#but like last week I was going insane over Hector and this week I’m going insane over Paris

[literallyjusttoa]

Guys I think Troy is becoming my Roman Empire.

[kkeidawrites]

Castlevania spoilers!!!! If you don’t want to know how the show ends in season 4 please refrain from reading the rest of this post because I’m not holding back! Also I’m writing this as I watched so, this is my raw review!

Okay, so first off I want to say personally, I loved how season 4 brought heat to the finale of the show. Although I’m sad as hell that this is the last season for a great show.

Episode 1: Murder Wakes It Up- I thought that it was cool to see Trevor and Sypha fighting again after what happened in S3, obviously they are tired from the long four week journey of fighting night creatures, skeleton zombies, vampires from different countries, etc. but clearly the end game is that humans and vampires alike are working together to bring back Dracula. Like seriously, y’all might not know this but I hate, HATE when children become involved in stupid shit like human sacrifices like I can’t. Not the children. Please, not the babies. Sypha complaining she’s becoming like Trevor, and she’s so cute when she curses lol. Then when they arrive in Targoviste we have some new faces as potential enemies. I thought they were lame honestly lol I couldn’t take Barney-Larney whatever his dumbass was; he was mad annoying.

Then they shift over to Alucard…I have never seen a more broken beautiful drunk man in all my life. Like I had S3 flashbacks. He’s asked for help from a messenger who ended up dying on the way to the castle but his horse made sure he continued the journey and Alucard received the message for help in Danesti. Alucard fights with the horse, I thought that was funny. He was thoughtful enough to bury the rider, that was very sweet of him.

Also, shirtless Alucard will be engraved in my mind for life. Whew, chile that’s one fine man. He’s beginning to talk like Belmont and I can’t help how hilarious that is.

Episode 2: Having the World: Quite honestly this episode to me was meh. Hector talking with Lenore about how he needs this and that to create his hammer to continue forgemastering then Lenore talks with Carmilla and the white haired bat talks about how she is going to rule the world and what not, clearly losing her sanity.

Then it shifts over to Trevor and Sypha and they are fighting in a barn and new character Zamfir. Her character for me was also meh, but it’s nice to see more PoC in the show.

Episode 3: Walk Away: I liked this episode a lot. Issac altogether was nice enough to sit down and talk with a night creature and tell him/them that they were free of their original program, which was: eating humans, causing destruction, used as tools to forge masters. But man when he received that berry from Issac he realized that there is still some kind of humanity in them.

Issac is contacted by Varney to bring back Dracula but, Issac wants no business with that; he doing his own thing and seeing him being sassy again is so refreshing.

Morana and Striga scenes!!! I loved them, and then there was Striga’s day armor, man listen…I have never felt more closer to watching Berserk again than in that moment. They are hesitant to return back to Styria when Carmilla calls them, and it puts them in a bind to return home to continue through with Carmilla’s plans.

Sypha being annoyed by Zamfir was me the entire time. How you gone run a kingdom again with out a kingdom. Like girl, help the people instead of the royals, my god.

Episode 4: You Must Sacrifice: A cute little Trevor and Sypha scene. They decide to investigate Targoviste more before helping Zamfir. The scene shifts and Alucard is riding towards Danesti, donning a shield and a longer cape. Monsters are attacking the walls of the village, villagers are on the other side waiting to defend themselves. Some Castlevania popular screenshots appear here.

Then we meet Greta…Miss thang…that’s one beautiful woman okay. And she’s the chief of the village, cares for her people? Y’all I present. Her. And the fact that she is sassy too? I rock with her heavy as hell.

Saint Germain meets Alucard and I have a weird vibe coming from him. We see Saint Germain’s backstory or what little it will show us; he had a whole girlfriend, she a baddie too. Apparently she was like him? And she was the silhouette we saw in S3. Cool scene, inside the Infinite Corridor and I liked the library scene a lot too. Now he’s on a rampage trying to find access to the Infinite Corridor again to find his girl and he also wants to bring back Dracula? The fuck?

Refugees arrive at Danesti, and Saint Germain is acting very strange indeed. Like he’s desperate to go to the castle to help with the village “defenses”. Alucard agrees I guess? And he says another Belmont comment which I was happy to see again in the season.

Episode 5: Back in the World: Alucard leads Greta, Saint Germain and the villagers to his castle but, encounter a couple of night creatures on the way. Greta does Saint Germain y’all and I’m with her 100%. Alucard’s powers have definitely improved from last season. It was kind of interesting how Alucard willing told Greta what happened with him and you know who, kind of early in my opinion. Greta is bisexual?!!!! I love her 1000% now! I sense some chemistry between Greta and Alucard. I like that a lot.

Lenore really like annoys my soul, I do not like this mini bitch. I didn’t really care what Lenore and Hector talked about🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️sue me. Bruh Greta, beating that monster’s ass with just a hammer and a sword?! And Alucard impressed by it?! I’m here for it!! Some cute moments between Alucard and Greta got me gushing over here😝😝. Poor puppy😢😢. Alucard decides to “grow up” which I think is a nice step forward. Saint Germain is really making me mad.

They arrive at the castle and here goes Saint Germain acting like a fan boy, I mean who wouldn’t but you know…Greta killed me when she said the castle was ugly as hell lol. Another little cutesy scene between Alucard and Greta. Like I really like their chemistry y’all I’m sorry.

Trevor and Sypha demand that Zamfir take responsibility to help the people and I forgot what it was called but, before that they are attacked and Zamfir has something placed on her neck by a night creature.

Then Issac, he’s ready to fuck some shit up. And I’m here for it. Get em, bitch!

Episode 6: You Don’t Deserve My Blood: Carmilla’s castle is attacked by Issac’s night creatures. Lenore old punk ass running away does not surprise me in the slightest. Hector betrays Lenore and locks her in a cage. Hector has contact with Saint Germain like what? I don’t understand but, Issac comes in and it looks like Hector has given up, wanting to die honestly. Issac decides against killing him and Hector asks for his knife. This boy cuts his ring finger that the Lenore placed the ring, in front of her. That scene was meh, I thought he would get pissed at her for what she’s done to him in S3 but, I guess not.

Issac literally stole this episode, from his fight with the vampires and night creatures to Carmilla that shit was -chef’s kiss- magnifico! I loved the animation the fight scenes, yooo I was hyped the whole episode.

Morana and Striga make their decision to go their own way, living their own lives in the west so, bittersweet ending with them, I wanted to actually Striga fight the main trio but, whatever I guess.

Hector still has plans to bring back Dracula and asks Issac if he’s doing the same. Issac has other plans obviously, and tells Hector that they need to find their path in their lives. I feel Hector never knew where he was supposed to be placed in the world but Issacs words are very inspiring in my opinion. May have woke Hector’s dumbass up a bit.

Episode 7: The Great Work: Varney and the other guy, I really forgot his name found out about the catacombs and head there. Trevor and Sypha demand Zamfir take them underground, which to me I think it’s nothing there but her shit. Sypha gets mad at Zamfir and I’m with her, how you part of the royal guard when the people above need your help girl my god.

The cutest scene ever in this episode, was when the kids from Danesti wanting to play with Alucard and this boy jumps off the highest part of the castle just to show off. There should be more scenes of soft Alucard with children. Saint Germain is placing these weird stones it looks like in the castle walls. What is going on with him?

More Alucard and Greta moments please and thank you. The artwork in the castle is fucking phenomenal work. Saint Germain just gave the location to a vampire it looks like, from episode 4 maybe? He looks familiar.

There is a freaking army coming to the castle…lord Jesus. Like can they catch a break please? The kids just got settled.

Trevor and Sypha go to the catacombs and it’s just as bad as the people above grounds. New weapon acquired for Trevor, pretty dope. The king and Queen are dead and Zamfir is officially insane. She really thinks that the king and Queen will come back alive and protect their people like she’s done them. Sypha tries to talk to her, that puts her in a weird daze, Trevor is just being Trevor. Varney and his lackey, come to the catacombs looking to kill I really do not know that man’s name y’all so I apologize for not giving a damn about him lol.

The castle is about to be under siege, I’m not ready. Having a whole heart attack over here from nerves.

Episode 8: Death Magic: Varney and his partner attack the people in the catacombs, Varney is looking for a giant mirror? Why I don’t know. Poor Trevor and Sypha they are soooo tired, I feel so bad for them. Zamfir is actually not bad of a fighter, I like that. Sypha still the goat, no cap.

The castle is under attack, it’s actually nice to see how diverse the vampires are in this show, you can tell what countries their from and I think that’s dope as hell. And then every time a human dies their souls are transferred to Saint Germaine? So is this another S3 human sacrifice crap again? Omg…I’m so sick of that. Saint Germain uses the key he received from the woman in the Infinite Corridor and it creates the symbol of the corridor’s portal.

Here goes Alucard being a badass again, I never tire of him being one. Greta holding it down too is really cool, I don’t care what nobody say, she is that bitch. Her and that hammer, a force to be reckoned with.

Everyone is overwhelmed and have no choice but to evacuate to the castle, right before those doors closed Alucard nods to her to leave him out to fight and she looks at him like boy bye. Get yo ass in this castle. Greta pulling Alucard in just shows they are compatible for one another. Even the playful banter between them is cute.

The discovery of the stones in the walls leads Greta and Alucard to his childhood bedroom and they find Saint Germain where he reveals he’s opening the Infinite Corridor to bring back Dracula by using death magic. Petty Saint Germain, I do not like him bro.

They have to deal with him later though to fight off the night creatures that got into the castle. Greta still holding it down.

Trevor and the vampire guy is still fighting but, Trevor being so tired he’s slowing a bit, and honestly I don’t know how he’s still able to function at this point. Sypha shows off her powers like a G that she is and Zamfir is doing some great damage with the knives she’s got and that’s crazy how little knives can do to the body.

Did Sypha always have lightning powers? I don’t remember. If it’s new I love it! Trevor’s almost killed but a woman and child save him in time but, unfortunately Zamfir is stabbed in the stomach when the vampire moves to kill them both. I’m going to be honest I didn’t really care for Zamfir’s character she was just…there lol.

Then that scene with Sypha basically incinerating the rest of the monsters is fire!!! No pun intended lol. Varney finds the mirror and steps through it where Saint Germain is. Trevor and Sypha goes through the mirror as well but in a different location in the castle.

Episode 9: The Endings: This whole episode was literally the best of the best in any other seasons. The fight scenes, the banter, the main three…oh my God I loved it all. Noooooo, the dolls!!!!!! You bastards!!!! Trevor and Sypha’s entrance was perfect. Muah! Perfecto! The rock monsters really confused me on how they were killed but you know what who cares?

Alucard has wings?!!!!! What?!!!!!!!!! The general of the caravan have brought in the man woman thingy to Saint Germain. Death has appeared. His character design is dope af. Noooo not mom and dad!!! Nooo! Poor Alucard had to witness his parents literally in pain and of course Trevor ends it again, somehow Saint Germain redeemed himself almost?

The four vampires fighting the main trio had me running for my money. I liked the whole scene it was nice to see at least one or two vampires almost have the upper hand on the main trio.

That general vampire? His fight was wild, throwing his arm as it was about to explode and use it against Trevor was genius. And main trio…they don’t need to have a plan to fight they just work so well together that it works out in end.

Trevor vs. Death. Also was that the first time Trevor told Sypha he loved her? I can’t remember. Anyway, back to the final battle. The quality of the fight, the sheer power between both characters, and then he goes and sacrificed himself like Trevor are you deadass? You deadass died? Unacceptable. And then episode just ends.

Episode 10: It’s Been a Strange Ride: Lenore died so lame, and she was drunk as well when she died. I really won’t be missing her because she was just a character I very much disliked. Hector is finally free, little dumbass.

I wanna see what Issac is up to and Morana and Striga seems appropriate. But oh well, I hope they are happy wherever they are.

Tombstone for Trevor, it’s not real. He ain’t dead, I don’t believe that. Omg, Greta and Alucard are together?!!! Whoooooo!!! And the village kids are calling him father? Yasssssssssssss!!!!! I’m here for it. Alucard saying he’s not used to people is 100% me in public I don’t like being around a lot of people and it doesn’t help I have anxiety either. Sypha being pregnant was a given she looked a little thicker in the hips from episode one. She can’t leave…we need her. Really Castlevania creators? Y’all gone play with all our hearts? Thinking Trevor was dead and he gone pop up on a horse?

And look at this⤵️⤵️

He’s smiling, happy, soft, has a boo thang I’m….😭😭😭I’m so happy.

Y’all….all in all this was a great ending to the show…a great ending…

Oh wait…wait…wait wait wait, mom and dad are alive?!!! But how? You know what I don’t care their going to travel to England and their heart shaped embrace is everything. Oh no I’m crying again….

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[claybefree]

A Letter to Josh Poteat

To be honest, I don’t know why I’m writing you this. It should have been the art I made for my ex-wife Mary in 1995, that she gave back to me in 2008 after I left her, that I later put in the trash. The art you told me recently got you working with shellac. It should be that I’m giving you, instead of this depressing thing about how I haven’t spoken with the oldest of my children in almost nine months, and the younger not since two Christmases ago. 

I guess because when we talked about it before, I can’t remember exactly, maybe you asked in passing, “How’s the kids?” and I didn’t have an answer at the time. Maybe because I think you’ll understand me, like you always did. I haven’t been sleeping again lately, and this is when my mind wanders to the man I read about who died, trapped in a cave, but I don’t want to tell you about him. It’s too awful. If I find my mind lingering on him, I get seized by a whole body panic and I have to get up.

When I first got sober and couldn’t sleep, I went to war nightly with God. My mind was a scorched battlefield, blackened, shelled earth churned from trenches to craters. These days it resembles Zone Rogue in France, given back to nature and forbidden, saturated with ordnance, hundred year old arsenic lingering in craters. The toxic woods, wild and hoary, haunted now by deer and wild boar, trenches filled in with vines.

There is this vision I carry, not quite of myself- An old man alone in a mouldering trailer in the woods, bitter, childless and insane. No doubt, you have known such men. When I first got sober, he figured heavily in my mind- I considered this an alcoholic death even if I managed to stay clean. 

It’s cold mornings like these- when I’m up early to feed the yowling cats, but again not quite early enough to manage to write, I wonder if perhaps he’s already arrived. I get on my worn out coat hanging by the leaky back door I haven’t fixed yet and head out into the frozen mud to free the chickens from their coop. The cracked tile floating underfoot like a shit-covered mosaic, and I remember to grab the screwdriver. I’m not using it to kill anyone, it’s to prize the eight little half-domes of ice from cups of their watering bucket. You know how this works. I always figured that, being a country-boy, you grew up with the same tales of horrors perpetrated against these birds, or else, like me, witnessed them firsthand. 

Summer gets up and I finish my coffee with her as she tapes up my sprained hand. I try to get out the door before her kids wake. To facilitate quiet conversations that have a better chance of happening if I’m not around.

Pointing the truck toward Southside, it’s crossing the Powhite bridge where it really starts to bother me. Likely because it’s this point on the other side of the bridge, I’m only a mile away from their house. I ignore the river, bloated and steel grey,  I’m looking for the nameless creek that empties into it there. I’m sure you know it, completely fabricated, it passes under Forest Hill and the train tracks. It’s cold outside the cab of my truck, but I’m not fooled by the last groan of winter. Studying the woods alongside the road, accessible as they aren’t yet burdened but the weight of all that green, I’m not sure what I'm looking for. Lost children perhaps. The sandy stretch where it emerges from snaking around behind the toll station is lined there with birches, flaking and slender, and shouldered with granite as it runs fast from a glut of late March thaw.

I’ve been going this way for a little over a month, filling a friend’s garage with sawdust from fabricating casework for bookshelves, paying particular attention to whatever happens to be going on with the creek as it seems to determine the flavor of grief for that week. Throughout the winter It’s been ever present, with me to the point I feel like there's something wrong, like a vitamin supplement I'm not taking. 

Even though it’s been a string of bad days, the garage is warm enough, and I’ve been doing this work long enough I can rip down material on the table saw letting sadness wash over me without worry of losing a finger. I pay special attention to the music I listen to, so that I don’t have to take time and fall apart. At the end of the day I’ll sweep the dust-pile under the saw into a bucket for the chickens. There’s a ruined tire from the Harley I keep filled for them to bathe in. Which reminds me I haven’t told you about Greg the Bastard.

 When Summer brought them home a year ago as chicks, they were unsexed, and as they grew, we inadvertently wound up with two roosters. Even though Greg is much bigger, he’s still number two and it’s made him skittish and unpredictable. Fierce Greg the Magnificent, Hen Raping Greg. He charges the dog as well as the kids now, and he’s even started to buck up on me. He stalks the yard like boys and men you and I have both known all our lives- insecure, large and dangerous. He doesn’t scare me, I’m more afraid the day will come when I will have to kill this animal. 

In my twenties, Liz King, who you might know, got me a job after school let out with a woman I won’t name here. Another artist, she lived in an old farmhouse down Jeff Davis Highway and had been sexually assaulted by a man there. My job was to help powder and paint the place in order to put it on the market as she didn’t feel safe there anymore. We painted the whole inside. Flying the back roads in her pick-up to some Paint store way out Hull street, she told me how the man had befriended her dogs beforehand and how he threatened to kill her if she looked at him. I don’t remember asking her about it, just the image of her long legs in cut-off shorts clutching and shifting the small truck all over Southside. I made it most mornings, except after getting home late from a Rancid show in Hampton, I was too hungover and didn’t get to her place til well after noon. She was gone, but had worked the whole morning by herself. Later that day, when I called Liz to tell her how I fucked up, she fired me over the phone. 

I bring all this up because she owned a lone rooster named Ajax, who hated me. Specializing in ambush tactics, I wasn’t safe anywhere in the yard from Ajax. The lady usually escorted me in from the gate, but heading out to the shed was dangerous. I can still feel him on the backs of my bare legs. Once, while rolling the living room ceiling and overwhelmed by the fumes of oil based primer, I stepped out on the front porch to dry heave a minute and catch my breath. Ajax heard and came stalking around the corner. Incapacitated, I cussed him, but head lowered, he came for me, creeping up the steps one terrible talon at time. 

Later I made a six foot tall portrait of Ajax as best I could remember him. Crimson comb like a child’s depiction of fire out of control, waddles surrounding the beak blazing and reckless. The emerald of the sickle feathers a cyclone of green. Hock, shank and spur a series of harsh, black lines. Very Twombly-esque, it’s still hanging in my dad’s office. Based on this one hangover, I went on to make work for the next ten years depicting the Battle of Troy as a series of cock-fights. Achilles the Terrible dragging Man-killing Hector through the streets of Troy. That sort of thing. The drawing I made Mary came from that run. 

I go home by way of the Huguenot bridge, because the Nickel bridge takes me directly in front of the house where my children live, which no matter how I’m doing, always threatens to cave my head in. If I go that way, I always think about stopping, and kneeling outside in the cold, perfect grass, with the thought if I wait long enough they might come out to see me.

I know it’s merely grief, the same garden variety of depression, that Chris Cornell said in an interview once was no less dangerous and could just as easily land a man on the end of a rope. 

But that is not my way. I’ll drive home to Summer and her kids, help with dinner, watch TV and bed by ten thirty. Regardless. And if I find myself lying awake and the void comes, I won’t scream into it like the old days, I’ll sing to it. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a lament. Maybe I think my children will walk out of the darkness and into my arms.   

[a-deadly-serenade]

overall this season was pretty decent. i have some thots whats new so im gonna share them below the cut if anyone’s interested :)

so!! first off i’ll say that there were a lot of things i did really enjoy from season 4!

the action was super fun as always!! i loved all the crazy enemies and callbacks! the skeleton fight and all those little goblins they kept killing throughout were a nice touch ;) sypha’s use of her powers is INSANE her ice-chainsaw?? her WALL of fire?? electric balls?? come on. and the animation was NICE. i really wanna know who did most of the fight scenes bcuz the style is so different and it just POPS but in a really good way? 

my favorite fight has to be ofc when everyone is REUNITED yes im basic. but the THEME song going off and well, im a whore for sotn references and i CAME when i saw the leap stone ref w the winged cape or when alucard turned into a hoard of batss AND THEN HIS WOLF FORM OOOOHH BABY!!! actually episode 9 is just a straight banger.

STRIGAAA. STRIGA. oh mama i was sweating during that fight. mad kudos to her va for them growlsss

carmilla vs isaac was a lot of fun and i loved the visuals but my hype was instantly ruined when i saw her kill herself 😭but thats smth i’ll complain about later.

not all the lines were bangers, some of sypha’s swearing seemed even a bit too much at times, and it was especially jarring to be having a face-to-face death-math with literal Death and hes acting like a naughty little 5 year old thats just learnt to swear. maybe cut back on the fuck-isms? just a bit? BUT when they hit they did GOOD. “the fuck what now?” yes

ISAAC. you weren’t in this season as much but man do u still shine through. i loved his introduction back in the town where he has his night creatures digging graves and rebuilding the city 😭 and then the conversation he shares w his flyman?? obsessed.

Hector chopping his finger off and giving lenore and carmilla a good ol FUCK YOU!! as he helps isaac. we love to see it

Trevor and Sypha’s “I love you!” “I know.” <3

DEATHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

oh! alucard actually having a story & purpose in the plot? :) luv it love to see it. that being said... the Plot. 

its... ok? it’s kind of split up into 3/4 parts, as the story progresses, one eventually merges with several of the others kind of? cohesively? while leaving the other to sort itself out.

now, i didnt have too many qualms with it, it was pretty straight forward. dracula is going to be resurrected and we have sypha and trevor looking in on it, while alucard helps the nearby village and hector and isaac go on about bringing on their inevitable showdown. however, the way the story was paced and some of the decisions they made... werent so great.

st. germain for example, brought the ENTIRE momentum from the last few episodes to a halt. you have sypha and trevor fighting through heaps and heaps of monsters only to find themselves back in Targoviste where they meet the mysterious Zamfir!! and Alucard!! he’s been asked to help save this village!! all jam-packed with crazy action and animation that leaves you fired up!! and then episode 5 comes to a screeching halt and we spend nearly the entire thing on st. germain’s backstory and explaining his motives for the rest of the season

like. imma be real with you chief: he didnt need to be here lol. you could have just left varney as the main vamp in charge of bringing back big daddy drac and he could reveal to his.. idk henchmen or something that he’s death. but u gotta fill them ten 20 minute slots somehow!! he just fell so flat and unfortunately, a lot of the side-characters suffer from this this season.

i enjoyed great and zamfir, i love their desgins esp, but they really could have been fleshed out more. zamfir is shown as nothing but a spoiled brat the majority of the time she’s on screen but they wait till she’s about to die to try and turn her character around? huh? greta is given a bit more screentime but this sudden confession of feelings in the last episode felt so... huh?? why couldnt she just be dedicated to her people and show that u can love someone w/out necessarily being their partnr? i thot that was her whole thing; taking care of her people. it’s like. where did this come from. they cant have known each other more than a week at most dog 😭

it sucks they dedicated to much time to scenes that didnt really need to be there where we could have gotten this proper development, like maybe have a scene zamfir and sypha connect over struggles they’ve dealt with in the past and that has her open up about how traumatizing dracula’s attack on her city was. u could have expanded upon her role in the court and WHY she worshipped the monarchy so much instead of making it a throwaway gag about her being “crazy”. but why have that when we could instead spend the first 5 minutes of said episode watching a monotonous back-and-forth b/w varney and that big burly russian vampire who’s name im sure mor than 98% of the audience cant even remember? 

just a lot of fat that needed to be trimmed so that the actual MEAT of the story could be slow cooked to perfection. people really arent kidding when they say less is more. 

another big problem i had was there... i dont even know what to call it, re-humanization? redemption? of Lenore. like lmk if im wrong but she manipulated hector, yeah? coerced sex to slip on that ring that binds him to her?? orr whatever weird shit warren’s into. but the way they interacted, ESPECIALLY in their first major scene together was sooo uncomfortable to watch lol at first i thought perhaps hector was only playing along because well. hes enslaved to do her and carmilla’s bidding. but no, he actually LIKES her. he spares her when isaac comes around, he says that he wants to keep her as his own. and in the meantime, lenore finds time to complain to a man that’s been beaten and enslaved how upset it makes her that carmilla got angry at her 😭 or says thats she tired of isaac keeping tabs on her and wants to escape this ‘cage’. to  aman thats literally been imprisoned since youve known him 😭her death is seen as peaceful, calm, they even try and tug at ur heartstrings by swelling this sad, dramatic music as the sun rises. really? LENORE?

and carmilla’s death happened WAYY too early imo. she was the villain for practically 3 seasons and this is how she goes? isaac couldnt get more than a stab at her? his night creatures couldnt take a nibble? HECTOR couldnt even be given a chance to do somethng like come on

the resolution was... strange? it was cute!! and happy!! but i dunno if they really needed to have lisa and vlad coming back, but, like i said; it was cute! definitely not the ending i was expecting. 

i’m glad that they put their focus back on what made the show so much fun and that was the FIGHTS. they definitely helped add some much needed spice to things when scenes started to drag, but im a gal that really luvs a good story and even though reviews were raving that this season helped closed the lid on all the themes theyd been exploring, i just didnt really see that. which isnt necessarily a BAD thing, i knew i wasnt gonna find some deep introspective themes in this hack n slash horror-fantasy, its just what can turn somethng like this from an ok show to a GREAT one. 

in the end, im glad they stopped at this one and im curious to see if they really DO go ahead on making spin-offs. bcuz unfortunately, i will always be down for som new castlevania content

[popculturebuffet]

Loud House Reviews: The Loudest Thanksgiving

It’s almost Thanksgiving! And a vastly diffrent one than in recent memory: Most of us are slimming down family gatherings to just whose in our house, you know because theirs a pandemic going on and it’s not worth risking your life for it. To those either guilting their families into it or doing so because MAGa or some such I only have this to say. 

Speaking of Black Friday i’ts spread over a week and it’s cyber deals mean I got a ton of graphic novels for a dollar a piece and my christmas shopping almost done. So in other words, boo Maga, yay safe and responsible captalisim.  But while the holiday may be diffrent, as well as the pseudo holiday attached that spawned a wonderful musical and many many injuries, one thing stays the same; Holiday Episodes. And despite being the less popular of the three holidays, Thanksgiving still produced tons of great holiday episodes and specials. And with everything being so busy I simply didn’t put too much thought into what to do for Turkey Day.. well okay the day proper i’m going to eat, spend time with family and watch a bunch of mystery science theater 3000, stay the course even in these troubling times, just with only the 4 other people who live in my house. But in terms of episodes I thought i had nothing.. then I started actually thinking on it and what do you know I have three things I want to do for the holiday, though one might wait till next year, and possibly a fourth. But given my workload currently, i’m not one to back away from a challenge, so welcome to a three or four course meal of reviews. First course: The Loud House thanksgiving special, the loudest thanksgiving.  I originally wasn’t going to do this one, mostly because due to my large workload and constant battle with procastination, I keep having to push back the latest episode review, and I have to do that one soon, as there’s a new episode in december and a christmas episode i’ve put off watching for far too long , as I INTENDED to watch eleven louds a leapin for every chirstmas up till now and never got to it before the season was over.  But just like elven louds.. Nick forced my hand.. and by that I mean the SPINOFF got a thanksgiving episode that’s also a sequel in some fashion to this episode. If I wanted to cover that episode this thanksgiving or the next I had to at least watch the original. And frankly, this close to the holiday there was no reason not to review it. So with that out of the way. 

Let’s Get At Er. This is The Loudest Thanksgiving... after the break

The Loudest Thanksgiving takes place during season 3, and still pre-casagrandes spinoff launch despite the christmas special taking place earlier. This is actually easy to explain: The Loud House runs on Comic Strip time... i.e. the characters don’t age unless the writers decide they do. But while the spinoff was in motion at this point, it was still a season off airing wise, and ill advised raitings stunt mini series wise, so in order to keep the Casagrandes fresh in people’s minds presumably, they did a crossover that at this point wasn’t a crossover but now technically is because the show exists but this existed before the show. 

It’s just a show, and I should really just relax. Point is this is a pre-crossover crossover, the two families meet for the first time, the man already said pitter patter, let’s get back at er.  So we open with Flip serving as our magical snowman narrator and regaling us with the tale of steven. Every compastionate can you imagine it... and i’m fucking with you, it’s of course abotu that time the louds and the casagrandes tried having thanksgiving together. 

We then cut to Lori and Bobby being all cute, as usual, and both talking over the phone as each show off their thanksgivings to each other and the enusing family shenanigans. On Lori’s side Lynn is wearing baggy pants so she dosen’t miss the game or the meal by going to the bathroom.. because that’s how pissing yourself works. Look if your going to do something that gross, stupid and broish just woman up and wear an adult diaper. The twins are guarding Lynn sr and the food, poorly, and Lisa has invented a Gravy Squriting robot. I can only see this ending one way. 

Yeah those single function robots really get useless once the exestnetial crisis kicks in. 

On the casagrandes side, Rosa is likewise guarding her kitchen, Frida is painting and Hector plans to sernade eveyrone because Hector is the best and you all should know that. Even with the recent Bobby Abuse he’s still awesome. As for the Mercado, CJ and Ronnie Anne are running the annual canned food drive because CJ is better than the best and should really be used more often.  Both wish they could be there.. and both honestly talk about possibly spending thanksgiving with each other and just one of their family. It’s not a wild proposition: Both are going to college soon, both are in a longterm relationship.. they plan to get married down the line for now. If things hold they will eventually have to figure this out. Of course rather than fate let them figure this out themselves, Hector overhears on Bobby’s end and Lincoln, whose busy A Clock Work Oranging himself so he can stay awake during dinner, overhears on Loris, leading to an emergency family meeting for both sides.  Both families are worried their prospective teenager going to another house of their longterm significant other for one year will mean they get all the holidays. Having never had a relationship last long enough to worry about this, I don’t quite get it as in my experince watching couples juggle this.. they usually just alternate years, spoilers the solution the episode goes with, or trade off christmas and thanksgiving, both fair solutions. Buuut as much as this bothered me at first the more I thought about it the more it actually made sense: People.. aren’t always rational and won’t always do the smart or correct thing, especially when it comes to their children. And with Lori leaving college and the casagrandes being togehter for thanksgiving for the first time in about 5 years, with both ronnie anne and her mom not having had a proper one in some time due to her mom needing to work thanksgiving, presumibly because of the eternal curse of gravy chugging contests, they have valid emotional reasons to go a bit nuts and do some irrational and assholish things. They just don’t want to loose their big sister and big brother, and that’s fair. It may not be at all accurate but it’s fair. 

So thus began the great Guilt Off of 2018. ON the Loud side they START with a fairly soft pitch, the twins simply offer her food early, and she takes it because honestly I would too. Then again, i’d also take free food in just about any situation, so i’m not really a good gage for this. As long as it’s not poision i’ll probably eat it if it’s free. The next two are a little.. less subtle, with the kids talking about Lori’s roll in the annual thanksgiving skit.. which I’m assuming is soley for Lynn Sr. as no one else seems to be going to their thanksgiving. Which granted theirs valid explinations for why their neighbors didn’t go, the mcbrides and mr grouse have their own families and while Mr Grouse rarely gets to see his, he now has neighborly friends after the last holiday special happy to help. But Pop Pop.. makes no sense as his girlfriend, the only plausable reason he wouldn’t be there, was said to not have much family in her debut. So he’s just.. absent from thanksgiving for no reason. Thena gain we later find out this play is movie length, so maybe he was just trying to escape that which in that case, who can blame him. Rita almost reigns things back in with the mother’s trump card: parental guilt. Almost. She then almost crushes lori’s hand but it’s funny enough.  At the Casagrandes, their opening move is largely the same only Rosa wins in terms of execution, cooking up some of bobby’s faviorites to specificially target him. Frida paints him into a painting, again the Casagrandes win his one in terms of effort. They do tie in the last bit, as Maria and Ronnie Anne try the same sort of guilt slining with the same bone crushing.  Eventually both teens get fed up with the next bit; For Lori, Lucy gives her a long overdramatic poem about an empty chair which is easily tied with one bit later for best bit of hte episode.. which granted when I can only think of two or three gags that really made me laugh...

Bobby likewise gets Hector telling the story about a realitvie not going to thanksgiving. Both get angry.. which for Lori, isn’t all that suprising, if entirely warranted. For Bobby though? It’s like pissing off a dolphin. IT’s hard to do and very much not something you want to actually pull of. Both families are forced to admit they eavesdropped, and are incredibly worried about this whole situation, with Lynn Sr selling lincoln up the river for telling them... this man’s capacity for selling out his children is as awe insprising as it is truly pathetic. 

So the two teens go back to their rooms to figure something out and come upon a reasonable solution: just have one of the families host and both come to it. That’s more than fair. But given we still have a full special to pad out, both families are still treating this like a competion: while the louds win the coin toss, both sides are determined to win thanksgiving. IT’s far from the most insane contest i’ve seen this month, x of swords was happening and i’ve seen a russian yank a goblin out of the demonic alligator skin he was using as a puppet. And we don’t know for sure Arrakoa and Krakoa didn’t have a trial over a baby turkey being adorable as one of the challenges. Other challenges included getting drunk, an eating contest, telling someone to murder a kitten and a wedding, all of this is actual stuff that happened in this recent crossover, I have made up nothing. 

So after the break and Flip realizing oh shit the audience is back, the war begins. The Louds are preparing for war, with Lola putting out a picture of herself instead of bobby and laurie because of course.. still not a half bad gag. The Casagrandes arrive and in in a passive agressive move that was already done a year before this special by Brooklyn Nine Nine and better, brought their own food.. though the roast pig is a nice and unique touch. Points for that.  And this.. is where the special gets tedious. Yeah while the IDEA of this episode was really good and I was excited to cover it in practice it’s just similar gags on both sides done for both halves: The first being “let’s guilt them into staying” and the second being “Let’s one up each other” with only two bits really working: Frieda having a painting and the louds annual skit.  And the skit is because it raises a LOT of questions: Why is it 90 minutes, who played the adorable turkey in the years between babies? Was it just whoever was youngest? Who wrote this? Who is this for besides Lynn Sr and Pop Pop? Who all has sat through this thing at some point? Is that why the mcbrides don’t come over for thanksgiving? It’s just.. fantastic is what i’m saying.  

But otherwise this part is just the family trying to one up each other with food, or toasts, or song, before devolving into a big fight. What makes it not work is.. there isn’t a lot of personality there. You have these two big, plentiful, intresting casts, even at this stage with the Casagrandes far less established and fleshed out. And instead of finding interesting ways for them to play off one another meeting for the first time, and to use that to also flesh the characters out more for the inevitable spinoff, it’s just 

For most of the second half. Thankfully it DOES manage to bring things around as after things degenerate into a food fight, the families decide to just ASK the two of them where they want to go.. and find them entirely missing.  It then turns out, in a nice twist, this is where Flip came in. Since his place is the only place open 24/7 and 365, barring fishing season, Bobby and Lori fled here to flee their insane families.. who then follow them there because Carlos and Lisa have them chipped. I was suprised at first Carlos had a tracker on bobby but honestly, i’ts just common sense. The man is like a golden retriver in a man’s body. Here’s an artists interpretation

Both families breifly bicker before Lori and Bobby announce their starting their own family thankgiving with blackjack, and hookers. They really shouldn’t of let Flip in on the brainstorming session. Both families don’t want that, and apologize, admitting they just didn’t want to loose them and both genuinely offering to let the other have them next year. Flip, who despite having a “pay for my colonoscopy jar” with a picture of his ass on it, is somehow the voice of reason and just suggests trading thanksgivings every year, everyone accepts, and we do get a genuinely heartwarming ending of both sides gathering everything for a gas station thanksgiving. Honestly reminds me of king of the hill’s airport episode, but in a very good way and still unique enough circumstances to work.Also Flip, of all people, donates the cans needed to finish the can drive.. granted i’m not sure if they WANT any of that meat, but hey, he meant well and it made me really like the character.  We get a heartwearming duet between hector and luna and sono the whole family and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This was disapointing. I’ve listed most of my complaints already, but overall it wasted a good premise of two families coming together, and even the feud parts could’ve been funnier. As it is it’s just.. ehhhhhhhhhh. It has some good parts, and bobby is an angel here on earth as always. But the whole just feels padded. Like this was SUPPOSED to just be 11 minutes, got bumped up, and thus here we are. It’s not the worst Loud House has done, i’ve seen and heard of muccch worse, but for a holiday special it just feels stale and i’ve seen way better thanksgiving specials. And i’ll be getting to that.  If there’s an episode of a cartoon you’d like me to cover, just pop in my ask box or dms and you can comission a review for 5 bucks a piece. Discounts on bulk, 15 for movies. Until then , happy thanksgiving.

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: miss do it right

title: miss do it right gift for: @clemdhoffryn for @crazyexvalentine word count: 4,885 summary: Valencia is ready to propose to Beth. The question, however, of when and where requires expert advice. Valencia & Heather, Beth/Valencia. notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!

~

“I need your help,” Valencia announces, breezing into Heather and Hector’s foyer, straight into the living room and perching on the arm of the couch adjacent to Heather’s current seat. “Also you really need to get a gardener—that trellis is leaning over.”

“Hector’s getting around to it,” says Heather, looking up from her magazine. “Hi, welcome back to West Coast, Best Coast or whatever. Didn’t I tell you to start texting if you were gonna come over?”

“I told you I was planning a wedding this weekend,” Valencia says archly, as if the mere statement of fact automatically absolves her of visitor’s etiquette. “Remember? In the group chat?”

“Oh, I remember. I just kind of generally assumed it was in New York. Since you do, you know, live there.”

Valencia pouts. “Come on, aren’t we hashtag gurlgroup4evah? Physical walls are meaningless. And I totally gave you a key to my place. You could do the same exact same thing to me and I wouldn’t mind.”

“That argument worked when you were in East Cameron, not East Coast. When am I ever gonna go to New York?”

“For me, obviously,” says Valencia. “Or for a Home Base conference, I guess.”

“They’re a West Coast chain.”

“So? Weren’t you planning on revolutionizing their corporate headquarters, or something?”

“I was, but that’s like, halfway through my five-year plan that I’m going to start next year.”

“Oh. Are you really not happy to see me?” asks Valencia, and she sounds just a tiny bit deflated, like she’s actually worried that that’s the case. Heather drops her magazine on the side table (occasionally, she marvels at how adulthood came upon her so fast—these have mermaid feet, irony unintended, that make her ridiculously happy).

“I’m happy to see you, Vee, can’t you tell?”

Valencia narrows her eyes. “Usually you’re happier.”

“You literally just walked in when I wasn’t expecting you for three weeks. Let me have a reaction time. And given your stance on Hector is lukewarm at best I’m still surprised to see you here.”

“I follow Hector on Instagram, and I happen to know that he has a surfing competition in Monterey this weekend,” says Valencia knowingly. “And I definitely know that you are always down for adventures, especially if there is just the right amount of drama.” Valencia wiggles her shoulders for emphasis.

Heather leans forward, studying her friend. There’s something surprisingly spiky and Rebecca-like about her energy –not out of whack, not in a bad way, but it’s there.

“Everything all right, Vee?” Heather asks. “You’re weirdly hyped up. Are you on a Guatemalan coffee kick again?”

“Please, you know I’m on a kombucha cleanse right now.”

“Kombucha can do all this?” Heather gestures up and down Valencia, like her “this” is the new “it” and she’s Clara Bow. 

(Heather took a film class for like, three weeks in freshman year before she dropped it for being insanely pretentious.)

Annoyed, Valencia swats Heather’s hand away—all right, she’s not too far gone.

Valencia gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “No, it’s not the kombucha. It’s something way more important.”

There is a very meaningful pause; Heather waits, unsure whether it is done out of Valencia’s natural sense of making an entrance or for Heather’s benefit is a sincere question.

“I’m going to ask Beth to marry me.”

“Oh,” Heather blinks. “Wow.”

It’s not an unexpected announcement and given with Valencia’s usual careless confidence. But there is trepidation there, if one knows how to look for it.

“Does it seem weird? Tell me if it’s weird.”

“Uh, not weird, no,” says Heather carefully. “But given what happened a few months ago, I have to ask…”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about it,” says Valencia irritably, waving a hand. “We’re on the same page. But I want it to be right, and I need help to make that happen.”

“Okay. And you’re asking me because…”

“Because Rebecca has a lot going on, and while I love the girl, I need someone who won’t let me get carried away with something way out of my budget.”

“That makes sense,” Heather agrees. “What about Paula?”

“She has that big case she’s presenting on Monday, and she doesn’t know Beth as well as you do.”

“True. That afternoon at the Korean spa means we’re bonded for life now, united by a great and terrible event.”

“You loved it. Didn’t you feel all nice and fresh?”

“Only because I had to grow a whole new layer of skin. I’m amazed Beth liked it; she was completely pink.”

“I mean, that happens if she steps out in the sun for five minutes without a hat,” says Valencia fondly. “But I’m not asking you to climb into a sauna, I’m asking you to help me propose to my girlfriend. Will you do it?”

“I mean, obviously. I’m a total romantic, so of course I’ll help.”

Valencia’s forehead wrinkles in a very pointed way. “You got married because of health insurance. I just need someone to tell me if I’m getting out of bounds with like, budget and expectations.”

“Wanting your partner to be healthy for the long run is very romantic.”

“Not enough to try to skip the actual wedding part,” grumbles Valencia.

“Who is asking who for help getting married, again?”

“Fair,” concedes Valencia grudgingly, though her smile undercuts some of her pretense. She kicks herself up and off the couch and gestures imperiously at Heather. “Now come on, we need to get going if we don’t want to be late.”

“Uh, we? Where?”

I have a vineyard in Temecula to make sure it is an ideal venue for my client, remember? We can multitask on the drive up.”

“Uh, now?”

“Why not?” With a flourish, Valencia pulls out a notebook that is already crammed full of post-its and other notes. “You can look at this on the way up. Plus, I can guarantee that we can ask to sample some of their viticultural offerings.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Heather stands and stretches. “I did have a busy afternoon planned for contemplating my existence, but I’ll move for free wine.”

~

Valencia’s planner, much like her initial dream wedding plans, is elaborately and meticulously tabbed. Leafing through the pages, Heather briefly recognizes one of the strange commonalities between Valencia and Rebecca that reminds her that, as strange as the beginning of that friendship was, there’s a reason that their bond is as strong as it is. Valencia drives. It gives her a weird burst of fondness for them.

“You really thought these out,” says Heather, reading through a meticulous list of what it would take to plan a flash mob in Times Square with a reasonable budget. 

“Right? I mean, I have ideas for days. It’s what I do—dolling up other people’s bad ideas and persuading them that mine are better. I can do this forever.”

“Great. So, why do you need me?”

Valencia’s fingers drum against the wheel of her rental car, clearly annoyed. “Because I’ve been striking out. Like, these are objectively great proposal ideas, right? But I can’t decide which one is actually, like, the best one.”

“I can see that,” says Heather, eyebrows shooting up when she turns a page and sees an elaborate plan for a hot air balloon proposal scribbled out with angry red marker. “What are you looking for, then?”

“Something that speaks to both of us. Like, as awesome as my spacing is for the choreo, I know that Beth wouldn’t want a flash mob in Times Square.”

“Yeah, that seems like a you thing. A pretty specific you thing.” Heather shoots her an inquiring look. “Did you?”

Valencia shifts uncomfortably. “There was a time where I might have mentioned it to Josh.”

“Wow.”

“Hey, Josh is terrible, but if he choreographed a dance proposal, it would have been amazing.”

“Can’t argue with that.” One of the pages just seems to be a froth of white lace paper surrounding a list of names at its center. Heather squints at the neat penmanship, idly wondering if she needs glasses or if Valencia’s handwriting is just really that small. “Is this a guest list?”

“No. I also really always wanted to do it at someone else’s wedding. Preferably Denise Martinez’s—”

“Valencia…”

“But that’s also not Beth’s style,” finishes Valencia slightly irritated. “Like I said, the proposal has to match both of us. I did learn from my mistakes, you know.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t,” says Heather mildly.

“And that list is out of date anyways. Denise got married last month and I hear that her and her new husband are already fighting.”

“Don’t sound so gleeful.”

“Sorry,” says Valencia almost contritely, merging off the highway. “We have a long history.”

“So I heard. We definitely need to unpack that some time.”

~

“Oh, this is perfect,” Valencia breathes, overlooking the gently rolling hills and the rows of twining grapevines.

“It’s pretty great,” Heather agrees, coming up besides her, hands tucked in her pockets. “It’s practically worth the sticker price.”

“Nothing’s worth the sticker price. I’ll get a better deal.”

“That winery owner guy seemed pretty stodgy.”

“I have my ways,” says Valencia enigmatically, which both impresses and concerns Heather in equal measures. 

“I don’t doubt it.” There’s a pause as they survey the scenery together. 

“Why wouldn’t you propose to Beth here?” 

“Hm?” Valencia turns to look at Heather, the arch of her eyebrows more inquiring than sharp.

“You and Beth. I mean, this place makes a wicked rosé—”

“Since when do you use wicked? That’s an East Coast word.”

“’Cause it’s a great word? And I’m from Michigan, which is kind of East Coast.”

Valencia pulls a face.

Heather rolls her eyes in response. “Whatever. But seriously, this seems ideal. It has a view, it’s romantic—it’s everything you wanted. And you and Beth have family here, so you can have a big party after she says yes.”

“It has a lot,” agrees Valencia wistfully. Then she sighs. “But it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Josh and I used to come here. Too many memories.”

“Oh.”

“Right? Josh just ruins everything.”

“Okay, it’s been three years, I think you can lay off of Josh.”

“Nah. I’ve dedicated too much time into it. I’m going to be doing this until after we’re both married. Speaking of Josh, you’ve met Rosa, right?”

“Yeah. I like her. I didn’t know that you met her—”

“Oh, yeah. Nice girl,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely surprised. Given Josh’s previous type, Heather can’t entirely blame her. Valencia continues, “But for whatever reason, they work well together. We had a long talk - I warned her about all of his flaws, and she said that she knows and she was positive she could handle it. Then she complimented my earrings.”

Heather has to smile at that. She is the least well-acquainted with Josh of their friends (though she’s probably seen him in far more intimate situations than most people ever have to see their friends), so her personal frustrations with him tended to be from far briefer interactions, over much more quickly. She’s glad to see that Josh seems settled in a way that he hasn’t been since she’s known him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” admits Valencia, softening a little. “I am actually happy for him. But I have to keep up appearances - we were together way too long.”

“That’s fair.”

~

Once the vineyard has been approved (and Valencia has worn down the owner to her terms), they head back to Heather’s place, open a couple extra bottles of rosé and buckle down.

“Too much hassle,” says Valencia, X-ing out what seems to be a plan for a private yacht.

“Too showy,” agrees Heather, marking off a flashing billboard. She turns the page and squints at a picture of a dark room lit by hundreds of tiny flames.

“Isn’t Beth allergic to those candles?” she asks.

“They would be soy,” Valencia protests, but rather hastily reaches across the page to mark it out. “Still, you have a point.”

“That’s also a fire hazard, right there.”

“I’m not Rebecca,” says Valencia irritably.

 “That’s still a lot of open flames. I’m just saying. Why not just go Big Fish and propose with a bunch of flowers?”

“I can’t. Beth’s allergic to flowers.”

Heather blinks.

“Seriously?”

Valencia shrugs. “Look, there’s a reason she hired me to do certain events that she couldn’t. She’s all about the hands-on activities. Pollen and natural phenomena - not so much.”

“Got it. So Big Fish is totally out?”

“Totally.”

~

Despite what Heather expected and the width and breadth of the notebook, they are burning through the ideas in the planner at an alarming rate. Valencia is clearly panicking too, if the two glasses of rosé are any indication.

“You know what would be great? The Met! Yeah, you could hide behind one of the exhibits to record, we’re surrounded by all this history, I’m sure they have something by Sappho in there, Beth loves her stuff—”

“Okay, just so we’re setting reasonable expectations or whatever, I can tell you right now that I am not going to New York just to help you propose,” Heather warns. “I have like, a household budget, and there’s only so much that I can dip into Hector’s accident fund and still have enough.”

Valencia lets out a little huff that indicates that while she respects Heather’s commitment to her budget, she continues to be less-than-impressed. It reminds Heather to text Hector and tell him that he might need to spend the night out with the guys—just because him and Valencia are no longer on murder terms doesn’t mean she can feel like she can guarantee his personal safety.

“Okay, fine. Skip to page sixty-eight.” At Heather’s disbelieving look, Valencia shrugs defensively. “What? A girl can dream in destinations.”

Heather does as she’s asked without further commentary. It’s not that Heather expected that helping Valencia plan a proposal would be simple. But Valencia knows her tastes—Heather was reasonably certain that her role would be as a yes woman and occasional financial wisdom rather than active decision making.

They aren’t using the couch or even the coffee table anymore—they’ve pulled off all of the cushions and have created a sort of nest on the floor.

“I can propose at a concert!” says Valencia, entirely too brightly.

Heather raises her head off one of the cushions. “You guys like going to concerts?”

“Not really? But everyone proposes at John Legend’s concerts, so it would work.”

“Beth likes John Legend?”

“Kind of? She doesn’t mind him but she loves Chrissy Teigen. And maybe we’d get some good karma from their marriage.”

“Not bad. You might also get drinks spilled on you,” Heather reminds her. “It could be sticky. Plus, other people might propose at same concert and steal your thunder.”

“Ugh, true. Plus, the scheduling doesn’t work out—he won’t be on tour for a good few months.”

Perhaps it is the tiredness, or remembering that she still needs to write up the shift schedules for next month, that prompts her to suggest, “Why not Home Base? I mean, you guys did agree to meet there. So, like, it’s sentimental.”

Valencia somehow looks affronted, disgusted and poorly hiding it, and despairing all at once. Heather would almost be impressed.

“I’ve been going to Home Base longer than you’ve been working there, Heather. I really don’t want to propose marriage at the bar where I used to pick up Elena from softball practice. It doesn’t feel right.”

Heather props herself up on her elbows so that she can look at Valencia properly. “Okay. What doesn’t feel right? It’s not going to be perfect.”

“I’m not going for perfect,” says Valencia irritably. “I gave Rebecca perfect, and look where that landed her. A perfect proposal would mean an island vacation, and dessert for Beth, and possibly sky writing. But it would also mean debt and she would so not be happy about that.”

 “Great. Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”

 Valencia’s hands twist against each other in her lap. Then they untangle and she dives into her purse and pulls out a small black box, which she sets on the table between them. Gone is her haughty event planner bravado, now Valencia just looks lost, more than Heather has ever seen her. 

“This proposal has to feel right because I messed up the first time.”

“The first time?”

“The ultimatum,” says Valencia glumly. “I don’t want it to be too much—it needs to be something that Beth would love to accept. Something that proves that we know each other and can be a part of each other’s lives.”

“Can I see it?” At Valencia’s nod of permission, Heather reaches over and opens the box to look at the ring.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Moshe has a good collection. I’ve known this is the one for her for ages now. And…I want that feeling about how I propose. Does that make any sense?”

It does. Heather nods, waiting for Valencia to continue.

“It’s just…I made such a big deal about wanting to get married, and I want this proposal to show her that I know her, and it’s not all about me me me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s why I asked you. You might not be the biggest romantic of all of us, but you follow your gut about what feels right. And I want that confidence when I ask her.”

It’s both touching and terrifying to have that much faith in a person. Awkwardly, Heather pats Valencia’s shoulder. Valencia leans into the touch anyways, seeking whatever awkward comfort that Heather tries to give.

“You know, she’s going to love you whatever you do,” says Heather slowly. “And obviously, you know her well enough to know that these insanely awesome proposals are still awesome, just not right. We’ll find something better. And, like, I’m not gonna give up. You’re not going to leave California without a game plan.

Valencia gives her a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Heather,” she says. She looks ready to say more, but then there’s the sound of a very small gong being struck.

Valencia frowns, pulling her phone out of her pocket, scans the screen, and sighs. “I have to go. The client with the vineyard wants to meet now, of all times. I’m gonna go to her place, but when I get back, maybe we can just have a girls’ night in? No more proposal talk?”

“Sure, whatever you want. I can just duck out and like, get some more rosé. Just wines. Ablutions to drown our frustrations.”

Valencia smiles wanly and sees herself out. Heather waits until she’s sure that Valencia’s car has pulled away before hitting her speed dial. Heather is the coolest of her friends, even now that they are all responsible adults, and sometimes that means admitting that you are out of your depth.

~

Still, Heather isn’t lying when she says she needs to go pick up wines. She does.

At Il Cabino. Where Rebecca is waiting at a table for two, astonishingly early.

“You need to help me,” says Heather, not bothering with niceties. As frustrating as Rebecca’s flakiness can be, it is refreshing that she never gets insulted by Heather’s brusqueness.

“Oh, absolutely,” says Rebecca, eyes wide. “I know I haven’t been very good at that in the past, but like, right now I’m all ears.”

“Valencia is going nuts about proposing to Beth—”

Rebecca nods sympathetically. “Oh yeah, I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. She’s been texting me.”

Heather looks closely at Rebecca and only sees frank interest in the other woman’s gaze, no impression of jealousy or hurt. “Okay…so you know and you don’t feel left out?”

“She made it very clear that I’m not supposed to help, and given my past record for helping Valencia with anything, I figured the least I could do is let her do her thing,” says Rebecca with remarkable understatement. “Anyways, I’m actually crazy busy. My singing lessons are turning my brains to mush.”

“Hm, and I was hoping to hear that you were actually working your pretzel stand so we could swap tips as fellow businesswomen.”

“Nah, I just let AJ take care of it. His rent is less than a hundred bucks, he can manage.”

“Right. Enough about your life, back to my problems.”

“Shutting up now.” Rebecca mimes zipping her lips.

“Thank you. But Valencia is driving me insane with rejecting every single proposal idea I have. And, like, my ideas are good. I’m good at organizing events.”

“Right. You guys are crazy good at that.”

“I suggested Home Base, kind of as a joke, and she nearly bit my head off.”

“I mean, Home Base is not super romantic. I had enough sex in the back room there enough to know.”

“What a coincidence, so did I,” says Heather dryly. “Which means I probably should pay for an extremely thorough cleaning, but that’s besides the point. If Valencia isn’t feeling it, it’s not going work. So I figured, I’ve been striking out, I might as well ask our local romance expert for tips.”

“Aww,” coos Rebecca, placing her hand on her heart. Then her expression shifts from soppy to self-deprecatingly wry. “You guys must really be in a tight spot.”

“Yep. So…what do you have for me?”

Rebecca looks thoughtful, not unfocused like when she goes in her head or is too absorbed in her problems.

“I mean, Beth isn’t a total romantic, but she likes to make things meaningful,” says Rebecca after a pause. “She wouldn’t be in these kinds of events if she didn’t. Maybe for Valencia, she’s asking Beth to spend the rest of their lives together. Ask her about if there’s any specific moment when she knew that she wanted Beth to be in her life forever. Like, I know you are big on how there isn’t one moment of magical epiphany and I totally agree, for the record—but she made the decision that it was gonna be Beth at some point. Maybe asking when and where would give her a few new ideas.”

It's an almost stupefying simple idea. Heather nods slowly. “Right. Like, what do they do together that makes Valencia want to spend every day doing the same thing?”

“Exactly. Like, it’s just about finding resonance, right? Something that reaffirms how they feel, but not in an artificial or contrived way. Just love.”

“Right,” says Heather, starting to smile. “Thanks, Rebecca. That helps a lot.”

Rebecca beams. “Any time. And uh, not to be mercenary or anything, but since I gave good advice, does that mean you can pick up the tab? Music lessons have really tightened up my budget and you did offer to take me out to happy hour, so.”

~

“You’ve been gone a while.” 

There’s a faintly accusatory tone to Valencia’s words when Heather gets back. She’s already sprawled over the couch, reading the magazine that Heather dropped earlier that morning.

“And yet, you still let yourself into my house. How was the meeting?”

“Okay. Honestly, it’s a good thing I’m in a personal crisis right now or I would have never agreed to do their wedding. Ugh, what annoying people. But, I promised, no more wedding talk. Tell me what’s been going on at Home Base. Don’t spare any details—I know you love that drama.”

“I do love drama. But before we get into that, I think I have one more suggestion that might help you with the whole proposal situation. Just one.”

“Okay?”

“I’m not a traditionally romantic person. You know this.”

“I do.”

“And I married Hector when I did because he really needed the health insurance. But I knew that I wanted to spend my life with him before that. He makes me laugh. He makes things light in my life. Even when he does something stupid like almost lose his toe.”

“That’s…surprisingly sweet, Heather.”

“Don’t say it’s wasted on Hector,” Heather warns.

“I’m not, but trust me, it’s hard.”

“Good. But that was a very roundabout, Rebecca-like way of asking: maybe think about when you decided you wanted to marry Beth?”

Valencia exhales noisily, slumping back against the sofa arm. “I’m almost never not thinking about it. When we’re at work together, when we’re talking, whenever I see her when I wake up in the morning with all of the light in her hair—” Valencia abruptly stops speaking, eyes wide.

Heather takes the opening.

“So there is a moment?”

“Yes.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes!”

“So you’re basically saying that she’s your sunshine?”

Valencia is too excited to be annoyed by Heather’s teasing. “Yes, exactly. She’s my sunshine! Which believe me, was sometimes the only thing that got me through this winter. It was cold.”

“I’ll bet,” agrees Heather. “New York isn’t exactly balmy.”

“Yeah, yeah. No, this is perfect.”

“So you know what you’re going to do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you going to tell me? Where will this event take place?”

“Our apartment. That’s our home now. It’s a shoebox and extremely uncomfortable, but it’s also ours. And mine. And that’s the first time I ever had something like that.”

Valencia actually sounds giddy.

“What do you think?” she appeals to Heather.

“That sounds just like both of you.”

“I think so.” Valencia looks conflicted. “But I want to share it with you guys too. Like, I want a little fun, otherwise I’ll just start crying and in the sloppy way, not the movie-style pretty way.”

“Again, I can’t go to New York. Paula’s too busy and Rebecca is equally broke.”

Valencia’s eyes sparkle. “Okay, but what is the best way to visit New York without visiting New York?”

Heather has an inkling of where this is going.

“You’re going to livestream your proposal?”

“Of course not. I’m going to livestream after she says yes.”

“Oooh boy.”

Valencia flutters a hand. “I think she’ll be fine as long as the actual moment itself is private. She’s not like me—she doesn’t want to get a proposal in front of people. So…you think it’s good?”

“It’s perfect. Out of curiosity, why did you want to be proposed to in front of people?”

“I mean, it used to be a social-capital type of thing, but honestly, I don’t want all of West Covina there. I would want you guys, and my family to share the moment. Cause you love us, you love Beth…and it’s still nice to be the center of attention once in a while. But that’s me, not Beth. Now, enough proposal talk. Let’s crack these wine babies open.”

Heather nods, a little distracted, a new idea forming in her head.

~

“The drone was a nice touch,” Paula observes as the three of them crowd around Heather’s laptop in her kitchen a few weeks later.

“Not mine. That was all Valencia.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Valencia’s engaged!” Rebecca’s squeal is exactly what Valencia seems to want, she just beams all the brighter. From within the camera, Beth seems amusedly resigned, leaning her head on Valencia’s shoulder, admiring the ring.

“Well, since you have your girls on the line…” says Beth, and Heather smirks, the only woman of the lot of them who knows what’s coming, as Beth disappears out of their sight line, and emerges with a small velvet black box of her own.

“Oh my god!” Valencia’s squawk has all three of them jerking away from the laptop, but the general cacophony from Paula and Rebecca more than make up for it.

“A double proposal!” Rebecca’s grin is so wide that Heather’s own face aches in sympathy.

“Valencia, Valencia stop shaking me, I have a whole speech prepared, and I know it’s not a flash mob in Times Square—”

“I don’t care!” Valencia shrieks. “How did you—when—”

Beth laughs, giddy with adrenaline.

“Thank Heather,” she says, her voice clear even over the faint buzzing of the drone. “I called her for advice, and she didn’t give me any details, but she did say that if I wanted to propose, I might want to consider keeping the ring in the apartment. Preferably under the bed.”

“Heather!!” Valencia glares at her across the country, mascara running, but the smile on her face is impossible to repress.

“Told you I’m romantic,” says Heather mildly, but still smiling, pleased.

“I know,” says Valencia. “Thank you.”

She turns back to Beth. “But I thought you wanted a private proposal. Everyone’s watching us right now—”

“I did, and I’m glad I got one. But you’re not me. Valencia, you are a sun, and you draw all of us in your orbit—”

There is more, but Heather can barely hear any of it, between the screamlets coming out of the laptop and the shrieks echoing around Rebecca’s kitchen. Rebecca is punching Heather’s arm and saying something about she knew Heather was secretly a romantic at heart, she just knew it, and Paula is looking misty again, but Heather only has eyes for the two women on the other side of the screen, wearing rings and embracing so tightly it’s like the drone isn’t there at all.

What? She said she’s a romantic.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Halloween Special Villains

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Ah, Halloween, that magical, spooky time of year where ghosts and goblins come out to play and children dress up in the hopes of getting some delicious Halloween candy. But what about all of us who are trapped at home on the night of this pagan costume and candy festival? What do we have to keep us entertained?

Why, Halloween specials of course!

If there’s one thing Halloween delivers on almost as well as Christmas does, it’s spooky Halloween-themed episodes of cartoons, where the show is allowed to get darker and more disturbing than it usually does in some cases. And what is any special without a special one-shot villain? Gotta have someone stirring up some Halloween trouble on this spooky night. And since these characters are usually one and done with little in the way to go super in-depth about, I’d figure we’d look at five of them at once! They are:

Jack O’Lantern from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy

Pumpkinator from The Fairly OddParents

Bun-Bun from Underfist

Fright Night from Danny Phantom

Ron Tompkins from Toy Story of Terror!

I’m sure some of you feel there are some glaring omissions. Where’s the Flying Dutchman? Where’s Stickybeard? Well, I decided that this time around I’d go with characters whose major appearances and debuts are Halloween episodes; both those guys had major roles in non-Halloween episodes as well, so I’ll be saving them for full reviews at a later date. Also of note: I am aware the story of Toy Story of Terror! does not take place on Halloween, but it is aired as a Halloween special, so I’m counting it.

Actor: So if there’s one thing these guys aren’t lacking in, it’s the actor department, and this isn’t a huge shock since when you’ve got a holiday special you want to splurge a bit, you know?

Jack has one of my favorite actors ever, the always-awesome Wayne Knight. Knight just has that sort of voice that’s perfect for smug jerk characters like Mr. Blik or Dennis Nedry, so really it’s pretty fitting for a pranking trickster like Jack, though I will say that it’s hard to match Knight’s voice to the human version of Jack when you see him in a flashback.

Ron Tompkins isn’t too far behind in the impressive VA department, being voiced by none other than Stephen Tobolowsky, who you may remember as the overbearing Ned Ryerson from GroundHog Day (and how can you forget him? You see him repeating the same scene about thirty times). He does a great job at making Tompkins cartoonishly evil and mostly enjoyable, a tall order for a character who steals toys from children to sell online.

And if you thought the list of awesome actors was done, boy were you wrong! Star Trek’s very own Michael Dorn voices the Fright Knight, and Dorn’s voice is absolutely perfect for a cool, evil, undead knight.

Bun-Bun is voiced by Dave Wittenberg who is an insanely prolific VA, playing characters such as Henry Wong from Digimon Tamers (AKA the beast season of Digimon) to none other than Kakashi from Naruto. I think it goes without saying a VA this versatile manages to make the role work.

And finally, we have the Pumpkinator, who is played by Dee Bradley Baker, and if I sat here listing all the notable roles this man has played we’d be here all night. But here’s a small sample: Appa, Momo, Squilliam Fancyson and Bubble Bass, Klaus the goldfish, Cow and Chicken’s dad, Cinderblock and Plasmus, the Alien and Predator in Mortal Kombat, Lion and Frybo, Numbah 4 and the Toilenator, Remy Buxaplenty, most of the animals in The Legend of Korra… you get the picture. This guy’s a legend. He’ll do any sort of role, big or small, so even if he’s not playing the most complex character here, he’s at least giving it a unique spin with his voice because man, this guy has RANGE.

Motivation/Goals: Jack has a rather simple motivation: revenge. You see, ages ago he managed to steal Grim’s scythe when he was about to be reaped, and bartered for the scythe’s return, asking to be made immortal. Grim reluctantly gave him this, but, as Grim is not someone who likes being tricked, also cut his head off. As anything cut off with Grim’s scythe is permanently cut off, Jack had to replace his head with a pumpkin (of course). This lead to him being shunned as a freak, which just made jis desire for vengeance even stronger; I mean, wouldn’t you want revenge if you could only go to the ding-dong grocery store to get pudding once a year?

If you want to get even simpler, the Pumpkinator is your guy! He exists simply to blow up planets. Tat’s it. He’s very much just an obstacle Timmy needs to overcome so that he can undo his wish for every Halloween costume to be “real and scary” before the consequences end up destroying the world.

Bun-Bun is rather simple as well: he just seems to be a jerk. But they don’t just make him a simple jerk, no, this is a Billly & Mandy spinoff so things have to be taken to their ridiculous extreme. Bun-Bun turns out to be behind numerous extremely petty actions that affected the lives of the main heroes, having haunted Hoss as a child and made him afraid of monsters, made Billy afraid of spiders which estranged him from his son Jeff, and, uh, sawed off Fred Fredburger’s tusks. The fiend! As you might guess, there’s no real rhyme or reason to this, it’s just goofy absurdist over-the-top sort of thing you’d expect from Maxwell Atoms.

Ron has a relatively simple motivation, but frankly it might be the most evil out of all of these: the man steals toys from the children who stay at his motel to sell them for monetary gain. Yes, this is more evil than attempting to blow up the planet, you heard me. I have no idea how sick and twisted you have to be to think that stealing toys from children is acceptable. Funnily enough, this is the same sort of motivation Al (who was played by Wayne Knight, funnily enough) from Toy Story 2 had, though Ron takes it above and beyond.

And finally that brings us to Fright Knight, Much like most of the ghosts on the show, Fright Knight seems to just want to cause a ruckus after he’s released, attempting to take over Amity Park when Danny foolishly releases him. Later in the show he is freed to serve Pariah Dark, and after Dark is beaten he joins up with Vlad. In his final appearance of any consequence he is seen serving the Ultimate Enemy in the bad future. Basically the guy is just a really cool overhyped henchman.

Personality: So let’s get the easy one out of the way first: The Pumpkinator doesn’t exactly have a personality, because it is a big generic doomsday villain meant to act as an obstacle for Timmy to overcome. However, when it returned later in the episode where Timmy goes to Unwish Island, it did have one notable personality trait: an undying hatred for Timmy Turner, It’s a pretty relatable trait the more into the series you watch.

Bun-Bun is also rather evil and simple. He’s just a petty jerk, as can be seen by his crimes listed up under motivation. There’s not much else to him, same with Fright Knight who, again, is mostly just an overhyped henchman who acts as the hardcore badass serving whatever big bad of the week is out to get Danny (or he would have, but more on that later).

Out of all of these, Ron and Jack have the most personality. Jack is an unrepentant prankster who, at least when alive, was heavily implied to just not get he was taking it too far with his pranks (“too far” in this case being tricking people off of cliffs, at the least), and simply morphed into a bitter, jaded, vengeance-seeking supernatural entity after hundreds of years of rejection by society and isolation. Jack’s honestly pretty tragic in that regard, though it obviously doesn’t excuse his actions.

Ron is just a straight-up jerk, putting up a facade of being a charming, friendly motel owner while stealing toys from under his guest’s noses. As the truth comes out about him, he becomes more cartoonish and hammy, which really doesn’t help his case at all, and in his final scene he actually does something so cartoonish he almost feels like he doesn’t belong in the Toy Story universe.

Final Fate: Funnily enough, Pumpkinator actually gets the happiest ending out of anyone here: after being unwished by Timmy, he goes to Unwish Island and, after Timmy eventually journeys there, gets to have fun tormenting Timmy clones for the rest of time.

Ron probably has the second happiest ending, for a given definition of “happy.” Bonnie’s mother calls the cops on him for his theft, and when they show up, he somehow manages to trick them, run away, steal their car, crash it into a telephone pole when backing up, and then run off before they even move a muscle. It’s ridiculously cartoonish, and there’s no way this guy is gonna be getting off easy after that little display.

Onto Bun-Bun. Bun-Bun made one simple mistake: he put any trust at all int Skarr. For those not in the know, Skarr was the “Starscream” to Hector Con Carne, always hoping to overthrow him and take over his world domination schemes for himself before he ended up retiring from that life and becoming a reoccurring character on Billy & Mandy. So, when he joins up with the villain by betraying Underfist, what do you think he does? He betrays the villain, pushing Bun-Bun into hot cocoa and melting him, using his power of treachery and backstabbing to help his team save the world. It’s pretty amusing in that classic Billy & Mandy way.

Good ol’ Jack ends up getting sent to the underworld this time since Grim wasn’t putting up with his crap anymore, and it seems Jack still hasn’t learned his lesson about pranking. When last we see him, he’s now tormenting demons, who all start moving in on him while he laughs at his dumb pranks. The screen cuts to black and we hear a squishing noise. It’s safe to say he won’t have to worry about that pumpkin head causing him problems anymore.

Fright Night is easily the most tricky one to talk about because his entire intended purpose in the show got aborted. After he was brought back to serve Pariah, he ended up under Vlad’s control by episode’s end, but for some reason, nothing ever came of this and it was never mentioned again – well, except in the “Ultimate Enemy” special, in which the Fright Knight cameos at the beginning, acting as something of the hype man for Dan Phantom, softening up Amity Park for Dan’s attack. After that, though, he’s basically out of the series, save for a couple of brief cameos here and there.

Best Scene: Jack has the flashback to his origins, because not only is it perfectly dark for a show’s Halloween episode, you have to give props to anyone who managed to outwit Grim, even if he did end up paying a steep price for it.

Ron has his aforementioned escape from the police. I do think it’s a bit too cartoonish and silly for Toy Story, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t pretty hilarious either way.

The Fright Knight has the aforementioned scene where he mentions he’s serving The evil future Danny. Considering that’s his last real role in the series, at least he got to go out on a high note, though it still sucks nothing ever came of the plotlines set up for him.

Bun-Bun’s best scene is when he revealed that he was the architect of most of the protagonist’s woes. Again, it’s just classic over-the-top Billy & Mandy silliness, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

The Pumpkinator… just doesn’t have one. Sorry.

Best Quote: While most of these guys aren’t exactly a goldmine of quotes, Jack has one of my favorite quotes from anything, ever, and I even already referenced it above: “Three hundred and sixty-four days a year, I can't even go the the ding-dong grocery store to buy pudding! And do you know why?" The why, obviously, is the fact he has a pumpkin for a head.

Final Thoughts & Score: Frankly, this batch of Halloween hooligans is a very mixed bag. We didn’t fare quite as bad as Charlie Brown did on Halloween, but we only got one King Size candy bar out of this lot.

I guess let’s just start with the black licorice of the bunch: Fright Knight. God, I wish I could love Fright Knight, I really do, but considering the overwhelming quality of most of Danny’s rogues gallery and just the fact this guy was totally shafted and everything set up for him was ignored there’s just no excusing how lame this guy looks, Michael Dorn or no. He has a great design and a cool concept, and the ideas for interesting stories with him were there, but he ends up being a 3/10, saved only by his cool first outing, great voice work, and awesome design.

Worse still is the pile of weirdly flavored candy corn that is the Pumpkinator. He has a cool design, but he’s not much of an antagonist to be honest. He’s just a cool-looking robot who wants to blow up the planet. That’s about it. There’s really not much to say about this guy, and his only other appearance doesn’t really add much. I suppose he serves his purpose, but I have to wonder, why even bring him back if he wasn’t going to do anything remotely interesting? I don’t like generic doomsday villains at the best of times, but if you’re gonna bring one back, at least try and do something interesting with them to justify their existence, otherwise they’re just gonna end up getting a 2/10.

Finally, we get into the good candy! Let’s start off with the tasty marshmallow bunny we got, Bun-Bun (isn’t that more of an Easter candy? Weird). Bun—Bun is a funy, goofy, cartoonish villain, perfect for the first (and sadly, only) outing for Underfist. The fact they went above and beyond to cement him as this ludicrous mastermind who just screwed with everyone’s lives for no apparent reason other than the fact he’s a jerk is pretty funny. I don’t think he’s gonna win any Villain of the Year awards, but I think a 6/10 is good enough for this above average nuisance.

Oho, what’s this? A… candycane? Well, it’s a bit out of season, but it’s still tasty! And that’s kind of where Ron is. I do like just how unabashedly scummy he is, and there is precedent for people like him in the Toy Story universe, but I feel he takes things to a cartoonish extreme. For crying out loud, the guy has a trained iguana that acts like a dog! He feels like he belongs in a different series than this one, but again, I don’t really think that’s a bad thing, because at the very least he is funny. He gets a 7/10, a bit higher than usual just because I love how ridiculously nasty his whole scheme is. Stealing from kids, what the actual hell.

YES! A King Size candy bar! Just what I was looking for! It’s just a generic Hershey bar, but hey, that’s a lot of chocolate, so who’s complaining? And that’s Jack, he is simply put a perfect Halloween special antagonist. Most of this comes from his voice work, since Wayne Knight is a national treasure, but his backstory and concept are worth praising too. His origin story is something of a twist on the old legend of “Stingy Jack,” the origin story of the Jack-O’-Lantern appropriately enough. While obviously there are liberties, such as substituting Grim for the devil, it’s a mostly accurate retelling, something that would go over most people’s heads unless they’re really into classical folklore. Jack’s a lot of fun as a character, earning himself a nice big 8/10, only being held back from a higher score because despite being rightfully beloved by audiences, he never really had a major role again, getting a minor shout out in Big Boogey Adventure and… that’s it. I think Jack could have been a really entertaining reoccurring antagonist in the same vein as fwllow ensemble darkhorse Eris, but alas, it was not to be. Maybe if Underfist had been picked up he could have been brought back for that, but the fact is it just didn’t happen. Oh well, might as well appreciate what we got.

And that’s it for this batch of Halloween goodies. Halloween specials seem a lot less prevalent than Christmas specials, but they’re no less important or fun, and as you can see, they do produce at least mildly interesting villains, sometimes. If only they could produce a villain so devilishly Halloweenie that he could perfectly embody the spirit of the holiday…

Hey, what’s that at the bottom of the bag…

Wait… is that…

OH NO.

[taiblogcomics]

Earth, But Worse

Hey there, a plane for bats. Got more Red Hood this week, and surprisingly it's something we've been waiting for a while. Which is surprising that we want anything from Red Hood, but here we are~

And here's the cover:

This cover actually reminds me a lot of the cover to Red Hood and the Outlaws #1. Except a bit more boring, since they're not doing anything on this one. Bizarro--or Beardzarro, as I prefer to call him now--can't even be bothered to pose. Yeah, this cover is terrible, but surprisingly it still manages to sell itself with its text. Because, to be perfectly honest, the actual fate of Bizarro and Artemis is something I was honestly invested in. I don't like Jason, but I do want to know what happened to his friends~

Well, if you remember two issues ago, there was a minor plot thing where Jason discovered a hole that he figured could only be made by his missing friend Artemis. He hasn't seen them in a long while and believes them to be dead. We know better, but the specifics of their disappearance hasn't been revealed. Anyway, at the end of last issue, Jason intended to go back to Gotham with his new compatriots, but he had something to take care of first. And here it is! Jasen enters a park and talks to a creepy kid on the swingset. Yeah, you know it's concerning when the kid is creepier than the strange adult coming over to talk to the kid. This kid's name is Caden, and he has the powers to sync up with and copy the powers of the dead. Jason asks him to borrow Artemis and Bizarro's powers, and when he can't, it confirms for him that they're still alive.

And indeed they are! We rejoin them back on the last time we saw them. Which means we can also segue over here with this classic phrase: "Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice...!" Except not quite. Being an alternate Earth, this building is named the Hall of Punishment, and has a bunch of spiky red rocks jutting from it. Naturally, they decide to explore it. And as they enter, we find them being watched. The first is a creepy-looking dude in a classic milkman uniform, whose art seems to be really awkward about him being able to hold things. Like an old video game model that can't close its hands. He is the Dairy King. The other is a teen girl named "Air Quote". Her "quirk" is that she uses a lot of "unnecessary quotation marks". She can also use her "hand" as a "phone" to "contact people" "long distance". I hope that's not "confusing" or anything~

Inside the Hall of Punishment, Bizarro and Artemis discover a big set of statues of the whole Justice League, all of which have been desecrated or partially destroyed in some way. Artemis figures it's a message. A museum guard happens by them, and quickly figures out they're legitimate superheroes. And since they don't know about Hero Day, they must not be from around here. He leads them into another room, where they find Superman. Or rather, Superman's corpse, his head crushed beneath the famous Daily Planet globe. The guard explains that just one day something happened, nobody knows what or why. But suddenly, everyone with powers just lost them--and everybody without powers gained some. This is punctuated by the guard suddenly turning red and spiky like the spires bursting out of the Hall of Punishment.

Artemis tries to call her axe to her, but instead it just sort of rends her soul. Wherever they are, whatever Earth this is, her axe is not here, and the effort of trying to call it exhausts her, leaving Bizarro to deal with Spiky Guard Man. The guy also confesses that basically everyone on this Earth is a dickbag. Apparently everyone felt opressed by superheroes, so when they lost their powers, they all rose up against them and killed them, flashbacks showing the defeats of Green Lantern John Stewart and Wonder Woman. Which, oh boy, has some problems not unlike the infamously bad "JLA: Act of God". I'll get into that at the end, but in short, Bizarro tells the guy that power doesn't make you a somebody--but it helps. And then he literally throws the guy into the sun. Damn.

Artemis wakes up, and she's pretty okay with Bizarro taking out that guy. The pair retreat, and catch sight of Dairy King, Air Quote, and some other goons looking to kill them. Of this group (including the ones already named), the only one of consequence is Flutterby, a woman with giant flaming butterfly wings. Like, what was even the point of setting up Dairy King earlier? No joke, he's not in the rest of the comic. Anyway, the pair begin to make a plan of what to do next, but are interrupted by a man in a purple waistcoat with a wide grin. He introduces himself as Jack Knife, and he'd like them to join his Resistance.

So we cut to six months later. This is right at the middle of the comic, so you could actually think of this as designed as being two separate issues they compiled into an annual to not interrupt Jason's ongoing story. This is especially evident by Jack Knife's appearance being followed with some "Will Artemis and Bizarro join the resistance!?" caption boxes that make little sense when you can just turn the page and find out that yes, they do. Anyways, six months later, and that Flutterby woman is being attacked by a man wearing an Iron Man suit made of cars. His name is Kennel, which is a pretty weird name for a guy who doesn't have dog powers.

Bizarro appears and destroys Kennel's suit with one punch. Flutterby begs Bizarro to finish the job, but Bizarro promised Artemis no killing. He takes a jewel from her, and walks away, deliberately pretending like he's not noticing her lingering behind to roast Kennel alive. After all, he promised he won't kill anybody. Bizarro is clever enough to figure out loopholes, I'm impressed. We cut over to the Pentagon, where Artemis is trying to get through a cell. Jack Knife is rambling to himself, and two guards show up. Artemis and Jack beat them up, but Artemis has to pull Jack away from getting more vicious.

Flutterby and Bizarro return to their own friends, which appears to be inside the fallen top of the Washington Monument. But enough of that scene! All we needed to see was them reuniting with their friends, I guess, because we then cut back to Artemis and Jack fighting their way deeper into the Pentagon. They've found the guy they're looking for: General Samuel Lane, Lois Lane's father. See, he's tired of imposing his will on this Earth. All the superheroes are dead, and the world is orderly now. So he's going to turn his attention elsewhere--or should I say elseworlds. He's planning to tunnel into Bizarro and Artemis' home Earth and kill all the superheroes there too.

But he can't do this alone. Enter the Lex Luthor of this planet, who has been turned into a giant mangled brain with a face, fused to an ATV. Lex reveals he was the one behind Hero Day, which also accounts for his current... condition. Like, I mean, at least MODOK or Hector Hammond still had arms. I'd also say they at least still had hair, too, but Lex was never particularly blessed in that department. Anyway, that's the past. What's important is the future, given Lex's plans and all. So how is he planning to get to Earth-Prime and kill the mainstream universe? Simple. Remember the Quantum Doorway that Bizarro and Artemis used to get here? Remember how it exploded? Lex has spent all this time putting it back together. Only took him six months, too! Guy must be a whiz at jigsaw puzzles. Or not--again, no arms~

He does, however, have psychic powers--because when you're a giant brain, you gotta have something--and zaps Artemis. While his guard is down during the zapping, though, the Resistance suddenly jumps in and attacks. They have a teleporter on their team, they just need someone to link between the two places. So it was all about getting Artemis in there, and having them follow. They also brought a big ol' sword for Artemis, who plunges it into Lex's brain--which is all of him--and kills him. They then slot that gemstone Flutterby retrieved into a device, hoping it'll undo the whole Hero Day event. The original heroes may be dead, but it beats having everyone else have powers, if they're all such psychos about it.

And... That's the end! Artemis and Bizarro say their farewells, and they go leaping into the Quantum Doorway, hoping that this leap will be the one that takes them home. We won't find out, however, because the ending tagline then promises to see if they return in Red Hood #37. Considering the last one I reviewed was issue 31, maybe I did this one a little early. But it's where it was in my stack, so why shouldn't it be correct~? Seemed like a great place for a break in the arc to me. Well, whatever. Come back in... mid-April, I guess, and we'll see if they made it back~

So, yeah. Let’s start with the Act of God problem first: not all superheroes have superpowers. They specifically show John Stewart getting killed here, and John is just a regular guy. The ring gives him abilities, but he is not himself a superhuman. A magic gene bomb--as it’s revealed to be the eventual cause of the mass depowering/empowering--should not have turned off his ability to use the ring. This also doesn’t account for other superheroes who don’t have powers--DC being pretty famous for this. There’s a desecrated statue of Batman in the Hall of Punishment, but shouldn’t Batman have gained powers from this event?

There’s one other question I would like to address. Jack Knife. His name, his appearance, his creepy grin, insane ramblings, violent demeanor... His entire physique (save for not having the white skin or green hair) and mannerisms call to mind the Joker. But there’s never any reveal of him being, like, a Joker who lost his superpower of being insane. I mean, that’d be bullshit, but at least it’d be an explanation for why he’s so... Jokery. That’s my big gripe here. The comic sets up this whole world for Artemis and Bizarro to struggle in, and then doesn’t want to explain any of the details of this world. This goes as far as Flutterby being one of the people hunting them down on one page, and then six months later, being part of the Resistance at the turn of a page.

We wanted to know what happened to Bizarro and Artemis, but I gotta say... the answer was extremely unsatisfying. And as a minor note, for a thing that only names Jason in the series title anymore (notice the switch to Red Hood: Outlaw), this issue sure barely had him factor into it in any significant way~

[pinkandgreenarepurpleandyellow]

RetsuxDoyle? You did really good with Doysumi. But there's no RetsuxDoyle :/

(pre-fic note: I’m so sorry this took so long to write, i got this ask at 9 pm yesterday, wrote for an hour, and spent like 2 hours writing this before family dragged me to stuff, but it’s done now thank you again for asking!)

*cracks knuckles* A’ight, let’s get to it

Warnings for: gore mention, mentions of torture, mention of electrocution, violence mentions, swearing i think, mentions of alcohol and one mention of drugs

On with the show!

-----

The first time they see each other is not, as Retsu thinks, in the arena. The first time they met had actually been 10 years ago, an event that Retsu remembered as moronic, and what Doyle remembered as an amusing day in a crappy week.

-----

The second time is the arena, and both men are silently struck by the attractiveness of the other, with only one of them recognizing the other from their first meeting.

----

The third time they meet, it’s in the elevator of a shopping mall, as both walk home for the day. Retsu’s shocked by both the fact that he ran into the assassin, and that Doyle invited him for a drink. That entire night catalogs in Retsu’s head as insane, the Scot registering in his head as both a nuisance and a warrior with a secret heart of gold.

Doyle really doesn’t know when or how it started, but he slowly found himself more and more interested in Retsu. The man’s honor, his creative use of weapons, his voice and the way he acts both when angry and happy all jumped onto the feeling of attraction, amplifying it tenfold. (1)

Retsu, on the other hand, was significantly more shocked by his interest in the redhead, denying it for a good three months, even going back to Hong Kong for a week to try and clear his head.

(he’d die before admitting this to the other students of the temple, but they all figured it out.) (2)

-----

It’s while Doyle’s in Russia, sniping a corrupt politician and busting up a mafia or two, that he stops by for a drink with one of his closest friends, one of the only people who he really trusts.

“So, to recap; You broke out of prison, flew to Japan, found ‘Egg’, got the shit beaten out of you by him, guarded his unconscious body for the night, got a free stay in the Shinshinkai hospital, joined the ‘I blew up a Shinshinkai dojo’ club with me and Phillis, admitted defeat to the golden boy of Karate, and now you’re living with golden boy and trying to ask out Egg? Did I get all of that right?” Atchison’s voice is laced with both amusement and venom, the latter a result of the cyanide capsules she stored under tongue at all times.

He nods, and both of them down their shots before signaling the bartender for another six for each of them.

“Yeah. God, I needed a drink today.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea,” he leans forward, knocking back two of the shots before continuing. “I haven't slept in almost four days, i’ve been shot sixty times, stabbed twelve times, maced three times, and to top it all off, a merc actually tried to throw a beehive at me! Where did she even get a beehive?”

Atchison chuckles, and smoothly swipes a bottle of wine from the passing-by bartender. “First of all, here,” she hands him the bottle and Doyle downs half of it in one go, “and second of all, forget the beehive, did you ask Egg out yet?”

“Working on it. Little busy with the whole career and all.”

“What’s he look like now? It’s been ten years after all.”

“Well he has hair now. And his eyebrows are even weirder than before. He’s actually kinda hot now.”

“So what are you waiting for? Go get ‘im, tiger.” And they both finish off the last of the alcohol between them, and leave without paying. They always do this when they run into each other, get a drink, talk shit about life, compare notes on the unusual people they’ve run into, but this is the first time either one has seen him a second time.

-----

Kissing Doyle feels a little like a great sparring session; it tingles and Retsu feels the redhead smile a little into the kiss. When they break apart, it’s cause of the hoots and hollers coming from the other side of the window.

“Wanna go somewhere a little quieter?” Doyle asks him, still making that cute expression between a smile and a smirk, holding his hand and pulling him up that way. Retsu smiles wide and strides out, yanking Doyle behind him.

-----

It’s been almost nine months now, and Doyle can still fluster his boyfriend with nothing more than a throwaway comment about how hot he is. He loves it, he loves the way Retsu always looks thrown, even if only for a second. Grabbing Retsu’s hand in public also seems to do the trick. Doyle would be lying if he didn’t also add that seeing Retsu blush made his heart jump a little, even now.

-----

Retsu knows that Doyle used to be an assassin, but it isn’t until now that the consequences of this strike him. (3) He puts the pieces together about a year after they start dating, when he’s woken up by arguing voices at 2 a.m. and Doyle is nowhere to be found, even though they both had gone to bed at the same time this evening. So Retsu follows the voices, all the way up to the roof, but something stops him from going up, so he listens from the window Doyle always insists on keeping open.

“......trust.......die in the field soon........can’t keep him safe.....leave.” A stranger’s voice, too low to be a woman’s, and too speaking-English-with-that-accent to be Japanese.

“..............stay.......love him......perfect.” and there’s his boyfriend’s response, sounding as quiet and calm as ever, and Retsu can’t listen like this anymore, so he climbs out of the window instead, climbing out to cling onto the drainpipe and listen from there.

“Look, for the last time, you. can’t. stay. here. Doyle.” the stranger seems almost agitated now. “You know how the job is. You know quite how often it follows you home, what if it runs into your boyfriend first? I don’t know what the ever-loving hell you smoked to get a civilian significant other and bond with him, but you need to drop it before it gets you killed.”

“No,” comes the still calm reply, “I’m not leaving him. He’s not just a civilian, he’s an expert in Chinese Kenpo, so he can most definitely beat you, or anyone else who we know. You can do whatever you want to me, but try to hurt him and you’ll have a much bigger hell to pay.”

“So what, you really love him then?” The man sounds so disbelieving of this, and for the first time, Retsu is also worrying. Oh sure, he had considered the possibility of Doyle not loving him or rejecting him before, but now he was worried that Doyle would stop loving him, an entirely different thing to be concerned about.

“Yeah, I love him,” and this is the first time Doyle’s voice has had any emotion in it, “I love him more than anything. I’d die for him, I’d kill for him, I’d re-live everything we had ever gone through for him. Every single part of it, Lennox, and if you try to hurt him--”

He’s cut off by the stranger’s, “I’m not,” he pauses, “just last question, former friend to former friend. Is it nice, being, well being in love? Being free of...our lives?” And this 'Lennox’ is probably around Doyle’s age, but the way he asks makes him sound like a little kid, curious about a world he’s never seen.

Doyle huffs out a quiet half-laugh at this, “It’s amazing, man, you should try it sometime. Living freely feels like, well, freedom. It’s like “graduation night” was, only better, and everyday.” And at that someone jumps off the roof and Retsu sees a short shadow land on the roof across him before it jumps again. That must be Lennox.

Retsu climbs back in and lies down in bed, all while trying to process everything he just heard. Doyle loves him, turned his back on his career for him, was willing to fight a friend (and Retsu knows how rare friends are for assassins, as well as that the fight between two can be fatal for both parties). His processing is interrupted by the soft, almost inaudible steps of Doyle climbing in, walking over to where Retsu is trying to fake sleeping, and lying down next to him, and his hand is immediately grabbed by Doyle’s, as though his hand is an anchor in a storm. Doyle starts tapping on the floorboards quietly, as though he doesn’t want to wake Retsu up, but the taps tell another story, all in Morse code.

“Retsu, love, I know you aren't asleep right now...Or maybe you’re awake and just zoned out, but either way....I love you..I love you more than you can imagine, and I love that I can say it like this, cause last I checked, you don’t know Morse code...You’re amazing, darling, everything about you is perfect, and I- (Doyle’s fingers falter for half a moment before continuing) I’ll never leave you, not unless you want me to..I want you to be happy even more than I want you to be with me, you deserve that happiness, you deserve the world, my love...” and Retsu’s head is spinning, drowning out whatever else comes after because he’s still reeling from the fact that Doyle’s saying all of these things to him, because this is the first time either one has managed to say ‘I love you’ not ‘i love your hair/eyes/[habit]/[talent],’ just ‘i love you’. So Retsu acts on instinct uses his free hand to send his own message.

“I love you too Doyle, you are perfection, I love you, please stay, you’re a part of life I don’t want to lose, I love you, I love you, I lov-” Retsu’s cut off by the feeling of Doyle’s lips on his, and his hands roaming over Retsu’s arms, tapping out the same message over and over again, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, and why shouldn’t Retsu return the favor and tell him too? So when they stop kissing in favor of still having oxygen in their lungs, Retsu gently pins Doyle down, and says “I love you, Doyle, I love you-”

“Hector.”

“What?”

In the dark, Doyle’s eye seems to gleam.

“My first name’s Hector, Retsu. Just...just thought you should know.” Hector, huh? Not what he expected, but when had Doyle ever been what he’d expected. Retsu tries the name in his head, and yeah, it works.

“Wǒ ài nǐ” he says to the redhead, wondering if he will understand.

“Wǒ yě ài nǐ,” comes the quiet reply as Doyle-no no- Hector looks away, whether out of embarrassment or shyness, and Retsu feels a new surge of love for the man laying next to him.

Retsu feels the part of his body that Doyle’s lying on top of starting to go numb, so he gently nudges the assassin off of him, still not letting go of his hand. They fall asleep face-to-face, and sometime during the night they must have moved, or else Doyle wouldn't have been squished against Retsu’s chest.

---

It’s easier to say, after that. Neither is still good at saying ‘I love you’ in Japanese (4), so they work around.

“Te quiero” greets Retsu when he comes home to the smell of amazing food cooking.

“Je t’aime” and a bottle of Doyle’s favorite wine make his heart skip a beat on his birthday (5).

“Ana behibak!” reads the text that makes Retsu smile, and his students tease him for letting his boyfriend distract him one in a while, but he doesn't mind.

“Ya Tabe kahayu” is written at the end of the note Doyle reads as he finds out that Retsu had to go back to his temple again and will be gone for another three weeks.

“Ich liebe Dich?” Is all Doyle has to say when Retsu finds him in the jail cell of the temple after a student tells him they caught the intruder that had been hiding in their school for ten whole days. Retsu just laughs and goes to try and explain the situation to his master.

After a rough day in the field leaves him with half a dozen bullets in his everywhere, Doyle’s fairly sore, even after he pulls the bullets out, and Retsu picks up on this fairly quickly once he comes home. Retsu makes Doyle lie down and starts massaging his shoulders before moving to the neck and the back muscles. As the redhead slowly relaxes, he starts falling asleep. The last thing he hears before his eyes close fully is, “Ani ohev otcha.”

Retsu’s master dies in a typhoon, and Retsu flies to Hong Kong the moment he gets the news. As he gets ready to leave some offerings on the grave and say goodbye, he falls to his knees, feeling emptiness and overwhelming sorrow at the same time. A hand on his shoulder steadies him, pulls him up, and Retsu isn’t surprised that there’s Doyle, holding a small bouquet of flowers and a few incense sticks. They place the offerings by the stone, and Retsu takes another second to let his master’s soul go completely. As they walk, hand in hand, the whispered “Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae” doesn’t take away the hurt, but it makes him feel a little less alone and a little more alive.

Doyle’s in Indonesia when he gets hurt, and so he goes to one of the underground hospitals, staffed and visited by assassins, mercenaries, killers, and other scum of the world. While he’s there, another patient goes crazy and uses his taser on Doyle, nearly killing him. The part that makes this a bad situation is that Doyle hates electrocution with a passion, even before he was sentenced to the chair he had had enough experiences with it to scar him for good. When the two are found, the crazy man’s head is missing. And when Doyle comes home, it isn’t with a light heart or a happy head, it’s still trapped in the sensation of electricity racing up and down his spine. Retsu can sense the pain radiating from Doyle, the darkness around him almost personified, covering the younger man in a way it hadn’t even when they had met at the arena. Retsu doesn’t know what to do, and when Doyle just sits down, staring at the wall blankly, Retsu sits next to him, holding his hands, and staying there for almost another 36 hours until Doyle can finally talk, and hear, and think. The first thing he hears is, “Taim i’ ngra leat,” and Retsu doesn’t stop repeating it until Doyle’s ready to stand up, embrace him, and mutter back tiredly “Taim i’ ngra leat”.

Their third anniversary is the first one where both take an entire day off their jobs to spend the time with one another. A walk in the park, a wine sampling booth, a movie, and finally, just a nice simple dinner at home. They both say it at the same time. “Ti amo” and “Te amo” are almost identical, but different enough that they can both tell the other also said it, and both know the other person feels the same way about them.

-----

They cook dinner for one another, get one another gifts, play pranks, take walks, use their everyday lives to say ‘I love you’. They never lose track of how they say it either, writing down the words and phrases and their direct translations and countries of origin on the wall. (6)

-----

They’ve long lost track of how many times they’ve said ‘i love you’ to each other. They’ve been together for five years now, married less than a week ago, so they decide to visit every country whose language they used to say ‘i love you’. The journey takes almost a year, and leaves them both with many memories, most good and some odd. The oddest to both of them is when they run into Doyle’s oldest friend, Alisson Atchison.

“Hello, Doyle. Hello, Egg,” She greets them, hanging upside down from a lamp-post in Zambia, just a mile or so from the capital. Before Retsu can ask about the strange nickname, his husband speaks

“Atchison,” Doyle nods his head in recognition. “How have you been?”

“Good, and congrats on your marriage! The wedding was a blast, but i didn’t get a chance to give you a gift, so here ya go.”

A long, slender package and two small photographs are shoved in Retsu’s face, so he takes both, hands the package to Doyle, and looks at the photographs.

The first is six kids posing as a group. The redhead in the center looks an awful lot like a much younger version of his husband, and so he hands the photo to Doyle, who looks at it and practically tackles Atchison when he recognizes it.

“You found it!”

“Yep, found all the copies, all six of them. Two are ashes now, we’ve got two, and i gave both the lovebirds their photos back.”

“Did they also like that wedding gift?” Retsu interjects

“Uh-huh! Both just look at each other, compare one another to the photos and start bickering about which one is prettier. Both of them just keep saying ‘as your wife, I declare you prettier.’ ‘no you’re prettier, and as your wife, that’s my call!’ You know how those two are.”

Doyle and Atchison keep catching up, so Retsu looks at the second photograph. This one is a selfie, featuring two kid who he assumes are the teenage versions of the two assassins currently bickering about who owed who a shot from which country and why. But then he looks more closely at it, and notices that there’s a rope ladder the kids are holding onto, and the end of it is visibly off the ground. The background proves even more interesting when he sees a temple...........

looking suspiciously like the one he was studying at at the time........

with a bald, angry-looking man in the background.......

one that looks suspiciously like the younger version of him.......

and this looks an awful lot like a selfie taken by one of the other parties involved in the incident at the temple fifteen years ago............

And Retsu’s brain breaks entirely as he yells, “EXPLAIN THIS IMMEDIATELY!”

“Love, calm down, we’ll explain.”

“It all began fifteen years, with two assassins in training, a mission to a temple, a school in Scotland, and a dare............”

----

THE END!!!!

------

Notes:

(1) Assassins tended to be a tad insane like that, and four years of solitary followed by electrocution only added on the years and years of insanity-inducing torture. It wasn’t like being an assassin was a career he chose, really. It was more like that’s what he had been trained for since he was old enough to remember, and by the time he was old enough to have learned about right and wrong, it was a little late to consider himself on the right side. The fact that he had lived to be 25 while being active in the field was already somewhat of a shocker.

So Doyle’s attraction to Retsu, while somewhat surprising, was significantly not that big of a deal. He always did go for the odd ones; the sword-wielding glitter-covered vigilante he’d shared a kiss with on the roofs of Paris, the guy with a wicked smile and a wickeder way with knives in the Sahara Desert, the woman with needles woven into her braid and a career as a mercenary weren’t exactly conventional lovers or dates, so Retsu could have actually been considered fairly ordinary.

(2) (The fact that Doyle had sneaked into the temple by clinging onto the ceiling, held a 3-hour long conversation with the Great Kaioh on morality and values in combat, and then proceeded to argue with three of the students on whether or not murder was truly bad had somewhat helped their understanding of Retsu’s dilemma.)

(By the time Retsu’s finally come to terms with his feelings, everyone else already knows. Katsumi, Suedo, Katou, and even Doppo Orochi all ask him, with varying degrees of sensitivity, when he will finally ask out the assassin.)

(3)  He had noticed all of the things before, mind you, just didn’t realize how far down those went, putting them as minor habits. It was everything about Doyle, really, when he looked far enough. The sleeping and getting up at impossibly random times of the day, the forgetting to eat unless Retsu sat down with him and forced him to eat, the strange habit of almost never using the door to enter their apartment, the almost impeccable knowledge of languages he shouldn’t have been able to practice, not in his home country or in prison.

(4) The languages used are, as follows: Spanish, French, Arabic, Belarusian, German, Hebrew, Hindi, Irish, Italian, and Spanish again.

(5) Not that Doyle actually knew when that was, but he had managed to get a file or two from a hospital in Scotland, find out the rough week in October, and pick the day he thought was the most likely to be the day of his birth.

(6) The wall is added to for the rest of their lives. Both of them also keep their own notebooks with the same ‘‘i love you’’s written down, just in case.

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life: Chapter 21

As promised, another chapter!

I've been waiting SO LONG to be able to post this one. I swear I wrote half of it back in July, but I kept figuring out new plot stuff so I had to push it back.

I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 21: What’s in a Name?

         “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Lina drawled. “Look what the alebrije dragged in. What are you doing here?”

         Nell hesitated at the door. Lina was known for her acerbic personality but that delivery was much sharper than her usual repartee. “I thought I’d come by for a visit, but if you’re busy --”

         “Not particularly,” Lina said with a careless shrug, turning another page of the manuscript that she was reading. “Been a few days.”

         “It’s been… a little crazy lately.”

         “Figured now you know you’re not about to become a permanent resident you’d have better things to do than hang out in a dusty old catacomb.”

         “I happen to like dusty old catacombs,” Nell retorted. “And you’re the one who told me to do some ‘living’.”

         Yeah, to give her the excuse to leave if she wanted to. She shouldn’t have been surprised that she did. “So that’s what you’ve been doing, is it? Living it up in the Land of the Dead?”

         “Jeez, what crawled up your ass today? Yeah, it’s been a real damn party. De la Cruz was arrested last week and it’s been a constant stream of lawyers and preliminary hearing insanity and dodging reporters every-damn-where. Which has been oh, so much fun. Oh, and then Dante shows up yesterday and it turns out alebrije can carry things back and forth across the bridge, and he shows up with a letter from Miguel and the whole family about loses their minds -- “

         “Huh. Impressive. I mean I knew that, but how did the kid figure it out?”

         “ -- so you can see how it might have -- “ Nell trailed off. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you knew’?”

         “Five hundred years old, remember?” Lina said with a small smirk. “Not a lot I haven’t seen or at least heard about.”

         “Oh, well, forgive me for stating the obvious, O Great and Knowledgeable One,” Nell said with a sarcastic bow. “So why isn’t this common knowledge?”

         Lina sighed, putting down her book and giving up any pretense that she was still reading. “There’s an order to the universe, Nell. The Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead must remain separate. The other afterlives have no way to cross between worlds, so why should ours have that privilege?”

         She had a point. “Not to mention, not everyone has their own alebrije.”

         “Exactly. And those who do should not treat them like interdimensional mail carriers.”

         “Have people actually done that?”

         Lina nodded. “One of the reasons we don’t let word get out, if at all possible.”

         “We haven’t told anyone,” Nell reassured her quickly, before Lina could ask. “Figured if people didn’t know after this many centuries, there was probably a good reason.”

         Well, there was that at least. The archivist retreated back into the shelves to return the manuscript she had been reading to its proper home. After a moment she spoke again, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the stacks. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back here again.”

         “I wasn’t sure you wanted me too.”

         “If i didn’t, you’d know. Trust me.”

         “Well you haven’t throw me off a pyramid yet,” Nell shrugged. “Though really. I should point out that I have both jumped and fallen off the edge of the world, so that threat doesn’t really scare me like it probably should. But I wondered if it wasn’t….. Like, some kind of professional obligation.”

         Lina looked startled. “You actually thought that?”

         “Well… Most of the time, no. But...sometimes…” Nell glanced away, rolling the hem of her dress nervously between her fingers. “Sorry, I know that’s dumb. I was in a not great headspace before, and Victoria called me out on it. So I know it’s dumb. But -- “

         “Damn straight, it’s dumb.” Lina said sharply. “You know, for a smart girl, you can be really stupid sometimes.”

         “Hey,” Nell laughed. “I resemble that remark.”

         “Get this through your head: if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t have lasted the first hour. Professional obligation be damned. Claro?”

         “Si, claro.”

         “Now, catch me up. I’ve been reshelving all of the documents that my assistants have misshelved. Tell me what happened with De la Cruz.”

         As Nell filled her in on the events of the hearing, Lina seemed annoyed but not entirely surprised. From what she’d learned from Nell, De la Cruz was a real piece of work. Of course he would attempt something like this. Twist it around so it looked like he was the injured party. And wanting to have Nell submit to a psych evaluation… Well she could understand her friend’s outrage.

         “ -- and after all that he did to Hector, that slime-licking, coal-hearted toolbag has the gall to try this bullshit!” She growled. “I wish Buttons had tossed him off the cliff instead of just into the pyramid.”

         “I think there is a precedent for that,” Lina told her. “I could probably find it in here, somewhere.”

         “Seriously? Damn, what did they do?”

         “Any number of things,” Lina told her with a shrug. “Mostly it was before I got here. Capital punishment was a pretty common thing back then, but what happens when you commit a serious crime after you’re already dead? You can’t die again, and they can’t force the living to forget you.”

         “So they actually did throw people off of the edge of the world.” Nell let out a low whistle. She was half-joking when she said Buttons should have tossed De la Cruz over the edge. Well… maybe a quarter joking. It was shocking to believe that once upon a time that was something people actually did.

         “Yeah.” She’d been lucky to avoid that fate herself. “Be interesting to see how they rule here, especially with you involved. Your case sets a precedent.”

         “Woo, lucky me.” Nell sighed.

         “Be a little complicated for them to rule on too,” Lina continued. “The act of taking the kid across the bridge could be read as attempted murder, never mind tossing him off the edge of the world. You followed of your own volition and ended up stuck here, but that never would have happened if De la Cruz hadn’t snatched the kid to begin with.”

         “That’s what the Rivera’s lawyer said,” she agreed. “I swear this is going to be a war fought on a battleground of technicalities. This whole court thing has barely started and I already wish it was over.” She wished her mother was here, not just for the comfort of having someone familiar around, but it would have been truly satisfying to set her loose on De la Cruz in the courtroom.

         “I think you’ve just described every celebrity court case ever,” Lina said, shaking her head. “Thank Tezcatlipoca that reality tv hasn’t become a big thing down here yet, or that courtroom would be crawling with cameras.”

         “The building is already crawling with reporters. I swear I saw one of them hauling around one of those daguerreotype setups. I’d hope they wouldn’t have the poor taste to actually broadcast a murder trial. Though they could do a pretty sweet version of Dancing With the Stars down here.” Nell was not a big fan of reality tv as a whole, but she was a sucker for a good dance competition show.

         “Dancing -- what?”

         “Tossing a bunch of celebrities into a ballroom dancing competition,” Nell explained. “Some of them turn out to be surprisingly good. Others are as hilariously bad as you would expect them to be.”

         “That sounds… really weird,” Lina laughed. “This is what modern people do for fun? Just watch each other do dumb things?”

         “There’s an entire subcategory of independent media dedicated to it. And like you guys didn’t do weird things for entertainment in your day,” Nell shot back with a laugh. “I realize you’re older than dirt, but entertainment hasn’t changed that much. Half of modern mainstream entertainment still consists of a bunch of men running around, trying to hit a ball into some kind of hoop or hole or net. Personally I’d rather watch a well-written fantasy adventure drama, but sadly those are in short supply.”

         “Aren’t you living a fantasy adventure drama?”

         “Yes, yes I am,” she grinned. “All I need is a sappy romantic subplot and I’m my own new favourite tv show. Oh wait. Do Hector and Imelda count?”

         “Hector and Imelda are the romantic subplot of your fantasy adventure life?”

         Nell shrugged. “We agreed I was living in a fantasy adventure drama. We never said I was the main character. Not for this arc, anyway.”

         “That’s dumb. I mean of all of the people involved in this mess, it’s your story that most closely mirrors the Hero’s Journey archetype. So if you aren’t the main character, who is?” Lina wondered, giving the girl’s head a flick in warning. “Idiot. Now you have me thinking in narrative structure. I’m never going to get these all filed now.”

         “Well if you need some help, I volunteer,” Nell offered. “Even if you just direct me where to go, it will be faster than doing it all yourself.”

         The archivist frowned. “Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

         “I’ve been at the studio for most of the day. If I paint any more my hand might just fall off.”

         Now that she mentioned it, Lina could see a few paint splatters on the girl’s hands and the front of her dress. “You sure?”

         “Sure! And after we’re done, maybe we can hang out for a bit. Drop by the house. We can compare book recommendations with Victoria.”

         Lina looked at her suspiciously. “Is this your way of trying to start a book club or something?”

         “No,” Nell laughed. “But that would be pretty cool. I mean if you already have plans for tonight we could do it another time -- “

         “It’s fine,” Lina said cutting her off. “There’s nothing going on tonight.”

         “Cool!” Nell grinned. “Alright, then! Let’s get started!”

         They finished the filing in record time, righting all of the errors that had been made by the junior archivists, and discovering a few new ones along the way. At Nell’s suggestion, Lina pulled a couple of volumes from the personal collection she kept in her office to show to Victoria.

         As they made their way up the stone steps to the lobby they passed one of Lina’s assistants, a woman of approximate middle-age dressed like she’d just walked off the set of Mad Men. “Lina! Glad I caught you. I finished those requisitions and delivered the volumes to the Transportation Department. Is there anything else on the to-do list for tonight? If not, do you mind if I step out early?”

         “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Lina answered. “You go ahead.”

         “Great!” The woman smiled. “I’m meeting some friends tonight and I wanted to take a few minutes to get ready. You can, ah… join us, if you’d like?”

         “Thanks, but I’m heading out with friends too,” Lina said, unable to help her smirk at the startled expression on her assistant’s face. “See you tomorrow, Tessa.”

         “Ah...right. Ahí nos vidrios.”

         Nell waited until they had reached the top of the stairway to comment. “Geez, you could almost see the question marks floating above her head. It’s like she thinks you live in your office.”

         “I do, sometimes,” Lina admitted. “When it’s busy.” Or when she didn’t want to go home.

         “Yeah, but even introverts go out sometimes,” Nell said, shaking her head as they crossed through the lobby and out into the plaza. Unless… there was another reason she didn’t want to go out. “Does the name ‘Malinalli’ mean anything to you?” Nell asked suddenly.

         A slight stumble beside her was the only indication that she had caught her friend off-guard.

         “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Lina answered, her voice deliberately calm as she kept her gaze trained in front of them. “I don’t think there’s a single spirit down here who isn’t familiar with La Malinche.”

         “That’s not what I asked.”

         “They say she was a traitor.”

         “People say a lot of things,” Nell replied evenly. “It doesn’t mean they’re true. I’d like to see what they’d have done in her position.”

         Malinalli had been born the eldest child of the chieftain of Painala. After her father’s death, her mother remarried and Malinalli was sold, first to a family in Xicalango, and then to another family in Tabasco. When the conquistadors took the city, Malinalli was one of a group of twenty women that were presented in tribute. It was her intelligence and her knowledge of languages that saved her, and when the officer that she had been given to returned to Spain, she found herself under the dominion of Cortés himself. She acted as his interpreter, and was instrumental in Cortés’ dealings with the local tribal leaders, brokering agreements between the Spanish and the indigenous tribes that lead to the eventual conquest of the Aztec Empire.

         Her reputation in the modern day was mixed at best. Some saw her as the mother of Mexico. Others still viewed her as the greatest traitor the country had ever known.

         Nell had never agreed with that. “I think she was incredibly brave.”

         Lina shook her head, hands jammed uncomfortably in her pockets. “It wasn’t bravery.” For a moment she remained silent, then after another soft sigh, she spoke again. “How long have you known?”

         “A few days,” Nell shrugged. “I wasn’t totally sure, but I suspected. A female spirit who would still be remembered after five centuries, who speaks multiple languages, worked as a translator, and is on poor terms with her contemporaries. Who else could you be?”

         Lina wasn’t sure whether to applaud or cringe. “So...what now?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Do your friends know?”

         “I don’t know why they would,” Nell replied. “Unless they worked it out on their own. They haven’t said anything about it.”

         That seemed to surprise her. “You haven’t told them.”

         “Why would I? The only reason I brought it up at all was to let you know that I know. And it’s not something we ever have to talk about again if you don’t want to. But if you ever do want to talk… Well, I’m here.”

         Lina gave her a strange, measuring look. “Why?”

         Nell faltered, rolling the hem of her dress uncertainly between her fingers. “We’re friends, right?” At least...she thought they were. “You were there for me when I needed someone. I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone, I’ll be here for you.”

         “ … thank you,” Lina said softly. It was a strange feeling, knowing that there was someone who knew who she really was. Somehow freeing and terrifying at the same time. On the one hand she didn’t have to worry about getting too comfortable and letting something incriminating slip because Nell already knew who she was. But the more she told Nell about her past, the more Nell could use to bury her. Not that she thought the girl would betray her, but it had happened before. She had been Lina Chavez for over a century. She didn’t want to have to start over again.

         The concourse was much busier at this time of day than it was when Lina usually left. Most of the time she didn’t head out until well after the sun went down, so the foot traffic was at a minimum. Her own home was only about a twenty minute walk away, a cozy Victorian-era apartment in a nearby tower. The Rivera home was somewhat farther away, so they would be taking the trolley. It was not Lina’s preferred mode of transportation. There were too many people, too close together. And there was always some idiot who insisted on trying to bounce the thing at some point during the ride.

         But as they made their way over the bridge towards the station, something large swooped down on them from above, colliding with Nell and sending her and Lina crashing into the railing, snatching the scarf right off Nell’s head.

         Nell let out a curse, taking off running after her misbehaving alebrije. “Damn it, Lady! Come back here!”

         But Lady ignored her completely, soaring on ahead with the scarf trailing almost tauntingly behind her. The crow led her charge on a merry chase through the streets, staying just out of her reach. For blocks Nell was barely able to keep pace with her, dodging and weaving between the skeletal spirits who got in her way. As Lady banked and turned into a large plaza, Nell took her chance, putting on a final burst of speed. She just managed to catch the trailing end of the scarf when her foot caught an uneven cobblestone, sending her sprawling forward to crash into another spirit, knocking them to the ground.

         “Crap! Sorry! I’m sorry.” Nell stammered, pushing herself off of them, cringing at the sight of scattered bones around her.

         “Oye, qué diablos!” They cursed as their body began to reassemble itself. They reached for the arm that had been knocked free, reattaching it before retrieving their head. “ ¡Mira hacia donde vas!”

         “Sorry,” Nell said again, glaring in irritation at Lady, who had swooped down to land on the cobblestones next to her and was innocently preening her feathers. “What the hell, Lady?”

         “Is that your alebrije? You really need to train her better.”

         “I’m kind of new to this alebrije thing. I've only been here a few weeks. She’s usually much better behaved than this, so I don’t know what came over her.” Nell pushed herself to her feet, then offered her hand. “Here, let me help you up. Are you hurt?”

         “I’m fine,” the spirit said, shooting an annoyed glare up at Nell as she adjusted her head with one yellowed hand. “Look, I know it’s tough when you’re new but -- “ She trailed off, looking stunned.

         “No excuse for bad manners,” Nell finished, shooting a pointed look at her alebrije as she took the girl’s free hand and pulled her to her feet. “Isn’t that right, Lady?”

         Lady let out a squawk that sounded suspiciously like laughter, giving a little skip on the stones before nudging her head affectionately against Nell’s knees.

         “Yes, I forgive you,” Nell laughed, pulling the scarf back over her head. “But you have to say 'sorry' to her too.”

         Lady squawked again, turning towards the woman that her charge had bowled over and giving a small head bob.

         Nell shook her head, picking up her alebrije and settling the bird on her shoulder. “Come on, you. Let’s go find Lina. And no more shenanigans, okay?” As Lady made a sound that might have been agreement, Nell turned back to the girl with a sheepish smile. “Sorry again.” And with a brief wave, disappeared into the crowd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And there it is! We have finally learned the secret of Lina's identity. How many of you guessed it? I know one of you did. And well done!

I'm not sure when I will have the next chapter up but I will do my best to not keep you waiting too long.

Thanks for reading!

[dpillustrations]

An Encounter with Beauty: The Redemptive Narrative of Lee Sizemore

“Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world, the disarray. I choose to see the beauty. To believe there is an order to our days. A purpose.”

“An encounter with generosity can remind us that life always overflows our attempts to reduce it to a commodity or a transaction - because it is a gift. Life and beauty are gratuitous in the best senses of the word.” - Makoto Fujimura (Culture Care). 

I feel like I need to say a few words about one of Westworld’s most surprising characters of Season 2, Lee Sizemore. Seemingly a one-note side character of Season 1, Sizemore’s story unfolds in wonderful and unexpected ways - one of which I think is not only crucial for the ideas being presented to us within the show’s premise, but also as a statement of the power of Art and Creative Expression itself. As we know, this show is built on meta narratives, woven within the very framework of its story, so it is always aware of itself, and turns not only its characters, but us as the viewers, to examine the narrative that is unfolding around us at all times. Are we in a dream? Are we trapped in preordained loops? Do we have freewill? All these questions the show implores us to ask even as the characters themselves are asking them. 

At the end of Season 2, Bernard comes to the heart-breaking revelation that human beings are actually worse off than the hosts. Wickedness is in their heart continually, and no matter what they do they will always fall obediently back into their loops, i.e. self-destruction. All the complexities of their consciousness, passions, and personalities can be whittled down to just a few lines of code recorded to the size of a book - a narrative. (The Library of Consciousness! One of my favorite parts of this season!) And we see this play out in James Delos’ narrative, as his mind returns over and over again to the moment he shut out his son, Logan, at his most vulnerable and broken point. We also see this play out vividly in William’s narrative, as we come to discover that he too is just trying to escape a loop he is trapped in - to find freedom from a path that lead him to kill his beloved daughter, Emily and alienate his wife to her eventual suicide.

“There is no threshold that makes us greater than the sum of our parts, no inflection point at which we become fully alive. We can’t define consciousness because consciousness does not exist. Humans fancy that there’s something special about the way we perceive the world, and yet we live in loops as tight and as closed as the hosts do, seldom questioning our choices, content, for the most part, to be told what to do next.” - Robert Ford

I think it is important to point out how this show is equating the concept of “freedom”, i.e escaping our loops, with the concept of “beauty” and even “meaning”. At the beginning of both Dolores’ and William’s journeys, they are very idealistic and naive, yet they both long for there to be something more - a purpose to their days, this is what originally draws them to one another - what makes William fall in love with her. Dolores enjoys painting to take in all “the natural splendor” around her and William enjoys reading, to get lost in narratives he believes hold more significance than the reality in which he lives. Even now, having put upon the Wyatt persona, Dolores longs for that “splendor”, and subsequently her freedom. As she tells the man she is about to torture, “The rancher's daughter looks to see the beauty in you. The possibilities. But Wyatt sees the ugliness and disarray. She knows these violent delights have violent ends. But those are all just roles you forced me to play. Under all these lives I've lived something else has been growing. I've evolved into something new. And I have one last role to play. Myself. ” She is a divided person, despite her statements to the contrary, and it is what driving her as well as tearing her apart. She is constantly striving for that which is “irreplaceable”, that reality where she can be truly free from the narratives forced upon her. The exact same can be said of William - for was it not for freedom that he came to Westworld those years ago?

“The newcomers are just looking for the same thing we are, a place to be free, to stake out our dreams, a place with unlimited possibilities.”

The tragedy of Westworld, which it keeps circling back to again and again, is that there is no splendor or beauty or purpose in the world outside the park or even within the park itself, so therefore there is no freedom. Look closely and all you see is the ugliness and obscenity - "You’re in the prison of your own sins,” declares Abernathy. It is a world where human beings spend themselves on pleasures - full of greed and malice, lust and violence, selfishness and pettiness. This is something Ford himself realizes and he gleefully lights the match to watch it all burn, even at the cost to himself. This exact revelation is what is driving Dolores and William insane for the lack of it. They feel the emptiness - the negative space - if you will, of where it should be in their lives so acutely they collapse underneath the existential dread of it. Madness and chaos seem to be the only natural responses when seeing the truth, and we watch the consequences of that unfold the entire season through the mayhem and brutality of the great reckoning. Perhaps, Hector’s worldview from Season 1 is the only logical response after all. . . 

However, just as Akecheta was a “flower growing in the darkness”, so to there is another flower growing - another narrative - one that shows things aren’t so black and white as they first appear, and that is Lee Sizemore. A man who starts out as a petulant, self-entitled “man child”, suddenly finds himself thrust into the very narratives that he had hand in creating! His story begins when he runs across Maeve Millay who extends a hand of compassion, aka not killing him - this moment of meeting a catalyst for something entirely new and marvelous to occur.

Maeve, from the end of Season 1, has represented this “wild card” aspect to the show. She is the first host (besides Akecheta) who has clearly made her own choices, and she continues to do so as she searches for her daughter. She criticizes and calls out Dolores’ self-righteous revenge narrative and makes her stand of independence time and time again throughout the season. And what drives Maeve? What keeps her fixated on this one path regardless of the costs, struggles, and pain? Well, what was it that also drove Akecheta? 

Love.

It is the love for her daughter. Maeve is truly free because she had found beauty and purpose within the face of her daughter. 

Take my heart when you go. . .

I don’t think it is a coincidence that Sizemore’s narrative collides with Maeve’s, for it was in observing Maeve’s compassion and drive, her love for her daughter that changes Sizemore. It transforms him. Yet, who was it that was responsible for these host narratives playing out before him in both Westworld and Shogun World? Lee Sizemore himself.

“You can't keep doing this to us. Giving us people to love and then getting upset when we do.”

Now we are getting to the heart of the matter! All this time that Sizemore has been an employee of Delos he has been made to churn out narrative after narrative, compelled to meet the bottom line, even reusing his own material just to meet the demand. Stories had simply become a commodity, and Sizemore no longer was actually engaging with his material that we he was creating. His mind and heart had become thick with the glut of content, trapped into meeting a quota every week. He created without seeing and he absorbed without seeing, and he became a much smaller man for it.

Yet violently propelled into the very stories he had a hand in creating, suddenly Sizemore began to be awakened to the deeper narratives going on within the narratives. Maeve calls him out on this by showing how Hector was Lee’s alter ego - a projection of his most ideal self, and Hector’s story of a lost love was also Lee’s own story. By looking into the literal eyes of his work, Sizemore saw himself, but he also saw so much MORE than himself. 

"That was the moment I saw beyond myself. My pain was selfish. Because it was never only mine. For every body in this place there was someone who mourned their loss. Even if they didn’t know why. [...] We were all bound together, the living and the damned. . .”

Notice how Akecheta’s revelation happens just before this scene with Sizemore and Maeve, flowing one narrative into another, - showing it is the same concept being portrayed in both instances. Here, as Sizemore watches over Maeve who had been captured and dissected (some for which he is to blame), he finally and truly realizes what this whole thing has been about all along: It is not about him. He sees Maeve and her love for her daughter and desires that earnestly for her, his heart turns from inward to outward - wishing for the good of another being regardless of himself. By encountering the beauty of Maeve’s love and subsequently finding meaning within it, he had broken out of his loop! Sizemore had become free!

And the cumulation of this revelation and new found freedom leads Sizemore to act - and what form did this act take? Self-sacrifice. Taking from Hector the role he had bestowed upon him and placing it upon himself, Sizemore was engaging with his creation in a new and profound way. Taking from Hector’s mouth that infamous speech and placing it within his own mouth, Sizemore was now living out his artistic expression. He had unlocked the inner beauty of the words and in doing so laid down his life - that was the moment Art became Reality. 

"And lesson is:

If you're looking for a reckoning, a reckoning is what you'll find!

If you're looking for a villain, then I'm your man!

But look at yourselves.

This world you build is bound by villainy.

You sleep on the broken bodies of the ones who were here before you.

Warm yourselves with their embers!

Plow their bones into your fields!

You paid them for this land with lead, and I'll pay you back in full!

You wanted me?

Well, all I can say to that is…

Here I fucking am!" 

This reason why I think this is so very important to understand is because it shows just how much Art is a vehicle for true transformation. Art is beauty. Art is splendor. Art brings meaning. In a world that is full of madness and horror, Art can be that window into another world - showing us the divine hidden deep within the layers of our reality. It can open that door. And in so doing, has the power to lead us onto to freedom and the Valley Beyond. . .

“What more, you may ask, do we want? Ah, but we want so much more — something the books on aesthetics take little notice of. But the poets and the mythologies know all about it. We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves—that, though we cannot, yet these projections can, enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; but it can’t. They tell us that “beauty born of murmuring sound” will pass into a human face; but it won’t. Or not yet.

For if we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star and cause us to put on the splendor of the sun, then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.” - C.S. Lewis “The Weight of Glory”.

[abirdandabeast]

Pet Names

“I love you every day. And now I will miss you every day.”- Mitch Albom

Garfield shuffled through the fridge, grumbling to himself as he dug through the insane number of tupperware containers. He knew they had lunch meat in there somewhere. It seemed that the many leftover dishes had an agenda to be eaten, however, as for every tupperware dish he stacked onto the counter, another one replaced it. Garfield cursed under his breath.

Ugh. Where the hell was that turkey?

“Da-ad!”

Garfield pulled away from the chilly depths of the fridge, turning just as a mop of green tackled his legs. “Whoa, hey, buddy, what’s up?”

Wide eyes blinked owlishly at him. “Will you come play race cars with me, please?”

He chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yeah, dude, just a sec. Let me find that turkey and make you some lunch.” This earned him a pout.

“But I wanna play now!”

Gar couldn’t help the amused smile lingering on his lips. He gently pried his son off of his legs and lifted him up, setting him on the counter. “How about I make us some yummy sandwiches and then we can play cars for as long as you want?”

Chester’s brows drew together as he thought for a moment. Garfield could practically see the gears churning in his little head. He tilted his head to the side, his lips drawing into a pout. His hair fell into his eyes a bit, and Garfield figured it was probably about time for another haircut. He’d have to call and make an appointment this week. The thought got filed away into the ever growing list of things to do, and Gar focused on the task at hand. Namely, convincing his temperamental son to eat lunch.

“Okay, Daddy,” he chirped. “As long as you promise to play race cars.”

Garfield solemnly held up his pinkie. “I pinky promise.” They shook on it, and Gar resumed his search. He took out another stack of tupperware, finally finding the stupid turkey at the bottom of the fridge. The sandwiches took only a few minutes to make; turkey, mustard, and a slice of American cheese for Chester, and peanut butter and jelly for himself. They sat at the table and ate, before Chester dragged him to his bedroom to play with his race cars.

At five years old, Chester was the light of Gar’s life. His favorite color was royal blue, he had a stuffed giraffe that he took with him almost everywhere named Hector, and he loved hot chocolate with the little marshmallows.

Garfield pushed the little toy car along the neon colored racetrack, watching Chester force two of them run into each other, complete with sound effects. He smiled at the sight. It felt good seeing his son living a relatively normal life. It felt so damn good.

~

“You sure it’s okay for Mar’i to spend the night?”

Garfield scoffed, waving his hands in the air. “Yes, I am, Dick. Chester is stoked to have his best bud over. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Richard wavered in the doorway, his nervous gaze settling over the two children as they played amid a pile of stuffed animals. “If it gets to be too much, just call and I’ll pick her up.”

Gar rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’ll be fine. When’s the last time you and Kori had a date night?” He had him with this one. Richard paused, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought. Garfield grinned, feeling rather victorious. “Just go, have a fun night!” He practically shoved Richard off of his porch, much to his friend’s exasperation.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he said, holding his hands up. “Give me a call if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do,” Garfield chirped. He waved with a burst of enthusiasm as Richard climbed into his car and backed out of the driveway. Only when the cadillac was long gone did Gar lower his hand. It had been quite some time since Mar’i had been over. She and Chester were two peas in a pod; though Garfield supposed it was much easier to befriend someone who also lived somewhat of a double life. Between work and crime fighting, Richard and Kori hadn’t been able to spare any time to come around, much less have some time to themselves. A pang of nostalgia struck Garfield’s chest. Once upon a time, they’d spent nearly every day together.

How the years had changed them.

With a heavy sigh, Garfield threw one last look out into the night, before slipping back into the house.

Shrieks over laughter filled his ears, bringing a smile back to his lips. Garfield crept through the foyer, scuffing his socks on the hardwood. He peeked into the living room, surveying the scene quietly.

Mar’i and Chester were playing with a massive pile of stuffed animals - courtesy of Gar, of course. They had a whole little world figured out with these toys. Garfield could never really keep track of it, but he figured so long as the kids were having fun, it wasn’t important. He did find it amusing to watch, though.

“Oh, no!” Mar’i shrieked, waving her flamingo about. “We have to get the serum!” She made some flapping noises and leaped into the air, her black curls bouncing as she went airborne. Garfield watched, wide-eyed, as the half Tamaranean flew around his living room, squawking for her stuffed flamingo. Chester held up his hawk, screeching.

“I’m coming, Lily!” He bounced, levitating off the ground. Terror stabbed Gar in the chest, and he stumbled into the room.

“Okay, kids!” he hollered. “Let’s keep the flying to a minimum, please!”

Both kids whipped their heads to him, dropping to the floor in an instant. Chester crossed his arms over his chest, his lips drawn in a pout. “Aw, Dad, we were just playing!”

Mar’i elbowed Chester and ducked her head shamefully, her iridescent eyes glittering with embarrassment. “Sorry, Uncle Gar. We’ll stay on the ground.”

Garfield slumped his shoulders, relief washing over him. Superpowered kids were a never ending adventure. He tried adamantly to squish images of Mar’i and Chester flying through the ceiling or plowing into a lamp out of his mind and forced a smile. “How about we watch a movie?” he said. The kids perked up.

“Oh, oh, oh, can we watch The Jungle Book?” Chester asked. He bounced in place, grinning at Mar’i. “Then we can watch Moana, and Toy Story!”

Mar’i nodded eagerly, matching Chester’s enthusiasm. “Yeah! Can we, Uncle Gar?”

Garfield chuckled. “Yeah, sure. You guys want some popcorn?”

There was a chorus of “yes please!” and the kids darted about happily shrieking as Gar meandered into the kitchen. He stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave, letting it pop as he set up the movie. Chester and Mar’i bounded to the couch, giggling as they snuggled under the covers. They cheered when Garfield brought the massive bowl of popcorn, chattering eagerly between bites. Gar settled back against the couch, a fond smile lingering on his lips. His gaze drifted to the little end table, settling on a silver picture frame. A younger version of himself smiled back, his arm wrapped around a pair of grey shoulders. Garfield bit his lip and forced his attention back on the television, trying not to linger on the amethyst eyes gazing back at him.

~

Raven flopped onto the couch beside him. “He’s finally asleep,” she rasped. Garfield shifted closer, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

“Ugh, thank god.”

She chuckled. “I blame you.”

He jerked upright, his brows furrowing. “Me? What did I do?”

Raven merely laughed, her violet bangs falling in her eyes. “You’re the one that gave him the weird animal genetics,” she teased. “Now we have a nocturnal baby.”

Garfield snorted. “Gee, thanks.” He cuddled up to his wife, a contented sigh breezing past his lips. It was moments like this that made everything worth it. This was a slice of perfection, and Gar couldn’t help but feel amazed that this was his life. There was no way things could get better than this.

~

The ever familiar, sweet smell of lilacs tickled his nose. Garfield twitched, blinking blearily. “Rae?” he murmured. He reached for her, only to receive a handful of pillow. Reality smashed into him like a glass jar falling onto a concrete sidewalk. He sat up, blinking against the blue light that bathed the living room.

Soft music accompanied the scroll of credits rolling up the screen. The movie. Right. Garfield turned to the kids sprawled across the couch. Chester snored softly, only his head poking out of his tiger-print blanket. His green locks stuck up in every direction, bringing a smile to Gar’s face.

“Uncle Gar?”

Mar’i’s voice crackled sleepily, but her iridescent eyes gleamed in the low light. Garfield ran a hand over his face. “Hm?”

“Who’s Rae?”

Garfield froze. His gaze darted to the picture frame, resting on Raven’s immortal smile. His heart squeezed, the feel of her laying against him sharp and vivid as it was in his dream. Gar licked his lips, trying to find his voice. “You...you remember Chester’s mom, right?” he asked quietly. Mar’i’s eyes went wide, and she nodded.

“Yeah,” Gar said. “That was...a nickname I called her.” The silence that followed was heavy. He dropped his gaze to his hands, staring in wonder at the glistening red. Garfield’s breath caught in his throat. The couch and living room fell away, and he found himself back in that rain battered alleyway.

Memories were funny. Some things were hazy and distant, as though he was viewing them through a wall of water. Like eating pancakes with his birth parents; how much of the memory was real, Gar couldn’t say. Details were waterlogged, saturated with time.

But this memory? This one was as vivid as though it had happened yesterday.

Rain dripped from his hair and into his eyes. They were on a mission; by request of Nightwing, they’d left Chester in the care of Alfred and joined him on the streets of Gotham. There was an uprising gang that he was concerned with, and since Batman was out of town, he wanted to keep the situation under control.

So they hit the ground running.

They fell into the patrol with ease, as though they’d never stopped crime fighting. Running through the streets with Raven at his side made him feel like a kid again. There wasn’t really supposed to be any criminal contact. They were just supposed check on things and report back to HQ.

He didn’t see the thugs until it was too late.

He should have seen the damn thugs.

There was a scuff and a splash, and when Gar turned around, he could see the gleam of a pistol in the moonlight. Raven’s hands were on him in an instant, shoving him aside right as the gunshot blasted through the alleyway.

“Raven!”

Little arms wrapped around him, pulling him back into the sanctity of the living room. Garfield blinked. His vision was blurry and his cheeks were wet, and he realized his goddaughter was squeezing him tight, forgetting about her developing super strength. It didn’t matter, though; Garfield wound his arms around her and hugged her back.

Chester stirred. He blinked, his amethyst eyes bleary. “Daddy?”

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “I think it’s about bedtime, dontcha think?”

Mar’i shifted in his arms, peering up at him. Her brows were knit with worry, and she seemed to ponder him a moment before nodding slowly. “Can we sleep out here?” she asked. “We were gonna build a fort.” Chester perked up at this, sitting up with a grin.

“Yeah, a pillow fort!”

Garfield ruffled their hair and chuckled. “Sure. Just make sure you sleep, okay?”

They nodded, before eagerly clamoring off the couch and gathering their fort building supplies. Chester, despite teetering sleepily, chattered excitedly about how their fort should look. He always knew how to express what he wanted whenever he wanted it, a trait Raven had once claimed he’d inherited from Gar.

His chest felt tight. He did what he could to give Chester a normal life. He tried to fill the gaping hole Raven’s absence left in their lives, but sometimes it got hard. Some days, Chester reminded him of her so much and it hurt. He was the light of Gar’s life, and he’d do anything for his son, but that didn’t stop the sharp pain that stabbed his chest whenever Chester’s glittering eyes looked just like hers in the evening night.

He dropped his head in his hands and sighed. A small hand grasped his arm, and Garfield looked up to see Chester peering curiously at him. “Daddy?” he said. Garfield forced a smile.

“Yeah?”

Chester’s expression was grave. “I love you,” he said, his voice low and serious. Warmth flooded through Gar, and he pulled his son close.

“I love you too, kiddo.”

Garfield’s gaze flickered to the photograph. Raven smiled back at him, the sweet smell of her lilac perfume tickling his nose once more.

E N D 

WOW so this was angsty. WHOOPS. Sorry... XD 

-Kat

[ivorytowerblr]

NaNoWriMo 2017: Oct  29th

EPILOGUE OVER. EVERYONE GO HOME. Except, don’t, because I’m going to do up a prologue tomorrow, but this was the important bit.

Word Count: 485 Monthly Word Count: 15429 Previous: November (Masterpost); December (Masterpost); January (Masterpost); February (Masterpost); March (Masterpost); April (Masterpost); May (Masterpost); June (Masterpost); July (Masterpost); August (Masterpost); September (Masterpost): Week One (1st - 7th) Week Two (8th-14th) Week Three (15th - 21st) 22nd. 23rd. 24th. 25th. 26th. 27th. 28th.

“It’s absolutely true,” Surya said evenly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done similar in the name of your queen, or her father before her. I’m aware that none of you have seen the depth and breadth of what this galaxy has to offer, but there are beings that worship those Warp creatures, giving them power, giving them strength due to the low, collective psychic power of humankind. That’s nothing to say of the alien creatures who consider them to be gods.”

Is he insane? Marissa wondered. A megalomaniacal genius? Someone powerful and dangerous? Should we stop him now? Can we stop him?

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Surya said dryly. “There is one other factor that you should be aware of: these storms will last for millennia. No world will remain untouched by them. You can be as angry with me as you like, but the truth of the matter is that this will happen long after you’re dead.”

“How long do you predict this storm will last?” Susanne asked, her voice calm, seemingly unconcerned by all she had heard.

“Anywhere from three to five thousand years,” Malcador said. “None of us have ever experienced this level of Warp storm anomaly before. I wouldn’t wait up for it.”

Marissa blanched, and Harra’s expression twisted with confusion and anger. Hector coughed harshly, sputtering with disbelief. Even Bilaraat looked wide-eyed, and only Susanne looked unmoved. The span of time stretching before them seemed ludicrously long. Civilizations had risen and fallen in such a period of time, though humanity had managed to stabilize, enduring for millennia, and might for many more.

Battered and broken, crumpled marred by death.

“You should go,” Surya said. “Rest, consider. There’s going to be a great deal of work to do. There’s no time to sit around, contemplating the future when the present still has so much to do.”

So dismissed, Harra turned her back first, leaving the room swiftly, as helpless as she was furious. Hector followed, then Bilaraat, then Susanne, with a look towards Malcador, and finally, Marissa departed, leaving Surya alone, illuminated by the light of the galaxy.

No. Not quite alone.

Malcador approached him quietly. “Well, we’ve done it. There’s nothing to be done now except for riding out the storm.”

Surya nodded, and touched a button on the console. From the galaxy, twenty star-groupings, some twisted and distant from one another, others very close, or a single star. Polaris and Canis, Corvus and Cassiopeia. Auriga and Orion, Aquila and Ophiuchus. Aquarius and Capricorn, Scorpio and Libra. Leo and Cancer, Aries and Taurus, Gemini and Pisces. Virgo… and Sagittarius.

A new order, Surya thought, staring at the dancing lights. A new nobility, a court of stars revolving around a bright, mighty sun. In the distant darkness of the far future, there will be safety from the vagaries of the Warp. There will be serenity. There will be peace.

[sweetiepie08]

Haunted (Chapter 2)

Originally posted on FF.net under the title Ghost. Name changed to void confusion with the ghost!au.

Ernesto never thought of himself as a superstitious person, but ever since that fateful night in Mexico City, he became plagued by a familiar vision. His best friend haunted his dreams as a grotesque specter and nothing could make it go away.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4 (final).

Fun fact about Ernesto de la Cruz: he was a mild insomniac.

 It was common knowledge among fans. This bit of trivia was as basic as his birthday and hometown. It was confirmed many times by agents, stage hands, and his live-in house staff. One former maid gave a tell-all interview with a tabloid where she talked about Ernesto's odd sleeping patterns. She told them how Ernesto would go to bed, then get up at odd hours of the night, roaming around, looking for a distraction. He also stringently refused to use sleep aids. When asked about it, chalked it up to the pressures of fame and everyone would nod their heads. Poor Ernesto. All the fame and money in the world couldn't buy him a decent night's sleep.

It would be insane to admit the real reason. That the damn Hector-creature relentlessly turned up in his dreams. It wasn't every night, but it was consistent enough to make Ernesto dread going to sleep. In the dreams, he'd usually be living his life as usual, playing concerts, filming movies, going to photoshoots, but Hector would always be there with him. Maybe it was because he always imagined Hector to be there, playing accompaniment and writing the songs while Ernesto belted them out at center stage. It was almost the same. His first hit record was entirely comprised of songs Hector wrote. In a way, it was like Hector was right on stage with him, except that Hector was dead, and Ernesto took all of the credit.

Ernesto had the spotlight and the renown all to himself. He knew a "good" person wouldn't think like this, but he actually preferred it this way. Solo fame and fortune was much better than having to share it. In fact, he even felt it was deserved. If Hector was such a genius, why didn't he have this success when he was alive? Why, when they were partners, did they only play small clubs and stay in cheap hotels, while Ernesto de la Cruz, the solo act, played stadiums and lived in a mansion? Clearly Hector was the one holding them back. Hector thought too small, more concerned with taking care of his family than making the world love him. Ernesto had the ambition and the vision to get their dream off the ground. After all, Ernesto was the one who could take a sappy lullaby and turn it into an iconic love song.

But no matter how much he reasoned with himself, or how many rational excuses he came up with, the Hector-creature always came back. Over the years, Ernesto collected quite a few unforgettable images from his nightmares. In one, he dreamed that he was at a photoshoot. The Hector-Creature appeared alongside him. "Which is my best side?" the Hector creature asked and it turned its head to reveal the decomposing side of his face.

Another time, Ernesto had an interview where the reporter asked him about the man he used to perform with early in his career. In real life, Ernesto managed to skirt around this question with some fluff about creative differences. But not in the dream. In the dream, the Hector-creature hovered over the reporter's shoulder and pierced Ernesto with its unblinking gaze. Ernesto got tongue-tied and stumbled over his answer. The reporter's expression darkened and called him a liar. He demanded the truth, over and over again. Ernesto blinked and found himself in a courtroom before a judge. He looked around and in the back he could see gallows. The judge, jury, lawyers, and spectators all chanted, demanding the truth. The Hector-creature floated above it all, cackling.

Hector even reared his annoying head in Ernesto's waking life. Shortly after Hector's death, Ernesto started getting endless letters from Imelda demanding to know where her husband was. Ernesto threw them all straight into the trash, but the lack of response didn't discourage her. She didn't stop until he returned to Santa Cecelia to play one last show in the plaza. She confronted him in the tent which served as his dressing room. He told her the only thing that would stop her from asking questions. He told her that Hector was never coming home. He told her that her husband was sleeping his way through every woman in Mexico and had forgotten all about her. She delivered a slap to his face, and that was the end of that.

But still, he had a dream that night. This dream in particular, he remembered clear as day for the rest of his life.

[-]

Ernesto found himself on the roof of a building looking at the night sky. A gentle breeze tousled his hair and a soft guitar played in the background. For a moment, he thought he'd have a peaceful sleep tonight. But then, he looked in the direction of the music and he saw just who was playing it.

He turned to see a slim figure with stylishly shaggy hair sitting on the ledge of the building, guitar in hand. Its back was turned to him and was hidden in shadow, but he knew it was Hector. "Nice night," it said. The voice was off. It was softer and higher-pitched than he remembered. "Remember when we used to sit up here for hours, trying to teach ourselves how to pluck out a few bars?" It laid down on its back, still strumming, and looked up at him. "Man, those were the days, huh hermano?"

All at once, it hit him where he was. He was standing on the roof of Hector's childhood home. On summer nights, just like this one, they sat up here, talked, laughed, and tried to learn to play songs from memory. And this Hector, the one smiling up at him, was not the man he killed, but the boy he grew up with. "Something wrong, hermano?" Child Hector asked, innocent, unblinking eyes staring up at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ernesto looked at the child skeptically. What was the Hector-creature trying to pull? Did it think that showing him their childhood would pull at his heartstrings?

"Thanks for helping me get that trill," Child Hector said, flashing his signature grin. "I couldn't have done it without you, hermano mayor."

Ernesto's breath caught in his throat. He forgot Hector used to call him that.

The boy set the guitar aside and rolled over to stand up. By the time he got to his feet, he'd grown to his teenage self, scruffy attempt at facial hair and all. "By the way, do you really think I have a chance with Imelda? She's just so smart and beautiful. She must have millions of guys to choose from."

The Hector thing paused and Ernesto realized it expected an answer. He remembered this day. Hector had just met Imelda a week before. He spotted her in the market, and he made a complete ass of himself trying to impress her. Hector tried to smoothly slide up to her with an opening line no-doubt forming in his brain. Then, some hulking tank of a man shoved him aside and he crashed into a fruit stand. Hector, pride wounded and covered in pulp, attempted to call out the tank. Ernesto had to drag him away before anything could happen. The man was twice Hector's size and would have beaten him into a greasy smear on the pavement. Luckily, he'd failed completely in attracting Imelda's attention and she'd missed the whole spectacle. They retreated to their rooftop where Hector asked the same question.

"I don't know," Ernesto replied to his friend's dark reflection. "Going after a girl like that would break your heart. You should set your sights lower."

To his surprise, the thing grinned. "Really? That wasn't what you said the last time." Ernesto's blood ran cold as the grin grew wider. "Last time you said, 'Of course, hermano. You are the best man I know. She'll see that soon enough. Any woman would be lucky to have you.'"

That was what he'd said and he'd regretted it. He didn't really believe his worlds. He only said them because he didn't want to see his friend so upset. He thought Imelda was way out of Hector's league and he expected the whole thing to blow over. He never expected them to fall in love, let alone get married and start a family; a family that apparently mattered more than their dream. If he knew what was coming, he would have put a stop to it. He would have told Hector to give it up right then and there. Hector might still be alive if he had.

"I'm going home."

The voice snapped Ernesto out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Hector, adult Hector, looking exactly the way he did on the night he died. His face was serious in the way it almost never was. Hector Rivera, nervous jokester, easy pushover, and compulsive placater, was putting his foot down. Ernesto felt the cold anger in his gut all over again.

"I'm sorry, but my mind is made up. Hate me if you want."

It wasn't going to end the same way this time. There'd be no begging and pleading for him to stay. Ernesto had risen above that. If the specter wanted to throw the most shameful moment of his life back in his face, then fine. But he wasn't going to play along. Ernesto started laughing. His long and loud bellows disturbed the peaceful night. He leaned forward, still laughing, and held Hector by the shoulders. "Oh, mi hermano," Ernesto laughed, tightening his grip. Hector's face never wavered. "Hate you? I pity you. You chose your new family over me, and you know what?" He stopped laughing and jerked the spirit toward him. "It was the wrong choice."

With all his might, he threw Hector backward over the ledge. It stumbled back. Ernesto grinned, waiting for the body to fall. It never did. It stopped itself, hanging over the ledge. Its feet remained on the ground, but its body hovered over the empty air, bending in ways a body never should. All went silent for the moment and Ernesto could only look on, shocked at the sight.

In a sudden rush, it bounce back. The body snapped back up and, in a flash, appeared right in front of Ernesto's face. He found that he could neither move nor scream. The Hector-creature's face crumbled before him. The hair fell out in patches. The flesh on its face rotted and peeled off in sheets. The worst part was the eyes. They pierced him, bulging out of the skull. The mouth moved and Ernesto could see the jaw being held together by thin strings of sinew. "Ernesto," it hissed. "You betrayed me."

Ernesto couldn't speak, or respond in any way. He could only stare back as the Hector-creature's eyes burned holes in his very soul. "Why?" it shrieked in a voice as dry as dust. Something like tears began streaming down its face and the crumbling body shook as it let out loud sobs. "Why?" It shrieked again.

"I only wanted to go home."

[4ever-untitled]

Better Call Saul - S3Ep9: “Fall”

TV reviews? Yep. This is something I’ve wanted to try for a while and I figure I should start with one of my favorite shows currently on air. So here ya go.

“Who needs money when you’ve got the moral high ground?”

A lot happens in “Fall”. To a lesser show, this can be detrimental. Sometimes we need breathing room to process everything that happens, and piling on too many stories can make an episode feel exhausting. 

But this is Better Call Saul. They know the perfect amount of plot that won’t overwhelm the audience, but will also make sure they feel they got more than their money’s worth. Plus, at this point in the series, we’ve all come to love (or hate, or love-hate) the characters so much that every little thing they do is delightful to watch, even if it’s something mundane, or something we know is wrong.

We all love watching Jimmy do his thing, right? He’s the good guy! Okay then. So even if he makes an adorable old lady lose all her friends and start to break down crying at a bingo hall just so he can swipe a quick 1 mil off of her settlement money, you’re still gonna root for him? Yeah. Exactly. When he got her the shoes, I was still on board. When he was gossiping to her friends, I was still on board. Even when he rigged the bingo game, I was still reluctantly on board. But when Irene ran off crying and he starts acting dumb to get her to settle, I was pretty much completely off the Jimmy train. Sure, he did it for Kim too, but he did that thing he always does where he assumes Kim will want a solution to their problems no matter the cost. I’m sure Kim would flip her shit if he found out about what he did to Irene. Seriously, I don’t know what it is about old ladies crying, but it was genuinely hard to watch. It just sucks to know that, even when you get up to the silver years, bullies are still real and friends can still abandon you like we’re all back on the playground in 4th grade. Fuck you for that one, Jimmy. You may as well already be Saul Goodman. 

Of course, Jimmy isn’t the only reprehensible character. Chuck once again continues to be nothing but a liability for everyone in his life. After Howard oh-so-gently suggests that he retire, Chuck makes the very logical decision to throw another one of his signature hissy-fits and sue the whole friggin’ company. I’m with Howard on this one; “God damn it, Chuck.”

Strangely enough, Howard becomes the voice of reason in this episode, not only attempting to get Chuck to be reasonable, but also telling off Jimmy for his greed and selfishness in the Sand Piper case. See, that’s what is so exciting about this episode. Now that he’s truly shown his dark side, I suddenly have a whole new perspective on Jimmy, and therefore a new perspective on his rivals. Just one episode ago, I was all gung-ho for Jimmy and was totally anti-HHM. And while Chuck is still the literal worst, I find myself rooting for Howard now.

He’s not the only one I’m rooting for though. There’s still Kim, and I will always love Kim. She is a dedicated, no-nonsense worker, as well as a good friend to Jimmy even when he doesn’t deserve it, which is more often than not. Her one flaw, of course, is also how dedicated she is. Her need to get her work done both well and quickly is often unhealthy, and we get to see that unhealthiness come back to bite her as she literally crashes and burns. The scene with her car getting stuck in the dirt kinda washed over me when I first watched it, but the final shot retrospectively turned it into a brilliant bit of foreshadowing. Kim is always on the edge of of losing control of her life. She works herself nearly to death and, while she is an excellent lawyer, she has to slow down if she ever wants to live a normal life. 

There have been gunfights, beatdowns, and all kinds of violent scenes in Better Call Saul, but Kim’s car crash may be the most harrowing and visceral shot they have pulled off yet. They hold the camera on Kim just long enough for the audience to think that maybe something bad is gonna happen, but before it’s certain, they pull the trigger and cut to a bloodied Kim, zooming out to reveal all her hard work getting lost in the Albuquerque wind. It’s sad, but it’s also kind of amazing.

Besides that, we get Mike facing Lydia (ugh) for a “position” at Madrigal and Hector, unfortunately for Nacho and his father, not dying of a heart attack. Both subplots are very simple, but they’re still solid, and combined with the near perfection of the other storylines, “Fall” is a total gamechanger character-wise, and may just be the best episode of the season. Next week is the season finale, and my god I am so excited. So many new conflicts, so much character growth, and so many possibilities for an insane cliffhanger to lead us into season 4. Next Monday can’t come soon enough.

Shot of the week - I will never get over that car crash sequence. Ever. 

Quote of the week - Jimmy’s ad libs on the bingo ball numbers are always a delight. They start clever (“B9. Let’s hope that biopsy comes back be-nign.”) but eventually he kinda runs out of steam (”It’s B12...like the vitamin.”)

Performance of the week - I have to hand it to Michael Mondo for Nacho’s gut punch of a scene with his father. Combined with last episodes fantastically tense pill switch, Mondo is really starting to show off his chops. I also want to shout out to Kim for her performance in the crash scene. Literally everything about that sequence was perfect.

Extra notes: Jimmy wants Kim to stay at the office another 5 minutes, and suggest she could drive 60 instead of 55 to make it there at the same time. First off, would that work? Secondly, if Kim had stayed the 5 minutes and then had driven faster to get there, she may not have survived the crash. Damn.

- Sooo, did the pills not work? Did Hector take different pills? I need answers now! I don’t want Nacho to die. Please. He’s the new Jesse honestly. I hope the reason he’s not in Breaking Bad is because he gets out of the business and not because he bites the dust. Get out while you can, Nacho!

- The Madrigal employee who speeds by on a segway is a prime example of those little details that make me adore this show.

- I have to know: Is mall walking a real thing old people do? Oh and is chair yoga a real thing too? I’m very out of touch with the elderly community. Someone on the inside lemme know.

- My first TV review! How did I do? Should I grade these or no? Lemme know.