Robin, Did You Just OD In There? No. I… am Still Alive.

BOB'S BURGERS 3.18 — It Snakes a Village

♡ jessica alexander via instagram ( jessalxander )

GHOSTED (2023) dir. Dexter Fletcher

another one for akamzii on da

characters going “we were lovers once”: eh, it’s okay i guess. it’s nice enough

characters going “we were friends once”: absolutely devastating. one hit knockout i’m gone

there  is  something  feral  going  through  rowena's  head  as  they're  being  questioned  about  a  death  that  her  claws  were  nowhere  near  ━━  and  she  finds  herself  thinking  that  perhaps  they  should  talk  to  the  huntsman  about  it,  his  hands  already  covered  in  dried  blood.  red  ribbon  holds  the  long  and  messy  braid  together,  hair  swinging  all  the  way  down  to  the  end  of  red's  back  as  she  walks.  eyebrows  furrowed,  part  of  the  little  red  thinks  they  somehow  messed  up  ━━  thinking  things  through  is  not  their  forte.  each  step  down  the  stairs  feels  like  the  walk  through  the  hall  of  a  prison  wing  and  rowena  doesn't  know  if  she's  walking  away  or  right  into  a  cell  of  someone  else's  making.

red  tilts  their  head,  both  arms  now  crossed  over  her  chest.  "and  what  makes  you  think  i  would  confess  anything  to  you?"  there  is  only  one  soul  that  she  might  bare  her  own  to  and  he's  unrecognizable  these  days.  "are  you  just  waiting  here  for  people  to  talk  to  you  about  what  they  told  the  magic  mirror?  boredom  really  does  take  a  toll  on  some  people."

open to. anyone — come one, come all ! setting & notes. remembrance day event part two, looming about around the main enclave. feel free to assume connections if not plotted yet, or this can be their first interaction if you'd like.

      a slimy thing, waffling about and bouncing from one corridor to another, eyes on the action as always. if there was one thing fionn couldn't miss, it was a show — comedies or tragedies, both equally as entertaining to a lone sprite, itching to get a firsthand view at the next sensation that sweeps their quaint little town. it's about time, he'd assert, after days of droning boredom, the cabin fever was bound to settle in eventually - fionn just didn't expect it to be so soon. " what a shame, " a tone decorated with dramatization, cutting through the undercurrent of empathy that was, albeit, genuine, but it was hard to tell with him.

      " now, what say you when the magic mirror reveals your deepest secret to the entire town, hm ? " he was merely playing, but surely this was neither the time nor place, with tensions inevitably rising and, eventually, anxieties too. " the time to confess your wrongdoings is nigh. i pinky promise i won't tell another soul, unlike that dreaded mirror. "

impatient  bartender  leaves  their  place  of  work  before  they  are  roped  into  doing  the  final  steps  of  closing  up,  night  plans  already  sent  down  the  drain.  faye  would  be  lying  if  they  said  they  are  looking  forward  to  this  empty  headed  meeting  of  all  of  fabletown  ━━  a  gala  to  make  them  all  forget  that  their  little  safe  haven  might  not  be  as  safe  after  all.  if  nothing  else,  tink  is  looking  forward  to  whatever  drama  other  fables  might  cook  up  (  and  it  might  make  up  for  the  lack  of  good  entertainment  ).

familiar  figure  catches  the  fairy's  eyes  and,  for  half  a  beat,  faye  considers  merely  walking  past  and  ignoring  the  other's  existence.  and  then,  he  speaks.  "the  celebration  hasn't  even  started  and  you're  already  speaking  like  you're  on  your  third  glass  of  wine,  debbie  downer."  as  if  faye  has  any  qualms  with  the  thoughts  lancelot  is  sharing  ━━  it's  not  like  he's  the  only  one.

"if  any  mundanes  came  tomorrow,  i  think  we'd  be  alright.  i'm  not  above  kicking  someone  in  the  crotch.  and  i  found  a  cute  butterfly  knife  i'm  just  dying  to  use."  morality  is  far  too  expensive  these  days.  if  mundanes  came  looking  for  a  fight,  who  could  blame  the  fables  for  rising  to  the  occasion?  "what  would  you  do?"

mise  en  scenè  ⸺  the  crooked  mile,  at  the  juncture  between  the  open  arms  hotel  and  the  lucky  pawn,  an  hour  before  sunset.

in  a  few  hours,  fables  from  each  parcel  of  their  sequestered  town  will  march  their  inexorable  way  to  the  woodland  in  the  opaque  night,  beneath  the  cool  balm  of  stars.  the  sun  will  slope  beneath  the  horizon—the  world  aflame,  then  put  out  as  if  drowned—and  the  shoulders  of  the  sky  will  falter,  will  capitulate  to  the  black  sails  of  darkness.  the  day’s  light,  extinguished  in  but  a  short  breath,  a  short-lived  exhalation  of  time.

natural  occurrences  still  startle  lancelot,  but  he  supposes  it  is  to  be  expected,  even  excused:  after  all,  he  was  only  recently  roused  from  an  interminable  stupor.  hanging  from  a  tree  for  the  better  part  of  four  centuries  will  do  that  to  you,  king  cole  had  said.  the  symbol  of  death  marks  him  still;  no  signet  of  valiance  or  virtue  or  the  life  he  paraded  and  prided  himself  in  when  camelot  still  stood  tall  and  unfallen.  no  fate  could  be  so  final  and  so  essentially  pathetic.  nothing,  not  even  the  glory  of  a  name,  could  absolutely  survive  death.

this  world,  this  mundane  world,  had  prevailed  and  thrived  long  before  the  fables  arrived.  it  will  continue  to  do  so  long  after  they  are  gone.  one  way  or  another,  he  thinks.  how  long  before  their  magic  is  depleted?  before  the  cardinal  bond  between  birthplace  and  creation  is  severed  completely?  until  no  one  who  has  entered  the  heart  of  their  collective  tale  can  remember  it,  can  pass  it  on?

for  now,  he  waits,  a  sombre  sentry  hemmed  in  between  the  open  arms  and  the  lucky  pawn.  the  fleet  of  footsteps  draws  neither  his  eye  nor  his  ear,  but  he  inclines  his  head  nonetheless.  “for  how  long  do  you  think  we’ll  remain  hidden?  another  decade?  another  century?  tomorrow,  perhaps,  we’ll  wake  to  the  mundane  authority  storming  our  homes.”

familiar  (  and  often  found  irrelevant  on  faye's  day  to  day  life  )  faces  pass  by  and  for  the  first  time  in  forever,  the  bored  bartender  actually  sees  the  lot  of  them  ⸻  and  none  of  them  seem  innocent  though  faye  is  all  too  self  aware  that  she  does  not  trust  easily.  then  again,  in  a  place  like  fabletown,  who  is?  their  silent  challenge  falls  short  of  the  entertainment  faye  wished  to  drain  from  someone  else's  manifestation  of  guilt  (  or  maybe  just  one  bad  night,  an  evasion  of  sleep  mimicking  what  would  be  a  heavy  conscience  )  and  yet,  she  is  more  than  glad  to  change  spots  and  try  her  luck  somewhere  else.  perhaps  closer  to  the  sheriff's  station,  catch  as  someone  turns  on  their  heels  far  too  quickly  as  they  change  their  mind.

plans  change  just  as  quickly  as  they  are  made,  though.

the  corner  of  tink's  lips  curl  into  an  amused  and  knowing  smile  ⸻  she  might  be  melting  away  from  the  boredom  of  it  all  but  she  at  least  is  well  aware  that  finn  is  too.  knowing  he  is  suffering  just  like  she  is  helps  the  feeling  of  numbness  (  and  faye  will  tell  herself  it  is  because  there  can  only  be  one  blonde  faerie  ⸻  and  she  is  so  clearly  the  better  choice  ⸻  and  leave  out  the  part  about  the  relief  of  someone  knowing  exactly  what  goes  inside  her  mind  ).  eyebrow  raises  and  hazel  eyes  meet  his  own,  only  for  a  moment.  "i  was  not  offering,  fionn."  another  sip,  attention  stolen  back  by  nothing  at  all.  faye  scoffs  at  her  companion's  words,  head  shaking  at  how  silly  he  sounds.  "i  thought  you  were  smarter  than  this,  my  companion  in  blonde.  you  and  i  both  know  i  am  not  that  easy  to  get  rid  off.  and  who  else  would  keep  this  town  interesting?"

      a whole day of lurking ultimately capitulated into a bed of unsuccess. perhaps it wasn't smart to play look-see all day instead of attending to matters otherwise productive in comparison. he had lurked around the main enclave all day, examining the faces of each passerby to hopefully absorb their current state of mind. guilty ? innocent ? mourning ? a mix, even ? regardless, he was dully disappointed — karmic retribution for nosing in everybody's business. if he couldn't get his fill then, perhaps trifling with a familiar blonde would help mustardseed feel, well, something.

      he crouched down beside them, an exasperated, dramatic as ever sigh poking at the ears of anyone nearby. fionn has never said he wasn't one for theatrics, especially during a lull that felt so painfully lackluster. " i'm not exactly the type to beg for warm beer — even i'm not that desperate yet — but i appreciate your gracious offer, my companion in blonde. " a flat palm to his chest in faux earnest, much of this simply gilded in irony. despite jests, even her presence alone was far more satisfying than the past eight hours, so he leaned back, hands resting flat against the concrete behind him, gaze following the direction faye's attention pointed towards. " so, what're you doin' out here, all by your lonesome ? don't you know there's a big, bad killer out there ? maybe they're especially desperate for a drink right now. "

Havana Rose Liu via welovecoco on Instagram, 05/23/2023