Hello!
If you're not too busy, would you mind listing some of the things you think count as death flags for Mr. Spender?
There's the obvious fact that he's the "old" mentor to group of young protagonists, but what else do you think would count?
OHH BOY ok so I'd think I'm a crackpot for this but since we're talking about Zack "Foreshadowing" Morrison. I have some thoughts
No harm in leading with the (chronologically) first thing that jumped out at me:
This one IMMEDIATELY made me antsy whenever I came back to it after my initial read, and considering Zack has referred to it on twitter in the past as one of their favorite jokes it's definitely not been forgotten about.
Second, the sheer amounts of near-misses, jokey or not, of Spender narrowly avoiding specifically lightning
Again, not much, but it's weird that it happened thrice, latter two of which had real gravitas rather than an one-off joke.
And third, Spender himself. He's repeatedly shown himself to be kind of a self sacrificing idiot, as well as prideful to a fault. Granted, it's both him and Mina trying to take on all the responsibility of saving Mayview and its inhabitants from their fate..
But Spender is exactly that right measure of doesn't-value-himself-enough (chest footprint aftercare or lack thereof), having an obscene amount of power (enables his loner act + pride) and poor judgement that has the capacity to put him at great risk. And it has!
Spender has not only shown low enough self-esteem to view himself as the de-facto scapegoat for the safety of the town, but also prideful enough to make very bad calls that end up in people, often himself, hurt (COUGH FORGE INCIDENT COUGH)
This is all conjecture, but it's definitely enough to make me worried about him :') Even if all this doesn't mean he'll necessarily die he's definitely getting (even more) seriously injured at some point. I love the guy but he's so far doing a horrible job of convincing me he wants to live bad enough to circumvent at least that
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on the rocks sneak peak ii: wip weds edition
on the rocks | kinn/porsche/tay | wip, snippet ~950 words
Tay’s trying to drow his sorrows when he meets an attractive apparently-straight bartender who fills him with want -- and then things get complicated.
Chay enters the kitchen a few minutes after Porsche has started cooking, eyes wide and curious as he watches Tay. Tay smiles at him.
Chay doesn’t smile back. He keeps watching Tay, quietly taking the seat furthest from him. It places him between Tay and his brother, his back to Porsche.
Porsche glances over his shoulder from where he’s stirring a pot on the stove. “Did you get your assignment printed?” he asks.
Chay’s eyes flick off Tay momentarily. “It’s in my bag.”
“Are you okay to walk to school today? I have to drop Tay at Yok’s.”
“P’Tay?”
“My guest.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can walk.”
“Text me when you get there safely.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not trying to be a nag, Chay, it’s just with Uncle Thee out—”
“I said okay, hia.”
This is—this is the worst thing to happen to Tay in a long time. It’s—domestic, and sweet, and comfortable, and doing absolutely nothing to help Tay move past his building attraction to Porsche.
Because, what—Porsche worked a shift at a bar until closing time, wrestled a drunk man onto his couch, caught a few hours sleep, and then hauled his body out of bed to help his little brother print his homework and make him breakfast before school?
Tay never thought the barefoot-in-the-kitchen thing would do it for him until this very moment, when he’s realising it’s doing everything for him.
Something is placed on the table in front of him, jolting Tay out of his thoughts. It’s a steaming bowl of congee, with two poached eggs and a heaping of scallions sprinkled over the top. It smells delicious.
Tay looks up at Porsche, who’s already dropping into the chair next to his brother, bowls of congee in front of them.
Tay dips his spoon in, and mechanically raises it to his mouth. It scalds his tongue, but he swallows it nonetheless.
“Good?”
Tay makes himself smile. “Good.”
He’s not doing this. He can’t. He is not getting his feelings bent out of shape by a straight boy. It doesn’t matter if he’s a good brother. It doesn’t matter if he cooks. Tay is not going to pine after the bartender he spilled his most humiliating secrets to. He is not doing this when he knows damn well he’s going to have to turn around and go right back to Time.
It’s—already far too messy, to be sat here with Porsche, eating breakfast. Porsche was meant to be a contained fantasy – a momentary wondering, geographically confined to a bar Tay was never going to go back to. Something he could attribute to his own drunken stupidity.
Tay doesn’t want to have to live with Porsche in his head, a potentiality lost, and spend the next decade of his life trying to make Time come out on top.
It makes the congee turn to sludge in his mouth. Tay lowers his spoon, and tries not to let his feelings show on his face.
“—to my parent-teacher evening?” Chay’s asking. Tay’s missed the beginning of the conversation.
Porsche frowns. “I thought we agreed Uncle Thee would go to that.”
“Teacher Ot isn’t going to be there, this time. His wife just had a baby.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble for you at school,” Porsche says. “Your teachers prefer to deal with Uncle. A lot of them still remember teaching me. They get weird about it.”
Chay looks down at his bowl, spoon hovering above it. “It’s—it’s okay if you can’t come,” he says. “Or if you don’t want to. It’s just—do we even know if Uncle Thee’s going to show up?”
“I’ll talk to him. He’s just—busy, with work, and things.”
“Sure.”
“Chay.”
Chay looks up from his bowl, and meets eyes with Tay. He looks away. “Sorry,” he says. “Let’s talk about this later.”
Porsche’s eyes flick over to Tay as well. “Okay,” he agrees easily. “Later.”
Conversation stalls.
Tay looks down at his congee and forces himself to concentrate on eating.
Eventually, Chay pushes his chair back. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.”
Tay watches him leave. “I’m sorry,” he says to Porsche, once Chay is gone. “I didn’t want to disrupt your morning.”
Porsche starts gathering up the crockery from breakfast. “It’s fine,” he says. “Chay’s just a bit shy. I don’t usually bring people home he doesn’t know.” He carries the saucepan, and their bowls to the sink. “He was meant to be sleeping over at a friend’s last night, but he came back early to work on an essay. No offence, but I probably wouldn’t have brought you home if I’d known he was here.”
“None taken.”
“Once he’s left, we can head off to Yok’s,” Porsche says. “You’re fine if we take my motorcycle, right?”
Tay very carefully does not think about Porsche on a motorcycle, and even more carefully does not consider himself behind him, curled around him. “Sure.”
Porsche pauses, hesitating. “Tay,” he says. “About last night—”
But the ending of that sentence is cut off by a loud buzzing sound.
Tay frowns. “Is that—”
“Doorbell,” Porsche says. He shifts around Tay’s frame to peer out the kitchen window. Whatever he sees on the driveway outside the house makes him frown. “Shit.”
Tay turns to look, but Porsche catches his wrist.
“Do me a favour?” Porsche asks, with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Could you go upstairs to Chay’s room, and tell him Uncle Thee’s friends have come by for a visit? He’ll know what to do.”
Something’s wrong. Tay goes to turn once more, but Porsche tugs him back.
“Please?” Porsche presses.
Tay takes one look at his face and then crumbles. He goes.
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