wasn't sure why he'd even been invited to a stranger's birthday party but Regan had sent him the invite and... well, he felt rude to decline even if the idea of spending a single second in mime hell sent a batch of heebie jeebies down his spine. But stepping in, he seriously began to reconsider every single decision leading up to this point. He'd seen a lot in his lifetimes and this was... probably the single most traumatising place he'd ever stepped foot in. He'd need a lot of help to handle this particular experience and sought out the nearest drink he could find scanning the crowd for any kind of familiar face. He didn't even know who Kaden was...

Artie nodded adamantly. "Right. In and out. We wait for a lul in his conversations, go in wish him a happy birthday. Get one photo of us doing something interesting and leave. Then when people say "Oh I don't remember seeing you there." We have photo proof, and we gave a gift. Birthday boy remembers and we're free of these..." Artie lowered her voice to hiss out the words, sure that the silent monstrosities were staring at her and Red, absorbing every word heard around them to offer to whatever demonic creature mimes worshiped. "Vile zebra wanna-bes." She let out a sigh, allowing her voice to raise to a normal volume. "Why, in the name of all things green and full of chlorophyll, did you think we should come when you found out it was here? We could have said Vi was sick..."

It wasn't hard to notice her sister's expression when Bea joined them at the bar. She wasn't even sure what she had done now to piss off the middle sister, but she tried to ignore it. She had bigger issues to deal with and one of those was making sure the birthday boy himself didn't lose it at the chaos of this party. "Well, let me know if you need anything," She reminded Kaden, trying not to sound too much like a worrywart. (She was sure she failed). Then she heard a familiar voice and turned with a bright grin,"Felix! You're here! You set this party up?" She asked with an amused eyebrow raise

Simon had managed to find a table that wasn't completely decorated in... er, decorations and he sat down tentatively, pausing for a second before leaning back and pulling out a notebook. He noted the three empty chairs also around the table and decided to try to appear friendly so if people wanted to take them, they could... after all, they weren't HIS chairs. Time to take some notes on some of the individuals, and the room was filling up fast.

Marie-Jeanne tilted her head at the crowd. Fresh blood. She tapped the corner of her lips until they spread into a wide smile, and slowly shimmied her way through the crowd. Her clothing was minimal, made mainly of taped on black stripes, evenly spaced from neck to ankle. They smelled good, these newcomers, she thought as she wound her way through them, moving to a beat only she could hear. She tapped the occasional shoulder, giving them a wink and blowing a silent kiss before moving onto the next one. The winks were the only time she closed her eyes at all. Her make-up indistinguishable from her skin, as if it had always been there. Perhaps this was a celebration?

This was... absolute chaos. Glitter and stripes and music... GLORIOUS. Mercy could already feel the discord. She hadn't been invited exactly, but word traveled. And she couldn't pass this up. It had entirely too much potential. So she made her way through the crowd, trying to find someone she knew. Or someone she didn't. New friends were always a good time.

"You're a genius, that's a genius plan and that's exactly what we're going to do. Photo, conversation, and then we're out," Red went over enthusiastically. There was a lot going on here and it was pretty overwhelming to be in the middle of. Red didn't want to think about how Kaden felt about the whole thing. "Vi could get sick while we're here..." They said, before they tensed. Leaning to whisper in Artie's ear,"There's fae here." This wasn't a location to go hunting which made it an even more frustrating situation to be involved in. "Let's get your plan done quick."

Nora, who had been here since opening, was silently enamored with one particular mime. She'd first noticed this mime when she came up, tapped her shoulder and blew a kiss. Nora, literally just there to watch mimes, noticed that she did this thing where she didn't blink. Nora loved it. What a show. She wondered how she kept her eyes moist. Did she alternate the winks? Did she have fake make up eyes? Mimes were just the greatest. Nora leaned back in her corner, intent on enjoying the show despite the sudden uptick in people.

Alain grimaced. She was right. They could not leave Kaden alone in this place of terror, although his idea of getting the poor guy a breton shirt was starting to smell even more like a big turd than it already did. But, since he could not return the thing, it would have to do. "At least, you don't have to worry about being underdressed for the place..." He parked the car and raised his eyes up at the sky. "No amounts of drinking are going to make this acceptable." There was a pause. "Alright, let's go."

Blanche was certain that she had made something similar to a mistake. Whether it was joking with Felix about the Taylor (Tyler?) Lautner and the glitter thing or actually showing up to the birthday party at a mime-themed strip club, Blanche wasn't sure which. She was horribly amused and mortified all at once, as she went to grab a drink. She saw Felix floating around here somewhere, maybe she could beg him for something the to make her forget that she was here - and then she saw Alain and.... "Evelyn?" Blanche said, her voice too loud in the club. She scurried over. "Alain! Hey - uh, hi!"

Kaden wasn't sure which it was, love or hate that led to this monstrosity. He glanced at his phone a moment to send Regan an update and, uh, question how much of this was left up to her. Maybe see if she'd change her mind about showing up. He doubted it but he had to try. He could guilt her, right? One photo of this mess should send anyone into a guilt spiral for causing this nightmare, right? Shit, maybe that was too mean to do to her right now. His brow raised at Bea's reaction to the smarmy smooth talking guy in a suit. "Felix, huh? You two know each other? I guess I have you to thank for this.... Whatever this is. How'd you come up with this exactly?"

Luce raised an eyebrow at the man who'd just made a big showy gesture of "anything at all" and caught her sister say his name. Felix. Interesting. Red suit like that, he stood out well enough. As Bea turned to speak to him, Luce slipped away from the bar. There were other people here to mingle with and she didn't really feel much like trailing after her sister like some kind of puppy. "Happy Birthday. Enjoy unwrapping your gifts," She said with a glance over at one of the more attractive mimes-- if such a thing could be said. Patting the man, Kaden, on the shoulder, she walked away from the bar. As she made her way through the crowd, she spotted a person with a very intricate hand tattoo, standing next to a woman. "Nice tattoo. Where'd you get that done?" She asked the person, intrigued.

Cece was going to need a lot of drinks to get through this party. Who would have thought that there would actually be a bar that Cece couldn’t have fun in? Turns out, there really was a first time for everything. Regardless, if she was going to make it through this party, she was going to need some booze. “Please give me two of whatever your strongest shots are.” she sighed from a barstool. The bartender didn’t say anything. Oh fuck, of course he didn’t say anything. Because it was a fucking mime bar. Cece immediately downed both drinks and requested another one. She could totally have a fun time at this party. She just wasn’t sure how much booze it would take for that to happen. But here’s to starting off strong.

Winston was not sure what Bea and Luce were doing here, but at least there was someone to talk to that they didn’t work with. Maybe they could actually have a good time. Swallowing as much Bourbon as they could to try and get them sociable enough to not trip over their own proverbial feet, they spotted Blanche and grabbing one more drink they made their way over to her. “You here for Kaden too?” They asked curiously, spotting Alain. Was there anyone in this town that didn’t know Kaden? 

Evelyn gave Alain a quick shrug. "This is true, and I agree, I do not think much of any amount of drinking can make this worth it." As they entered in, someone came running over to them - "Blanche?" She asked, her lips curving up into a small smile. "Well, though I would have preferred we meet under just about any other circumstance, I am pleased to finally meet you in person." She pressed her hands against her dress, letting out a small sigh. "This is certainly one of the more eclectic parties I have been too, and let me tell you, some Dukes back home have some bizarre hobbies and habits.

Mercy had just ordered a large drink when someone grabbed her wrist. She spun around to see that it was Arthur, who she couldn't believe was actually here. In a bar. In a strip club. She coughed on her whiskey. "I was about to say... why wouldn't I enjoy this?? It's amazing." She took another drink. "I take it you're not having fun?"

Red glanced at the woman who just came up to them, surprised that anyone would want to actually have a conversation with a stranger at a party like this. They glanced at their hand before nodding at the woman with a little smirk. "Got this one done in Oregon. Haven't gotten any since I moved here though, you look like you'd have suggestions on where to go to get some quality work."

Artie tensed as soon as Red said the magic word. 'Fae.' "Babe, do you think... Do you think the fae are making the town be in love with mimes?" She was whispering into Red's ear, her eyes darting back in forth. Artie had gone through life with the intense pleasure of never having met a fae, and she wanted to keep it that way. "Classic life ruining shenanigans." Artie smiled widely and with the sincerity of a teenager agreeing to do the dishes as a mime walked past them. Artie gripped Red's arm even tighter. It was nice knowing they were there. They were a pillar of security in this unknown world. looking at the woman who joined them, Artie attempted another smile.

Miles had almost spat his coffee all over his desk when he'd received an email inviting him and the rest of the department to the party of one Kaden Langley. This guy worked in law enforcement? Figures. The field did tend to attract a lot of people who liked to throw their weight around. He walked in, cautiously looking around for anyone he might recognize.

Arthur blinked, mildly bewildered as he accidentally caught the eye of a blond mime tantalisingly?? lifting their striped shirts, he blinked again swallowing thickly and reaching for another drink. "What gave that away? Who in their right mind thought a... Actually no, don't answer that. Do you know Kaden?" he asked instead, taking a healthy swallow of his drink.

Felix smiled at Bea over the rim of his martini glass. “Bea! Oh, you better believe I did. I had some help. A certain Harlow character let me know about all the very interesting things the birthday fella likes, so...” He trailed to gesture at the everything around them. Tyler, the Taylor Lautner impersonator, seemed very popular with the mime strippers. When Kaden spoke, Felix turned his attention to him and nodded. “Yeah, we know each other! Bea’s a real good friend of mine,” he said with a comfortable smile. “I had plenty of creative suggestions, so I can’t take all the credit on this particular striped jigsaw puzzle! Sure is something, huh?” When a familiar blonde made her way to the bar, he called out. It was nice to see her not at a crime scene. “Hiya again, Cece! It’s an open bar so do with that what you will, huh?”

"I think all of us would have preferred to be literally anywhere else," Blanche said, honestly, glancing over at Winston as they showed up. "I .... think some of this might be my fault. Namely the glitter. And the... uh... That." Blanche pointed vaguely at Tyler Lautner, who was enjoying some cheese. She glanced at Winston as they came over, feeling better to see a friend. "Sure am. You, uh, work with him, right?"

"Gods, can't you feel it, 'Ren?" Mercy whispered aside as she watched the mime move by. "And we've chatted online... and I know what he does.... otherwise not much, no," Mercy said of knowing Kaden.

Luce nodded approvingly at the art. It took skill to do something like that. "Nice. Whoever did it had a good hand." Raising an eyebrow at the comment, Luce held out a tattooed hand of her own for the person to shake. "You're in luck. I'm Luce. I work at Ink Inc. Best tattoo place in Maine. I'd say White Crest, but we're the only one in town and that doesn't count." She said, extending the same hand to the woman at their side. "Luce. You guys know Kaden?"

Alain heard a familiar voice calling him and turned to look at her. "Blanche ! Well I'd hug you but your shoulder must still hurt," he patted her on the arm and smiled warmly. Winston making their way toward the little group, he smiled politely at them. "I am certainly not here for the mimes," he looked down at his striped shirt and shook his head. "This has to be the most awful place I ever had the misfortune of finding myself in. Whoever planned this will have to pay."

"Yeah, I came here because of the bar," Winston glanced at one of the mime strippers and immediately looked away. This was the worst. But at least they weren't on their own here. Either way. They needed more booze to get through this. Swallowing a mouthful of whiskey they almost spat it out at Alain's words. "You know, I think that you're right. This is the most detestable place that I've ever had the misfortune of finding myself in and now I have to agree that whoever planned this will pay," turning to Blanche they smirked slightly, "so you're saying you had a hand in this catastrophe?

Marie-Jeanne felt someone watching her. She glanced over her shoulder to the person with pale skin and black hair, smiled, and shook her derrière in her direction, and planned to return to her later. Her eyes were searching for the center of all this. The one who'd brought them all together. Picking up an invisible tray from the bar, she walked over to the one known as Kaden, running her striped fingers down his arm to catch his attention before carefully picking up an invisible glass of bourbon and holding it out to him, her hips swaying enticingly as she looked him over.

Miles barely had time to speak to anyone before he was flabbergasted by the sight of Mime strippers. "Oh... Oh no." Was this why he'd been stabbed? Mime fetishizing?

Simon wasn't actually feeling too bad about this, all the weird stripper-mimes notwithstanding though his gaze kept wandering over to Nora occasionally, finding himself curious on whether or not she was actually there for Kaden's party. He jotted something to himself in his book when a new yet very familiar scent drifted over to him. Without even really thinking about it, he stood up and starting looking around, wandering through the people and gently moving past bodies. Table? No. Cheese dogs? No. Mime stripper #4? Definitely not, deeefinitely not. He kept following the smell though - it was weird, it was... bad yet good. He didn't realise that he had circled around the bar before standing a little close to ???(Miles), furrowing his brow. Yep, it was this kid.

Mercy watched the mime with narrowed eyes, but found them more amusing than anything. This was... she couldn't but grin and wonder if her own brand of chaos was even needed.

"I wouldn't put it past them, they really are awful enough to come up with a plan like that," Red replied with a look of distaste plain on their face. Only fae would come up with something as terrible as this. No one else would make everyone suffer by falling in love with mimes. Red took Luce's hand, looking over the tattoo she had there as they did. "Hm, I'll keep that in mind. What's your usual style?" Maybe Luce would be able to give Red the Violet tattoo they wanted. "Yeah. Kaden's a coworker. Though, right now I wished I hadn't known animal control was part of the police department."

Nell remembered hearing Bea talking about Kaden's birthday today, and hadn't really been planning on attending. After all, she didn't think an attempted stabbing and some words exchanged online exactly warranted showing up to his birthday party. Though...she did loved birthday parties. Still, she'd been planning to sit it out until she looked up the address. Mimes. Who in their right mind would have their birthday at a mime strip club, of all the cursed places? Especially after being stabbed by one. There was, quite literally, no place she'd hate to be more, but she was also curious. Maybe she could scope out if any other mimes were 'cursed' here like Kaden had seemed to think his was. So here she was, feeling as if she's stepped into an actual, living nightmare. Glancing towards Blanche and Winston, she naturally gravitated towards the pair of them, joking in with Winston and his words. "Blanche, you helped? I can't believe you'd betray us like this? Of all the things. Mimes."

Making a small face as Blanche described what part she had played in this, Evelyn replied with, "well, is it a bit of a joke?" before she turned to the newcomer to their group. Someone she recognized, vaguely. "Winston?" Well, apparently everyone really did know everyone else in this town. "Well, it is a pleasure to see you again although most would have thought it would be under different circumstances than these. At least the company is nice." She glanced over to Alain briefly before looking back at the other two, and at the new figure who had joined them.

So she'd dumped him, but maybe it was a little in haste. After all, Lydia wanted to know just how Jeremiah the mime had taunted Kaden as he'd promised. What she hadn't expected, of all things, was to find people she knew in the Strip(e) club. Perhaps... perhaps she would find this Jeremiah later.

Arthur side eyed her for a moment, "what? Sick? Yeah." He frowned a little bit as he somehow found his current glass empty, putting this down he reached for Mercy's to quell his racing mind but his hand was intercepted by a white glove. The blond mime having very silently made their way over in an attempt to drag Arthur onto one of the stages and apparently join in their act. Oh no. Oh nope. Nope. No way. Mildly panicked he tried to pull back, but the mime was surprisingly strong and managed to tug him a step away. "Oh fuck, help, Mercy help."

Go to the co-workers birthday party, her brother had said. It'll be fun and you'll make new friends, he said. Jane was horrified. Wasn't this the guy that got stabbed by a mime? Wasn't she working that case with Stryder? Did she imagine that? Had Felix slipped her something? Jane stood in horror by the enterance, shaking a bit og glitter off her boot before hightailing it to the bar. She saw Cece doing shots. Perfect. Tunnel visioned to the alcohol, Jane said, "Give me two of those shots too - Oh. Felix." Jane stared at him a moment. She turned back to the bartender. "Four. Make that four shots."

"Felix is a great friend. We've been hanging around each other for the past three years?" Bea told Kaden warmly. Though she doubted he was going to take to Felix as warmly, since he was involved in whatever this was. "Harlow?" She asked before realizing that meant Blanche had been involved with this. That checked out she supposed. "I see Blanche continued her reign of terror on you, Kaden." She said with a little laugh.

"Artie." Artie said as introductions went around. Artie vaguly paid attention as they talked about tattoos. Artie loved Red's tattoos and thought they were beautiful, but tattoos had never been her thing. "Never met the man. Just here for support and to be the bearer of gifts." She laughed, holding up the present she still needed to give. She didn't see a present table set up, so she'd just have to hand it to him when they got their moment to talk to him. Right now a mime seemed very interested in talking to the man she could now identify as Kaden.

Miles couldn't help but wonder if he was supposed to bring a gift. He was morally opposed to bringing gifts to potential murderers, but figured a good middle ground was to bring him a bottle of whiskey or something. Something to endear Kaden to him and perhaps loosen his tongue a little. There were a few familiar faces in the room, so Miles slowly approached the bar area, ordering a beer.

Mercy saw a few other people she recognized. Felix - gods, what a suit... but it suited... hah - and Blanche. There was Evelyn too. She was about to say something when Arthur spoke instead. "Huh? Oh... woah there. Not. Yours." Mercy reached for the white-gloved hand (it had a helluva grip on Arthur) and removed it from his person. The mime merely looked at Mercy for a long moment, but she stared back, crossing her arms and making a pointed shooing motion with her fingers.

"The shoulder is still a little sore," Blanche admitted, grinning back at Alain, before scowling at Winston and then Nell. "Hey, don't look at me, I didn't say to set it up at a mime place! He just got, ya know, stabbed by one. I just suggested glitter and the Taylor - I mean Tyler - er, Taylor Lautner impersonator. Though I didn't know that was even a thing." Blanche looked around, grimacing. "I think this place is cursed."

Oh, he was moving. And so Simon did too. He did realise then how close he was standing and he took a couple steps back but he was still following. Hey, people followed people all the time, right? He pulled out his notebook with a sniff, writing down details about the boy with the familiar scent-- oh wait, they were at the bar. Might as well pencil in some gossip while he was at it.

Kaden nodded, thin smile pulled tight across his face as Felix yammered. "Harlow. Helped? Of course she did." He downed his drink and motioned for another. The one thing he had to say about the mimes was they caught on to the gesture no problem. "I'm going to get some of that cheese. Have fun. I'm sure I won't." He was about to leave when a fucking mime came over with, uh, nothing in her hands at all and stared... no. No. There was no way this was happening. "Uh, I don't-- Please don't." And yet he was frozen still in shock, unsure of what the fuck to even do about this. Other than down that second drink.

"Nice to meet you both." Luce said with a nod. As the the person asked about her style, she pushed up the sleeve of her jacket, showing them the geometric design that wrapped around her wrist and went up her arm. "My personal style is geometric, black work. But, I'm flexible. I'm pretty good with traditional and neo-traditional." She said with a shrug. When they mentioned that they were coworkers, Luce grinned. "White Crest does things different. And, good on you both for even coming by. I'm here because." Luce grimaced. "Bad luck, I guess."

Cece was what, five? Six drinks in by now? All while making pointless conversation with a speechless bartender. She spotted Miles coming up to the bar and flashed a friendly, if not way too drunken smile. “Oh hey, you showed up too? Sorry for your loss, dude.”

Winston nodded. "This place is definitely cursed, I can't believe that we actually came to a mime themed strip club." They weren't sure why Nell was here, but they didn't really care. It was nice that there were this many people that they knew. Otherwise it might've been weird or something. "How long do we reasonably have to stay here before we get another drink?" they were itching to head for the bar, hoping that if they drank enough then maybe this place would be palatable. "I wonder how much it cost to hire this place for an afternoon?"

Simon peeked out from behind Miles. "D-Dr. Bishop?" He asked, only just now recognising her face for some reason, and certainly never having seen her outside the morgue.

Wow, Kaden had a lot of friends... Joanne scoured around, pouting, as she realized it was going to be harder to pick out her Regal Rat from the crowd than she thought. She mimed a tear falling down her cheek, and practically walked into a woman who also seemed to be looking for someone. Kady chattered from inside her pocket, she calmed him with a hand. He'd be back in the sewers soon enough. "Have you seen Kaden?" she asked quietly, not wanting to completely break character. "I have something for him."

Arthur staggered as he almost lost his balance when the tight grip around his wrist suddenly released bumping into someone near the bar who a moment later he recognised as Miles "oh shit I'm sorry." The mime stared at Mercy, unblinking in its intensity before black-painted lips suddenly cracked into a toothy grin and the mime... mimed laughing. Silent as its body shook while it stood there a few feet away making no move to leave. Arthur could only stare in mild horror at the scene leaning in to whisper "what the actual fuck??"

Nell wasn't sure about being in such close proximity with Alain, but she figured she didn't have to talk to the man, right? Instead, she focused on Blanche and Winston, or rather- on anything but the mimes. "Is the Taylor Lautner impersonator because of why...I think he's here?" Nell asked with the beginnings of a grin, uncertain of how to phrase the question with present company. "Wait- do you know Kaden, Winston?" But at Winston's prompting she was ordering quite the strong drink from the bar before saying. "I'm already thinking of getting a second. But any amount to pay for this place is too much." 

Cece burst into laughter, “You’re sweet, but I’m no doctor dude. Just a toxicologist. Four years strictly for me.” She patted his shoulder, taking another long drink from her glass. “You started at the worst time, clearly. I have no idea how we ended up getting roped into coming to this place.”

Marie-Jeanne was used to the new ones being shy. They had no idea how easy it would be to lure them in over and over- oh. She turned her shoulder to press it coyly against her cheek, inviting him to play along. After a moment, she shrugged, returned the drink to her tray and set it aside. She stepped just a little closer, and took his hand in hers, nodding encouragingly. He'd enjoy this, she knew, as she lead his hand to her shoulder, and used it to began peeling away one of the black tapes that striped her body. As it peeled away tantalisingly, it revealed another black stripe on her skin underneath. She smiled down at him, unblinking.

Mercy didn't laugh... she merely mimed reaching into her pocket, being surprised, and then pulling her hand out with the middle finger raised.

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston shrugged in Nell's direction. "Kaden is animal control, they work at the station, so I got an invite through that and it seemed like it was the place to be..." they trailed off and slugged back more of their drink, praying that if they drank more this place would be slightly less terrible, "How do you know Kaden? I know he and Blanche are friends, even though she's referred to him as a dick multiple times, did you just feel afraid of being left out?" If you couldn't tease your best friend then what could you do.

Red's hand moved now to cover the hand Artie had on their arm, their thumb brushing back and forth on her hand. "Looks like in a place like this, Kaden is gonna need as much support as he can get," They said looking around once again. They nodded again at Luce's tattoos, she did good work, but they were, personally, more interested in neo-traditional. "Well, maybe I'll come by the shop to see you there. I need a tattoo for my daughter anyway." Red had one for Artie already and had been waiting to get one for Violet. "You come to mime strip clubs often?

Wait a second, you are behind this?" Alain's eyes went from Blanche to Evelyn. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he then looked around him, searching for Kaden. Maybe it would be nice to start looking for him. They could leave once he had his present, right? "How about we find the birthday boy, mmh ?"

"Jane! Always a pleasure. Have another one on me," Felix laughed. In most cases, people were getting some level of inebriated. This party wouldn't be any different. Looking at Kaden's clear discomfort at the mime brought a bright smile to his face and he slipped his glasses down long enough to wink. "I'll leave you two alone. Enjoy yourself, huh? Regan wants you to have a great time and you did promise to stay, after all!" A promise was a promise, after all. He grabbed another martini and stepped off to the side, immensely pleased.

Lydia turned as a mime approached her, her voice dropping low. Lydia's eyes widened. "Sorry, Kaden's here?" She repeated, before shaking her head in disbelief and looking around. This was beyond belief. "You have something for him? No, I haven't seen him, but I believe I could help you look, if you like?"

Miles was usually just fine with parties, but this entire situation was unsettling and uncomfortable. Mime themed strippers. Mime themed lapdances. Miles was all set to down his beer and bounce. "Hey, Winston..." He managed to find someone he actually knew. It was lucky nobody could see a guy blush in this kinda lighting. "You know this Kaden dude?"

"I agree." Evelyn replied, running a hand through her hair. "This is the only reason to bother staying, so we should at least attempt to find him." She spotted Arthur and Mercy as well - perhaps they would be nice to talk to, even if they appeared to currently be near a mime. "After this, I am truly and utterly done with mimes forever."

The longer Bea looked around to see what was happening the more confused she got. What the heck is that mime doing? Why does she have more black tape underneath the black tape? Who came up with a mime strip club? Why was the party here? She expected this from Felix, but not Blanche. Maybe she'd have to talk to Blanche about therapy. Waving down the bartender, she asked with a sigh,"Can I have a martini?"

Glancing up, Winston spotted Miles, who was a werewolf. That was something that they weren't sure that they had really processed yet, but you couldn't judge people you didn't know. Besides, most werewolves were cool right? They tried not to think about their big black wolf form. "Hey Miles, these are some of my friends by the way, I work with Miles too..." they shrugged gently and swallowed more whiskey, "Not very well, I got the invite because we work together I guess, we've talked a few times online but not really y'know."

"When in Rome..." Mercy said to Arthur as she and the mime proceeded to stare at one another.

Miles nodded, giving introductions to Winston's friends. "Hey, nice to meet y'all."

Simon noted Miles' departure - he must not've been comfortable in crowds-- or maybe just mime gang-hangouts. Gangouts. He winced ever-so-slightly at Cece when he turned back to regard her though... she already carried the sharpness of alcohol. "I just... came because I thought it'd be a good opportunity to watch," He replied, giving her a small smile. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, at any rate."

Marie-Jeanne briefly turned her head towards Felix and winked, miming a promise to see him later, before turning her attention back to Kaden, slowly sliding their hands to the next stripe.

Joanne's eyes widened. This woman didn't know about the grand event happening? "Don't you see?" She waved her gloved hands in an arc. "It's his birthday! He's really into mimes, you know." Joanne giggled, and Cadin started climbing up her sweater. The rat perched on her shoulder and starting biting her earlobe, but that was fine. "Please help me look, won't you? All of the right planets and stars are aligned tonight, the sacrifice has been made... it's important he receives his Sewer Crown."

"No!" Blanche said, quickly. "That would be Felix - I may just, uh, given him the glitter idea." Blanche rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Her bad, really. Though this was a shit show and it was really sort of hilarious. "And yes, it is because of that." Blanche told Nell, snickering slightly, before glancing at Miles. Oh. Miles. She remembered Miles. From the Remmy situation. Aw hell. "Hey, man. Nice to, uh, see ... you."

Oh, right. Nell should have probably pieced that together, but honestly she'd forgotten that animal control would be roaming around the same station as Winston. "Tell me truthfully, now," she said to Winston. "How quickly did you run over here when you heard it'd be at a mime strip club? I didn't know you were into this. I guess old friends really can learn new things. And I...will tell you how I know Kaden...later." No doubt Winston would pick up on her telling tone that the meeting might have been supernaturally charged. "You know me, though. I'm like a little leech. Latching onto whatever I can get." Then she was leaning over to the newcomer to give him a small wave. "Hi, there."

Miles gave a small smile to Blanche. Maybe Kaden was the Hunter she'd had the problem with too. But then why would she be at his party? "I don't really know him either, just figured it's rude not to show up."

Late, as per usual, Marley dropped off her "gift" at the "gift" table and headed straight for the bar. If she was going to be here, she was going to be tipsy. Not only was this a mime bar, it was Langley's birthday. Just her luck, the newbie was there. "Hey Newbie," she said, ordering a drink, "same idea, I see."

The blond mime flicked his floppy hair out of the way, its cracked lips thinning into a pressed line as his head cocked to an exceptionally odd angle a white gloved hand raising to its chin as it mimed thinking before suddenly raising its index finger. It moved eerily gracefully, towards a nearby wilting flower pot and mimed picking a flower, smelling it and swooning. It returned dropping to one knee, hands clasped and proffered forth as though offering this imaginary bouquet batting its eyes in its silent attempt at cuteness that made it all the more distressing to watch. Arthur could only stare, utterly horrified.

Alain took a deep breath. This place was too crowded for his liking, and the fact that it was crowded with striped fuckers certainly did not help. At least he had someone he was familiar with to accompany him across this hell, right? "Weren't you already done with those things?" His eyebrows shot up. "Learning new things everyday."

Kaden didn't know how it was happening but somehow there was a mime stripping in front of him with stripes that... revealed more stripes? Were there too many people there to try and fight her? He was pretty fucking sure this was a monster. It had to be. His eyes went wide as Felix and Bea left him there "Hey, wait, I did nor promise to--" The mime put a fucking finger to his lips to silence him. Nightmare. This was an absolute nightmare.

Laughing at Nell, Winston found themselves grinning despite themself. A mime strip club really wasn't their thing and Nell definitely knew that. "Well, I am glad that you were able to latch onto this so we could enjoy my obvious ..." they paused to highlight their obvious disgust at the idea they would flippantly admit to in moments, "kink for this sort of thing." They swallowed the last of their whiskey and ordered another one, they definitely needed this.

Felix felt the sudden and immediate need to be incredibly less sober than he was the very moment Marie-Jeanne looked at him. He waved over to Bea with his not martini occupied hand and reached into his suit pocket to pull out a slim joint just slightly. "Think the cops are too occupied with other stuff to give a damn? Because I sure as heck do."

Luce noticed the stance, the hand on the woman. Mm. A couple. She probably shouldn't have barged into their conversation, but still. She couldn't resist good art, or the opportunity to network. She needed to drum up business in a small town like this. "Sounds like a plan, I look forward to seeing you in the shop then." She said with a confident smile. Though when they mentioned the mime situation, she made a face of distaste. "Not at all. I hate mimes. But, the weird buff one wouldn't let me leave so... Guess I'm here for the mean time." She said, pointing to the one who looked like disturbingly similar to Taylor Lautner.

“Well you certainly chose one hell of a spectacle.” Cece laughed, looking back at the horrors of the party. Someone had chosen this place on purpose for Kaden’s birthday. Either it was a cruel joke and Kaden should seek an immediate lawsuit for defamation of character and emotional burden, or Kaden was into some really weird shit. Which, no judgement but also… okay a little judgement. “You need a drink? I was just about to order another one. Or two.” She tipped her glass back and downed the rest of it for sure. “What do you want? The bartender isn’t much for conversation, but luckily I make great convo.”

Bea stared at the joint and then glanced at Kaden, she had promised to save him from whatever horrors this party brought, even though she hadn't expected them to include a mime stripper. Nodding to Kaden, she smiled at Felix apologetically,"Can I bring him? I think he needs to be saved from whatever that is."

Lydia looked around, at the large banner. "Oh, how wonderful. Do you know who planned this?" She'd have to tell Deirdre about this. Someone wanted him dead as much as they did. Her eyes widened at what Joanne said next. "Really? Well, come along, we will find him soon enough." Lydia began to wander through the crowds, poking her head around. "Oh, there he is. But he's being entertained." This was the first time she'd seen him in person, and under that mime's hands, he looked like he might have preferred Miccy's knife. "Let's give him this moment first, shant we? I'm sure that mime is terribly enjoyable, and we can't deprive him, can we?"

Jane was in the process of downing shots. "You," she had pointed at Felix, "We're talking later!" Though if she arrested Felix at the party, maybe they would both get to leave. Jane shook her head, before glancing at Stryder. "You can call me Jane, you know," She said, knocking back another. She leaned over, "Uh, is Langley trying to get stabbed again? Or is he just into some weird shit?"

Nell watched in abject horror from across the way as the mime seemed to latch onto the birthday boy. Someone should save him. Not her. God no. She wouldn't go near the mimes with a ten foot pool unless it was to start another mime fight. But... someone. Hopefully this one wouldn't stab him, at least. He amusement only grew as Winston went along with her joke, wishing she had a recorder stashed to catch this moment of their apparent newfound kink. "Oh, Winnie. i'm really just so proud of you for embracing this. Unfortunately, I think this is the end of the road for our friendship, though." Then she was taking a hearty draw of the drink the bartender had delivered. "What about you, Blanche? Is this your newfound fetish, too?"

"Already more than done with them." Evelyn sighed. In a brief moment, she hooked her arm with Alain's. "Well, now I am only all the more certain that I am done with them." She pouted for a moment. "And to think, I got a nice new outfit for this. Well, let us go find Kaden, or at least someone else who we know."

Simon gave a rather noncommittal shrug - drinking wasn't a hobby he'd ever participated in, but... he gave another sniff and nodded faintly. "Sure," He took her offer though his eyebrows arched as she downed the rest of her current drink. "Yeah, it's... I wasn't expecting this sort of turnout," He admitted, straightening up and glancing around at the forming sea of people. "Where... IS Kaden, anyway?" He asked quietly. From their chat, it sounded like the guy didn't really like mime so the aspect of making a mime-themed birthday party seemed... either ironic or cruel.

"You're right," Marley said, "I could. I won't, but I could." She shrugged, ordered herself some shots, glancing at whoever it was that Jane had shouted at. He looked a little more out of place than most of these people, but it didn't matter. This was a party! And they were all off duty. She glanced through the crowd again and spotted Cece somewhere far off. Red and Artie were off somewhere, but no sign of Regan. This was going to be a shit show, if it wasn't already. A familiar blonde caught her eye as well. Evelyn. She was with an older looking man, and Marley's eyes narrowed a little before she turned back to Jane. "Here's to an open bar!" she said, clinking their glasses together. "Eh, just ignore it. Who cares what Langley's up to. I just came for the drinks."

Blanche was in desperate need to get a drink, especially as Nell and Winston started joking about mime kinks. She shook her head, before looking over and seeing the worst possible thing she could imagine. Kaden getting a lap dance from a stripped mime. She stared loudly. Before she turned to Nell and Winston and Miles, and announced, "I need to consume copious amounts of alcohol immediately to forget what I just saw. I found the birthday boy and I wish I didn't."

Marie-Jeanne pressed her finger to his lips to let him just be quiet, and enjoy the music of silence and the sound of against his seat. He seemed to be enjoying this, she thought, and so she leant even closer, gyrating the air just above his hips as she placed her hands on his shoulders, and slowly, slowly dragged them down his chest. Right to where his heart was. She waved to Guillaume, inviting the mime over to join them both, and he immediately mimed removing his shirt for Kaden. Her hands still rested firmly on his chest. Soon his heart would beat for her and her friend.

Mercy watched the mime as it moved off and came back with an offering of a 'flower.' She glanced at Arthur, raised an eyebrow. The glanced back at the mime... suspiciously. Eventually she rolled her eyes, but gave the mime a curtsy - yes, a proper one... - and took the 'flower.' She mimed tucking it in her hair before miming something that Arthur couldn't see. The mime tilted it's head again, pretending to cry, sighed wistfully, and then with a rather... odd.... look, it did a handstand and crept away. On it's hands.

Winston definitely did not to need to see the birthday boy getting grinded on by a mime in a thong, and immediately followed Blanche to the bar after starring as equally loudly. "Like as many doubles as I'm allowed please, i need to try and drown that memory."

Red watched in horror as the lapdance got worse. "Felix I'm going to be right back." She basically power walked over to Kaden and put her hand on his shoulder, grinning at the mime. "I need the birthday boy now please. Get off him. Thanks."

Miles followed Winston's lead. "That's him??" He turned his head, desperate to un-see whatever in the ungodly hell he'd just seen involving Kaden Langley and an almost nude mime. "Whose idea was this venue?"

Bea watched in horror as the lapdance got worse. "Felix I'm going to be right back." She basically power walked over to Kaden and put her hand on his shoulder, grinning at the mime. "I need the birthday boy now please. Get off him. Thanks."

Felix looked over at Kaden, who was thoroughly suffering, and thought it over. "Is that a man who looks like he needs saving?" If he did, the fae wasn't about to do it. "Tell you what, doll. You take this," he said as he took her hand and slipped her the joint. "For the birthday boy. I'm gonna go check in with Tyler and I'll meet up with you later, huh?" He squeezed her shoulder lightly and made his way over to Tyler, who immediately grinned. "This is really dope, Mr. Doyle! It has been so hard to find work as a Taylor Lautner impersonator the last ten years so this was really rad of you." The fae smiled thinly. "Oh, I bet! But hey, looks like you're in demand again. Go get 'em, tiger!" Tyler laughed and started to howl. "I'm a wolf, bro!" Felix downed his martini. "Aren't you just!" He still had a few joints to last the evening.

As if she'd read Blanche's mind, Nell handed a drink over to Blanche that she'd ordered as soon as she'd seen her friend. She had a feeling they'd all need a lot of alcohol to cope with what was going to happen tonight. What was already happening. "Take it. Take it and run." Then she followed in suit with Winston's idea, simply saying to the bartender, "What they're having. I need two of everything... please. There went Bea to save the poor birthday boy, at least.

Cece grabbed the two drinks from the bartender and slid one over to Simon. “Who knows? Maybe he’s really into this whole mime thing?” This was a strip bar afterall.. Maybe Kaden had found some mime to uh… mime with him. No words needed. She was taking a drink when she spotted more familiar faces across the bar. Jane and Marley, thank god. “Ooh, more friends, come with!” Cece all but dragged Simon over to the rest of the crowd. Jane, Marley and… Felix? Interesting addition. “Guys thank god you’re here too. Please drink with me.” She raised her beer to the group and pointed at Simon, “Hey, here’s the new guy at the morgue if you haven’t met him yet. It’s Simon!”

Was it a tinge of jealousy Nora felt as not one but two mimes started to give Kaden his own public lap dance? A little. Mimes were.... How could she describe them in the perfect words? There were no words to describe just how powerful and majestic they were. The feelings they conveyed. It was art to its purest form. Even the idea of no sound crossing their lips. Honestly, it just made since for mimes. The emotions they were able to convey and convict is just too powerful for words to handle. An ancient godly language would have to be made up to contain it.

Marie-Jeanne smiled at Bea as if she didn't understand her. Did she also want a dance? Or maybe to peel off one of her many stripes?

Was Bea going to have to push a mime stripper today? She didn't want to push a mime stripper.

Alain glanced over at Evelyn's arm. It was actually comforting, in a time like this one. She probably must have noticed him tense, and he was thankful to be with someone who got him. His eyes eventually found Kaden, with a mime on his lap and Beatrice stepping in to rescue him from a certain death. "Jesus Christ," he exclaimed, approaching the pair and giving the mime stripper the most disdainous look he could afford to give. For an instant, he must have looked exactly like his father.

Luce caught sight of other people turning to look at one of the mimes and immediately wished she hadn't. Good luck, Birthday Boy. Tossing back the rest of her drink, she held up the empty drink to Artie and her spouse. "I need a lot more of this if I want to pretend I hadn't seen that. Nice talking to you." She said before making her way over to the bar. Settling next to her sister, she spoke up. "Two of whatever you've got that's strong and will make me forget that." She said before turning to watch the shitshow unfold. Aw. There went Bea. Good luck with all that. "Better her than me." She said to Nell.

With the mime gone, Mercy huffed and turned back to the bar. She ordered something large and strong - and one for Arthur too - before pulling her own pre-rolled 'cigarette' out of her pocket. Lighting it, not even bothering to wonder if it was alright or even safe, Mercy took a pull. "This is more fucked than that time in... what year was it? With the..." Mercy waved the 'cigarette.' "... the orgies and the naked grape-crushing?"

Jane snorted. "I mean, I guess we don't have to do anything unless someone actually gets stabbed," Jane agreed to the toast, laughing lowly. She grinned at Marley, happy to be in hell with someone she knew. And more people she knew. "Oh! Cece!" Jane said, happily. "And - oh, hi Simon! I'm Jane. You can call him Newbie, Stryder."

Artie smiled to herself at the light reassuring touch of Red's thumb on her hand. The woman, Luce, who had been talking tattoos with Red held up her drink and left. "She seemed nice. I bet that's going to be a great tattoo she gives." She cracked a smile. "But now my question is, how do we leave when we obviously can't be the one to interrupt the special boy's special lap dance."

Simon had just taken the drink from Cece when he heard someone start to howl and he had already started to lean his head back when he slammed a hand over his mouth, stopping just short of shoving his knuckles into his teeth to stave off the need as he was dragged compliantly by Cece over to people she presumably knew. He cleared his throat loudly and took an alarmingly large drink as she introduced him and he coughed his breath out from the sting of the alcohol combined with... everything else. Great first impression. "H-hi," He choked.

Evelyn was grateful that they finally found Kaden - and someone else, who she also did not recognize. "Kaden, what exactly is," she motioned vaguely, "this? Seems a little out of taste for you." She looked at the mime and narrowed her eyebrows.

Joanne frowned. She should have been the one to plan this, but someone stole it from right under her hands. "I don't know, but at least there are plenty of mimes. Not enough rats." Kady chattered his teeth in agreement. She followed the other woman, eyes peeled for the Rat King's magnificent mane. A mime had him. Joanne snarled and rolled up her striped sleeves. Kady and Cadin started running around on her shoulders in a frenzy. She was going to tear the stripes off that mime for stealing her Kaden away. And then, she had a king to crown.

"Let him be tortured for a little bit," Marley grinned. "It feels nice." There was certainly a lot of chaos here, and a tinge of horror. Not enough to enjoy or feed from, but it was still nice to enjoy. Marley raised her glass when Cece approached. "Cece! Join us! You, too, new guy! All are welcome in the all night drink fest, here--" she held out two shots to each of them. "Catch up." Grinning behind her sunglasses.

Bo had been staring decidedly at a wall, her back to the stage. The plate of cookies in her hands rattled. She saw nothing. She wanted to see nothing. She couldn't look at the strippers (stripe-ers?). All this time, her gaze lost to the shadows of the wall. Somehow, with great courage, she walked backwards towards the bar. "C-cookie?" She offered meekly to the people there. Her face had become permanently etched with redness. She could see nothing. Hear nothing. She placed the tray down sadly. "I would like some of alcohol please." She had never had a sip of the stuff before. But what better place to try than at this nightmare.

Arthur stared as the mime left on its hands, flipping gracefully down to then crab walk backwards through the crowds somehow avoiding bumping into other people as it vanished. "What... the actual fuck?" it seemed to be all he'd been reduced to saying. He blinked, staring at the spot it had vanished into before looking back to his friend with a shake of his head. "No that's totally not comparable... That was a rather enjoyable experience with a lot of wine at the end of it this... was definitely not... I feel like I need to meet this Kaden dude... If only to get an idea who the hell would want this for a birthday party?" He glanced around the crowd noticing Evelyn stood by someone he didn't recognise currently being... tended to by a scantily striped mime. "Think that might be the birthday boy?"

Blanche immediately downed the drink Nell had handed to her. "What would I do without you, Nellie." She said, sniffing slightly, before looking at Miles. "Freaking Felix's idea. Unless he got the idea when I said he, uh, got stabbed. Oh god, I hope not." Blanche blanched, before ordering another drink.

Kaden winced as the mime jammed her hands right on his wound, right at the stitches. Yup, this was hell. He'd found hell. Could she just stab him now and be done with it? He was relieved to see Bea. "Uh, I'm going to go now," he said as he pushed her away and climbed out of the chair, making sure no knives were about to make an appearance. "She, uh, really needs me." And Evelyn and Alain, too. "Hell. This is hell. Hi. Sorry you had to come," he said as he stood up and tried to practically hide behind his friends from the mime that was still staring, not blinking. Shit. "I might need something stronger than alcohol soon."

Spotting Bo, Winston smiled and waved for her to come over and join them. “If you want an alcohol Bo then you’ve definitely come to the right place,” they hadn’t been paying for drinks all night so they really hope it was open bar, “can we get four of whatever we just ordered please?”

Nell nodded along with her sisters words, wondering if this was how the Stripe Club stayed open. They just horrified their patrons into buying more alcohol. "Let's hope this one doesn't have a knife," she said about Bea having gone to help Kaden. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee there won't be more stabbing in this Chili's tonight if the striped bastard decides to be a dick."

"I think if we take a picture in front of Kaden getting a lapdance that will count as the photo of us being at the party," Red replied. They sighed as they watched Kaden get up from the lapdance. There goes the photo they were going to show at the Silver Bullet. "Want to just leave the gift on one of the cheese tables and get out now?"

Marie-Jeanne looked at the growing crowd, her shoulders sinking and a pout extending. She wiped an invisible tear from her eyes, bent over (salaciously) to pick up one of her stripes and tied it around Kaden's hand, finishing it with a bow. The perfect gift. He pushed her away and she pouted more, before blowing him one last kiss, perking up, and sauntering to find someone else to give presents to.

Later, he would find that bow hard to remove.

"Are you... having a stroke?" Mercy asked. "Here." She held out the 'cigarette' to him. "And there's a lot of wine here if you'd get to drinking like the rest of us." She looked around to where Arthur motioned. "It's a solid chance... come on..." Mercy snagged their drinks and gave Arthur a small push towards the man in question.

If nothing else, at least Cece had these people to drink these horrors away with. From the corner of her eye, she caught a mime pass by them and it only made the desire to drink even stronger. If Cece wasn’t black-out by the 5pm, then she was clearly doing something wrong. “There’s nothing I’d want more than to do shots with you guys. Holy hell I need this. I'm clearly not drunk enough yet. Let’s keep these shots rolling, she yelled over to the silent bartender, who she had decided that she hated. So strongly. God that bartender was the worst. “Here’s to hopefully forgetting this ever happened!” She said, downing the shot.”

Felix moved back over to the bar and forewent another martini, instead opting for a straight tumbler of Jameson. He had put this monochromatic nightmare together and he was going to see it through, like any responsible Fun Supplier. When he caught Marie-Jeanne's eye, he gave her a short thumbs up. His eyes slid down the long line of the bar and the people that had gathered there. "Enjoying yourselves one way or another?" He raised his brows before he gestured to the bartender. "Bartender, top us all off, will you? I think we might be in dire need of liquid courage!"

Not enough... rats? Lydia eyed Joanne for a moment, before realising that there were rats on her shoulder. Lydia couldn't help herself, she recoiled in horror. Fucking vermin. As bad as being surrounded by humans. "Good luck giving him his gift! I hope he enjoys it!" She said, before backing away. Swiftly. Oh, so, very swiftly.

"That was interesting," Bea said to Kaden. "Sorry I didn't grab you sooner." She smiled over at Alain and Evelyn,"Hi, Alain. I don't think we've met before," She said to the woman. "I'm Beatrice," She offered a hand to shake towards Evelyn. Glancing at Kaden,"Felix can set you up with whatever you need. If you wanted that." She could grab Felix and Kaden and smoke with them both outside...

Simon, meanwhile, took the shots the one called Marley offered him but hesitated on drinking it - he hadn't even finished the one he had yet and the different sounds and smells were already mixing up his system, not to mention he still felt the burn of the first swig. So now he was up to two and a half drinks, held in spidery fingers and he couldn't help but give Cece a look of mild concern. She was... really putting those away.

Arthur took the stick without a word and took a slow inhale, exhaling the smoke to once side slowly as he tried to steady his nerves. "Fuck, this is the worst place I've ever been to and that's saying something..." He took another drag before he offered it back to her. With the light shove he made his way over to Evelyn and the guy he assumed was Kaden? "Hey Evelyn..." he smiled warmly "you look lovely as always." Noticing Bea who he hadn't seen since the beach incident he gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Ah... so this was Kaden.

Alain glanced down at Kaden's hand and wrinkled his nose. "You better take that off before you end up turning into one of these things..." His expression softened as the mime stepped away, at last, and he patted the man on the shoulder. "I don't know whose idea this is, but they'll have to suffer for what they have done to us, good taste, and human dignity." His brow shot up and he shook his head : "You really want to be drunk and high in a place like this? I'd want to be alert, if I were you..." Then turning his attention toward Bea, he smiled back at her "How have you been?"

Bo held on to Winston like a life line. She hobbled over. Shocked, mostly. When had the shots come? Winston ordered four but Bo downed all four of them. Then ordered more. "Hi guys," she smiled at them. The alcohol had not done it's work yet, but it would. Then...they would see. "Winston, I love you. Marley, I love you. Jane, I love you. Kaden...he's okay." They would all see.

Winston didn’t take too long to find themselves back with a number of their colleagues. Somehow a shot got passed into their hand and they swallowed it alongside Jane and Marley. Blanche and Nell weren’t far away but this might be the first time . Somewhat tipsily they grinned at everyone. “I’m starting to think if we do enough of these it might not be that bad.” 

Artie frowned as Kaden got up from his dance also noting they were losing their picture opportunity. "You know what? Just stand in front of a mime, I'll snap a picture we can make it our Christmas greeting card and lets shove the gift at Kaden and blow this popsicle stand."

Artie frowned as Kaden got up from his dance also noting they were losing their picture opportunity. "You know what? Just stand in front of a mime, I'll snap a picture we can make it our Christmas greeting card and lets shove the gift at Kaden and blow this popsicle stand."

Mercy followed, grinning at the lunacy going on around them. "Please... you're being dramatic," she said to Arthur as they moved through the crowd. She waved a greeting to Evelyn as well, before taking a moment to look at the poor sap who's birthday it was.

Luce frowned. "Wait, Kaden got stabbed by a mime? That's why he was in the hospital?" The fact that he was having this party, here of all places? She doubled over laughing, shaking her head at the thought. "Well. If it comes to it, I'll be right next to you. I'm not about to stab anyone though." She said, before holding her fists up jokingly. "But, I'd love to see what happens if you punch a mime in the face." She said with a shrug. But, when the mime relented and left Kaden alone, Luce couldn't help but feel a bit dissapointed. She would have loved to have a bar brawl in the Stripe Club.

Nell didn't have the best track record with Bo, having been in the back of her cop car a couple of times, but she knew she meant well enough. So she was a bit surprised when Bo downed four shots all in quick succession as she leaned around Winston. "Bo- uh- I don't know if that's a good idea." Had she ever even seen Bo drunk, before? As for taking four shots herself...well that was a different story as she picked up another one from the bar and handed a shot to Winston, as well. "I think tha's very sound logic."

Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief as the mime left, and smiled at Kaden, before turning to the woman. "Oh, it is a pleasure. I am Evelyn, you have a lovely name. Shakespearean, even if that was not the intention when naming you." "Honestly, I might need at least one shot of something," she motioned to the bartender for a small drink and took it, downing it in one go. "Luckily, I have a high tolerance."

Then Nell turned back to her sister, offering her a shot as well. "I'm honestly not sure who's idea the venue was. It seems...questionable after he got stabbed, though. Ugh- my own sister....won't even stab a mime with me. I mean...it wouldn't be the first time I punched a mime. You know this."

Luce belatedly noticed that Bo had walked up and she immediately turned to face the bartender, who seemed to be sweating heavily through his thick mime make up, clearly very busy. He pushed her the drinks she'd ordered and she slid a five dollar bill across the table. "If you need help, blink twice." She said. The mime stared at her, unblinking. Drink in one hand, Luce accepted the shot from Nell and clinked it together. "To Kaden. And to punching mimes." She tossed back the shot.

Marie-Jeanne slipped through the crowd to the bar, to the woman who smelled like chemicals. She was so pretty, and Marie-Jeanne knew instantly that her name was Cece. She smiled, touching Cece's shoulder, before waving a quick number of gestures to the bartender. He rolled his eyes, and served an invisible shot of tequila, complete with invisible lime and the very visible salt shaker. She picked up the salt shaker and shook it over her hand - no salt fell out of the visibly full shaker. Then she raised her glass in toast with Cece, licked the invisible salt, took the shot and bit on the lime, cringing. Do you want some, she gestured? Pouring out a fresh shot of invisible tequila shots for the whole group. Obviously, her eyes were on all of them, but her wide smile (Fun mime fact: Marie-Jeanne had too many teeth) was aimed entirely at Cece.

Looked over to Arthur as he made his way over, along with Mercy, Evelyn waved hello. "Well, I would say it is a pleasure to see you both, and it is, though again, I would prefer different circumstances. Plus side, they serve decent alcohol."

Joanne debated: track down Kaden to deliver her gift, or go fight the mime who got to him first? There'd be time for Kaden later, but her rats needed some fresh blood. She located one of the striped fiends who'd danced for Kaden and trailed her, figuring that her own stripes and beret afforded her some camouflage. But a gloved hand was placed around her wrist. The rats panicked, going after the mime, but there was another. And another. And another. The mimes enveloped her, and she had no choice to be swept away in a striped current.

"Drink!" Marley exclaimed to Simon. "You're falling behind!" Somehow, the bartender kept providing shots, and Marley was more than happy to suck them down. Finally feeling that tingle in her fingertips. She nudged Jane. "Feeling better yet, Newbie?" she grinned. "If you need any help, just say so." Someone was suddenly near them, someone Marley didn't care for, licking salt and smiling. Ugh, salt. She turned back to Jane. "Having fun yet?"

Arthur grimaced ever so slightly. "You and me both, I think a mime just tried to make me strip..." he shook his head a little bit still mildly traumatised at the thought. "And..." he glanced to the man nearby having heard him be addressed as such but feeling inclined to confirm just in case "you must be Kaden then? Happy birthday."

Kaden put his hand on Alain's shoulder. "Look, I need to be drunk to survive this. Do you see all this? Do you see that?!" He gestured to the room. All of it. He tried to pull the bow off his arm, no luck. Merde. He found another drink in his hand as some sort of toast was happening. Great. That was fine. He turned to the new person in their circle. "Hey, I don't know you. Yeah, that's me alright. This shit storm is all for me. So glad."

"Alcohol makes it all better," Mercy said to Evelyn. "And man who did you piss off for this debacle? I mean... it's fucking great... but holy shit..." she laughed at Kaden.

Nell glanced around to the next group over, raising her hand to take the opportunity to wave at Kaden and say, "Happy Birthday! Try not to stab anything tonight, you're doing great."

Cece felt the touch on her shoulder and turned smiling, assuming it was someone else from the department coming to join in on the drinking fun. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the worst thing that could possibly ever happen to her. “Oh. No, no. I’m definitely going to need way more alcohol to deal with this.” She shook her head and reached out, grabbing the drink from a random patron sitting at the bar. He gave her a look, but she just took a long drink from his beer, “Look, I know why I got dragged here. What’s your excuse?” She narrowed her eyes at him and went back to drinking. After more alcohol and the room had finally started spinning, she raised her glass of invisible tequila that the horrifying mime had poured and downed it. Or well, pretended to. Someone please shoot her. This was a police department. She knew someone here had a gun.

Simon didn't realise that he had shifted all three drinks to one hand as he rubbed at his nose, turning his head as that smell caught him again. Different, still new and bad but good. He snapped his head back to Marley as the latter exclaimed to him and he absently. "Oh, er... sorry," He apologised and half-heartedly took another sip, sticking his tongue out at the taste. He handed one of the shots he had BEEN handed back to Marley as he caught the mime out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't explain why but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was just a mime, it was just a mime...

Red basically sprinted over to Kaden with Artie on their arm and handed the gift to Kaden. "Gotta go the kid is sick at home. This party was fucking weird. See you around dude. Good luck." Turning to Artie,"Let's go."

"Cheers to forgetting this all ever happened!" Jane agreed with Cece, knocking back another shot. She clapped Simon on the shoulder lightly, "Keep up, keep up. Or they'll get you," she said spookily, though there was some part of her that believed that. She laughed when Stryder nudged her, nodding. She felt warm and fuzzy by now, ready to settle in and watch the chaos. But if any of those things came near her, there was going to be a problem. "I wouldn't say fun," Jane said, shrugging slightly, "But a little better. If I squint things are less sparkly."

Arthur raised his hand a little and smiled, "nice to meet you Kaden... Arthur - Regan sent me an invite..." not sure why, but here he was. Hearing Mercy's remark as she arrived at his side he laughed quietly, "Mercy's right, what happened to result in this level of punishment?"

One moment, the mime that had murmured to her was there. The next she was gone? Or perhaps she was just one of the many unrecognisable mimes in the room. Either way, Lydia snapped a photo of Kaden looking traumatised to send to Deirdre, and ducked out for later.

Luce set the empty shot glass on the bar and took a long drink from her whiskey glass. Glancing down the bar, she saw the familiar red suit down the way. "I'm going to see if I can get something to liven up the party. Don't do anything I wouldn't." She joked to her sister before walking over to the red-suited man with the strange glasses. "So, you're the guy to see if we needed anything, huh?" She said with a grin and holding her glass out to clink with his.

Marley gave a loud laugh. "What? You don't like glitter, Newbie? Well," she ran her finger across the bar top, scooping up some glitter onto it, "get used to it!" And swiped her finger across Jane's cheek, leaving a streak of glitter. Laughed again, taking another shot. This was great. Maybe she would have to thank Langley after all.

Dario walked in through the front door, having completely misread the sign for this place, thinking it was a regular, old strip club, and wondering whether it might actually be any good. He didn't actually enjoy strip clubs that much, but he'd been curious. Imagine his surprise when he was greeted by nothing but...stripes And far more people that he'd expected to be in here. He recognized some of that faces, but other were lost on him. He paused there in his confusion, a simple "What the fuck" expressing his feelings on the whole matter.

Blanche decided that she was never, ever going to speak of that awful lap dance again... unless it was a few days after this and she saw the opportunity to roast the poor birthday boy. But now? IF she drank more, she could pretend only that Tyler Lautner was the only thing she had a hand in in this hell scape. She glanced at Nell. "Wait, are we stabbing a mime? I thought that wasn't allowed."

Bea was too busy staring at the woman who was being taken by mimes to pay attention to what was happening around her. When she finally looked back at the group she was in there were suddenly more people. This was one of the most overwhelming parties she'd ever been at. "Hi," She said to them all, before looking back to where the woman had been. "Did anyone else just see that lady get pulled away by mimes?"

Kaden narrowed his eyes. "So you're the pie guy, huh?" The alcohol might have been taking effect. A little. Thank god. He almost missed Red leaving. He tried to wave goodbye, he guessed. Did that mean he could leave too? No, something told him not yet. He turned back to Mercy and Arthur. "Fuck if I know. I think a certain pipsqueak is to blame. And a guy in a red suit. And my girlfriend. Maybe."

Marie-Jeanne clapped as Cece downed the shot, and immediately poured her two more, handing them to her, before beginning a sultry dance for her. She was interested, after all, she'd drunk the tequila. And maybe her friends would like them too. Then Marie-Jeanne could introduce them all to her Friend. her Friend was so hungry, after all. All of them were hungry.

"You mean Blanche??" Mercy asked. "The pipsqueak? Doesn't surprise me. She's weird like that. Good weird. She's my new assistant, did I tell you??" she suddenly said to Arthur. "I've got... a protege."

Bo could feel it. The alcohol. Finally. "PARTYYYYYYYY!!!" She screeched. She jumped forward. She kissed someone on the cheek, and then someone else. And then she ran around. Kissed some more cheeks. "PARTTTYYYYTYYYY!" She kissed a mime. Or maybe that was a chair. She thought she saw someone get taken by mines. She cheered. "TAKE US ALL AWAY MIMES!!" She was drunk, very drunk. Which was a lot for a woman that had never had a sip before. She ran off to find more cheeks that needed smooching.

Jeff never made it into the building because he showed up, saw the Mimes, Mimes, Mimes neon sign, and said "What the fucking fuck is that?" and then made the only smart decision he had ever made: He said "Fuck that" and turned around and went home, promising himself to give Kaden's birthday gift to him at a later date.

Arthur blinked tilting his head a little. Regan had mentioned that Kaden might have an issue with the pie thing but he didn't really see what the issue was. What had Regan said? That he was fragile? "Uh... Yeah I guess so? She seemed upset, so I figured it was the best thing I could do to help." He tipped his shoulder in a little shrug, not really understanding what he meant about a pipsqueak but he'd seen someone in a red suit. "That's... yeah, wow. This whole thing is... something else entirely."

As Bo began her apparent tirade through the room, Winston immediately wondered if perhaps they had encouraged a little bit too much of a good thing. Stumbling after them, they tried to keep the main group in sight. But they realised in that moment that they had somewhat lost track of time and perhaps more importantly just how much they had had to drink. "Hey Bo," they said quietly as the world swayed gently around them, "I'm gonna get some water, do you want to come get some water with me?" they could barely stand up anymore. They really hoped Bo said yes because the world was spinning a bit and they needed to sit down.

Dario winced as a near screech hurt his sensitive ears, but then he realized he recognized the shriek. "Bo?" he asked as the women went around on her tirade of cheek kissing, and he quickly darted out an arm to try and latch onto the girl and keep her from continuing this....mess. "Are you like...okay?"

Bea supposed there wasn't much to do for the lady now and shrugged it off, looking back at Kaden and then Arthur. Oh no. The pie guy was Arthur. "Oh, you made the pie. That was nice of you," She wanted to be polite but Kaden had been baking so much because of Arthur's pie and she was honestly a little concerned now that the two men were meeting.

"I'm sorry, what?" Alain looked at Beatrice, a confused look on his face. She was joking right? Although, he was soon to divert from someone possibly being abducted by mimes, hearing Kaden finally call Regan his girlfriend. "What was that?" He looked over at him, with his eyebrows raised. "Nah, Regan would never allow this. She would have planned a skeleton party or something," he observed. Much like Kaden, Alain ended up with a glass he did not ask for in his hand. Maybe he could drink that, after all. This would save him a little from this hell.

Luce ducked out of the way from Bo's cheek kissing with a grimace. Fuck that.

Simon clutched his remaining two glasses tighter, feeling Jane's hand on his shoulder but instead, he handed her his other drink firmly to ensure she didn't drop it. He kept his eyes on the mime stripper now, noting everything she was doing or rather, NOT doing. Pantomime, a talent unless it was like this. He didn't like it at all. "Ms B-- Cece," He whispered, perhaps more to himself. "I don't know about this."

With a lit joint in hand and not a single fuck to give, Felix pushed away from the bar and caught the eye of one of the mimes. He did his best to motion a cake. Apparently, it was good enough and they nodded. “Alright! Who’s ready for cake? I’m sure it’ll stack real nicely with all the tequila and whiskey, believe you me!” He took a long hit and waited. The vague music shut off and enveloped the room in a thick silence. Until slightly squeaky wheels, amplified by the quiet, squeaked in the distance. In rolled a large cake. A cake large enough to fit a mime. No one seemed to be actually rolling it, as a gaggle of mime strippers made vague pushing motions behind it. It moved on its own. Tall candles sparkled a top of it. The cake came to a stop in front of Kaden and Felix started to grin. The mimes that had been 'pushing' the cake started to make accordion motions to some distant tune of Happy Birthday as a mime, barely clad, started to slither their way from the top. It didn’t even sound like it was in the same building. The fae smirked at Luce and clinked glasses. “Absolutely anything,” he said. “Whatcha got in mind to really spice this up?”

Mercy wanted pie. Why didn't she have any pie? Who was screaming?? Was it a fun scream? Or a death scream? She couldn't tell.

Jane watched as Marley stuck her finger in the glitter, before - "Don't you dare!" she said, before she scowled at Marley. "You just - did you just - .... I'm sparkly now." Jane said, the alcohol making it hard to really process what the fuck that was. Jane grabbed a pinch of glitter and sprinkled it on Marley's shirt. "There, now you're sparkly too - oh NO. Bo!" Jane said, in horror, pointing. "We should go get her."

Bea watched in horror as Felix made an announcement with a lit joint in his hand. "This is a cop party!" She mouthed at him, eyes wide, hoping he would get the memo that that was not a good idea in front of them. "What the heck?" She whispered as the cake began to pull up in front of Kaden. "Do mimes have magic?"

Oh. Cake. A... fucking... wow, that was a big cake. Now Mercy wanted cake. Wait... did she? When did it get quiet? Was she talking to herself? Or out loud?

Arthur furrowed his brow a little bit, was there some kind of context he was missing here? He looked to Bea and smiled, polite if not a little reserved trying to understand what he was missing out of the situation. "Uh... thanks? I think? Just a once off... I don't know Regan well so..." he shrugged again, slightly awkwardly. The moment was cut off by the arrival of the cake and Arthur stared at it in mounting horror. Why was he by Kaden at this point? Good gods above... This was something else entirely and he had no words to describe it. 

Marley watched as Bo took off. Oh, she should've realized that Bo was a lightweight. Oops. Shrugging, she turned back to Jane. "Nah, looks like the computer guy and Mister Pecs have that covered," she said, pointing towards the two scurrying after the drunken Bo. "Hey, I don't need sparkles. I already have the MOST sparkly personality in the entire precinct," she said with a deadpan stare. "See?" Before sprinkling more glitter on Jane.

"Oi! No fucking... the fucking cake.... you... fucks..." Mercy promptly threw her glass at one of the mimes. The mime somehow slithered to the side, and the sound of breaking glass echoed through the eerie silence. The mimes did not notice. Only continued their mimery.

Winston stumbled as they noticed the cake, Nell was saying something about it being defiled and if Winston knew mimes, which they didn't, then this wasn't beyond the realms of possibility with them. "Really?" they slurred, reaching up to adjust their glasses somewhat haphazardly, "Is nothing sacred anymore?" they stumbled towards the bar, hoping there would be something non alcoholic they could eat.

Luce stared at the cake that the red suited man had brought in with growing horror. Fuck. Taking a long drink from her glass, she turned to the culprit. At this point, she was going to take whatever she could get to make sure that she never remembered seeing anyof this. "Drugs. Drugs to forget... all of that." She said, gesturing to Kaden, to the cake, to the cursed fucking mimes. "What would you recommend?"

Marie-Jeanne turned as the cake rolled in, miming applause. Her face slowly went blank. Her eyes widened and stopped moving. The silent music inside her stilled. it wasn't just her. It was many of them. Watching, silently, the miming writhing stripers (spelling entirely correct).

Oh yeah, Cece was totally about to get back alley murdered by this creepy ass mime. She had been way too excited about that fake alcohol. Had she just gotten mime roofied? She did feel more drunk, but maybe that was just a placebo effect. Or all the other alcohol she had consumed. She heard Simon behind her speaking, but it mostly came out as a buzzing noise instead of actual words. “I’m-it’s fine. We’re fine.” She waved away the someone, she wasn’t sure what direction she was facing at this point. What the hell had that fake shot glass been? Oh fuck, was this mime magic? Shit that’d actually be kinda cool if it wasn’t the worst. “Simon, my friend. Cece says that she’s fucked up.” And then, because horrible decisions were a cornerstone of her character apparently, she mimed drinking the other too fake glasses.

"Arthur, as nice as you are to look at, the idea of you stripping is about seven-thousand shades of 'absolutely not' in my book." Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Yes, somehow I do not feel as though Regan would be the sort to organize this." Alain had gotten a drink, somehow - but wasn't he not drinking? Hadn't he told her that? "You are so kind to get me something else to drink." She said, raising an eyebrow at him, a grin crossing her lips as she took the drink out of his hand, her fingers brushing lightly against his. She downed that drink too, though then she couldn't help but watch as a cake was brought out and - no, absolutely not - she looked over to Alain. "Would you like to stay, or should we use this as a chance to get away?"

Arthur shook his head at Evelyn's remark and huffed "right? in your books and mine, don't worry." The clatter of glass however made him wince as he looked aside at Mercy, before muttering under his breath "make a scene why don't you?" The mimes just seemed to continue their mimeockery oblivious to the act.

Mercy turned to stare at the side of Arthur's face. "Make a scene? What's that supposed to mean??"

"I think... I think everyone here is going to need therapy." Bea said softly.

Felix tilted his head and knowingly smiled at Luce. “I’ve got some Blue Velvet,” he said as he pulled out a very small bag of said drug, as well as a handful of rolling papers. “You’ll feel better about the whole thing, cake and the candles. Got a party discount of fifteen, because I might need it too. You in? Also got more than a few mushrooms to go around of the blue, red, and purple variety.”

The glass shattering also made Simon grimace if only because it was an unexpected noise after silence. He shook his head, wrenching his gaze away from the nightmarish... thing they rolled out and called a cake and he set his half-empty glass on the bar. "Cece, I think we should go," He said with more urgency, placing a hand on her shoulder this time. He would apologise later.

Alain looked over as the mimes did... things with what was meant to be the birthday cake. His eyes rolled at the sight of it. Gross. He had always hated those cakes with icing and fancy designs that Americans were so fond of. "Yeah, I'm not enduring anymore of this, especially not for a bland vanilla cake," he did not protest one bit as she took the drink from his hands. He was actually thankful, and even more so now that he had a good reason to leave. "Let's get out of here," he agreed.

Bo screamed in Winston's face. "I LOVE YOUUUUUU". She turned to Dario. "You're like so hot. Like hotter than all these mimes, and these mimes are pretty hot." And then she ran off again. More cheeks to kiss. Was that Evelyn? She'd smooch that evil cheek. Did she see Luce? Nell? Those were cheeks to kiss. That guy over there? Lonely cheek. "PARTTTTYYYYY!" She screamed again. Bo stood up on a table, "ONE TIME KADEN BLASTED MAMMA MIA THROUGH THE STATION AND HE WAS SINGING ALONG AND I'M SENDING YOU ALL THE VIDEOOOOO!!" Then she tumbled off the table. She paused. "Ooh. Cake."

Luce let out a sigh of relief. At least Mr. Red Suit wasn't some shitty undercover cop or something. The thought had crossed her mind, but honestly, jail probably would have been a welcome sight from this hellhole. "Blue Velvet sounds great to me. I'm Luce, by the way." She said with a nod. "Mushrooms aren't my thing though. But, consider me down to clown." She grimaced. "Or mime, I guess."

Arthur gestured vaguely to Mercy, "I mean that... You. You know?" He was distracted soon enough by a woman as she climbed up on the table announcing something about Mamma Mia... "Ooookay, on that note... I think we should... get going?"

Bea turned to Kaden,"Did you actually do that?" She had been at the Silver Bullet and they loved ABBA. She supposed it made sense if he loved them too.

"Me? What about me? Are you implying that I..." Mercy huffed. "I don't make sce-" SHe blinked at the woman on the table. "That's a scene."

Kaden wasn't ready for any of this. Not any of it. "Well I'm sure it was incredible," he told Arthur. He caught the vibe from Bea to be nice but he didn't give a shit. He made a promise to have fun, right? This was fun. Maybe. That cake was fucking cursed. This whole place was cursed. And so was Bo, apparently. "Maybe," he grumbled to Bea. "Did Felix say something about drugs, did I hear that right? Super hearing. Your sister's doing drugs right now by the way."

Wasting no time at all, Felix rolled the both of them a nice blue cigarette and handed one to her. "Enjoy. You might try walking into some walls and stuff, but compared to the rest of this mime shit show, wouldn't be the worst. Pleasure to meet you, Luce. I'm Felix, the reason everyone is currently suffering. Pretty fun, right?"

Normally, Dario would enjoy a pretty girl calling him hot. But Bo was absolutely blitzed, it seemed. One moment she was there, and the next she was off again, leaving him in vaugely concerned confusion. At least she didn't seem to be a danger to herself. Then she tumbled off the table. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, trying to follow her like her own personal nanny or something. "That looked like it could have hurt." Absently, he looked towards the woman pointing towards Bo, frowning in her direction. "Pretty sure throwing a glass out of nowhere is more of a scene than getting on a table."

Evelyn nodded in agreement with Alain. "That cake looks terrible - perhaps you should send Kaden something better, since the two of you are both excellent at baking. I bet he would appreciate that." She waved a goodbye to Kaden, making a mental note to send him really good alcohol and probably many other things later, before she looked back to Alain. "Yes, I agree. We should get out of here. You are welcome to come over, I have coffee and tea and no mimes."

Alain handed the box that contained the striped Breton shirt to Kaden. Following after Evelyn, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan. We can discuss this fiasco over coffee, tea, and better cake."

Bo passed out in the corner.

All of the mimes had stopped moving. Only the mimes that continued to slither out of the cake still moved, and the ones playing accordions. The mimes all looked to Kaden and his party. Every single one of them. Marie-Jeanne walked over to the cake, picking up an invisible plate and knife as she walked, swaying her stripey hips. She mimed slicing into the cake, and again, and slid an invisible slice of cake onto her invisible cake. She turned her blank face to Kaden, stepped forward, and hurled the slice at him, where it splattered all over his features. The cake was still whole, but somehow, he was visibly covered in icing and cake crumbs. She laughed, silently, her eyes fixed on him. What a fun birthday party!

#wickedswriting #chatzy

[delta-altair]

So I’m not gonna speculate too hard on the behind-the-scenes of the actual ‘what happens to the character’ decision because it seems pretty confused at the moment.

But.

Even if Jason really wanted to leave and Q had to exit the show, that still doesn’t erase how BIZARRE a turn the last few episodes took with respect to everyone’s character. Everyone.

Like Alice. Escaped from the Library, had the ‘book closed’ on her and Q, went to that town and figured out a way to help instead of hurt with magic. Seemed to be angling towards a redemption where Alice uses her considerable talent for magic for good. But then she just jumps back with Q and does almost nothing substantial with respect to her own character arc in the last few episodes. Then gets to lead The Library. Lol ok??

Julia. Omg...Julia :(. Literally theme of the whole season was building up to her choice on what she was going to be. Even though it was in the ‘weird episodes’ zone that whole discussion with Our Lady Underground was literally about it. But then nope, she again does literally nothing other than getting possessed and having her choice taken from her.

Penny23. What was his arc this season? He loves Julia, ok I get it. I’m not exactly angry at him for the decision he made cause like, yeah that’s a shitty call to have to make. But what else happened? Kind of nothing?

Kady. Was having a cool rebellion arc of Hedge Witches vs the Library, and as another post here so beautifully pointed out, SHOULD HAVE been the one to fuck Everett up. That stops dead cold and turns out she just really wanted to be Penny’s girlfriend? This is another great example of the writers trying to be deep but only hitting about puddle depth. I get they were trying to show that the stone cold badass female character and ALSO have emotions/feelings and that isn’t a negative thing. But in the last couple episodes she was literally reduced to wanting to be a love interest. That’s what we like to call an overcorrection.

Margo. This is actually I think where the weirdass writing comes out the most. Goes into the desert and is picking black sand out of the rest to try and save Eliot. Then for that one episode literally stops giving a shit, stares at fish!Josh the whole episode even though her fairy eye could have done it. Then the next episode is back on the front lines to save Eliot (which let me be clear, I’m SO HAPPY Margo was the one to free him, it’s just the lead up made no fucking sense!)

Q. ‘Team Eliot’ all the way up until like the last 2 episodes, then barely spares a glance when Eliot wakes up in order to go dump the bottle off when he didn’t even NEED TO GO AND DO THAT. Alice knew where to go, not Q, and Q can’t travel like Penny. Is the character to have the primary confrontation with Everett even though Q barely knew what his whole deal was? Literally why was this not Kady??

Josh....sort of had a character arc but he returned to just being the recurring support by the end two episodes. But honestly is the character least damaged by the season I guess, so good for you man?

Marina, says she wants to go see her GF and then is NEVER SEEN AGAIN. Lol ok?

Fen, woo High King Ruler arc- oh never mind she got deposed.

The Monster is developing complex emotions about humankind, maybe is growing to care about some of them? Possibly going to have a full confrontation/heel-face-turn with Quentin about this? Nope just gone. Nothing EVER came to light about his character other than wanting to get his Sister back, who was also a literally Nothing in terms of plot+character.

Like...what happened?!? Obviously they didn’t do pickup shoots else we would have heard about it so it was obviously written like this, but WHY? How did that happen? The tone and overall feeling of the last 2-3 episodes was so detached from the rest of the season. I seriously don’t get it at all. Did they have an original plan for the season really far in advance and then edited the last 3 episodes around to accommodate Jason leaving? That’s the only logical explanation I can think of.

#the magicians #the magicians spoilers #quentin coldwater #jason ralph #eliot waugh #hale appleman #margo hanson #fan #kady orloff diaz #julia wicker #penny adiyodi #josh hoberman #the monster

[lunaraindrop]

Quentin’s Mentor (part 4)

A lot of shit happened quickly to Quentin and his friends.

The Beast was gone.

Just like that.

One minute he was terrorizing people, the next? Eaten by Quentin’s pet plant.

All of that fear and angst an-and scary fucking build-up just…dissolved into nothing. 

Very anticlimactic. 

It left everyone standing dumbstruck, not sure what to do or how to react.

It was a little disconcerting.

Oh, and apparently The Beast, the guy that ripped out Dean Fogg’s eyes, was the psychotic voice in Penny’s head, and was trying to kill him at every turn? Yeah, that was MARTIN FUCKING CHATWIN! Martin Chatwin, one of his childhood heroes, was trying to kill him.

What the hell?!

In all honestly, he was not sure how to react to that. On the one hand, why the hell did Martin Chatwin want him dead? Him! HE wasn’t special by any means, so what gives?

On the other hand…holy-fucking-shit Martin Chatwin, THE Martin Chatwin made it his purpose to kill HIM! Quentin Coldwater! Martin Chatwin was *eaten* alive by HIS pet plant! (Which is ironically named after Martin’s sister. That would make for an interesting feminist philosophy paper.)

…was it weird that he felt a little…in awe about all of this? Maybe even a little special? Like…maybe he wasn’t such a screw up and he was a chosen nemesis to the big bad in a story? Because, well, he kind of was? Like, umm, nobody was exactly sure why Quentin was targeted by Martin fucking Chatwin, but he *was* a target. That’s why Jane (Chatwin, not his cat-like purple and blue Venus fly trap) kept telling him to step off the garden path.

Apparently the garden path took offense. 

It was l-like Treebeard and the Ents in Lord of the Rings! Nature fights back, mmm hmm…bitches.

He was just glad nature was on his side. He was on theirs too.

Case in point, this was why he was running through Queens in the middle of the night, heading for a portal in an alley that would take him to the Addams mansion. 

His arms were crossed across his chest, cradling what was hiding inside his maroon hoodie. Tucked up against his sternum was his poor baby plant, Jane. While she shrank back to her original size after eating The Beast, she turned a sickly green-gray and lost some of her vibrant leaves a few hours later. 

After the first few hours of being saved, he was worried that Jane would get a taste for human flesh. He loved her, but he was not about to go on a killing spree to keep her fed. Maybe. No, definitely not. Maybe rob a morgue…?Anyway, Morticia never warned him of anything like this. She just old him to make sure she was watered, fertilized, and had a steady diet of insects and small mammals.

Nothing was ever mentioned about her growing in size and eating a human whole.  

Those went out the window when she kept gagging (well, as much as a plant can sound like gagging), wilted, and changed into such dull colors.

He was concerned, yes, but he was a little to freaked out (and frankly embarrassed) to go to Morticia Addams for help. He had only had Jane for a couple of months, and now he allowed her to eat people and she was sick? He knew Mortica was…an odd lady, but as his mentor he wanted to impress her. She trusted him with this gift…and now he was letting her down.

He decided to ask for some help on campus. Surely someone would know how to help his magic plant.

That turned out to be a big mistake. Just like Alice, nobody could identify what species she was. 

Then Lipsom dropped the bomb: They wanted to study her. 

As in take her away, cut her open, and find out more about how Martin became The Beast.

Margo was angry and cussed Fogg out for going along with this plan.

Penny, who is usually a dick, actually looked really sad and left the room without comment. Kady followed, but not before giving Jane one mournful stare before sneering at the professors.

Alice…was actually on Lipsom’s side. She tried to sympathetically reasoned that this was a perfect chance to learn what had happened, how to avoid it happening again, and that Jane was really dangerous now.

It was Eliot though that was peculiar. Eliot, who probably loved Jane just as much as he did, was stone-faced the entire time. He didn’t stop or hold Margo back, but he also didn’t speak at all. He hardly moved except to pet at Jane’s drooping little head. He didn’t seem to fear that she could snap off his hand.

Neither did Quentin.

Quentin turned to the Dean. “You know what? No. Fuck you, and fuck that! S-she just saved all of our lives! A-and s-s-s-she’s sick because she did! You don’t touch her! 

Dean Fogg sighed and covered his face with his hand.

“I’m going to assume that that literal death trap came from Morticia Addams to annoy me into an early grave. Your precious ‘Jane’ is obviously poisoned by something to do with eating Martin Chatwin. We need to know what. Normally, a large type of Venus fly trap even remotely close to that size would take a couple of days to digest a small animal. Yours won’t live that long. I estimate that she has maybe ten hours to live. You have five to get me what is left of The Beast’s body, or we’re going in for it.”

They tried to call the mansion, but nobody answered. Luckily Fogg, showing he had some heart (even small) told him of a portal behind a diner that take him as far as the front gate. But he also warned Quentin.

“We don’t know how dangerous your plant is. Keep her out of sight, and away from the public’s eye. It’s not my fault if she eats you too.”

Quentin narrows his eyes and lifted his chin in defiance. “Jane would never hurt me, or anyone else really unless they are bad people. I’ll be fine.” With that he stuck her wilting, quivering body safely into his hoodie, close to his heart.

Just before leaving Brakebills wards, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Eliot. Still stone-faced, his eyes showed his distress. Intense hazel eyes locked onto his own as he stepped closer. So close their chests almost touched. Breaking eye contact for a few seconds, he leaned down and placed a lingering kiss over the maroon fabric, just grazing her head and landing softly on Q’s heart. He looked back up at Quentin again and tucked his hair back behind his ear.

“These Addames…do you really think they can help her?”

Quentin shrugged, unconsciously leaning closer to Eliot, being careful not to crush the plant. “I-I think, uh, I hope? She did come from a cutting from one of Morticia’s plants, so there’s a good chance she will know how to help Jane. I really hope she knows how to help Jane.” his voice broke at the end. Eliot carefully pulled him close in a warm, one armed hug.

“Okay. Then go take care of our girl, Q.”

Those words echoed through his brain as he made his way up the long drive.

In front of him stood a giant, Gothic house. Something that looked like it belonged in Jane Eyre or Brideshead, Revisited. As he went to look for some type of buzzer, the gate ominously opened…

#queliot #queliot fic #lunaraindrop #morticia addams #quentin's mentor

[official-mermaid]

And 70 Margo & Eliot (also platonic. duuh) Please

Let me just first say that I’m sorry this took so long. Also I’m sorry the fic that came out of it ended up being canon compliant. 

70.  “It’s three a.m.Why are you making soup?”

Let’s Be Honest (on AO3)

“It’s three a. m. Why are you making soup?”

Eliot paused. “I truly don’t have a good answer to that.”

Margo walked into the kitchen, flicking the light on. “Andwhy were you making soup in the dark?”

He glanced at her, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t havea good answer to that either.”

“El—”

“Look, you don’t have to say it.” Eliot angled himselftowards the pot, focusing intently on stirring the wooden spoon. “I know.”

“Oh, well shit, as long as you know.”

Margo’s tone was sardonic, but Eliot knew her well enough tohear the note of concern lurking underneath. She wasn’t wrong to worry, whichwas, truly, the very worst part. Eliot wished he could claim to be fine. Hewished he could claim to not need anyone’s concern.

The fact of the matter was that he didn’t have much of adefense for himself.

He wasn’t even sure how he was standing. Every moment hewasn’t in pieces was a small miracle.

“Would you like some?” Eliot offered, as though this was allnormal.

“I mean, yeah, duh,” Margo replied, settling down ona stool at the counter. “I’ve missed your cooking.”

Eliot’s throat tightened at that. For him, it hadn’t feltlike all that long. The time he spent in the Happy Place was so… unreal. It wasdreamlike. There was no end or beginning to any of it. Time wasn’t a factor. Hewas just sort of floating in the space of memory without much awareness.

Even after he knew it wasn’t real, he couldn’t feel time.

Meanwhile, time was passing normally out here in the realworld. He’d been gone for the better part of a year, so they said. He’d missed Valentine’sday. He’d missed his birthday. He’d missed Margo’s birthday.

He’d missed Quentin’s birthday, too.

“Sorry,” Margo’s voice cut in suddenly. “Didn’t mean to wreckthe cheery mood.”

Eliot noticed how his hand had stilled. He cleared his throat,getting back to stirring, a little too briskly. He had to drop the spoon andflex his hand before he could get back to a gentle pace.

The cheery mood. What a concept. “Oh, no, of course.Must maintain the cheery mood. Whatever would we do without it?”

Margo let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Best to keep upappearances.” She sighed. “How are you? You’re not really supposed to be up.”

The sincerity in her tone was nearly startling. Eliot and Margohad never been the type of friends who asked each other how they were. Theundercurrent was always there: they were fucked up, they’d always be fucked up,at the very least they could be a fun kind of fucked up, who wants amartini?

They’d never talked much about how they were doing. Theywere there for each other, sure, but honesty was never either of their strongsuits. Eliot always thought that was why Quentin worked so well with them—his earnestnesskept them grounded in what mattered. He kept them from floating away into thefalsity of their personas.

Eliot guessed if there was ever a time for his and Margo’sdynamic to shift, now would be it.

There had been, after all, quite a lot of things going on. Andthey didn’t have anything left to ground them.

He was not exactly eager to discuss any of it, though. How washe doing? Oh, just peachy.

“Well, I don’t know who’s been doing the grocery shoppingaround here, but I’ll be honest, I had to get quite creative with myrecipe. Honestly, what were you people eating? I thought Josh cooked.”

“Josh bakes, mostly,” she replied. “And nice try, Waugh, butI’m not letting you off the hook that easy. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, I’m wonderful, my dear friend. Aren’t you?”

“You’re very convincing.”

“Hm. Thanks.” Eliot glanced over his shoulder to shoot her abright, facetious smile.

“C’mon, El. Everything is fucked. It’d be weird if you werefine.”

She really did sound like she wanted to help.

“So what if I’m not fine? Not like there’s anything we cando about it.” His voice got more bitter with each word. He was quick to angerthese days—something about whatever had happened to him while he was possessed,maybe. Or maybe it was the stage of grief he was lingering in. Either way, healways felt like he was one step away from snapping.

“I’m not fine either. Who says we need to fucking doanything about it?” Margo sighed heavily. “We could just, y’know… Be not finetogether.”

Right. Of course. Like they used to, right? Just gloss overhow fucked up they were, gloss over whatever trauma or pain or grief they werein the midst of, cover it up with affectations and margaritas. It was what theydid, right? It was who they were.

“I don’t think we know how to do that anymore,” Eliot said quietly.

The soup was still simmering. He didn’t really want to eatit. Making soup just felt like something you did when everything was awful. Asthough it was as simple as having a cold.

“Eliot—”

“I love you, Margo, but honestly—” His voice was starting toshake and he hated himself for it.  “Whoare we kidding?”

Margo let out a quiet scoff. “Sure, yeah, making soup atthree in the morning is much healthier way to cope.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss the part where we got good a healthycoping?” Eliot turned a little and offered a smile, as sincerely as hecould manage. “Why don’t we have a drink to celebrate? Or, you know, severaldrinks to celebrate. Who’s counting?”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Margo replied. She leanedforward against the counter, tapping her fingers lightly.

“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Bambi, but there’sreally nothing that can make any of this better.”

“What, you think this is all just for you?” Margoretorted. “Yeah, maybe I think you need some help. A lot of fucking help, if we’rebeing honest. But you know what, so do I. I need you, too, Eliot.”

Eliot wanted to scream. How could anyone need him rightnow? What good could he be to anyone? He was barely holding on, how could he possiblyhelp anyone else? He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t be anyone. Whateverversion of himself anyone needed him to be, he couldn’t do it.

He turned off the flame, moving the pot to an unused burner.From behind him, he heard Margo’s chair scrape back. He watched her reach forthe bowls out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them reacted fast enough tocatch the one that crashed to the ground, breaking into pieces.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Margosnapped at the broken bowl, gesturing at it emphatically. She let out a halfhysterical laughter, rubbing a hand down her face. “You’ve got to bekidding me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Eliot murmured. He didn’t meet hergaze as he reached down, delicately gathering the pieces together.

“No, it’s just—it’s—” Margo huffed. “Fucking hell, Eliot. Wecan’t—”

“Relax, Bambi,” Eliot said coolly. He avoided looking at her.He swallowed hard, straightening back up and ignoring the pain in his abdomen.He put the pieces down gently.

“El—”

He cleared his throat loudly, reaching for the drawer that seemedto be where people shoved things in at random. He was still getting the hang ofwhere everything was in Kady’s apartment. “There’s got to be some superglue inhere somewhere.”

Margo fell silent. The only noise in the room was Eliot rummagingthrough the drawer. It was—well. It was loud.

Eliot’s hands started shaking.

“Where’s the fucking superglue?” he bit out through grittedteeth.

“Eliot,” Margo said, her voice softer.

“God, fuck, do Magicians just not bother buying thebasics? Are we all that dependent on magic? So fucking useless. Christ.”

“El—”

“I mean, honestly—”

“I can do it, it’s okay,” Margo said, putting a hand on Eliot’sarm.

Eliot flinched away. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “Fine.Whatever.”

He grabbed two more bowls down from the cupboard, carefully.He didn’t look as she performed the minor mending spell.

He heard Margo let out a shaky breath as she put the newlyfixed bowl away.

She was right, and he knew she was right. Neither of them wasfine. And really, the only thing they could do was be not fine together.

Eliot braced himself on the counter with both hands, hanginghis head.

“Can I be honest?” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Margo replied.

He gestured theatrically at the pot, sighing with severallayers of affectations attached. “I’m not even hungry.”

There was a beat of silence before Margo started laughing.

“Screw you, Eliot,” she said though her giggles, coveringher mouth with her hand. “God, we really are fucked, aren’t we?”

Eliot sighed, offering her a shrug and a smile. “Let’s behonest. We weren’t built for this.”

Margo managed to pull herself together, shaking her head. Hewatched her squeeze her eyes closed and take an unsteady breath. “Quentin wouldknow how to handle it.”

Eliot’s smile got a little more genuine. He cast his eyesdownward, staring at the kitchen tiles through the blur of his tears. Heremembered how Quentin had fallen apart after Arielle had left—how he’d torn herfavorite shawl when it became clear she wasn’t coming back, how he’d cried intoEliot’s shoulder for hours, how he would shift erratically between moody and inconsolable.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Eliot said softly.

#my fic #the magicians #writing prompt #fic prompt #eliot waugh #margo hanson #Anonymous #the magicians fic

[annelesbonny]

queliot & 12?

#12- things you said when you thought I was asleep

read on ao3!

                                            let there also be hope

“You love me. You love me not. You love me. You love me not.”

Eliot sighs, drops his head against the back of the couch and tries not to think about...things. It’s a little hard to do when “things” is currently sleeping on his bicep, breathing softly into his armpit.

Quentin’s hair is a little longer now, and Eliot is big enough to admit that’s probably due to his own subliminal messaging. What can he say, he likes a little something more to grab on to. Not that there’s been any grabbing going on to speak of, not for awhile now, not since Eliot’s been— back. Honestly, the fact that he’s even getting this, Q slumped over and snoring on his arm, is nothing short of a miracle.

The last nine weeks have been rough, for lack of a better word. Or, a better word isn’t lacking so much as all the appropriate ones are too depressing for Eliot to think about right now, words like ‘agonizing’ or ‘heartbreaking’ or ‘soul-rending’.

More than anything though, it’s just been hard. And it’s hurt, more than he ever imagined it could. The averted eye contact, the poorly stifled flinches, and the fun, careful dance they’ve been engaging in, the one that ensures that Margo or Julia or Alice, even Penny or Kady are in whatever room Quentin’s in if Eliot happens to be there as well. There’s only so much Eliot can do (see: nothing at fucking all ) when it’s his presence, his body that’s the problem in the first place.

He can’t undo the damage done by the monster, but he’ll love Quentin through it anyways.

The apartment is empty now, save for them. Margo is in Fillory with Fen and Josh, Kady’s tits-deep in a hedge rebellion, Alice is in Modesto for some fucking reason, and 23’s sulking after Julia, who’s off somewhere doing demigoddess related activities. So that leaves Eliot, neck growing stiff from the awkward position against the too short couch, and Quentin, who’d somehow how found his way from his earlier position several cushions down to drooling on Eliot’s silk sleeve. He knows he should move Quentin, get him settled on a pillow or something, cover him with that tiny yellow throw he likes so much and take himself out of the room because Quentin’s not conscious to do it himself.

Because one of them has to leave; that’s how the story goes.

But Eliot is a selfish man, and Quentin Coldwater, soft and sweet, asleep on his shoulder is not something he possesses the capacity to resist. He just doesn’t have it in him anymore. The denial and the resisting and the self-sabotage is what got them here in the first place, and while he doesn’t know if he can fix it, or even if there’s anything left to fix, what he does know is that he is far too selfish a man to accept an ending like this.

If the last time he kissed Quentin is a memory, there isn’t a single part left of his heart to break.

“You know, I dreamt of you when I was— when I was gone,” Eliot says softly, speaking more to the ceiling than the man sleeping against his arm. “That’s what it felt like; a dream. A dream about a memory of something else. No wonder I came to with such an atrocious headache. That’s not the point though. The point is. Well.” He laughs a little, and closes his eyes.

“I guess the point is, I love you. And soon I’ll be brave enough to say it to your face. Promise,” he whispers.

Nine weeks and he still hasn’t said it. He’d like to put all the blame on Quentin’s avoidance act, but that isn’t fair. Because Eliot is a selfish man, not a brave one.

“I can pretend to be asleep again if you’d like to practice some more.”

Eliot’s eyes fly open and he sits up so fast Quentin almost falls off the couch. Eliot catches him, of course, but it would have served the fake-sleeping, declaration-hearing traitor right.

“Q, what the hell. ”

His voice drops into an unhappy growl and his face feels hot. Quentin blinks up at him sleepily, face lightly lined from where he’d pressed into Eliot’s side. He still looks more tired than Eliot likes, but there’s a mischievous look in his eyes that’s been missing for so long, bringing back a little of that light Eliot loves so goddamn much, that he wondered if he’d ever really see again.

“Sorry.” Quentin doesn’t sound sorry at all , the unrepentant brat. “You’re just so much more relaxed when, um, you don’t have to look at me or when you think I can’t hear you. But I really was sleeping for most of it.”

Eliot slouches back against the couch, summons his most unconvincing glare. “What did you hear?”

Quentin bites at his bottom lip, cheeks taking on a delightful blush. “Oh. Just, ah, about the dreams and, um, that you— love me, I guess.”

“That was all of it, Quentin!”

Quentin starts to curl in on himself, away from Eliot, which is the last thing in the entire fucking multiverse that he wants at any given time.

“Fuck. Sorry.” He reaches for Q, pathetically grateful when it’s accepted, and he doesn’t think he imagines the soft, little sigh from Quentin as he lays his hand carefully on the junction where neck and shoulder meet. “I’m not mad, Q, I’m— Fuck. How am I so goddamn bad at this.”

It’s not a question, but Quentin answers anyway.

“A lifetime and a half of repression coupled with a shitload of trauma?” He offers with a tiny smile.

“Hey, I thought I did alright at the mosaic.” Eliot feels the need to defend himself at least a little.

“El, we were practically married. We had an actual kid together, and you said that you loved me exactly once over the course of fifty years . ”

Eliot inhales sharply; unfortunately, he knows exactly what moment Quentin’s referring to despite his best efforts to forget.

Q, baby, please. I love you. Come back. You have to come back.

“You never told me you heard that. You were— I thought you were—” Even now, over fifty years and at least one alternate timeline later, Eliot still struggles to say it.

“Dying?” Quentin touches his hand to draw out the sting. “I was sick, not deaf, Eliot. And you practically shouted it in my ear.”

“Yeah, well, I was fucking terrified so,” Eliot says, jaw clenched tight against the memory of Q, death-pale and impossibly small on their bed, caught in the thrall of a vicious Fillorian fever that had already killed at least two people in the village.

Teddy had been beside himself, the memory of Arielle still too fresh in his little boy mind, and he’d clung to Eliot in the early days, refusing to let him out of his sight or beyond his reach. When Quentin had gotten worse, he’d finally broken and allowed Ari’s mother to take him for a few days. It had almost killed him, watching his son have to be carried away from him, almost ten years old and crying desperately for his fathers.

Q  got better, of course, but there’d been a moment before the fever finally broke when Eliot truly thought he wasn’t going to make it, that Quentin was going to leave him alone. He remembers crawling over Q and wrapping his arms around him, adding body heat to the stifling mound of blankets on top of Quentin’s slender, shivering frame. Remembers shoving his face into damp, curling hair and pressing kiss after kiss to the soft skin behind Quentin’s ear, feeling more useless and terrified than he ever had in his entire life.

Q, baby, please. I love you. Come back. You have to come back.

But that was in the past of a life they never got to live. This is the present of the life they’re still figuring out how to live, and in this life, Quentin sighs and looks down at his lap.

“I know. That’s why I never mentioned it then, and why I almost— almost didn’t say anything this time either,” Quentin says quietly, still looking down.

Suddenly, Eliot can’t stand not being able to see his eyes for this so he moves his hand until his fingers are under Quentin’s chin, tilting upwards.

“So, why did you?” Eliot asks.

What made this time different? Tell me what made you brave so I can be it too.

Quentin finally looks at him. “Because I love you. And I— I let it win. The monster. Every time I don’t look at you or flinch away from you or make one of our friends stay in a room if you were already in it, I was letting the monster win. It didn’t want me to love you, Eliot. Hated that I did. It wanted me to give up on you and I think, I think if I’d let you get away with avoiding this again, then I would be. Giving up. Um, so I love you and you— I know you love me too.”

And then, and fucking then, Quentin raises his chin in a clear, familiar challenge and Eliot, well, he’s big enough to admit that he fucking melts.

Because Quentin loves him, he loves him and he’s daring Eliot to love him back, to love him honestly. Eliot’s always enjoyed a good dare.

His thumb strokes the gentle crest of that stubborn chin, watches as Quentin’s beautiful eyes flutter shut for a moment. Eliot leans in until his mouth hovers just over Quentin’s, their breaths the only thing left between them.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. “I love you.”

#official-mermaid #the magicians #queliot #the magicians fic #writing adventures #sorry this took a bit longer than expected!

[quellthefire]

The Magicians women and sefishness: a ted talk

Was talking to a friend about Alice’s character arc and ended up writing this all out: So obviously there’s a lot of parallels between Alice and Julia. There’s a reason Quentin was so hung up on both of them. Both are crazy smart/creative when it comes to dealing with bad situations, and they’re some of the most powerful magicians in the show, but both are crazy self destructive, and often don’t care who gets hurt if it means they have a chance of reaching their goals. Julia’s been on a redemption arc for a while now, and has been making major strides to atone for her actions and is learning to be self-sacrificing and put other s first. And while it’s easy to hate on Alice for being so angry and bitter and selfish, I honestly appreciate that the show portrays different types of female strength within the framework of selfishness:

There’s Julia who did some really fucked up shit because she was completely abandoned and then raped/abused, and she found a way to come back from that darkness, and try to protect others from experiencing the horrors she did. Everyone thought she was being selfish during the Reynard arc, but she was trying to survive and cope and find a way to piece herself back together.

There’s Margo, who spent her whole life acting like she didn’t care about others, save for Eliot, and has to make some really tough decisions as a leader to serve the greater good. And she’s alone in making a lot of those decisions. She knows what she chose was the best decision out of a bunch of shitty options, but a lot of times other people don’t see that and she constantly has to defend the choices she makes to people who were unwilling to make a decision at all.

And then we have Kady, who was manipulated and used for other people’s plans her whole life, and she just wants so badly to be happy and have some goddamn peace. She’d do anything to save Penny, the one person who made her feel normal and ok, and I kinda love seeing her being unapologetically selfish and advocating for her needs this season.

Marina has been a bad bitch this whole time, and pretty much never apologizes for looking out for her own interests. I’m sure that it’s lonely and she hurts deep down, but it’s her armor and she knows she has to be this way to survive ever since Brakebills kicked her out. She’s swindled and conned her way into a comfortable life and I can appreciate that for sure.

And Fen! She spent her whole life preparing to be a docile partner to a husband who may never return to Fillory, and then she realized that her true love is her people. Her purpose becomes protecting the innocent, whether that’s her child, or the Fairies, she is a fierce protector of people who can’t save themselves. But she also stands up for herself at the end of season 3 and protects her own needs.

And finally we have Alice, who grew up with self-absorbed parents who never really wanted her, and she had to fight to find out what happened to her brother, the one person who really loved and cared for her. She sacrificed her life and mind and body to save the universe from the beast, and found a purpose as a niffin, and that utterly changed her. Being ripped from that sense of purpose had to have been excruciating. No wonder she’s pissed and feels like her entire world was taken from her. Even Quentin, who I love to death, basically used her as a way to try to make himself feel better. He believed that loving her would make him whole and fix his issues. And she knew that was too much for him to expect or ask. Alice has made some awful choices, but she’s still trying to protect everyone from the monster, and that shows how much she cares, even if we don’t always see that.

I love how The Magicians lets every female character be selfish. A lot. And yes, the way they sometimes villainize characters for responding to their victimization is shitty and problematic. But there’s so many times we see them being strong and saving the world BECAUSE they choose to be selfish. This show is not perfect, but I love it because each character goes through so much, and they all find inner strength, whether through self-sacrifices or through looking out for their needs. There’s so little portrayal of strong, complicated women in media, and this show has so many amazing women who are fighting tooth and nail for what they believe in.

#the magicians #julia wicker #alice quinn #kady orloff diaz #marina andrieski #fen #womenempowerment #selfish #rant #ted talks #margo hanson

[nancywheelxr]

it’s no better to be safe than sorry (read on AO3)

Penny, in true Penny form, rolls his eyes, stepping aside to impatiently motion them out of the elevator and into a shockingly white room. “Calm down, you guys don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine down here,” he hands them two glasses of what turns out to be an also shockingly good Scotch. “You’re here for Quentin, right?”

“Yeah,” Julia nods, eyeing his suit and tie suspiciously, “are you going to try and stop us?”

It brings a burst of laugh out of Penny. “God, no. Please, take him with you,” he shakes his head, “do you have any idea how much trouble he’s causing here?”

And that brings an almost-smile out of Eliot, because yes, that does sound like him. “Please, do tell.”

* or, first, Eliot grieves. Then, Julia finds a hare-brained solution that's right up their alley. After that, a lot of talking happens. 

Alternatively titled, Eliot and Julia's adventure in the Underworld.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Margo asks because she’s off to the library– the one in Brakebills, lower case, less fascist, less likely to stab them in the back– and Eliot has probably been staring out the window for too long now. It’s been three weeks since Fillory, and it’s been three weeks since Eliot woke up, and it’s been three weeks since– it’s been three weeks, and she’s given up on asking him to join her, on dragging him with her, on leaving her eyeball on the desk, staring at him, daring him to do something stupid.

“Of course,” Eliot says, because yeah, he’s been staring out the window for too long now and she needs an answer and he can’t drink while he’s on pain medication, he knows that. The orange bottle is on her coat’s pocket or maybe on her bedroom and she’ll either be back on time to hand him the pills or send Penny 23 to dutifully stand in her place. “Call me if you find something. I’ll look into some books while you’re gone.”

That’s a lie, a well practiced one that falls off his tongue with ease. It’s the one that convinces Penny to give him an extra pill because today, oh dear, the stitches are hurting to breathe. What’s the point of getting prescription Vicodin if he can’t even get high while he’s at it.  

“El,” her forehead creases, eyebrows knitting together, and Eliot reaches for her, drawing her into a hug because Margo has a whole Kingdom to worry about, she shouldn’t add Eliot to the list. There’s been enough worrying over him. There’s been– Eliot’s fine, or fine enough at least. He wishes he were a better person, a stronger person, the kind that would follow her to the library and help find a way to go back to Fillory in the right time and stop this dethroning business, but while Fillory as a land is alright for him to think, the books– Fillory and Further, El, look, the answers have to be here somewhere, we just have to look– the books are off limits for him.

“Go, Bambi,” he presses a kiss to her hair, and pulls back, smiling the closest thing to a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

She nods, straightening up and visibly pulling herself together. A warrior queen, once again. High King Margo, the Destroyer, he thinks fondly and watches her walk out of the cottage, head held high.

*

The thing about grief is that Eliot is no stranger to it, and yet, it still catches him off guard, even after he mourned enough times, enough things in his Happy Place. How ironically fitting it is that here Eliot is again, in the Physical Cottage, grieving for things he can’t fix and opportunities he can’t change.

“Why did you do it, Q?” He asks the ceiling of his bedroom, “did you want to be a hero? Did you think it would be okay?”

Predictably, he gets no answer, except for the low chatter downstairs and the birds chirping outside.

“It’s not. Okay, I mean,” Eliot continues, imagining the nervous way Quentin would fidget, looking away from Eliot and hiding behind his hair. “Didn’t Margo warn you, Q? Because that was one dumb decision and–” his voice breaks, and it would be embarrassing if there wasn’t already a shit load of things broken with Eliot, “no one likes a dead moron, Q.”

Fleetingly, Eliot thinks of Quentin and Alice’s disastrous seance spell from their first year, so, so long ago, a lifetime ago. He wonders idly who might come through this time, with no more Beast to terrorize them, and he’s in the process of letting it slide off the hazy static floating around his mind when there’s a knock on his door.

Quick, direct, but still gentle. Julia, then.

He waits in silence while she decides if she truly wants to come in, not particularly feeling like talking with her. Nothing personal, truthfully, it’s been a while since he wanted to talk to anyone, really.

His door opens slowly, Julia peeks her head in first before slipping in. “Hey,” she says, holding a cup of water like a white flag and on her cupped hand there are two little white pills. “Painkiller time. How are you feeling?”

A standard question that begs for a standard answer. “Fine,” he shrugs.

“Margo is busy at the library and Penny is busy at, well, the Library,” she explains as if she needs a legitimate reason to be there, as if Eliot might kick her out otherwise.

Julia hands him the pills and the water.

“So you’re on nurse duty,” Eliot surmises, nodding sagely, then swallowing down the Vicodin like a shot and wishing it would leave him half as numb. “There, you can report back to Margo now. Tell her I took my medicine like a good boy.”

The look she gives him is not one of the pitiful, understanding ones, or the confused, accusing ones. It’s clear and dissecting, like she’s peeling away his patchwork, fragile armor he had hurriedly built up after leaving the hospital. “Eliot,” Julia sighs.

“Julia,” he counters.

Her sigh is heavier now, and she closes the door to Eliot’s bedroom, taking a seat beside Eliot, on Eliot’s bed, without asking for permission. She’s a warm weight beside him and the dip of the mattress to accommodate another body is painfully familiar, but Eliot still feels terribly cold.

“I know you loved him,” she says, staring at the wall opposite them, legs crossed at the ankle. “And I know you’re wondering why I’m here. So, that’s why.”

Eliot refuses to look at her, refuses to give away more than she already pieced on her own. He means to be brave, but it’s so much harder when he can’t even remember how to be a full-fledged functional human being anymore. Time is an illusion, like he said two lifetimes ago, nevertheless, he thinks he might need more of it. “Shouldn’t you be consoling the actual widow instead? You know, short, blond, and pretty?”

“Alice is,” Julia searches for words, pulling a complicated face. It’s a journey to watch, half-amusing, really, so he gives in and turns to gaze at her, until she settles into something almost diplomatic. “Diving into work. With the Library. And Kady. However that’s gonna work,” she adds, quieter, then shakes her head. “She’ll be fine.”

“So will I,” he tells her honestly. Or, he hopes it’s honest. He would like to be okay again, someday, maybe. It feels helplessly impossible now, but it’s a nice dream, like Fillory– like a rundown cottage in the forest with a garden of peaches and plums and a mosaic to finish, like Quentin, like being in love, like being happy. Then, something occurs to him. I know you loved him, she had said, and Eliot remembers he’s not the only one who did, who does. “What about you, Julia?”

“I know,” she smiles sadly, patting his knee, and her voice is wobbly and brittle and sounds as cracked as Eliot feels. “I’ll be fine, too. It’s just– I still miss him so much.”

A choked out sob breaks through her clenched jaw, and Julia grips his arm with claw-like fingers, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. Eliot feels oddly empty, watching her overflow like this, as if all the too much– ness that had been weighing him down lately had been drained, taking the stuffing out of him as well. “Do you ever,” he pauses, swallowing thickly his own sob and closing his eyes briefly to steady himself, starts again. “Sometimes, I find myself looking at the door–”

“Expecting him to come home?” Julia guesses, wiping a tear track with the sleeves of her coat. “It’s like I’m still waiting for him to just, I don’t know. Show up here, awkwardly apologizing for making us worry and ready to drag us into another quest.”

“With his ridiculous little smile,” Eliot half-smiles himself, imagining the scene so clearly on his mind like a memory or a dream. “And tripping over the new rug in the living room.”

Julia hiccups a laugh and rests her head on his shoulder, shifting so she’s curled around him more comfortably. They had never been very close, but once upon a time, Eliot had offered her a hand to bring her out of her downward spiral and Julia had the same kind of Monster-flavored guest on her body not too long ago. It’s enough of a bridge to share this loneliness between them– Quentin left a differently shaped void in both of them, but when Julia asks if Q ever told him about that time when we tried to skip class and ended up trapped in the school’s kitchen, and Eliot repays her with did he ever tell you about the time when he accidentally saved a talking cow– it feels a tiny bit less empty.

*

After that afternoon, Julia turns up in the cottage enough times that Eliot now is privy to an assortment of sort-of secrets that he’s not sure what to do with. He now knows Alice and Kady are working with the Library, capital L, allegedly ex-fascist organization, and the situation between the Hedges is not looking so good. He is not to talk about that too much, it’s all very delicate. Julia can do some magic, but not all kinds and it’s just as screwed up as the rest of magic around the world. He is also not to talk about that, see, Penny 23 is the only other who knows.

Eliot, for some reason, finds that keeping these secrets is easier than he thought it would be, but he figures he’s got a lot of empty space within himself to hide them in.

And it’s not like they are actual secrets. They’re just sort of secrets, so if Margo hears bits and pieces of them, definitely not enough for her to figure out the big picture, only for her to send him odd looks, half concerned, half confused, before shaking her head and kissing his cheek, it’s okay.

It becomes almost a routine and Eliot finds a calming blanket on that. He knows what to expect and he feels less like he’s drifting at sea, no land in sight. There’s peace in habit and it’s during one of her visits that he finds hope too.

“Eliot,” she says, dragging him upstairs and closing the door behind them. Her eyes are alight with a wild gleam and Eliot is forcefully reminded that she used to be a goddess. “I think– I have an idea.”

She doesn’t have to elaborate further for him to understand the fine writing in between the lines. About Quentin, on how to fix this, to bring him back.

His own heart kicks up the dust and cobwebs to drum in his ribcage as he takes in a ragged breath. “Tell me,” he orders, pulling the last shreds of himself together.

“Back when we were looking for the keys, Josh and I, we found one of them in timeline 23, right?”

“Yes, no need for the recap, I was there for the first time,” he waves her off, impatiently gesturing her to hurry up and get to the point.

Julia nods, grinning. “Yeah, so. Quentin had,” she hesitates so briefly, stumbling over the word nearly imperceptibly, “died there too. But Alice23 brought him back.”

It takes a moment for what she’s saying sink in. Quentin dies in the other timelines, that was a given, they all do, Penny23 and Marina23 are proof, and Eliot had heard Julia and Josh recounting their adventure at the time in all of its creepy glory. But for the first time since the keys, since the Monster, since, he shifts the emphasis from the key and the Beast to–

Alice23 brought him back.

“You can’t tell Penny,” is the first thing he says, because one of the sort-of secrets is that Julia and Penny23 are having a thing and Eliot won’t have her little love affair stop them from saving Quentin.

“I know,” Julia nods back, decided and giddy and spilling her relieved excitement all over the place. She pulls him into a hug and wraps her arms around his torso, burying her face on his chest. It reminds him a bit of Margo, in the early days after the hospital, when he still had a cane. “We’re going to get him back– Eliot, we’re gonna get him back.”

Something warm and light and syrupy bubbles up on his chest, filling in the blank spots around his lungs, under his ribcage– with a start, Eliot realizes what it is. Hope. Because this plan is absolutely crazy and desperate and insanely dangerous, but it’s a plan.

It’s enough.

“We will, darling,” he whispers into her hair, his tears falling unprompted. It’s an unspoken decision that this will be another one of their sort of secrets, that they need to hash out a few more details beyond it’s our only idea before telling people. They don’t need their friends throwing an intervention, gently guiding them away from what they would call stupid, grief-induced plans.

Sure, Eliot will be the first to admit it might be a terrible, insane plan that did not work all that well in the 23rd timeline, but in his experiences, it’s exactly the kind of Hail Mary they’ve pulled off over the years.

*

“Wanna run that by me again?” Margo asks, eyebrows raised impressively high as she looks between Eliot and Julia. Then, her forehead creases in that worried frown of hers, “you two are up to something.”

“Of course not, Bambi,” Eliot reassures her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the cottage front door. “I’m merely helping our cause. Julia is now the closest thing to a Fillory nerd we have,” he tells her in a stage-whisper, and a piece of his heart falls to the floor but he barely notices it. None of it will matter once Quentin is back. “Go look in the dusty library. We will get Julia’s books in her old apartment. The doctor said fresh air might do me some good, anyway.”

Margo pins him with a suspicious look, glancing behind his shoulder to narrow her eyes at Julia. Then, her shoulders sag and she sighs. “You know what, fine. You’re out of bed, you showered, and now you’re back to scheming– in my book, that’s progress, baby,” she smiles fleetingly, relieved beyond belief, before steeling herself and pointing a finger in their general direction. “But whatever this is, it better not come bite us in the ass, hear me?” To Julia, she adds, “and you better return him in pristine condition, or I’ll fuck you up, alright? Sorrow and Sorrow are still in my bedroom and they work just fine to cut a bitch,” she exhales, adjusts her clothes, “and please, make sure he eats something.”

With that, Margo is gone, hurrying through the campus to get to the library.

“Well, she’s still terrifying,” Julia comments, lips quirking up amusedly.

“Yes, the axes do suit her, don’t you think?” Eliot can hear himself softening as he watches Margo disappear in the crowd of students. God, he had missed her. A part of him feels guilty for keeping this from her, but Eliot knows he wouldn’t have been able to bear if she had looked at him again with wide eyes brimming with teary understanding that had felt so much like pity. He’ll tell her as soon as they get solid proof it can be done. “What shall we tell your Penny, when he comes in?”

Julia scrunches up her nose. “He’s not my Penny,” and oh, the lady doth protests too much? “But I told him we needed to talk with Alice about the Fillory situation.”

A sting of pain echoes on his chest as Eliot thinks of Fen, alone and dethroned, but he can only help one dead friend at a time. After they get Quentin back, after the world is once again right in its axis, then they will save Fen and Josh and Fillory. Would you look at that, Q, another noble quest for you to tag along.

“Sounds mildly believable,” he graciously allows, just in time for Penny23 to pop into existence in the middle of the living room without warning. “Why, do make yourself at home.”

Penny ignores Eliot, making a beeline to Julia, fussing over her in a way that Eliot has to look away; it reminds him a bit too much of a time when he had been the one searching for his own little nerd and checking him over for any injuries. Perhaps, staying in Brakebills might have been a mistake. Perhaps, Margo was right, a place with fewer memories would have been preferable.

“Eliot?”

Julia’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts and both she and Penny are looking at him like it was not the first time she had called his name. Oh well. Spacing out is hardly the worst of his attitude lately. “Are we finally getting a move on?”

“Yeah,” Penny drawls, studying him for a drawn-out minute and sounding like he’s been talking about Eliot. With Margo, most likely, and Julia, although he expects the latter to have been more skittish about the topic recently. “Are you sure you’re alright, man? I mean, the whole possession thing must take a toll, right? And with–”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” Eliot cuts him off before Penny could say something ridiculous like– something Penny hasn’t the slightest idea of what he’s talking about. “Now, if you would be so kind?”

He raises one eyebrow, waiting for Penny to take Julia’s hand and offer him the other, one last warning look sent his way, and then the world blurs as they travel to the Library and hope talking with Alice, their Alice, isn’t a mistake.

*

The Library is under renovations.

It should not come as such a surprise, Eliot thinks in hindsight. With both Alice and Kady in charge of things, some fundamental changes were bound to come. Though he’ll admit he had expected them to be more philosophical than literal, he won’t complain about the new color palette.

Grey is terribly dull.

“Are you insane?” Alice hisses, her glasses glinting off the artificial light, and she looks beautifully sad. Melancholy has always suited her, Eliot supposes, even in the early days of their little ragtag family. “Look, I miss him too, you know I do, but this is too crazy, even for us.”

She pushes away from the desk, her new Head Librarian desk on her new Head Librarian office– no, sorry. Co-Head Librarian. Julia trades a warning look with Eliot, her patented don’t be a dick look, and steps closer to Alice approaching her like she’s an injured animal. “I know how it sounds,” Julia begins, choosing her words carefully. “But think about it. We already know what went wrong in the 23rd timeline. We can do it right this time, here.”

Her arms are wrapped around herself like Alice needs to physically shield herself from this conversation. She shakes her head several times, purses her lips. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

“Help us save Quentin?” Eliot can’t help prodding. It’s not fair, he knows, but it still irks him that she’s not jumping at the chance to get him back.

“You know it’s not that easy,” Alice glares, softening after barely a minute. Her grief seems to sharpen and dust off her edges in random intervals, and ever since the bonfire, what had once driven a wedge between them now makes her reach for Eliot with a shared sense of understanding. “You can’t just go to the Underworld branch and bring a soul back– and even if you could, you,” she points to Julia, “told us he became the Beast when I– when that Alice did it. Can you imagine what that would mean with magic the way it is now?”

“Then let’s make sure we bring his shade back,” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stop pretending it’s easy!” She finally snaps, and Julia quickly slips between them, hands in front of her chest, but Eliot isn’t done.

This is their best shot at saving Quentin and they already took a big leap of faith in telling Alice about it. He hasn’t even told Margo. “Listen,” he says, walking around Julia to place his hands on Alice’s shoulders. “When you were a niffin,” at that, her eyes widen and she tries to move away, so Eliot holds her there tighter. “When you were a niffin, he stopped at nothing to bring you back whether you wanted to or not. When Julia was shadeless, he did his best to help her and never gave up on her, no matter what. And when the Monster possessed me,” he trails off. They all know how that turned out.

“So who cares if it’s not easy,” Julia joins him, giving him a sympathetic look, “it’s Q. We can’t give up on him now.”

Alice purses her lips, but something about the way she sighs, deflating under his hands, tells Eliot she’s giving in. “Even if we did bring his soul back,” she caves, averting her gaze and adjusting her glasses, “he would still need a body.”

“A golem?” Eliot suggests. It’s not a very good solution, but he knows from first-hand experience that you can’t feel the difference. And it certainly beats death. Alice, though, twitches in that awkward way of hers. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“When Penny died,” she confesses, “I tried to make him a new body. With Osseus Confervium.”

“Bone-knitting?” Julia’s eyebrows rise.

“Yes,” Alice nods earnestly, apparently warming up to the idea. “It’s difficult, but you said it yourself– who cares, it’s Q. And with magic overflowing like this, it’s probably the best time to do it.”

Eliot smiles something so close to a smile, he even surprises himself. “So it’s settled then,” he says, uncharacteristically optimistic, “all we have to do is make a new body and break Q out of the Underworld. Sounds like a regular Wednesday, no?”

*

As it turns out, bone-knitting is even harder than what they had expected, even after Alice had admitted failing to make Penny a body. It’s a long, drawn-out process and they take turns working the spell, unwilling to stop the process.

“You know,” Margo says, her fingers weaving smoothly over the ever-growing skeleton. Never let it be said this spell isn’t creepy as fuck. “When I said you should get a hobby, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Eliot huffs a laugh, his brow still furrowed in concentration, but he has to admit relief is there too because he hears the it’s okay, I get it, in between her words. And she really does, especially now with Josh long gone in Fillory, he supposes. “Then what did you have in mind, Bambi? Golf? Jogging? Book club, perhaps?”

Thank you, he hopes she hears.

The brilliant smile she gives him, relieved and hopeful, tells him she did. Margo snorts, and it feels almost like back to normal. “Like half of our problems didn’t come from those goddamn books.”

*

Is this brave enough already, Q?

*

It takes them two weeks to get the body ready and it takes Eliot until the body bag is zipped all the way up for him to breathe again. Seeing Quentin like that, so still and unmoving– a shudder wracks his body. It’s disturbing and wrong and Eliot can’t understand how Alice and Julia can pick it up without throwing up on the carpet.

No longer depending on modern medicine, he takes a swing from his flask, lets the alcohol soothe the shaking of his fingers.

“Let the record show, I think this is shitty ass plan,” Penny23 scowls from where he’s leaning against the wall of the cottage. For the last two weeks, he had refused to help, needlessly reminding them of what happened in his timeline as if they didn’t already know. As if Julia hadn’t already told every little detail about the pathetic state Alice23 had been, how it all went to shit. They all know the risks.

More importantly, they all know Quentin.

“Yeah, we heard you the first twenty times,” Margo glares; the shadows under her eyes, the ones so deep and pronounced her makeup can’t quite cover, betray her worry, though.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, fiddling jittery with the bracelets on his wrist. “If this goes sideways– like it probably will– I’m killing the motherfucker before he can go all psycho this time.”

Before Eliot could do anything, Margo takes his hand, holding it tight enough to hurt, to pin him in place. It’s not worth it, she means.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Kady do the same with Alice and oh, okay, interesting.

“Can we just go?” Julia asks, sounding hurt and weary. Her hands shake as she drags them across her face. “The sooner we do this, the better our odds.”

Penny steps away, his reluctance reminding everyone that he’s only doing this because Julia is asking, because Julia had been torn apart by– she’s been hurting as much as Eliot, as much as Alice. He holds out his hand to her and Julia reaches for Eliot and Margo while Alice grabs Penny’s other hand, taking Kady with her. Quentin’s new body is a heavy weight between them.

Traveling to the Library makes his stomach churn as always and everyone gasps, blinking to get their bearings inside Kady and Alice’s brand new office. “Okay,” Kady recovers first, marching to her desk to root inside her drawer. “Everyone knows the plan?”

“You and blondie over here keep the Librarians from reading our books out there while these two Orpheus the shit out this,” Margo’s summary is a pretty accurate one and her satisfied smirk as she caresses her axes is so Margo, a rush of fondness washes over Eliot. “I and Mr.Sunshine will keep guard, just in case.”

Kady produces two small bottles from her drawer, throwing them to Eliot and Julia, the bright red liquid sloshing inside. She nods at them, giving Alice a meaningful look before slipping out the door. “Right. The potion will stop your hearts and all brain activity for exactly an hour. Your bodies will be in stasis until it kickstarts again,” Alice explains, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear, “it should give you enough time to look for him in the Underworld, but you have to be back in the elevator before time runs out or you’ll be stuck out of your bodies forever.”

He trades a look with Julia. She nods. “Well, this is encouraging and all,” he says, exhaling heavily, “but we’ll be fine.”

Alice hesitates, biting her lip. “I would go with you guys, but,” she trails off, looking helplessly at the door.

“You and Kady are our best shot at keeping them in the dark,” Julia finishes, smiling knowingly, “we know.”

The door closes quietly behind her as Alice hurries out of the room.

And with that, there’s no more delaying it.

It’s now or never.

Eliot turns to Margo, finds her already watching him with worried eyes in a display of vulnerability she rarely ever shows, much less in front of other people like this. Although, Julia and Penny do seem to be completely lost in each other. “Hey, don’t cock out on me now,” he says softly, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “it’ll be fine. We’ll be back home before you notice, making that martini you love and most likely hearing about some other fastly approaching apocalypse.”

She slaps his shoulder, laughing quietly and involuntarily. “Don’t go around stealing my lines. Asshole.” She pokes his chest, trying to go for a threatening expression. “And you’d better make it back, hear me? We didn’t just get you back for you to disappear on me again, alright?”

“Of course,” he does his best to smile back, gently cradling her face to press a kiss to her forehead. “See you in an hour, Bambi.”

At his left, Julia moves, uncorking her bottle, and Eliot does the same. They knock it back like a shot and between a blink and the next, the world stays dark.

*

Dull, cheerful elevator music is playing when Eliot opens his eyes again and it takes him a second to recognize that he is, in fact, in an elevator. Another second, and Julia blinks beside him. “Fuck,” he breathes, “we’re dead.”

“Still hate this song,” she mutters, rolling her shoulders and readying herself into a fighting stance, and Eliot wonders if he should do the same. Between the two of them, he’s the one with reliable magic, after all. Not battle magic, but still.

With a loud ding! the doors slide open and–

“Hey, welcome to the– oh, thank fuck.”

“Penny?” Eliot stops short, lowering his hands, and beside him, he sees Julia do the same. “Penny 40, I assume?” Then, quieter, he whispers to Julia, “should we have made him a body too?”

“I don’t know,” she whispers back, eyes glued to Penny in front of them, “is this a double rescue now?”

Penny, in true Penny form, rolls his eyes, stepping aside to impatiently motion them out of the elevator and into a shockingly white room. “Calm down, you guys don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine down here,” he hands them two glasses of what turns out to be an also shockingly good Scotch. “You’re here for Quentin, right?”

“Yeah,” Julia nods, eyeing his suit and tie suspiciously, “are you going to try and stop us?”

It brings a burst of laugh out of Penny. “God, no. Please, take him with you,” he shakes his head, “do you have any idea how much trouble he’s causing here?”

And that brings an almost-smile out of Eliot, because yes, that does sound like him. “Please, do tell.”

“Since I left him at the station, he escaped security at least ten times,” Penny does tell them, “he refuses to board the train and move on, and since dead people don’t have books, he’s getting real good at evading security.”

Julia grins. “That’s Q,” she bites her lip, visibly relieved they won’t have to convince him to come with them. Or worse, Eliot realizes. “So you’re gonna help us?”

“I could get in trouble for this,” Penny admits, looking around as if he’s afraid librarians might step out of non-existent shadows, “but fuck it, follow me.”

The Underworld branch is weird, Eliot decides as soon as they go through a door that definitely had not been there before and end up in what looks like a perfectly ordinary parking lot, except for the inexplicable door in the middle of it. “That’s where he first went through,” he explains, handing them two brightly colored in blue metro cards, “this is as far as I can go, but I’ll keep the portal open for as long as I can while you look for him.”

“Thank you,” Eliot says sincerely, tilts his head, “you know, you are surprisingly nicer here. Is it a death thing?”

Penny laughs, shaking his head. “Why does everyone say that?” He claps Eliot in the back, makes a shooing motion, “yeah, it’s a death thing. Now go, before someone realizes we’re not supposed to be here.”

Once again, they go out of the blue and into the dark.

*

The door leads them into a metro station, busy bustling with people. They pass through them in a daze, and Eliot watches them enter fill in the wagons, not once looking back. A few seem to be sniffling, others openly crying, but most walk calmly away, letting the train carry them through the dark tunnels.

“It certainly smells like a subway,” Eliot comments, scanning their surrounds. Above, robotic voice filters through the speakers, announcing another train would be leaving the station shortly. “Points for realism, I suppose. Although, I could really do without the piss.”

Julia purses her lips, her fingers curling around Eliot’s wrist with white knuckles. “Don’t get lost,” she warns, frowning soberly at the crowds stumbling over them. “There’s something off about these people and it’ll be hard enough to find one person here.”

Eliot blanches. From what he can tell this place stretches for miles in both directions, with trains coming and going non stop and no ending in sight. There could be hundreds, thousands of souls here if this is where everyone goes when they die. And if Quentin is already hiding, it’ll be impossible to find him in half an hour.

Unless–

“Maybe we don’t have to find him,” he smirks, hope igniting in a flickering flame on his chest.

Following his gaze, Julia looks up at the sound system hooked on the ceiling. She grins. “Maybe he can find us.”

He offers her his arm with a flourish. “Shall we follow the wiring?”

“Yes,” she links their arms, tugging him forward, “let’s.”

*

For once in their godforsaken lives, things go slightly according to plan and the small broadcasting cabin is blessedly empty. The security is most likely still chasing after Quentin, then. Or, Eliot hopes they are, anything else could mean a scenario he doesn’t want to think of.

They didn’t come all the way here just to drown a few feet from the shore.

“Do you think this will work?” Julia asks, looking up from where she’s ripping cords and cables and replugging them in different exits. It looks random to Eliot, who has no idea where to even start, his degree has never been anywhere near technology, but he hopes she knows what she’s doing and the lost little shadow on her eyes is simply a case of the what ifs. What if Quentin is gone? What if he doesn’t hear us? What if it’s too late? What if he doesn’t want to come back? “Hey, try saying something on that,” she points at the microphone closest to him.

“It will work,” he reassures her, sounding way more confident than he truly feels, but considering anything else would render Eliot unable to carry on this rescue. He has to believe it’ll work or the weight of this world will be too crushing otherwise. “Hello? Good night– or good morning, I can’t tell, it doesn’t matter– listeners, this is your host for the duration of my stay in this truly dreadful place,” the speakers screech with static in the beginning, distorting his voice, but after Julia changes yet another bright blue wire, it runs smoothly, echoing around the station.

She crowds into his space, pushing him aside none too gently to hog the mic. “Q, if you’re listening,” Julia grips the receiver tightly, her tone tinged with a desperation she had been previously keeping at bay, “we’re here, just follow the wires– we have a plan, we’re bringing you back, Q.”

Since this isn’t a cell phone, there’s no reply beyond a few static hissing, and in the silence that follows, Eliot can hear his own heart drumming up a circus in his chest. “Q,” he says, hesitating briefly and clearing his throat. “You have to hurry, we don’t have long now,” the watch on his wrist ticks on mercilessly, counting down to their deadline. “And I was hoping to get another fifty years with you.”

Julia squeezes his shoulders, unplugging the microphone and gently setting it aside. “Now we wait,” she says quietly, “he’ll find us.”

“Do you know,” Eliot can’t help asking, not when they're so close to making or breaking it, not when she’s politely averting her gaze from the way his eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Do you think he knew?”

Did he die thinking I didn’t love him back?

“I– he wondered. I think he didn’t not know,” Julia answers hesitantly.

The answer is yes, then.

They fall silent after that, tension and anxiety humming in the air like a tightrope ready to snap, and if Quentin doesn’t make it to them in the next fifteen minutes, there won’t be time to go back to the elevator in time, and Margo would kill him if Eliot gets lost outside his body and it’s not fair of him to make her worry like this again, not after all she went through in the past year and all she sacrificed to get him back.

Eliot wants more than anything to stay and wait forever if that’s what it takes, but he owes it to Margo to survive at the very least.

“Five minutes,” warns Julia, glancing at her own watch.

Neither of them moves.

Then–

The door bursts open, slamming hard into the wall, and Quentin dashes inside, hurriedly locking it behind him, and–

Quentin leans against the metal door, panting. His black hoodie stands out in stark contrast with the light blue paint–

Quentin looks up, his eyes– impossibly dark, melted chocolate eyes– find Eliot and he smiles– beautiful, and shy, and happy, and heart-stopping– and Eliot stops breathing, stops thinking, stops–

Quentin smiles, says, “hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” someone with Eliot’s voice speaks, except it can’t be Eliot because Eliot’s mind is still in a loop–

Quentin, Quentin, Quentin–

“Q,” is all Julia gasps before flinging herself at Quentin, clinging to him as if she’s afraid he might disappear if she lets go even an inch, as if her life depends on it, as if the world is ending and this is all there is.

In the meantime, Eliot looks away and tries to remember how to breathe.

She finally pulls away and she’s crying, but that’s fine, Quentin is crying too, and Quentin is still ridiculously mesmerizing, even if his hair is shorter now, too short for him to hide behind it, and the artificial lights are framing his silhouette in a way that reminds Eliot of a priest preaching about angels a long time ago in a dusty town surrounded by corn fields, and this time Eliot agrees– it’s all terrifyingly beautiful.

“Hey,” Quentin says again, takes a step closer, pauses. His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for Eliot but isn’t sure if he’s allowed and Eliot wants to say he’ll give Quentin whatever he asks for, it’s all his already anyway, it always has been.

So instead, he thinks show, don’t tell, and crosses the space left between them and draws him in a hug, marveling at how easily Quentin fits against him. They curve around each other– Quentin buries his face on Eliot’s neck and Eliot cries quietly into Quentin’s hair, and arms wrap around waists with a familiarity that comes from fifty years of muscle memory. “It’s really you,” Quentin murmurs, half in awe, half in disbelief, and entirely in longing. “I missed you so much, El.”

“No more than I have missed you,” Eliot whispers back, feeling for the first time like his chest isn’t collapsing into itself, like he’s one breath away from toppling down like a house of cards. “Q,” he says helplessly, “Q.”

The letter falls heavily from his lips, packed with so many more words, it dissipates in the air like cigarette smoke, the kind that he could shape into anything at all– a dragon, a ship, a heart, a cottage in the woods, a little boy laughing in the backyard, two people growing old.

Julia chokes on a laugh, hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry guys,” she blinks back tears, wiping her cheek, “we gotta go.”

Quentin pulls away, and takes Eliot’s hand. “I’m ready,” he says, sounding like means it, and smiles, “lead the way, Jules.”

*

The walk back to Penny is a giant blank space in Eliot’s memory.

He’s too distracted with how solid, how warm, how alive Quentin feels to pay attention while Julia explains their plan. Everything feels like a dream and Eliot is too scared to pinch himself to check, isn’t sure he wants to know the truth, because does it even matter if it feels this real?

They might have been chased by security, they might have run for their lives, Eliot might have thrown someone in the rails and Julia might have cracked someone’s skull against a light blue concrete wall, Penny might have said something about thank fuck, you little shit, do you know how much of a pain you’ve been? to Quentin, but it all happens from a distance– for a second, Eliot almost worries he’s slipping back to the Happy Place, but Quentin’s hand is still warm and sweaty and clinging desperately to Eliot’s to the point of his fingernails breaking skin in tiny half-moon shapes, so it must still be Eliot at the wheel.

It’s only when the elevator’s doors are sliding closed and the godawful song starts chiming again that it dawns on him.

They did it.

“We did it,” Julia exhales, breathlessly and giddy, hugging Quentin again, and they’re both laughing and jumping together in a mess of limbs. “Q, we did it!”

Eliot lets them celebrate with an amused half smile, an overwhelming wave of fondness rushing unbridled inside his ribcage.

Idly, he notices Quentin has let go of his hand. Then, the world goes dark and the music abruptly cuts out–

– and Eliot sits up, gasping for air, heaving in a breath like a man drowning at sea.

“Oh, thank god,” Margo gathers him in her arms, and from behind her shoulder, he sees that Julia is already on her feet, leaning heavily against her Penny, and oh, Quentin is holding Alice like a lifeline, or maybe Alice is holding Quentin, it’s hard to tell with how entwined they are, but yes, that checks. Margo draws back to glare at him, shakily fussing over his hair. “Always had to make a fucking entrance, didn’t you?”

“I thought you appreciated being fashionably late,” he teases, hoping to balance himself in their usual banter. I’m here, I’m alright, he means.

“I’d appreciate you not giving me a heart attack every other week,” she shoots back, helping him up gently, and her hand stays firmly at his back even after his knees no longer threaten to give out.

“Just to check,” Eliot calls out, waiting until Quentin disentangle himself from Alice and look back at him. “Before Penny 23 here decides to undo all of our hard work, do you happen to feel any murderous urge? An irrational liking to moths?”

Quentin scrunches up his nose in his adorable puppy way, and Eliot’s traitorous heart skips a beat obediently in response. “No? I– should I? I mean, I’m hungry, I could definitely eat, but– not moths?”

It works to loosen up the room, as if the building itself had been holding its breath and now it’s suddenly let go. Julia and Alice chuckle softly, wetly, and even Penny rolls his eyes, looking less like he might be hiding a knife behind his back.

“Hey,” Quentin continues, shaking off his confusion to beam down at his hands, “my arm is not made of wood anymore– nice.”

*

In the days that follow, not a lot happens.

Except for a lot of serious conversations, it seems.

Having Quentin dying on them, sacrificing himself like a goddamn martyr, like he never heard of live to fight another day, may have kicked them all with a sort of urgency to resolve their unfinished business.

Because their group of sort-of patchwork family has never been particularly good at talking things out but have always excelled at sneaking around, Eliot never quite catches these talks, only glimpses.

He sees Quentin helping Margo clean her axes one afternoon, talking in low voices, but their eyes are suspiciously shiny and Quentin’s hands shake as he wipes a cloth over an already pristine patch of iron.

There’s a morning, Eliot wakes up to the smell of eggs and bacon and when he enters Marina’s kitchen, Quentin and Penny are silently having breakfast.

That same night, Julia asks Quentin to teach her a card trick, but when Eliot walks past her bedroom later before going to sleep himself, the sounding of crying is unmistakable. He doesn’t know which one of them is sobbing, but the next day, they trade a hopeful smile over coffee, the it really is going to be okay kind.

Then, it’s suddenly Eliot’s turn.

“We’re ordering pizza,” he says, knocking on the open door and leaning against it. Quentin looks up from where he’s sprawled on the bed, drops his phone on his chest. “I have been tasked to find out which topping you would like. Please,” he holds up a hand, “before you decide, do take into consideration that there is a wrong answer.”

“Are you threatening to kick me out of Marina’s flat if I ask for pineapple on my pizza?” Quentin snorts, raising one eyebrow.

“It’s technically Kady’s apartment now, she already paid this month’s rent to the Babayaga downstairs,” Eliot informs him mildly. “But yes, absolutely.”

“You know,” he sits up properly, his phone falling to the side and nearly to the floor. The expression on Quentin’s face is so softly amused, Eliot’s chest aches. “That would’ve been more threatening if you hadn’t just broken into the Underworld to rescue me.”

Eliot finds that sighing theatrically is better than overthink the sentence in his head. Be brave, he thinks. Be brave, even if it’s scary, even if it hurts, be brave, you promised. “You got me. I love you, but that still doesn’t mean I’ll allow that crime against humanity inside this apartment.”

A pin-dropping silence blankets the room. Quentin’s eyes are wide and dark, and if the curtains had been open, Eliot is sure the whole night sky could have reflected off them. “Did you just– I mean–”

“Q,” Eliot deflates, ignoring the urge to flee from this, from the chance– from the possibility– and sits at the edge of the bed, carefully keeping a good distance between them. Quentin could still cross it, could still cover Eliot’s hand in the mattress with his own if he wanted. He doesn’t, though, and Eliot tries not to be disappointed. “I love you. I thought– I hoped you knew by now, but in case you don’t, there. I love you.”

“But, I mean,” he blinks, forehead creasing in his confusion and he runs a hand through his hair, just like old times. “That day, in the throne room–”

“I was scared,” Eliot admits, the words rushing out of him like a bursting balloon, “and I thought not knowing was better than having and then losing.”

Quentin pauses. “That sounds familiar– is that a poem?”

“Sort of, it kind of goes the other way around.”

“Sorry, that doesn’t matter,” Quentin shakes his head as if he could physically disperse his thoughts. They tend to get tangled in his head, Eliot had noticed. “I– so when you said– back when you broke out of the Monster for a minute, and then at the metro station– you really meant it?”

“Yes,” he simply says, “but I’m not expecting anything from you, don’t worry your pretty little head. I just– I’m trying this new thing, being brave, so I promised myself I would tell you. You deserve to know the whole truth.”

You deserve to have the chance to choose, he doesn’t say.

“Eliot,” Quentin breathes, and for a second it looks like he’s leaning forward, but there’s a knock on the door and it startles them even further apart.

It’s Penny, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world except here. “Hey, huh,” he clears his throat, “Margo’s asking what you guys want? She’s on the phone with the pizza place and, well. We need an answer.”

“I’m fine with anything, thanks,” Quentin stumbles out his reply, still looking caught like a deer in headlights.

So Eliot shoves his feelings into the back of his mind and pulls himself together, getting to his feet. “I should go relay the message,” he says, smoothing out his clothes, “someone should stop her from scaring away the delivery guy.”

He forces himself to leave the run in a sedated pace, and he never looks back.

*

After that, Eliot pours himself into helping Margo find her way back to her Fillory, tearing through books like he never did in his time at Brakebills. They raid Marina’s library and camp out on her living room, and only when it’s late at night, when everyone else is asleep, when it’s only him and Margo and the low light from the candles– only then he lets her hug him and spills the aching sadness that had pooled where his heart used to be.

To be honest, it’s neither better nor worse. If anything, the only change is that he sees even less of Alice. She leaves them for the Library more often than not, Kady defiantly in tow, so Eliot figures she knows.

And Quentin– he avoids Eliot, or perhaps Eliot avoids Quentin, or they avoid each other, or there’s no avoiding, there’s only Eliot losing himself in his research and Quentin taking his time to process things. Either way, it takes him three days and two hours before he seeks Eliot out.

“Can we talk?” Quentin asks, fidgeting in the threshold of Marina’s library, and Margo kicks Eliot hard under the desk.

So he nods, wincing at how loud his chair screeches when he pushes it back, away from the table.

“Look,” he says, closing the door to his room beside them. Quentin looks decided, serious, nervous. “A lot of shit happened since the last time I saw you. I mean, you you, and I– things got kind of twisted at the end, I was in a really bad place, and then in the Mirror World, I thought– I don’t know– wait, hey, did you know I figured out my discipline?” No, Eliot had not known. “Yeah, Mayakovsky told me. Minor Mendings.”

“That’s great, Q,” Eliot smiles honestly, “it really suits you.”

Quentin grins back, wide and brilliant before huffing. “Thanks. Anyway, that wasn’t– what I’m trying to say is, dying puts a lot of things in perspective, I guess? No, that’s no right. It’s just, after Penny gave me that metro card and I was suddenly there, at that station, and I was supposed to fucking move on– I realized I didn’t want to. There was so much shit I still wanted to do, that I wanted to say, and I had never even gotten to talk to you after the Monster was gone, and I– all I wanted was to come back, to take it back.”

“Yeah? Penny said you caused a lot of trouble down there,” he says slowly, studying Quentin’s face, trying to decipher the look on his eyes. It seemed familiar, but Eliot couldn’t quite place a name.

“Yeah, they really didn’t like that,” Quentin shakes his head, “but it didn’t matter, because I knew– El, I knew you would come for me. Do you know why?”

“Why, Q?” Eliot asks, feeling his heart suddenly clawing its way up his throat.

“Because if it was the other way around,” he says, smiling, and takes a step closer, then another, and another, until there are only a few inches between them and Eliot can count his lashes, each of the freckles he got from walking in the park with Julia every afternoon since coming back, “that’s what I would do. I guess, what I’m really trying to say, is that I love you too.”

Time stops and the world spins out of control as Eliot lets these words sink in, wondering if this is a dream, if he’s still in the Happy Place– how can it be real?

But Quentin is smiling up at him softly and his hands are tugging Eliot down, burying in his hair, and then they’re kissing and it has to be real because none of Eliot’s dreams have ever felt this good.

“What about Alice?” Eliot has to ask, pulling away to breathe in oxygen into his aching lungs, and waits to see if his heart is going to be handed back to him battered and bruised in a silver plate.

“Broke up a week ago, get on with the program,” is all Quentin laughs, breathlessly against Eliot’s lips, and Eliot is more than happy to swallow the sound and the moan that follows.

There’s still so much to do– they have to find a way to save Fen and Josh, and the Library isn’t happy with them for stealing Q back from the Underworld, and magic is still haywire, and the situation with the Hedges is precarious at best, and there’s a lot of shit to talk about, therapy possibly, but. Quentin loves him and Eliot is terrified but there’s strength in numbers and look at all the things they already survived.

For tonight, they kiss and it tastes like peaches and plums, and a cottage in the woods, and a golden tile. It tastes like magic and it tastes like stars, and Eliot knows, whatever happens from here on out, they’ll be alright.

#the magicians #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #queliot #the magicians fix it #alice quinn #julia wicker #penny 23 #margo hanson #god the finale destroyed me #so here it is my coping method #fix it fic #i guess i go here now

[takaraphoenix]

Season 4 Finale Fix-It Fic: Who Tells Your Story

Quentin blinked, feeling very disoriented. What had happened...? There was something vague, in the back of his mind. Screams and something... He looked around wondrously. He didn't know where he was, but he had the feeling that this wasn't where he had last been.

"Quentin Coldwater. Welcome to the underworld."

Ah. That was it. That was the thing that kept escaping him. He had died. Everett had interrupted them in the mirror world, he had been too startled to destroy the monster in time and then things exploded. Had he done it? Had he saved his friends?

"Your friends are alright", assured the man with the very pleasant voice.

Quentin tilted his head and looked at him. "Who... are you?"

"I'm Hades. King of the underworld."

"Oh", nodded Quentin, frowning a bit.

He was still very disoriented and his thoughts were swirling too fast for him to even grasp them. Hades gently guided him to sit down. Odd. Well, wasn't that just his life? Odd.

"You died killing the monster for good", stated Hades and leaned back in his own seat, hands crossed on his lap. "You have a choice now."

"Choice?", echoed Quentin.

His tongue felt heavy with all of the questions on his mind. What with his friends? Were they alright? Truly alright? Magic. The library still kept magic limited. What about Fillory? And his mother. He was dead. She had just lost his father, even if they had been divorced. And Eliot. Eliot.

"You died a hero's death", explained Hades, offering Quentin a card – a ticket. "You earned the privilege to move on to Elysium. An honor reserved to truly good people."

"So I... did something brave? I didn't just... finally find a way to kill myself?"

The look Hades offered him was not quite amused. "You earned this, your death was a hero's death. However, I have a choice to offer you. You slayed the monster that killed my wife, so I personally owe you a debt of gratitude. Elysium will still be there when you die at an old age. What I am offering you is something I only very rarely hand out. A get out of the underworld free card."

Quentin blinked and turned his ticket around once, to find it changed into a white card, with the small symbol of Pluto in one corner and elegant writing reading get out of the underworld free. Very... direct. But in his current state, Quentin kind of appreciated that.

"You are a hero, Quentin Coldwater", stated Hades slowly. "And I think that your destiny has not yet been fulfilled. There are many things left for you to do. People are waiting for you."

Quentin frowned at that. "Really?"

He hadn't truly felt like that lately. He felt like since the quest for the seven keys, he had grown apart from the others. Eliot had been... possessed. He hadn't seen actual Eliot since the castle at the end of the world. Everyone else had been so busy with their own drama and their own quests and Quentin had kind of been stuck babysitting the monster. Which had hurt. Because it had Eliot's face and... everything that had happened between him and Eliot and everything that hadn't happened between him and Eliot and he was just so confused.

A large part of him had wished for Margo, wished to sit down together and talk. Or even to go with her and try to help, but Margo had been in Fillory and with Fen and Josh, working on ways to bring back Eliot, without him.

Penny 23 was still very much a stranger to Quentin and he seemed too engrossed in some kind of love-triangle or something with Kady and Julia. Kady, well, Quentin had never been close to.

Julia had been there, but not... Well, she had enough on her own mind, huh? She had no time to sit there and listen to Quentin telling her about the conflicting feelings he had for Eliot and for this situation with the monster, or to talk about how incredibly betrayed he had felt by Alice, or how much the death of his father affected him.

And Alice, Alice was still so complicated. For the most part, he had kept his distance to her. Though they had managed to rekindle their friendship, to a certain capacity, it was still... awkward.

Who was there? Who really... needed him? He had barely gotten anything important to do this time.

He had been who brought them all together, he had been the one with the knowledge about Fillory, he had been a king of Fillory for a while. He had held them together during their quest for the seven keys and somehow, he had thought that after that, things could be different.

Part of him had thought that after that, him and Eliot could live in Fillory, together as kings – they were still kings, weren't they, even if Margo was High King, had been High King? There had always been four rulers in Fillory. The life they had shared together just weighed too heavy on him, the memories of decades spend with Eliot. They had raised a child – his child – together. And being hit by this life, this... happiness... he thought maybe he could have it now too. Maybe, after this monster was slayed, he could actually have this... living out his life with someone who made him happy, with someone who supported him even when he wasn't happy.

But Eliot had rejected him and then Eliot had been possessed and now Quentin was... dead. But Eliot had said – well he had been rather out of it and only temporarily in control – he had talked about peaches though? He had talked like he wanted that too, wanted to try. And now they couldn't even try because Quentin was dead.

Strange. For so many years, he had contemplated what it would be like to be dead. Had wished to be dead too. And now that he actually was dead, he found himself oddly... hung up on life.

"Can I give you a piece of advise?", asked Hades.

Right. Quentin wasn't alone. He was in the underworld, with the king of the underworld. Unreal.

"...Yes, I'd appreciate that", nodded Quentin slowly.

"I just lost my wife. The love of my life", stated Hades. "And when a god dies, there is no afterlife. I will never see her again. If you think you have even the faintest chance to find love in life, you should choose life, because death will always be there to wait for you."

Death will always be there to wait for you. Huh. That was probably right. He would, if he went back to life now, die again and be here again and he could still move on then.

"There are just... so many things, so many questions I still have", admitted Quentin. "Julia, she lost her magic and her godhood – she is my best friend, my oldest friend, I can't leave her like that. And Alice, she probably feels guilty about my death. Margo. And... And... Eliot."

"So you have made your choice then", stated Hades with an amused looking smile.

/break\

Quentin smiled, though it was a reluctant expression as he sat next to Julia, his legs drawn up. She had cried, when he had approached her. Then she had hugged him. And then cried some more. After she was done crying, she had shown him the card-trick – had shown him that she apparently still had her magic somehow. So here he was... maybe useless after all.

"I just thought, I had to come back to help you deal with losing your magic", whispered Quentin.

"Guess I'm like a... magical cockroach, huh? Can't be killed, not even my magic can", replied Julia and tilted her head. "I suppose I'm back on my quest to regain my godhood then."

"Need help with that?", asked Quentin, resting his chin on his knees.

The smile on Julia's lips was warm and the look in her eyes was understanding – like she understood more than Quentin, which was probably true. "I think you should... you should follow your own path for a change, Q. You were so helpful for everyone, keeping everyone together, putting everything else before yourself. I think it's time for you to be selfish, Q. You were so excited to find Fillory and I know, I know it disappointed you – but maybe it's up to you to make it what it should be, what you wanted it to be. You're still a king of Fillory, aren't you?"

"I... don't know", hummed Quentin thoughtfully. "Maybe? I was barely at the castle during our reign anyway and then we were overthrown by Tick and Margo got elected High King, but now she's banished too... honestly, I have no idea what my place in Fillory even would be."

"Then maybe you should go and find out", suggested Julia, nudging him gently. "After your... After we said goodbye to you, we parted ways. Margo and Eliot went to Fillory, you know. To find out if Margo could get unbanished and I think Eliot is just looking for some... distance."

Quentin hummed at that and turned to look away, stare up at the moon. "He's been through a lot. Being possessed by the monster. Does he... remember what the monster did?"

"No. He was inside a mind-palace, he says", replied Julia and shook her head. "It was traumatic, but for the most part he was... safe in there, safe from the monster. That's what I overheard at least. Him and me, we were never close, so he didn't tell me much. But he... I think what truly hit him, even more than the possession, was losing you. He was so devastated, Q."

"Mh", grunted Quentin, pressing his lips flat together.

Maybe. Eliot had seemed so excited, like he wanted something – anything. Him.

/break\

He found Margo and Eliot in their cottage. Somehow, it was surreal for Quentin to be here now. He hadn't really been here in a while. He... still hadn't graduated. All he had wanted was to study at Brakebills but somehow, classes and a degree had just... slipped away from him.

"I just can't believe he's gone, Bambi."

"I know", whispered Margo back, holding onto Eliot.

Quentin just stood there for a moment. He still felt rather disconnected from his new body – thank you, Hades – but also if he was being honest with his emotions. Too much had happened. There was so much to feel and he just... didn't even know where to begin to feel.

"I couldn't even actually tell him anything", sobbed Eliot into Margo's arms.

Feeling too much like he was eavesdropping, Quentin stepped into the room, making enough noise to draw their attention. "Uh... Hello? Or, what do you say in this situation...? I'm... back?"

"Q... Quentin?"

Both Margo and Eliot looked up at him, shock written all over their features as they took him in like he was a ghost. Which, admittedly, he was to them. They knew he had died. He had died.

"Turns out Hades wasn't a big fan of the monster, what with him killing Hades' wife and all, so he expressed his gratitude by... giving me a second chance?", offered Quentin in explanation.

"Don't play with me", warned Eliot, voice shaky as he pointed a finger at Quentin. "If you're just a-a hallucination, or some... magic trick, or something, I am in no state for that."

"I'm me. The real me. I'm... back. For good. Or, well, until the next time I die. Which, hopefully, will be quite some in the future", replied Quentin, lifting both hands up. "I'm real, Eliot. I'm not a hallucination or anything. I'm back. And hey – it's not like I'm the first of us to survive dying."

He cracked the smallest grin, less out of humor and more out of a strange sense of giddiness. Eliot was right there. The real, actual Eliot. Eliot, in the flesh, with his mind. The past months with monster – with this evil creature posing as Eliot. But this one was the real one. Quentin could see it in his eyes, in the way he carried himself, could hear it in his voice.

"Eliot", whispered Quentin, voice soft. "I'm here. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

They walked toward each other slowly, on shaking legs. Eliot's hand was shaking as it reached out for Quentin's face, carefully cupping his cheek. Tears were still running down Eliot's cheeks as he touched Quentin. And then, the next moment, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Quentin, hugging him like he never wanted to let go again.

"You didn't give up on me", whispered Eliot into Quentin's neck. "Bambi told me. They wanted to give up on me but you kept pushing and believing and... I wouldn't be here without you. And when I woke up, I thought... but you weren't there and you died. You died like that and I never could tell you—thank you, for not giving up on me, for fighting for me."

All Quentin could do was nod and pull Eliot closer to him. And in that moment, he was glad to be alive. Feeling Eliot against him, his warmth, his everything, after all those months of trying to get Eliot back. He couldn't imagine being anywhere but here. How could he have chosen to move on when there was so much left unsaid and undone? There was so much more he had to do.

"I... heard you guys want to go back to Fillory?", asked Quentin, voice muffled by Eliot's shoulder as he was still being hugged like he would dissolve if Eliot let go. "Got room for one more?"

"Of course, Q", offered Margo gently, standing next to them and looking torn.

She wasn't big on emotions and she felt like intruding on this moment – but this was Q. She knew she had been very focused on Fillory and on bringing Eliot back, but out of everyone on this fucking quest, after Eliot, Quentin had mattered the most to her. The three of them, they had been through a lot and it had brought them all closer. Beyond the high-as-a-kite threesome. Quentin turned toward her with what was the most watery smile she had ever seen before he pulled her into the hug with them and regardless of how strong she was and how much she could contain her emotions, in that moment she didn't want to. Q was alive.

"Let's go to Fillory together and fuck that bitch up", laughed Margo, feeling drunk on relief.

/break\

Quentin had gone and talked to Alice too before they left, before they packed up. Yes, they could go back to getting their degree – but somehow, they had moved past that. And out of everyone from their group, the three of them had been the most drawn toward Fillory. Quentin knew that was where his path lead. What Julia had said to him was true. Fillory was meant to be something different, he had dreamed of something different – so it was up to him to make it something different. They had gone to rule this country multiple times at this point, but as soon as they were in power, some quest had thrown them off and they had never actually managed to do anything.

This was it though. This was the end of the line. The Beast had thrown them into a chain-reaction, he was followed by Reynard, then they had killed a god and had to fix magic, the quest of the seven keys, the monster at the end of the world – but this was it. Ending that one had not pushed over the next pillar to fall. They had done it, they had finally finished their quest.

They could now actually change Fillory. Make it better. Make it the place Quentin always had dreamed of living at. He turned a little to look at Eliot and Quentin next to him and grinned.

"What? What's with that look, Q?", asked Eliot confused.

"We make quite the Golden Trio", chuckled Quentin.

"I'm clearly the badass sidekick. So that must make Eliot the love-interest", stated Margo.

It made Eliot stumble and Margo snort in amusement. She rolled her eyes and made a show of walking ahead, giving Eliot and Quentin some space. They had not quite yet... talked. They had talked and packed and left together, but not quite talked about what... mattered.

"I was a coward", stated Eliot, decidedly looking ahead and not at Quentin. "When you... When we... The life we had. It was too much, when I started remembering it. You know me, I'm a party boy. I rarely do serious relationships and the last I had ended in a bloody murder after my boyfriend got possessed. And that life – that life we had – it was so... domestic and... normal. It was... scary. Because it was more than I ever thought I'd have. You and me and our... son. And when you asked me to give us a try, it felt like you were asking me to give you all of that and I knew I couldn't."

"I didn't...", started Quentin with a frown. "I didn't mean to ask for all of that. I asked for you."

"I know. I know that now. But back then? It was too much and too scary and I was a coward, afraid of my own feelings. But then... everything happened. While the monster... I thought a lot about myself, I reevaluated my life-choices, the worst of me, the best of me. And I thought of what I wanted and I want... you. I want you, Q. That's all I want. Just... you. Whatever that entails. And when I came out of it all, all I wanted was to... run to you and to tell you, but you were dead. And suddenly, I realized just how much I want you. How much I... love you."

Quentin's eyes widened as he turned to look at Eliot. Eliot had finally given up on avoiding him and was staring him dead in the eyes. He looked genuine – serious. When they had first gotten together, in the other timeline, it had just... happened, on its own. This? This was Eliot, consciously taking the first step toward Quentin, admitting what he wanted. Now, it was on Quentin to take the next. He took that literally, stepping up to Eliot and reaching up to pull Eliot into a tentative, soft kiss.

"Fucking finally", groaned Margo in the background.

/break\

They were a strange, royal family. High King Fen, her husband Eliot, his husband Quentin. On the other side, High King Fen's wife Margo and her husband Josh. Fillory and its strange marital laws had made that possible. And while in his position as the husband of the husband of the High King (and oh, the irony of that, considering Fen had simply been a girl promised to a king at the beginning of her story), Quentin didn't have a proper ruling role. He still aided as an adviser. And, in a way, everything was as it ought to be. Between Eliot, Quentin, Margo and Josh, there were four children of Earth ruling Fillory, at the side of their High King. They did it, they managed to actually help the people of Fillory, make Fillory a better place – even though it took them years to fix.

And along the way, Quentin had found his own calling. The author of his childhood had disappointed him, but sent him on a quest. So Quentin wanted to do better, be better. He spent a lot of his time at the castle writing. Writing the books of their story. The Beast in the Book, The Goddess in Green, The Creature in the Castle. A best-selling trilogy on Earth, to tell their story, and very popular among Fillorians too. He spent a lot of time on the ship – the flying ship that had made him so happy and euphoric when he had first entered it. Just flying through and exploring all of Fillory with his husband, writing down their adventures. And if they were needed, the others would simply send them a bunny and Eliot and Quentin would return to the palace.

But mainly, they were living on the fly, wherever they wanted to be, exploring, enjoying life. Being happy together and with what they had made of their life. That was their story.

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3!

#Queliot #The Magicians #Margo Hanson #Eliot Waugh #Quentin Coldwater #Julia Wicker #Fanfiction #Fix-It Fic #Hurt/Comfort #HAPPY ENDING #HAPPY FOR THEM ALL #BEYOND THE SHIP #BECAUSE Q GENERALLY DESERVED BETTER

[amphtaminedreams]

Cannes Film Festival 2019: Best Dressed

Forget the Met Gala everyone, real ones know that the Cannes Film Festival is the fashion event of the year! In part because it lasts for 12 whole days so there’s more content to sit there in my pyjamas analysing but also because it’s way less hyped up and thus less likely to leave you disappointed, a fate I’ve now resigned myself to with the Met. For almost 2 weeks, the richest, most out of touch people in the world spend their days looking pretty on a red carpet and judging films; I should be grossed out, but it’s more a case of just wishing I was there. So I present to you a collection of my favourite looks! 

Winnie Harlow (left), in Jean Paul Gaultier here, was one of my stand outs this year. Yes, I remember her from America’s Next Top Model and yes, I’m going to blame the edit, because LOOK AT THAT FUCKING STANCE. I’m in awe. This is my favourite look of hers this year (mostly because of this particular moment) but it’s the first of a few I’m going to bang on about. On the right is Priyanka Chopra in Georges Hobeika, complemented by the walking accessory that is Nick Jonas.

Priyanka and Nick’s daytime looks were beautiful too (left), and if you’re not paying attention to the Cannes daytime looks YOU SHOULD. Stefanie Giesinger (right)’s outfit is sleek and crisp and effortless and everything I want to emulate but also a lot more accessible than the average red carpet look.

Similarly, here we have Izabel Goulart (left), Caroline Daur (both of the middle looks), and Chloe Sevigny (right), out and about in Cannes all looking elegant (I mentally pronounced that RuPaul saying eloquent) as fuck. I imagine a lot of these pieces cost more individually than I will ever have collectively in my bank account at one time, but there you go. I imagine they could be replicated for a lot less.

But, let’s go back to the red carpet so we can talk about Winnie Harlow again, lmao. I desperately want to know who her stylist is because her Richard Quinn dress (far left) complements her skin tone perfectly AND the accessories are PERFECT, which I’m impressed by because I feel celebrity stylists often tend to go over the top in that regard. Winnie’s Ralph and Russo look (far right) also flawed me; @ mystery stylist, I bow down. Elsa Hosk reminded us all that gloves can be subtle and looked as ethereal as ever in a white, puff sleeved Redemption dress (second to right) and the things I would do for Maya Henry’s Ralph and Russo dress (second to left) are unholy.

Of course Georges Hobeika, Zuhair Murad and Gimabattista Valli (invented the phrase Holy Trinity) dresses made an appearance, and I internally weeped as saving photos of them to my phone is the closest I’ll probably ever get to owning one. Left to right here we have Ana Beatriz Barros in Hobeika, Valery Kaufman in Zuhair Murad, Bianca Brandolini d’Adda in Giambattista Valli x H&M (more on that in a minute), and Shanina Shaik in Georges Hobeika too.

See, it was a good day for the Giambattista Valli x H&M collaboration because Kendall Jenner (far left) wore one of the dresses too, and it was probably her most iconic Cannes moment, not counting those photos of her and Bella Hadid laughing in rich on that yacht. Ultimate Victoria’s Secret model (trash company but it has given us some goddesses, let’s be real) Adriana Lima also looked phenomenal in Ester Abner, and Natasha Poly (second to left) and Josephine Skriver (far right) were born to wear Atelier Versace and Alberta Ferretti, clearly. The shade of Josephine’s lipstick is a beautiful touch.

Honestly, these were my initial 3 favourite looks of the whole festival. I’m a simple girl, I’ll pretty much lay down my life for anything blue or tulle, so obviously, Alina Baikova in Zuhair Murad (left) is one of my favourites. For the same reason, minus the blue part, I adore Araya Hargate’s Ralph and Russo dress, and CAN WE TALK ABOUT ELLE FANNING (right)!? The poor girl feinted after one of her red carpets and we could have a whole conversation about how fucked up it is that a sample size was so tight on a very slim woman that it caused her to lose consciousness, but for now, I’m just going to commend her for her services to fashion because it’s almost 1am and I need to get some bloody sleep. Regardless, the finishing touch of the flowers in the hair make this my favourite of Elle’s Cannes looks, and the dress is by Valentino.

More red carpet stand outs were, from left to right, Pixie Lott (yes, I didn’t know she was still doing her thing either but power to her, despite the fact Mama Do plays approximately 73 times a day at my work) in Yanina Couture, Madison Headrick in Ashi Studio Spring 2019 Haute Couture, and Michelle Rodriguez in Rami Kadi.

Farhana Bodi’s (far left) was stunning in a cobalt Atelier Zuhra gown, as were Hina Khan in Ziad Nakad (second to left) and Chris Lee in Gucci (far right). I kind of live for witnessing a lavender pixie cut a la vegan, marxist twitter on a stuffy red carpet, and I will also take a reprieve from this breakneck speed to congratulate DJ Kiddy Smile (second from right) for doing what Harry Styles should’ve at the Met. This is spitting in the face of toxic masculinity, men, not wearing a sheer blouse; your endless supply of pink suits can’t save you from our criticisms forever (I like Harry Styles, this is a joke, please no one hurt me).

Next we have, from left to right, Diana Penty in Nedo by Nedret Taciroglu, Elle Fanning again stepping on all our necks in Dior, and on the far right, Eva Longoria in Alberta Ferretti. Now, 3 things: firstly, I stupidly saved the 3rd photo without including a note of who she is or who her dress is by and so if anybody happens to read this and knows, HELP A GIRL OUT. Secondly, I still stan Eva Longoria for playing Gabby Solis in Desperate Housewives which is the most slept on show amongst millennials and I wanted to use this opportunity to make a passionate PSA and say EVERYONE WATCH IT so references from it (”Rex cries when he ejaculates” anyone?) can become part of our cultural zeitgeist again. Finally, Elle fucking Fanning, can you let us breathe, please? This old Hollywood inspired Dior look is so simple but probably one of my favourite looks from the whole festival because who knew it was possible to simultaneously look so glamorous and yet also so soft? It’s timeless.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Taylor Hill makes the best dressed list twice. Obviously, she could wear a bin bag and look beautiful, but her stylist knows just how to elevate the whole angelic, other worldly being thing she has going on, and she was stunning in Ines Di Santo (left) and Fendi (middle) at the Rocketman premiere. Bella Hadid brought the same divine energy in a white, tulle Dior dress (far right).

Another one of Elle Fanning’s flawless Cannes moments was courtesy of Gucci (far left). On its own, I don’t think this dress would catch my attention as much as it did BUT the cape detailing with the red lipstick and the hair pulled back makes this outfit a stand out for me. To Elle’s right are Natalia Vodianova in Atelier Versace (second from the left), and Lea Seydoux (second from right) and Stacy Martin (far right) both in Louis Vuitton.

I’m gonna take a small break from Elle Fanning to fangirl over Guan Xiao Tong in Atelier Versace (far left). The quality of the photo I saved wouldn’t be out of place on 13 year old me’s HTC phone but I also think nothing captures how beautiful the structure of Guan Xiao’s dress was better than a semi aerial shot, and the same goes for Sririta Jensen in Michael Cinco (far right). Now back to admiring Elle Fanning, in Ryan Lo (second from left) and Vivienne Westwood (second from right).

Her daytime looks are just as good. Elle wears Marc Jacobs on the left, Miu Miu on the far right, and I have no bloody idea on the middle. If you’re reading this and you know, HMU. I promise, it’s not me being lazy; Elle.com doesn’t know either.

To go back to red carpet looks, I loved Izabel Goulart in Valentino Couture (left) looking like she just killed her husband, Dracula, after a domestic that resulted from her draining the blood of his afternoon snacks (I’m coming for your gig, Stephenie Meyer). Coco Rocha looked incredible in Elie Saab (middle); I’m surprised this was the only one of her dresses that stood out to me this year because I really like her designs. God knows I have spent far too long imagining myself in one. Lastly in this photoset, there’s Leomie Anderson in Rami Kadi (right) and, like, WOW.

Now, I’m going to whizz through these last few photosets. First is Sara Sampaio in Armani, then Alina Baikova in Zuhair Murad, Charlotte Gainsbourg in Christian Dior Haute Couture, and finally Sui He on the far right. I’m not sure who she’s wearing and Harper’s Bazaar and reverse image search is giving me dust so as always, if you’re reading and you know, hmu.

From left to right here: Stella Maxwell in Atelier Versace, Martha Hunt in Monique L’Huillier, Gayle Rankin in Delpozo and Dua Lipa in Valentino.

L-R: Madison Beer in Georges Hobeika (STUNNING, and I just read on Twitter that there was a gun pulled out at one of her concerts which is insane, and how has it become so commonplace in the states that something like that doesn’t make headline news?), Chloe Sevigny (again, I stan) in Miu Miu, and Hailey Clauson in Ralph and Russo.

L-R: Elle Fanning in Reem Acra (another fucking beautiful cape!), Elsa Hosk in Alberta Ferretti (Cannes 2019 has been GREAT advertisement for Alberta and power to her, am I right?), Jasmine Tookes in Zuhair Murad (I have LOVED this dress ever since its runway debut and there are few human beings out there who would do it more justice than Jasmine), and finally Araya Hargate again in Atelier Versace.

To finish, Eva Longoria’s sleek all camel day look is more of Alberta Ferretti doing what she does best, high fashion Twitter darling Sasha Luss’s dress is couture Chanel, and so is Margot Robbie’s. It’s the delicate touch of the plaits that I love with Margot’s look and Eva looks radiant, and both are a final reminder NOT TO SLEEP ON CANNES’ DAYTIME FASHION.

All in all, Cannes produced just as many extortionately expensive fairy princess looks as ever and, as always, I lived for it. I love dark, grungy fashion but still, the little girl in me can’t beat feathers, satin and sequins; there’s no event better suited for vicariously living out my French vanilla fantasy. 

It also brings together two of my favourite things in life: films and fashion. Call me a basic bitch, but I’m very excited for Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (though I am conflicted about whether to see it in cinemas considering I just found out Leonard DiCaprio has known his current girlfriend since SHE WAS 11, like, what the fuck?), Portrait of a Lady on Fire sounds incredible, and I plan on seeing Rocketman this week.

If you read all this post all the way to the end, I hope you enjoyed it!

Lauren x

#fashion #cannes #cannesfilmfestival #elle fanning #cannes film festival #margot robbie #sasha luss #Elsa hosk #jasmine tookes #dior #Alberta ferretti #Zuhair murad #chanel #Georges hobeika #Ralph and russo #Chloe sevigny #Madison beer #miumiu #miu miu #Stella maxwell #valentino #giambattista valli