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agentravensong · 6 months

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hello, fellow hatchetfield fans! here are my stray nerdy prudes must die thoughts, which i'm going to try to keep brief (she said, before spending an hour writing this)

the production level of the show as a whole really blew me away. the lighting; demon!max's costume and makeup; even the way it was shot and edited felt even more electric than past shows

this is the only one of the full-length hatchetfield musicals to have one consistent antagonist throughout (black friday has linda but half the leads don't know about her at all until the climax, plus there's wilbur and wiggly). and i gotta say, max's actor really killed it. hilarious, terrifying, and even with moments of nuance. he repeatedly stole the show.

some of the songs are already stuck in my head. off the top of my head i can't think of any that stood out in a bad/unmemorable way (though i could just be forgetting them, lol). ruth's song in particular i think is gonna really stick with me once i listen to it a few more times.

and i love the way the "i'm not a loser" motif gets used throughout the show. the closest any of the songs got me to having the visceral reaction i have to "did you know that i wanted to live with you" in "not your seed" and the bridge + ending of "let it out" ("i've never been happy...") was when richie sings that line right before... well.

speaking of richie: as a paul stan, what this show proved to me more than anything is that when jon matteson plays a sympathetic lead (or side character - hi daniel/stopwatch), he will always break my heart. he's just. really good.

thinking about how in the last of the originally planned 3 hatchetfield shows, initially conceptualized as the first, jon's character is the first one to sing, whereas in the first of those shows, conceptualized as the last, the whole crux of the musical is him refusing to sing, the audience essentially waiting for the moment he breaks and does it. thinking about how the opening of npmd tells us richie is going to die, already dying, already dead, while the opening number of tgwdlm tells us paul is the target, the Doomed Hero, the "star of the show" "destined to go viral" [read: get infected], whose story is going to be told, already written.

thinking about how singing dooms paul, and how richie singing "i'm not a loser", reigniting max's ire, is the final nail in his coffin.

...i'm normal.

there's a lot of meta jokes and nods of that sort throughout the show. maybe a few too many? like, at a certain point, as a fan, i do feel like i'm being pandered to a bit.

i liked the lords in black's scene, it was a lot of fun! it's always great to see jon get to let loose with crazy characters, and the others were great too. but i do wonder how it plays for people who haven't been following nightmare time stuff. like, i get that in one world this was our introduction to these characters, but even in that world, i wonder if including all five of them with their specific names and allusions to their individual deals is a bit too much for what the plot of this show needs. there's something to be said for not showing all your cards right away.

on the other hand, i feel like the paulkins coffee scene actually fully earned its inclusion: because when pete comes in asking for his hot chocolate, it reads differently when we're coming at it from having followed his perspective up to this point versus having been following paul in tgwdlm, in a way that strengthens both scenes. it's a nice reminder that emma and paul can be... rude, i guess. assholes, even (she really didn't need to spit in it). that idea of perspectives affecting how we categorize people arguably even plays into the themes of this show! how about that.

ah, yes, Themes. there are Themes to be drawn out of this show about the experience of high school, especially in an intertextual comparison to how tom and becky talk about their time in high school in black friday. something about how the two of them see it as this idealistic time they want to go back to, whereas the teens (the nerds/outcasts) in npmd sing that they'll "still despise it when [they're] gone". something about how in ruth's solo number, the fantasy future she imagines for herself (even in the context of it being a performance for an audience of no one) is of a standard, arguably dreary, middle-aged existence. there's definitely stuff there to be dissected.

and also there's arguably a theme of continuing cycles of cruelty, brought into focus by the ending, but also implied with the way the adults failed the kids (see max referencing his dad belittling him).

...but also, i feel like they could have done more with that.

that's my one big thing with this show, and it could very easily just be that the genre of this show isn't as much my jam, but i'll say it anyway: i wanted more from the characters, and more emotional weight in regards to certain things.

like, between this and tgwdlm, i think tgwdlm is still the better written show. there's just, a subtly to the characters there, a grounded human-ness, that i didn't quite get from all of the teens here.

as much as i clearly have a soft spot for richie, that's mostly on jon; as written, there really isn't much there, beyond "anime nerd" and "generally nice kid who wants to be liked". the scene right before he dies is comedic in how obvious it's setting things up, but its obvious-ness also makes it feel kind of cheap in terms of pulling on the heartstrings. similarly, ruth is initially just a gimmick (though hers at least ties into a deeper insecurity) and only gets her real moment of depth right before she dies. neither of them feel like they have much affect / haunting presence on the surviving teens once they're dead, past the initial shock of the reveals of their deaths.

and steph and pete are good, but... idk. i wanted a bit more from each of them. if they got to have a talk like paul and emma before "join us and die" - not even for the sake of the romance, but just for the sake of giving us more on each of them outside of their basic stereotypes and the romance - that would've helped, i think.

grace was great, though, no qualms. initially there was a part of me that was disappointed that the stereotype max was pushing on her about her being secretly repressed and horny was in fact true, but the way it gets used makes up for it, and in between max's death and when that specific thing comes up again in the climax, she gets to do a lot with the two conflicting sides of her personality, wanting to be good but having a capacity and arguable instinct for scheming and ruthlessness.

(also, as i mentioned earlier, max has a surprising amount going on, especially once you get into the Implications)

it could just be that i see those depths in the tgwdlm cast because i've had more time to chew on that cast, and that in time i'll see these teens in the same light. but i don't think it's just that.

i think part of it is how there are so many jokes about the teens being nerdy prudes (really, mostly just nerds). and like, that's part of the point, obviously, that they were being forced into those boxes and that they were still people with the potential to be more. but... i don't know if the show does enough to really make that point. again, richie doesn't really get to be more (and it's not for lack of time - there's a good amount of show before max comes back as the demon and kills for the first time).

in tgwdlm, the mains are all arguably based on stock characters, but they have more depth through their relationships. look at ted, the stock asshole sleazeball, who's shown to feel genuine remorse when he loses people he loves, in a way that contextualizes his bitterness. and there's a lot less highlighting of the stockness of them in their show than there is of the teens in npmd.

and the thing is, i think the cast of npmd at their foundations are more likable than the cast of tgwdlm (see the earlier point about emma and paul being assholes at times). they had a lot of potential. but i don't think enough of it is realized for the majority of them. the edges the tgwdlm cast has are part of what makes them compelling, and it's something the teens (minus grace) are largely missing.

the thing is, i know the fandom is going to see that potential and run with it. i know that they're gonna develop the teens' characterizations and relationships. i know they'll get into the trauma and the implications from everything that happened to them in the show. i know they'll get into... pete's survivor's guilt, and steph losing her dad(!!!), and what richie and ruth could have been, and all that. i know that they'll fill in the gaps. because that's what fans do. i guess i just wish there weren't so many gaps to fill. or, that the gaps wouldn't take so much effort from them to fill.

again, i acknowledge, maybe i'm expecting too much from the genre of show this is. it doesn't need to have A Point, i guess, it can just be fun, a comedic horror slasher in musical form. and it is fun, a lot of fun! ...but, tgwdlm was also a lot of fun. not as bombastic, for sure, but i'd say just as humorous. and it was also incredibly tightly written, and satisfying, with strong character arcs for multiple leads. it had commentary on musicals, on what makes a protagonist and what it means to be one, on conformity and institutions of authority, on romance even (you could do a very interesting aromantic reading of this show, trust me). and with a show that's titled nerdy prudes must die, that is About high school, there's, similarly, a lot you can do. and there's a fair amount of seeds planted there. but i don't think it all quite coheres. and it could've, if they really wanted it to.

...i did not keep that brief. ah well. i might disagree with half of this by the time i wake up tomorrow, i just needed to get it out of me. tl;dr, in my opinion, this show is stronger than black friday, but tgwdlm is still my favorite. all the cast and crew put a lot of love into this production and it really shows. i had a great time! :D but i'm always going to overanalyze things i care about as much as i care about the hatchetfield universe, and hence, here we are.

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #tgwdlm #npmd spoilers #nerdy prudes spoilers #if people have deeper reads of the teens based on stuff in the show itself that i didn't pick up on #i'd love to hear them!#for reference if anyone's curious: my absolute fav hatchetfield characters are #paul - hannah - lex - and ms halloway

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viviennevivisection · 2 years

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Session 11 Notes “Wings of Fate” (5/11/22)

-Neither Kitt nor Sterling picked up following Kitt's "Help" text message -Naomi and Cass hop on Cass' motorcycle, Vivienne and Watts take an Uber XL -Lights are...dim inside the the Vanguard Warehouse -Large cargo trucks are parked outside -The gate house (where Kitt usually is) is empty -Someone...ran through the gate? It was broken but with like...a person sized hole if I remember correctly? -The front door was wide open -Cass investigated Kitt's booth and slayed the roll -The stool was knocked was over -Things are uncharacteristically messy -Kitt keeps track of everyone who comes in and leaves the Warehouse by doodling little pictures of them. I cry -Danny Wright was the last person they admitted to the Warehouse -Vivienne spider climbed the building to the Fire Escape and let the others up -- upon entering no alarm went off despite there being one being installed. Upon examination, it looks like the wire had been cut sometime in the recent past. Someone has likely been using this as an entrance for a little while -I fucking BUNGLED the entrance stealth roll. It literally could not have been worse -There was a faint blue glow coming from the loading bay -The shelves are all emptied, it seems like they were in the process of taking my suggestion to pick and move the operation -Danny Wright and Sterling are talking in hushed tones, but Danny is wearing nice shoes...

-He also doesn't have his briefcase and is holding Sterling's Heart in his hand -STERLING HAS BEEN CRYING? -Danny is also laying almost dead in Sterling's office -Naomi snuck over to the office and healed Real Danny -Nice Shoes Danny is dripping in transmutation magic, asked us to turn a blind eye to him destroying the warehouse -We played along with him for a second, and he asked us to sign a contract and said: "Ms. Miller...I believe we already have your information on file." -I went to shake his hand to seal the deal and hit him with the inflict wounds -I got Sterling's heart back almost immediately, and Sterling ran to check on Danny -IT'S Mira !!!!! -Mira has robot wings! -Once again Sarah asked Alex "what power she's channeling" -- implying Naomi can channel more than one power -Naomi channeled Dark Naomi in order to fully fly -Cass, as always, lit her ass up -Once Mira was looking bad, Vivienne hit her with the sleep/rope combo -Mira's wings are attached to her body -- hard to rip off and they are not...divine -The wings are also made with The Dodder Corp parts -Viv slit Mira's throat, collect her blood in the Vytrian Chalice, cast spare the dying on Mira, and asked Vytris about the blood --> rolling a 27 -Vytris showed us a little movie confirming that Mira was the Bird Person having flown Dr. Florence Halloway from her office in Session 1 -Mira threw a vial that exploded like a smoke bomb to infect Phoebe with the Arcane Virus -Mira disguised as a basic business man (Danny's boss, maybe?) gave Danny her broken phone that made it to us -DANNY AND STERLING SMOOCH #CONFIRMED

-We learned this because when Mira arrived disguised as Danny, she smooched Sterling...weird -Mira was wearing a necklace, had collected everyone's phone (including Kitt's), an extra vial of arcane virus, and a silver ring that Cass took off and examined, prompting Alex and I to leave the table for quite a bit -The robots were locked in the basement, Mira was intending to burn the place down and let them die in the fire -But we gathered everyone and fled the Warehouse -Sterling took us to some rat tunnels -Mira is ... not infected with the virus -We slept in the rat tunnel with the bubble -Upon waking up, I zone of truthed Mira and we questioned her -Mira's main motivation is wanting to be successful -Cass read her DOWN and the light left her eyes -- "her spark" dimmed -Mira made a weird comment to Sterling -- something along the lines of "Is there where you took them? When you ran? evil laugh" -Mira wouldn't name any names -They were trying to make the "older models" (like Sterling?) divine, but have pivoted from that -Vivienne sawed off Mira's wings, killing her -Bird Person Person Arc, concluded

#dnd #campaign diary

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inthisfandom · 3 years

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witch in the web theory

what if ethan too was helped by ms halloway...

like thats the hat she gave him which he gives to hannah in black friday

@hatchetfieldtheories

@awigglycultist

what do u guys think?

#starkid #nmt theories #starkid theories #hatchedfield theories #hatchverse #hatchedfield #tiny town of hatchedfield

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emmettspeakz · 2 years

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Oh my goddd I’m actually crying about Duke forgetting Ms. Halloway

STOPPP

#nightmare time spoilers #nightmare time

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post-modern-prometheus · 3 years

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ST and DEH!!!!!!!

evan- dustin

connor- mike

zoe- el

ms hansen- robin

mrs murphy- max

mr murphy- mr halloway….……. ahahahahahaha no seriously lucas

jared- will

OKAY so this was the first show i ever saw on broadway and when i watched st3 i saw mr halloway and it was KILLING ME cuz i was like WHO IS THAT. but then later i found out it was mr murphy!!!! who made me sob when he broke down in you will be found!!!!!! and yeah so hes the only st cast member i’ve met ehehe. ANYWAY what was i saying? oh yeah i love this show, it hits home with the whole mental health thing and helped out when i needed it so yeah this one was fun.

did gaten sing waving through a window or was it michael in the bathroom that i’m thinking of? maybe both? but anyway yeah. dustin as evan would be fun. esp cuz like personality wise he more matches jared kinda. and william doesn’t really fit with jared so it’d be fun to just see him do his shtuff. i like these bc i like thinking about contrasting personalities between the characters and their roles.

and then we have mr mullet as connor like i just pictured boris and there you go. lumax as his and el’s rents??? LOVE THAT. and robin as dustin’s mom???? mhmhm vibin. anyway yeah i esp had fun with this one lmao

#stranger things

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thethistlegirlwrites · 3 years

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Faebruary/Febuwhump Day 20

Prompt: Betrayal

Robin lays out the required gear on the locker room table, checking all of it before the field training class begins. All around him, his classmates are doing the same thing. No one is paying any attention to him, which is a good thing.

He’s done pretty well so far. Aside from the cereal incident (he checks the boxes for iron content now if he absolutely has to eat cold cereal in the cafeteria) and the bloody nose O’Connor gave him in training last week (He was able to glamour the color of it fast enough but it almost got him sent to the nurses’ station anyway) he’s more or less slid through his first few weeks at the Silver Blade academy with relative ease. No one knows he’s fae, and he’s getting better at keeping it that way. Once he joins a field team, he’ll be good at this.

He ignores the little voice that tells him statistically he can expect to experience a major injury in his first year on the job, the kind that will unequivocally land him in the infirmary and get him outed. Maybe by then he’ll have found and killed the vamp who took his dad, and this will all be over.

An even crueller little voice asks him what he’ll do if he finds his father at the end of all this. If he’s been turned, like everyone seems to believe...will I be able to stake him?

He honestly can’t answer that. And right now he doesn’t need the distraction. He can’t afford to get hurt in training, nothing that will draw blood. The field ops instructor has praised his quick thinking and his ability to dodge any attack someone aims at him. The woman doesn’t know that Robin is as desperate to stay safe as he would be in an actual fight. The other kids here, the humans, they can afford to make mistakes and learn from them. Robin can’t.

But today, when he and his classmates step out into the training room, Robin can’t see Wheeler, with her red-grey braid and her scarred cheek. Instead, the person standing in the instructor’s area is a tall man with black hair and a black jacket.

Beside him is the Academy (and the agency)’s director, Marcus Jamison. Silver Blade, as a small agency, rolls the administration of its field work and its training into one role.

“Class, there’s been a change of instructor. Linsey Wheeler has been transferred to active duty with a field team, and Garret Roman is your new instructor for the rest of this class.”

It’s not an unusual situation. Two other teachers were recalled to active work and replaced with field hunters who have been put on injury leave. Jefferson, Robin’s new vampire biology teacher, has his right arm in a sling and his left-handed chalkboard writing is atrocious, and in tactics class, Halloway walks with a heavy limp.

But Robin can’t see anything physically wrong with this new instructor. Still, Silver Blade is known for shunting its problems off to the Academy, or at least that’s what Robin’s heard. Wheeler herself was waiting until she passed a psych eval after a hunt gone bad. Robin wonders if this guy’s in the same boat.

But there’s nothing in his eyes like he saw in Wheeler’s. Like he saw in Mom’s. Or sees sometimes in his own in the mirror. There’s no buried pain. Just a sort of steely, cold determination. Robin can’t imagine this guy being put at the Academy instead of in the field.

“Hope Wheeler ran a tight ship because I won’t cut any of you any slack,” Roman says sharply. “Discipline can save your life in the field. And you’re gonna learn it here. There will be no less than a hundred percent given in this room, and if that’s not what you’re used to, get it through your head that it will be now.”

He’s abrasive, and it makes Robin feel tense. He’s uncomfortable with people who act like this. People like this are dangerous. But Robin’s good at giving whatever he can already. He’ll be okay. He’ll keep himself invisible just like he was before. It’ll be alright.

Director Jamison leaves, and Roman picks up the clipboard that holds the class roster, reading down the line. When he reaches Kennedy Greene, who’s not in the room but also doesn’t have a notation next to her name explaining she’s out for injury, he scoffs.

“If Ms. Greene thinks she’s going to be given a free pass on skipping class because of who her mother is, she has another thing coming. If any of you know her, please inform her that she will be receiving a recorded demerit and has effectively used her one excused absence in this class.”

Robin can feel the tension in the room. Everyone is wondering who’s going to be the next target of the man’s ire and glad for now it’s not them. Roman continues working his way down the list, scanning the room as if he’s daring anyone else to be missing.

"Robinson, Angus." There's a small giggle of laughter through the assembled class, despite the fact that they've heard his name every day for weeks.

He wishes he hadn't had to give over his name, but the fae prohibition against lying extends to the written word. When the form required his first name, he had to give it. And it's not the oddest name in this business anyway. Hunters have a fondness for the anachronistic.

As long as no one knows he's fae, it doesn't matter. They can't command him in Seelie. He just has to deal with the discomfort of hearing his true name in someone else's mouth.

“Was your father a hunter?”

Robin nods, feeling a little sick. Roman doesn’t seem overly fond of kids with family legacies. He hopes he’s not about to get singled out like Greene. I don’t think I can slack because of a parent who had the same job. I’m not entitled. But he’s not sure he could convince Roman, and worse, he’s afraid of being someone the man regularly keeps an eye on to make sure of that.

“Adam Robinson’s kid, huh?” The man glances over Robin with a quick but skeptical stare, and something like curiosity. Does he know something about what happened to my dad?

“Yes.” Robin tries not to sound as eager for any scrap of information as he feels. He has to know. This guy came from the same agency as his dad, the black wolf design that was recently picked out of the leather left behind an unfaded and still clearly legible mark.

For a moment he wonders why the embroidery was removed rather than simply struck through with a line of red thread, there’s something skittering around the back of his mind, something Dad said once.

About the time he remembers that’s the mark of a hunter who left an agency in disgrace, barred from wearing their emblems ever again, the man speaks up.

“Didn’t he marry some Seelie girl?”

It feels like the temperature in the room drops twenty degrees. Robin can’t breathe, he can’t think, and everything is slowly tilting. No, no, no, no.

“Doesn’t say you’re fae on the record,” Roman is still talking like he hasn’t just upended Robin’s whole world, his whole life. He can feel the stares. “You wouldn’t be trying to pass yourself off as human, now would you?”

Robin knows if he opens his mouth he’s doomed. But his silence is just as damning.

“You’re coming with me, fae.” A hand slams down on his shoulder. “The rest of you, hit the physical training room. I have a problem to take up with the Director.”

He turns to Robin. “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later, they’re standing in Director Jamison’s office. He’s still at the Academy, probably finalizing some of the paperwork for the personnel change, and looks upset at being disturbed. But when Roman pushes Robin in front of him and snaps, “this one’s been hiding the fact that he’s Seelie”, the man takes notice.

He looks from the class roster to Robin, who’s struggling not to stare at the floor.

“Angus. Are you in any way eligible to be classified as fae?”

Robin swallows. He can’t get around that question. If they’d said ‘Are you fae’ he could have honestly said no, because he’s not fully fae. He’s part human. But this...humans have learned the fae’s loopholes and systematically closed them.

He takes a deep breath and wonders how it can feel so empty and numb to watch your whole life collapse around you.

“Yes. I’m fae.”

Taglist: @nade2308 @telltaleclerk @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowingriver24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts @amarilloskies @teamimprov @febuwhump

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know!

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhump day 20 #faebruary #magic & silver #robin #angus robinson #my oc #original character #original work

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fencecollapsed · 3 years

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Nightmare time anon again! I'm glad you like my commentary, I was actually worried I was being a bother, anyway witch in the web was a fucking treat man I loved that one, at first I thought ms halloway (hope that's spelt correctly) was the witch in the web because I think I saw something before I saw it that suggested bad vibes from her but I like that she's good! Also I'm 100% certain uncle Wiley is her ex

I'm glad you liked it!!! that one's so damn good, love that witchy 80s lady

#i dunno where i stand Exactly on her and wiley's past relationship but i def think they were close #into the mailbox #anonymous #hatchetfield #nightmare time

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marawritingstuff · 3 years

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SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written. Come on, Amelia, no sleeping. Time to write the memoriam. Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here. Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her! Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style. She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade. Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts. The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest. As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air. Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends. Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence. There is not much I can say now. Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe. We were both smart, extremely smart. Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.” Group projects were the new fad in education. My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening. When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help. Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent. I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school. Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad. Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students. I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle. However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began. They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker. Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in. The unmistakable sound filled my ears. “You Are My Sunshine.” Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete. She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her. As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing. At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers. At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered. Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off. Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more. One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me. She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley. Cute. Assigned Seating. I scanned the desks. Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat. The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo. There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia. A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling. At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line. When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back. They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry. That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine. I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people. Cheerleaders forming pyramids. Football players making touchdowns. Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance. After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared. My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees. She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times. Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything. The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian. Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD: APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE: SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead. My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations. You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze. Screams and tears. My mother hugging me. Calling Susie. It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now. Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony. The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me. I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers. The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car. The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days. One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother. If I had only listened to Susie. Or opened the e-mail. Or done…anything.

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled. I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep. As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold. She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.” The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole. From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items. The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out. Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school. Everyone scattered. I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground. Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away. This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break. Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week. Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine. When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving. Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress. Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium. Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm. Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights. A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day. She is survived by her grandmother. Funeral arrangements will be announced. Grief counselors will be made available in the main office. School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye. However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground. Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth. I sat in Susie’s car staring. I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral. Susie backed out but let me take the car. Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot. I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left. No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole. As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within. The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats. Nothing worked. Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers. Books flew from students’ arms. The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song. My grandmother adored Nat King Cole. Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system. No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting. There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall. I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident. Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over. The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg. He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status. I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back. However, the yearbook distribution had to be done. On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye. Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office. Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class. Susie should have been smiling back at me. Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same. Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors. Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry. I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer. I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking. Goodbye Jennifer.

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year. Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom. No one objected. Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities. The question is will Sunshine be with us? Will she stay at the school? I don’t know the answer to that. I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

#writers on tumblr #my writing #fiction #short story

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agoodsfpage · 3 years

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“This is Morgan Winters, Barely Alive on GLNS News!” - Part 1

Hey! Posted this here and on the forum. Those of you who know me there will know this will not be the first time I've posted the first part of a story, promised to deliver more, and then abandoned the project within, like, an hour, but trust me, guys... I'm going to finish this one this time. I can feel it in my bones.

Anyway, something about the concept of a news reporter catching a cold has been weighing on my brain for just the longest time so I bring you this first part, in which our news reporters does *not*, in fact, catch a cold yet.

There is a little bit of sneezing and illness stuff at the end, but this is mostly about setting the scene, establishing some characters. I feel like actually having some kind of plot is a nice minimal standard to achieve with storytelling, but this might be why I'm always too lazy to finish telling them. If I do fail to post the second part of this one, my next story will just be called 'woman with a cold who is sneezing' and will just be about someone, like, going to various places.

With that in mind, do feel free to remind me to pick this up if you actually really want to see where this story (kind of inevitably) ends up going.

And, excuse the poor formatting. It is not my strong suit.

"...and despite facing calls to resign, the counselor has confirmed he'll remain in his post. From GLNS, this is Morgan Winters, back to you Alex."

Morgan yanked the earpiece out from her ear as quickly as she could, and ran a hand through her long black hair.

"How was that?" she asked Derek, from behind the camera, who gave a simple thumbs up in response. "Good," she said. "Now get me out of here. It's fucking freezing, and these old government buildings never seem to have any heating" "We got a taxi waiting for you outside to get you back to the studio" he replied, as he rewound the footage. "Think we're going to end up back in the van, though, if you ask me. Molly just took a phone call from the boss. Suspect she's going to be looking for you any minute now"

Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course she is. What now? World's tallest scarecrow just collapsed? Local teen gets tongue frozen to lampost? Or are we going to interview the mayor's husband again, and hope he's sober enough to string together a full sentence this time?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't commission 'em, Morgan, I just film 'em. You'll have to ask her." "I'll have to avoid her, more like. I'm going to the office. I have a mountain of work to catch up on. I don't have time to do some twee interview with Farmer Dan about Potatofest '22, or whatever they want from me." "You do what you want. Taxi's that way, though. Next to the van" Derek replied, smirking, pointing to the east side of the building, and not taking his eyes off of the footage.

Morgan sighed and made her way to the city hall car park. She spied her taxi from across the road and started to walk towards it when she heard her name in an all-too-familiar and all-too-cheerful tone of voice.

"Slow down, Morgan" Molly called out, from behind her. Morgan closed her eyes, silently cursed her luck, and turned around to face Molly, who was dressed in a garnet-red beret, that (in Morgan's humble and, admittedly, uninformed opinion) badly compliment her curly, silver-blonde hair.

"I am so sorry, Molly, I almost forgot to wait for you," she said, forcing herself to smile. "That's alright, I'd just disappeared to make a quick phone call" Molly replied. "From the station," she said after a slightly uncomfortable pause. "Oh, they're always bothering us while we're busy. Well, I best be going, I need to get back to the--" "Could you do me a favor, Morgan?"

Morgan gritted her teeth, her green eyes lightly glazing over as Molly carried on.

"You see," Molly continued barely registering Morgan's expression, "the public health department just got in touch. It's that time of year when colds and such things are going around, you see. So, the department was wondering if we could send a reporter down to a local physician's to do a quick cold and flu safety report"

Morgan shook her head. "No, Molly, no, absolutely not. I told you, I'm done with these... nothing reports. I'm a serious journalist, alright? I have a degree-- two degrees! Two degrees, I have a Bachelors in Communication, and a Masters in Media and Journalism, okay? I should be covering far more serious topics than this. Health- public health isn't even something I know anything about. Can't you ask Alice to do it?" "We did ask Alice to do it!" Molly replied. "And?" "She can't" "Why not?" "Caught a cold."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, what about Steve or Michael? They should be grateful for any work at this point, to be honest" "No, look, the department wants *you*. They've seen you! They think you have a really down-to-earth personality and a great presentation style. Perfect for delivering this kind of message."

Morgan paused. "They asked for me?" "Yes" "...and they think I have a great presentation style?" "Absolutely" "And a down-to-earth personality?" "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, look, if you do this, there's sure to be some more work coming your way. Good work, too. Not these fluff pieces, not these interviews with outraged retirees. You get to do what you want." Morgan really thought about it. "...No more local food and culture festivals?" "No more anything, just pure you." "...Fine. Fuck you, but... fine." Morgan replied. "When do they want me?" Molly looked at her watch and looked back up at Morgan. "Half an hour ago."

--------

It was not often that Morgan got to visit the more affluent side of town. She lived pretty far from here, and the people who did live here were wealthy enough to keep the cameras away from their neighborhood. While she wasn't thrilled about this assignment, she couldn't help but gawp at the mini-mansions, and luxury restaurants that lined the streets.

Still, all the money and lawyers in the world couldn't keep out the common cold. Almost every face she could spot from the van, was adorned with a red nose, or a tissue pressed tightly against it. Morgan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she turned her head towards her phone. She was really starting to regret this.

After a short drive, in which Molly had to negotiate with an incredibly congested toll-booth operator, the van pulled up outside the district's medical center. Derek scrambled out of the van to get the equipment ready, while Morgan and Molly went inside to meet the nurse they were going to be interviewing.

"Hey," Morgan said approaching the receptionist at the front desk, who was busy scribbling some notes into a pad. "Morgan Winters, I'm with GLNS news. This is Molly, I was told you both spoke on the phone about an interview?"

The receptionist looked up from her notepad and something instantly struck Morgan about her appearance. The long, wavy red hair, Morgan had already noticed from a distance. The bright blue eyes were distinctive but didn't immediately catch her notice. No, Morgan's attention was right away drawn to the sore, red rim that ran around the woman's nostrils, that was accentuated by the sudden and thick sniffle she gave.

"One moment..." she muttered, barely managing those precious m's and n's that would have lent clarity to what she said. She casually reached over a small PA system on her desk. "Ndurse Halloway? GLNS are here" she muttered, or something to that effect, at least. Some tinny, staticky voice gave a robotic reply, and the receptionist looked back up to Morgan. "Just take a seat with the oh-others... ih-ISHIEW!"

Morgan was grateful that the receptionist was able to grab a tissue. Still, she would have liked it all the more if the receptionist had actually managed to bring it to her nose, some time before letting out the surprising sneeze.

"Ugh... 'scuse mbe" she mumbled, using the barely touched tissue to blow her already sore nose. "Was the last one standing up until I came in this m-mordi-ih...it'SHIEW!" she sneezed again, clearly an aftershock from the previous sneeze, but this time, thankfully, with the tissue ready to catch it.

'Last one standing...' Morgan mentally repeated with a degree of exasperation, before directing Molly to sit beside her in the waiting room.

"We better make this quick, alright? I'm already regretting every second of this..." she whispered to her assistant, as the woman beside her, blew her nose for the fourteenth time. "Why, what's wrong?" she asked "What do you mean, what's wrong? This place is gross. I feel gross. I want to go back to the office, where it's... I mean still gross, but less gross than this" "Oh, hush. Don't worry about it, it's just a quick interview, bit of filming of... doctor-y things, and we can do the V/O back at the studio" "I don't know how you can be so calm about this" Morgan snapped, as the man next to Molly launched into a coughing fit. Molly simply shrugged. "I'm not bothered. I had my flu shot" she said, confidently. "Do flu shots protect against colds?" asked Morgan Molly paused for a moment. "I mean, yeah, of course, they do. They're basically the same thing. Wouldn't be much point in a flu vaccine if you're just going to get a cold anyway, surely!"

Morgan was skeptical, but before she could open her mouth to object, she heard her name called from the reception.

"Ms. Widters?" the receptionist asked, holding a tissue to her nose as she spoke. "Ndurse Halloway will see you both dow..." she managed, before sneezing three more times into the tissue. As she pulled it away, Morgan winced at how sore and red her nose was starting to look. At that point, Morgan realized that there was nothing she could do to protect herself. From the moment she walked into the health center, she was a dead woman walking.

#snz #snz kink

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purpe · 3 years

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Ms. Halloway is webby or connected to webby

#probably the witch in the web #maybe she was friends with webby?#nightmare time spoilers #nightmare time

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paisleylovergirl · 5 years

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Beginnings

A/N: This story line started brewing a few weeks ago - I wondered how the staff would feel about Mr. Sinclair courting and getting married again - in my world they know he is a gentle soul and they worry about him. I owe the hugest of huge thanks to @hellospunkiebrewster for just being awesome!! When I first reached out to her she was so happy to read my ramblings and give me the shot in the arm I needed to start my journey into fanfic - so thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for being your awesome self!!!! This is my first ever story - please be gentle...

Some characters are property of Pixelberry Studios.

Word count: about 1000

All the servants at Ledford Park knew something was different – ever since Mr. Sinclair came home from the garden party at Edgewater there was just something about him that wasn’t like his normal, reserved, proper self. Not that there was anything the staff could put their fingers on exactly, just a slight feeling that something was different…

Most of the servants had been with Ledford Park for many years, they knew Mr. Sinclair was a quiet gentleman, one of decorum and kindness as well as one of routine. Mr. Lawrence had been the steward of Ledford Park since before Mr. Sinclair became the master and took great pride in running the estate in such a way that Mr. Sinclair’s routine was never interrupted - especially after the ugliness and scandal that Roselyn Sinclair caused five years prior. Mr. Lawrence was one of the few servants who had seen firsthand the devastation her selfish actions had caused and the wall that Mr. Sinclair placed around himself.

Every year since Mr. Lawrence dreaded the social season, for he knew Mr. Sinclair; a young, handsome, wealthy bachelor; would be expected to re-marry and produce an heir for Ledford Park, especially since his mourning season had well past. He had heard through the servant grapevine that Ms. Felicity Halloway had her eye set on Mr. Sinclair as well as his vast fortune and was determined to become the next Mrs. Sinclair. That thought sent chills down Mr. Lawrence’s spine – he heard enough from other households to know Ms. Halloway was cut from the same cloth as Roselyn Sinclair and he could not bear to see Mr. Sinclair have his heart broken again.

Just as Mr. Lawrence started coming to terms with the possibility of Ms. Halloway joining Ledford Park he started to notice a slight difference in Mr. Sinclair’s demeanor. There was a tiny bit of sparkle that appeared in Mr. Sinclair’s eyes, especially after a visit with a certain Lady Clara of Edgewater. Mr. Lawrence was pleasantly surprised with the beautiful Lady Clara on the night of Mr. Sinclair’s dinner party. The way she took a moment to greet the staff, the kindness that radiated from her, the way she held her head high as Ms. Halloway tried to embarrass her. He also noticed the way Mr. Sinclair never seemed to take his eyes off Lady Clara. From that point on any time Mr. Lawrence or any of the servants caught a glimpse of a smile or heard a chuckle coming from Mr. Sinclair they knew it had to be due to Lady Clara.

The summer of 1816 there was much joy surrounding the union of Mr. Sinclair and Lady Clara. The day of the union Mrs. Carter; Ledford Parks chef; was busy in the kitchen creating Mr. Sinclair’s favorite meal to celebrate the happy day as well as a couple of his favorite sweets. Mrs. Carter had discovered Mr. Sinclair had a bit of a sweet tooth and she took every chance she could to keep a few sweet treats ready for him. Her and Mr. Carter had never been blessed with children of their own and her dear husband was the only one who knew Mrs. Carter worried after Mr. Sinclair like a mother would. Mrs. Carter was a little pensive about the new Mrs. Sinclair, she had heard glowing stories from other servants as well as through the grapevine that kept the staff of the large country estates in communication with each other. Unfortunately, she also remembered the pain the previous Mrs. Sinclair had caused. She decided that if Mr. Sinclair saw Lady Clara fit for Ledford Park she would certainly give her a chance.

Mr. & Mrs. Sinclair would be leaving for their marriage trip about a week after they were wed and Lady Clara was excited to have a chance to explore Ledford Park and to get a chance to start knowing the staff before they set out. The day after they were wed while Mr. Sinclair was tending to business in his office Lady Clara went to the kitchen to discuss meal plans for the next few days and to inquire of any needs the kitchen staff had. While Lady Clara was talking with Mrs. Carter, she shared a few memories of her youth – gardening with her mother, helping gather supplies from the market and her favorite activity of cooking with her. Lady Clara shared how much she loved planting seeds with her mother and watching them grow and tending the garden until her mother would have her help to harvest them and the feasts they would have and share with others! And how could she forget the wonderful smell the whole cottage would take on when her mother was baking, and laughingly telling Mrs. Carter of the trouble she would get into swiping bits and chunks of bread and fresh churned butter for her and Briar to share behind the hen house. In that moment Mrs. Carter knew Mr. Sinclair had made a perfect match.

Later that afternoon while Mr. & Mrs. Sinclair were sharing tea in the parlor Mrs. Middlesex; the housekeeper; and Ms. Fitz; a maid; happened to be walking by when they were startled by a deep hearty laugh coming from the parlor. Moments later Mr. Sinclair could be heard asking just what he’d gotten himself into as his and Mrs. Sinclair’s laughter rang out. Ms. Fitz being a fairly new servant was unaware most of the other staff members could never recall hearing Mr. Sinclair laugh like that. Mrs. Middlesex sent Ms. Fitz on her way and made her way to the kitchen to share the laughter and light moment she heard with Mrs. Carter. By dinners end all the staff of Ledford Park noticed or had been made aware of the new sparkle in Mr. Sinclair’s eye and the hint of a smile that stayed upon his face.

By the time Mr. & Mrs. Sinclair left for their marriage trip the entire staff was convinced that Lady Clara was in fact the perfect choice for the serious Mr. Sinclair.

#playchoices #desire and decorum #ernest x mc #choices fanfic #ernest sinclaire #desire and decorum fanfic

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quest-draws · 6 years

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Excerpt from The Story of the Seven: Reconstructed, an archival initiative seeking to recreate Madame Lucretia’s original notes with as much accuracy as possible. The following has been compiled by comparing post-Story accounts from dozens of dedicated chroniclers, with oversight from Madame Lucretia and the available members of the Starblaster’s crew.

Excerpt begins

Cycle 36, day 6

We’ve finally found a sign of civilization, as well as plausible evidence that we are all blind idiots. As we flew over yet more icy foothills, Merle (Of all of us!) noticed that one of the mounds appeared to be smoking. Under more careful examination we realized that these ‘foothills’ were actually snowed-covered buildings, meaning it is quite likely the other foothills we’ve seen the past few days were also actually buildings.

We, the best and brightest of our deceased world, saviors of multiple realities, the last and only line of defense against the relentless malevolence of the Hunger, wasted nearly a week looking for signs of life when there were entire cities directly under our hull. At the risk of sounding pessimistic, I think this world may be fucked.

Now that we’ve realized our mistake, Captain wants us to backtrack and see if we can find a settlement closer to Lup and Barry’s original prediction of the Lights trajectory. However, Lup’s trying to convince him that we should do some reconnaissance in this village first.

LT: Look, there’s no point going backwards in this fuckin’ blizzard if we can just-

CD: -We are way, way off, the- they’re your calculations? Do you-

BB: [crosstalk] They’re our calculations, Lu

LT: [crosstalk] I know.

TT: [crosstalk] You calculated ‘em. calc-calculated the shit outta-

[LT puts up a hand to silence the others]

LT: Look I’m not dunking on my calculations, cause they’re tight as shit, ‘natch; outside looks like someone put a flock of doves through a woodchipper. You wanna fly through that?

CD: [crosstalk] I’m not-

MB: [crosstalk] Gross?

LT: [crosstalk] Been flying six days straight, you wanna keep, keep flyin’-

CD: I don’t wanna fly through the scenario you just made me visualize, no. This is just snow.

[MB raises his hand kind of awkwardly. Mags, c’mon, you’re not 12]

MB: Uuum, Cap’nport? No offense but you look kinda beat, are you sure?

CD: Wh- excuse me. Are you questioning my piloting abilities, Magnus?

MB: [crosstalk] ‘Course not, just-

CD: [crosstalk] I’ve flown us through, through literal eldritch death pillars -

MH: [crosstalk] ...do look a little tired -

MB: I know!

[captain gets out of the pilots seat, oh dear]

CD: What was that? Merle?

LT: It’s been nearly a week, Captain. You haven’t slept.

CD: Neither have you!

LT: Yeah, and I’m pissed about it!

BB: look everyone’s a little frazzled-

MH: I’m fine.

BB: [crosstalk] Merle, oh my-

LT: [crosstalk] Merle!

TT: [crosstalk] Hahaha holy fuck Merle! Not the time?

CD: You know what, okay, fine! Okay, we’ll vote. Let’s vote. Who thinks we should go down there?

[Lup, Mag LT, MB, and BB all put up their hands]

CD: All right, and who says we should turn back?

[CD, TT, and MH put up their hands]

CD: Lucretia.

TT: Lu- Baby-Lu, fuckin’ put dowait I forgot to put myhandupfuck

LC: I’m not answering to that, but I do thin k

[TT attepts to take my fuckin

Taako tried to take my journal, and while I understand his intentions it’s imperi

BABY LU NEEDS TO STOP WRITING OUR CONVERSATIONS IN REAL TIME AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE WORLD AROUND HER

BABY LU WILL GET HER JOURNAL BACK WHEN THE GROWN UPS DECIDE WHAT WERE DOING IN THIS FROZEN FUCKING HELLSCAPE

After my journal was so rudely stolen, we decided that it would be best to have some of the crew investigate the settlement while the others got some rest. Captain landed the Starblaster just out of sight (not far with the weather) and Lup, Magnus and I made our way into town on foot. We were ushered into the smoking building Merle first noticed almost as soon as we were in sight of it. It’s apparently some sort of tavern/town hall, with one long, open room punctuated by tables and some truly massive support beams.

Chiana, the innkeeper (or possibly Mayor? Chief? They are definitely some measure of authority figure) was quite unsettled by our sudden appearance. It’s apparently unusual for people to travel between communities at this time of year, especially in the middle of the night (which it apparently is. We seriously lost track of time with the storm blocking out the suns). They’ve insisted on putting us up until the storm settles some. We have of course accepted, but we decided that it might be best not to mention our true intentions here. They were spooked just by us appearing in a blizzard, we don’t need to bring up the rest of it. We notified Capn’port that we’ll be staying a few days to gather info, and since then Lup and Magnus have been having quite the time chatting with the assorted patrons/guests.

This really is quite a spectacular building. The ceiling is only about 7 ft. high (Lup and Mags can both touch the ceiling), but it’s so wide and long it doesn’t feel cramped. It’s hard to estimate how large it is exactly; the hall is a patchwork of additions, none of which quite match up. Here an extra nook were the hall was widened, there a slight indent were an old support must have collapsed. Wood flooring giving way to tile, tile being overtaken by carpet, and then carpet receding back to wood again. The support beams are the only consistent element, solid blocks of wood punctuating the room at even intervals.

But the room’s really dominated by the kitchens and the dance floor. The kitchens are spaced along the northern wall about 50 ft. from one another, one in each corner and the last right in the center. The latter is the only one operational at the moment, and Chiana’s not making anything more complicated than some mulled cider (which, for the sake of accurate chronicling, I must say is delicious). I thought at first the stove here was heating the hall, and while it’s fairly large on closer inspection that doesn’t seem plausibe. It’s far too warm, even in the farther corners. I suppose the surrounding snow might provide some insulation?

Besides that, there’s a raised dance platform in the center of the hall, in front of the middle kitchen. Lup’s dragged Magnus and a two middle aged women onto it, though there isn’t any music at this hour. She's currently waving at me to come join them. I’ve been nursing the drink Chianna gave me so I’d have an excuse to stay seated, but I think I’d better relent before Lup tries to physically drag me up there. They’re really acting silly tonight, but I suppose we all needed to blow off some steam.

Alright. Okay. I probably should have noticed this when I first started drinking, but the alcohol here seems to be quite a bit stronger then I’m used too? Or what Lup and Magnus are used too. I didn’t notice until I went out on the dance floor and I kind of tripped but at first I thought that was just me being clumsy or tired, but then when I started actually dancing it was worse like, I’m usually a good dancer. And Lup was acting especially silly and so was magnus, even though he should have a better constitution than us because he’s not a squishy wizard he’s a beefcake. Lup said that.

Fuck okay I am definitely a little tipsy here I should stop writing. But I was going to write somethig down it was important? we were dancing, and then I was stumbling and I said like Lup I feel kinda tipsy but I only had one drink and she said Aaaaaww ‘Creesha, you are suuuuuuuuuch a lightweight lol but then she fell over and Magnus laughed and one of the ladies we were dancing with asked how much she’d had and shed had three, which made them laugh because apparently threes a lot here. And then we all sat down for a bit and we were talking about travelling and it was kind bullshit because we are trying to blend but we mentioned THE LIGHT THAT

THAT WAS IT LIGHT LIGT light the light what was that aaaaah what was OH MY GOD I CAN’T REMEMBER THE REST FUCK I [[handwriting becomes illegible]]

okay okay I went back to talk again and I had a few more drinks because chiana gave me more drinks they are actually super sweet i mean chianna. Chianas super sweet. They actualysaw the light when it landed sorta they saw a flash through the storm but not in the direction we came. Lup’s been trying to redo her calculations on some napkins she thinks the blizzard had something to do with it but shes still really smashed I dont think now a good time for math Lup

Lucretia darling are you gonna nag me or are you gonna oh my god I dont know how to spell half those words Lup Im a fucking drunk journalist dont pull the fucking jargon out on me

Barry please tell me what Lups saying in words drunk journalist understands

A drunk? Lucretia? Whats going on?

Lup: Baaaaaarrry holy shit did you remember to to do the thing for the storm

BB: Lup? Lup you’re- Lucretia give your stone to Lup I can hardly understand her

LT: hiiiiiiiiiiiii barold, hiiiiiiiii, we fucked uuuuuup

BB: oh wow youre super smashed

LT we fucked up Barry! we didnt-interference! the storm created interference and we fucked up the direction and

BB Lup that doesn’t make anysense? our equipment relies mostly on magical energy unless the storm has arcane origins

LT: oh hey, MORRISON DOES THE STORM HAVE ARCANE ORIGINS?

Morison: MS: (shes one of the dancing ladies) I dunno where arcane is but the storms local. amma constein cursed the whole country side bout 20 years ago after liddy halloway dumped her

SEE BARRY

BB: okay yeah that would definitely throw off our readings but its not like we could have known that beforehand. I mean we know now, so I suppose its a good thing you guys went down there even if you also got fucking wasted, for some reason

?: whose fucking wasted (oh its taako

TT: heeeey chucklefucks whats this about you getting crunk on your uuuuh super important potentially, world saving info gathering mission?

MB taako taaaaaakoooooooo booze is super cool down here? I had a bunch

TT: eh yup I could guess

MB: but not like a super bunch? A little bunch. Its suuuuper strong its great

TT hahaha oh. oh you are so lucky cap’nports asleep. What about you, baby lu? tell me-tell me you, at least are treating this mission with the uh, gravity and maturity it fucking-fucking nesessitates fuck you taako im 58

TT whelp haha BB please just give m emy stone back

im 5 fucking 8!!! Im not a baby godamnit. Im a grown ass women ill get as crunk as I fuckin wanna on this sweet ass booze and you cant have any taako you bitch hahahahha oh my god lucy someone please tell me shes still writing this down I nee

taakos a jackass im a grown fucking ass women an he wasnt even really a hundred when he joined cause hes a LIAR and A JERK comparatively in terms of relativ ageing im more an adult then him but he still calls me baby lu he could call me lucy or creesh like Lup calls me that i love her she? so nice Lup brought me another drink and we danced more but not well cause everthings floaty and I lay down so my head wouldnt float to high the ceilings still really low Lup lay down with e and magnus came in he was screaming cause he went out in the snow he was trying to do the dip thing were you go in a hot spring right after but theres no spring only cold magnus. everythigs only cold magnus why do you do this to yourself?magnus. chiana is making him sit by the stove in the kitchen and they wont give us any more drinks i told them i was 58 and also an alien but that didnt convince them which is probably fair. they dont know. taako knows he has no excuse

chianna gave us a room and its really dark its in the basement it super warm I think there actually is a hot spring but like underneath sorry mags that probablywhat you were thinking but still. super dumb. god Im gonna be so bad in the morning. the storms clearing up a little so well probably go then I hope captains not mad Im not sure he knows but we proly found the light so he cant be too mad. I need sleep. I need to sleep. good night journal Ill miss you love Lucretia

Cycle 36, day 7

Firstly, I am never drinking again. Ever. Secondly, as soon as I get back to the ship, I am burning these pages. Posterity is not worth this level of embarrassment.

Cycle 36, day 8

Lup, Magnus and I had some trouble getting back. Though we weren’t nearly as intoxicated as the previous night, we weren’t precisely sober either. Between Magnus stopping to puke every five minutes, Lup’s persisting lack of balance, my truly excruciating headache, and all the motherfucking, goddamned snow, we nearly got lost on the mile-long hike back to the ship. The others had a field day teasing us, and I can’t even be mad at them for it. Looking over my own notes is literally, viscerally painful. To reiterate: I am never. Drinking. Again.

I am not going to destroy those pages, however. It’s the only written account I have of what Chiana and the others told us about the Light, and it would be irresponsible to get rid of them before we’ve properly found it. Besides, Lup and Taako both practically begged me to keep it in. I don’t understand why Lup want’s this reminder of our idiocy to remain in tact, but damn she is hard to argue with. She’s also tried to insist that “baby-Lu” is a compliment, but won’t explain how so. I take back all the nice things drunk me said about her.

Maybe later I’ll go back and just stick a summary were those pages are, but for the mean time they’ll have to stay.

I spent most of yesterday just resting, once we got back. I don’t think I honestly realized how tired I was until then. It’s only been 8 days since the last apocalypse, most of which we spent searching, frantic and blind in a literally cursed blizzard. Much as I hate to say it, I may need to take Taako’s advice and stop chronicling in real time. Just for a bit. I’ll pick it up again when we find the Light.

Time to go save another world.

End of excerpt.

[editors note: Can I just formally request that, should we ever see Fisher and Junior again, I be permitted to feed these pages to them, in hopes that they might be erased permanently this time? Please?

- LC ]

[editors note: Madame Lucretia’s request is noted and denied.

- TT ]

#lucretia #madame director #taz #taz balance #lup taako #Taako Taaco #davenport #magnus burnsides #barry blujeans #merle highchurch #ipre crew #adventure zone fic #The Adventure Zone #i wrote a fic for once!!#I have no idea if it's good!#but also if you read this i need you to please imagine #the staff of the bob having their elegant regal directors drunken rant #about taakos stupid nickname for her #injected directly into their brains

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