#bones and capes are some of my favorite things to draw.

[rabbit-harpist]

watercolor of missa, receiving rose’s blessing.

inspired by a fic by @factorialsotherfandoms. the roses on his hand are meant to be twined like the protection charm phil made him there.

[randomvarious]

1990s Trip Hop Playlist

Been six months since I added anything to this fly-as-fuck playlist, and this week I've got a bunch of heady, spaced-out, and super stoned treats for you all. For this update, I ended up drawing from three separate releases: Ninja Cuts: Flexistentialism, a terrific comp from 1996 that was put out by premier UK trip hop, hip hop, downtempo, and future jazz label Ninja Tune; French native Kid Loco's brilliant DJ-Kicks mix from 1999 that was put out by Germany's !K7 label; and a varied South African comp that was put out by national indie label Fresh Records in 1998 called ReRooted: Beatz From da Ground Up.

So let's highlight some sweet goodies from all of these then. First up, "Junkies Bad Trip" by London Funk Allstars, a quintessential piece of head-nodding mid-90s boom bap dope that sounds like it's waiting for your favorite New York rapper's favorite New York rapper to spit some crazy fire over it. When it comes to instrumental trip hop and hip hop-type shit, there's really nothing in my mind that tops something like this tune right here; a big sonic bluntski with two pretty iconic samples in it: one from Baby Huey's "Hard Times," which gives the song its frenzied, metallic, whistling stabs, and has been used in a whole bunch of other rap tunes too; and a funky guitar riff from James Brown's "Blind Men Can See It," which was also famously used in Das EFX's 1992 classic, "They Want EFX" as well. Currently at around 252K plays on Spotify.

Next, something really cool from that ReRooted comp by a band from Cape Town called Naked, who only ever put out one album, 1998's Bone Needs Flesh. Here they offer up a tune called "Wash Your Hands (Stone Cold remix)," which employs this really unique blend of chopped-up vocals, heavy breathing, and sharp, acidic bass stabs, as a couple different effects are applied to frontwoman Kaolin Thompson's voice. This one seems pretty damn obscure, as it's currently sitting at under 1,000 plays on Spotify. It's terrific, though.

And for some pure fuckin' THC-induced nuttery, there's "Attitude Adjuster" by Essex, England's own Tom Tyler. Appearing on Kid Loco's DJ-Kicks mix, this 1999 leftfield stunner's marked by a very imposing, dissonantly wobbly, and bleating horn sound, with a dubbed-out drumbeat beneath it, and all of it anchored by a super chill and steady synth pad to mellow and balance the whole thing out. A simply bananas piece of music that was made to satiate your crusty-eyed inner insomniac at 3:46 in the morning. Currently at a little over 4,000 Spotify plays.

9 Lazy 9 - "Turn Me Loose" Jazz Con Bazz - "Wayz of Life" Luke Vibert - "Get Your Head Down" Up, Bustle & Out - "Ninja's Principality" London Funk Allstars - "Junkies Bad Trip" DJ Vadim - "Theme From Conquest of the Irrational (Remix by The Prunes)" Pelding - "One" Naked - "Wash Your Hands (Stone Cold remix)" Boards of Canada - "Happy Cycling" Tom Tyler - "Attitude Adjuster" Kid Loco - "Flyin' on 747"

Now, something else I should mention is that the YouTube version of this playlist includes all of these songs too, but a bunch of the versions that are specifically from Kid Loco's DJ-KIcks mix are as they appear on the mix itself, which is a little different from how they sound unmixed on Spotify, except for the set's sweet and serene closer, "Flyin' on 747."

But in addition to that, this YouTube update also comes with some songs from that DJ-Kicks mix that aren't on Spotify at all too, like something from a London collective called Common Ground, whose 1998 song, "Dark Soul," has some piano-and-string bits that might remind you a little of something like the theme song from Succession—a show that came 20 years after this very song dropped—but this tune, like so many others in this update, is also very fucking stoned; it has this Mike Oldfield Tubular Bells-like opening, some plonking xylo, and some slow and incremental, scale-climbing vocals to mark its 'chorus' too. An absolute, unheralded banger as far as I'm concerned, and currently only nearing 1,900 plays on YouTube across a couple different uploads.

Emperors New Clothes - "Dark Light (Underdog Mix)" Grantby - "Grimble" Tongue - "Culture Consumers" Common Ground - "Dark Soul" Stereotyp - "Slo Jo"

And this playlist is also on YouTube Music.

So with this update we're now at 46 songs that clock in at 4 hours and 5 minutes on Spotify, but over on YouTube, we've got 76 songs that clock in at 7 hours and 2 minutes! So if you want more dank 90s trip hop than you know what to do with, then do yourself a favor and pick the YouTube one.

And if 7 hours and change or 4 hours and change sounds like way too overwhelming of an amount of trip hop for you to handle, I've got a bunch of this broken down by year too:

1994 Trip Hop: YouTube / YouTube Music 1996 Trip Hop: Spotify / YouTube / YouTube Music 1997 Trip Hop: YouTube / YouTube Music 1998 Trip Hop: YouTube / YouTube Music 1999 Trip Hop: YouTube / YouTube Music

More trip hop next week, but from a certain locality 😎.

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

[mssirey]

Some agentreign, with a tattoo artist Alex! 

Alex knew the roughly sketched symbol, of course. How could she not recognize the insignia of the character her sister played on her show—the campy series with its sometimes shallow commentary or ham-fisted allegories of the world, but that left enough room for interpretation that lent to a beloved view of its main cast. 

When Alex glanced up at the woman who had booked her afternoon slot, there seemed nothing outwardly fan-ish about her—her aesthetic one of corporate power, her blazer a sharp cut from a designer Alex couldn’t be bothered to know the name of, her palette choices bold, but smart—not someone she would have read as having much time for fun. But then, Kara was much the same, and she knew better about how deeply her sister loved being a part of a show about superheroes. 

“My daughter really loves the show,” the woman offered with a little wave of her hand at the drawing, a jittery air around her, as if she anticipated the judgment she might face, “and Supergirl is her favorite character, of course!” She laughed, a short puff exhaled as her shoulders sagged and her hand returned to ring together with her other. “She said I was her Supergirl the other day, and if you knew how much she loves the character—“

Alex stopped her then, a gentle smile touching her lips. “That is a beautiful base for a tattoo,” she assured. She stepped forward, reached out without thinking, hand covering the nervous twist of fingers, warm against her palm. That close, she realized how tall the woman was—especially as her shoulders pulled back and she straightened up just a little. 

Alex almost withdrew her hand as the woman’s teeth clacked sharply together. She watched lashes flutter over warm chocolate eyes as they dropped to where their hands touched, lingering while their breath was held as one. 

“Wow— ” one hand pulled free of hers, Alex’s stomach ready to turn, only for fingers to run so gingerly over her own skin—from wrist up her forearm—drawing her gaze down to the full sleeve of ink that she had poured her own heart into, disappearing beneath the once-tidy cuff of her shirt, since stained with the efforts of the day. “Your tattoos are… so…” she had heard all manner of words to describe the art she wore—everything from ‘intense’ to ‘troubling’—rarely a favorable opinion coming from someone who wasn’t an enthusiast, “catching.”

Alex swallowed as those fingers traced a line of color, meant to accentuate the form of the figures at the center of the design—both a representation of herself, stood back to back; one stripped down to blood and bone; the other painted in an unnatural light, too ‘perfect’, meeting all the expectations placed on her, shackles on her wrists and chains weighing down her shoulders. 

“I designed it myself,” she said the first thing to come to mind, her eyes almost rolling at her own lack of wit. 

“I really like it,” the woman commented before seeming to realize how long she had been touching Alex, her hand jerking upward, a marvelous warmth reaching her cheeks. 

They parted, a full pace put between them by the time Alex found the breath to offer her thanks. 

“So, um, did you just want the insignia?” Alex held up the sketch to bring them back to business. 

The woman faltered, a plea writing itself into her expression. “Well, um, so, you might be able to tell, but I’m not much of an artist,” she exhaled, a laugh bubbling up after, plucking at the chords of Alex’s heart. “I know I want to use the symbol, but I… I don’t know what else to include.”

Alex chuckled along with her. “That’s alright,” she assured. “Come on, let me stretch a few ideas for you,” she waved for the woman to follow her, leading them to her drawing table. The sigh of relief she heard tickled up her spine, and she had to resist shivering. 

Drawing on little bits of knowledge she had picked up from Kara, Alex started with a simple base, offering the traditional symbol along with a few alternate designs—some softer, some sharper, some with broken or doubled lines to add a bit of extra dimension—before getting into a range of accenting options. 

The woman was vocal with her thoughts as she looked over Alex’s shoulder, humming approving notes when something stood out to her, or commenting on the touches she liked, allowing Alex to easily evolve the piece. There was particular interest when she mentioned the phrase ‘el mayarah’ and explained its meaning. 

“Oh! Ruby has definitely said that before,” she gushed, the happy little sigh that accompanied the words tugging at the corners of Alex’s lips, her grin so effortless. “We should definitely include that!” 

It wasn’t long before they had a final design— staying true to the show’s version of the insignia and incorporating both ‘el mayarah’ and the script of the language used by Supergirl, wreathed by a flowy, cape-like backing. 

“This will likely take two visits— one for the linework and base coat, and then another for the detailing. Is that okay?” She certainly wouldn’t be sad to see the woman again and grinned when she agreed. “You said you were hoping to have this on your back,” Alex prompted as she led the woman to her station. 

“Over my heart, yeah,” she confirmed.

“I really like it,” Alex echoed the words spoken to her, and she genuinely meant it. She loved the way the woman talked about her daughter, how every word ran deep with love, how cherished the little girl was. 

“Is there anything I should know... going in?” There was a surge of nervousness buzzing in the air as the woman shrugged out of her jacket, folding it neatly over the chair at Alex’s desk. 

There was a moment—as Alex watched buttons slipping free of their holes—that she forgot herself, staring longer than might have been polite before she busied herself with putting on her gloves and arranging her inks. “Mostly that when I’m over your ribs, you will feel it,” she sucked in a sympathetic breath. “But, I’ll be gentle, and you can always take a break, if you need.”

She waved the woman toward the chair, turning away as she divested her bra and slid into place against the padding. 

“Comfortable?” She got only a nod before she pulled up her own stool. “Relax,” she coaxed, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s back. “I’ll take good care of you and you can swear all you like.” 

“Glad to know it.”

As Alex had warned, the woman did feel it. Her breath hissed through her teeth, a sharp inhale that tugged at her, but then she relaxed beneath Alex’s hand. “Good girl.” The words slipped out before she could think to question them, and her own breath caught in her lungs, her gun lifting away from the woman’s skin. There was a soft shiver and then stillness, the barest whimper bubbling out of the woman. 

Alex could have perished. The woman was so pliant beneath her, and it took everything to concentrate on the design. But she leaned into that soft praise, continued to encourage her to stay loose, and things went very well—hardly needing to hold the woman still and working straight through without a break. And in the end, she did manage to finish the whole piece, running only slightly overtime. 

There was a little disappointment knowing that she likely wouldn’t see the woman again. “If you need any touch-ups, you can always reach out,” she offered. 

“Thank you,” the woman said as she gingerly slipped back into her jacket. She bent over Alex’s desk, scribbling something down on the sketchpad with all the trial drawings. “Maybe we could get dinner some time,” she nodded down at the page, where her number was scrawled. 

“I’d like that,” Alex grinned, excitement blooming in her chest. The woman’s name was also there on the page. “Then, I’ll see you later, Sam.”

“I look forward to it, Alex.” The sentiment echoed through her for days, accompanied with the image of Sam’s haughty little smirk. 

[recurring-polynya]

[Renji birthday] Hey, hi. What about Orihime does smt to surprise Renji for his birthday, a thank-you him helping her at New Year celebration? Include fireworks that Renji secretly enjoys? Thanks. Anything (fic, hcs, sketch..) is fine.

I’m sorry this is late, but it’s still the Renji - Orihime Birthday Weekend, so I think it’s okay!

I love the idea of the Renji - Orihime BroTP, but somehow it’s so hard for me to write, I always do a bunch of false starts or get stuck. For this round of prompts, I was trying to do the ones that inspired me the most and I liked the idea a lot more than I had ideas, if you get my drift. Anyway, I love them both too much, though, so I muscled through.

I’m sorry if this is a little ramble-y and quite silly and I didn’t manage to squeeze in fireworks (I’ve written several fireworks scenes in the past and didn’t want to repeat myself), but what it is is four thousand words long. Also, I managed to remember that Kon exists, this is possibly the first time I have ever put Kon in anything. I hope you like it!

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🎁    🎈    🎊

“Inoue,” Renji hissed. “Why am I here?”

Orihime took a quick step backwards as Keigo ran past, screaming. Ryo followed a second later, also screaming. Renji, who had served at Squad 11 for many years, managed to leap out of the way just in time. “It’s Ichigo’s birthday party,” Orihime explained. “He wanted you to come.”

“It’s not though,” Renji pressed. “It’s Arisawa’s birthday, and we’re at Arisawa’s house. I don’t think Arisawa even knows who I am.”

“Yes, she does, silly,” Orihime replied. “I told her lots of stories about you and she said she wanted you to come. There’ll probably be a football match later, and Ichigo told her we could have you on our team, as long as he got Rukia.”

“I got hauled in all the way from Soul Society for football?” Renji asked, sounding not-at-all upset about this.

“No, I told you! Ichigo wanted you to come.”

“But it’s not his birthday.”

“But it is his party. He and Tatsuki share, you see, because their birthdays are so close and they have all the same friends. It’s Tatsuki’s year to host the big friend party. Ichigo just had a little family party on his actual birthday.”

“Ohhhhh,” Renji replied, finally understanding. He nodded for a moment. “What’s a family party?”

---

Orihime cleared her throat, and tapped her in her palm. “Thank you all for coming to this very important meeting.”

Chad, Ichigo, and Tatsuki were all crammed together on Orihime’s couch. Rukia sat on the arm, next to Chad, Kon in her lap. Uryuu sat in Orihime’s desk chair, which she had hauled in from her room.

Orihime thwapped her pointer against the large pad of paper on an easel that she had borrowed from the Student Health Advisors Club. On the first page, she had drawn a large picture of Renji and written his name. “It has come to my attention that Our Friend Renji has never had a Family Birthday Party.”

“Quick question--” Tatsuki interrupted. “Is he wearing a… fur bolero in that picture? And is the bone dragon an actual thing or just...Orihime artistic spice?”

“It’s a cowl,” Rukia said, at the same time as Chad said, “It’s a stole,” and Uryuu said “It’s a capelet.”

“Thank you, that cleared up nothing,” Tatsuki replied.

“It’s his bankai form,” Ichigo said, grumpily. “His sword turns into a giant flying snake skeleton that screams like a pterodactyl. It’s super sick and he let me ride on it twice and that cape thing is really soft, actually, but he says it gets hot. As far as I know it has nothing to do with his birthday.”

“Er, no, I just got carried away while I was drawing,” Orihime admitted. “Your bankai is very cool, too, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Got it, right,” Tatsuki nodded, sounding very much like she just wanted to move on. “He doesn’t have a family?”

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Orihime,” Rukia said, sounding a teensy bit defensive. “Many people in Soul Society don’t have families. If there’s anyone in Soul Society who’s good at scraping up friends to spend a holiday with, it’s Renji. Everyone likes him. Half the Gotei turns up at the bar for his birthday parties.”

“I know that,” Orihime said quietly. “I know that because last New Year’s, when I was lonely, he played badminton with me, even though he was very, very hungover and pretending like he wasn’t, and then he went and rounded up all my friends in the middle of the night, and before he left, he told me there was nothing wrong with making your own holiday. But family birthdays are different! Family birthdays are about the people who love you most doing special things, just for you!” Orihime set her jaw. “When I was little, Sora always tried to make my birthdays super special! We didn’t have a lot of extra money, but he would take the day off just to spend it with me and we would go to the park or watch movies or he would let me paint his nails and braid his hair. He would take a picture of me and put it in my special birthday album with my height and weight and current favorite food.” Orihime’s mouth snapped shut. Everyone was staring at her. She’d said too much, just like she always did. Her cheeks started to burn.

“When I was little,” Ichigo suddenly said, a little bit too loud, “my mom told us that we could have whatever we wanted for dinner on our birthdays. One year, I…” he paused, his eyes darting over to Tatsuki. “I had just seen Kiki’s Delivery Service, and I was obsessed with that fish and pumpkin casserole the old lady makes?”

Orihime gasped, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Uryuu rolled his eyes. “Who wasn’t, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo snorted, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “Anyway, it took her most of the day, and I think she must’ve gotten really frustrated at some point because me and my sisters got sent over to Tatsuki’s house so the Old Man could help her. It came out kind of lumpy and huge, but it was delicious, it was exactly what I had imagined it would taste like.”

“I remember that thing,” Tatsuki added. “She made us come over for dinner because there was so much of it. It was incredible.”

“We didn’t do Birthday Dinners for a few years after she died,” Ichigo said slowly. “But then after Yuzu got good at cooking, she said she wanted to try doing it again. My dad really likes the Godfather movies and he always used to ask for spaghetti for his birthday, which it turns out isn’t that hard to make. Karin and me helped out, and we’ve been doing it again ever since. We don’t usually do fancy stuff, it’s just nice to get to pick.”

“Ichigo made me omurice on my birthday and let me use his body to eat it!” Kon announced.

“You didn’t have to tell everyone that,” Ichigo stammered, turning pink. “It’s the only thing I’m good at making.”

“My abuelo always used to sing Las Mañanitas on my birthday,” Chad put in. “First thing in the morning. Sometimes he would come into my room and wake me up. Sometimes I would come down for breakfast and he would be there, with his guitar. He wouldn’t even say ‘good morning’ until he’d sung Las Mañanitas.”

Orihime’s spirits lifted a little. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

Rukia crossed her arms over her chest. “Renji gets up at the crack of dawn. I’m certainly not going over to his place to sing at him while he mixes up his horrible protein beverages.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have to be exactly that,” Orihime went on. “I just thought, since his birthday was coming up in a few weeks, maybe we could throw him a party here, in the World of the Living that was… I don’t know… a little more heartfelt than just going out drinking.”

“I think that’s a very thoughtful idea, Inoue,” Uryuu said.

“Oh! I was worried you wouldn’t want to help, because… you know.”

“I had a row with Ryuuken last week,” Uryuu sniffed. “I’m honestly in the mood to do something nice for a shinigami. Besides, it’s Abarai, he doesn’t really count anymore.” He paused for a moment. “You either, of course, Kuchiki.”

“You wanna have it at my house?” Ichigo offered. “Since me and Tatsuki are the only ones with backyards, and I don’t imagine Tatsuki would want to explain this to her mom.”

“I appreciate that,” Tatsuki put in. “I can help though, if you want. In my family, we like to decorate, and I still have a bunch of streamers and balloons left over from last week.” She gestured at Orihime’s drawing. “We could probably make him a banner or something out of that. It’s pretty good!”

“Oh, that’s such a good idea!” Orihime exclaimed. She should have known her friends would be helpful. She flipped to a new page on her notepad, and began to write things down.

“I can help decorate!” Kon piped up. “I am very artistic, you know!”

“I can bring my guitar,” Chad offered. “I don’t know if Abarai wants to hear me sing…”

Ichigo shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut up. We always want to hear you sing and you never do. If Renji doesn’t want to hear you sing, he’s got no taste and also, he can suck it.”

Rukia rubbed her forehead, like she felt a headache coming on. “Renji goes to all his friends’ poetry readings and community theater and open mic nights. I am sure he would be overjoyed to be serenaded by Chad.”

“What about you, Uryuu?” Orihime asked. “I know you and your father don’t get along, but is there anything that you associate with feeling special on your birthday?”

Uryuu’s face contorted for a moment. “Ah, there is, but I’m sure it’s not helpful.”

“Maybe it will give us an idea,” Chad prodded.

Uryuu frowned. “Well, when I was very small, my mother used to make me a new kimono every year. She was… a very skilled seamstress.” He frowned. “I don’t have Abarai’s measurements, and besides, he couldn’t take it back to Soul Society anyway.”

Kon perked up. “Ichigo! Ichigo, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Ichigo jabbed a finger Uryuu. “Yuzu just got a bedazzler and she has a ton of t-shirt paint! We could bedazzle him a t-shirt! For his gigai! I’ll even keep it in my closet for him with all of Rukia’s crap!”

“Kurosaki, no,” Uryuu insisted.

“Kurosaki, yes,” Ichigo insisted. “It’s like you’ve never even met the man. I’m gonna make the most Renji t-shirt you’ve ever seen and he’s gonna love it so hard he’ll make me his new best friend.”

“I want to help,” Chad put in.

“You may,” Ichigo replied magnanimously.

“It was my idea-- whoa, Rukia, watch out!” Kon cried as he went tumbling to the ground.

Rukia was practically crawling over Chad, trying to punch Ichigo in the head. “He’s my best friend, you ass!”

“He is for now,” Ichigo replied ominously.

“You are my beloved protege, but I will end you, Kurosaki.”

“Kuchiki-san?” Orihime asked tentatively. “Do you think you could come up with a way to get him to come here? I think it should be a surprise, so you would probably have to make up a story...I understand if you don’t want to.”

Rukia looked up from where she was half-hanging over Chad’s shoulder. “Of course I can do that. I love lying to Renji. He can usually tell when I’m lying to him, but he’ll go along with whatever I say anyway.”

“Oh, good!” Orihime replied, a wave of relief washing over her. She had no idea how they would get Renji here otherwise. Mr. Urahara, maybe. Maybe.

Rukia’s brows creased as she rearranged herself to sit on the back of the couch between Chad and Ichigo. “Did you think I would say no?”

“Well… it didn’t seem like you thought this was a very good idea.”

Rukia’s cheeks colored and she waved her hands. “No, no! It’s not that at all! I think it’s a great idea! It’s really sweet of all of you. Renji’s so easy-going, people always… never mind! I’ll help however I can!”

“Try to find out what meal he might like,” Uryuu suggested. Kon was now sitting on his head. “That sounded nice and I can help cook.”

“That’s a no-brainer,” Rukia replied. “He hasn’t stopped talking about Chad’s burritos since the Advance Team mission ended.”

“Burritos are easy,” Chad agreed, “especially if Uryuu helps.”

“What about you, Rukia?” Tatsuki asked. “You have a brother, right? What do you do for family birthdays in Soul Society?”

Ichigo made a Big Yikes face, and Rukia shoved him in the head again. Orihime had stayed with the Kuchiki siblings when she was training in Soul Society, and while Byakuya could be pretty stiff, she was under the impression that he and Rukia were both working to have a better relationship.

“Kuchiki birthdays are very formal,” Rukia said regally, and then frowned. “Mostly, a bunch of Honored Relatives come over for dinner and you have to wear fancy clothes and it’s kind of a pain.” She thought for a moment. “Brother gave me a beautiful set of colored pencils for my last birthday. It’s hard to buy him presents, because he’s so particular and he usually just buys the things that he wants. He writes a lot of letters, though, so I went to my favorite stationery store and bought him some pretty paper I thought he would like. I figured that if I picked wrong, he could just use it to send letters to people he hates.” Rukia’s eyes softened. “He really liked it, actually. I guess he’s not very used to getting gifts that people have spent any time thinking about.”

“Thoughtful gifts are such a nice idea!” Orihime nodded eagerly.

“It’s hard, though,” Uryuu added, “because of the whole matter conversion issue.”

“What,” Ichigo bit off, “is not thoughtful about a t-shirt covered in rhinestones?”

“If all of you help me think of something, I will buy it for him back in Soul Society,” Rukia promised. “Not sunglasses, though. I already bought him sunglasses.”

“Isn’t his birthday, like a month away?” Ichigo frowned.

“Sometimes I plan ahead! Shut up!” Rukia scowled. “Brother and I also like to make each other cards. Brother is an amazing artist, obviously, mine hardly compare to his, but he is very gracious about my efforts.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea, Rukia!” Orihime agreed, writing down “cards” on her notes. She looked over her list. “I think this is shaping up to be a very good birthday!”

---

“Thanks for agreeing to come along,” Rukia said to Renji when he showed up at her front door on the morning of August 31. “How’s your head?”

“I feel great, but I hydrate tirelessly and also, I wasn’t the one who got into a drinking contest with Captain Komamura. How’s your head?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rukia replied.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just go? I’m sure I can-- did I read your text right? Ichigo got his soul stuck in Kon’s lion body and we have to go get him out? I… can probably handle that if you need to stay home and sleep it off.”

“Learn to read, oaf. Ichigo got his soul stuck in Kon’s lion body and we are going to laugh at him. Obviously, I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”

“Ahhhh, okay, that makes a lot more sense!”

“C’mon, we should get moving before Orihime takes pity on him or something.” She waved him inside. “Don’t worry, Brother said it was fine to use the family senkaimon.”

“Ah, good morning, Captain!” Renji said, his voice bright with nervous energy.

Rukia turned around and blinked. Sure enough, Byakuya was looming in the foyer. He had definitely not been in the entry thirty seconds ago.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Byakuya replied. “How delightful to see you in my house on a Sunday morning.”

“Brother, we talked about this,” Rukia pressed. “We had a whole discussion.”

Byakuya ignored her and plowed on. “I did not expect to see you today, but since you are here, I have something for you.” He held out a handsome, hardcover book. Gingerly, Renji accepted it and frowned at the cover. “It is the next book in the Tales of the Iron Army series,” Byakuya explained. “You are a fan of that series, are you not?”

Renji’s mouth gaped a little. “This isn’t… out… yet…”

“The publisher is an acquaintance of mine,” Byakuya said, looking off into the middle distance. “He offered me an advance copy, so I asked for two.”

“Uh, um, thanks, sir!” Renji managed.

“Think nothing of it,” Byakuya said stiffly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am extremely busy this morning.”

Rukia stared, gape-mouthed at the spot where Byakuya had been standing a moment previous. She wasn’t allowed to use shunpo in the house.

“What?” Renji choked out.

“Sometimes people just give him things,” Rukia shrugged, trying to play it off, but secretly fuming. She had told Byakuya that Renji was coming over and to (1) not mention his birthday and (2) not be weird. 0 for 2, Brother.

“Rukia,” Renji reiterated, and when she finally looked over, he was holding up a little slip of cardstock that had apparently been tucked into the front cover of the book. On it was painted a little watercolor Wakame Ambassador. He was wearing a humorous hat. In Byakuya’s immaculate calligraphy were the words ‘Congratulations. You are now older. You will still never defeat me.’ Renji stared at Rukia, as if this were somehow her fault. “W-h-a-t?” he mouthed very slowly and deliberately, no actual sound coming out of his mouth.

“Give me that!” Rukia snapped, grabbing both the book and the card out of his hand. “I told him we were going to the Living World, I don’t know why he couldn’t have given you this when we got back. Mikan!”

Rukia’s loyal maid immediately appeared at her elbow. “Yes, miss?”

Renji blinked. “How does everyone in this house move like that?”

“Hold onto this for Renji until we get back, okay? You can put it with the, um, other stuff.”

“Yes, miss.”

“What other stuff?” Renji asked, a grin tugging at the side of his mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just said ‘put it with the other stuff’?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You must have misheard, Lieutenant Abarai,” Mikan added sweetly.

“Maybe you should clean your ears out once in a while, dummy,” Rukia suggested.

“Are we really going to the Living World today, or was it just a ploy to get me over here?” Renji asked, doing a double take when he realized that Mikan had disappeared again.

“We’re really going!” Rukia protested, marching into the bowels of the house. “‘A ploy’, ha! You wish.”

“It is my birthday,” Renji pointed out, sounding a little suspicious.

“And we had your birthday party last night! What more do you want?”

“Nothing, actually! Very good birthday, as birthdays go!” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. “As if I wouldn’t come.”

Renji shrugged. “Well…you didn’t, for a long time. And those weren’t as fun. So thanks. For coming.”

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. She didn’t know what to say to that.

Fortunately, Renji had a keen instinct for changing the subject when things got awkward. “Were you there when Rangiku’s boob fell out? She says that since it was the right one, it’s a sign that this is going to be an auspicious year for me.”

“I did! I was talking to Momo and we were basically at Ground Zero when it happened! I can’t believe Hisagi was in the restroom.”

“He’s probably still sobbing about it.”

They continued to recap the best parts of the party as they traveled through the senkaimon and picked up their gigai from Urahara’s, but there was something nagging at Rukia, something that had been nagging at her ever since Orihime, with her giant, squishy heart, had suggested that Renji deserved something better on his birthday, something which Rukia knew was unequivocally true.

“Oi, Renji,” she said suddenly as they turned onto Ichigo’s street. Renji was in the middle of a story about Iba’s sideburns, but she’d heard it before, and they both knew he was only telling it to fill the time.

“Eh?” he replied.

“I, uh, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry that our birthdays were so shitty growing up,” she said quickly. “Sorry in the sympathy sense, not the guilt sense. We were just kids, it’s not like there’s much more we could have done. Just... it sucked and it’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

Renji was staring at her with a look of mild horror on his face. “You thought our birthdays sucked?”

Rukia stared back at him. “They weren’t great, that’s for sure.”

Renji’s face fell a little. “Oh. I’m sorry you feel that way. We… we did try, you know. I remember stealing blankets for your birthday, to make sure we had enough for all of us. We always used to try to make sure we had something to eat that day, too.”

Rukia flushed. “I wasn’t talking about me, dummy!” She paused. “You did? Crap. Now I feel even worse.”

“My birthday’s in August,” Renji shrugged. “We didn’t need to worry about freezing our asses off. And we almost always managed to do something fun that day. Going fishing or making a bonfire or lying on the roof and looking at the stars.” Renji gave a rueful little chuckle. “You know, it’s fun when everyone gets together to get smashed on my birthday, but there are so many people and you can hardly hear what anyone is saying. Those old days… I dunno. I guess maybe they just felt a little more personal. When we were here on Tatsuki and Ichigo’s birthday, Orihime was telling me about family birthdays, and I think our old birthdays were a lot like that. Just some nice time spent with the people I like best.”

“You’re such a sap,” Rukia said, trying to keep her voice from wobbling.

“Like you didn’t know that,” Renji snorted. “I’m definitely gonna give Ichigo a hard time, but I’m actually kinda glad he managed to pull this bonehead move on my actual birthday. It’s a good excuse to come see him, and I got to spend a little quality time with you, to boot. Was kinda nice to see the captain, actually, even though he made a quick exit.” Renji sucked his teeth for a moment. “After we get Ichigo sorted, I don’t ‘spose you’d mind taking a little stroll around town and seeing what the other kids are up to today?”

Rukia had her hand on the gate that led to the Kurosaki back yard. “That… could probably be arranged.” She pushed the gate open.

“SURPRISE!”

Confetti filled the air. Someone was blowing an air horn. Everyone (except Uryuu) was wearing very bedazzled t-shirts. Even Kon, sitting on Chad’s shoulder, wore a tiny one with an even tinier lion on it.

“Happy birthday, Renji!”

“Happy birthday, you old geezer!”

“We made you burritos!”

Rukia looked up at Renji. He had one hand clapped over his mouth and his eyes were wide. “Happy birthday, dumbass,” she said softly.

“Excuse me, I will be right back,” Renji said, turning on his heel and walking out the gate.

Orihime’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! What did we do?”

Rukia held up her hands. “Just give him a second, he’s fine.”

The Karakura kids barely had time to exchange worried glances when Renji burst back in through the gate, at full volume. “What the Hell is this?” he roared. “And where did you get those t-shirts?”

“We made them!” Ichigo shouted back, and thrust a poorly wrapped bundle into Renji’s hands. “We made you one, too!”

Renji enthusiastically tore open his present and held up its contents. “Rukia,” he gasped. “Rukia, look.”

“Chad drew the Hihiou Zabimaru,” Ichigo explained proudly. “I was the one who wrote ‘OH YEAH!!’”

“It’s so beautiful,” Renji sniffed. “Here, Rukia, hold this!” He shoved the shirt into Rukia’s arms and immediately began to wrestle off the one he was currently wearing.

“Uh… buddy…” Tatsuki frowned, trying to throw her hand up in front of Orihime’s eyes, but also unable to tear her eyes away. “That is… a lot… of tattoos…”

“It’s okay, we’ve all seen it,” Orihime reassured her, pushing Tatsuki’s hand away.

“Never mind seeing it again,” Kon added philosophically.

“How does it look?” Renji asked, once he’d gotten dressed again. He was flexing his biceps for good measure.

“It’s a little tight,” Rukia replied, but it didn’t stop her from looking.

“That’s how hot people wear their clothes, Rukia,” Ichigo informed her. “Get with it.”

“I love this so much!” Renji declared, looking down at his own torso again. “I can’t believe you all made this for me. I am so happy!”

“Brace yourself, Abarai,” Uryuu said, “but this is about 1% of the birthday festivities Orihime planned for you.”

Orihime’s cheeks turned pink and she waved her hands frantically. “Everyone chipped in, I hardly did anything!”

“We know you don’t like cake, so we put a candle in a burrito for you,” Ichigo said, jerking his thumb toward the picnic table. “Come sit in front of it, so Chad can sing you your birthday song.”

“We saved you the lawn chair without any wobbly legs,” Kon added generously.

On his way past, Renji slung his arm around Orihime’s shoulders. “Thanks, kid,” he murmured.

Orihime looked up at him. “You’re our friend and I just wanted you to know how special we think you are on your birthday.”

Renji stared at her for a moment, an expression on his face like he wasn’t sure how to make words come out. Suddenly, he tightened his elbow around his neck and crashed the knuckles of his other hand fiercely into her scalp. “I love all of you, too!” he laughed.

“You can’t noogie Orihime!” Ichigo and Tatsuki yelled at the same time, and promptly tripped over each other in an attempt to tackle him. Uryuu flung a pinecone at Renji’s head. With his typical perfect aim, it would have been a direct hit, except that Kon had leapt from Chad’s shoulder directly into its trajectory and got beaned in the face instead.

Orihime was laughing and shouting “That tickles, that tickles!” Renji was cackling. Chad stood, dumbfounded, his guitar hanging around his neck.

“Rukia… avenge us…” Ichigo groaned from the ground.

“On one hand, it’s his birthday and Renji should get to noogie whomever he wants,” Rukia declared loftily. “On the other hand, Orihime is a precious angel. On the third hand, suck it, Abarai!”

She launched herself at him.

[fericita-s]

Epilogue

The end has arrived for the A Mansion House Murder!

Big thanks to all the writers of this quarantine round-robin: @jomiddlemarch, who had the idea to begin with and wrote so many good chapters, @broadwaybaggins and @sagiow who dragged us all across the finish line, and @mercurygray and @tortoisesshells for their wonderful chapters and effusive comments and @the-spaztic-fantastic for the faithful beta-ing. I think this story probably set a record on AO3 for the comments to kudos ratio.  300 comments and 20 kudos?! We are a chatty bunch.  And I love it.

“Thank you, Belinda.  For so much. Not just today,” Emma said from the doorway.  Belinda hadn’t invited her in and Emma didn’t want to assume.  She’d already assumed too much about Belinda’s desires, or discounted them completely. “I’m going to see Mother and explain about Jimmy.  And Frank.”

Belinda looked to Emma’s arm looped through Henry’s, to the pale circle of white around her ring finger where a wedding ring had been.  “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, Belinda. I won’t ask that of you. I just wanted to tell you all of that myself before you hear it gossiped about.” 

“Well,” said Belinda, a smile turning one corner of her mouth. “I think I’d like to see her take the news.”

“Even if she asks you for laudanum?” Emma asked, matching her smile. It was a sad thing to tell her mother that her brother was arrested, her husband dead, her sister currently in hysterics that Percival was trying to soothe with one arm while signing away the family hotel to Mrs. Morris with the other.  It was sad. But the lightness and laughter kept rising in her chest and she couldn’t stop smiling over the freedom she felt and the relief that she would be leaving soon.

“I can tell her where to find it if she does,” said Belinda, reaching to the peg by the door for a shawl.

***

“It’s a fair price,” Anne said, though she knew it was a bargain. She also knew how desperate they were to sell and she knew what being desperate felt like, so she didn’t push further. Emma, at least, deserved the money and Anne was eager to send it to her.  Anne had more money than she could spend and Charlotte’s idea for a school was the first thing to excite her about the future since Frederick’s death.  They could scrub the blood out of the walls, purge the secrets from each closet.  The Greens had done it once before.  Anne was determined she and Leah and the Diggs would do it even better. Bridget too, if she could persuade her.  

Percival nodded and might have shaken her hand, but his arms were currently around his wife who was crying.  Anne couldn’t tell if Alice was genuinely grief-stricken and whether it was for the loss of property or the loss of life, and she didn’t much care to find out.  She’d had her fill of mysteries. 

***

    They went to Boston before Williamstown and Mary took her shopping.  In Boston, it was easy to find ready-to-wear, though Mary took her to a favorite tailor and dressmaker and insisted on some pieces made to Emma’s own measurements.  They moved slowly through town, at Mary’s normal pace and Emma’s preferred one for seeing a new city. It wasn’t so different from Alexandria, not really, not until people spoke to her or their eyebrows shot up at her accent. The kid gloves were to guard against the cold more than the sun, and she’d never had nor needed a sealskin toque or fur muff.  But the Yankees weren’t the fearsome lot her mother had promised they would be, practically drowning out the vows she and Henry made to one another in the Green family drawing room with a subdued Dr. Hale doing the honors. 

    After a wool cape and fur-trimmed pelisse that Emma bought with Henry’s money (our money he had said, pressing it into her hands that morning as he kissed her forehead), Mary bought her a silk Paisley shawl with fringe, calling it a wedding present.

“If I was really spoiling you it would be Kashmir.  These are going out of fashion now what with everyone’s desperation to show off their bustles.  But I find them the best way to keep warm at home, at least when Jed’s not there.” Mary pulled the shawl around Emma and fiddled with the fringe. “I hope you’ll be happy here.  I know Henry wishes it too. But I know what it is to lose a husband.”

Emma put her hands in Mary’s and smiled at her friend. “I am happy.  Or, I will be. I’m not sure what I am now, but it’s better than I was.”

***

    He married her in Virginia but, all he had offered since then was a chaste kiss or an arm for hers to loop through as they navigated trains and carriages. Their overnight at the Foster’s home was a late night of reminiscences by the fire, mulled wine, and the steady interruptions of Johnny and Daniel and then even Elias coming to complain about the loud ruckus downstairs.  When Mary finally shooed both the boys and the adults to bed with a meaningful “They’re newlyweds after all, Jed,” Emma and Henry had both hesitated when he shut the door behind them.  

    “You’re weary from the travel; I’ll let you - “

    “Henry,” Emma said, her hands already reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “Don’t make me wait any longer.  Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

    Henry closed his eyes and reached for her cheek, remembering his first touch there years ago. When he had wiped away a tear and wished he could kiss her. 

    “Is it that you don’t want me this way? That I’m - “

    “No, Emma not that.” He opened his eyes and stepped back so he could see her clearly, reaching for her hands and squeezing. “I want you very much. So much I hardly know how to start.”

    “Then let me show you, Henry,” Emma said, pushing on him gently until they were at the bed and he sat down heavily, off balance and out of breath. She nudged his knees open with her own and stood between them, her hands on his shoulders and his at her waist, leaning in to kiss him behind the ear and to whisper “I am my beloved’s and he is mine.”

***

Henry and Emma continued west to Williamstown, waving from the carriage that took them from the Foster home and promising to return soon for a visit and to write even sooner.  One week later the Foster boys welcomed their much desired puppy, and one year later, a rather less desired sister.  Jed’s apprehension turned to delight when Mary reached for her daughter with eager arms, bringing her to her breast and leaning back into the pillows with a laugh.  “There’s two of us now.  Three if you count the dog.  We’ll be evenly matched soon, Mr. Foster.”

Jed washed his hands in the basin and looked at the brightness in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow, walking to her to check for fever. He kissed her forehead and then the baby’s.  “Oh, I’m very happily outmatched already.”

***

Frank didn’t haunt her.  But sometimes her own inaction did. Her complicity. 

The cold of Williamstown was nothing to the bone-chilling terror of life in Franklin County, the shiver of fear she felt as she heard horses whinny in the dark and hooves pound the dirt as Frank and his most loyal congregants rode off to wreak whatever hateful havoc they could. 

In Williamstown, Henry knew how to stoke the fire just so, and soon afterwards the Rumford fireplace in the house was replaced by a coal furnace, the intricate ironwork and decorative finials as fancy as any etched crystal her mother had been proud to show.

She did not long for her life in Virginia and it took a while before Henry’s encouragement to write letters to her mother and sister and Belinda yielded missives sent south.  She hardly wrote to Mary because they visited so often - heading east for Boston meetings of the American Woman Suffrage Association with Mary and her friend Josephine Bhaer and then later to meet baby Penelope Foster.

Emma taught Sunday School and led sewing circles and an auxiliary chapter of the AWSA. She waved to Henry’s students as they walked by their house and he brought her flowers that Alice might have called weeds but Emma would not.

When Henry’s hands were on her, she never thought of Frank. The way he loosened her corset and spread his hands over her stomach and chest, pulling her to him before it was dark and he could see her best, it was uniquely Henry. He had started hesitant and unsure, but she showed him with her sighs and fingers spread across his shoulders and legs wrapped around his middle that she wanted this too, so much.

In the end, all of her new fitted dresses and smartly tailored coats that Mary helped her buy were useless by her second winter as it became clear the Reverend and Mrs. Hopkins would welcome a baby with the spring.

***

The first students at The Lou Morris School knew there were ghosts, and they knew Ms. Leah Gordon took care of them.  They knew there had been a war and they knew about loss.  In their beds, under clean cotton sheets, they whispered about the cries they heard in the night, the thuds and thumps and rhythmic banging.  Laughter too, though only when patrons Doctor and Mrs. Hale came on their weekly tours and Mrs. Diggs walked them to an upstairs room.  The children decided the ghosts liked ornate bustles and lacy flounces like Mrs. Hale wore and drew elaborate flourishes on the pictures they drew of the spirits they imagined. 

But after a few years, no one spoke of ghosts, even though Ms. Gordon still sang at night to calm them and Jack and Harriet had been there the whole time and remembered.  The children knew people came in different colors; the grown-ups said black and white, but to them, they were all brown and beige, with a few pink, with freckles all over their faces, like Miss Brannan. They also knew people had different skills; some spoke with words, others with their hands, and some, not at all. Some could run and jump over the fence they weren’t supposed to jump over, earning a scowl from Old Mrs. Green who seemed to always walk by when they were at play in the yard.  Some could walk with some help, and others had special chairs with wheels that needed to be pushed - slowly! the teachers always said, Mrs. Morris most of all, her eyes all seeing, her tone sharp but never mean.

When the cries in the night and the thumps and thuds sounded, it wasn’t with fear that the children strained to listen.  They stilled in their beds to listen for Ms. Gordon’s voice floating down the halls.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Glory, Hallelujah

[leglesstv]

THE DARK DAYS BACK– 2021

 I have been struggling with how to start this piece. I guess I should tell you a little about myself.

What I do for a living is not who I am, yeah, I get to blow shit up and its super fun but it’s not what defines me.

I have been a water baby all my life from growing up on the beach to commercial diver.

The ocean or the ocean’s rhythm ebbs and flows within me.

Surfing has been the biggest part of my life for longer than I care to remember. For sure I have been out the water for extended periods before while working on projects overseas. Always with the knowledge that I will be getting wet again, sometime soon. I have never before been concerned that surfing will not be an option. I have always just figured I would surf till the day I die.

 October 2019 we were still basking in the glory of a once in a lifetime trip to the Ments. 10 Kneelos on a boat sailing around the Mentawai’s. Absolutely what dreams are made of. Red, Giggs, Lester, Larry, Craig, Steve, Johan, Andrew and myself. Jason the skipper of Switchfoot made it 10 chargers in total.

We had also had a run of solid swell at the local, which for me was all time as my new Kneeon that Nick had shaped for me had arrived. Nick and I had chatted over the phone, had a few video calls and bam!! this magic carpet arrives. Oh my sack, I have never been happier with a stick. My surfing went up in leaps and bounds. Never been happier in my life.

 Around this time, I started to get pains in my left hip which radiated down the leg. Initially it wasn’t too bad but it got progressively worse. It got to a stage where I literally couldn’t walk anymore. Thinking it’s got to be the hip, off I went to the hip specialist. Had some photos taken of the hip, back to the clever guy’s office and this is where things started to go south.

Mate, as hips go, yours look beautiful but I recommend you go see a neurosurgeon.

Your spine doesn’t look good at all.

You can imagine, I’m thinking “what the fuck, are you sure you’re looking at the right X-rays.”

So, at least by this time I was on crutches to help me get around and waddled off to see Dave. Dave is a neurosurgeon that had done some work on my spine before.

Same sort of story, pain in my shoulder, radiating down my right arm.

True as nuts, I had gone to the shoulder clever guy who had told me exactly what the hip guy had just told me. Anyway, a long story short, Dave did a decompression on the C7 and T1 vertebrae.

I was booked on a boat trip to the Maldives with my good mate Guy. He is a stand up but I love him anyway. I manage to get on the plane without really having tested the neck or having had time for rehab of any sorts. Probably not my brightest move. We had solid swell the whole trip, but truth be told, I was in constant pain.

Once back in SA, I was off to see Dave again. X-rays and CT scans followed, and Dave said unfortunately we going to have to fuse the C7 and T1 but we will go in through the front this time.

Absolutely no problems whatsoever and I was back in the water 3 months later.

Dave, howzit I’m back. More scans and X-rays (starting to know everyone by their first names by now) followed. Yip, pretty much the same story, crumbling, degeneration of the spine.

I was booked in for a decompression on the L4 and L5. The procedure was pretty standard and uneventful. Unfortunately, just as with the neck, the decompression was not successful. A week later, I was booked in for a multistage fusion, L4, L5 and S1.

So, they going to open me up again along the same incision line, not feeling great about that but hey, there are worse things in life. Waking up from this op was a rude awakening. Fuck me this shit hurts. Trying to move was pretty tender for sure. Anyhow the drugs did their thing and a few days later I was able to get out of bed and lose the dreaded catheter. Walking was fair interesting to say the least, I had to laugh at myself as I looked like a mummy.

Little shuffles with my hands out front but hey, I was mobile. The day they let me out rolled around. Crap balls I felt like shit and was fair tender. It felt like someone was taking a mallet to my head.

I remember battling to get into the wheelchair to get me to the car. The nausea was just incredible, I thought I was going to throw up all over the place. Between the porter and Jo (my wife) they managed to get me into the car.

The ride home is not too far but I was deteriorating at a rapid rate of knots. Got home, Jo managed to get me onto her “throne” where I just passed out.

Through the rest of the day and night I remember fleeting moments of being awake. Couldn’t move, didn’t know what was going on. Basically, a vegetable on the couch.

The next morning Jo realized that this wasn’t good. Somehow or other she managed to bundle me into the car. I have a memory of the gardener holding the car door open with a look of concern on his face. The next thing I was on a gurney at the hospital with Debbie staring at me. Debbie is Jo’s business partner and one of my best friends.

Tests and more tests.

Somehow or other I had picked up Bacterial Meningitis.

Jo had literally just saved my life. A few hours later and it wouldn’t have turned out well.

Some serious antibiotics and medication I can’t even pronounce later, my infection levels started coming down, but the headaches wouldn’t go away. Back into the noisy tube for some more scans. Was good to see all the guys and gals in radiology again.

Crap balls I had a rupture in the thecal sac. Basically, it’s a sac that runs up your spine and over the brain. The sac contains cerebrospinal fluid. When leaking the sac “collapses” on the brain causing insane headaches, headaches that are just next level. Think migraine on steroids.

Back into theatre to patch up the leak.

Once again, they opened me up on the same incision. Success at last, once again freedom day arrived and was bundled into the wheelchair again and back into the car.

Was great to be home with the animals for sure. Jo had made a bed for me in the lounge as walking at this point just really wasn’t an option. To say I was tender would be a bit of an understatement.

A day later, I got this incredible pain down my left leg. Kinda like being hit with a cattle prodder. I remember screaming as the first one hit. Absolute agony, pain like I had never felt. It would last for about 30 seconds but in that time, I couldn’t move a finger for fear of escalating the pain. I just screamed and screamed. Over the next two days, it got worse and more frequent.

This was an incredible low point. I remember crying like a baby. I was emotionally drained by this time. I remember thinking I just want to be normal again. Remember, I can hardly walk, can’t even get down on the toilet to take a dump. I hadn’t had a shit for as long as I can remember.

My wife was washing me and dressing me. It was taking its toll.

This carried on for two days until it got to a point where I just couldn’t move.

An ambulance and crew had to come and peel me off the couch eventually. They dosed me up, got a stretcher underneath me and carried me out to the ambulance.

Jesus, what the fuck!! But hey, could be worse…right?

Back to my favorite people with the noisy machine. Hi everyone, true as nuts I’m back. Another scan revealed that the crushed bone material that they place between your vertebrae was leaking out and catching the nerve going down my leg.

Another twirl in theatre to clean up the debris, by this time the clock on the wall and I were good friends. I used to watch the seconds tick by as the anesthetic started kicking in. I woke up from here being wheeled into high care. Now I have to tell you this was by far my worst experience.

The following morning two nurses came to wash me. I was in absolute agony and they kept moving me and turning me. I was screaming in absolute agony, but they wouldn’t stop and no-one came to help me. To this day I can’t understand it.

Couldn’t wait to get out of there and back on to a ward. Or so I thought…

From there they wheeled me into an isolation ward. Apparently, I had picked up the dreaded hospital Super bug. My infection count was in the 400’s (8 being normal) and to make matters worse, the headaches were back. I had sprung another fucking leak in my Thecal sack. FUCK!!!

Back to my old friend on the wall with the ticking second hand. Again, opening me up on the same line. This time I wasn’t friends with the clock on the wall.

Dave patched me up as best they could.

What the actual…

My new home turned out to be a glass box in the ICU. In isolation in intensive care. Jesus, this isn’t good.

Nurse and doctors were putting gear on to come into the glass box. “What’s going on???”

Machines were everywhere beeping and hissing. “Fuck me, this isn’t good.”

Waking up at 4am with people sticking needles into you to draw blood loses its shine after a while. I think all I ate for the two weeks was watermelon in the morning that Debbie used to bring me with a cup of coffee. When I say bring, I really mean bribe the porter.

 Now you must remember I have basically been bedridden for 6 weeks and not had an appetite at all.

I could see the concern on peoples face when they came to visit, as much as they tried to hide it, it was there.

Nights were the worst and the tears used to flow. So as not to let the pressure in the Thecal sac become too great, they drained it every few hours. This as I’ve said to you before brings on insane headaches.

Morphine and I were no longer friends. It made me incredibly sad and depressed.

I came off the morphine by choice and gritted the teeth. Absolutely worth the pain.

 Lester and Marco organized a live feed for me for the warmup session before the SA Kneeboarding Champs. What legends.

Once again, I cried like a baby, but these were tears of joy. It was so good to watch my mates surfing and everyone saying “hi” on the feed made me feel like a million bucks. The brotherhood is strong here in Cape Town. Love these boys.

 At this point I was literally skin and bone, but my infection levels were coming down and I had managed to get out of bed and make the few steps to the toilet. The sun was definitely coming up for me. For the first time in a long time, I thought I was going to make it.

Fuck, the thought of dying in that glass box haunted me every night there.

Freedom day was like no other. Getting out of there into the sunshine and colors and breeze was a sensory overload, but hey, I was out and feeling good…ish.

 My mates, Debbie and Sian had kept me going. Sian is my office manager and best friend.

She tried to feed me all the way through to no avail, true as nuts she used to arrive with bags of food.

 God it was good to be home.

Reality starts to kick in pretty quickly. Fuck me am I ever going to be able to surf again, am I ever going to be able to sit on the toilet again (it’s the little things hahaha…)

Time to reset the mind from “fuck me, I don’t want to die in here to I need to get in the water again”.

 Enter the amazing Lara, the physio that is a gift from the angels. I remember that late December day shuffling and shaking my way into her office. By this time, all my muscles had wasted away and just holding my frame up was as much as I could muster. I could do about 2 minutes before all my muscles started shaking from fatigue and I was still shuffling like a mummy.

The question Lara asked me off the bat was “what do you want to get out of this.”

“Just get me back in the water please,” was my response.

At this point it was a fantasy I had to believe in, physically I was a mess, but I think mentally I was scarred and the mental trauma was real. But fuck it, if I could survive that, I can achieve anything. The will to get back in the water was incredible and became all consuming.

 Walking around the house became my exercise routine initially and braai tongs my best friend (in case I dropped stuff as bending was not an option). I had to hold on to everything at first as I walked along, eventually I could skip the kitchen counter on the way to the TV room and skip the chairs on the way to my room, and so it went on until I could just about walk the whole house without holding or resting.

 Lara had given me gentle low impact stuff to do, just to tone the muscles and stretches to get some life back in the buggers. Everything hurt. This was a continuous process that I did all day every day for a few weeks. I was starting to feel more stable on my feet which did wonders for my mental wellbeing. Progress was gradual but I started noticing results which made me feel like a million dollars.

 Getting behind the wheel again was a massive boost for me. My buddy Kante who is a running coach, walked with me from my local to St James, what a joy being next to the ocean again, mind surfing every bump that came through. I steadily built this up over time. Eventually I could make it to Muizenberg and back (5 kms). Everything ached at this point and the thought of shortening every walk was ever present. 4am wake ups every day can be a challenge and for sure there were mornings I couldn’t bear the thought of getting up. Sore back, sore hips, it’s dark and it’s cold, fuck this shit. On the odd occasion that I didn’t manage to get going, that feeling of worthlessness would set in. What the fuck is wrong with you, don’t you want to get back in the water? That’s not a cool feeling. I have probably missed 3 days in the six months I have been rehabbing. A 45-minute 5km walk followed by an hour of rehab back at home. I can’t begin to count the many lonely hours I have spent in the dark, walking and processing thoughts and priorities.

 My weekly visits to Lara are always a highlight. My flexibility is measured as well as my strength. Some weeks just like some days are better than others. Lately there are a few moments of some days that I am totally pain free. These can quickly be followed by days and moments of crappy pain, but I will take the good ones for sure. Setbacks some and it’s natural to be bummed by them. Thinking “end goal” always helps. Watching Billy Kemper’s story after that crazy injury in Morocco has inspired me tremendously and there is a kinship that forms in adversity.

To keep the spirits up, I have ordered me a new board from Nick (Kneeon) which should arrive any day.

Jedd has also shaped me a 5’4 twinny that looks more like something that should be flying in space rather than the water. Can’t wait to get these beauties wet.

 The daily grind continues relentlessly and it’s not always easy to appreciate the reasons for the dark hours one spends with oneself on the rehab trail. I want the prize now. Sheesh, it’s a constant battle upstairs. Here’s the weird thing, the closer I get to the end of April (paddle out day…hopefully), the more fearful I become. Will I be able to, and can I still?

All this and more just keeps swimming in the head and there’s the self-doubt.

Fuck it’s terrifying.

I have gone over it a million times in my head, do I just paddle out at a gentle beach break and see how it goes. Na, that scares me more. Soft waves are hard work and the amount of torque on the spine terrifies me. What if the nuts and bolts pop out?

There is no way in hell I am going back to that building with the big red cross on it. This drives me harder for sure back on the road, back to the floor and core exercises.

Lara assures me the hyperextension of the back I have obtained through this time will definitely be fine for paddling.

The torque and pressure on the lower back coming off the bottom and turning off the top, is what scares the crap out of me. The reef and I are intimate, god knows I have bounced and scraped along her so many times. I have certainly paid my dues.  

Wiping out doesn’t scare me, it’s that word again “TORQUE”.

Perhaps I will just go straight on the first few. That in itself presents a bit of a problem at the local, but that’s where my head is.

I know you will all understand this, “what if a section just presents itself, just asking to be slapped”.

It is so ingrained in each and every one of us, that muscle memory just takes over. Going to have to be ever vigilant.

I have swum out to the peak just to be out there with the guys. The first time was not great. It took me so long just to get to the water. Jumping off the railway line so not an option. Doing the walk around and trying to get over the rocks was tricky to say the least.

Feeling the water over my feet was an absolute delight, but crap balls, had the water got colder since the last time? As soon as I laid in the water, it dawned on me that this is going to be quite the journey.

I couldn’t swim on my stomach as the pain was intense, but fuck it, I was going out. I swam on my side and back. Eventually I made it, the guys cheered and whooped, I felt like I had just won the lottery.

It was so good to be part of the conversation out there again, it was so good to hear how stoked the guys were for me, life was good.

I fed off this like I had been starved of life for ages.

 Today being the Saturday before the Wednesday that I go back to Dave (the surgeon), brings turmoil to my emotions.

I’m not sure what I am scared of more, being told you aren’t ready or yeah, go get in the water. I am so scared of not surfing to my full potential again. Every day closer brings more panic. I just want it to be over now.

 Wednesday morning dawned (but not really), up at 4am and back on the road. Usually, I am thinking about the workday ahead but this morning not so much.

My head is swimming with what ifs. What if there is still something wrong, what if I can’t anymore, what if, what if…

On the drive to see Dave, the surgeon, my heart is beating at a million beats/minute.

It’s good to see Dave again in a weird type of way, he really is a very cool guy.

Anyhow, he sends me off for some more pictures of the spine. Gotta say I was staring at the radiologist for some clues, but nothing.

The stress is killing me, and I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest.

So, back up to Dave with the thumping heart, I can hear it in my ears.

It all looks brilliant mate. What… I could not believe what I was hearing. He took me through the X-rays explaining what he was looking for and everything was just right.

There’s no use putting off the inevitable he says to me, go get in the water…but don’t be stupid. I wanted to scream it to the world!

Obviously, the doubts started kicking in hard right about now, but hey, I had gotten the green light.

Thursday morning I was off to Lara for physio. I couldn’t wait to tell her the good news. The muscles on the left side of my back had been in spasm for two weeks now, so as thrilled as she was, there was the don’t be stupid again.

I had coached myself in my mind for months now, high tide, small waves and just go straight…right.

 Friday morning and the reports started coming in. There’s a bit of a wave at the local.

“It’s go time.” With my heart in my mouth, I started packing the car.

Sweet Lord, it had been a while, I had to keep double checking I had everything packed.

I don’t think I noticed any other cars on the way, I was mind surfing all the way through to the local.

I got there a few hours before the high just to get my head straight and check the lineup.

There were some chunky 4 footers coming through, but I wanted some more water on the rock. I watched my mate Dave paddle out and get some screamers.

Steve finally arrived, “I thought you would be in your suit already” he says.

This is it, heart in the throat again, off we went.

Sheesh it was so good to feel the waves crashing over my feet and legs again.

Jumped on my board and started paddling.

Woooohoooo absolutely no pain. Got out to the takeoff zone and everyone was cheering and welcoming me back. How humbling.

Mickey Duffus, a local big wave legend was out. Everybody back off he bellowed, this man hasn’t surfed for 6 months.

For some reason, this made me relax and just enjoy the moment.

Something started standing up out the back, Steve was sitting in the channel waiting for me to have my first ride.

“You going Mick?” I heard someone ask.

Yip I heard coming out my mouth, I spun and went.

Muscle memory and familiarity with the wave kicked in. I made the drop…Fuck I couldn’t believe it came around the section and just flopped off my board.

Steve and Dave had the biggest smile on their faces. The emotion of the occasion just swept over me like a wave, and the tears started flowing. All I kept thinking about was lying in ICU thinking fuck, I don’t want to die in here to taking off on the first wave.

Well, for the rest of the session, I absolutely sent it, trying to take off as deep as possible on the gnarliest set waves. All the coaching I had done in my head for the last few months went straight out the window.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

 Damn, I felt so alive, without a doubt, the happiest man on the planet. When I got back to the car park, all of the Kneelo crew were in the car park and boy were they happy for me.

Sean Thompson was there too, shooting my waves and recording the moment.

How blessed am I. Nothing was getting the smile off my face.

 When I lay in bed that night, I kept thinking of the months of rehab and hard work I had gone through. The many lonely dark hours of the mornings, but I had done it.

 The next morning, we were on it at first light with the Westside boys coming through as well. The Kneelo brotherhood in Cape Town is tight. I am so humbled by all the good wishes and thoughts from everyone.

Just want to mention Lester, who kept me sane in the last two months. We chatted every day for the last while, sometimes a few times in a day. He kept me motivated and hungry and for this I will be forever grateful.

There are so many people to thank for getting me through this period. I think you know who you are, and I will get to everyone individually.

It’s good to get wet again.

I started writing this piece to help anyone in similar circumstances.

Stick with your plan and give it everything no matter how hopeless your situation may seem.

At the end of the day this was such a therapeutic exercise for me. Something I didn’t expect.

The trauma was and is real and this has certainly helped me face it and deal with it.

If this helps even one person get over and through a rough period of hopelessness, its job done.

Mickey Kirsten

Legless Contributor

SA Kneelos

[crypticalwitch]

A Halloween night! Bloody Code Au (Part 1)

Ok, this is crossposted (i really hope im using it right) to my wattpad, but there its a songfic to Victorious by Panic! at the Disco, but i removed that here, because i liked it alot. also this is a cliff hanger that i will update to add the link to the second one later. Also some bad language, booze and blood and vomit. not graphic or anything, just wanted to mention! 

Part 1/ Part 2

Grian smiled. Halloween was always one of his favorite holidays, since it was excuse to cause trouble, and a halloween party at a night club was definitely going to be fun. The costume He and Scar chose was also very fun. While most might have just bought something, they had two advantages over everyone else, 1) Demise ment they had the best ghost costumes, with little to no make up, only using it to bright colour to scar tissue, which is why the pair were grayscale while walking down the road, and 2)Vex and Fairy, enough said.

And so Grian and Scar walked down the road toward the club. Grian had brought his vex mask, while Scar had made sure to have small stash of regen potions incase someone over did it on the drinks.

“SCAR GRIAN!” Rens familiar voice called out from down the road. Grian began to run closer, Scar on his heels. 

“HI REN!” Grian yelled. Ren was dressed up a stereotypical wolf man, though he only had the wolf ears,tail and clawed gloves. 

“Ready Scar?” Ren asked, jumping up and down slightly.

“You know it!” Scar smiled, “Cub already inside right?”

“Yup!” Ren cocked his head to the side. “What are you guys dressed up as?”

Grian smirked.

“Were Dead!” Scar giggled

“OH!” ren seemed to notice the grey skin, the X-ed out eyes, and the scars. The outline of grains skeleton was highlighted, and scars lips and hands were a pale yellow-green.

“Well, lets go!” grian said, his impatience beginning to show.

“Yeah!” Ren smiled and began to pull the pair to the entrance.

The club was bright, loud, and chaotic, in a very different way than Hermitcraft, and Scar wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Grian seemed to enjoy the loud music and immediately went off to the dance floor after seeing Iskall, who was dressed up as a mad scientist. 

Scar met up with cub, who was dressed up as a vampire, and got a comfortable seat close enough to the bar and the dancefloor, but wasn’t two crazy.

Things were fine at first. None of the group really drank too hard, and Scar even went out to dance with grian for a while. And then the coughing started.

It was only a small cough at first, occasional and something he could ignore. And then he coughed something up. A very familiar taste, the taste that ended his Demise run. He grabbed a napkin and spit it out, the pale yellow color staining the paper.

Grian was in a similar boat. The scars from the blast always itched slightly, even when he was alive, but at some point in the night, the scars began to inch and ache like crazy. It wasn’t until he rubbed one of the markings and his hand came away bloody that he realise something might be wrong.

Scar ended up in the bathroom, Grian at his side, Coughing and retching up poison and blood while Grian slowly dripped blood from his arms and legs.

“Feeling better?” Grian asked, rubbing his boyfriends back.

“A little.” Scar smiled, pulling back from the toilet “has the bleeding slowed any?”

“Yeah, its done I think.” Grian giggled, “Could you imagine if someone saw us?”

“In the same bathroom stall? Or coughing up blood and poison?”

“Yes.”

“Grian that makes no sense!” Scar laughed, 

“Ready to head back out?” Grian smiled, wiping the blood from his hands off on toilet paper.

“Yeah,” Scar smiled. “I think so!”

Grian and Scar slid out of the stall, right into a very confused Ren standing in the doorway.

“REN!” Grian blushed

“Uuhhh how long have you been standing there?” Scar asked, blushing under the grey.

“Long enough to know you two were in the same stall, but not long enough to know why!” Ren said, followed by an awkward laugh.  

“Really nothings happening.” grian began to spitball. “Its all fine. Nothings happening. Everything's FINE.” Scar facepalmed.

“We’ll explain later.” Scar smiled, “But not right now.”

“I guess thats fair my dudes.” ren smiled.

“Im just gonna,leave.” Grian carefully moved past ren, and entered back onto the dance floor.

Grian almost didn't notice the man dressed up as the grim reaper among the sea of costumes, but the reaper certainly noticed him. When grian got a drink, the man watched from a corner of the dance floor. When grian joined up with iskall on the Dancefloor, the man watched from the corner of grian’s eye.

“YOU!” he shouted, his voice gravely, as if he had been decomposing.

“Me?” Grian felt his face go warm.

The man stepped closer, and drew a scythe from his long tattered cloak. He growled, “You…”

Grian was finally able to get a good look at him. 

“Grimdog?” grains stomach flip flopped over and over again.

“Hehe” He nervously chuckled as the reaper apoached, flipping the sythe expertly around, so that the point was up, and placed it to Grian’s neck. “No hard feelings, remember ol’ buddy?”

The reaper growled.

Grimdog removed the point from Grian throat, before giving it a hefty swing into grian’s torso area. Grian lept back, the bone blade only landing a light scratch across Grian’s chest.

“Ok, got it, hard feelings.” grian joked, before pulling his mask off its chain. “If its a fight you want Grimdog,” Grian smiled, placing the mask on his face. “Then its a fight you’ll get.” Grian shouted voice took on an echoy quality,like many hims speaking at once.

Across the club, Scar, Cub, Iskall and Ren hear this, though only one recognised Grian’s voice.

“Oh no…” Scar murmured into his drink, non alcoholic as usual.

“Has someone already started a fight?” Iskall swirled his glass while he leaned back in his chair.

“Sounds like it.” cub smiled, slightly buzzed, “Wonder whats it over.”

“Somthin dumb probably.” Ren said. “Scar are you ok? You look nervous.”

 “IIIIIII, recognise that voice…” Scar said, nervously drawing out his words. “And if im right….”

“...WE should probably leave the building.”

“What?” Iskall sat up in his seat properly. “Why?”

“Cause if he’s any sort of involved with a fight…” Scar blushed as Grian-vex cackled along with the clang of bone and metal. People began to rush towards the exits “Shits about to hit the fan.”

The table stared for a moment, suddenly serious. 

“Welp.” Cub stood up,  putting on his cheep vampire cape, “Scar swore, The sky is Green, Grass is blue, and i'm getting the hell out of dodge.”

“Ditto.”

“Right behind ya.”

The four only got a few blocks down the road when the sound of bricks exploding echoed through the streets.

“SCATTER!” Scar screamed, Cub and Iskall began running down alleys as Ren and Scar continued running the main streets.

“OH COME ON GRIM!” the voice laughed. “I thought you’d be better at using that thing!”

“really?” scar muttered, “taunt the reaper huh?”

“Is this guy really brave or really stupid?”

Scar rolled his eyes. “Both.”

“Oof”

The fight had made it to the pair, and scar pulled ren into an alleyway. Giving ren the first view of this mysterious man.

The man’s skin was a pale grey-blue color. His dark hair had many curls were supernaturally sharp, a look that didn't sit right with Ren. His eyes and mouth didn't help. Both were glowing white-blue, his eyes eerily pupiless and his mouth filled with sharp teeth, pulled into a frustrated and menacing smile. Behind him, a pair of white wings glowed, and in his hand, a loosely held an axe.

The Reaper, if he even was human, was worse though. His eyes were pitch black, and everything about was salow and decayed, like he had just risen from the grave. He was covered with a swirling cloak, and carried a large scythe that appeared to be the jaw bone of some large animal.

Ren looked up at Scar. Scar watched the battle with an nervous air. The pair were stuck. Ren didn’t know who to hope for. The Reaper with the Scythe or the Spirit with an Axe.

“I-swear-if-i-die-dressed-as-the-world-most-effort-put-into-bad-halloween-costume-i'm-going-to-haunt-someone.” he whispered, semi-serious.

The reaper and Spirt help up their weapons and charged at each other.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of October 30th, 2019

Best of this Week: Tales from the Dark Multiverse - The Death of Superman - Jeff Loveness, Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund, John Kalisz and Clayton Cowles

We all know the story of the Death of Superman.

It was one of the few times that Superman fought a threat that pushed him to his limits, ultimately meeting his “end” before a triumphant return after he had been presumed dead. However, what would have happened had Superman not come back as soon as he did? What if someone wanted revenge for his death and saw his passing as a failure on the part of his friends and allies? What if that person were Lois Lane, fueled by the anger of losing her loving husband, enraged enough to become the change the world needed without its greatest hero?

The book begins with Tempus Fuginaut questioning why the darkness keeps returning, why it seems to keep attempting to poison the rest of the multiverse and he is at a loss. He breaks when he mentions worlds that are already dark because of tragedy and get darker still. We then cut to Superman’s battle with Doomsday and his eventual death right up to Lois cradling his body. Where the original story sees her crying and appreciating all that the rest of the heroes were doing while the fight was going on, this book sees her turn to them in fury. She asks why none of them were there for him, why none of them helped him fight.

Brad Walker does an excellent job of conveying Lois’ emotions. Here, she is shown to be far more angry, her eyes showing a pain that honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever seen from her character. Her tears are well detailed, dripping down her cheeks with maybe some bit of mascara mixed in for effect. Her brow furrows and she lashes out at Batman in particular once he tries to comfort her.  

What’s most interesting about this take is the idea that those closest to Clark had been shunted to the side in favor of the League who Lois saw as attention seekers with no regard for his real family. In the original story, Lois and the Kents were in the forefront and were absolutely devastated at the funeral. In this story, Lois is barely able to see the proceedings as the crowd blocks her and some members of the League stop for photos (maybe, Hal Jordan stops and waves at someone). Lois is further disgusted as Lex Luthor (with luxurious long, red hair) unveils a golden statue of the Man of Steel and promises to “live up to the hope” of what Superman believed humanity was capable of. Lois feels that Clark would have found it all s disgusting.

Time goes by and the world turns back into the cesspool that it was before Superman even lit the sky up with hope. There are headlines that crime has skyrocketed and Lois can do nothing but look at it all with despair. Lois Lane had always been a giant beacon of hope, even before she met Clark, but something about his death and the way that world handled it just broke her. Her body language at her desk and later, Superman’s grave give off heavy feelings of sadness and depression. She can’t even have a good night's rest without thinking about him and the shoddy state of the world after his passing. Superman gave so much to humanity and they’ve all just pissed it away from her point of view.

She visits Ma Kent and comforts her as the Kents couldn’t even go to their son’s funeral to say their goodbyes. As they embrace, Martha tells Lois that Jonathan fell into a coma after a heart attack and you can feel her brokenness as she laments that “her boys are gone.” It rips at the heart to see, a testament to Brad Walker’s emotional art and Loveness’ amazing script. She stays with Ma Kent for an unstated period of time before making her way to the Fortress of Solitude to deliver Superman’s cape back to his Kryptonian home. 

She puts herself in a fetal position before the statues of Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van and suddenly the form of Eradicator appears before her. John Kalisz is given a ton of space to shine as this is one of the most visually dynamic sequence of pages in the book. Eradicator shimmers with a bright and vibrant shade of red accentuated by a white form. Energy surges around him in the form of circular marks, like bubbles as one exhales while swimming underwater. Even without a mouth, his eyes emote for him. Showing his own anger and lament after failing to save Superman in time. 

Lois, with tears in her eyes, offers her body as a vessel for his power as he cannot sustain it in his current form. He is reluctant at first, thinking that her body wouldn’t be able to take it, but upon seeing her resolve and want to finish Superman’s mission, he allows her to take his power. She is then showered in his energy in a bright blast as he dissipates into her. The Fortress of Solitude is destroyed with the red of the explosion contrasted by the blues and whites of the ice. Things simmer down for a moment before another single beam of light shoots out from the ice, revealing Lois in her Super-form. 

Her costume is amazing. Mirroring the bloody logo that made the Death of Superman story feel so visceral, she already feels like a different “hero” altogether, choosing to forego bright colors in favor of a black bodysuit and Superman’s torn cape. She vows to make the world better, to make it a world that deserved Superman. The way that she goes about it very similar to Injustice Superman’s approach, but instead of raising an army, she is the army. She takes down predatory banks, ends wars, feeds the hungry, kills the corrupt and does so without a hint of remorse. She begins to wonder why Clark never used his power in that way. The questions swirl around her mind as she wonders if Clark was truly naive or if he was just afraid of truly Saving humanity for whatever reason.

Many have asked similar questions over the years with the only real answer being that Superman wants humanity to advance on their own with him being a guiding hand, but not a firm one. Lois, only fueled by revenge, doesn’t have the same restraint. Eventually she finds Lex Luthor, knowing that he’s been the cause of all of the world’s troubles since Superman’s death. He doesn’t bat an eye as he admits to his heinous crimes; funding wars and conflicts, struck down climate regulations, created child soldier and even murdering his secretary just because he could. He expects Lois to bring him to justice, claiming that he owns far more judges than she could stop.

In a terrifying moment, she bursts through the glass window separating them and grabs him by the throat. Luthor is unable to speak, unable to stop her at all and the motif of tears continues as she tells him that Superman was Clark Kent. Luthor’s face, abject terror mixed with the loss of breath is both horrifying to see and absolutely gratifying considering his actions. She flies him past Earth’s atmosphere as quickly as she can, burning him to ash and bone in her hands before continuing her mission.

These are my favorite pages in the book. Loveness wrote it in such a way that all of the emotion is able to be carried by with little dialogue and the few words that are spoken were powerful. Walker made sure to draw these pages with an amazing amount of depth to them. Lois’ boiling anger is painted on her face through her tears, her body language indicates that she feels her actions are righteous and the ease that she’s able to keep hold of Luthor as she destroys him shows a level of control over her new powers and it is amazing. Kalisz makes no bones about showing how Lois’ inner darkness has taken over, showing her shrouded in fire and feeling nothing about what she has done.

The training wheels are taken off by this point as Lois has seemingly gone on a tear through the rogues gallery of almost everyone; burning Intergang, Cadmus, Ra’s al Ghul, Ares, Black Adam, Deathstroke and finally the Joker which draws the ire of Batman. He confronts her about what she’s done, leading to them having a fight. Batman does his best, but she tells him how much Clark actually held back against him, even going so far as to say that Clark pitied him and wished that he would stop being Batman. Bruce looks at her with a seething rage, saying that “he doesn’t stop” to which Lois says that she knows. While we don’t see the aftermath of their conflict up close, we do see her heat vision make a huge blast before she flies away.

This stuck out to me because, unlike Injustice that went out of its way to show all of the brutality that Superman inflicted upon the heroes of the world, we can interpret similar actions from how she was able to easily kill Batman alone. We don’t need to see what happened to know that it was heinous and that she likely had cut a swath through the other “glory hounds” as well. As she looks out to the vast emptiness of space, she sees her own truth. Humanity can’t be saved because they don’t want to be. Batman was the pinnacle of that and now that he’s gone, she’s finally realized it. Batman was one of the greatest humans to exist, but he was too wrapped up in his own emotion and damn anyone that tried to stop him.

What would a Death of Superman retelling be without the “pretenders?” Granted, I think this bit of the story took some liberties, but it was still horrific to see. She goes after Cyborg Superman and immediately sees through his ruse. They have a tussle and as it appears that she’s about to lose, Steel and Superboy show up only to be crushed and heat visioned to death. I suppose Superboy’s clone DNA doesn’t make him as invincible as Superman, but I don’t think Cyborg Superman has the power to control metal at will to crush Steel either. Lois proceeds to fight Cyborg Superman for God knows how long, not caring about property damage or the amount of people killed.

She looks around, seeing all of the damage and suddenly, in a black suit, Clark returns. He apologizes for how long it took and sees that she’s been fighting Cyborg Superman, then he takes a look at the crowd of people and sees that they’re afraid of her and he questioned why. Unfortunately, this leaves him distracted enough for Cyborg Superman to blast the pair with a ray of Kryptonite Energy, killing him and leaving his face frozen with terror at Lois. She kills Cyborg Superman and cradles his body again, this time knowing that she’s the one that kills him.

I loved this book because it was absolutely masterful. Lois Lane is such a great character that rarely gets stories of her own these days, aside from her current ongoing series by Greg Rucka and Mike Perkins. She is always portrayed as a strong character and seeing her succumb to a weakness like rage is refreshing in a dark way. One criticism I could draw is that this story focused very little on her journalism, but in contrast, how often do we get a super powered Lois Lane? 

Brad Walker, Drew Hennessey, Norm Rapmund and John Kalisz absolutely killed it in the art department. It was brutal without blood and the motif of tears and fire was a nice addition. Waller has such a distinctive and sharp style that is accentuated by Hennessey and Rapmund's inks and elevated by Kalisz' colors. This book was high quality and beautiful. 

High recommend!

[pyreneese]

Wammy Week Day 2: Not a Competition at allllllllll

@wammyweek

Rating: G

Fluff.

Mello determinedly put a big, red X on the calendar, his eyes narrowing.

Near twirled a strand around a finger. No doubt Mello would try turning this into some immature, inane competition. He wouldn't fall for such childish tactics. Of course not. There was no competition. No competition at all.

Mello took a step into the store, turquoise eyes raging fire. Stepping through the racks, he pulled out a large cape and dashing vest, scanning for a bucket of fake blood. Tossing it into his cart, he continued onwards into the candy aisle, filling his cart to the brim. A mother covered her daughter's eyes to shield her from the ungodly sight of Mello buying $300 worth of candy.

Near cursed as he poked his finger, drawing a drop of blood. He shook his head quickly, returning to sticking the ears onto the hat, tilting his head. That looked good... right? Sure.

"Near. It's time to go."

He followed Roger, embarking for the toy store. He'd been saving his allowance for the past three weeks, trying to convince himself that it wasn't because he waned to beat Mello. He tugged at a lock, his feet shuffling quietly in the uncomfortable shoes trough rows and rows of beautiful toys. His fingers trembled, every little bone in his body wanting him to pick one of the new shiny robots. Oh! Or a new domino set! And the stuffed animals! His brow stitched. No. Eyes on the prize. He'd seen it a month ago but didn't have the money at the time to buy it.

A gorgeous chess set with crystal pieces over a mahogany board.

Near's lips twitched in an attempt at a smile...

Watari opened the door and L stepped through. The lights were off in the manor? L opened his mouth to ask when the entire mansion illuminated in light, showing off all of the orphans, dressed up in Halloween costumes.

"Happy Birthday, L!" They screamed, the noise overwhelming him.

L blinked in shock, his eyes going bright. He was still in a daze as he was led to a large sofa, looking around in awe at the birthday-Halloween hybrid of decorations, large bats hanging from the ceiling with birthday hats on, jack-o-lanterns in the corners with party-blowers in their mouths.

Mello stepped forward, dressed as a vampire, fake blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth. An attempt had been made on his hair. He'd slicked it back, giving him a distinguished appearance. Near wore his normal white clothing but wore an extra white hat with lamb ears. He knew it was a lame costume, but he couldn't bring himself to wear some uncomfortable, stuffy thing.

L's eyes lit up, tired face smiling warmly, long fingers sifting through the massive bag of candy Mello had given him. All of his favorite treats! How did Mello know?!

"My God," he breathed excitedly, "... Mels!"

Mello blinked and before he knew it, L was hugging him. He was stunned... his mentor was never this open! Mello almost didn't know how to react, awkwardly patting L's back. L's eyes flickered to the chess set tightly clutched in Near's hands, his heart swelling. It was so beautiful... he already knew that every time he visited, he and Near would play with it, large ornate pieces that immediately called attention.

"Did the two of you pay for these yourselves?" He asked in astonishment.

Near and Mello sheepishly nodded. L gaped in disbelief. How long... he couldn't even imagine all the time and self-control it must've taken. Holding out an arm, Near came forward cautiously, accepting a hug alongside Mello.

"Thank you," L murmured.

"We want hugs too," one of the other orphans grumbled.

L chuckled, his face going red, not used to so much attention, so many eyes watching him.

"Of course," he laughed, "all of you... thank you..."

His eyes widened as dozens of small children swarmed around him, enveloping and drowning him in a sea of kids.

Near and Mello flushed, struggling to stay the closest to L. Mello may or may not have subtly kicked a kid that got too close. Near shot a glare at one so harsh that the kid’s entire face went white.

L sighed.

It was a good birthday.

[i-ndil-cuimhne-ar-daniel]

(drawing by @mahanaimacallaris)

@mahanaimacallaris I hope you don’t mind me putting this in a new post, but I figured people would appreciate not seeing that long-ass post on their dash over and over again 😂 But I’ll put a link here to the first post with the other drawings/story: link

Well, this is my two-cents, including a couple of *cough* hints. 

Whatever happens in Munich, stays in Munich

The early morning light fell into the room through the half-open curtains, seducing the lingering darkness into a flirtatious shawdowplay, and Till watched as silhouettes danced across the wall in various shades of darkness – in the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more, and Ian Curtis offered him the words in that soothingly melodramatic voice, but,

no, not now, go away. The dark was as enticing as ever, but Till was ready to fight tooth and nail to keep himself out of the shadows. It was one of the few times they didn’t have any obligations and they got to spent a quiet morning sleeping-in, and, well, he wanted to be able to experience every moment in the light, not the dark.  

Till carefully wiggled his shoulders to find a more comfortable position, holding Flake tight as the slender man lay sprawled on top of him. His breathing warm against the skin of Till’s shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against his chest, and, Gott, I love you. Ja,

it was officially a thing, our thing, although Olli never missed a chance to remind them that,

without me your thing wouldn’t even be a thing, so theoretically speaking this is our thing,

and Till had no complaints about that. The more the merrier, right?

Though perhaps Flake would be a tad more difficult to persuade, especially after what I did… Because, ja, there was indeed the tiny thing Till had done. Nothing too serious, I hope, but he expected some trouble out of the keyboard player nonetheless.

Still, I can’t wait…. It wasn’t like it had been formally confirmed, but, they’re going to come through. Not just Olli, but, ja, them too, the mysterious person who had made the drawings of Till in the pink fluffy coat.

I’m not going to tell you, stop with the bribes, Till.

But they’re your favorite cookies. Look. I made them myself,

and Olli had shot him a look.

Fine. I bought them myself. But it was done with love – so much love!

I’m sure it was, and I appreciate it. I really do. But a secret is a secret. I crossed my heart and hoped to die.

You’re not going to die, Olli!

I’m not going to risk it either, Till!

Fine, but can you at least ask them to do another drawing? Please, for me, and Till had tried for the cutest puppy-eyes, and,

stop-would you just…fine, you got me. I’ll ask. Oh Gott, let me guess. This is about Munich, isn’t it?

apparently, it had worked. Olli had promised to ask for the drawing.

Flake is going to make a bit of a fuss, Till was absolutely certain. But most of it is in jest anyway. Spending years with the band, and specifically Paul, had left him more desensitized to outrageous jokes, nudeness, and things that should not be named, than he’d like to let on. He just likes the drama, that extra shiver of attention he got whenever he let out some screams and made a scene.

And he knows Munich was….epic, even for their standards.

It had been a quiet May evening. Tired from the concert and a meet-and-greet with fans, they had all retreated back to their own rooms, Flake following Till to his.

He’d just gotten out of the shower, and they were sitting on the bed with a glass of wine, chatting about things Till had by now forgotten about, when they’d heard a ruckus outside. Curious,

that sounds a bit like Paul,

Flake had gone to the window to have a look, and,

mein Gott, that is Paul! And Richard! And they’re….oh Gott…no!

What is it? And Till had gotten of the bed. Tell me.

No-no! We’re not doing this again, I refuse,

and Till had looked out the window, only to find Richard and Paul chasing Christoph through the hotel garden. The latter neatly in his shirt and sweatpants, but the other two, stark naked.

Oh, scheiße, look at them go, and Till had opened up the glass doors, walking onto the balcony. And of course, Flake had been right behind him.

Together they had stood at the banister watching as Richard and Paul were trying to corner Christoph, he’s actually pretty fast and agile for such a large man, and, thankfully, their efforts so far had been unfruitful.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying though. Throwing all regards for modesty out the window, Paul and Richard had run over the grass, sliding left and right as they tried to make quick turns. Hands waving, fingers grabbing, but Christoph had managed to outrun them every single time.

That’s quite a sight, isn’t it?

and Till had looked up to find Olli standing on the balcony next to his. It sure is. Mein Gott. Any idea what’s going on?

Shrugging his shoulders, Olli had chucked his fag over the railing, eyes still fixed on the spectacle unfolding in the garden below. You remember when they rebuild his drums at the bottom of the pool and left him to retrieve them by himself? Well, you’re looking at the payback. The start of a budding grin had carefully presented itself at the corners of Olli’s mouth. He took all their stuff while they were in the sauna.

The thunder of a hearty laugh had vibrated through Till’s chest. But, come on! Schneider isn’t stupid, he wouldn’t wait for them to get out.

Fully blossoming, the grin had spread itself across Olli’s entire face. Nope. But let’s just say someone still had a little bone to pick with our drummer about a missing container of cookies – and took his room key.

Till had laughed so loud he could have sworn he’d heard the sound echo, but,

Olli had simply smiled dryly. There are things I myself don’t need to see, but, uhm, you enjoy the show. Gentlemen, and on the beats of his farewell, he had disappeared back into his room, closing the doors behind him.  

Meanwhile, the manhunt downstairs had still been in full swing. But as the two firecrackers had decided to, finally, team up, Christoph had quickly found himself in a little trouble somewhere near the edge of the swimming pool. Caught between the covered obstacle and the two approaching fire breathing dragons, Christoph had yelled out at Till and Flake,

a little help here would be nice,

but Till had simply shrugged his shoulders, shouting back, you want to play with fire, you might get burned, while Flake had just stood there and waved.

I’M GOING TO REMEMBE–AHHH,

and both Paul and Richard had jumped him at the same time, cutting the sentence short as Christoph had let out a high-pitched scream.

With Richard’s arm around his neck and Paul’s full weight against his chest, it had only taken a few seconds to get him down to the ground. But Christoph was strong and lifting Paul up with one arm, he had easily plopped him onto the ground next to him.

Getting to Richard had been more difficult, as he was lying underneath Christoph, holding him in a firm choke hold. So, by the time he had finally managed to get a hand between his throat and Richards arm, Paul had climbed back on top of him, using his knees to try and help keep Christoph down.

Now, where up until that point it had only been a matter of some, things, dingling and dangling, now everyone was offered a full view of, everything, really, and,

MEIN GOTT, PAUL LANDERS, I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR NONSENSE!

Hands still firmly on Christoph’s chest, Paul had looked over his shoulder. THAT’S NOT FAIR, YOU NEVER YELL AT RICHARD.

THAT’S BECAUSE I’M NOT FORCED TO LOOK AT HIS, OH MEIN GOTT, ALJOSCHA WAS RIGHT! YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE,

and with a dramatically grand twirl Flake had turned on his heels, marching back inside, although Till was quite sure he must have still caught the,

YEAH, WELL, HE ALSO SAID I HAD A CUTE BUM. SO, TAKE THAT!

It had sent Till straight into another laughing fit, slapping his hand on the balcony railing as he had looked on as with joint effort and a whole lot of gymnastics, Paul and Richard had managed to get Christoph out of his pants as well,

which had been about the time the hotel manager had come running into the garden, another employee with a stack of bathrobes in tow.

And maybe it had been the whole incident happening at all, or maybe it had been just the simple fact they weren’t even drunk when it did. And maybe, well, most likely, it had something to do with their stubborn refusal to cover up in the offered robes, making their way through the hotel buck naked….but regardless of which one it was, verdammt, that guy had been pissed, raving and ranting as he had scolded them like they were a bunch of naughty children.

Luckily some sweet talking from Christoph and a very sad looking Flake letting out a little snicker, it’s a good thing he can cry on command, had convinced the manager to let them stay. For one night. Thus, the next morning they had gotten another telling off from Tom from management, who had to find them another hotel.

It was worth it though, that evening was….epic, Till had no other way to describe it. And now he would have a memento to hang on his living room wall. Flake is going to kill me, having to look at Paul’s naked ass every ti

a quick knock on the door roughly yanked Till out of his thoughts. Who can that be? “Yes?” But there was no answer. That’s weird.

“Wazz tha?” Lazily Flake lifted his head, his chin scraping along Till’s chest as he turned his head to face him.

“I don’t know. There’s no response.” His fingers tenderly caressing the soft skin of Flake’s back, Till leaned up for a kiss. “If you let me go, I can go and check.”

“Nah,” Flake stole another kiss, “I’ll go,” and rolled himself off Till, and off the bed. He stood swaying on his feet for a second, “woo-right, okay,” smiling at Till as he exorbitantly blinked his eyes. “Yep, I’m here,” and he turned to grab his bathrobe off the chair.

As long as you come back to bed after, Till watched as Flake swung the fabric around his shoulders like a cape, walking towards the door, I’ve got plans for you.

“I don’t think we were even supposed to answer,” Flake sunk to his knees, “there’s a paper stuck underneath the door,”

Really? Oh, wait-scheiße, “wait!” Till shot up, clutching a tangle of blanket in his hands.

but Flake had already picked the white sheet off the floor. “What could this-ahhhh, oh no!” In a flash he got up, “Till Lindemann, what have you done,” making his way to the bed. “Whatever happens in Munich, stays in Munich, remember?”

“Easy, calm down,” his hands held up in a half protective/half apologizing motion, Till smiled his dearest smile, “don’t be mad.”

“I just-I, mein Gott, will you look at it?” Flake held the paper out so Till could see. “They’re naked! Again!”

“Now, now, come on. It’s not like you haven’t seen that a couple of times before.” Till let go of the blanket and took the paper out of Flake’s hand. “Look, this is amazing. That’s us again. Remember, that moment we heard the noise outside?”

The corners of Flake’s mouth slightly trembled and,

oh, I’m on to you, Till knew all too well the other was attempting to hold back a smile. All I need to do, is draw it out. “Look, this is-come here,”

with his other hand, Till grabbed onto Flake and pulled him onto the bed, waiting for him to settle himself against his side before he continued.

“Look,” pointing at the paper, “how cute are those bums?”

A gentle nudge against his shoulder,

“and would you look at Olli! Mein Gott, he’s pleased with himself. As he should be! They would have never been outside if it hadn’t been for him,”

and on a sharp exhale of breath, Flake let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right – you’re right. The drawings are amazing.”

“But?”

“They’re amazing!”

“And?”

Flake let out a soft sigh. “It’s always shenanigans, all the weird shit we got ourselves into. Why not something, you know, sweet?”

Dropping the paper on the nightstand, Till turned towards Flake and took him in his arms. “Because I’ve already got you.”

“Oh, you,” a quick kiss on the nose, “I mean something sweet to put on the wall, next to those other drawings.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” a tender smile, “what about that night at Olli’s house, when you asked me to be yours?”

Oh Flake, that is sweet, it had taken Till a good four glassed of whiskey to amass enough courage to do so, but, such a fantastic night, sitting by the fire pit, looking at the stars. The whole damn lot of them standing watching from inside the house, although Till wasn’t quite sure if Flake had that in mind as well. Then again, seeing them scatter around when we looked their way was kind of cute., so I guess it counts

“Or that time when all of us went for a walk and Richard fell of that rock, and we all took turns supporting him until we made it back.”

Right, ja, that had been the previous year, during one of their gigs in England. Off course, Richard and Paul had climbed some rocks, but Richard had fallen off, hurting his ankle. It had taken them a good five hours to tackle a path that would have normally taken not even three, but they had made it. Together.

“Though the sweetest part was you giving him a piggyback ride for the last two miles.”

“My back was less impressed.”

“I know,” another petit kiss, “but you did it.”

Yes, I did. We did,

“or it could be something happy, like that doughnut eating contest – you know, when Christoph got mad at Olli for making him laugh, and he tried to shove three doughnuts into his mouth at the same time,”

nearly choking Olli, but, well, it actually had been kind of funny. Once Olli had stopped coughing and spitting out chunks of half-chewed dough.

“Oh-oh, or when that lady wouldn’t stop badgering Schneider about the god-awful way he treated his perfectly behaved pups!”

Resting his head against Flake’s shoulder, Till let out a thundering laugh. “Now that would be priceless! He got so annoyed. ‘Let me be, you’ve got no idea what they’re like.’ And Paul just kept sniffing her leg!”

“I still refuse to believe she didn’t notice.”

Another round of laughter. “Perhaps she liked it!”

Flake snorted. “Who knows. He sure did.”

“Stop it,” words carried out on a wave of exuberant laughter, “I can’t.” There’s always something going on with Paul….funnyman.

“Although I think we’ve ventured right back into weird again.”

“Are we ever anything but weird?” Till leaned back, looking Flake in the eye. “Seriously?”

“Nah,” Flake shook his head, “it’s just, some types of weird are definitely more enjoyable than others.”

Ah, “jokes and pranks are the good type of weird, naked bums are the bad kind?”

“Mmm,” a hint of tension built up in Flake’s face, focusing around the ever so lightly narrowing eyes, “that depends on whose bum it is.”

Ohhh, “I see,” tugging Flake closer, Till nuzzled his face into his neck, gently sucking the skin between his lips as he showered it with kisses. “I,” kiss, “like,” kiss, “where,” kiss, “this,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “going.” Till had a whole bunch of ideas that he was sure Flake would classify as, the good type of weird, and, I-

Putting a hand against his chest, Flake pushed Till away. “Are you sure?”

-what? “What do you mean?”

“Because as Olli would say, I still have a bone to pick with you over that Munich-thing, and I’m not sure you’re going to like what I’ve got in mind.”

“I’ll ask for another drawing, I promise!” Reaching back to a sure-fire favorite, Till faintly titled his head downward, looking up at Flake with slightly widened eyes, even pouting his lips to exploit the full potential of the endearing look. “Please be nice.”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime,” Flake leaned closer, gently tapping Till on the nose, “go fetch the present I brought you. It’s in my suitcase.”

What did you do? “What is it?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

This should be good, it looked like the morning was going to turn out even better than Till had imagined. Cuddles with Flake, the amazing drawing, and now, what did you bring me? He pushed himself to the edge of the bed,

“And Till?”

turning to look over his shoulder.

“You better be good.”

Oh hell yes, it was going to be a very good morning.  

[theyearoftheking]

Book Fifty-Nine: Duma Key

Have you forgotten what we were like then

when we were still first rate

and the day came fast with an apple in its mouth

it’s no use worrying about Time

but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves

and turned some sharp corners

the whole pasture looked like our meal

we didn’t need speedometers 

we could manage cocktails out of ice and water

I wouldn’t want to be faster 

or greener than now if you were with me O you

were the best of all my days...

Duma Key was one of the best books I could have picked up right around spooooky season. I knew very little about it, and it was a well-written, suspenseful ghost story.

Edgar Freemantle survives a horrific accident that involves a crane crashing on his car. In the aftermath of the accident, he lost his right arm, his marriage, his successful business, and his house. It sounds like a bad country song. 

Edgar decides to deuce out of Minnesota (wise choice, friend. The Vikings are an embarrassment this season); and rents a vacation home in Duma Key, Florida. Edgar stays in a house he dubs “Big Pink” and starts feverishly painting. Big Pink definetely has some creepy vibes, and the sound of the ocean rushing over the shells underneath the house certainly doesn’t help. Edgar finds things washed up on the beach during his morning walks, and incorporates them into his paintings. As his body continues to heal from the accident, his walks get longer, and eventually he meets Wireman, the caretaker of the eccentric Elizabeth Eastlake. 

Kids. When someone is rich and crazy, they’re referred to as “eccentric”. When they’re poor and crazy, they’re just, well, crazy. #themoreyouknow

Edgar and Wireman take to each other right away, and Edgar learns more about Big Pink, and Elizabeth. Big Pink had been used in the past as an artist’s retreat; Elizabeth was a patron of the arts, and wanted to inspire local artists. Elizabeth herself is in a bit of decline: she’s dealing with Alzheimer's, and swings between blinding lucidity, and silent unknowing. It breaks Wireman’s heart. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding Elizabeth’s family, including the death of her sisters and father. But, when she’s lucid, she’s the sweetest lady ever.

In between hanging out at the Eastlake estate, Edgar continues painting. His daughter Ilse comes for a visit, and is impressed by her dad’s talent. They try to take a drive around the island, but Ilse becomes violently sick. Edgar later gets a strange message on his answering machine from Elizabeth, informing him the island is not a place for daughters. After Ilse’s departure, Edgar paints a foreboding picture, including a woman in a red cape. He’s not sure what it means, but he’s worried about Ilse. 

Edgar then discovers his paintings have power... there’s a long stretch that includes a killer named Candy Brown, and Edgar giving Wireman his failing vision back again. Also, he has a vision of his ex-wife, Pam with a new rose tattoo (on her boob! So scandalous!), sleeping with one of his friends, Tom Riley, and Tom’s increasingly suicidal thoughts. He calls Pam to warn her, she of course behaves like an ex-wife, but then later finds out Tom does in fact need his meds adjusted. Edgar for the win!! Save? Win? Either way.  Edgar remembers before his accident he liked sketching, but he never remembers being this good, or this powerful. Everyone is amazed by this talent, and they encourage him to show his paintings at a local gallery.

This my friend is the halcyon part of the book... Edgar shows his work at a gallery, all his friends come on a Gulfstream jet from Minnesota to see his work, they are proud of the physical recovery he’s made, and the talent he’s been hiding from everyone. The paintings all sell out, and even Elizabeth Eastlake is lucid enough to have Wireman bring her to the show. She looks at the paintings and tells Edgar what he already knows: he can’t sell those paintings. Bad things will happen to whomever owns them. There’s a curse at work. And then Elizabeth has a seizure and dies; which could perhaps be the most dramatic end to an art gallery exhibition ever. 

But the curse, y’all. Thankfully not all the paintings had been framed and shipped out yet... but the ones that have? Not good. Tom Riley drives off the road on his way to kill Pam. Ilse is drowned in the bathtub by an art critic. Edgar needs to release the spirit that is killing his friends and family. 

So, Edgar, Wireman, and Jack (the island errand boy) head over to the original Eastlake mansion (you know, where Ilse got so sick) to release a demon from a bottle, and capture her in a flashlight. Yep, you read that correctly. 

Even though I’m skimming over the end of the book, I’m doing it on purpose. This is truly some of Steve’s strongest writing. He captures a strong gothic vibe and runs with it. In a rare show of restraint, I’m not going to describe the last quarter of the book, and I’m going to encourage readers to pick it up, and fall head-first into the story. It’s part Bag of Bones, part Rebecca, and part awesomely spooky. It’s so damn good. Duma Key is hands-down one of the best Steve books I’ve read in a long time, and my timing was perfect. 

There were two Wisconsin references: a mention of Eau Claire, and the Packers. Woot! 

Also, there was one Dark Tower mention... at one point Edgar thinks how, “life is a wheel.” It’s ka, bro... ka is a wheel. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 40

Total Dark Tower References: 55

Book Grade: A-

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D

Next up is Stephen King Goes to the Movies; where he breaks down five of his favorite stories adapted into movies. I hope everyone has a safe, healthy Halloween weekend! Enjoy the last bit of spooooky season, y’all!

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca 

[pingo1387]

Teach Me

OP Secret Santa 2019 @opsecretsanta2019  For @nevermordor  Relationships: Usopp & Franky (platonic), hint of ZoLu in the background  Happy holidays! 

Usopp, bent over his workshop table as he tinkered with spices and gunpowder, jumped at the BANG when something was slammed down in front of him. He looked up to see Franky, who stared at him for a moment before looking away, pouting. 

“What?” he said at last. He looked down and pushed his things aside, picking up the paper Franky had slammed down. “A blank wanted poster? Thirty million beris? What is this?” 

“The deer-kid’s birthday’s tomorrow, right?” Franky said, still looking away. 

“Chopper? Yeah, what about it?” The crew had gone to great lengths to hide their presents from Chopper, since living on a ship together meant there weren’t many places to hide things. Fortunately, he didn’t suspect a thing, and as far as he knew all that was happening was that Sanji would bake him a cake. 

“He’s pretty bummed about his bounty, right? I figured I’d make him a new poster. Thing is, I . . . how do I say this?” 

“You don’t know what kind of pose or face he should be making?” Usopp said, looking up. “That’s easy! He—” 

“That’s not it! I know exactly what I want it to look like!” Franky finally turned his head to look at Usopp again, scowling with pink cheeks. “I just can’t draw it.” 

“Oh. I—hey, isn’t your face made of metal? How are you blushing?” 

“Neat, isn’t it? I built in these thin pouches just below my face, which fill up with a reddening agent when my body temperature—” 

“Never mind, never mind! So, what are you saying? You want me, the great artist, to teach you to draw?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Franky said, deflating again. “Yeah. If you’re not busy?” 

“Nope,” Usopp said, sweeping an arm out and knocking away his supplies. They fell onto the floor and smoke started rising from the wood. As he stomped on the flame, wincing, Usopp continued, “Where’s Chopper now? He can’t come down here while we’re working on this.” 

“Playing in the snow with Strawhat and the swordsman,” Franky said. “I’m pretty sure they’ll keep him busy long enough to get this done.” 

The cold weather had forced the Sunny to run into a large patch of slush, slowing their progress towards Sabaody but not halting it entirely. As such, the crew was taking it easy, their only necessary job currently being making sure the ship hadn’t frozen to the sea while they slept and they were still on course. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Usopp said, nodding. He grinned and scooted aside, patting the spot next to him at the table, and Franky sat down. “I see you already have most of the poster drawn?” 

“Of course,” Franky said, folding his arms. “Shapes and letters are easy.” 

“Right, right. Now, let the master show you how it’s done!” 

“Just start already!” 

~ 

“What do you mean, you’ve never built a snowman?” Luffy demanded, placing his hands on his hips. “It was snowing all the time on Drum, wasn’t it? And you never built a snowman?” 

“I don’t—what’s a snowman?” Chopper exclaimed, looking between him and Zoro. “Show me!” 

“Oh, boy,” Zoro said with a sigh. “You have a lot to learn about the world.” 

“Huh? Show me! Show me!” 

“Okay!” Luffy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. “First, we’re gonna make a snowball!” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“Then, we do this!” Luffy dropped to his knees, scooped up snow, packed it together, and started rolling it around. The light snow falling around them ensured they wouldn’t run out anytime soon. 

“Luffy, you’re too inefficient,” Zoro said, shaking his head. He took the ball from Luffy and started pushing it, running at top speed around the ship until it was about half his height. “See, that’s how you roll a snowman.” 

“Zoro!” Chopper cheered, grinning. “You’re amazing!” 

“Of course. Luffy, you do the head.” 

“Let me help,” Chopper exclaimed. He and Luffy pushed the next snowball together, around and around until it was about half as large as the first one. “What now?” 

~ 

“They’re really going at it now,” Nami remarked, peering out the kitchen window as Chopper jumped for joy and started building his own snowman. She sat back down at the table. “Sanji-kun, more hot chocolate.” 

“Of course, my love,” Sanji crooned, scooping up the pot from the stove and pouring her another cupful. 

“With whipped cream!” 

“Yes, Nami-san!” 

“How marvelous youth is, to waste your days away playing in the snow,” Brook said wistfully from the couch. “Alas, these old bones must rest today. Speaking of youth, where did Usopp-san and Franky-san get to?” 

Robin, sitting across from Nami, closed her eyes. “They’re below deck, drawing something,” she said, opening them again. “Franky looks awfully serious.” 

“More hot chocolate, Robin-chan?” Sanji offered. 

“No, thank you.” 

“Franky, Franky,” Nami said, sticking her tongue into her whipped cream and bringing a dollop back into her mouth. “Did he ever tell you how he picked that name?” 

“Not exactly,” Robin said. “He mentioned everyone’s called him that since he was small, and I suppose he made the permanent change along with his body.” 

“What about you?” Nami said. 

“My name? My name was always Robin. I never had issues with it. I suppose I’m lucky, in that sense.” She smiled. “The Government never had to update the name on my bounty. It’s a shame . . . I would have loved to make things harder for them.” 

Nami laughed, and Brook said, “Sanji-san, might I have another hot chocolate?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just a fucking second!” 

~ 

“People are too soft,” Franky complained as he erased yet more lines of a sketch, scowling and biting the end of his pencil. 

“Huh?” Usopp said. “Is that some kind of statement on mankind?” 

“No, I mean this drawing! Lines are hard, and people are soft!” 

“Oh. Look, let’s go over it again.” Usopp leaned forward. “How about drawing the body first, and then the face?” 

Franky sighed and rested his forehead against his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” 

“Start with shapes. Do a circle for his head, and lines for his arms.” 

Franky leaned over, drew the shapes, and leaned back again. “Easy.” 

“Yeah! So, now draw on his hat. It’s more or less a cylinder surrounded by a raised circle.” 

“Uh-huh?” Franky drew this in, and after a moment of thought added what showed of the X on the hat. 

“Now for details.” Franky groaned. “Just listen! You go off of the shapes you drew, and make them softer. Lemme show you.” Usopp grabbed a spare piece of paper, sketched a circle, and sketched fuzz around it. “See? The fur sticks to your base shape.” 

“Hmm?” Franky’s eyes lit up. “I think I get it!” 

“Yeah? Yeah! Give it a go!” 

~ 

“Wow!” Chopper exclaimed, looking around at the three snowmen he, Luffy, and Zoro had built—one for each of them. “That was so fun!” 

“Playing in the snow is always fun!” Luffy said with a grin. He took off his hat and placed it on his snowman. “Now Mister Snowy’s warm.” 

“Oh!” Chopper took off his own hat and put it on his snowman, which was around his height. “There we go!” 

They looked at Zoro. 

“What?” he said. “I don’t wear hats.” 

“Use your earrings,” Luffy suggested. 

“Isn’t the point to keep the snowman warm? How would earrings help?” 

“Give him your jacket?” Chopper said. 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“Then I’ll warm up Zoro-snowman,” Luffy announced. 

“His name is Zoro-man.” 

Luffy leaned in and kissed the snowman on the cheek. “There, he’s warm now,” he said. 

“Don’t I get one?” Zoro muttered. 

~ 

“Anybody wanna play strip poker?” Nami asked, running her finger around the rim of her empty mug. 

“With you? I’ll pass,” Robin said. 

“Yes, please,” Sanji and Brook said together, hurrying to the table. Robin rolled her eyes and went to sit on the couch, curling up with her legs underneath her. 

Nami pulled out a deck of cards from her pocket and handed them to Sanji. “Shuffle,” she ordered. 

~ 

“I really think I got it this time,” Franky said, the lamplight burning low as he examined his inked drawing. He held it up to Usopp. “Right? Didn’t I?” 

“You did!” Usopp exclaimed, grinning. “That looks just like him! Now you just need to color it!” 

“I’ll let the ink dry first,” Franky said. He held up his hand, and Usopp high-fived him and winced. Franky set some weights on the paper to keep it in place on the table before standing and yanking Usopp to his feet. “Let’s see what curly’s got cookin’ for dinner!” 

They came up to the deck and found Zoro picking up Chopper. “Hey,” he said, seeing them. “We were about to go in.” 

“I’m hungry,” Luffy announced. 

“Of course you are,” Usopp said. “Is Chopper okay?” 

“Just tired,” Chopper said into Zoro’s shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Zoro said. 

When they entered the kitchen, they found Robin asleep on the couch, Sanji stripped down to his underwear, Brook stripped to his bones, and Nami fully clothed, putting away a deck of cards. 

“D-Dinner’s . . . almost ready,” Sanji said, shivering. 

~ 

“Huh?” Chopper said, looking at the roll of paper. He had cried when the crew surprised him with gifts, and was sitting in the kitchen among his new treasures, which included a new book from Robin and a superhero mask and cape from Usopp. “Franky, this one’s from you? It’s a sheet of paper?” 

“Unroll it,” Franky insisted. 

Chopper let the paper unroll itself, stared at it, and gasped. “It’s a new bounty!” he exclaimed. “Look, look! Thirty million!” 

His picture showed him with a proud grin facing the camera, his arms folded and brow furrowed in determination. It was expertly colored and inked, and though the drawing showed hints of amateurism, Chopper didn’t seem to notice as he excitedly showed it off to the crew. 

“Franky, you made that?” Luffy exclaimed. “That’s awesome! Maybe the Marines’ll see it and update your bounty for real!” 

“You think?” Chopper said, delighted. “Franky, thanks so much! It’s super!” 

“Aw, no problem!” Franky said, grinning. “Usopp helped a little, to be honest . . .” 

Usopp punched his arm and winced. Franky slapped him on the back, making his knees buckle. 

“I’m gonna go hang this up in the bedroom,” Chopper announced, standing. “This is my favorite birthday!” 

[mage-cat]

First Steps Home - Plan? What Plan?

The Rebellion sends a team to rescue Glimmer only for the team to discover that they are now part of an escape plan already in motion.

Part 2 of the Mending Bridges series. Start from the beginning here.

Story under the cut. ~1900 words. Link to AO3 through here.

Mara’s ship wasn’t designed to carry a large crew. That meant to when the Rebellion went to rescue Glimmer, it had to be a bare-bones strike team. Bow and Entrapta were the only ones who had any confidence with new tech on the fly, something Prime’s ship was sure to have in abundance, and Adora would be there to lead them.

Bow, who had taken up piloting duties, had been waiting for Adora to let him in on the details of the plan, figuring that something in Adora’s training--either with the Horde or Light Hope--had given her insight into what they needed to do to at least begin the rescue. He began to feel uneasy as the ship announced that they had left Etheria’s atmosphere and he still had no idea what the next step would be after finding Horde Prime’s ship.

“Um, Adora? How does a spaceship sneak up on another spaceship?”

“How much different can it be to little boat sneaking up on a big boat?”

Bow gestured at a relevant display. “We’re using tech to find Horde Prime’s ship. Isn’t it likely that he has tech that can see us the same way?”

A voice came from somewhere embedded in the ship’s controls. “Message incoming. Would you care to answer?”

Adora froze for a moment before responding, “I guess, yes.”

The ship’s largest screen was filled with a pale face, the eyes green from edge to edge. “You must be the delegation we were told to expect. Please, proceed to the docking bay. We will inform Queen Glimmer to meet you. Please, leave all weapons on your ship.” The voice was bland and clearly assumed there could be no other explanation for who they were as the face disappeared from the screen as soon as the last word was uttered.

“Was that Hordak?” Bow asked.

“No,” said Entrapta with certainty. “Hordak’s a clone, but one Horde Prime considered... nonstandard. At a guess, I would say that was an example of a more typical result of the cloning process.”

“I wonder how many of those Prime keeps around,” Adora said.

The com screen began to display a map directing their ship to the mentioned docking bay. As they flew closer, the view of the ever-growing ship began to be overwhelming. Only in space could something be so big and still move.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving our weapons behind,” Bow said.

“They said Glimmer would be there to meet us,” Adora replied. “I’m hoping our luck improves and we’ll be able to just grab her and leave.”

“I don’t think the odds of that are very good,” said Entrapta.

---

Whatever hope they had of the mission being simple died when they saw exactly who was meeting them when they got off the ship. Glimmer was there, and she was standing, back straight in her most regal posture, at Horde Prime’s right hand.

He addressed her while never looking away from the new arrivals. “Queen Glimmer, would you inform me of who I will be dealing with?”

Glimmer’s voice was nearly as bland as the earlier clone’s had been as she said, “Horde Prime, these are Adora, She-Ra of Etheria and Administrator of the technical systems that run throughout the planet, Bow of the Makers’ Guild, and Entrapta of Dryl, two the Etheria’s brightest technical minds. Entrapta is also the eldest of the Etherian royals whose realms have had dealings with the Horde. All of them have held leadership positions equal to my own in the Rebellion.”

He focused on the purple-haired woman. “Would this be the same Entrapta that my wayward clone was so intrigued by?”

“Yes, Horde Prime, the same,” Glimmer answered. Adora motioned towards the ship. Glimmer gave a tiny shake of her head and spoke again. “Sire, I would not presume to tell you what to do, but I will vouch for Entrapta’s good behavior while she is here and advise you that treating her differently from the rest of the delegation might prolong the process they are here for. Might I take them to my quarters for a briefing before we discuss negotiations?”

“You may.”

Glimmer approached the three and held her arms out in front of her. “I suggest we go the quick way.” They all knew what that was a cue for.

---

One teleport later Glimmer’s face broke into a grin. “How was my performance?”

Bow hugged her. “Unnerving!”

“I’ve been getting tutoring in placating megalomaniacs.” After returning the hug for a moment, she stepped back. “He thinks you’re here to negotiate surrender by the way.”

Before any of them could properly react to that, a delighted version of Hordak’s voice came from a gray blur descending from somewhere near the ceiling. “Entrapta!”

“Imp!” Entrapta cried as she caught the creature.

He opened his mouth, releasing a gentle female voice. “You’re safe here.” The voice twisted into sarcasm, causing the faces of the three to shift in recognition. “Prime’s been magnanimous and promised us our privacy”

“Hey, Adora.” The same voice came from a previously unnoticed corner of the room, now attached to its original source. “Bow.” Catra hesitated. “Entrapta.”

Adora began to launch herself at her, but Glimmer’s arm across her chest brought her up short.

“Stop. We would all be dead right now if it wasn’t for Catra.”

“You trust people too easily when you think they’re useful.”

“I trust my truth spells.”

“After everything she’s done?”

“She can help get my mother back. The way things went down with the portal, she knows things no one else does.” Glimmer paused as if considering if she should say the next thing. “While under the truth spell, she also said my dad’s alive.”

Bow and Adora exchanged a meaningful look, and he said, “He was on Beast Island. He’s holding down the fort at Bright Moon now. He and Shadow Weaver have a history, so he’s confined her to her room unless she’s being supervised by at least one person capable of magic.”

“Thank goodness. It saves me the trouble.”

Adora’s face hardened again. “I thought you were enjoying being Shadow Weaver’s new favorite.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so cozy with her if, instead of vaguely talking about how evil she was, you had given me some concrete examples. You know, like the fact that she had tortured children in front of you!”

“She had tortured you!”

“She didn’t do it for over a decade starting from when I was six!”

“Sparkles,” Catra broke in. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but is this the time?”

Glimmer took a steadying breath. “No, it’s not.” She turned to face Catra properly. “Think we can get the plan to work now?”

“Best chance we’re ever going to get. Entrapta, I am so glad you are alive.”

Entrapta clutched Imp closer. “No thanks to you.”

Catra bit her lip. “I thought you were turning into my enemy, and I panicked. Only an idiot would underestimate you and the damage you could do to someone if you thought you had to. I’m sorry. It would have been smarter for me to try to stay on your good side. I want to hear your theories on some things.”

Her grip on Imp relaxed a fraction. “Your potential data on the portal tech is intriguing...”

“Portal later. I promise. We need your theories on something more pressing.” Catra held out her hand, and a glowing amber orb the size of her fist began to hover above it. “How am I suddenly doing this? Could the Heart be drawing energy from more than just the planet? Could it be pulling magic from the people?”

Entrapta leaned toward the light. “Fascinating. That would explain the metric I couldn’t make sense of.” She looked up at Catra’s face “On Beast Island, there was a First Ones database, including a bunch of profiles for potential colonist species. Biological requirements, potential for dissent against imperial rule if allowed to remain on their home planets, and this one calculation that could have been how effectively they could power the Heart.”

“We know releasing all of the Heart’s energy the way it was designed would be bad, but could we return that energy back to the people?”

“I would have to take a closer look at the Heart, or at least its schematics.”

“Wait,” Adora said. “The Heart is doing what?”

Catra turned to her, the sphere of light disappearing.“Short version. Best that we can tell? Magic should be way more common in the Etherian population than it is. Anyone on the surface gets drained of their power the same way the magic of the planet itself gets collected.”

Glimmer continued. “That’s probably why Mystacor is airborne. The Princesses still have some of our magic because we are connected to the Heart through the Runestones.”

“Just some of your magic?” Entrapta asked.

“Oh yeah.” Glimmer moved her cape to one side. Her wings--which, like Queen Angella’s, were always more like solid energy that matter--still didn’t match the majestic sweep of her mother’s, but she wouldn’t be readily hiding them under a shirt again either. “I have definitely been running at a lower charge than I should have been.”

Catra spoke again. “Alright. We have a plan of action once we get back to the planet. Now to get out of here and over there.”

“Right,” said Glimmer. “Bow, Entrapta, Catra will lead you to do some industrial sabotage and, if we’re lucky, a little theft. Adora, you and I are going to go hit some things very hard. We can talk on the way.”

“Why can’t we just teleport to the ship and leave?” Adora asked.

Catra answered, “We try that and Prime will just use his transporter tech to beam us back here, and he won’t be near as polite afterwards. Hence the sabotage.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t trust any authority higher than my own, and Horde Prime thinks he is the highest authority in the universe.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Entrapta.

Adora glared at the person she had once called her best friend. “I’ll be watching you.”

“Not until Sparkles takes you to the rendezvous point.”

As the shimmer of Glimmer and Adora teleporting away faded, Catra turned to her new teammates. “Alright, first step is to see if we can steal ourselves a clone. Hordak thought conquering a planet would impress Horde Prime, but the only thing Prime is ever impressed with is himself. He doesn’t like his clones being people. As soon as we were on the ship he put Hordak under… I don’t think it was a mindwipe. I think it was a personality suppressor or something. If anyone can wake him up,” she pulled something out of a pocket and pressed it into Entrapta’s hand, “it’s you.” It was the crystal Entrapta had used to power the armor she had made for Hordak. “He was really broken up about it when he thought you had betrayed him. When he found out I had lied about that, he tried very hard to kill me for it. I may not understand what you two have going on, but I understand that it’s important to you two.”

Bow said, “So step one of your plan is...”

The look on Catra’s face said she couldn’t quite believe what she was about to say either. “To save Hordak.”

Next Chapter: Saving Who? >

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Maybe just sommat fluffy? Maven's has a bad day at work for whatever reason and Johanna's there to cheer her up in the evening with hot chocolate & cuddles?

After The Rain

Summary:  The librarian had a bad day and an unexpected meeting makes it increasingly better. Thank you for the prompt, anon! 

Notes: So this is the second part of my Between The Pages series, you can read the first part here, but it isn’t necessary to read it to understand this one.

“UGH!” The Librarian groaned as she threw herself on the bench that had been strategically positioned under a tree. She was soaked to the bone from running in the storm, and just when she arrived shelter, it had stopped raining. Fantastic. Just what she needed after a long day.

Maven did love her job at the library. Books had always been her passion, and to work with them was a blessing. But that didn’t stop her from hating the days when the teachers from Trollberg’s primary school decided they should make a field trip to her workplace to “teach children about the value of reading.”

If they insisted on doing so, they should at least watch over the little goblins, instead of leaving all the mess and annoying questions for the librarian. That, added to the fact the her favorite amethyst necklace had broken in the morning, and that her walk from the library to her house had been interrupted by the rain, had gotten her in a mood so bad she was ready to curse the first person who tried to talk to her.

“Are you okay?” Maven turned her head abruptly to the sweet voice that had talked to her. Even if the rain had stopped, the fog still lingered, and she hadn’t realized that she had company until that moment. Once her eyes could focus on the face in front of her, she instantly recognized the woman.

They had officially met a few weeks ago, on a coffee shop that both of them enjoyed, and had occasionally seen each other on the streets every now and then. Johanna was a very sweet woman, and seeing her had definitely made Maven’s readiness to curse someone dissipate.

“Sorry, I hadn’t seen you there.” Maven apologized as she tried to squeeze the water from her cape.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Maven groaned as she realized that the cape was unsalvageable. It would only make her colder, so she pushed at the clasp and made it fall down her shoulders. Her cardigan was another wet mess, and she pushed it over her head, only the white button up shirt remaining.

“What did you say?” She asked, turning back to Johanna. The woman seemed to have been staring at her, and blushed pretty when she was caught.

“I- ugh… wear this.” Lacking words and still with her face burning, she quickly took out the black leather jacket she had been wearing. She had two other layers, so she wouldn’t miss it, but the librarian looked pretty- cold. The librarian looked pretty cold, and she didn’t want the woman to catch a disease.

“Why, thank you.” Maven accepted the jacket. It was soft from how often it had been worn, and tasted like cherry and apples from Johanna’s perfume. “I would never have guessed you’d be the kind of person to like leather.”

“I’m actually not.” She chuckled as Maven put her garment on. “The mood just struck me today. But I hadn’t worn it in years!”

And she was glad she had left the house with it, she added silently. Maven looked very good in it.

“I’ll give it back to you as soon as I can.”

“No worries!” The artist chirped, merely happy she had been able to help. “Now, you still haven’t answered my question.”

Maven huffed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a really bad day, you know?”

“Really? You look pretty worn down.”

“Well, try having to deal with thirty kids and tell me how you’ll feel later.” She tightened the jacket around herself, squinting at the memory.

“Not fond of kids?”

“Most of them are all right. But if you ask me if the Queen Of England is made up or not in the middle of a room filled with books, I won’t be looking forward to our next meeting.”

Johanna laughed. “Maven, they were children!”

“Okay, fine, but couldn’t they at least try to stay quiet and not make a mess?!” Maven was aware she probably sounded like a grumpy cat lady, but there weren’t many people she could talk to about her feelings and Johanna didn’t look like she was about to judge her for her annoyance with misbehaving kids.

“You’ve got a point there. But that’s something that parents should teach their children. It isn’t their fault.” Johanna opened the sketchbook that had been lying on her lap, closed since the rain had began, and continued to add details to a drawing she was working on. “My Hilda, for instance, may be a bit… impulsive. But she is very well behaved.”

The name jogged a memory. Wasn’t that the one who went looking for information on the Marra? “You mean the blue haired girl? She’s yours?”

Johanna looked up from her drawing. “Oh, so you’ve met her.”

“Yes, she’s quite an intriguing one. You should be proud. There are already too many boring people in the world.” Maven could clearly recall the wonder she has seen on that girl’s eyes. It was something hard to find these days, the magic of someone who wasn’t afraid to not be ordinary. And now the librarian could see that Hilda had had an excellent example to grow up to when it came to uniqueness.

“Anyway. What are you drawing?”

Johanna’s hair fell over her face and covered her smile. It wasn’t often someone other than her daughter was interested in her art. “Just some flowers I found here in the park.”

Maven leaned her head towards the sketchbook. She had to admit, the woman had talent. When Maven had tried to learn how to draw, when she was barely a teen, she’d always felt like nature was the hardest thing to capture on paper. It was just way too perfect and magical and detailed to draw, but she’d be damned if she said Johanna hadn’t made a very good job of it.

The thought made her remember something.

“Hey, how did that interview go?”

Johanna sighed. She could clearly hear in Maven’s voice that the answer actually mattered to her, and while she was flattered, she didn’t want to disappoint the woman that way.

“Not very well. I didn’t make a good first impression by showing up late, and it seems there were other, more prepared people competing for the job, so-“ she shook her shoulders “I’m still in the same place.”

“Oh.” Maven breathed softly, her eyebrows drawing closer in sadness. It was clear that Johanna didn’t like the state her life was at at the moment, and she didn’t like seeing the other woman like that. “I’m sorry.”

Johanna shot her a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. There’ll be other chances. I’m sure of it.”

“Right.”, Maven nodded.

In that moment, a thunder sounded in the distance.

“Shoot. Looks like it will start raining again” Johanna turned her head to Maven. “Where do you live?”

The librarian frowned at the unexpected question. “Near the cemetery. Why?”

Shaking her head, the artist closed her sketchbook and got up. “That’s too far. You probably won’t be able to get there before the rain comes back. My house is much closer. Why don’t you stay with me until the weather gets better?”

Maven blinked. She wasn’t invited to people’s houses often, especially not to the houses of people with whom she’d only talked twice. But she supposed paying Johanna a visit wouldn’t hurt in the least. She took the hand the artist had offered her and gathered her wet clothes from the bench, being careful so as not to wet Johanna’s jacket, and got up to her feet.

“Thank you so much for your kindness.”

Johanna blushed at the genuine stare the woman was giving her. “Think nothing of it.”

_#_#_#_#_

“Hilda, I’m home!” Johanna shouted as soon as she opened the door to her apartment, Maven being a bit behind her and leaving her cape and cardigan at the top of the stairs, not wanting to wet the inside of the house.

When no reply came, Johanna turned to her. “She must still be at Frida’s. She should be back for dinner, though.”

Johanna gestured for the librarian to come in. Immediately, a white deerfox came to sniff at her feet. “That’s Twig.” She explained, “he’s my daughter’s. Just tell him if you want him to stay away.”

“That won’t be necessary” the librarian crouched down and petted the animal’s head, earning a soft sound of approval in response. “You don’t see many deerfoxes around town. Did you bring him when you moved?.”

Johanna nodded.

“He’s lovely. Do you have any other pets?”

Avoiding the question, Johanna snapped her fingers. “I have an idea! Why don’t I make us hot chocolate to take the chill out of our bones?”

Maven shrugged. “I’d like that.” She was beginning to think that she’d take any possible excuse to spend time near this woman.

“You’re welcome! Make yourself at home, it shouldn’t take long.”

With that she dashed out to the kitchen and left Maven to look around the house. The first thing the librarian noticed was Johanna’s drawing table. She didn’t touch anything for fear of taking her projects out of their order, but that didn’t stop her from admiring Johanna’s talent from afar. It really looked like she put her soul in every drawing.

She moved on to the nearest window, watching the rain fall outside. Johanna had been right. When they had been at the door of her building, the rain had come back full force. It was dark outside so she couldn’t see how heavy the clouds were; the apartment was too bright and there was very little light outside, the result being that Maven could only see her own reflection.

After a minute or two, though, Maven noticed a sound other than the rain falling against the window and the clatter of kitchen utensils. It was very faint, like something being scratched. Like someone was… writing?

Maven pushed the curtain even further back, revealing a small creature sitting on the windowsill, looking at her with wide eyes at having been caught.

“An elf? Does Johanna know you are in her house?” Maven whispered, not sure of the answer.

“Aha! You can see me! I knew you were a witch!” The small being raised his even smaller pencil in a gesture of success, though he didn’t have any judgement in his voice, just the happiness of someone who had their theory confirmed.

“Don’t say that! People aren’t supposed to know!” Of course the elf had figured it out. He had never seen her, so he knew she hadn’t signed the paperwork, and well, what was the one kind of human who could see elves naturally? Still, she didn’t want Johanna to find out. Not yet, at least.

“Oops, sorry!” The creature covered his mouth with his hands. “Answering your question, Mum does know I live here! Hilda and I had her sign all the necessary paperwork!”

“Okay, then.” This was a most curious situation. She couldn’t say she wasn’t intrigued as to why Johanna had an elf in her home.

Maven went back to watching the droplets of rain on the window and the elf continued scribbling notes, and they were both still at it when the scent of chocolate in the living room became stronger than before.

They both looked up when the clicking sound of Johanna’s feet on the wood floor came close to them. “There you are!” She smiled and handed her a steaming black cup, holding a red one on her other hand. “Hope you like it.”

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath to fill her lungs with the delicious smell, and then blew on the liquid even though she knew it wouldn’t make much of a difference to its temperature.

Johanna was about to bring her own cup to her lips when a high pitched voice startled her. “That’s smelling really good, Mum! What did you make?”

“Oh, Alfur. I didn’t see you there.” Johanna’s eyes widened as she found the elf just beside where Maven was leaning against the windowsill, and her voice wavered. What must Maven be thinking? That she had an invisible child somewhere? That there was a spirit in her house? How was she supposed to explain this? This was really not the type of impression she wanted to make on the librarian.

Noticing Johanna’s distress, which was clearly written on her face, Maven decided to put the woman out of her misery. “It’s hot cocoa. If there’s cutlery your size here I could give you a few drops of mine.” She said as she looked at the elf.

“Oh, thank you, Miss! Hilda carved me a bowl from a piece of wood she found, it must be somewhere in her room. I’ll be back in a second!” Saying that, the small creature jumped to the ground and ran as fast as his tiny legs could take him to the corridor on Maven’s right.

“You can see him?” Johanna asked wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. Maven thought that the shocked look looked quite adorable on her.

“I’m a librarian” she answered with a shrug. “That means I know a lot of things. I found out about elves years ago, and of course, I searched for one of them to sign the paperwork.”

That was a lie, but Johanna really didn’t need to know the truth for now. “Oh!” The artist exclaimed as she rubbed her arm, seeming relieved and nervous at the same time. “That’s good. I was afraid you were going to think I was a lunatic.”

One of the librarian’s eyebrows shot up. “Being a lunatic wouldn’t be what would help you to get rid of me, Johanna.”

She blushed prettily and looked at the ground. “Why don’t we watch a movie while we wait for the rain to pass? There must be something good on at the moment.”

“Sounds good.”

Johanna led her guest to the sofa, where they both sat down. They weren’t close enough for their legs to be touching, but they weren’t as far apart as one would expect from two people who were practically strangers, either.

The remote control was in Johanna’s hand, and the glow from the TV had them both squinting for a second before their eyes adjusted themselves. Just as she began searching through the channels, Maven felt her leggings being tugged at by something. Looking down, she saw the elf again.

“Miss?” He said as he lifted his little bowl is askance. Maven chuckled. She had to admit, the being was kind of adorable.

“There you go, little guy.” She lowered her cup down to his level, and he dipped his bowl in it with a smile.

“Thank you so much!” He said and then walked away to the same room he had just come from.

Maven sat back and watched her host’s face, noticing it was adorned by a slight frown. “Is everything okay?”

Her face opened up and she turned her gaze to the librarian. “Yeah! It’s just I hadn’t realized how close we are to Christmas yet. I’ve already skipped like, three holiday movies.” The corners of her mouth quirked up. “Hilda will probably want to put up decoration soon.”

Still scrolling through the channels, she asked. “Do you celebrate Christmas, Maven?”

Maven shrugged. “Yule, actually. But both holidays have similar spirits so I don’t feel out of place amidst all the trees and ribbons and lights.”

“Yeah, I heard once that most Christmas traditions come from Yuletide. Oh, this movie is good!”

Maven looked at the screen and lifted her eyebrows. “Parent Trap? Really?”

“We can look for another one, if you want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just didn’t think you were a children’s movie lover. Though I should have thought, you do look the sort.”

Johanna crossed her arms. “Is that a compliment?”

“Maybe.” Maven answered with a playful smile tugging at her lips. She found that trate quite cute, actually, even though she was more of a mystery movie person herself.

They fell into comfortable silence, just enjoying the movie. That is, they were enjoying the movie, until Maven felt something weight her left shoulder down and realized with a start that it was Johanna’s head. Her heart began beating in a wild rhythm as the scent of cherry and apples hit Maven’s senses for the second time that evening. Luckily, she realized that the woman had simply fallen asleep and accidentally leaned into her before she could have a heart attack.

Relaxing once more, she tried to turn her focus back to the television to no avail. She was very tempted to put a stray curl of Johanna’s hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ear, but she knew that if the woman woke up she’d probably think Maven was creepy, so she twisted her hand on her black skirt to hold herself back.

Not half an hour later, when the librarian had already finished her cocoa and placed her mug on the coffee table, Johanna woke up with a start as she heard her phone ring. Slightly disoriented, she looked around herself in confusion before she remembered what she had been doing before falling asleep, and realizing who it was that she had been using as a pillow.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” She jumped away from the librarian and covered her mouth with her hands, chuckling a bit behind them. “I, uh, it wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s okay.” Maven waved it off. In fact it would be more okay if it had been intentional, but she wasn’t about to say that.

The woman excused herself to pick up the call and turned to Maven as soon as she was finished, looking slightly downcast. “It was the mother of my daughter’s friend. She just wanted to say that now that the rain is gone, Hilda’s on her way back.”

Both of their gazes turned to the window, and surely enough, there were no new drops of water joining the others on the glass. Maven realized that she had probably overstayed her welcome.

“Oh, I’ll go home, then.” She said as she got up and straightened her skirt.

“Y-you don’t have to. If you don’t want to, I mean.” Johanna said a little nervously.

“I appreciate the hospitality, but I probably should get going.” The librarian looked down at herself and realized she was still wearing Johanna’s jacket. “I should probably give you this back, too.”

“No need to!” Johanna realized she’d said it way too quickly when Maven looked at her with a curious expression. “You can give it back to me some other day. It’s cold outside and your other clothes probably aren’t dry yet. Besides, it looks better on you anyway.”

It was Maven’s time to blush. She looked at the ground, making her short hair fall over her face, and whispered “I find that hard to believe”. But Johanna didn’t listen (or at least didn’t acknowledge it) and headed straight for the door, the librarian following her closely. The woman opened the door for her guest and smiled.

“It was very nice having you here, Maven. I hope we can spend more time together in the future.”

Crouched down and gathering her humid clothes from the floor, Maven smiled at Johanna. “Likewise. If you ever want to talk to me, you know where to go.”

Johanna lifted an eyebrow. “Amongst the kids asking you whether or not the Queen of England is real?”

Maven rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately.”

They both giggled and said their goodbyes once more before Maven began going down the stairs. She would never know, but Johanna only closed the door once her raven strands were completely out of sight.

And Johanna would never know, but that night the black leather jacket was hanged on Maven’s bed frame, where she could catch whiffs of apple perfume while she slept.

What she would know, though, is that unless explicitly asked, Maven wasn’t planning on giving said jacket back. Johanna couldn’t say she could bring herself to care.

[purplesurveys]

801

1. Candyland: What is your favorite type of candy? Gummies. I’m not really into chocolate or caramel candies. 2. Chutes & Ladders: Do you have a fear of going up on ladders? Does your house have a laundry chute somewhere? I’ve never had to climb up a ladder but I do think I could just as well have a fear of it since as a kindergartener I was always afraid of going up the jungle gyms. I don’t know what a laundry chute is. 3. Operation: How many surgeries have you had in your lifetime? Zero, thank goodness. The idea of having to be put under and then being sliced open makes me feel faint lmao. 4. Sorry!: Do you sometimes apologize, even when it’s not your fault? Yes, abusive people can make you pick it up as a habit. 5. Game of Life: What is your greatest accomplishment thus far? What do you hope to do with the rest of your life? I count getting into my university as my biggest accomplishment so far, but I know I can still do so much more. I don’t really have a specific career goal, but I do want to ultimately be the best at whatever job I end up in and to be the happy with whoever I end up becoming.

6. Cootie: Did you really used to think that boys/girls had cooties? No...I never heard of those until I was ten watching American cartoons. 7. Trouble: What is something big that you got into a lot of trouble for? My algebra grades in high school. I almost flunked freshman algeb and nearly had to go to summer school. Math was never my strong suit in those days, heh. 8. Puzzles: When was the last time you felt puzzled/confused? How often do you feel like you don’t fit in? The other day while making Gab’s surprise birthday video. I had never made a video before, so the program itself was very foreign to me and at first I doubted I could ever come up with anything. Luckily my sister, who is in film school, was such a big help in helping me get acquainted with the different features and buttons haha. As for feeling like I don’t fit in, I haven’t really felt that a lot in the last couple of years. Other than my experience with AIESEC, I’ve been a lot better in dealing with different groups of people and adjusting to their interests and personalities.  9. Hungry Hungry Hippos: What’s your favorite meal to eat? A nice juicy burger usually works for me. 10. Uno: Can you count to ten in another language? If so, which language? Filipino, Spanish, and Korean. 11. Go Fish!: Have you ever been fishing before? No. I've always lived in the city so I’ve never been exposed to fishing. It’s very common for those living in the province, though. 12. Old Maid: Did you ever have a maid in your house, growing up? We had house help for a short time when we first moved into our house. But because my mom is super organized and very particular about it, we went through like 15 house help in total before she realized she’d rather do everything herself. There were three who stayed longer than a few months because my mom found them very good, but they all wanted to go back to the province eventually so we had to give them up. Most stayed for like a day or two, a week at most. 13. Simon Says: Did you always do everything you were told as a child? I think so, yeah. 14. Red Light, Green Light: When you approach a yellow light, are you more likely to slow down or speed up? Depends if I’m in a hurry or not. 15. Are you any good at jump rope, hopscotch, or hula hooping? Have you ever used a pogo stick before? I can do the first three. I’ve never used a pogo stick and have only seen it in cartoons. Looks fun but I also know I’d break my bones using them lol. 16. Do you prefer chalk or bubbles? Two very different things, but I remember loving bubbles as a kid. My only encounter with chalk was when we’d draw a hopscotch court on the ground, so yeah not a lot of interaction with it. 17. Did you used to go on a lot of bike rides as a child? Not really. My lola always told us we couldn’t go too far away from home, so I followed her. 18. Capture the Flag: What is your country’s flag? What about your state’s flag, if you have one? The Philippine flag has a white triangle at the left side with three stars symbolizing our three main islands, and a sun with its eight rays symbolizing the eight provinces that had big contributions in the 1896 revolution against Spain. On the right, the flag is divided into blue on top symbolizing peace, and red symbolizing patriotism. The two colors can be switched depending if the country’s at war. 19. Tic Tac Toe: When you played, were you the “hugs” or the “kisses”? I dunno, I picked whatever symbol I felt like picking if someone would ask me to play. 20. Have you ever won a game of Marco Polo in the pool without cheating? I’ve never played Marco Polo because I don’t know how the game works. Not very common here. 21. Scrabble: Are you any good at spelling? Yes. I was That student who aced all the spelling quizzes in English class lol. 22. While playing rock, paper, scissors, which do you usually throw down first? I always mix it up. 23. Were you always stuck being the pickle in the middle? I don’t know what this means. 24. Limbo: How low can you go? We never really played this. 25. When playing, did you usually pick “Truth” or “Dare”? Truth, because I have no problem telling it and people usually pick pretty shitty dares for you to do. 26. Have you been involved in any innocent games of Spin the Bottle or 7 Minutes in Heaven? No. Not common games here. I didn’t even know about 7 Minutes in Heaven until I watched 13 Going on 30 when I was like, 14 lolol. 27. Twister: Are you a flexible person (figuratively or literally)? I’m not very physically flexible. I can adjust for a lot of situations, though. 28. Did you used to pretend that the floor was lava? Kinda? In my old school there was a line pattern on the school grounds, and when I would walk I’d try not to hit any of the lines. 29. Guess Who: Are you any good at guessing games? Sure. 30. Clue: Do you think that you would be able to successfully solve a murder case? No, I don’t really like brainteasers like those. 31. Mouse Trap: Have you ever felt trapped before, in some way? Of course, in various ways. I’ve felt trapped at home, in my course, in my own head, etc. 32. Labyrinth: Have you ever gotten lost in a maze? No, that sounds terrifying and just reminds me of The Shining, eugh. 33. Jenga: Are you careful about what choices you make in life? I try to not be reckless, at least. 34. Bop it or Skip-it? Neither. 35. Tag: Are you in shape? Do you enjoy running? I wouldn’t say I am, but my body is also not in an unhealthy shape. I hate running. 36. Kickball: Did you kick the ball over the fence a lot as a kid? No. Houses here don’t really have fences. 37. Are you any good at mini-golf? No, never played. 38. Telephone: What do you do with a rumor once it’s been told to you? I didn’t really get a lot of rumors about me. The one time I did, it was so stupid I told our head teacher about it to put it to rest immediately. 39. Hide and Seek: Have you ever hid so well that it felt like it took somebody forever to find you? What was your best hiding spot? No. I don’t like making people nervous for too long. I didn’t have a hiding spot. 40. What Time Is It, Mr. Fox?: When were you old enough to tell time on an analog clock as opposed to a digital one? Hahahaha I don’t actually remember. I wanna say 8 years old? 41. Mother May I: Did you always ask your parents for permission? Yes. Always better for them to know what I’m up to than sneaking out and being caught. 42. Follow the Leader: Can you be bossy at times? I can be bossy all the time. 43. Monopoly: Are you good with your money/finances? If I absolutely have to save, like if Christmas is coming up, I’ll surprise myself at how good I can be. Most of the time though I like treating myself :/ Lmao. 44. Chess: Have you ever wanted to be king/queen? Only when I was younger. I’d wear a blanket around and pretend it was a cape. 45. Play-doh or Slime? Ooh that’s a toughie, those are my favorite kinds of toys. I did grow up with Play-Doh though and even had a Play-Doh Factory, so I’d go with that. [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse] 

[starryskylullaby]

since i’ve had these in my head for a while, we’ll do julian wedding HCs first

so my personal wish for the route end (upright lol) was for esther and julian to save up a little while and buy that boat--the one like they found in death’s realm--and then one day not too far off, quietly sail away from vesuvia.

it isn’t that they’re planning on just not coming back or being gone forever or anything, but they know there’s going to be so much to-do about them leaving and they just want to keep things simple and quiet. they sail to every port julian can think of--and some he’s never been to himself. they search for adventures and treasures and for esther’s family, they meet new people and learn new magic and see amazing things... and they get married.

at first it’s an accident--they wander somewhere far where they don’t speak the language and find themselves crashing a communal wedding ceremony. there are flowers and music and a huge feast, and when they realize what’s happening as they’re draped with flower wreaths and given matching stones they shrug, and smile. “would you like my family name, darling?” he asks with a grin and offers his hand. “i haven’t one of my own,” she replies with a pleased smile, “and i do very much like yours.”

but then in the next port, there’s another wedding. and in the next, another--and again in the one after that, and the one after that--and they write pasha and the others and laugh together over the parchment when they do. we’ve gotten married again, they write with flourish, and borova is lovely! (the others roll their eyes affectionately as portia reads each new letter. they’ve taken to doing voices now.) spring and summer, into autumn and fall and then all over again, even.

they keep all of the rings, all of the necklaces and cords and there was a cape, once; another time a stone, once a carved bit of bone....they keep them in a chest onboard, but wear their favorites. the necklace from drakr, the rings from  eberin. some of the cords are hung around the bed, others esther's made into little charms or windchimes, and of course they remember the vows of each one (though admittedly some better than others). esther's favorites are the song vows, and julian likes the ones that sound like poetry. they come in handy when they're angry with each other, rare though that might be--sometimes they'll argue, and if things draw out or get a bit too heated one will just start reciting one of their favorite vows to end it. they married each other over and over for a reason; sometimes they just need to remind themselves of that. and then the nights when julian's had a nightmare, the nights when they can't sleep, esther sings her favorites while they're curled up in bed. julian laces his fingers with hers and sings back, and they laugh, from time to time, remembering that technically one of them, both of them, are captains, and they've essentially just married each other again--not that they mind at all.

by the time they do reach travario and realize this place is esther’s home, they’ve been married more times than they can count--but they still marry again, this time in the royal hall of the travarian palace, with the queen herself overseeing the ceremony. (of course, that’s only to be expected when the queen is your sister.) queen illaria offers them land and their own keep in wake of the beautiful ceremony, but they refuse it; there is one more wedding they’ve got to have before they can settle anywhere.

when they sail back to vesuvia, at last, they’re met at the docks by their excited friends--and their excited friends are met by julian and esther...and a little baby girl with a fluff of auburn hair.