#for its similarities. for being close to him. for not Being Carmen enough. for being a bastardization of what once was. holding

[cent-scratchnsniff]

doodles and stuff. struggled with painting until i gave up

[arty-chase]

Con Man's Daughter

Posting this because there isn't enough biodad! John Constantine content.

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

-----

I feel like this should be a Damianette story or just platonic relationship after Jon got aged-up to seventeen and Damian wanted a friend his age but doesn’t want to admit it.

So basically there is this big bad in Gotham using magic that Batman was fighting at the time and enlisted John Constantine to help out.

John realizes that the villain is using a Miraculous.

“Oh. I think I know how he gets his powers. And lucky for you, Bats, I know an expert on this special brand of magic.”

And he did the smart thing and called up Marinette who at the time was already Guardian and was looking for other lost Miraculouses like in the Treasure Hunter AU I wrote.

He calls her at a really bad time. She was in the process of being chased by the guardians of the place. Monsters and evil spirits.

“Hello, Dad. What do you need and can you do it quickly?”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. How is my little cupcake up to these days?”

“You called at a bad time.” Gunshots.

“WAS THAT A GUN I HEARD? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOUNG LADY?!”

“Somewhere in Japan. Getting a Miraculous. And why can’t you call me to check in on me and not ask me to help you with whatever mess you got yourself into.” More gunshots sounds and it was telling that Marinette was using a gun.

“Where did you get a gun? And don’t you have school?”

“It’s summer break. Don’t worry Maman and Papa know. Well, the fact that I am in Japan anyways.” Marinette sounded a little out of breath. Roaring and horrifying sounds at the other end. “Can we do this later?”

“As it happens, there is a villain going around Gotham with what I think is a Miraculous.”

Swears on the other end.

“Oi. Watch your fucking language, young lady.”

“How about a No and move the fuck back, old man. I am coming over right now.”

“Old man? I am not that old-” as a magic blue portal opens up in the Bat Cave.

And a red Chinese dragon comes out with someone riding it.

Its rider was a black-haired girl. She had a trench coat similar to Constantine's. I imagine her with a fedora. Like Carmen Sandiego style but not red. Sometimes red but only when she has to steal it from a museum or high security places and she leaves a name card with the name Carmen Sandiego. A sword strapped to her back and a dagger to her thigh.

She had a gun in her hand which she used to shoot the monsters as it was halfway through the portal and yelled out the spell to close it.

“Brilliant entrance but you are in lots of trouble, little lady. What were you thinking about going to another country unsupervised? And isn’t there still a butterfly problem in Paris?”

“One, I wasn’t unsupervised. I had Tikki, a billion years old being and a sort of god. Two.Well, it got boring trying to track Hawk-bitch down. And I found this legend about a guy with a Miraculous who disappeared in the temple and thought hey, more miraculous could mean another edge to defeating Moth-man.”

More bickering and John grounding Marinette who was acting very nonchalant about it.

Okay, at this point, I should say that Batman and Robin are in the background trying to make some sense.

Batman is surprised to find out that Constantine has a daughter who is also involved in magic like her Father but an apparently more specialised kind called the Miraculous. He is a little miffed that he didn’t know about John having a daughter. He did consider it weird at first that she had a slight french accent unlike her father’s Liverpool accent although she pronounced some words like he does.

He also connected some dots that she is also the Parisian heroine, Lady Rouge who Wonder Woman introduced to the League a while back and had declined to join the Young Justice or Teen Titans until everything in Paris was resolved.

Damian on the other hand was suspicious of the new arrival and came to the same conclusion as his father about the daughter thing.

Batman after a few minutes, clears his throat.

The Constantines stop arguing.

“Bonjour. Batman. Robin. Pleasure to meet you. I am Mari Constantine and yes, I am this homeless looking man’s brilliant daughter.” “Hey”

“Well, Mari. Your father thinks you can help us with this new criminal turning Gotham upside down. Literally in some cases. He said that you might be able to help us.” Batman said as he pulled up zoomed in picture of the Miraculous.

Mari looks through the Miraculous grimoire and tells them all about it and power-ups, basically the most effective thing to defeat the guy is to get the Miraculous off them. Plus a spell that would make the Miraculous ineffective if casted within a certain radius of it.

“Thank you for the information, Mari. Constantine, let’s go.”

Mari made to follow them.

“You young lady are grounded and staying here.”

“I don’t need another supervillain using the Miraculous which are my responsibility as Guardian to retrieve them for their own misuse and wreaking havoc on the city. And what if there is an akuma in Paris? I can’t go there if I am grounded in the Batcave although it is a cool place to hang out.”

“You can portal back to Paris but you are not going to follow me. Understood?”

“yes. crystal”

“Good. After me and Batsy get the Miraculous, you can do your Guardian duties.”

Damian snickers. Until Batman cut his mood short, “You are staying behind too. Robin.”

“But Father, why? I am much more capable than Constantine.”

“Hey!” Both father and daughter.

Damian is staying behind too because of the Miraculous power or other reasons and keeps an eye on Mari.

Damian stays behind and there were some protests about mari mad about having a babysitter and Damian doesn’t want to be a babysitter. Despite the two of them being around the same age.

“I got an eye on you so no funny business.”

“Okay, Dad, I am not going to have sex with Robin.” Mari said with a shit- eating grin. Robin definitely didn’t blush.

“I hate you sometimes.”

“I love you too, Dad. Go save the world. Byee.”

John eyes her suspiciously because she is not one to give up that easily usually.

He casts a spell to watch her as they leave. and which she totally knew about.

“So...I have one question.”

“Tt, ask and don’t bother me anymore.”

“Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Damian looks up, totally caught off guard.

“I am going to take that as a yes.”

Puts sword at her neck. “How did you find out?!”

“Opened up Google Maps and saw that we are under Wayne Manor. Connected the dots. Also I already knew when Dad made a bet with me once to find out Batman’s secret identity but he never did confirm it for me. And can you please not tell your father about this? I don’t feel like being interrogated by the Bat in the future yet.”

“Father must know about this.”

“I saw you looking at Scarlet here. An animal lover then? You can give her some belly rubs. She deserves it after helping me outrun those monsters.”

His silence was brought. To pet a dragon.

One thing after another and he ends up bringing out his pets-Jerry the turkey, Goliath the dragon-bat, Titus- and her introducing him to her other pets like a hellhound, griffin and other mythical creatures who mostly roam free but come to her when she calls for them and also the kwamis, at least the ones who came with her.

After 30 mins have passed, “So Robin how do you feel about disobeying our fathers?”

“I am in.”

“Depends. Are we going after the (villain's name) ?”

“Yes.”

Awesome montage of them getting rid of the spell John casted and flying out of the Batcave on their respective giant flying pets to the villain’s base.

Meanwhile, their fathers are not doing so well and are trapped in a death trap. John can’t say the spell because the villain made him unable to talk.

“At least, the kids are staying put.”

Cut to Damian and Mari jumping off their pets and onto the roof. Taking out the guards posted there and going into the building all sneakily and also taking out the guards that come their way.

They dropped into the room where their fathers and the villain is.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Villain starts an evil monologue about his mastermind plan to which Damian cuts it short by trying to cut him down with his katana. Mari goes to deactivate the death trap.

They are evenly matched with Damian’s training and the Miraculous.

Mari steps in as Damian was about to be killed. Taps on the shoulder of the villain and when he turns around, gives an awesome right hook that knocks him out.

Takes away the Miraculous and curses him. Wiped the dude’s memories of it.

“When I said stay in the Batcave, I meant stay behind at the Batcave. What point of being grounded, don’t you understand?”

“You mean, Oh, Mari, light of my life, my wonderful daughter, thank you for saving my ass. You are the best.’ by that, right?”

-----

Mari and Damian exchanged numbers and email addresses.

As she was about to leave the Batcave, “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne.” and leaves with a wink.

John ‘ungrounds’ her for the look on Batman’s face.

-----

After this, Marinette and Damian become friends who bitch and vent to each other about their alter egos and various villains of their respective cities. (In codes, just in case) They also share updates about their pets and love of drawings.

They have that type of friendship where they trade favors. Mari calls Damian to Paris sometimes to help out with the akuma of the day and Damian sometimes calls her in when Bruce doesn’t let him go investigate a case so he can sneak out by magical means or as back up for when his brothers were too annoying to deal with.

It’s summer break so no missing school.

John and Bruce are aware of their friendship and some of the shenanigans the pair gets into behind their back.

-----

-----

Right. how this all started...

John and Sabine first met when the latter was still in college somewhere in France. John was tracking down a demonic entity which was targeting Sabine for some reason and she was the next target.

John saved her life and exorcised the demon. There was a heat of the moment thing and they had a one-night stand. There were a few more flings and hook-ups after that night.

And nine months later, Marinette Cheryl Cheng-Constantine was born.

When Sabine first found out, she called John to come over and he thought that it was a call for another hook-up and was very surprised to find out that it was not and that he was going to be a father.

They both like each other but do not want to be in a relationship together so they both remained as friends and John agreed after some strong-arming at the very least to meet his daughter before he goes to do his job. And pay for child support. And help Sabine during her pregnancy.

Pregnant Sabine was someone you don’t want to mess with. And John has never met a demon or anyone scarier than her.

He was at first not into meeting his child and there was a self-pity party he threw himself with how the child was going to live a bad life because he was the dad and how he destroyed every good thing in his life.

That’s why he is going to meet the baby once and leave maybe a letter and the occasional birthday present and stay out of their life. Forever.

The day Marinette was born and it took one look into her eyes for the HellBlazer to fall under the spell and all of his plans to stay out of her life to burn away.

At first, he tried. He really tried but he couldn’t do it.

Lasted 4 months before he came back, wanting to place protection spells on her and sigils around the house to keep away the forces of Heaven and Hell and other entities so they won’t use her against him as a bargaining chip.

Sabine calls him to babysit. He could have refused and Sabine would have easily found a babysitter. He moans and whines about how he is a great mage and not a bloody babysitter. Sabine retorts that it is actually called parenting since he is Marinette’s father. He grumbles but in the end, agrees.

The great John Constantine is wrapped around the little girl’s finger.

He was around for some of Marinette’s firsts. Her first word was “John”.

It made him cry. He wasn’t a good man and he doesn’t deserve someone this precious. His daughter doesn’t deserve someone like him as a father but fate made it that way and what can you do about it.

After an exhausting week of doing the usual and coming back from Hell, he saw that Sabine had sent him a video. It was Marinette taking her first steps.

Chas swears that in all the years that he has known John Constantine he has never seen the man look so happy.

------

When Tom came into the picture, John was there to take care of a toddler Marinette while Tom and Sabine went on dates.

Insert John threatening a much bigger Tom while holding a baby Marinette with wide eyes and hugging a teddy bear with the same coat as John’s. (It was something Sabine brought on a whim and to tease John when he came around.)

Tom is supportive and treats Marinette like his own flesh and blood.

John resolved to leave for good now that Tom would be there to be a father figure for Marinette.

That plan fell into the drain the moment he was going to leave for what was supposed to be the last time before Sabine pulled him back and knocked some sense into him.

His face was a big giveaway. Sabine knows that despite his claims of being a terrible father for Marinette, he was a good one and damnit she was going to make sure that Marinette would get to know her actual father.

Tom later made an awkward talk with John about how he was not going to replace John’s role as Marinette’s father.

Marinette was the flower girl at Tom and Sabine’s wedding. John was there too.

During bedtime, John would read her stories and use his magic to make it come to life. Although he would feel a little drained afterwards, it was worth it to see her smile.

Sometimes he told stories about his tamer adventures. (After cutting out some of the inappropriate bits)

------

When Marinette was about 5 or 6, Sabine was out on an errand and Tom was at home with Mari and helping her with her homework. There was a crash downstairs at the bakery. Tom went down to check it out to find John lying on the ground.

With a weak cough, he said, “Close the door. Close it.” Before losing consciousness

Tom did before a man with pitch black eyes slammed against it.

Thankfully John had installed heavy wards around the bakery when it first opened.

They held against the demon on John’s tail. Tom brought John inside and unsure of what to do, grabbed a rolling pin on the counter.

The man outside started pounding on the glass door and every time his hands touched the door, light glowed outwards, showing the invisible magic barrier around the bakery. Sparks and steams fizzled with every pound.

Despite the reddening and burns of his hands, the not-human didn’t slow down.

“ʝօɦռ....ʏօʊ ӄռօա ȶɦǟȶ ɨȶ'ֆ օռʟʏ ǟ ʍǟȶȶɛʀ օʄ ȶɨʍɛ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ɨ ɮʀɛǟӄ ȶɦʀօʊɢɦ ȶɦɛֆɛ աǟʀɖֆ. օռƈɛ ɨ ɢɛȶ ʏօʊ,” He laughs, the sound sends chills down the large man’s spine, “ȶɦɛʀɛ ǟʀɛ ֆօ ʍǟռʏ ȶɦɨռɢֆ ɨ ɦǟʋɛ քʟǟռռɛɖ ʄօʀ ʏօʊ.”

Tom knew that Marinette’s father was a con man. Come on, Master and Practitioner of the Dark Arts and Occult. But he was a good father nonetheless despite all his flaws and Sabine liked him enough so that was good enough for him.

Before today, magic was just the sleight of hands and use of fancy tools to sell the illusions. Now, with a could-be-a-demon knocking on his door to get to the father of the girl he sees as his daughter, he’s not so sure.

“Tom? Qu'est-ce qui se passe? (What’s going on?)” A little voice came from the stairs, “Dad!” Marinette padded across the floor to the body of her passed out father.

She shook him awake and there were a few soft slaps to the face.

“Dad, what’s happened?”

John mumbles, “Demon…. possessing some rich guy….. Exorcism…. Doesn’t like me very much…Don’t worry...wards going to hold.”

John manages to stand before falling down and Tom catches him before he hits the floor. He has a concussion. Tom turns to Marinette, “Go, Hide and don’t come out until It’s safe.” which she did

Unfortunately, a while later, Sabine returns from her night out and the demon upon seeing Sabine. “ɛӼƈɛʟʟɛռȶ..”

The demon possessed Sabine and the previously possessed dude hit the sidewalk with a thud.

“ɨռȶɛʀɛֆȶɨռɢ....” The voice coming out of Sabine didn’t sound like her mother which scared Marinette a lot. “օքɛռ ȶɦɨֆ ɖօօʀ օʀ,”the demon pulled a knife out of thin air, ,“ȶɦɨֆ ɮօɖʏ ɢɛȶֆ ɨȶ.”

Tom hesitated until the demon put the knife on Sabine’s neck and put enough force for a thin line of blood to be shown.

He opens the door and the demon knocks him out. Stepping over his unconscious body and looking down on it, “ʄօʀ ȶɦǟȶ, ɨ ǟʍ ɢօɨռɢ ȶօ ʟɛȶ ʏօʊ ʟɨʋɛ ʊռȶɨʟ ɨ ǟʍ ɖօռɛ աɨȶɦ ʝօɦռ, օʄ ƈօʊʀֆɛ.” and cackles. The sound was so wrong and unnerving and little Marinette tried very hard for her sobs not to be heard.

Too bad the demon had super hearing. “Come out, my little blossom. Maman is home. Why don’t you come out and give me a hug?”

It sounded so much like her mother and she nearly believed that it was her mother and not some entity in control of her body.

But she knew better from John’s stories of dealing with demons and how they would use the voice of loved ones to lure them out and into a trap. (Definitely not something one should tell as a bedtime story but Marinette was very different and had an unconventional childhood with John Constantine as her father.)

Wait...she got struck with an idea but she wasn’t sure if it would work.

Before she could do anything, the door of the cabinet she was hiding in was opened and she was dragged out.

The demon lifted her a few feet above the ground by the collar of her dress.

It heard Marinette saying something. “աɦǟȶ ǟʀɛ ʏօʊ ֆǟʏɨռɢ ƈɦɨʟɖ, ֆքɛǟӄ ʟօʊɖɛʀ?”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Marinette was now screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She repeated the spell over and over again with fierce determination.

John, being his paranoid self, taught her the spell for an exorcism, just in case. Demons spared no one, not even a girl.

It screamed “NO….” as Sabine’s body contorted in strange angles before a dark shadow seemed to be dragged down into the ground. It made a desperate attempt to possess John before it was pulled away and disappeared. There was no sign that there was a demon attack.

After John woke up, he managed to piece together that his 5-years-old (Sorry 5 and a half) daughter sent a demon back to hell.

He was a very proud dad. (He was a tad worried about the consequences from this event and demons hold one hell of a grudge. He wanted his daughter to live a very safe and happy life. The bakery’s wards also need an upgrade.)

He also got the job of explaining what he actually did to Tom. And lots of reassuring.

Sabine, on one hand, was not happy that Marinette knew how to do magic. That is until John told her that he did it just in case so she can protect herself and later it was agreed that Marinette can learn some Magic spells and charms to better protect herself and when she is older, she can decide if she wants to continue or not.

----

(Part 2)

[seekingseven]

All I would like to request is Legend and Sky hanging out, maybe being friends. Also, love you lots Seeking! Hope you're taking care of yourself and having a good day. It's what you deserve ^u^

Linked Universe Prompt Requests #3!

First of all, I appreciate you so much, Silver! And second, here you go!

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3)

~~~~~~

Legend leaned against his kitchen counter, chin in his palm and nose scrunched against the breeze leaking through the window.

"Foul ball, that was a foul ball!"

"Wha- no it wasn't! You can't call a foul ball whenever we score!"

Warriors and Twilight glowered at each other. On the far side of the backyard, Wind dribbled a spotted ball between his ankles and made small talk with Wild, who was trying to wipe away the sweat pooling under his arms with the end of his ponytail.  Legend scrunched his nose in disgust. Apparently the champion's bright idea to host a ball game in the hottest hour of the afternoon had come back to bite him.

His focus drifted over to the other side of his backyard, where Hyrule stood forlornly between two wooden posts. His team's poor excuse for a goal, most likely.

"You tried to trip me!"

"I did not! Stop whining, would you? If you wanted to win you should have learned the rules of the game beforehand."

"Cut me some slack, Twi. It's my first time playing!"

"Not an excuse. If you wanted to learn you could have just stayed inside with Sky and Legend or gone to the market with Four!"

Warriors took a few quick steps forward. Twilight stood his ground and puffed up his chest.

"That's enough, you two." Time said, voice snapping from his spot on a nearby bench. Legend grunted. What kind of referee watched from a bench? This was why there was an argument happening in the first place.

Behind him, the kettle began to whistle. Legend pushed himself off his elbows and turned to shut off the stove top, only partially ignoring the sounds of athletic revelry from the backyard. Porcelain clinked as Legend pulled a cup off the drying rack, then, glancing across the room, pulled off another.

If Sky was bothered by any of the commotion outside or the domestic ambience inside, he didn't show it. Instead, he sat at a table by the porch window, filing idly through the mounds of miscellaneous letters and trinkets piled around him. An overhead cuckoo clock wheedled out a dinky tune as Sky scrutinized an oddly-shaped mask.

"Coffee?" Legend asked.

Sky looked up from the table, then smiled.

"Yes, please!"

"Wrong, it's tea. What kind do you want?"

Sky's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he caught on.

"Oh, haha! You got me. Uh, I don't really know. Surprise me."

Legend nodded to himself as he poured the kettle into the two cups. "You like sweet stuff?"

"Yeah, big fan. Can't drink anything too hot, though. Hurts my face. You got any iced tea or something?"

Steam plumed from the cups. Legend let out a small snort.

"Would have been nice to know that earlier."

Sky scratched the back of his neck and had the decency to offer up an apologetic smile. With a roll of his eyes, Legend set the kettle down and hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter.

He knew he stored the ice cubes in one of the overhead cabinets, but which one? Cabinets opened and closed as Legend balanced precariously on the countertop. Where was it? Had he really been gone so long that he didn't know where his own things were?

"Hey Legend, what's this?"

Paper rustled. The legs of Sky's chair squeaked as he leaned back, and in the corner of his eye Legend saw his companion hold something up to his face.

"Little busy here," Legend mumbled, closing yet another cabinet full of pots and pans. Maybe he should give some to Ravio; the guy needed some things for his new place, anyway. "Can you describe it to me?"

A snicker, then a stifled sound of agreement. Legend would have turned around to glare at Sky if he wasn't busy gloating over his find; the ice, at last! The countertop groaned as Legend plopped the bag of ice atop it and hopped onto the floor.

"It's a letter," Sky began, his voice uncharacteristically suave. Legend's eyes narrowed. "It's in this little pink envelope, and there's a little heart sticker on it. Says on the back....'from Elise.' Oh ho ho! Who's Elise? And there's another one here! This one's white, and it has a flower sticker on the lip. Very, very cute. Is this from Elise, too? Let me see...oh goddesses! 'From Carmen!' Carmen! Now tell me, does Elise know about this Carmen?"

Sky looked up at him with an impossibly smug grin. Legend pressed the corners of his lips down as he pulled out the rest of the ingredients for the tea.

"They're just girls," Legend began. "Just-"

"Just girls? What kind of philosophy is that? And to think you criticize Warriors for his womanizing tendencies..."

"You didn't let me finish! They're just girls who work at the bakery in Castle Town. I don't know how they got my address, but one day they all started sending me letters like that."

Sky's eyebrows piqued upwards. It might have looked innocent if not for the devious smile on his face.

"Oh, I see. So why did you keep them? Elise and Carmen must have been very sorry to have not received any response," Sky said, rifling through the stack of pink and red and crème colored letters and flipping them over to read the names on the back. Legend pretended he didn't see Sky's grin widen. "And I'm guessing the same is true for poor Lisa...and Donatella...and Trish..."

It was a good thing that Legend was preoccupied with measuring out sugar and honey, because if he had been any closer to the ice cubes, they might have melted from the heat radiating off Legend's face.

"I'm serious, Sky! I don't know any of them. I don't know why they kept sending the letters -- I never even gave them my address! I mean, I'm sure they're all really nice girls, but I'm just not, you know, in the position to be in a relationship right now...with the traveling and heroics and all that..."

Silverware clattered as Legend pulled open a drawer and retrieved a fruit knife. The sound of shouting and running echoed from outside. Light streamed through the kitchen window, and the breeze pushed along dust bunnies on the floor. Sky studied Legend, watching with unusual intensity as the latter skinned and diced a peach, then folded his hands behind his head.

"Fine, fine. But one more question, then."

Legend made a vague sound that could have been read as either grateful or irritated; most likely, it was a combination of both. Sky pushed forward anyway.

"Why'd you keep them?"

"What?"

"The cards. Why did you keep them? Did you just not have a chance to throw them away or something?"

"Throw them away? Of course not! Did you see the paper they're made of? That sort of high quality cardstock doesn't come from just anywhere! If I can find a way to bleach the paper without damaging it, I can use it for all sorts of things!"

Sky snorted, smiled, and tossed a handful of pink cards back onto the table. Hoarder, indeed.

"I think that Ravio friend of yours is starting to rub off on you."

"He is not," Legend insisted, placing a spoon and straw in both cups before walking over to the table. Only after Sky brushed away the cards in front of him did Legend hand him his tea. "He would have tried to sell them off as antiques or something. Guy wouldn't know what a real antique was even if it was staring him in the face."

Sky hummed. The sound bubbled into his tea and set little capsules of air drifting across the frothy surface. "Hey, did you put peaches in this?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

Outside, Warriors cried foul and Hyrule said something about headshots. Sky sipped his drink again, then grinned. "Mmmm, delicious. Yeah, I love it! Give me the recipe sometime, huh?"

"Heh, will do. Glad you like it."

"And speaking of Ravio, where is he? Didn't you say he used to squat here?"

Legend nodded, hands cupped around his drink and goosebumps flaring from its soothing coolness. "He did, but he just moved out. Got his own shop by the castle, with a big nice sign out in front. Professionally made. It looks pretty good, honestly. I haven't seen him in a while, but I might drop by sometime to say hi."

"Ah, I see," Sky said, absently threading one of the love letters through his fingers. Legend shot him a dirty glare, but he paid it no mind. "Hey, you said that these girls somehow figured your address, right? Do you think Ravio might have given it out? Maybe while you were gone or something?"

"Ravio? That's ridiculous. He's not the sort of guy to do that. For the longest time he's been telling me to...to..."

Legend's eyes widened. The goosebumps along his arms grew more pronounced, and this time it wasn't from his chilly drink.

"He what?" Sky prompted.

"He's been telling me to get a girlfriend for the longest time and...he...he set me up. He set me up! He gave out my address to those girls. I know it! He...this is his fault!"

Sky burst into laughter. Tea sprayed across the table, splattering across rose-colored envelopes and sparkling cardstock. Legend punched him in the shoulder, hard, but Sky didn't stop.

"Ravio! Ravio as your wingman, I would have never thought! Doing the goddesses' work, he is!"

"Oh, shut up, would you? I'm not going to make you tea again!"

Their punching and tousling cooled when the front door swung open. A moment later, Four stepped inside, arms laden with groceries and a peculiar grin on his face.

"You're back!" Sky said. Legend mumbled something about Sky stating the obvious before placing his cup to his cheek, trying to smother his burning blush.

"Sorry to interrupt whatever was going on here," Four said. That odd smile was still on his face. "I’m just about to put all these groceries away, but there's something I need to give to Legend first."

"Me?" Legend asked. Four's grin widened; it looked unnervingly similar to the one Sky had worn just minutes ago.

"Yes, special delivery. From a certain 'Amelia'. It's the red box, yeah, that one."

Legend picked up the box gently, sandwiching it between his forearm and bicep, and shuddered. Sky and Four traded a sidelong look before the latter darted off into the kitchen.

"Well? What do you think it is?" Sky asked.

"I don't want to know," Legend whispered. He took a seat by the table before tossing the box by his cup. Something rustled inside.

"Open it..."

"Open it!" Four chimed from the kitchen. His voice was unusually high.

With a world weary sigh, Legend edged his fingers under the box cover and slowly lifted it upwards.

"Well? What is it?"

"Wait, would you? I can't tell..."

Legend leaned forward, squinting.

His eyes widened.

With an undignified BANG, he slammed the box shut and launched it across the room. His face was stained a dangerous color of scarlet.

"...well?" Sky repeated, "what was it?"

Legend let out a short breath, then leaned over to cradle his head in his hands.

"...remind me to kill Ravio the next time I see him," he growled.

Sky and Four burst into laughter, and even Legend couldn't fully stifle a smile.

~~ Fine ~~ I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading! [Previous Request] - [Next Request]

[songsformonkeys]

12 days of Christmas Pedros. Short little ficlets based on prompts that can be found here. One ficlet every other day. Thank you @yespolkadotkitty for the beautiful banner!

Day 5 - “Merry Christmas, Bitch” - Javier Peña

The doors to the elevator pinged and as they opened they revealed Agent Peña leaning against the back wall, picking at a loose thread of his beige suit jacket. You immediately felt your mood sour and as Peña looked up and noticed you, the same emotion was mirrored on his face. The two of you couldn't stand each other, hadn't been able to ever since your first week at the office. He was rude and inconsiderate, an entitled douchebag with an overblown ego. You had not been fooled by the smarmy smiles he'd attempted to throw your way when you'd first showed up, and apparently, that had been enough to make him hate you as well.

You tightened your grip on the bag in your arms and stepped into the elevator.

”Merry Christmas, asshole!” you said in a dulcet tone. His face twitched in something that was probably supposed to be a smile.

”Merry Christmas, bitch!” he countered as the doors closed behind you. You demonstratively turned your back on him and pressed the elevator button for the ground floor.

That could have been the end of your interactions that day, it would have been a small mercy after the truly shitty week you'd had, but of course, the universe showed no such mercy.

The elevator had just passed the third floor when suddenly it lurched and the lights went out. You couldn't hold back the startled yelp but noted that Peña had made a similar – if lower in pitch- noise as the elevator stopped. It was only dark for a second before the red emergency lights lit up but it was enough for fear to wrap its cold fingers around your throat and squeeze.

You hated small spaces, always had. Hated hated the idea of being stuck and unable to get out. You'd trained yourself to be able to take the elevator, despite the fear that it would get stuck. Now you felt like  you should have listened to that fear.

In a desperate attempt to get the elevator moving again, you slammed your hand against every single one of the elevator buttons.

”Yeah, that'll help,” Peña submitted sarcastically from behind you.

”Shut up!” you snarled, feeling the panic creeping closer and closer.

”I'm just saying... The elevator is clearly stuck.”

”I know it's fucking stuck, Peña! Why do you think I'm...” You cut yourself off as you felt Fear's grip around your throat tighten, making it difficult to breathe. Nonono, not now, and not with him!

”Jesus Christ,” Peña sighed and you could practically hear the eye-roll. ”Relax, will you.”

You didn't answer. You were too busy being unable to breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest and your hands had begun to shake. You dropped the bag in your arms and fumbled with the bow collar of your silk blouse. Couldn't Peña feel it too? How the oxygen was running low. There wasn't enough air!

Peña finally noticed something, but it wasn't the oxygen levels.

”You okay?” he asked slowly. You didn't answer, didn't have the time to educate him on your impending suffocation if he was too stupid to notice for himself.

”Hey!” Peña continued. ”Look at me. It's fine, okay? You pushed the red button before during your button smash. They're gonna get us in no time, alright. I mean it. Look at me!”

This time you listened and your wild and panicky gaze met his. Peña looked calmer than he had any right to in the red glow of the emergency lights, but strangely the look in his brown eyes affected you too and you desperately held his gaze as he continued speaking to you with a softness in his voice that you'd never heard before. He helped guide your breathing back to normal and when he held out his hand, you only hesitated for a couple of seconds before taking it and squeezing it hard. The touch helped ground you and once you got your breathing under control, you felt the panic subside and retreat to the back of your mind.

The fear was almost instantly replaced by exhaustion and you slowly slid to the floor as your legs felt unable to hold you. Peña let go of your hand and resumed his former spot leaning against the back wall of the elevator.

”Where did you learn that?” was the only thing you could think to ask. Peña had clearly helped someone through a panic attack before. He cleared his throat.

”...My dad used to get them after my mom died.” He didn't elaborate or offer up any more details than that. He didn't need to.

”I'm sorry,” you said. Peña just shrugged.

You searched for something else to say. Thank you sounded too stupid. So instead you picked up a plastic container from your bag and pulled the lid open. You held the container out to Peña.

”Saffron bun?”

Peña only hesitated for a few moments before accepting the offer. He took a bun and after some consideration he sat down on the floor opposite you.

”This is the fourth time I'm stuck in this elevator,” he shared. ”I know the drill pretty well by now. They need to get down to the machine room but then they usually get it fixed pretty quick.” He glanced down at his wristwatch. ”Shouldn't be too long.”

You nodded, feeling the fear prickle at the back of your mind at the mention of the elevator. You took a bite of the bun to distract yourself. Peña did the same and his eyes widened in surprise.

”These are good,” he stated and you smiled a little.

”Thank you.”

You ate in silence before suddenly the lights came back on and, with a long beeep, the elevator started moving again. Both you and Peña grinned wide at each other before you remembered yourselves and schooled your expressions into something a bit more serious. You packed up your things and stood up, smoothing your skirt and retying the bow of your blouse before the elevator reached the ground floor.

Just before the doors opened, you turned on a whim and held out the container with the rest of the saffron buns towards Peña.

”Merry Christmas,” you said as a thank you and also maybe as an attempt at a peace offering. Peña looked at the container for a couple of seconds before reaching out and taking it.

”Merry Christmas,” he echoed, ”...and thanks.”

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

Taglist: @yespolkadotkitty​ @agirllovespancakes @pedropascallion @ohpedromypedro @knittingqueen13 @pedropascalito @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mourningbirds1 @alwaysbethewest (still sorry) @heatherbel @larakasser @fromthedeskoftheraven @seawhisperer @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrschiltoncat @pajamasecrets @phoenixhalliwell @ilikechocolatemilkh @dornish-queen @holographic-carmen @thirstworldproblemss

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

[hoodoo12]

Festival (30/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @go-commander-kim @saucymangos @beetlebitchywitch

Everyone departs, in various ways. Some go away further than others (and may have further adventures . . . wink) Thank you to everyone who took a chance reading this very self-indulgent rp scenario. Thanks especially to @pinkbeej for being such a fun amazing partner, and more importantly, a fun amazing human being.

Beej and his clone locked eyes as Eve explained the circumstance. Initially there was hesitation on his part for losing a piece of himself permanently, a sort of damage he had never sustained before; on her part, for losing her home, her lover . . . the two of them felt so certain that the curse would bring her back into him the moment he was put away. If that wasn't the case, though . . .

"It'll be fine. I think she's shown she's got enough drive to be . . . the me I could never quite be," he said softly, giving a nervous grin to the manifestation of his self-hatred and femininity. She was made from powerful feelings, and had much more potential than he'd previously thought.

Pink swallowed thickly and nodded, biting at her lips as tears lined her lower lid. Beej floated closer to her so that she'd have no cause to release Carmen's hand or leave Kadus' grasp. Two additional arms sprouted from her, reaching for him as he leaned in to embrace her. The hair of both forms gleamed brightly, and when he pulled back he looked surprised for a moment, until understanding and a wider smile set in.

"Go. If you end up staying . . . you'll be all right."

He backed up a step as Pink scooped Carmen up into arms that stretched to comfortably hold her even with her distended stomach.

"I'll see you at home, sugar." she murmured, kissing her cheek and neck. "Or I'll find a way to come see you again."

She turned timidly to Kadus and blushed. "You . . . you sure you don't mind me coming along?"

⁂

Jessie perked her brow a little, but noted that it didn't seem like Eve would help them find out more about Andy . . . now that she was familiar with his face, she supposed that didn't matter much. Perhaps she'd talk some sense into him, but . . . well, there was always her way of dealing with things to fall back on. She shook off the initial irritation at having no further leads into finding the asshole and turned her focus back to the brownie and Ollie.

"What do you think honey? He's been helpful and sweet. If he would like to, would you mind us offering to bring him home?" she asked. It relieved her to think that there would be another being to keep Ollie company if she wanted some alone time with BJ. She had to admit, the furry little thing was so ugly it was cute.

"Does that interest you?" Her last question was asked directly to the brownie.

She mindfully continued to touch BJ through the questioning, allowing a steady stream of her thoughts to pass to him in flashes. The man being gutted if he appeared again-- Ollie and the brownie being occupied together while she took his hand and pulled him to Harold's porch--a little burst of excitement and pleasure at the recollection of the taste and effect of the jelly cakes.

With a pink tint to her cheeks, she allowed her mind to wander down other avenues as well. His thumb in her mouth--hands held above her head--the sharp, repetitive slap of hard thrusts--her pinned and bent beneath him, thighs nearly at her sides with his tongue in her mouth . . .

She looked a little dazed as the fantasy ran away with her and she stopped herself before she could go so far as to tease him with the orgasm he wasn't yet allowed to have. Gods, she hoped it'd make him ravenous. She felt delightfully attractive and sensual, reveling in the pleasure she'd been able to share that night. She ached in her womb with the desire to be claimed by him, to give back every piece of her she'd shared for his pleasure.

The flow of thought and emotion shut down as she found herself spurred even further into her needy daydreams by the realization that he had access to her little mental spiral. She tried hard to focus instead on the responses to her questions.

⁂

Watching her lover and his clone quietly make the decision for her to go, Carmen chewed on the inside of her lip. She wanted him whole but wanted him happy, and she was only just beginning to understand which fractured parts of his souls each clone manifested. It seemed like this decision was edging more towards the happy side of his equation. She enjoyed getting to know this clone, but if it was best for Beej, she supported it.

What worried her most is not calling his name. He’d been out all night, and despite not using much of his energy he did use some, and she had no idea how much he actually had, or if he was leaving a trail that was going to lead his monster of a mother back to them. She hated that keeping him safe meant keeping him cocooned away from the world.

Still, she accepted the the final decision and burst into a surprised little laugh as his female clone pulled her against her, even as tears wet her face. “Have fun,” she whispered into her ear, “be careful.” She took a deep breath, locking the light floral scent from the delicate flowers into her memory. She pulled back a little and brushed her pink hair back just to keep the contact for a moment more, then kissed her gently on the mouth. “I can’t wait to hear about everything,” Carmen told her, then let her go. Once Pink was released, Kadus gathered her up. “Yes, ροζ θεά μου. I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise. What the witch says is true, however. I don’t know the way back that isn’t ordained by set laws between the worlds.”

“The door, centaur,” a low voice near the dying bonfire called. Carmen and Beej looked over Kadus’s haunches to the minotaur who’d spoken. At some point he’d put on his thin loincloth again, and in the brightening dawn, Carmen saw the true color of his horns under the gilding: verigated white and black. In respect to the somberness of the moment she had to bite her tongue and not giggle; she must be automatically drawn to black and white now. She could feel Beej’s fingers tightening on her and his quizzical glance at her as she shook slightly in the effort not to laugh, and knew she’d have to tell him why sooner or later.

“I’ll take care of her,” Kadus assured Beej and Carmen. It was easy to see they were torn between letting her go, worry, and fear. It pleased him, however, that his offer was accepted; he hadn’t lied when telling Pink he wanted to show her his homeland.

With a final nod to the two of them, he led Pink away towards the faint shimmer passed the bonfire. A satyr slipped through, and a few fauns lingered as if to see if Eve was going to follow. She didn’t. They skipped into the doorway, visible one second and not the next, and then the minotaur lowered his head to step through as well. When it was Kadus’s turn, Carmen lifted her hand to wave and then wiped away more tears that fell.

⁂

Jessie had asked him a question, but before he could answer dirty fantasies flooded his mind’s eye. As much sex as she’d had over the past night she was still horny and it showed; it should be embarrassing to get a hard-on with a breather who was a essentially a stranger standing right in front of him, but after this orgy he supposed it didn’t matter.

BJ reached up to cup Jessie in what he hoped looked to be a protective way, although it was mostly to keep his hand off his cock for the moment. He did manage to muzzle a moan at the images she fed him too, and briefly he wondered if she was going to be sore, when they could find some time for themselves, and--oh shit, when did she need to feed again?

They really did need to go.

It was in the back of his mind that he had no real reason to refuse to let another fey take up residence in his place, and Jessie was already asking the little creature its opinion. It was answering positively without his blessing anyway. The witch’s pointed directive at least gave him a chance to turn and move to pick up his suit. “Leaving the clearing is exiting,” she called after him, making him pause. Should he say something to anyone else? The specter who seemed so similar to him but different in fundamental ways hadn’t yet turned back to them. He had no idea if he’d ever see him and his scarred lover again, so it would probably be polite--

“We’re going,” BJ called in their general direction. When the two of them turned, he lifted a hand. “Thanks for . . .”

Stupid, but he didn’t know how to end that sentence. A one time blow job and fuck fueled by fairy magic didn’t mean anything, but being approached and accepted did. In the end, paralyzed by indecision, he simply nodded to them, made sure everyone he carried had a handhold on him to not be dislodged, and stepped into the treeline. His suit reclothed him with a thought, like a second skin, and despite Ollie’s earlier declaration he’d have to find his own way home, the leprechaun twittered in his ear a route. Arriving with two housemate but leaving with three, BJ shook his head and glanced back for a final look at the clearing.

As Pink returned Carmen's kiss with a sweet smile in her eyes, Beej watched the exchange with mixed feelings. There was still the large amount of certainty that his clone would be pulled back into him by the curse, but the tears on his lover's face made him almost regret the decision to let a piece of himself travel to another world. The potential for what they could learn from it, though . . .

As Pink floated alongside Kadus, having waved to Carmen, Beej and even smiling in farewell toward Eve and the specter who had indulged with them all earlier . . . it dawned on her that perhaps it was his interaction that gave her the courage to try to branch out and caused her to make Kadus' acquaintance.

She hugged close to him, eyeing the door between their worlds with excitement, wonder and curiosity. Her arms tightened around his arm as she watched the other beings vanish in passing through. As Kadus prepared to pass through, she turned and saw Carmen waving to her. With a brilliant smile, she raised her arm and waved back, though her wave was bouncy, happy and enthusiastic.

Before she could change her mind, she turned and met Kadus' eyes with a warm smile and nodded, floating alongside him as he stepped through.

Beej turned to Carmen and gathered her to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks and bending to kiss her lips softly. Multiple hands fussed over her, drying her tears and brushing back her hair from her forehead, stroking her back and cupping her ass to pull her in.

"'S alright babes, I'm right here." he murmured softly, hoping to comfort her.

He nudged her forehead with her own, kissing her cheeks and the tip of her nose sweetly. The call of BJ's voice snagged his attention, and even as he held her close he turned to listen to the other ghost.

The half-finished sentence made him smile, the guy did seem like the type to not know what to say after a positive experience with strangers . . . and truth be told, he could remember the time when he wouldn't have had words either.

"Thank you!" he called back with a grin, "'N remember, it's all right ta be happy."

One of his many hands held up BJ's card, displaying that he'd held onto it purposefully, not wanting to lose the memento of this strange other.

Jessie listened to the exchange with a grin, cocking her head a little as Beej held up a somewhat familiar looking card. It'd been ages since she'd seen any of those, back before they'd replaced the bed! She didn't have much to say, but she raised her tiny arm and waved at Beej and Carmen and Eve as BJ stepped away, clothing himself and taking his leave with her and both tiny fey clinging to him securely. As they vanished from view, Beej looked back down to Carmen with a smile.

"How're ya feelin' babes?" he asked, brushing her hair behind her ear again. "'m surprised yer still standing."

His lighthearted tease was followed up by a soft kiss to her lips.

Carmen watched as Beej’s clone floated to the doorway on the arm of the centaur, excitement plastering a wide smile on her face. It occurred to her, in a rush of panic, that she was nude, but just before she could call out after her to put on some clothes, Beej was holding her and kissing her, and the other specter’s voice was telling them he was leaving.

She turned just her head in response to the call, and by the time she looked back to the doorway between planes, Beej’s clone was gone.

She held onto Beej a little tighter then, even as she managed a good bye to the ghost almost at the tree line. His striped suit reappeared on him and although she should have been able to see him for a longer period in the trees, after only a step or two he was gone from sight as well.

Her throat hurt, and she took in a shaky breath. Beej still cuddled her, soothing her; it occurred to Carmen she should be doing that for him, not the other way round. Still, his query made her laugh a little. Luckily Eve had given them a little privacy, returning to the side of a few other witches tamping out the remaining coals of the fire, so she didn’t feel embarrassed to answer him.

“I’m not sure either,” she admitted, slipping a hand between her legs to cup herself lightly. “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to walk once all the adrenaline wears off.

“Thanks for last night. I’m glad we attended.” Carmen kissed him and was interrupted with her cousin telling them to get their clothes; it was past time to go. Hand in hand, they crossed the clearing to where they’d entered. Carmen slipped her cotton shift over her head and let Eve and Beej lead her through the forest again.

fin

[ren1327]

Sweater Weather ch.4

Kenji quickly took Ben by the hand and threw out a half assed excuse about needing to talk to Ben.

He pulled Ben outside and led him behind the house and into a small grove of trees.

“Kenji?” Ben asked.

“Stop. Stop talking now!” He demanded.

He stopped and whirled around to Ben, who lifted his arms on instinct to cover his face.

“No! I’m not gonna…fuck, fuck, fuck!” He yelled, grabbing his head.

“Kenji?”

“…I…How…” He looked at Ben and swallowed.

“Pinky?”

Ben paled and took a step back.

“No, no, no!” Kenji said softly, holding his hands up.

“You do remember.” Ben whispered.

“I…I tried to forget. We moved to California and…Ben…”

“Don’t. Don’t say something cause you’re guilty…”

“…Did you almost die?” Kenji asked.

“Dave had a back up for me. He gave it to me in his truck and…” Ben stomped his foot. “Why did you do that? Who are you? You tormented me for months and hurt me and humiliated me and now you’re some wholesome big brother and want to be with your family?!”

“Ben—”

“I was just trying to survive and make sure my mom was comfortable and happy and the stress of all that made her sicker and—”

“Wait, what?”

Ben was crying and scrubbed at his face.

“She was really sick, Kenji…And she wasn’t getting better to begin with…” He said softly. “I knew she was gonna die. Dave knew too and…We didn’t have enough money to go to Seattle. She wanted to see it one more time and she couldn’t. So we moved with Dave back to San Antonio and…it didn’t help. You hurting me didn’t help! Why were you so awful to me?!”

Kenji stared at Ben and in the snow, and he saw the small, slight fifteen year old Ben. With paler skin and so thin Kenji could break him. With eyes rimmed with dark circles and a little pink from crying. In worn down clothes and secondhand shoes. And an old backpack held together by terribly stitched close tears.

But still…when he himself was only fifteen.

He had fallen in love.

He always smelled like basic fabric softener. His grades were always the best. The teachers liked him and he was always so quiet and reserved.

Kenji had asked him for a pencil and Ben had lent him a cheap dollar store pencil with a worn down pink eraser in the shape of a happy face on the end.

And Kenji had fallen in love with those big expressive eyes of his. How pink his cheeks got when he was flustered.

Why did he pick on Ben so much?

He felt his cheeks heat and he realized…Ben was still so expressive and kind. Could he fall in love again?

“I…I don’t know.” He whispered, more to himself.

Ben sniffed and crossed his arms.

“So what now?”

“…Do you want to leave?”

“…Let’s just stick it out.” Ben said. “Get your money and just…”

“I’m still helping you with your shop.” Kenji said.

“What?” Ben asked. “No, don’t do this out of guilt—”

“You needed it.” Kenji said. “From guys like me.”

Ben stared at the taller man as he took a step closer.

“You needed a safe place away from me. And so do other kids. And maybe…Maybe I needed that place too.” He said. “To teach me to be…better.”

“Kenji…” Ben sighed. “Let’s just put it behind us. It’s exhausting thinking back on that day.”

“Ben…for what its worth…I’m so sorry. I swore from that day on I would never treat anyone like that again. And now Carmen..”

“…You swore?” Ben asked, looking skeptical.

“I did. I never want to see anyone cry like you did. Never.”

Ben sighed. “Okay. Come here and hug me.”

“What?”

“Carmen has been peeking through the blinds and if we want to sell this…”

Kenji huffed and shook his head before enveloping Ben in a tight hug. Ben wrapped his hands around the others neck, closing his eyes.

“By the way, your Dad is totally my type.” Ben whispered and Kenji sputtered, pulling away as Ben laughed.

  “Everything ok, boys?” Candy asked when they came back in.

“Yeah. Ben was just finky about his Christmas present.”

“Present?” Candy asked, turning to mix something in a pot.

“Uh, yeah…I uh, planned to get him…a…a…” He looked at Ben who frowned and shrugged.

“A dog!” Ben yelled, panicked.

“A dog?” Candy asked, turning. “Kenji, how sweet! You two are already becoming pet parents!”

“Y-Yeah.” Kenji said. “He didn’t want a pure bred. He wanted a rescue.”

“Oh, Ben.” Candy cooed. “How sweet. You two should have Owen take you to the city to see if anyone sparks your interest.”

“T-Today?” Kenji asked.

“Carmen has been wanting to go into town to get some comic books or something. I’ll give her some spending money.” She said. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, we can bond!” Kenji said nervously.

“…Son, you’re yelling an awful lot.” Candy said. “I’ll ring Owen, you go tell your sister she has twenty minutes to get ready.”

“Yeah, sure, come on Ben.” Kenji said, leading Ben into the hall.

When they were far enough, Kenji looked at Ben. “A dog?”

“I panicked and just blurted out something.” Ben whispered back.

“Do you even like dogs?”

“I love dogs! I’ve always wanted an emotional support animal and we can even have one for the shop.”

“…as your investor, I have to agree with this idea.” Kenji huffed. “Studies have shown dogs to help in emotional therapy and with stressed children and teens.”

He was about to go up the stairs when he noticed his sister waiting at the door dressed in a raincoat over a sweater and matching boots.

He chuckled and sighed. “Okay, lets go.”

  Carmen walked around happily as they shopped around the mall.

She had them stop every so often to take pictures together.

“I haven’t seen you take this many pictures since before I left.” Kenji said as they sat on a bench.

Carmen was moving her manga from her shopping bags into her backpack. She folded the plastic bags and put them in a pocket inside her backpack.

“I didn’t have any reason to. But since you’re here, I might as well take as many as I want. Who knows when I’ll see you again!” She said, but frowned. “Oh…I didn’t mean…”

“I get it.” Kenji said and touched her shoulder.

Ben walked up to them with a tray of lemonades and soft baked pretzels. “Hungry?”

Carmen nodded and accepted the food with a grin. “Kenji, you’re so lucky you have Ben!”

Kenji blushed and looked at Ben as he took a pretzel. “I know.”

“I need to get one more thing. Wait here?” She asked.

“Sure.” Kenji said and Ben sat next to him. “Thanks. She looks so happy.”

“Of course. I like Carmen. And your parents are cool too. You have a really great family.” Ben said. “Can I ask…”

DING!

Ben looked down to see Carmen had left her phone on the bench. He picked it up to see a message on facebook.

How sad is it your brother’s so hot and you’re not?

Ugh, even his boyfriend looks like a loser.

Queen Kon looks even fatter than before, lol.

Ben gasped and dropped the phone on Kenji’s lap.

Kenji picked it up and paled when he read the messages.

“Carmen…she’s still being bullied…” He whispered.

He looked at Ben.

“Tell me…”

“She’s gonna feel trapped and scared and try to fight off her negativity. But cyber bullying is a whole other ballgame. If you report them, they’ll just make new profiles.” Ben said softly. “And come at you harder. And you can try to talk to their parents, but most likely, seeing from what class and area they come from, they wont face too much punishment…”

“So what can she do?”

“She needs time for now.” Ben said. “Maybe after all this, we can talk to her about it.”

“Okay.” Kenji said, deleting the messages and blocking them.

  Owen opted to wait in the indoor car park with their coats while they went into the shelter, Carmen excitedly looking at the toys and leashes.

“Right this way, please.” A tired looking man said softly, leading them to the back.

The smell of kibble and wet fur hit Ben first, then the loud sound of the dogs barking.

He looked around at the dogs.

There were so many and it was so loud—

Kenji took Ben’s hand and looked down at him.

“You good?”

“Um, yeah.” He said, noticing Carmen staring at them.

“Guys, look!” She suddenly said and walked up to a pen labeled “Bumpy”.

Inside was a terrier mix with a short crooked looking ear and matted fur.

“Poor thing…” Ben whispered.

“Just got her a bit ago. Not a lot of people want her because of the ear. It makes her waddle since her hearing is a little off.” The employee said. “But she’s really energetic and great with kids. And she’s been here two months.”

He looked at them.

“And two and a half is our limit before we send them to the other shelter.”

“We’ll take her.” Ben said quickly and Carmen cooed as the pup lifted her head.

“Hey, Carm, go pick a few things for her?”

“I’ll throw in some of the food she’s use to.” The employee said as Carmen sped off.

He lifted Bumpy and held her to Ben. “We were going to get her to a groomer. But she never let anyone with scissors near her.”

“I know someone!” Kenji said. “Can we groom her here?”

“Sure.”

  Owen sighed as he finished clipping away the extra fur off Bumpy. 

She now looked like the mix of a jack russel terrier and a rottweiler, short and barrel chested with a curled tail and pointed nose. She panted happily, freshly bathed and wearing a mint green leather collar with a spotted bow where the matching leash clipped. Kenji had made her tags and put the lighthouse as her place of residence, along with a bone shaped name tag with her name engraved on it.

“The vet checked her last week, so she’s good to go. She’s housebroken and good in public places, but I wouldn’t keep her out all day. Once you get home, just let her run around and get familiar with her surroundings for a good thirty six hours.” He said. “Thank you for giving her a home. I think you’ll make each other really happy.”

Carmen was taking pictures with Bumpy, sending them to her parents before she went to pick more toys for her seasonal housemate.

“Yeah.” Ben said as Carmen found a doggie raincoat and boot set that looked similar to hers. “Thank you.”

[softkitten]

Months in music, 2020

I used to always write about my favourite songs and albums of the year, but recently I’ve fallen out of practice. I felt I had to write about this last year, as the pandemic has played havoc with my memory, but I need to be able to remember what happened. It’s been important. I came out changed. I know you did too, and I hope if you read this, you find something to relate to. 

I’m unsure as to whether 2020 was an amazing year for music, or if being under lockdown and out of work meant that I had more time to spend with it, but I do know that music this year overall made me more excited than any year since I was a teenager. The circumstances we’ve all been putting up with have meant that we’ve had to learn new ways of being, new circuitry is growing in our brains, even if we’re old farts, as we’ve discarded habits that no longer work and take on new ones. 

I’m a mess. My anxiety disorder is worse than it’s been since I was a teenager. I’m not sleeping well. I spend a lot of time with my heart in my throat, and sometimes my temper can just erupt all at once, surprising me and anyone unfortunate enough to be present for the outburst. But I’m kinder, more considered, better with money, better at acting ‘professional’ without performing a weird caricature. I kind of moved on from performance this year, despite a lot of previous generational habits. The version of me that I present at work is me in some way, reconciled with the idea that if I were allowed to do whatever I want I’d be on a beach somewhere with a drink in my hand. That ideal doesn’t define me, nor does a workplace role. 

2020 music hit different. Calvin Harris dropped the hottest club tracks of his entire career in a year when if you were caught in a club, you were doing something very, very bad indeed. Disco has dominated Spotify playlists and public spaces (when allowed), this is alright by me as disco is responsible for the sexiest parts of hip hop, house, pop, etc. We consume music differently, as the monoculture has by now completely disintegrated and no one ever, ever listens to radio. If you like something, Spotify will find ways to bring you more of it, you will rarely, if ever, hear Britney Spears or even Michael Jackson unless you seek them out. I’ve spent more time with music this year than I have since I was a teenager, I’m excited and awed by it in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time, but I also feel out of touch and very much my age. I don’t go on Tiktok. I don’t get it. I don’t need to be dancing in the kitchen or composing sketch comedy bits on my phone, I’m a middle aged man with payments on my car and a desk job. I think what’s going on is a changing of the guard - millennials are no longer the focus of ‘youth culture’ insofar as that exists. Remember 1999-2001, the cringiest of pop eras, when the major stars of the ‘90s were releasing sedate, mature records or just breaking up their bands, and the charts were the province of things that seemed retrogressive and primitive like Korn? It certainly was primitive, it was made for literal children, and I see something very similar in Tiktok hits and emo rap. 

Sheena’s ex was enamored of a scene in a 2000s action movie starring The Rock, wherein Schwarzenegger cameos to toss The Rock a set of keys and tell him, “Have fun”. Well, you censorious unfunky Gen Z brats are welcome to youth culture, I hope you do a better job of it than we did - frankly we left you a hell of a mess to clean up. If you need me, I’ll be working out how to enact my plan to die on a beach somewhere. 

January - Work Drugs - Burned 

January was a fuck of a lot different. Sheena and I had just come back from Playa del Carmen, our skin was tan and our hair was long. I had a great big bushy beard. I looked older in January, I was trying to cultivate a professorial air for work. I had plans. I was aggressively dealing with my debt. We were going to go to the west coast in June to see Luna, our newborn niece, and we were going to try to make it to Bass Coast, where, hopefully, Denis Sulta would be playing as he had done in the previous two years. 

Work Drugs is something Spotify found for me. I know nothing about these fucking people, after a year of listening to their entire catalogue. I think I found out that two guys were responsible for it, two guys I couldn’t pick out of a police lineup. They make knowingly corny ‘80s style pop - think Hall and Oates, or Huey Lewis on tranquilizers. One of my favourite things millennials have done in art is reclaiming elevator music, smooth jazz, adult contemporary, etc. - this music that was the definition of uncool when it was first published is now the new punk statement, millennials never had any appetite for buzzsaw guitars or shouty anger men outside of, like, emo. 

Vaporwave started ten years ago and it was pronounced dead within months. It’s far from dead. It’s responsible for Work Drugs, The Midnight, Nonlocal Forecast - music that is desperate to return to the illusory public stability of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Work Drugs fit in because it played well at the diverse office I worked in (median age, 46), because the name spoke to a duality I see in myself. The drugs you take on the weekend, the drugs you take to get through the work day. If only we could be ‘80s adults happily blasting through our uppers-downers cycles, mulling another affair and when to put in a pool. 

February - Tame Impala - Breathe Deeper

One night Sheena and I got drunk and I told them my plan. I was going to go back to school for a master’s of counselling psychology, and I was going to pursue a doctorate in same immediately after. I was going to quit my job once I upped my education and apply - I don’t know where? The government? It all seemed so clear and now it’s as easy to recall as a nine year old dream. Anyway, Sheena told me “Your future seems so much clearer than mine” and two hours later we were fighting like cat and dog, talking divorce. The divorce didn’t happen, thank the lord. We went to counselling, and it took a few months, and a few fuckups, but the lessons did sink in eventually. I love Sheena more than ever, even moreso than during the halcyon infatuation phase of 2010, the glittering release from the tension of our friendship, and I feel more loved than ever. Things are good to great. Don’t worry. I’m not worried. I didn’t realize how worried I was before, how flawed my communication could be before. The pandemic year has helped. We’ve patched things up because we do love each other, and because we are seeing each other through the misery and uncertainty in a way no one else could. 

I used to envy the relationships of my grandparents and their contemporaries - people who were together for decades, still, for the most part, happy. I remember the way my grandmother would flirt with my grandfather, how they’d keep up their little bits well into their 80s. Contrasting that with boomers, who were all about divorce, made a child version of me think that something had gone horribly wrong. 

Tame Impala’s last album is about aging - my favourite off it is not actually “Breathe Deeper,” it’s “It Might Be Time” - It might be time to face it/ you ain’t as cool as it used to be/ you won’t recover - these lyrics spoke to me as I crested over the wrong side of 35. But “Breathe Deeper” spoke to my reality in a more complete way. I’ve always seen our grandparents, Depression survivors, in us - when millennials were firmly at the reins of youth culture, Justin Timberlake brought sexy back right after he raided my grandpa’s wardrobe. That aesthetic reflects us, as it did then. Our relationships will endure because we’ve endured hardships together, we know how to take care of each other in unique, special ways. But the paradox there is all over “Breathe Deeper”, its last lines are “We’re both adults but we behave as children/ long as we’ve got enough to keep on livin’.” Indeed, it might be time to face it, but the world leaves us little other options. The adult world, with its aspirations to middle class status, closed to us forever in 2008, two years after Timberlake. I know the aging club boy act is getting tired. So do a lot of us, but we don’t have anything else to do. May as well go to the club and shut the anxious brain off for a few hours, make it harder for us to reach our blessed phones. Return home. Do this and get through this, and until we see the sun, you’re my number one. 

March - Duke Dumont - Nightcrawler

The week after the fight in February, I got fired. I have no idea why. The official statement on my record of employment is “termination, no misconduct”. No one ever thought to explain it to me - did they find out I jacked off in the staff bathroom a couple times? Did they somehow find out that, in my off hours, I’m into psychedelics? Was I chatting on Twitter too much for their liking? I was on top of my deadlines, so why shouldn’t I be chatting on Twitter? It wasn’t a retail job, where if you have time to lean, you have time to clean. I have a lot of work trauma. What happened to me there was essentially what my anxiety disorder tells me is going to happen at any job, 24/7. Part of me is sure I’ll be fired from my current position at any moment, despite having built a totally workable relationship with my boss, clients, and staff. I took it hard. 

Everyone remembers March for the onset of COVID lockdowns, but we would do well to remember that we had no idea what we were in for back then. We were talking then about “a week off work” - can you imagine? I still fully intended to see Detroit Swindle play at Hifi Club on March 27 well into lockdowns. Hifi has since shuttered after months and months of closure and subsequent inability to produce revenue. I applied to jobs like a machine in March. Just as I was getting somewhere with interviews, the lockdowns started, and the interviews were delayed indefinitely. I had nothing to do during the day and so spent a lot of time on the online red light districts of Whisper and Reddit, plying my trade, back to my ways, looking for anons to talk sex to compulsively. “Nightcrawler” feels to me like the compulsion of hypersexuality, boredom seeking validation while already bored by the numbers game of it, going through the motions. It’s so easy. Promise the moon and then disappear. 

In March, Sheena and I were going to go back to Saskatoon for a party with Twitter friends. Instead, we got caught in a snowstorm out in the Badlands and nearly died trying to get our car back up the hill and on the way to Calgary. Immediately after, everything closed. I think about that day all the time.

April - JARV IS - House Music All Night Long

It’s not a week off work, we have no idea when it’s going to end, and the statistics are going from bad to worse. We watch the news obsessively. We keep up chat threads all day long. We don’t leave bed until our hair is lank with sweat. We drink like fish - at one point during April, I ordered delivery booze, desperate to keep the party going. I met the delivery person at the door in my bathrobe and fell down the stairs. Shortly after that, I decided to clean up my act - at least, the drinking nights have to be self contained. New routines develop. With no gym, we learn floor exercises, playing Spotify playlists of house music off a Bluetooth speaker. Cooking becomes tremendously important. I begin reading Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time in earnest - a book I began at 17, which I finally finished in June, 17 whole years after my initial purchase. Jarvis Cocker, who has been with me since I was 17, returns with a song recorded in 2019 that he seemingly composed with a crystal ball. 

“House Music All Night Long” is about endless, inescapable isolation. The futility of making and loving music that only makes sense in a public space, music that’s meant to soundtrack a joyful mutual celebration that will continue to be denied to us for the foreseeable future. It’s the closest solo Jarvis has come to the horror-porno soundtrack of the This Is Hardcore album and it speaks to a pandemic-specific version of the dread earlier described on “The Fear”. It mocks and sympathizes at once. When Jarvis yelps, ��Saturday night cabin fever in House Nation,” he sounds like he’s going to the gallows, and we can find the inverse of the release house provides in it, through our Bluetooth speakers, on Zoom, in ragged house clothes, drunk as lords at 2pm, miserably unaware of what day it is. 

May - The 1975 - What Should I Say

In May the new routines started to stick. I accessed government relief, the days were getting longer, the snow was gone. On the weekends, Sheena and I went hiking, something we’d only done sporadically before, usually at the behest of others. Alberta is beautiful. Its countryside provides miles and miles of scenery to explore, and we spent hours outside, escaping the claustrophobia of our little apartment. 

In May, The 1975 released their latest album, Notes on a Conditional Form. It dominated my listening this year, to the point that my Spotify statistics were a little one-note. This album means as much to me as albums that started me on my journey with music, like Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile. It came along at a similar time, I guess, a time in which my brain was working overtime to deal with circumstances and emotions and in which I had endless hours to devote to it. 

In May I fell out with a younger online friend, someone I’d met only once but spoke to every day for months. I have no idea why we fell out. I asked. I didn’t get an answer, I just got unfollowed, and I unfollowed right back. We will never speak again. “What Should I Say” is Matty Healy talking about being cancelled online by younger fans whose brains are developing faster than his, who love him, absorb his influence, and then abruptly reject him. “How do I get out of this? How do I win them back? Do I blame it on the drugs? Circumstance? Ambien makes me crazy, that’s why I said the wrong thing, that’s why you feel this way, please forgive me.”

After releasing Notes on May 22nd, Matty referred to the May 25th murder of George Floyd on his Twitter account, posting a protest song from his last album which includes the lyric “Suffocate the Black man”. His fans did not care for this and dogpiled on him, calling him self-serving, narcissistic, faux-messianic. He has since cut social media out of his life almost completely, returning sporadically to update Reddit fans and allowing his publicist to post official images. I took acid after my friend dumped me and listened to Notes on repeat. The day after, I deleted my old tweets. I won’t engage with younger people in this way again. I’m done trying to court the good opinion of those who don’t understand me or care about me at all. Unlike Matty, I have nothing to gain from this, and it’s really lost its appeal. 

June - Duck Sauce - Captain Duck

I remember the pandemic summer as a golden age. After a few months of it, the pleasure of having wide open days, no responsibilities, no phone calls to make or idiots to impress had fully set in. We kept up hiking until the bugs took over the trails, we took long drives, we took mushrooms, we ate al fresco in Calgary’s outdoor spaces, we went to Fish Creek Park and stuck our feet in the drink. I found I didn’t miss going out as much as I thought I would, this is an opinion I go back and forth on. I miss the good nights so badly, I fully intend to return to nightlife with bells on once it’s safe to do so, but I don’t know how long I’m going to stay. I don’t miss drunk DJ’s, or ones who are so amateurish that they blow the speakers prior to the headliner’s slot, or expensive drinks, or strangers intoxicated on much different drugs than the ones I took talking to and touching me. 

“Captain Duck” is a dancefloor bomb, one of a bumper crop of absolute bangers released this year as clubs closed en masse. Armand Van Helden, who I loved in high school, is doing the best work of his career solo and with his partner in Duck Sauce, A-Trak. “Captain Duck” played when I made ratatouille, when I made cheesecake, when I cleaned the toilet, when we took long drives to nowhere, when we worked out in our cramped living room near the catbox. I imagined it coming on right at 1:30am at a packed club, I imagined myself dropping it at Pacha to a rapturous reception. I fear the reality will not live up to the fantasy, when we are able to return. I hope I get to hear it in its intended setting. 

July - Spotify “Peaceful Summer Nights” playlist

No paradise is permanent. In July, I had no intention of going back to work. Once I finished reading In Search of Lost Time, I started making music again, for the first time since I was a teenager. Sheena and I were painting nearly every night. In Search of Lost Time features a cast of thousands, innumerable loveable characters lovingly realized. No one would read this long, sometimes dull book if it wasn’t deeply pleasurable, and if one couldn’t see oneself in it. There are a lot of characters that you will think about for a long time after you’ve finished the Search, if you read it - Odette de Crecy and the Baron Charlus have inspired endless discussion in formal academic circles and less formal ones, on Reddit and in the living rooms of friends. I saw myself in Elstir, the painter character who is a composite of Whistler, Monet, Harrison, a million other painters and Proust himself. In Elstir we see the mature artist, presented in contrast to Proust’s narrator, whose search for lost time is crucially also a search for his own artistic voice. 

In July, I felt as though I had finally found my artistic voice - with so much time freed up and so much beautiful, heavensent sunlight, all I had to do was concentrate on creating. The music I made is not half bad for an amateur. I found my skill as a painter improving. In a perfect world, I would still be dedicating my days to this. The “Peaceful Summer Nights” playlist would go on at night, we’d put ourselves to sleep to it, it’s one part smooth jazz, one part smoke and study mix. You’ve done your best. You’ve seen the sun. You’ve made things that you might one day publish. I felt like Elstir those days, the aging but still vital artist, the person who is perennially a student, but can easily make a teacher, if you ask the right questions. I go by Elstir online now. I try to access that part of my personality as often as possible, though, unlike Proust, I do not come from a background of means and therefore can’t make my own epic In Search of Lost Time analogue, or my own Guernica. With a universal basic income in place I could be that person, and I hope it happens in our lifetime. 

August - The Knocks & MUNA - Bodies

In August, Dennis came to visit us from Saskatoon, driving out in their car Heather. Heather smells like a grow show and is rammed with belongings in the exact same way that my mother’s car is. We went to the beach. We cooked. We smoked copious amounts of weed and shared music and went to bed drunk and happy. 

This song captures the feeling of that summer, and that trip perfectly. You are alone at sundown, just as the streetlights switch on, 9:05pm. Blue light from the neighbours’ TV flickers out into the street, and you’re fairly sure they’re watching The Simpsons. A skateboard grinds in the distance. You check your phone. You’re horny. You miss your friends. It’s another suburban summer. The sense of peace mixes with the dread, an uneasy combination. This will be over soon, who’s to say what comes next. Take your teenage regressive times when you can get them. You don’t know when they’re coming back. 

September - Modernlove. - Use Me

In September I returned to work after six months off, my longest time away from work since leaving university. I’m a program supervisor now, I run a group home for teenage boys. I have a lot of people asking me questions. I’m good at it, and part of me likes it, but I’m not painting or making music like I used to. I’ve had Marcel Proust’s biography out from the library for months, and I haven’t finished it. 

Modernlove are a copycat band for The 1975. The 1975 have been around for long enough now that their influence is written all over Spotify, and if you like The 1975 and engage with streaming platforms you will find Modernlove. The 1975 have a song called Chocolate, so naturally Modernlove did one called Liquorice. “Use Me,” though, takes that blueprint and goes in a different direction. It’s manic, hysterically anxious - a simp’s anthem. Where The 1975 maintain a baseline level of dignity, Modernlove abandon it completely. The narrator is making himself plain that he will accept the worst, most inhumane treatment his partner can dish out if only he’s allowed to continue to exist with them. The beat is all happy hardcore lunacy, the singer’s voice wavers and cracks. It’s extremely vulnerable. 

This is exactly how I felt being back to work. I was working 12 hour days. I was sitting in endless, very important trainings while dealing with a suicidal client and anxious staff and then reporting to a boss who seemed to think all my hard work was at best a normal work day and at worst pissing into the wind. Use me. I felt used. I made myself available for use. I waited for phone calls from clients at 10pm, who proceeded to tell me about the shits they were going to take when I begged them to stay in the program and away from their drug dealer friends. Use me. You work so goddamn hard to avoid squalor and misery, to keep it from the door, and here it fucking is at 10:00pm when you started work at 6:00am. Elstir has left the building. I’m a simp for money, the worst kind of simp there is. Keep dishing out the punishment and I’ll keep taking it. I have no other choice. CERB has ended. 

October - Charles Webster - The Spell (Burial Mix)

After all that stress, I took a week’s worth of stress leave. I am not the Sicknote Steven type normally, I haven’t had a family doctor since coming to Calgary, I haven’t needed one - the last time I was to a doctor before this year was in 2018, after I picked up flu from an airplane. When I went to the doctor, they took my blood pressure. It was through the roof, and the first time I was anything but low for my age and sex in my life. Why would it not be? I felt my heart jackhammering at my ribcage for three days straight, before I was able to pull myself together enough to operate a vehicle and carry on an adult conversation. 

This happened during the weekend of my birthday. I spent some time in a sensory deprivation tank, took mushrooms, went for dinner with masks on with a few very good friends. I painted. And at the end of my stress leave, I went to meet my boss for a showdown. I said what my boundaries were, and since then, I’ve had a fine time at work. It’s not sitting around the flat all summer painting but for now, it’ll do. 

This song sounds to me like exploration - exploring the same neighbourhood that the Knocks’ “Bodies” takes place in, but with a chill in the air and some colour in the leaves. The pandemic isn’t going anywhere, in fact, it’s about to play its ace. Halloween is cancelled. People were coming to me, asking me questions, but I was able to make space for myself in the liminal spaces I got to spend the whole year occupying up until this point. 

November - The Weeknd - Heartless

A few years ago, I had tweeted during the month of November, “I woke up from a 7pm nap and wondered if we’d already had New Year’s. God I hate winter”. This month was that feeling again, amplified by pandemic conditions and work exhaustion. As is typical for the shoulder seasons in Calgary, the weather vacillated from bitterly cold wintertime air to crisp autumn with no arc or sense of relief. Depression set in. In November I’d organized and was finally able to execute a hotel-room liaison with a friend I’ve flirted with for years. I played this song on repeat to pump myself up for the encounter - it’s a pimp anthem, teeming with sexual menace, crackling with possibility. 

The reality of the situation was not as The Weeknd described. We messed around a little bit. We went to the Canadian Brewhouse. We binged all of The Queen’s Gambit in one go. She bitched about the bathroom facing the bed. I flipped out a little when I couldn’t get the internet to connect. We ordered Skip the Dishes and got the evil eye from the concierge, who was fully aware that we were there to violate new provincial pandemic restrictions. C’est la vie. 

December - Fred again.. - Julia (Deep Diving)

As I’ve said many, many times, I’m not a fan of Christmas. I used to love it, right up until my mid-20s. Why would I not? I was an only child. It was all about me. I received extravagant gifts at Christmas, got days and days of time off, got to get drunk with my friends, hang out with my mom, watch movies. The thing they don’t tell you is that once you’re no longer a cute kid, Christmas takes on a dramatically different meaning. As an adult, there’s always someone coming around to heap extra work on you at Christmas, and insist that you perform it while wearing a stupid fucking sweater or a hat, and demand that you like it.

This year gave others a taste of my baseline experience of Christmas. Work parties conducted through Zoom, wherein tedious and impersonal games are played through apps, leave bad tastes in everyone’s mouths. It’s all very Ready Player One. The dystopia is fully here. But you have to do something. 

In December I let myself become more sentimental. I had an emotional conversation with my mother in which I talked about her relationship to memory and mine, which mirrors Proust’s. I’m in therapy and developing strategies to deal with my seasonal depression and get back to making art while still working. Fred again’s releases this year all feature spoken excerpts from conversations he’s had with his friends in virtual venues. “I’m deep diving into your emotions,” Julia says from afar, maintaining and developing a connection to someone she loves despite many obstacles. I’m depressed. I’ve been a crappy friend this month, I’ve left conversations on read, my sex drive is in the toilet and I’d prefer to be invisible. But I want to connect with you as best I can, in the limited capacity we’re afforded. 

2020 - The 1975 - I Think There’s Something You Should Know

One of the things I love about The 1975 is that their music is iterative, their songs follow plot threads that advance from album to album. On “Robbers,” the narrator, deep in infatuation, describes his lover as having a face straight out of a magazine. One album later the luster has worn off of the love object, and the face straight out of a magazine now just looks like anyone. 

“I Think There’s Something You Should Know” is described by Matty Healy as a direct sequel to their most famous song, “Somebody Else”. “Somebody Else” is emo R&B, it’s about addiction and identity, and about the ways in which one’s personality can come to be distorted by devotion to a substance or a person, and how one finds their way back to themselves once the drugs don’t work, or the perfect lover has become someone you hope to never see again. 

“I Think There’s Something You Should Know” builds on that theme, but this time, the conflict isn’t about a person or a drug. It’s the feeling of idealized performance versus lived reality, the dissonance that one feels in the middle of impostor syndrome. When I listened to this song on our acid trip in May, I pictured an idealized version of myself in a camel coat and a cashmere sweater, with new leather gloves and a clean black car. The song feels like good cologne in the way it envelopes and embraces the listener. It seems to be able to tell the future. The paradox, then, is that it’s all about self-doubt. “I don’t feel like myself, I’m not gonna lie,” Matty sings, fully aware that he’s forgotten what feeling like himself even is. The song’s narrator is someone who is functioning at the absolute top of their game while being completely sure that they have no business being where they are. 

The year has been a paradox, and it’s left me in a position reflected perfectly in these lyrics. In some ways I’m incredibly competent, in some ways I’ve moved past mental health issues that have set me back for years. But I’m emotional, raw, exhausted. Social media and COVID have given me ADHD, I can’t keep a thought in my head. I have no idea if the people I’m talking to think I’m right on the money, or completely full of shit. And yet, somehow, I am where I am, and the police haven’t arrived to cart me off to jail. My boss blows endless smoke up my ass when before I was terrified of her. I do what I say I’m going to do. I ask the right questions. I think there’s something you should know, and that’s that I think I’m wrong about most things. That I think people are worth our effort and that communities are worth building, but that individuals have the potential to do reprehensible, incomprehensible and unforgivable things. I’m beside myself with relief that this year is over, but I highly, highly doubt that next year is going to be some great leap forward. We have a lot of work to do, and I’ll help to the best of my abilities, but I need to be allowed to be alone, to decompress, to self-destruct as a form of recreation, and to create things. This year has traumatized me and all of us, and my post-pandemic brain is one that’s responding to trauma. In some ways, I’m dramatically better, and better off. In other ways, I’m sicker than I was. This is true of you too. Let’s talk about it. 

My favourite albums of the year:

The 1975 - Notes on a Conditional Form

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia

Pole - Fading

Ana Roxanne - Because of a Flower

Teen Daze - Reality Refresh series

Sparkle Division - To Feel Embraced

Jake Muir - the veiled hum of your voice

Moodymann - Taken Away

The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Mosaic of Transformation

Sevdaliza - Shabrang

DJ Boring - Like Water

Actress - Karma and Desire

Avalon Emerson - DJ-Kicks

DaBaby - Blame It On Baby

Duval Timothy - Help

Velocette - Discotheque Saudades

Jex Opolis - Net Worth Pantha du Prince - Conference of Trees

Four Tet - Sixteen Oceans

Caribou - Suddenly

Megan Thee Stallion - Good Newz

Romeo Poirier - Hotel Nota

Southern Shores - Siena

The Weeknd - After Hours

Tensnake - L.A. 

Kylie Minogue - DISCO

The Avalanches - We Will Always Love You

Nonlocal Forecast - Holographic Universe(s?)!

My favourite songs of the year: 

Love Regenerator - Moving, Rina Sawayama - Comme des Garcons, Rina Sawayama - Lucid, Megan Thee Stallion - Savage (Diplo Remix), Phony Ppl ft. Megan Thee Stallion - Fkn Around, SG Lewis ft. Robyn & Channel Tres - Impact, The Midnight - Neon Medusa, Dua Lipa - Break My Heart (Moodymann Remix), Dua Lipa - Hallucinate (Tensnake Remix), Blue Hawaii - Feelin’, Tensnake - Strange Without You (Sunnery James & Ryan Marciano Remix), Disclosure ft. Mick Jenkins - Who Knew? (DJ Seinfeld Remix), A-Trak & Ferreck Dawn - Coming Home, Robyn - Baby Forgive Me (Floorplan Remix), Robots With Rayguns - IWD4U, Southern Shores - Estrisa, Lindstrom & Prins Thomas - Limousine Lies, Sophie Ellis-Bextor - Crying At the Discotheque, Hot Chip ft. Jarvis Cocker - Straight to the Morning, Bonobo & Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs - Heartbreak, Moodymann - Do Wrong, BT & Matt Fax - 1AM in Paris, Kiesza - Love Me With Your Lie, Tritonal ft. Linney - Electric Kids, Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure?, Roisin Murphy - Murphy’s Law, Kllo - Somehow, DaBaby - Rockstar, Diplo, SIDEPIECE - On My Mind, City Girls - Jobs, Greg Foat - Yonaguni, HAIM - I Know Alone, Sassy 009 - Ghost Town, Yves Tumor - Limerence, RAMZi - couer dodo, Jayda G - Both of Us, Kygo, Valerie Broussard - The Truth, Kelly Lee Owens - Night, Dagny - Somebody, L’tric - 1994, The Japanese House - Chewing Cotton Wool, Amtrac ft. Lali Puna - No Place, Eris Drew - Transcendental Access Point, David Guetta ft. Sia - Let’s Love, Armand Van Helden ft. Lorne - Give Me Your Loving, Pet Shop Boys - Monkey Business, Pale Blue - I Walk Alone At Night, Yumi Zouma - Cool For a Second

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 9 of 21

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Daring Do

and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

And

Carmen Pondiego

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2015 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images provided that I receive a copy of each image for my archive. 

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

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Jeremy had out a small telescope and was scanning the shore as the Sea Sage and her escort river monitor pulled into the channel leading to the Dunn See.  He was focusing on the dock that should have been theirs.  Cranes aboard the motor ship were lowering modern looking motor trucks to the dock.

They had no trouble getting the trucks to the dock.  It was the other cargo that was already unloaded that was the problem.  There was no room for the trucks to get clear of the dock.

Jeremy was chuckling as he watched a pony from the ship stride confidently up to the Longshore Pony in charge, a bulging sack in hoof.

There was an altercation.  The dockworkers began to shift the cargo about so that as much was moved to a warehouse as possible while still blocking the trucks from moving.

As their position blocked the view, Soree, standing beside Jeremy, and using field glasses, said, “I can tell by how you chuckled, that you were expecting something like that.  Why?”

Without hesitation, Jeremy said, “I was given lessons last night in the etiquette of bribery and some other issues of courtesy.  Especially of the bowing.

“I was dead wrong about everything.  Qushi Han Le set me straight on it.  I got my first practical lesson by watching Mister Overthrow try to bribe the Dockworkers.

“He started off by not bowing at all.  That is bad.  Then he publicly asked the lead pony to name his price!  That finished THAT.  There is courtesy involved.  ROT seems really short of it.  Even shorter than I was!”

Daring Do had silently joined them.  “That is for sure.  So, Qushi paid you a visit?”

“Yes.  I am alive right now because of you, Doctor Do.  She could have killed me herself and let me know it.  She spared me because she respects you and, by bringing me along, you showed her that you valued me.

“Instead of killing me, she taught me about bribes and bowing.  It put a lot of what you recommended for reading into sharp perspective.”

The busy shoreline and waters of the port were falling behind, to be replaced by the busy waterfront of the residential parts of Singapone.  The shipping channel was clear of any but the proper river cargo traffic but over in the shallows by the many homes and estates of the well to do, was what appeared to be a mad house of dinghies, sampans and other craft too numerous and tightly packed to sort out.

Soree was having delightful time sketching and writing in her journal.  “Look!  The ponies that live near the water don’t have to go shopping!  Those boats are ALL selling things!”

Jeremy watched with wonder as a rickety dock crowded with buyers was swarmed about with small boats selling everything from seaweeds, hay and grain from up river, to fish, crafts, pots and pans and other goods beyond number.

His eye now alerted to the courtesy issues, Jeremy saw how a boat with the goods that a buyer wanted was signaled for and a bow offered at the same time.

Daring Do looked on and listened as he muttered, “I see.  Wave is I want you, bow is for respect to merchant.   Return bow recognizes and pays respect to the buyer.  It all flows from that.”

Daring Do nodded agreement and said, “Soree, are you following what Jeremy is pointing out?  This is important to know.”

Soree held up her pen and replied, “What Qushi Han Le  thought important enough to teach in that way, I have been recording most carefully.”

Jeremy paused, embarrassed.

The Sea Sage forged on up river accompanied by the iron clad river monitor with its massive, slope sided turrets carrying two guns each.  Jeremy pointed to the characters painted on its bow and stern.  “Do those really mean 'Flower of Peace?'” he asked, incredulously.  

Soree looked up from her latest sketch and nodded.  “They really do mean that.  Peaceful Flower would be a good reading too.  It is an example of the Chineighese ironic thought.”

Daring Do looked on with a smile, proud of her students and their developing skills.  Down close to the water’s edge, there was a road.  That drew Soree’s eye.  “If there is a road, wouldn’t it be faster to take it rather than ride the ship up stream?”

Daring Do smiled almost evilly as she replied, “If you were from Equestria, where roads are the main transportation arteries, you might think so.  Those roads are for river bank maintenance and for salvage gear transport in the event of a river or canal accident.

“The Chineighese Empire is held together by the most modern and advanced system of river, canal and railroad transport that I am aware of.”  She made a fluttering gesture with her hoof.  “Roads, except near cities, not so much. They only feed the harvest, mine and factory goods to the canals and railroads.

“I suspect that ROT will be finding out all about that, really soon.”

Her brows drawn down in vee of thought and concentration, Soree asked, “Why would they make a blunder like that?  Your book on the Darkling Expedition and your official reports make it clear that you really couldn’t manage with modern trucks.”

Daring Do tried and failed to look innocent as she stared over the rail at the road along the shoreline.  “It MIGHT have something to do with the expedition proposal that I gave them as part of the negotiations before we agreed to disagree.”

Lights dawned in the expressions of both Jeremy and Soree.  With a giggle, Soree put it into words. “You knew that you weren’t going to work for them so you set them up!”

A quiet nod was her only answer.

Jeremy was watching the shoreline scene more carefully now.  “Look!  There are the trucks of the ROT expedition!  They are going to pass us really soon.  What will slow them down?”

Soree pointed ahead a fair ways up river, where a canal came down through a lock to the river.  The bridge, at the lock, was a high, steeply arched affair.  They could all see foot traffic crossing the bridge in both directions.

While they watched, a cart rose up from the far side of the bridge and descended slowly to the road by the canal.  There, a pair of Chineighese ponies in flat, conical hats, hitched to it and pulled it to a waiting warehouse.  While they were doing that, another, seemingly identical cart came across the bridge.  It too, was pulled to the warehouse.  

Jeremy, watching closely, pointed out, “There is a rail spur leading to the warehouse!”

Soree retorted, “I am more interested in how those carts are crossing the bridge without anypony pulling them!”

That was answered as the Sea Sage drew nearer to the lock.  Alongside the canal was a heavy water mill that was driving the the cargo moving mechanism.  A cart was pulled from where the canal boat was being unloaded.  The ponies pulling it hauled it into guides and unhitched.  The mechanism, driven by the water mill, snagged the cart and carried it up and over the steep arch of the bridge to similar guides that freed the cart to be hauled away.

Suddenly Jeremy brayed laughter. “That bridge isn’t made for trucks at all!”

That simple prophecy was borne out by the arrival of ROT’s trucks.  There was nothing that those on the ship could hear, but plenty to see!  The swarm of ponies in their flat conical straw hats, the obviously important lock officials and the drivers of the trucks all in a right tangle!

The mess disappeared astern as the small convoy sailed serenely upriver!  Dining on the afterdeck later, Jeremy snorted his amusement.  “If their bribing skills are as good as they were at the dock, they are still going to be there tomorrow!”

Soree giggled at the memory of the trucks being neatly blocked by cargo.

Nearly to the busy river port of Cantrot the Flower of Peace suddenly accelerated!  A steam siren blasting for emergency right of way, the iron clad roared upriver, her wake smashing in waves on the shore and putting smaller craft at risk.

The Sea Sage was being pulled into her dock when the echoing reports of heavy gunfire came rolling faintly back downriver.   Emergency boats, that always had steam up, blasted a cacophony of warning whistles and cast off, charging up river toward the sounds of battle.

The port went about its business as if nothing was happening.

The Sea Sage safely secured to the dock, Daring Do led the way down the gangplank and into a port office.

Jeremy and Soree were watching curiously as Daring Do approached the official behind the desk.  She bowed the bow of equals as she offered, “Good sir, while I do know that we must pay the proper fees for our port clearance and further travel permits, I would first ask your assistance.”  She hoofed over a golden cash and the first few of a substantial sheaf of papers.  “I have learned that wherever paper work is involved, there are subtleties that one such as myself does not grasp.  What I would have of your great experience, is to explain these to me in detail so that I make no error of ignorance in the future.”

Smiling broadly, he gave a small duck of his head and began.  He laid out the papers before him on the shabby desk blotter and began to go through them in detail.  

Each new batch of papers was preceded by its coin.  At the end of the exchange, the official smiled up at Soree and Jeremy and asked, “I hope that the lesson given you by Doctor Do was well learned?”

Surprised, but having had a powerful lesson already, Jeremy bowed deeply from the waist, and Soree, seeing him do so, did herself.  “We did learn well, good Port Master.  You were a teacher of excellent wisdom.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

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[fortunatelychaoticphantom]

She-Ra and the Inherently Good Protagonist

I absolutely love She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, but there’s something that’s been bothering me for a long time. I’m talking about the Horde lying to Adora and the rest of the recruits about their true mission and the war and about the rebels/resistance. Logically, there is no reason whatsoever for them to do that. Why would you lie to your soldiers about something that they are going to see first hand soon enough in the field and know it’s a lie? Not only that, but as we see throughout the show, most members of the Horde do know the truth or, like Catra, don’t particularly care about it when they find out. So why lie in the first place?

(Long-ass meta ahead; some spoilers for She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Carmen Sandiego, Captain Marvel, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and The Force Awakens)

Unfortunately, the only conceivable reason for it is to make Adora redeemable. Because Adora didn’t know, she thought the rebels were evil, she thought she was on the good side. And that way, once faced with the truth, she would so very easily and very quickly be able with little to no regret or fight to join the real good side.

Now, this is unfortunately something that I’m seeing more and more. Carmen in the new Carmen Sandiego remake has a similar story. Captain Marvel has it too. In all these stories there is an element of authoritarian organizations lying to the protagonist (or even to all member of the organization like in Carmen) about their true nature, which enables said protagonist to defect once realizing the truth. Another important element in these stories, which goes to make the lying part all the more absurd, is the immersion of the protagonist in the culture and environment of the authoritarian organization and the protagonists relative isolation from any member of the extraneous groups they work against.

The protagonists know only life within the moral borders of the cultures they live in. Both Carmen and Adora were raised from infancy by evil organizations in enclosed areas that consists only members of those organizations. They had no prior cultural references with which they had to battle with, they were a clean slate to be molded into the perfect members of their respective societies (thieves and general evil doers for profit in the first case and conquerors in the second). In the case of Carol Danvers it’s a little more complicated, since she wan’t born into the Kree. Her memories were pretty much erased but I am not exactly sure how much of her personality and moral compass were intact after they took her. But either way, at that point of her life she was Kree. Kree life was the only thing she knew (anyone who knows better is welcome to correct me on this). She is also unique in that she is the only one who is being lied to, as opposed to Adora and Carmen, so I’m including her here with a major asterisk as her story has both glaring similarities and important differences that should be taken into account.

I have written about this issue in Carmen before. Back then I said: “there isn’t a single logical reason for an entire criminal organization to lie to everyone of its recruits only to reveal to them at the end that they aren’t evil, they are EXTRA evil”, and it applies to She-Ra as well. If everyone in, let’s call it, “active duty” is well aware of the truth (they are hurting people for profit/they are conquering the planet and killing innocent people/they just don’t like that specific alien race? Honestly I’m not sure I understood what the Kree wanted...), there is no reason for them not to tell their members the truth from the beginning. Since it doesn’t serve the organizations at all, again it leads us to the understanding that it’s only there For The Plot, which is... not the best writing.

There is one thing I can say in favor of this plot device. For that I’ll need to talk about another show - you guessed it - Avatar the Last Airbender. Zuko might be the greatest and most cohesive example of a villain learning the truth about the actions of their side of the war and choosing to defect and help bring it down. The thing is, this process took him two and a half seasons out of the three the show had. I guess we can’t really expect a show called She-Ra or a show called Carmen to take more than two seasons before the protagonists after which the shows are called realize they might be on the wrong side, and this device is very effective in order to jump start the actual plot.

Now, I say “guess” because honestly, that kind of a show would have been fascinating to watch and because it leads me to the most problematic aspect of this plot device; Even though they were raised/nurtured by villainous people, Adora, Carmen and Carol are somehow morally superior to all those around them and are capable of discerning right from wrong even though no one thought them that distinction for absolutely no reason at all besides them being the heroes of the story. Like I said about Carmen: “Instead of making it a process of growth and understanding the consequences of her actions, she is just inherently good and better than anyone around her because of Reasons and plot convenience”. (I would throw in Finn from the Star Wars sequels here as well, but very carefully. He also has many similarities to this plot line - being raised from infancy in a racist authoritarian dictatorship. But even though I love him very much, I still don’t really understand the reason for his defection in TFA - I think he just didn’t want to die? His struggle to do the right thing in the first movie distinguishes him from Adora, Carmen and Carol, but on the other hand he isn’t a part of the evil forces at all from pretty much the minute we meet him, so he doesn’t exactly fit this mold, though it’s an interesting comparison)

This sort of notion is not only an easy trick to make us care about these characters, but it’s a very dangerous and toxic idea that implies that some people are inherently good and others are inherently evil. It ignores the intricate way in which all of us are victims of propaganda, some of which could take years to even notice exist. Nearing 30, I, a woman living in a democratic relatively western country, still find new ways in which misogyny is so ingrained into me by decades of socialization, consumerism and education. To think that a person who lives in an isolated racist dictatorship would have some magic immunity to all its propaganda, and that the process of getting out of these dark dark paces isn’t full of obstacles and doubts and mistakes is distorting our perception about real people in similar situations going through this process right now.

Going back to Zuko’s example, you could say that the fact he wasn’t the protagonist at all but the antagonist in the first season is what enabled him to have a much more rounded process of changing sides and gave him the time to change and grow. But, like I said, watching the protagonist of a show go though this process of unlearning propaganda could be amazing to watch. But the thing I love most about Zuko’s story is that he isn’t inherently good. Sure, he has always been compassionate and values life (at least those of his own people), but his morality wasn’t superior to every single one of his nation. He was arrogant, aggressive, and was not at all ignorant to the actions of the Fire Nation (though maybe he didn’t fully understand their consequences). He truly believed his people are better, and that by their conquest they are making the world better. Whether he particularly cared about the second part is not important. What is important is that while he was fed this propaganda all his life, he wasn’t clueless as to the violent nature of his own and his nation’s actions. What he did learn along the way was that “better” is not an objective definition, and that instead of being “grateful” everyone hated the Fire Nation for the suffering they bring and that maybe war is not the best course of action. He learned that by meeting these people, his enemies, and experiencing their lives.

Adora, Carmen and Carol have these moments too (and they are wonderful) of coming close to their enemies and understanding them (it’s not exactly enemies in Carmen’s case but the general population of the world I guess..,). But it acts more as a shorthand for an actual process and because of the lies they have been fed and their “inherent goodness” they have little to no struggle to renounce their former ways and quickly jump ship and join the opposing forces. Zuko, on the other hand, struggles. Oh, lord, he struggles. He steals from the first person who shows him compassion. He joins forces with “good” people (as much as you can call Jet good) out of necessity or simply for selfish reasons. He struggles and fails and relapses and makes mistakes upon mistakes upon mistakes before he is able to move forward. And even then he makes more mistakes. He is bad at being good because no one taught him how to be good, so he has to learn it almost from scratch and that’s what makes it worth it. It makes it seem like it’s achievable, like it’s something that could happen in real life. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’s better.

I am not saying that She-Ra doesn’t have much more nuance than that. We see how Catra struggles with her choices, the confusion and abuse that pushes her again and again further into the dark. The same goes to the other shows and movies. What I am saying is that this specific plot device on it’s own about an ignorant protagonist being lied to for no in-story logical reason besides enabling them to easily change sides has a very toxic and dangerous side that we need to pay attention to.

[yrpspiritsintheshadows]

Real Monsters

Real Monsters 

Hideki didn’t go back into the classroom after that. Eiji wasn’t about to make him do it either. Instead, to give the kid his space, he let him sit out while he took care of last minute arrangements.

“Is Hideki okay?” a student asked.

“He…. He will. Just give him time, that was a pretty bad scare. Are you guys alright?” Eiji answered.

The other students shook their heads or simply looked away.

“We’re fine.”

“I-I’m good, Teach, honest.”

Eiji nodded, sighing heavily.

“I want you guys to finish up the book this week. I want a two page essay about it as well. About the world of the book and similarities you can find to our world and its world.”

“Yessir!”

“Good.” He glanced at the clock. He had just a few more minutes left. He hurried about, getting his things packed up while his students kept reading, albeit silently. “I’m very sorry for how things turned out today.”

“I-It’s fine. Right?”

“Yeah!”

He smiled softly. 

“You guys are the best students I could’ve hoped for.”

Soon enough, the bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. Eiji hurried out before everyone else, this once.

Hideki was still waiting, knees tucked up to his chest.

“Kid?”

He looked up, exhaustion in the boys eyes.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah…” He got up, dusting himself off. “You… You still mean what you said?”

Eiji squeezed his shoulder, giving him a reassuring look.

“Meant every word.”

Hideki sighed shakily. He was still in shock from what had happened.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

Eiji started to lead him down the hall, hefting his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“You already did enough by being honest with me. It’s my job, as the adult and your teacher to make sure you’re okay.” 

Hideki gave him a tired grin.

“Like mandated reports apply to what happened to us…” He muttered loud enough to be heard.

“We’ll see about that. I know a few people. Some people owe me favors.”

The boy gave him a bewildered look. He never pegged his English teacher of all people, as someone anyone owed. Even being slightly aware of what he did as a part time job.

Just… who is this guy?

Eiji made a mental note to call the team later. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was worried about scaring the boy he would’ve hunted Chase down right then and there.

Right now, his paternal side was taking over mainly.

Come to think of it… He looked him over out of the corner of his eye. When was the last time he ate…?

It was right out to his car after that.

“Where are we going?”

“First off, anyone looking after you currently?”

Hideki shook his head, giving a sheepish look.

“I’m pretty good at forging signatures nowadays.”

Eiji frowned, concern going through him.

“You haven’t had any decent food in awhile, have you?”

Hideki fumbled with his fingers, giving a shrug.

“The free food’s pretty good here. The lunch lady sometimes gives me food in a lunch sack and tells me it’s on her.”

Eiji winced before unlocking the car, gesturing to the passenger side.

“Get your butt in the car, we’re getting you food on the way and we’re heading to my house.”

Hideki got in, giving him a puzzled look.

“Don’t you mean your headquarters?” He asked. 

Eiji pulled out of the parking lot, turning his focus to the road.

“Yep. My house. We live up in the woods. It’s a pretty huge house with a fairly giant garage. I use that as my office… and training course.”

Hideki blinked in confusion.

“... Those parkour rumors are real?”

“E’yep.”

“... Just who are you, seriously?”

“Just a guy who wants the best for others.”

It’s a good thing Carmen’s doing pick up today. 

oooooo

Eiji pulled into his driveway, sighing in relief at the familiar sight of home. 

"Here we are. Casa De Miyamoto."

Hideki got out of the car, looking around in curiosity. The house was quite large, as the man had said, at least three levels. A large stairway lead to what he assumed was the main floor, the garage was far off to the side, attached to the building.

It looked older, the bricks all a multitude of color, the paint a dark grey, almost black color. The roof, from what the boy could see, was painted pure black as well.

He was stunned to say the least. 

"How many people live here?"

"Me, Carmen, our son and the dog. But we wanted plenty of room and... yeah." He chuckled, heading up the deck's staircase, pulling out his house key. "C'mon, you'll love it. Wait till you see the kitchen - you're in cooking club aren't ya?"

"Y-Yeah." 

Hideki shook off his surprise, heading up the stairs after him, looking around. Not a neighbor for miles. Only the woods surrounded the home, almost enveloping it in its embrace, tree limbs growing in front of large windows, the faint call of birds echoing.

This guy... This guy lives somewhere as cool as this?

The boy leaned over the rail, peering down at the forest floor below. They didn’t need a backyard. The entire woods was their yard.

He closed his eyes, focusing. The forest had energy in it as well. The spirits of the trees and the faint hint of something old… something ancient, all around.

Beautiful.

He opened his eyes, smiling a little.

“Wow…”

“OOF!”

THUD!

The boy jumped, whirling around… trying not to laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Eiji was flat on his back, being licked by Okami, the large dog practically enveloping him.

“ACK! Ahahaha OKAMI! Down girl!”

She whined, bumping her head against his, licking him again.

“Down, down! Where’s your puppy, huh?” He rubbed behind her ears, earning a tail wag from the canine. 

“I’m here!”

Eiji was just getting up when he was tackled down again by Ken, the little boy giggling up a storm.

“Oof! Nooo!” He laughed, lifting him up so Ken was mid air a bit. “I’ve been attacked by the cutest paranormal investigator ever!”

Ken giggled.

“And the toughest!”

“Darn right.” Eiji brought him close, finally getting back to his feet. “We got a guest too.”

Ken blinked, looking behind him at Hideki. 

The teenager waved a little.

“Hey.” He knelt down to Ken’s level as the boy was set down. “My name’s Hideki.” 

“I’m Ken.” The boy tilted his head. “Are you a friend of my daddy’s?”

“I’m his student, actually. Your dad’s my English teacher.” He frowned a little. “He’s… He’s gonna help me.”

Ken frowned before recognition came to his eyes. He didn’t say it out loud but he could see it now.

He could see the dead couple all too well in the boy before him… and quite literally as they manifested behind him.

Ken scurried behind Eiji, giving them a terrified look.

Eiji patted his head.

“Go inside. It’s okay, Kiddo. Go tell your mom I need to talk to her.”

“Okay, Daddy. C’mon ‘Kami.”

Eiji shook his head, watching them run off. 

“C’mon, Kiddo, make yourself at home.”

Hideki followed him, shuddering as a cold chill brushed past him. He looked around, curious, before hurrying to the kitchen.

He swore he wanted to cry, right then and there. It looked as if it was from a restaurant.

“Oh my GOSH! Does that stove have two ovens!?”

“And a fish grill.”

“Seriously, who the heck are you!?”

He chuckled, watching Hideki go around the kitchen, looking at everything. The boy’s eyes were wide in wonder, examining every inch of the room.

“You really like cooking, don't you?”

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.” He admitted, with a sheepish smile. 

“Here’s a secret - it’s one of my favorite things to do too.”  Eiji grinned.

Seriously, who is this guy?

“Eiji?”

They both looked over as Carmen entered the room, concern in her eyes. Ken was beside her, holding onto her right hand.

“Ah, mi amor!” Eiji hurried to her, kissing her cheek. “Sorry for the suddenness but we have a guest.”

Hideki bowed his head quickly.

“M-My names Hideki. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miyamoto.”

“Hey, no need for that missus stuff.” Carmen gave him a gentle smile. “Just call me Carmen.”

“O-Okay.” 

Carmen’s gaze softened.

“Please, make yourself at home.” She moved to the fridge, peering inside. “Have you eaten yet?”

Hideki shook his head.

“N-Not since lunch. I usually don’t…” He fumbled with his hands, ashamed as his stomach growled. “Have… dinner.” He mumbled the last part.

This is so embarrassing… Guh, I’m such a weakling-

“Stop that.”

Hideki jumped, looking up. Carmen was giving him a stern look as she pulled out a container of food.

“Your not a burden. I know that look.”

“H-How?”

She thumbed to her husband, who gave a sheepish look.

“This idiota, gives me the same look when he thinks he’s not helping out enough. You’re a kid. I got this.” She opened up the container, peering inside. It was one of the lunches she had prepped for the week for Eiji to take to work. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nope. I can eat pretty much anything.” He went to her, looking inside. He could see grilled chicken, some kind of pasta salad and… his stomach growled. A little section had several large cherries.

Carmen slid the container to him, along with a fork.

“Eat up.”

Hideki didn’t hesitate this time, tucking in at a rapid pace.

Ohhh gosh this is amazing. The chicken’s smokey and charred a little, the tomatoes are just weeping with flavor from the vinaigrette and… is this garlic? Ohhh this is good…

The boy wiped at his eyes quickly. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything like this. Even the school lunches didn’t compare. Sure, it was simple, but it had those personal touches. 

Carmen stroked his shoulder.

“Eat as much as you want.” She pulled out two more containers. “Here, the first one you’ll have to heat up, just take the lid off the box, It’s chicken alfredo pasta and the other one is a sandwich with some potato salad.”

“T-Thank you.” He smiled a little, going back to his meal.

Carmen squeezed his shoulder before going to Eiji, tugging him away a little.

“Kenny, can you keep Hideki company while he eats?”

“Si, Mommy!” Ken sped off to join the teenager, leaving the adults alone.

Carmen waited until she heard the boys start to talk, turning to her husband.

“Do I need to make up a room?”

Eiji nodded, sighing heavily. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

The truth needed to be out there.

“His parents are dead and his twin brother is missing. He’s been trying to look after himself but had no idea where to go. His parents haunted my classroom today trying to get my attention.” 

Carmen covered her mouth, eyes going wide.

“What…? Eiji, that’s awful!” 

“I know… I hope it’s okay that he stays with us. I’m gonna get to the bottom of this. One way or another.”

“We’ll need to get Skyler involved.” Carmen crossed her arms, concerned. “He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Eiji nodded, looking to the kitchen. Ken was sitting next to Hideki, prattling on about something, the older boy still wolfing down his food, on the second container now.

“He hasn’t had it easy.”

“No, he hasn’t.” Carmen narrowed her eyes. “And if he doesn’t have anyone to take him in when this is all over?”

Eiji took her hands into his. 

“Carmen… What are you comfortable with?”

If I was dead… and someone I knew was coven born could take care of Ken, if there was no one else… No one else at all? 

She had resented the dead couple for the terror they had put Ken through… but knowing WHY they were here…

She could empathize.

Carmen squeezed Eiji’s hands, giving him a serious look.

“If we died and there was no one for Ken, absolutely no one…. I’d want someone to take care of him and make him happy. I’d want someone to try to preserve what would be left of his innocence. We should be those people to make him happy.” 

Eiji smiled softly, bringing her hands to his lips, kissing them.

“You’re incredible…” He gave her a warm look before pulling her into his arms. “Goddess above, I love you so much.”

Carmen hugged him tightly, kissing his chin.

“I love you too Eiji.” She pulled back a bit. “It’s a good thing your parents insisted on giving us the house, eh?”

He chuckled, resting his chin atop her head.

“... Yeah. Yeah it is, isn’t it?”

“Yup… Now…” She gave him a sneaky look. “I need you to go to the storage room and get the extra quilts for the guest room.”

“B-But it’s cold up there!”

“I’ll rub your back later.”

Eiji hugged her quickly.

“Be right back!”

oooooo 

“Thanks for coming at such short notice, Sky.” Eiji ushered the woman in, semi-relieved. 

“No worries. Anything for a kid.” She gave him a gentle look. “This is exactly why I do this job… But you know, if things get too hairy…”

“We’ll involve authorities. No worries about that.”

“Great… and if he doesn’t have family?” 

“Try to get him placed with us. Me and Carmen already talked about it.” 

Skyler nodded, following him to the family room, heading through the first hallway.

It was the sun room initially before they had converted it. Night had fallen by this point as the gentle glowing lamps inside illuminated the room.

There were several large chairs, including a massive bean bag chair near one of the bookshelves, a few small altars to the four elements set on end tables on the four corners of the room.

Ken was currently sitting with Hideki, huddled up to the teens side as the older boy read to him.

“Is Edmond gonna make it, Deki?” He whispered, briefly interrupting him.

Hideki smiled, turning the page.

“We’ll have to see kiddo.”

“Yay!”

He was finally able to relax. After the feast that was early dinner, Hideki had been allowed free reign of the house to look around and just get used to his new surroundings.

He was still getting used to this, it had been a while since… he actually could just be calm and be a kid again.

It had been awhile since…

“HIDEKI RUN! JUST RUN!!!!”

“M-Mom, what’s happening!? Why are they doing this!?”

“Hikaru, go! MOVE IT!”

Since everything was taken…

“Hideki?”

The boys looked up. Hideki was confused, seeing there was a new person with Eiji now.

She was just a head shorter than him, wearing the same hoodie he did with the PACK insignia, her long curly hair was tied back in a ponytail, keeping it out of her face. She had concern in her eyes.

Hideki opened his mouth to question this, only to be interrupted by Ken bolting right to her.

“AUNTIE SKY!!!!” The little boy squealed, throwing his arms around her legs. 

Skyler’s gaze softened, scooping him up.

“Awww, hi baby!” She ruffled up his hair before leaning him backwards, earning another squeal as Ken started giggling up a storm. “How’s my favorite little nephew?”

“I’m good!” He hugged her around her neck, giving her a nuzzle. “Are you here to do investigation stuff?”

“Some. Mostly my other job though.”

Ken pouted.

“Awwww…”

Skyler nuzzled him.

“But we can play plenty when work is over. I’m still taking you to the park on Sunday, yeah?”

“Yeah!” 

“Then we’ll play then.” She kissed his head. “Now, the grownups gotta do some adulting.”

Eiji offered his arms for his son as Skyler pouted.

“Sky.” 

“But… But Eiiiijjiiii!” She hugged the six year old close. “He’s my nephew! I missed my favorite lil guy!”

“Yeah, I missed my auntie!” 

Eiji gave a dramatic sigh, bringing a hand over his eyes.

“I… suppose you must… I guess I’ll just have to eat the papico I bought yesterday aaallllll alone.”

Ken was wiggling to get out of Skyler’s arms in seconds.

“Papico!”

Skyler groaned, passing the boy back to his father.

“Auuugh, beaten by ice cream. I can’t compete with sugar, obviously.”

Ken smiled, nuzzling Eiji.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“And I love you, Little Spirit.” He cradled him a bit, before turning to Hideki. “Deki? We wanted to get some info from you if that’s okay. This is an old friend of mine.” 

At the confused look he got, he nodded to her.

“My name is Skyler. Eiji’s been one of my best friends since we were in high school. I was also one of the founding members of our paranormal team… but I’m not here just for that.” She went up to Hideki, kneeling in front of his chair.

“What are you here for then?” Hideki set his book aside, crossing his arms.

“I’m a social worker. Specifically, for your kind, kiddo.” She smiled. “I know all about the other side of Fantasma County. I’ve been tight with Eiji’s family that long that I dedicated my life to it.”

“... What?” 

“I wanna help. Right now, that help means if you’re comfortable, we can talk a bit about the situation. Then later, we’ll gather up the team so we can make sure you… and your brother, have a place.” Skyler explained, noting the terror that went through Hideki’s eyes at the last part. 

“I don’t wanna get separated from Hikaru!” He blurted out. “I don’t wanna get sent away from Geistville!” 

“And you won’t, you won’t sweetie. Is there anyone I can get my people to place you and Hikaru with when we get him back?”

Hideki frowned, shaking his head.

“Nope. No one. No one else but me and my brother.” He looked down, fidgeting with his hands. “If there were, I’d have gone to them.” 

“Oh, sweetie…” She frowned. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been pretty scary.”

“Yeah…” His voice cracked as he lowered his head. “I… I just want my parents to rest in peace. They won’t leave until they know we’re both okay.”

“Then… we’ll make sure. And you two won’t be separated again. I promise you that.” She gave him a reassuring look. “I’ve helped lots of kids just like you, Hideki. No one’s gonna cause you any more pain if me and the team have a say in it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Only tell what your comfortable with though. But I do need some things in particular.”

“L-Like?”

Eiji set Ken down, going to him again, sitting in a chair near him.

“Like your parents’ names. That way we know something about them to help them cross.”

Hideki frowned, sighing heavily.

“Aika and Daisuke… Aika and Daisuke Kishimoto.” He said after a moment. “We moved here from Tokyo, when Hikaru and I were really little.” 

“Thank you.” 

Skyler jotted it down.

Hideki brought his arms around himself. He didn’t want to talk more about it… It hurt so badly to even say their names out loud.

But it was for his brother. So he would at least still have one member of his family alive still.

Hideki closed his eyes tightly, biting his lip.

Eiji brought an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey… We can go over this a different day, Hideki. You don’t have to right now. We still got leads to uncover-”

“No.” He sighed shakily. “I… I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” Hideki took a deep breath, before giving a serious look. 

“Mom and Dad were murdered.”

[pokemon-legends-and-legacies]

Fankids With Gold/Silver Demo Pokémon: Carmen & Gal

Carmen and Animon

As mentioned in my previous post, somehow all of Ethan’s children end up with pokemon from the demo. In Carmen’s chase, she has a similar experience to Draco when a previously assumed to be normal pokemon suddenly evolves into something… odd. Carmen caught her Ditto, Squishy, completely by chance. The little pink blob someone managed to disguise itself as her other pokemon for an entire day before Carmen realized something was up. She was quite embarrassed when she realized what was going on, and ended up catching the Ditto since it seemed to like hanging around. Carmen’s not a competitive trainer, so her pokemon mostly help her with her field work for her junior research program. Squishy is good at getting close to wild pokemon thanks to its transformation abilities, and also just proves to be a good friend to have around.

Carmen never expected Squishy was unusual in any way until one time she and Rosemary were exploring the old Kanto Power Plant, hearing rumors that there might be rare pokemon there. The Ditto found a Metal Coat somewhere in the abandoned building and seemed very pleased with it. Carmen paid Squishy no mind until she saw the telltale glow of evolution out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed Rosemary and asked her what was going on as the two girls watched in shock as Squishy… Evolved??? Ditto were definitely not meant to do that. And when the evolution was complete… well… Squishy sure looked different. Poor Carmen was so confused by what had just happened while Rosemary was squealing about how Carmen had a “real cryptid pokemon” right under their noses this whole time.

The mystery of Squishy is solved yet again by Noelle, when Carmen sends pictures of her new pokemon to her parents, who then send them on to Noelle as she’s the one who would know about weird pokemon. Noelle confirms that Carmen’s got herself an Animon, but unlike with Draco and his Kingdra, the entire family is stumped as to how this came to be apart from simple luck. In the end, this seems to really just be a coincidence. Carmen was initially a bit wary of how different Squishy was, but when it became clear her pokemon was its same mischievous self, she warmed to the idea of having a unique evolution very quickly.

Gal and Madame

Now Gal, as the youngest, got to see all their older siblings find themselves with unique pokemon from other worlds, and they were certainly jealous. If Noelle and Draco and Carmen and Dad got cool pokemon, they should as well! So not long after setting out on their journey, Gal makes it their mission to find an alternate world pokemon. They ask Noelle for a list of ones she knows aren’t native to this world before setting out, using it as a guide so they’d know if they met any potential teammates.

Along their journey, Gal meets many interesting pokemon, catches some, makes many friends and fond memories… but doesn’t see a single “Faller pokemon” as their family has taken to calling these lost pokemon from other worlds (borrowing Noelle’s Interpol Lingo). They’re beginning to give up hope when, while in Kalos, they start getting followed around by a Farfetch’d. At this point, Gal has a nearly full team of strong and beautiful pokemon and has no time or patience for this little drab bird. It’s Morgan who eventually convinces them to let the cute little guy tag along, since how could anyone resist those sweet eyes. Gal gives in for their boyfriend, but makes it clear they’re only begrudgingly allowing this. Nonetheless, Farfetch’d worms his way into Gal’s heart and eventually they have to admit they have some affection for the bird. It’s not long after this that Gal decides to start training Farfetch’d a bit, since even if he’s never going to be a particularly conventional contest star or gym battle ace… might as well get him up to par with the rest of Gal’s pokemon.

It’s during this training that the unbelievable happens. Farfetch’d starts evolving and Gal can’t believe their eyes. Did their superior training regimen somehow unlock new, never-before-seen, potential in their pokemon?! They knew they were good but this is on a whole different level! And when they see Farfetch’d’s new form, they feel in their heart that this was an evolution just for them. A beautiful swan. This is the True Ugly Duckling Tale and Gal is the Prince and it’s perfect and meant to be. It’s Morgan who actually proposes that Gal’s little bird friend might have been one of those Faller pokemon all along rather than this being some kind of miracle, since even Gal’s not good enough to create new evolutions out of nowhere. Farfetch’d’s evolution is soon confirmed by Noelle to be one of the pokemon from her homeworld and marks the birth of a new dream team as Gal and Madame take the world by storm.

[graziadiocenterilpostino]

“Do As I Say, Do As She Does”, An Anonymous Student Essay

This essay was written for an Italian course last semester. The instructor thought it was exemplary and thought it would be an excellent idea to share it with a larger public. The student agreed to it, with the condition of remaining anonymous. We therefore publish it here with minimal edits due to the different medium and audience for which it was originally intended. 

“Yep, the ol’ man was a gigolo”, Papa says with a smoker’s chuckle and tears in his yellow, beady eyes. He’s remembering his father, Gaetano “Tommy” S***, or Big Papa as he is known by the great-grandkids, seeming to forget that I’ve heard the story he’s about to tell dozens of times already. Sometimes I wonder if he’s aware of this fact, but he proceeds to tell me anyway in a subtle attempt to admit just how much his father’s infidelity had affected him as a young man. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking that Papa is speaking less about the weakness of his dad, and more about the strength of his mother.

My great-grandmother’s name is Rita, but I never knew that until third grade when I attended her funeral. We all called her Noni instead, a name synonymous with the smell of Entenmann’s, Dove soap, and the beautiful garden of lemons, oranges, and roses surrounding my great-grandparents’ house on Ellery Street in San Pedro. She greeted us with the same delight at every Sunday lunch, stepping out of her kitchen to squeeze our cheeks and cry out joyfully, “Carme-nooch! Vincenzo! Gino!”. Her eyes would sparkle as she embraced us, and she gave the warmest hugs known to mankind. She greeted everyone like this, and in our big Italian family, that meant over twenty people on any given Sunday. On holidays, at least forty people would show up, cramped together in the living room to enjoy her delicious cooking and endless supply of stories. Anywhere you looked, the walls were protected by a cross, or a statue of Mary, or guardian angels. Always surrounding these items were pictures of S*** relatives, symbolizing the central role of faith in our family. Noni’s strong adherence to the Catholic beliefs had made her a welcoming and forgiving person, who treated everyone with the same level of respect and affection no matter what. It was no wonder why she was able to attract such great company through all the years up to her passing at the age of eighty-five, ten years ago. But it was only within the last five years, once Papa started to reveal more information to me during our back-porch talks, that I truly realized the sacrifices Noni had made because of her faith, and the very different role religion had played in my great-grandfather’s life.

By the time I was old enough to know who Big Papa was, he was already disabled (which, according to my grandfather, was the only reason he stopped messing around with other women).     I rarely saw him get up from his enormous throne of brown leather, but when he did, everyone made a big deal out of it. He still had the aura of a king, despite being in his eighties, which I’m told was passed down to him from his father, the first Carmen S***. My great-great-grandfather  Carmen was known as “Capodochiaro” by the fishing community in San Pedro, which in his dialect meant “king of the beach”. He came to America in 1913 from Ischia, Italy, bringing with him a childhood’s length of experience in fishing and specifically, net making. Over his lifetime he had owned ten commercial fishing boats in the Los Angeles Harbor, and was so successful that at one point the New Zealand government tried to recruit him to teach their fishermen net making. At his wife’s request, the Capodochiaro refused. Big Papa was raised in San Pedro to continue the family business and maintained three of the boats. His work ethic was just as strong as his father’s, which he then passed down to my grandfather. To this day, Papa can never seem to emphasize enough his father’s ability to show him what it meant to work and take pride in your work at such a young age.

When he was not working, however, Big Papa was a lot more reckless. He nearly smoked and drank himself to death at several points in his life and, as mentioned, got himself involved with other women. Yet he did all of this while maintaining a close relationship with God. The irony of these two truths occurring at once reminds me of the irony involved with certain initiations into the Mafia. In the video we watched on Michael Franzese, he describes the “made man” ceremony in which a picture of a saint was burned in his hand, a sacrilegious act to initiate him into a life of greed, deceit, and horrific violence. At the same time, these individuals identified themselves as proud Roman-Catholics!

On a smaller scale, Big Papa displayed the same dichotomy between his faith and his actions. Though he rarely attended church himself, my great-grandfather was a strong believer in Christ and made sure to put my grandfather and his siblings through Catholic school and all of the necessary sacraments. It really shocked me, to say the least, when I found out that the man who had made such an effort to instill Catholic beliefs and morals into his son was the same man to make him sit in the car during his pre-work “errands”. Thankfully, reading Jerre Mangione’s Mount Allegro has enabled me to explore this behavior in new ways. For instance, Mangione describes his relatives as having Catholicism “so deeply ingrained in their bones that they could violate some of its man-made rules without the slightest feeling of guilt”. Was my great-grandfather so confident in his faith that he could violate the     seventh commandment without remorse? If so, why was he then so adamant on raising my grandfather “by the book”? Once again, Mangione provides an explanation. In the same passage, he proclaims that “the young had yet to prove their devotion by going to church and following the rules of the Catholic Church”. In other words, the adults had done their time, and had reached the point at which they were essentially best friends with God, no longer His servants. In Big Papa’s case, he had served as an altar boy, got married in a church, and that was enough for him. His only responsibility after that was to put his kids through the same experience, for their own good and protection under God. It did not faze him that he was sinning in his own life or violating Holy Matrimony. My great-grandfather viewed God as a best    friend who he would often disappoint, but who would always forgive him. His greatest contribution to the friendship was offering his beloved children the chance to grow into honorable men and women, to do as he said and not as he did.

Noni’s approach was similar and different. She certainly made an equal if not greater effort to raise her children within the Catholic faith. However, as stated earlier, she practiced what   she preached; and it was because of this adherence to the faith that Noni felt obligated to sacrifice so much. For example, her propensity to forgive her husband for all of his affairs could only be attributed to a woman seeking to live her life in the image of Christ. It also revealed her devotion to her children, as she believed divorcing my great-grandfather would only create problems for Papa and his siblings down the road. She stuck it out because she truly believed it was the right thing to do for her children, not herself. For over half a century she slept under the same roof as the man who had betrayed her so many times, so that her family could remain unified. Her marriage may have been hanging by a thread, but Noni’s sacrifices proved to be worthwhile. Our massive Italian family stayed intact for all of her life, all thanks to her selflessness that she maintained because of her devotion to God and the Catholic faith.

When Noni passed away, Big Papa’s health was in steep decline. His mind was deteriorating, and he had lost almost all of his short-term memory. Because of this, he would always ask for my great-grandmother, and the adults would reassure him that she was on vacation. They never told her she had passed away, but my grandfather is convinced that he knew. Big Papa passed away on her birthday, within the same year.

Papa never complains about his upbringing as a child aware of his dad’s indiscretions. He  never feels sorry for himself, instead only for his mother. But he also expresses extreme gratitude for Big Papa and reassures me that although his shortcomings as a husband went without saying, he was still a “great father”. This conclusion used to strike me as odd, but now I am able to  understand it better. My grandfather inherited his mother’s warm heart and his father’s work ethic, the former allowing him still to appreciate the latter without resentment. His unconditional love for his father was the same kind of love given by Noni, who took Christ as her example.

I would like to make clear that I have nothing but love for my great-grandfather. There is so much more to him that was left out of this essay, for the sake of relevance, that I wish I could have included. I understand that people are complicated, and this essay was in no shape or form a  means to speak ill of Big Papa. This side of him was discussed solely for me to explore his relationship with God and how it differed from that of my great-grandmother. From everything I’ve been told, I can say without a doubt that my great-grandfather was a good man. He had flaws like   the rest of us, in some areas more than others, but I know in the end he truly loved his wife.

[terraclae]

Congregate

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue @rasvimhia @griminal-rising

It's been a while since I've posted lore because of a whole lot of things but I'd like to start posting pieces again, sorry for the wait! I'll work on my lore bit by bit and see what I can post and hove this is enjoyable enough for now.

‘I knew something had to be wrong.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Said Balam. He didn’t look at Atlas who had spoken but instead buried his head deeper into his hands. ‘We’d best worry about what to do.’

‘It’s the middle of the night, there’s not a lot of people we can inform now.’ Kassa added softly. ‘Who do you want to ask for help?'

‘We have to ask help from someone.’ Balam pulled his hands away to lean his head on them, looking at the butterfly before them. Carmen had put it in a jar and brought it to the dining hall where they sat now. ‘Someone seems to be helping Arodan at the very least but we have no guarantee that we can trust them. If we follow this guide it might lead us into a trap.’

‘It’s the best lead we have.’ Atlas said and tapped the jar cautiously. ‘We have to do something. We can’t just go to sleep and see what we’ll do in the morning, our friends are in danger.’

‘We know Atlas.’ Caer groaned, rubbing her temples. ‘But we don’t have the manpower to just storm in and rescue them. It’s just us.’ She looked up from under heavy tired eyelids. ‘We’d get ourselves killed.’

‘He’s right though.’ Kassa said, flashing Atlas a weary smile. He didn’t return the gesture and they didn’t mind that. ‘We have to do something, no matter how small. Not a big gesture that might endanger us, but something, to let them know we’re coming.’

‘What do you propose we do?’ Carmen asked, tapping the table impatiently. ‘Do we just storm Odin’s office in the middle of the night?’

‘Right on darling.’ Kassa hummed. Carmen looked at them incredulously but could not get a word in before they started to explain what they had in mind. ‘I suggest we divide in groups. You and Atlas already wanted to go, no? What if Balam, Caer and I instead pay a visit to Odin?’ They folded their hands. ‘I suggest that you two scout out the area discreetly so we know where it is and what we should keep in mind.'

'No offense, but that sounds too dangerous and stupid on top of all of that.' Caer snapped. 'Let me scout it out, that's my job.'

'Oh, it is. But for once, they have to go. Not because I have some sickly curiosity to see what happens but because I have a feeling that's what we need.' Kassa argued, drawing a finger alongside the glass of the jar. 'Our mysterious ally sent magic, and knows much more magically inclined folk are coming. Shade, if you might.' Their hand lifted slowly to point at Carmen. 'She knows exactly what Shade looks like in the small nuances, you don't, Caer. If it's there, she'll know how to get out.'

'You have that much faith in me?' Carmen asked Kassa. They met her stare with an intrigued little smile. 'We barely trust you Kassa. Why trust us?'

'That's just how it is. I trust you guys to come to a solution.' They folded their hands with a satisfied finality. Their smile fell that moment. 'So, how does this plan sound?'

'It's a plan.' Atlas was first to speak again, then shot a few looks at Balam and Carmen. 'Kassa, what do you intend for me to do in this? Scout too, that I understand, but I don't have magical knowledge like Carmen does.'

'You have your weapons and your strength. Besides this, you are agile and quiet. If you get in trouble, you need to watch Carmen's back and she needs to watch yours.' Kassa lifted up then jar and studied the butterfly inside. It had taken to crawling around it frantically. 'I don't assume you'll get yourselves in danger but it's still good to be careful if we aren't certain of what we are up against.'

'Okay, good, we'll go with that plan because it's better than sitting around.' Carmen slammed her hand down on the table and got up. 'If you had a gut feeling, it'd better be a good one.'

'My gut feeling hasn't failed me yet. So let's see how this will play out.' They leant back, swinging and bouncing around just a little. 'I've missed making plans.'

'Savor it, I'm still on the fence whether I like the idea of you making plans for us or not.' Balam huffed, getting up in a similar manner to Carmen. 'How do we know we are not just going to find a closed door at Odin's office?'

'The man works too much. I have another hunch he won't be home tonight.' They turned to Balam then. 'Well, Balam?'

'I know he's like that, that doesn't mean a guarantee.'  Balam grumbled. His brows nearly obscured his eyes with how intensely he currently allowed himself to frown. 'I suppose we can try.'

'Then we have ourselves a plan.' Kassa excitedly clasped their hands together and got up. 'I will stay here to wait for you all.'

'I'd rather have you come with us.' Balam grunted. Kassa didn't seem to mind him but they did back away discreetly. 'I'm not sure if you are going to choose now to fulfil another scheme and as such I want to be absolutely certain you don't do anything funny.'

'Actually… Let them come with us.' Carmen stepped in between Kassa and Balam, keeping her gaze locked on Kassa. 'We don't know if we're walking into a trap if we follow the butterfly, so we need some semblance of strategy on location. Besides, it's better than leaving you here.'

'I think I like that idea better.' They tilted their head in coy manner and spun on their heel. 'Fine. I will go with you, so let's head out already. We can't have Sachairi and Arodan waiting for us now, do we?'

'Are you sure you want them coming along with you?' Balam leant down and whispered this in Carmen's ear. She nodded, and after a moment where he fumbled with the lining of his shirt he reached out and hugged her. 'Be safe. I don't want you three to get lost too.'

'We'll find them Balam, I'm sure we can help them.' Carmen whispered in return. She pulled back and started to head over to Atlas who was already waiting by the door to the courtyard. Kassa was currently heading over to him already. 'Come back safely too, okay?'

'Of course.' Balam waved after her. 'Always.' The three disappeared through the door and he was left standing in the empty dining hall with Caer.  

*

'Had a nice nap?'

'Not really.' Dmitri wrestled a coughing fit down, something Frey seemed to look upon with amusement. Whatever wounds he had must have reopened, at least, that could be the only explanation for the pain he felt. He felt his fingers along the chains locked around his wrists. 'There are better ways to treat your guests, you know?'

'Well, I would have, if you were an invited guest.' Frey hummed. He pulled a chair close and sat down, his gaze gliding over Dmitri. 'I don't think you're the worst person. Too bad you seem to have an affliction I don't particularly like to keep close.'

'That's my friend, don't mind him.' Dmitri managed to cheerfully respond before his gaze twisted into a vicious pinched facade. 'I'd rather have you not touch him.'

'Shade is nobody's friend. But it is sentient, you say?' Frey smiled and got up to stalk over to Dmitri. 'If I am not going to sleep tonight, won't you indulge me into how that works?'

'I would but I think I've had it with your behavior. Look, if you've caught my friend, then at least let him go. He did nothing wrong, I got us into this situation.' Dmitri's breath stocked when Frey reached him and took hold of his chin to pull him upwards. '... Do you do this with every prisoner?'

‘You are a special exception and not in a good way.’ Frey blankly stated, letting go of Dmitri. ‘We don’t have your friend. Lucky him. We have you though.’ Now that Dmitri actually got to survey Frey up close he could see he didn’t move easily, needing a cane to keep himself standing upright. Had he gotten hurt in the earlier skirmish? ‘What if I purged you of that Shade of yours?’

‘He is not Shade, he’s my friend.’ Dmitri immediately snapped, struggling against his restraints. ‘Okay, Yes, he’s shade infected, but he is not evil or a hazard.’ He stumbled back to steady himself against the wall. ‘You will not hurt him.’ He managed to crack a snide grin. ‘I can’t imagine what drives you to be the person you are.’

‘Many things, but I’m sure you’re not interested in that.’ Frey bent down once more and surveyed Dmitri’s wounds. ‘That is how it is, I get interested in people but they fail to pay attention to me.’

‘I… Honestly? Don’t care.’ Dmitri attempted to pull away further despite the wall behind him. One of Frey’s hands reached a wound a pushed against it and he barely stopped himself from biting said hand off. ‘You don’t seem like a nice person so why should people care?’

‘Oh, say it just a little bit more eloquently and you could be my father.’ Frey hissed. He pulled back unsteadily and stood there, leaning on his cane. ‘I didn’t ask for this either. As did my sister. But here we are.’

‘Then what’s stopping you from changing things? You’re a prince, spoiled for sure.’ Dmitri quirked an eyebrow and spat at Frey. ‘I don’t care how hurt you are, it does not justify what kind of atrocities you or your family have committed.’ He lunged forward and couldn’t reach him, the chain being pulled taut from its leverage point to the wall. ‘Take that from someone who thoroughly hates himself.’

Frey’s gaze slid alongside the length of Dmitri’s arm once more, to his face, and he finally breathed. It was strained, having forgotten to breathe entirely in the last twenty seconds of conversation. ‘Broken things. Broken things keep me from doing that.’ He didn’t look like he meant his statement, there was hesitance and shakiness to his way of speaking. There was a small twinkle in his eyes, a shimmer of doubt. ‘You are broken, so am I, and maybe if I wasn’t, I could have been different to you.’ He steadied himself on his chair and lifted his cane to tilt Dmitri’s head around. ‘And for what I did, that isn’t important. Eventually my sister has to carry my father’s empire and she will have become like him. Now there is something left of her I knew and saw but that might disappear soon. I’m left elsewhere, and I do not need nor deserve pity.’ He bit his lip. ‘Do you understand that?’

‘Listen-‘ Dmitri took Frey’s cane and without warning pulled him towards him. The soldiers that had been watching pulled their weapons but only stopped because there was the risk they might stab Frey. He was far too close again and Frey smelled of a hazy miasmic perfume that dulled the senses like his voice did. ‘I see where you’re coming from if you’re laying it all out for me. But it is not an excuse. Saying you don’t want pity is the same as saying you don’t feel like changing your ways in your case.’ His tail angrily swished behind him. ‘If there truly was nothing left in your heart that could possibly redeem you then kill me, torture me, prove it then.’ He tossed him backwards, sending Frey crashing towards the ground. ‘Do your worst.’

Frey sat on the ground rubbing his cheek for a bit in a daze. His men didn’t even particularly know wether to help him or let him be, just judging the strange faraway look he had on his face. When he got so, he did so himself. Shakily at first, he rose. Once he was fully upright he could drop back to his more stately way of standing, brushing long strands of hair out of his face. ‘I think…’ He mused a moment longer, a smile coloring his face. ‘I know what to do with you.’ And turned his smile curiously, serpentine, towards Dmitri.

*

'You look like you've had better days.'

The stillness of his mind was disturbed. He remembered gold, golden fields, but it was far gone and now there was nothing but darkness. Arodan sat opposite of Raz in a fancy looking felt chair, like the last time they spoke. He didn't know what to say, beholding the pearlcatcher with guilt fueled horror. '... I...'

'What's wrong?'

‘Raz, I um…’

‘Speak up. Nothing's going to hurt you here.’ Raz assured him, holding up his hand in apologetic fashion. ‘I know… You maybe don’t want to see me. I can understand that. But I promise that despite my-‘

‘Sachairi. It’s Sachairi, Raz.’ Arodan bowed his head and kept his hands close to him. He didn’t dare meet Raz’s gaze and continued speaking fearfully. ‘He got caught. We ended up in conflict with Lux Laterna and he couldn’t win from Prince Frey’s bodyguard.’

Raz didn’t say anything. He stared at Arodan with a half open mouth, his eye darting wildly over him. There was a moment, a point of realization in which he rose from his chair and paced over to Arodan. ‘... What?’

‘He’s in trouble, Raz.’

‘I-I…’ Raz’s breaths caught in his throats, turning his gaze away. In rapid fashion his stare whipped back to Arodan and he reached to grab his collar and pull him up. ‘Where is he and are you responsible for this?’

‘Glasir. I don’t know where exactly but it might be in plague’s quarter.’ Arodan murmured. ‘And it is-‘

‘No, actually, I don’t care if it’s your fault.’ Raz let him go and pushed him back into his chair. ‘You better stay put because I’m coming. I’m so close, I’m not going to have anyone take any semblance of happiness from me right now.’

‘You’re going to get yourself caught or captured!’

‘I’d like to see them try and I’d like to see you try to stop me.’ Raz sneered, hugging his pearl close to him. ‘I have nothing to lose.’ He spun on his heel and walked off, the dream starting to collapse around them. Arodan sprinted from his chair to stop him, but fell into darkness before he could reach Raz’s flitting, vague form.

*

'Arodan?' He was shaken and heard the voice softly.  'Arodan?' This time around he woke, finding he was still in the dark attic. Mordred was sitting besides him with their hands having a firm hold on his shoulder. 'The panic has died down outside. I think my message should have reached your friends by now, so they know you're safe. Now would be a good moment to escape.'

'What about Dmitri?' Arodan sat up. Admittedly he felt well rested, maybe the nap had been necessary. His bruises weren't as sore as they had been before. 'I have to at least try to get him out.'

'I told you, there is nothing you can do for him now.' Mordred bluntly responded, pulling Arodan up. 'It's better if you leave. Please just go to safety.'

'How do you know so certainly there's nothing I can do for him? What if I stole a soldier's armor, steal the keys and get him out?' Arodan stumbled around the attic, ready to head down. Mordred followed him closely by holding on to his tail. 'There's… Another side to him, Sachairi, he matters immensely to my friends. I can't just let him die or get tortured.'

'Really? I understand, I really do, but you're just endangering yourself.' Mordred sat down on the loose attic panel so Arodan couldn't get out. 'It's a viable plan, sure, but also reckless. I can't just let you risk your life like that.''

'But... ' Arodan crept closer and held up a hand. 'It is viable, even you're saying so.'

'Goddamnit, why do I keep helping idiots like you, we don't even know each other.' Mordred spat. Eventually they backed against the wall and sat there with their arms folded. 'Yeah, it's a plan. But you might as well hand yourself over to Frey right there.'

'Maybe.' Arodan shuddered briefly and looked away. 'I can't say I didn't consider that either. Maybe that would be easier, maybe he'd just kill me.' He dragged a hand over his bad eye. 'This all feels like my fault. I need to do something right.'

'So what will you do?'

'I have to at least take a shot at getting him out. I will disguise myself as a soldier, try to steal the keys and leave with my friend.' He glanced up at Mordred. 'Will you help me? Is it really like you could be at a greater risk?'

‘No, probably not, but I haven’t figured my mistakes either and I do not want to die like that.’ Mordred nervously rubbed their hands together and closed their eyes for a moment. ‘Even with a full helmet on I don’t know if they’re just going to let you walk around.’ They shook their head. ‘But I guess I cannot stop you… And I won’t. But we’re doing things my way.’

‘Does it involve magic-‘

‘It involves magic.’ Mordred stumbled to get up and around him, moving over to a large wooden chest. In it was a full suit of armor, and more peculiarly a scroll lying among what seemed to be charms. Mordred picked up the scroll first. ‘This is an unorthodox solution, but we can try. Ever seen a dragon shift from one type into another?’

‘What manner of scroll is that?’ Arodan asked. He watched Mordred unfold the scroll and soon it was clear what that would transform him into. Bent claws, sleeker wings, he could imagine a wild claw clearly, but that wildclaw was not himself. ‘Is that uh… Do you really think this is going to help?’

‘Yes, because you’ll be taller and different in shape in this bipedal form of yours so they might need a little longer to recognize you.’ Mordred shifted on their legs so they sat right before Arodan with the scroll unfolded. Their vibrant red eyes focused on Arodan. ‘And as someone who used to be a tactician like my mother before me, you need to make use of every moment you have in a tense situation.’ They smiled weakly. ‘Are-'

'Hold on.' Arodan held up his hand. 'Mordred?'

'Yes?'

'Tell me something about yourself.'

'About… myself?' Mordred whispered incredulously. 'Why? Why do you want me to tell you about myself?' Arodan seemed clear enough in his tilted head, raised brow and annoyed glance. A measure of trust, that was what this was. Mordred rubbed the back of their neck gently and kept their ruby focus on the scroll. 'I don't remember much of the past. Blood, the ire of others. Some other life I must have done something wrong and lady luck turned her back on me. But you know, maybe that also mean I need to try again and I quite like this world. It's beautiful, it's flora, it's fauna, the butterflies here are wonderful. It's worth making an attempt for.'

'Alright. Sounds like an honest enough answer.' Arodan nodded his head but he still looked doubtfully upon Mordred. 'You appreciate life though? Nature? It's an odd interest for a plague dragon to have.'

'My eyes have always been red actually. That I do know.' They smoothed the scroll out. 'But I am not sure if I'm meant to be a plague dragon and when I look in the mirror I scare myself so usually I wear masks or illusions.' They raised their gaze expectantly. 'Is that alright?'

'You know, that works for me. I'll believe you that that scroll will change me into what it says it will and that you will help me.' Arodan looked off, his mind made up. 'It's worth a shot.'

'Then are you ready?'

‘... All I hope is that my friends will be okay with this.’ Arodan quietly responded. He stroked the crests behind his ears for what might have been the last time. He couldn’t help but swiftly pull two feathers out, gritting his teeth against the brief pain. This was a dire situation but he still worried about what the others might think and how much this might change him. Eventually he drew his finger over the gem on his forehead and his hand ended up folded into the other on his lap. ‘... I’m ready. I’m going to save my friend.’ Mordred gently handed the scroll to him and Arodan started to recite the words, their magic coursing through him and invoking the change. Maybe after all was said and done, he could change himself back, but for now he would make sure to give Frey the worst he could bring unto him if it meant a semblance of revenge for what his family did.

[mrauthor3ds]

Smash Musings - Akira Kurusu

Yup, I’m finally doing a Persona character. But why Akira Kurusu (of Persona 5)? Well, Persona 5 is quickly gaining popularity, for starters. Also, the idea that I had works best aesthetically with Akira and his Persona, Arsene. As for whether or not he can be realized...well, Persona Q2 will be coming to 3DS, and it focuses on the Persona 5 cast. By Sakurai’s rules on third-party guests, that’s enough for at least qualification.

-= Overview =- Akira Kurusu may seem par for the course of any fast lightweight low-damage fighter, but apart from that, he's a whole different ballgame. His Persona, Arsene, can cover a wide area, whether it's with special moves, grabs, or smash attacks. Although Arsene is a bigger target than Akira alone, he can become even stronger when the binds break and he evolves into Satanael!

-= Specialty: Persona Akira is aided by his Persona, Arsene. Moves that use this being are smash attacks, grabs, and three of the special moves (standard, side, down). His attacks generally cover a wider area than Akira's, and he's super-armored for most moves. However, his damage output is about as low as Akira's, and his presence practically increases the size of Akira's hitbox, making him a bigger target.

However, as the match goes on, a meter on Akira's HUD will fill up. When it's filled, just use the standard special to break Arsene's binds and evolve him into the demon lord Satanael for a limited time. In this state, Satanael's smash attacks are even stronger, his grab has more range, and the specials change to even stronger versions. Also, the super-armor threshold improves slightly. Just remember that this mode has a time limit, and when it's done, he'll go back to being Arsene, and you'll need to fill the meter once more.

If Akira is KOed, then don't worry. The meter's content will only be halved instead of emptied. If the Persona was Satanael at the time, then he'll also go back to his Arsene state.

-= Neutral Attack: Forward slash, rising slash, and downward slash. (basic attack) -= Side Attack: Lunging side slash. -= Up Attack: Swings knife upward. -= Down Attack: Quick stab from down low. -= Dash Attack: Sudden sprint slash. -= Side Smash: Arsene/Satanael rushes a fair distance in front of Akira with claws. -= Up Smash: Arsene/Satanael deals an uppercut. -= Down Smash: Arsene/Satanael strikes both ways with his wings.

-= Grab: Arsene/Satanael seizes foe in one hand. -= Pummel: Akira punches foe. -= Front Throw: Akira strikes foe forward. -= Back Throw: Arsene/Satanael flings foe behind. -= Up Throw: Arsene/Satanael swoops up with foe and slams him/her into the ground. -= Down Throw: Akira leaps onto foe's shoulders and strikes him/her down. (based on an Ambush move)

-= Air Neutral: Swings knife around. -= Air Front: Swings knife forth from overhead. -= Air Back: Stabs behind self. -= Air Up: Backflip slash upward. -= Air Down: Stabs straight down. Meteor smash up close.

-= Standard Special (Arsene): Eiga: Casts a burst of darkness a fair distance forward. Tilt at the start to influence its distance from Akira - back to bring it closer, forward to distance it more. -= Side Special (Arsene): Dream Needle: Arsene throws a dart forth. Weak, but inflicts sleep on hit. Can slightly angle it up or down. -= Up Special (Arsene): Thief Move: Quickly dashes in a given direction. Super-armored. -= Down Special (Arsene): Sukunda: Casts a slowing aura around self. The effect is fairly short, but can last longer if the targets have more damage. -= Standard Special (Satanael): Maeigaon: Works the same as Eiga, but is stronger and covers a larger area. -= Side Special (Satanael): Riot Gun: Satanael fires a strong piercing projectile forward. Can slightly angle it up or down. -= Up Special (Satanael): Survival Trick: Much like Thief Move, but shorter and can act after moving. Can do this multiple times in a single session, but each following use of this special will shorten Satanael's duration some. -= Down Special (Satanael): Sinful Shell: Fires a narrow but powerful shot of the Seven Deadly Sins forth. Startup is fairly slow, but is very powerful and has good KO potential. This will revert Satanael back to Arsene immediately. -= Final Smash: All-Out Attack: Futaba's Necronomicon will spotlight foes in front of Akira. Cue cinematic attack on captured foes with Akira, Morgana, Ryuji, and Makoto, finished with them in their flourish poses.

-= Palettes =- Normal Ryuji Sakamoto (Skull) & Captain Kidd Ann Takamaki (Panther) & Carmen Yusuke Kitagawa (Fox) & Goemon Makoto Niijima (Queen) & Johanna Futaba Sakura (Oracle) & Necronomicon Haru Okumura (Noir) & Milady Goro Akechi (Crow) & Robin Hood

-= Entrance =- - Appears from a blue fire, with Arsene's silhouette hovering above him.

-= Idle Animations =- - Ponders with a hand to his chin. (idle animation on the field) - Does a slight fist pump. (getting an answer right on a quiz)

-= Taunts =- Up: Summons Arsene's/Satanael's silhouette, which says "I am thou." Side: "Showtime!" Spins his knife around. Down: Checks phone; ripples of the Metaverse appear around himself.

-= Victory Poses =- - Lands feet-first, then stands up and adjusts a glove. Says "The show's over" or "See ya!" (All-Out Attack flourish) - Breaks the bind on Arsene, transforming him into Satanael. (event in the final battle) - Morgana hops onto his arm, saying "That was great, Joker!" or "Nice work!"

-= Other =- - Straight and forward midair jump have a spin to them, like in the cutscene where Akira jumps through the window at the front of Sae Niijima's Palace. - Crouch is similar to his stance when hiding behind cover. - The meter on Akira's HUD is based on the poll for the Phan-Site (Phantom Thieves Aficionado site). At Persona 5's climax, its poll question is "Do the Phantom Thieves exist?", and when everyone rallies their support to the Phantom Thieves, it fills to 100.0%. This happens to be the catalyst that evolves Arsene into Satanael in the final battle, hence the meter mechanic in this moveset.

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Da Vinci fiasco casts glare on opaque art market | Louvre to mark five centuries passing of Leonardo da Vinci with exhibition

Da Vinci fiasco casts glare on opaque art market As the Louvre prepares to mark five centuries since the passing of Leonardo da Vinci with a major exhibition of the Renaissance master’s work, inclusion of the world’s most notorious painting – the Salvator Mundi – is in doubt. The painting of Jesus Christ, which sold in 2017 for an unprecedented sum of $450 million dollars, had been billed by the storied auction house Christie’s as “the last Leonardo.” This description built on credence gained six years earlier when the National Gallery of London unveiled the work to the public as a genuine Da Vinci, ostensibly putting it among the ranks of an exclusive club of some 20 paintings accepted to have been done by the artist’s own hand. The prospect of owning this rare depiction of the Christ, a figure also revered in Islam as a messenger preceding Prophet Mohammed, was enough to drive up bidding to ungodly sums in a matter of minutes. Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is believed to have been behind the gargantuan acquisition, although the Saudi embassy in Washington insisted the buyer was an obscure member of the royal family acting on behalf of the Louvre Abu Dhabi. But what promised to be the jewel in the crown of the interfaith-obsessed Emirati museum never arrived for its promised October 2018 unveiling. Instead, the painting has yet to see the light of day, or at least the glare of the public eye. And that, art experts say, is for a very good reason.

Visitors stand with their mobile phones and smartphones in front of Leonardo da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa” in the Louvre in April 2019. Photo: Sabine Glaubitz/dpa Louvre expo looms The biggest issue at stake, as the Louvre expo looms, is how the Salvator Mundi would be labeled in a charged environment of colliding geopolitics, business interests and reputations at stake. Carmen Bambach of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, one of the foremost scholars of Italian Renaissance art and Da Vinci, believes the master at most carried out minor retouches on the painting, which as a whole she says would have been the work of one of his assistants. Bambach was listed by Christie’s as one of just over a dozen art historians who had been consulted in order to establish “broad consensus that the Salvator Mundi was painted by Leonardo da Vinci.” The Met curator told the Guardian that this was not an accurate representation of her conclusions. Other key Da Vinci experts, notably Oxford University’s Martin Kemp, have thrown their academic weight behind the painting. But art history professor David Nolta of the Massachusetts College of Art says the “reputational damage” to the piece has already been done.  “The money is the problem. It’s the reason everyone wants to see it,” he says. “There’s a complete disconnect between value and authenticity. “I don’t think you can show that picture other than as being the most expensive painting in the world. People like myself have serious questions about whether this is a real Leonardo,” Nolta told Asia Times. According to art critic Ben Lewis – whose book The Last Leonardo: The Secret Lives of the World’s Most Expensive Painting seeks to trace Salvator Mundi’s journey – a number of Louvre curators have similar questions. “Sources inside the Louvre attested to me that many Louvre curators don’t think Salvator Mundi is an autographed Leonardo,” he told Asia Times.  With that in mind, Lewis says there is the possibility the French may insist that the work is exhibited as the product of the Da Vinci “workshop,” denoting that it was painted largely by the master’s followers.  “No one knows whether the Louvre Paris is going to show Salvator Mundi,” Lewis says. “if they do that, it will anoint the picture. If not, I think the picture is condemned.” To show the painting as “Da Vinci workshop” would put its market value close to the lower millions, and $20 million if you are being generous, according to Lewis. “There’s no comparison” between the categories, he says.  The stakes and sensitivities are raised due to the relationship between the Louvre in Paris and the announced owner, the Louvre Abu Dhabi. “The Louvre could never risk its reputation by agreeing to modify its art history opinion based on money,” Nolta of MassArt said. If the painting is exhibited as a true Da Vinci, “that’s what it would look like because of its huge price. They could just show it” – without attribution — “but I imagine the buyer is not going to allow anything that makes it look in question.” The era of big-name museums like the Louvre and Guggenheim selling their brands abroad may be headed for a reckoning, he suggests. “This may be a wake-up call — if you’re going to spread your influence that far, you’re going to get into situations where politics play a bigger role than museum studies or art history.” In this case, the connections between the Louvre and its new sister the Louvre Abu Dhabi, and between the crown princes in Abu Dhabi and Riyadh, have put the fate of the painting and the reputations of multiple museums and governments at stake. Amid the fiasco, one would imagine that the previous owner who’d bought the painting for a mere $127.5 million four years prior to reselling it at the record auction would be pleased. But one would be wrong.

Christie’s employees take bids for the Leonardo da Vinci attributed work “Salvator Mundi” at Christie’s New York on November 15, 2017. Photo: Timothy A. Clary / AFP Blue chip blues Russian billionaire Dmitry Rybolovlev was on a quest to build up the perfect art collection for his home in exile when he met Yves Bouvier. Dubbed the “Freeport King,” the Swiss art dealer and shipper had prized inside knowledge of the possessions and liquidations of the world’s stealth wealth, kept in storage in facilities out of the public eye. In theory, he was the ideal link for a private collector in the top 1% looking to accumulate blue chip art. When old money needed cash, and decided to sell a high-value piece, Bouvier began to inform Rybolovlev. The two developed trust, with Bouvier convincing Rybolovlev that in order to keep the prices fair, the Russian oligarch should keep his identity out of the process and go through Bouvier’s Hong Kong-based company. Over the span of a decade, Bouvier facilitated the purchase of millions of dollars worth of art – with a humble stated commission averaging 2%, according to Southern District of New York court filings obtained by Asia Times. The Salvator Mundi, which Rybolovlev purchased in 2013, was to be the “pearl of the collection,” with the perfect combination of personality, intrigue and investment value, according to a source close to the Rybolovlev camp who spoke to Asia Times on condition of anonymity. The main salon of Rybolovlev’s home was prepared to feature the rare work, which had captivated him during a private viewing. Then, by chance, Rybolovlev met the prior owner of one of his paintings at a New Year’s Eve party. The man revealed the price he had sold the piece for – millions less than the price for which Rybolovlev had bought it. It would be the end of his collaboration with Bouvier, and the prod for him to get rid of the now-tainted Da Vinci as fast as he had bought it. A lawsuit brought by two companies owned by Rybolovlev alleges Bouvier included kick-backs as high as 145% in the prices of 38 separate masterworks – representing fraud of more than $1 billion. The scale of the claim helps explain why even the windfall profit Rybolovlev gained from his 2017  sale of the Salvator Mundi did nothing to dull his fury with Bouvier. The suit further claims that auction house Sotheby’s was in on the fraud, and that its vice chairman for private sales had emailed descriptions of paintings to Bouvier that were intended to be passed on to Rybolovlev. Bouvier in turn would allegedly misrepresent these emails to his client as insider information on high-value works. Sotheby’s in an October 2018 interview with Reuters called the suit a “desperate” one, adding that it would “vigorously defend the company and our employees against these baseless claims.” The murky situation is characteristic of a sector that has “no transparency, almost no regulation and a culture of almost obsessional secrecy,” as Jan Dalley of the Financial Times characterized  it following the sale of the Salvator Mundi. “We don’t usually know the names of either buyer or seller in auction transactions, and in private sales not even the price — or indeed whether a sale has taken place at all. There is no register of transactions, or of ownership of works. The term ‘insider trading’ does not apply — in fact you could say that all art trading depends on insider knowledge of some sort,” Dalley wrote at the time. While Rybolovlev wages his crusade in the United States, the heir to a certain Gulf throne may be weighing whether to take matters up with Christie’s over its characterization of the Salvator Mundi. “This would not be the first time a major auction house has the buyer sue over misrepresentation,” said Nolta. “Lawsuits take place even over jewelry.” For the owner of the Salvator Mundi, however, it’s possible there will be enough scholars attesting to the painting’s authenticity that “he chooses not to sue.” Typically, according to the art professor, a buyer and auction house will come to an arrangement outside the public eye. In July 2018, for example, Emirati collector Sultan Sooud Al Qassemi settled a lawsuit with Sotheby’s over a bronze sculpture the auction house catalogue had attributed to Egyptian modernist Mahmoud Mokhtar, although a foundry report provided at the time of sale said it was cast a year after the artist’s death – significantly reducing its worth and meaning. In the end, Al Qassemi said the suit was “amicably settled by the two parties on confidential terms.” “Auction houses are pretty clear about absolving themselves of responsibility in their documentation,” Nolta points out. “The famous phrase is caveat emptor: the buyer has to beware.” He doubts that a leading auction house would lose such a lawsuit. With the amount of cash changing hands, even a significant price reduction for a prized client could mean the auction house comes out on top. Sued by monks The saga of the Salvator Mundi seems only fitting when one considers Da Vinci’s own troubles to keep up with demand during his lifetime. According to Nolta, the master painter frequently ran into problems with patrons over over works that he never finished, or that he was accused of delegating to assistants. Take the Virgin of the Rocks, commissioned for a church in Milan. “The monks said he didn’t paint as much of the picture as he said he would. One of them said he was clearly working with an established Milanese painting firm,” chuckled Nolta.  At various stages, Leonardo suffered the plight of a freelancer: “Leonardo was constantly having to beg for money, go to the authorities. He wouldn’t get paid, wouldn’t get paid, go to the patron. Try to get his money back.” Da Vinci found security in his later years at a chateau granted to him by French King Francis I in Amboise in the Loire Valley, passing away there in 1519. France was the final home for the bulk of his paintings and drawings, which in a matter of months will go on display in the Louvre as a grand exhibition. Ahead of the October 2019 – February 2020 exposition, it is confirmed that the Louvre has officially requested a loan of the Salvator Mundi from its partner in Abu Dhabi. What is not known is whether the work can be exhibited in a manner acceptable to the owner, and whether all parties involved, from Paris to Abu Dhabi, can find redemption in its showing.   Read the full article