#so basically this is a prelude to our thread

[crosscut-drifter]

Picked up DA: Origins again the other day, because clearly that's the thing to do when I have approximately a gajillion other games to play that I haven't already completed twice over lol. Just finished the Ostagar sequence tonight and two thoughts:

a) Those 1000+ hours of BG3 (and BG1, and other isometric crpgs) in the literal years since I last played DAO (2022 - early 2023) have totally had an effect on just... how I physically play games. I always used to play DAO from over the shoulder view, basically navigating by WASD. Point-and-click or group-select movement was reserved for rare tac-cam moments. That has very much flipped.

b) Man, DAO's opening prologue+prelude sequence just fucking slaps, doesn't it? It is so tight, so compelling, so well done. I'm playing a Cousland this time around, but I've played all the origins and they all do a fantastic job of just shoving you right into the world and story. And then Ostagar... it really is so damn solid. Does a bang-up job of introducing you to a bunch of different things - companions, more of the world, laying down hooks for several major plot threads, takes you through both an open map exploration section (Korcari Wilds) and a dungeon (Tower of Ishal) which hits both the major types of levels you'll play...

And I'm not the greatest at identifying Themes and so on, but there's moments in the prelude where like... it does feel like the story of Origins is kinda making some of its thesis statements, in a way. Different bits jump out at me every time I play it. This time, it was Ser Jory backing away from the Joining, back up against the wall, sword raised defensively, stammering out in despair:

"There is no glory in this!"

Before Duncan grimly guts him.

It just really... yeah. A lot of DAO's story is kind of about that. About glory, and the lack thereof. And it's stating it here, outright. This isn't a story about glory. There is no glory here. There are secrets protected by murder - in this world, it's fantastical secrets of taboo magics, dramatized and exaggerated, but of course, the same thing happens in our world, too. And often against the backdrop of war.

In this same section we get introduced to the fairy-tale king figure of Cailan, literally golden and shining, starry-eyed and proclaiming his romantic desires for glory and triumph while everyone around him looks on. In another story, we can tell right away, he'd be a hero. He'd be, maybe, proven right - ultimately, if not immediately. Another story might lean into his romanticizing. (Not, admittedly, a common trend at the time DAO released.)

And then he dies. Gruesomely, violently. Ignobly. Because all around Cailan, DAO highlights the cruel absurdities of war, the despair, the casual violence. While at the same time - that battle scene? The beats of archers - hounds - for Ferelden!? I get chills, every time. They are, undoubtedly, doing the right thing. They are betrayed. In the setting, those who fall at Ostagar alongside King Cailan become martyrs, of a sort... the "glorious" dead.

But I do think, it does feel, like part of the statement that the whole prologue makes is truly summed up by Jory's line, punctuated by the battle's loss and the golden king's death:

There is no glory in this.

Hell, you know what this makes me think of? The whole sequence from the Joining scene to your MC being ambushed on the tower roof?

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace [...] And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, [...] If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, [...] My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.

[imfluentinfangirlandgay]

A Father's Resolve - Ch 4

Ingo returns after a decade - with two extra cars in tow. Years later, his kids are swallowed up by time in the same way he was. Will he be able to find them? Will they be able to make it out alive?

Word Count: ~1400

Rei awoke to someone pounding on the door of the hut. After a moment of pure confusion, he suddenly recalled everything. The portal, Arceus, Prelude Beach, Laventon, the Galaxy Team… 

"Cyllene wishes to speak to you two!" It sounded like Laventon's voice.

"Be out in a minute!" Rei called back. Akari groaned. 

"Do you have to yell that loud?" 

He ignored her. He stood and brushed off his clothes. They didn't have any changes of clothes, but he did throw his jacket back on. His back ached from the thin mattress. 

"Hey, Rei…" 

"Yeah?" He was pulling on his shoes and glanced to look at his sister. 

"If we're back in Hisui… should we show people our teams? Would that mess with the timeline?" 

He'd been wondering the same thing. "Probably not," he said. Then another thought struck him. "Wait," he burst out, making Akari look at him, "What if Dad is here? Like, younger him?"

She blinked. "We don't know for sure that he is." 

"But what if?" He stood up and grabbed his bag. "It's not impossible. What if our mom is here?" 

"How would we even know?" Akari shouldered her own bag and combed her hair back into a ponytail, threading it through her hat. "We never saw her." 

"She's a native to Hisui, I think, so she is probably here… but you have a point." He blinked as he rested his hand on the sliding door. He slid it open, beckoning to his twin as he left the room. She shut the door as she left and they looked next door at the large brick building. People were milling around the street, like last night. Several of them threw the twins odd glances. 

"Let's go see what Cyllene wants," Rei said. 

—

"Your first task is to catch a Bidoof, a Starly, and a Shinx." Cyllene's gray eyes did not waver. "Complete this task and you will be official members of the Galaxy Team." And with that, she dismissed them by going back to her desk.

They turned away from Cyllene and began to walk away. Rei met his twin's eyes and whispered in Unovan, "That's it? Catch three baby mons?"

"Maybe it'll be harder than we think?" She also seemed confused. 

"Akari," Rei whispered, staring at her with a blank expression, "a Bidoof, the goofiest thing ever. A Starly, basically Sinnoh's Pidove. The only one I could see having any trouble with is Shinx." 

"Let's just see what happens."

People stared at them and whispered as they entered the village. Buildings of simple brick and mortar with variegated roofs lined the street. Laventon continued to talk, but it was hard to pay attention. Akari held onto Rei’s hand, both of them staring in different directions. 

The canteen owner was hostile. The Captain was doubtful. "If you fail, you will be turned away to meet your fate, and perhaps your death, in the wilds." Laventon had tried reassuring then that she was simply trying to keep them safe and wouldn't actually do that, but Rei did not doubt they would for a second. What would the trial be? A lot seemed to be riding on it. 

As the twins left the room, they were stopped by Laventon. "Before we go," he said cheerfully, "I want you to pick one of these." He let out the three pokemon that the twins had worked to capture in front of them. Rowlet, Cyndaquil, and Oshawott stood at attention. 

Rei looked between the three of them. His partner was a flying type already, but should he bring him out in Hisui? Is that a good idea? 

He looked to Akari. She said, "dibs on Oshawott. I've wanted one for a long time." 

Rei was considering the little water type, but he supposed he was a little late on that. Dibs was law, as everyone knew. 

He looked to Cyndaquil. A fire type, small, but he knew what it could become. He knelt down and looked at it. It cocked its head at him. Then it waddled towards him and immediately wriggled into his lap. Akari had picked up Oshawott under the armpits and was hugging it to her chest. 

And then in flashes of light, they were gone. "Here are their balls," Laventon said, handing them each one of the weird smoking balls. Rowlet stood next to him. "Shall we head out for the Fieldlands?" 

The twins nodded as they followed him out the door, adjusting their new waist packs and preparing to leave their old backpacks in their room for the time being. After hearing the talk of them potentially dying being tossed around so carelessly, they had made a pact that they'd each bring their ace, just in case. The birds were their last resorts, but if bad came to worse, it was always better to have an ace up your sleeve. 

—-----------

Emmet jumped when a new voice drifted into the room. He hadn't heard the front door open. "Guys, what's wrong? You look worse than Emmet did when you first disappeared." Elesa was looking between the two of them, eyes glancing over the mounds of books and papers and lists they'd been writing. Ingo had only gotten worse over the last week. Emmet was sure he would collapse any moment. "I've been having radio silence from you and I wanted to check in."

Silence met her question. Ingo's eyes watered as he fought back a fresh wave of tears. 

Emmet took the controls. "Nine days ago, the kids disappeared." He heard Elesa’s breathing hitch. "It was identical to Ingo's disappearance. The sound. Nothing was left behind." He picked up the two devices in the center of the table. "Nothing except their Xtrans and an eyewitness." 

"Oh Arceus…" She stumbled to the table and sat down, her face in her hands. 

"Professor Juniper… she thinks they made their way to Hisui, somehow " he continued. Ingo's face was set as stone, even as hot tears started to fall, his eyes red and tired. "Ingo mentioned the space-time distortions everywhere when he was there. She suspects that if the act was the same, it's likely that they're in the same place and time as he was." 

Elesa took in a breath, removing her hands from her face. She brought them down to the table, nails scratching the wood as she curled them into fists. She breathed in. Out. "That makes some sense. And it gives us somewhere to start," she sighed. 

"So far, all we can find is the hero twins with the same name," Emmet said, showing her a book. "Nothing about them."

"Not every single person was recorded," Elesa countered. "There's a non-zero chance they were dropped there and just not written about." 

"But that leaves the question, how do we get to them?" Emmet pulled out another book. "We can only find two possible ways there, and both of them are long shots." He set down one, flipping to the bookmarked page and showing the photo to Elesa. "One is Dialga. It is a Sinnoh legend, said to be the creator of time itself." She looked at the page, skimming the information as he brought out a different, thicker book. The bookmark came out as he flipped to the page and he pointed to a drawn diagram inside. "And two is Celebi," he pointed, "a mythical being said to be able to hop through time like a fish through a river." He sighed. "The only issue is, all we have are a few witness accounts. There's no way to tell if they even exist."

Elesa studied the book as Ingo excused himself. The bathroom door slammed shut somewhere else in the house. 

She looked at Emmet. "Is he…"

"No." Emmet glanced to the doorway his brother had left through. "He has not eaten or slept at all since we got the call. He's constantly looking, searching…"

"Like someone else I can think of," she interjected, staring him down with a knowing glance. "And you don't exactly look much better, Em." 

He didn't need to think about that. He needed to take care of his brother. "Don't worry about me," he said. "The sooner we find them, the sooner we can go back to normal." 

Elesa kept her eyes trained on him, but said nothing.

[First] - [Previous] - [Next]

[ariadote]

things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear. (kill me softllllyyyy)

@635mph 

(1)On the street of Rue Crémieux there is a bakery that she used to visit. The warm smell of bread that perfumes the air is what originally attracted her to the shop but it was the rows upon rows of homemade bread, jam, and pastries that lure her in frequently and to leave approximately 15 to 20 minutes later with the smell of rye bread and it’s caraway seeds cling to her clothing.

(She doesn’t mind.)

(2) The shop becomes a home away from home — Aria stops by often enough to be considered a regular. Soon after, one of the bakers offer her a cooking class for free, which she accepts. Aria falls in love with the little shop, nearly loves it as much as she loves Skyler. (but only nearly.)

(3) Aria takes small, careful steps each sound she makes seems to create a type of an echo that bounces off the hardwood floors and steel cooling racks as she approaches the pantry. Inside, everything is in a chaotic disarray. The footsteps left in the flour spilled everywhere give her a path to follow, and a pattern of behavior to help re-imagine the offenders process. 

First. they shoved the sugar packed tightly in packages of paper off the shelves where it fell to the floor and burst open. 

Second. the vanilla and other flavorings were also roughly pushed aside where it hit the granite of the counters and shattered into pieces. Aria turns away from the brown liquid that drips off the counter that currents places the room in an overwhelming scent of sweetness.

Third. A few of the shelves were upturned and then the boxes of aged wine are forcibly ripped open, yet their contents remain untouched. 

Fourth. Juwon finds what he’s looking for behind a pile of boxes. This is where Aria finds him, on the floor with an old vintage cinema projector at his feet, watching reel after reel of videos being projected onto the wall. His eyes are blood stained, his coat is covered in a fine layer of flour but a lazy, twisted smile rests on his lips because he’s found her out. 

He found her safe and broken into it. 

(4) Aria’s fury is containable. There is banging on the front locked doors of the shop, and she can hear the sounds of a million people outside. It wouldn’t be long before her subconscious gets into ripe him into shreds, tear his heart out, destroy him for betraying her like this. 

It wants him dead.

“Are you satisfied now, Juwon.” Aria’s tone is laced with bitter poison her eyes falling on the video of herself screaming as Jack pulls her away from the gruesome scene of the wreck that killed her parents. On screen, she fights him, scratches his arms with her nails, repeatedly trying to get him to let her go even though she’s bleeding, they’re both bleeding. The video switches.

Her breath catches in her throat when the image projected is one of Skyler during one of his episodes in the dead of night. He’s murmuring to himself fighting against his dead sister who keeps coming back for him, whispering to him to leave Aria. To take responsibility for what he’s done to her. 

“Do you still think that my love is easy? Is this what you wanted to see?”

(5) The scene of the video changes once again.

It opens up to a large ballroom. It’s washed in golden lights, and the ceiling is decorated with chandeliers that catch the light and reflect in a way that screams wealth. Skyler appears, trying to push the sleeves of his white tuxedo up as he walks quickly, weaving his way through the throng of people over crowding the room. “I’m done talking about this, Aria.”

“I’m not.” Aria follows after him tucking the fallen strands of her hair back into place behind her ear with the rest that is pinned back. “You know that he isn’t ready! Juwon is unpredictable, brash, and —“ she stops to grab a bit of her dress in her hands so she can lift the hem off the ground. After she does this, she speeds up in her pursuit. “And overall a mess. I don’t want him on our team.” 

“You could argue the same points against Jack.” Skyler responds through clenched teeth, still walking steps ahead. “Juwon has got all the credentials we need.He may not be as experienced but the kid has a sharp intellect.”

“You only like him because he’s just like you!” Aria snaps, finally catching up. 

A few people stare at the heated exchange with interest but neither stop to entertain them “I said we’re done talking about this, Ariadne.” 

That was her sign to leave it alone but of course, when Aria stops dead in her tracks she watches as Skyler starts to climb the staircase not bothering to look to see if she was still behind him she can’t let it go. 

“He’s not stable, Skyler.” 

Even with his back to her, Aria can see the shift in demeanor when Skyler stops, turns sharply on his heel to face her. “And I suppose you think that I am… stable?” his voice is soft, and dangerous. The question hangs uncomfortably in the air. 

 Aria immediately closes her mouth, small fingers let go of the red satin fabric of her ballgown to fiddle with one of her pearl drop earrings instead. She gives a small shrug of her shoulders. It’s the wrong answer regardless of wither she’s said anything or not.

“Ariadne.” Skyler repeats her name. All his emotions tied up into one word, before he shakes his head. “We’re all mad here.” 

(5) The video goes black she hears the glass of the front door shatter. In a matter of seconds, she is pushed aside as they attack Juwon. When they wake, Aria sits up slowly a sense of dread settles deeply in the pit of her stomach. “Congratulations,” Aria says bitterly. “You’re a part of the team.” 

Then she looks at Juwon, catching his gaze with hers, “You’ve just given Elymas the power to kill me.” This is when the angry, bitter tears start to fall. She wipes them away with the back of her hands, “I only ask one thing. Promise me you won’t tell Skyler.” 

Even if the mission fails or you have to leave me, don’t tell Skyler.

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

hi, i am stepping out of my little hidey-hole away from the fandom to talk about jester and artagan’s relationship development in episode 107.

a lot of this is a response. i’ve seen a few takes now about how suspicious it was that artagan emphasized the temporary nature of their relationship, and speculating that this is foreshadowing his eventual abandonment of jester. moreover, i’ve seen speculation on jester’s line, “you’re my best friend. no matter what, you always will be,” as similar foreshadowing of her leaving artagan.

honestly? i think these takes completely misunderstand the subtext of their conversation.

like, you guys. artagan was emphasizing how their relationship was temporary because he's immortal. he basically said so out loud. jester will inevitably die, very soon from his perspective, and she will go gods-know-where afterward and never see him again either (or at least not for a very long time). he tells her: “i’ve lived a very long time. i’ve made many friends and lost many friends. so i don’t expect things to always last.”

recall that this discussion of temporary things follows jester’s line of “you’re my best friend. no matter what, you always will be.” so before i get further into artagan’s train of thought here—why did jester say that?

well, because the one thing she was ultimately so distressed about re: her relationship with artagan was whether or not he cared about her for her.

we’ve seen jester often worry about the traveler’s love for her. as early as episode 31, she felt enough insecurity about his apparent absence during her kidnapping by the iron shepherds that she vandalized the temple to bahamut in zadash to try and regain what she thought was lost favor. when she opens up about her later concerns in episode 91 to caleb, how does she frame them? well, she’s worried that the traveler doesn’t like her anymore because she’s not doing some religious duty, when she never before saw herself as a priest to a god. she simply... had an amazing best friend.

after artagan revealed himself as the traveler, we see jester become preoccupied with the need to be unique—his high priestess, his first and most special follower. she’s matured tremendously over the campaign so far, but this regression to something childish and superficial was her instinctive outward expression of one concern: whether artagan loved her.

she eventually puts this worry of hers in words in episode 105. from the transcript (breaks and emphases mine):

(1:14:28)

LIAM: What if it were just you and him, like your old days?

LAURA: I don't think that's a bad thing. You know? He— He was really wonderful then. He was my best friend.

I know all of you are concerned that maybe he's taking advantage or he doesn't have our best interests. Which who knows, maybe he doesn't. But, he really... got me through a lot when I was younger, you know? And he was all I had, really, and... He was wonderful. He taught me so much.

If it just was him being my friend again, I'd be okay with that.

(1:18:25)

TRAVIS: Jester, we all want what's best for you, of course. Have you talked to him at all about going back to just the way things were when you were little, just he and you, as friends?

LAURA: I want to. I want to, I want to. It's just every time we talk he has to disappear so fast. Before, he used to be here all the time, you know?

jester has finally figured out what she wants from artagan, and why the situation has stressed her out so much. ultimately, she just wants her best friend back, but she's gotten mixed signals from him so far because of his choice to omit important details and the hectic situation preventing them from communicating.

so how does this tie into episode 107, “you’re my best friend. no matter what, you always will be,” and artagan’s comments on the temporary?

the conversation between the two of them in the end of episode 107 was, more than anything else, an unrushed and honest discussion about their relationship. because before any of this—travelercon, finding out that her god was not really a god, leaving nicodranas for the first time—they were best friends.

so jester talks informally to him. she talks to artagan like he’s an equal, tells him she’s proud of him. and he returns the favor. he compliments her. in fair fey fashion, he apologizes for his mistakes indirectly by subtly talking down on himself. he declines her praise of him and points out his flaws: the ‘mess’ he has made because he didn’t have her guidance, his innate selfishness, and his condescension of mortals and how he has hurt people however unintentionally (unsaid is how that included her).

it’s artagan’s apology that jester accepts when she tells him, “you’re my best friend. no matter what, you always will be.”

and he responses to that reassurance with a reminder of how temporary their relationship is, but not as a prelude to him leaving her, or to foreshadow an ‘inevitable’ breaking of their friendship. this transition in topic is artagan’s own laying-out of his perspective, needs, and boundaries the same way jester laid out hers with her forgiveness.

you’re my best friend and always will be, jester says���that’s all i ever wanted.

i appreciate that, i do, artagan replies—but you can’t promise ‘always’ here. someday soon you’ll die, and i'm effectively immortal. i've already lived for a very long time. even then, my take on friendship is inherently a bit alien and may not be what you want in the end. but (as he says aloud, emphasis mine) “with the time that i’ve had, i’ve learned to appreciate it—the temporary things. [...] when things are temporary, and you know it, and you understand it, you truly savor it.”

so one might call it a warning, in the sense that you might call any honest discussion of a relationship a warning. let’s remember that artagan is an archfey; words have many meanings, honesty is a bush to beat around, and promises are truly significant. to correct jester’s promise of 'always’ would be important to someone like an archfey. and a conversation that’s as emotionally vulnerable as one can get from a fey is an act of true sincerity on artagan’s part.

moreover, he does make a promise here to jester, however nonexplicit. he understands that their time together is short, whether they grow apart in jester’s lifetime or if they are best friends until her death. but rather than that reducing the significance of their relationship, artagan will deeply cherish this and the time he does have with her.

judging by how jester reacts with quiet understanding, she hears him. and it's okay with her, because it's clear that she's still his friend.

the fact that he's an immortal archfey is small beans, really. before, she was 100% okay with being best friends with a god.

finally, there’s this lovely thread on twitter by @/otdderamin (linked) composed mostly of an analysis of matt’s dming style—specifically, how he crafts characters’ plotlines based on the tastes of their players. to quote her:

And Laura loves stories about teaching deeply wounded & messy people that they are worthwhile & in so doing to recognize that worth in yourself. Matt has never hurt Laura with her backstory at all, & more than she set it down. He weaves it in, but the story only gets better.

If Laura wants sunshine and dick jokes and wild imagination and a refusal to give into darkness, then by good that's what Matt will give her. A good DM only hurts their friends with consent and teaches them the lessons they asked to learn.

[...] "Matt intends to hurt Laura to teach her a lesson about having hope" sounds exactly as ridiculous as "the Wachowskis sisters never intended The Matrix to be a trans allegory."

the idea that matt plans to inevitably hurt jester with artagan is, really? antithetical to why he dms this campaign for the cast in the first place.

put simply, artagan and jester’s conversation at the end of episode 107 was a positive resolution for the two that made me very happy. all signs point to their friendship not only continuing on, but strengthening now that travelercon has been figured out, artagan will have more time to dedicate to jester, and they’ve finally had an honest and reassuring conversation about what they want and what each see their relationship as. i’m very excited to see where matt and laura take these two in future episodes.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Terra Nullius

For my podcast this week, I read my Mar 2019 Locus column, "Terra Nullius," about the way that Locke's property theory ("I found this stuff nobody was using, added my labor, now it's mine") is an act of erasure and sometimes a prelude to genocide.

https://locusmag.com/2019/03/cory-doctorow-terra-nullius/

The germ of the column came from the bizarre tale of Aloha Poke, a company started by non-Pacific Islanders in Chicago that then threatened Hawaiians who operated poke restaurants whose name included the word "poke."

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/food/wp/2018/07/30/a-midwestern-chain-told-hawaiians-to-stop-using-aloha-with-poke-igniting-a-heated-debate

These guys are perfect Lockean grifters, because their claim implies that "aloha" was an unimproved natural resource that they mixed with their branding endeavor and converted to property.

It's a ghastly microcosm for the whole genocidal enterprise of settler colonialism. For settlers to square the morality of stealing indigenous land, they had to first declare the land to be uninhabited ("terra nullius"), and then claim ownership based on their "improvements."

And it reveals the extent to which all of Locke's property theory is grounded in erasure: there's nothing in the world that isn't in relation to others. There's nothing that's just lying around, waiting for Lockeans to pick it up and turn it into property.

To make Locke work, you have to zero out everyone else's claim. In particular, you have to zero out claims that don't assert exclusive property rights - if no one can authorize you to buy something, it isn't property, so you can just take it.

This is the thread that runs through all our property relations, but especially "intellectual property," whose incoherence can be traced directly back to this phenomenon.

Edgar Allan Poe invented mystery stories. We can either all pay his estate a royalty every time we write a mystery, or we can pretend his invention wasn't an invention. There's no middle ground for Locke.

To make things more complicated, Poe invented the mystery story more or less simultaneously with several other authors who had no knowledge of Poe's work. There's a reason for that, which Kevin Kelly describes in his 2010 book WHAT TECHNOLOGY WANTS.

Kelly describes something he calls "the adjacent possible." The basic idea behind inventions pops up all the time, suggested by the underlying principles that are combined to make invention. But inventions can't be invented until they're possible.

So lots of people can observe the twirl of a maple key and the action of a wine-screw and muse about something that looks like a helicopter, but no one can make a helicopter until we've got the full complement of helicopter-adjacent inventions.

But as those inventions - metallurgy, internal combustion, aerodynamics - emerge, the idea of a helicopter gets more and more obvious, and more and more people think of them and try to invent them.

Inevitably, when the helicopter is born, there are overlapping claims to the invention, from all the people who successfully combined all the adjacent stuff that had been invented.

These inventors want to be Lockean titans, but to achieve that, they need to zero out all the stuff that came before. Like the mystery writer who denies Poe's contribution, they assert metallurgy and internal combustion were unimproved nature they mixed with their labor.

There's a power realpolitik here: if you want to zero someone else's claim, you'd better be able to trounce them when they strike back and cry thief. So while the Lockean delusion may be widely distributed, it's most successfully realized when it's wielded by the powerful.

Which is why the Beatles can appropriate R&B and call it inspiration, but hiphop artists can't sample the Beatles and declare them to be labor-blended raw material that is now their property.

I like the Beatles. I like hiphop that remixes the Beatles. I don't think the answer is to create a property fence around R&B, declare some R&B artist to be its true owner and make everyone else beg permission to make R&B.

I think the right answer is to erase Locke. Mixing labor with stuff DOES create an interest, but it's not an exclusive interest. Invention isn't the work of a titan, it's the emergent property of a moment. Above all, recognize the power dynamics lurking beneath the surface.

I turned this column into a speech and delivered it as a speech at the Internet Archive's Grand Reopening of the Public Domain event in January 2019. You can listen to that here:

https://archive.org/details/ClosingKeynoteForGrandReopeningOfThePublicDomainCoryDoctorowAtInternetArchive

and watch it here:

https://archive.org/details/ClosingKeynoteForGrandReopeningOfThePublicDomainCoryDoctorowAtInternetArchive_201901

Here's the podcast episode:

https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/08/11/terra-nullius/

and the MP3:

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_354/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_354_-_Terra_Nullius.mp3

and my podcast feed:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

[fiftyshadesofcorona]

Fifty Shades of Corona

A Brief Note Before You Begin

This novel is intended to be semi-satirical and "so stupid that it's funny", so please do not take it too seriously. It is meant to be savored enjoyed, sip by precious sip, like a fine wine…or something…either alone or amongst your most well-humored friends.

Epigraph

“But it is only in epic tragedies that gloom is unrelieved. In real life tragedy and comedy are so intermingled that when one is most wretched ridiculous things happen to make one laugh in spite of oneself.”

Georgette Heyer

Prelude

The forested roads of Northern Washington are eery and empty as I race back to him.

It was the last thing that I expected to happen during the global Coronavirus pandemic.

It came on fast, terrifying and all-consuming—gripping my heart and invading my mind.

I still can’t believe it…

I’ve fallen in love.

I glance over at my phone resting silently on the passenger’s side seat.

My stomach twists with grief and my knuckles go bone-white against the steering wheel.

Why hasn’t he called?!

What if—

I shake the thought away before I can finish it. If I let my mind go there it will be the end of me.

A few days ago, I didn’t even know he existed.

Now I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to exist again without him.

I swipe at my cheeks, hot tears streaking my hand.

This is bad.

This is so so bad.

The seaside exit comes into view.

I lean forward and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

Nearly there.

I hope he’s okay.

I hope I can see him.

Even if it’s our last goodbye.

Tears well in my eyes.

I hope I’m not too late.

Chapter One

The Mob

“See you tomorrow, Ana! And thanks for bringing the cupcakes. They were delicious!”

I turn to wave goodbye to my coworker Jessica, who’s still busy stocking the shelves with sewing supplies. Jessica’s the only other worker here at Karen’s Krafts besides myself and our dome-haircut-wielding owner-slash-manager, Karen.

“I’m glad you liked them,” I say brightly. “They’re my grandmother’s recipe. Super easy.”

“No kidding?” she says, looking surprised. “Well tell your grandma her recipe was the bomb.”

“Will do. See you tomorrow!” I begin to clock out of the computer, but stop to add, “And good luck with the crowds. This Coronavirus stuff is crazy!”

Jessica steps back and gives me a look.

“Tell me about it! I’m running low on toilet paper, but nobody has it stocked.”

“Dang. That sucks.”

“Ch—tell me about it.”

I finish clocking out.

“Anyway,” I say, sighing. “I better get going. I have to make a run and try to pick up some…ahem…lady products…if you know what I mean.”

Jessica’s eyes get big. “Oh no, Ana. You can’t be serious!”

“Very serious. I’m all out.”

Jessica frowns. “I would give you some of mine if I had them, but I’m all out, too. Good thing it’s not my time of the month.”

My eyebrows arch up to my hairline. “Consider yourself lucky.”

“Shit, here she comes,” Jessica whispers.

When I look up, Jessica’s back at work stocking the bobbins and thread.

My manager Karen waddles up to the register and lingers over the back of my shoulder. I finish straightening up the counter, trying my best not to recoil from the hot puffs of breath hitting the back of my neck. I peek back at her dome haircut and put on my customer-service smile.

“What’s up? How did you like the cupcakes?”

I try to guess whether she has a complaint or is just bored. Those are the only two reasons I’ve ever seen Karen willingly leave her office. The unpleasant expression on her face tells me nothing, as it is a permanent feature of hers.

“Cupcakes?” she says distractedly. Glancing down, I notice she’s clutching a clipboard with something on it. Her lips move silently as she reads from whatever it is.

I clear my throat. “I brought some cupcakes this morning. German chocolate. Very tasty.”

She says nothing, so I grab my purse from under the counter. “I hoped they might cheer everybody up. You know, with the virus and all?”

“Virus?!” Her head snaps up, eyes bulging. “You have the virus?!”

“No, I made cupcakes to cheer every—“ I start to explain, but stop myself when I see the blind panic on her face. “No. I don’t have the virus.”

She relaxes and heaves a sigh of relief, which hits me square in the face.

The smell! I hold my breath and try not to make a face.

I shift my purse on my shoulder and open my mouth to tell her goodbye when she spits out, “Say, can I speak to you for a sec?”

Crap. This can’t be good.

“Sure,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice. I set my purse on the counter and wait for her to continue. She clears her throat wetly, looks down at her clipboard, then clears her throat again.

Yep, definitely bad news. I brace myself.

“Ana, we’ve decided to let you go.”

My shoulders tense, and there’s a rush of something terrible down in my stomach.

“Today is your last day,” she continues, reading robotically from her clipboard.

Is she serious? I’ve worked here for a year and a half, never been late for a single shift, and always gotten stellar performance reviews. I’m basically a model employee!

“Thank you for the work you’ve done here, and I wish you the best in your future endeavors,” she finishes.

“You’re firing me?” I ask in a small voice that surprises even me.

“Not exactly…but sort of.”

This can’t be happening. “Wh—what did I do wrong?”

“I didn’t say you did anything wrong, did I?” She looks put-out, another typical expression of hers.

My shoulders relax a little.

“Did you even listen to a word I said?” she says, shaking her head. “I said you’re being put on non-disciplinary indefinite leave.”

I cock my head, confused. “Um, I don’t think that’s what you said.”

She huffs and holds the clipboard back up.

“It’s exactly what I said. See, right here.”

She jabs a finger at the page, face reddening as she purses her lips.

Jeez. And I thought she looked unpleasant before…

She slaps the clipboard onto the counter. “Either way I’m saying it now.”

“So, I’m not fired?”

Crap. I’m so confused right now.

“No,” she huffs again. “You’re not fired. But you’re no longer scheduled for any shifts. And we’ll be taking you off the payroll.”

“Um…okay…”

That sounds a lot like being fired, but I decide not to push the subject.

Tears press at the corners of my eyes as I take a moment to process everything. Karen must notice, because she lets out another sigh and steps towards me. Her hand thumps heavily on my shoulder. “But I want you to know that it’s not you, it’s us.” She pats me once, then steps back, looking pleased with herself.

I suddenly feel like I’m going through an awkward breakup. Which I guess I am in a way.

“Wow. Um…What a surprise.” I catch myself wringing my hands so I stop. “Is it because of the virus?”

“Of course it’s because of the virus!” she shouts. “What else would it be? It’s certainly not my fault! I’ll have you know that Karen’s Krafts is extremely successful,” she gestures wildly. “Perhaps the most successful small business in all of Seattle!“

“You’re right, Karen.” I quickly say the three magic words that always calm her when she gets like this.

Sure enough, she lowers her arms and tries to composes herself.

“You probably haven’t noticed, Ana, but we’re not doing as much business as usual.”

In fact, I have noticed. The store has been totally dead for the last week and a half. But I don’t want to risk setting her off again, so I stay quiet. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to expect me to reply.

“Nothing like the grocery stores,” she says with a bitter laugh. She shakes her head and gives a shrug. “Just have to let some people go for the time being.”

“How long until I’m able to come back?”

She shrugs her shoulders again.

“No way to know. I’m only keeping Jessica because she’s my niece.”

I nod my head.

“Right, right. Makes sense.” Not really, but whatever. I’m totally against nepotism. It sucks and it’s everywhere, but there’s no getting away from it—sort of like Coronavirus.

“Of course it makes sense. That’s why I’m doing it!” Karen snaps. She snatches up her clipboard and turns to walk away. “Anyway, if things get better I’ll call you. Make sure you answer.”

“Thanks,” is all I can muster in response as she disappears into the restroom.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, everything sinks in.

I just lost my job.

During a global pandemic.

“Oh, and Ana!” Karen’s voice booms from the toilet.

I knew she’d change her mind!

“Yes?!” I call out brightly.

“Don’t forget to leave your name tag.”

My shoulders fall.

“Sure thing, Karen.” I unpin the familiar badge from my shirt and set it on the counter. It looks as small as I feel. I take a few deep breaths and turn to leave. All I want right now is to get the hell out of here and get home as soon as possible so I can relax, have a good cry, and think over what to do next.

A thought occurs to me.

What am I going to do about my rent?

Crap. I can feel the tears coming…

A second later, my sadness turns to anger, and I clench my fists.

This sucks so f-ing bad. Like, what the heck did I ever do to deserve this! Ugh!

I force myself to remain composed. This isn’t the time to break down into hysterics.

I give myself a little pep talk.

Calm down, Ana. You’re a fully grown, strong, capable young woman. You’ll get through this. All you need to do is grab hold of your big girl panties and ride them clear up the crack of your ass so hard there’s no chance in hell they’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.

Now that my spirits have been sufficiently lifted, I’m ready to take on the world. Or at the very least, my own small corner of it.

I stop in front of the exit to check my phone and notice seven missed phone calls and three missed text messages from my mother.

I roll my eyes. Of course. She’s a typical narcissistic, panicky boomer. At sixty-five years old she’s never worked a day in her life, attends church two to three times per week, and still believes in the magic of prayer. It may sound like I hate her, but I don’t. She annoys me, sure. But deep down I keep telling myself she has my best interest at heart, even if what her heart is telling her isn’t actually what’s in my best interest…if that makes any sense. With that said, whatever she has to say is certain to irritate me far beyond what I’m currently able to stand.

I decide to get it over with.

I take a deep breath and read the first text.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. Just texting to let you know I called. I’m very worried about you with all of this virus stuff going on. Praying for you. Love Always, Your Mother.

Okay. Fairly normal so far given the circumstances. Maybe I was wrong to judge her so quickly.

I scroll down to the second text, which looks like it was sent…I squint to see—oh yes: exactly three minutes after the first one, and two minutes after the last three phone calls.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. I’ve been praying and praying for you to call me back. I am deeply worried about you. I’ve tried calling you three more times. It’s not like you to ignore my phone calls, especially during such dark and uncertain times as these. Call me back as soon as you get this. My heart is hurting to know if my sweet little Ana is okay. Love Always, Your Mother.

A little worse this time, but not the worst I’ve seen.

I brace myself for the third text, which I know will be bad because it was sent exactly two minutes after the second text, and one minute after the last three calls.

Mom: Ana, this is your mother. I’m seriously freaking out right now. I keep having visions of you lying in a body bag, stiff as a frozen lamb chop and twice as cold. Why are you being such an obstinate, petulant child? I keep calling and calling, and still no answer. I keep praying and praying, but still no answer. Why aren’t you answering me, dear daughter? Why aren’t you answering me, dear Lord? My heart is heavy with sorrow and worry for the precious daughter I raised and nurtured by the milk of my own breasts. I’m so scared, sweet daughter. My nerves are frazzled and frayed beyond mortal repair. I feel as though I may collapse into a puddle of eternal sorrow. My heart is aching for you, my sweet dear little girl. My sweet, sweet precious daughter. Oh Lord, why have you forsaken her? Call me as soon as you get this. Love Always, Your Mother.

Okay, what the hell? I’m not even going to get started on how freaking weird that was.

I decide it might be better to wait until I get home to call her back. Something tells me the phone call won’t be quick, and I really need to get to the store to get my lady supplies, so I decide to opt for a text instead.

Ana: Calm down, Mom. I’m fine. I just got off work, and now I have to make a run to Wholesome Foods for some supplies. Please don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as I get home. Love, Ana.

Hopefully that suffices to stave off the insanity.

My phone immediately pings with her reply.

Mom: Sounds good. Love Always, Your Mother.

Simple enough. A little odd, given the texts that came before it, but I’ll take it.

I pause and look out the front door before leaving. Beyond the window, thin sheets of rain coat the steamy sidewalks of Seattle. I notice most of the people who pass by look panicked. Ever since the Coronavirus started everyone has seemed more alert and on edge. At first I found it exciting, because they all seemed less depressed and more alive. But now it’s beginning to worry me.

I finger the small silver cross bracelet my grandmother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It had been my great-grandmother’s before it was hers, but I never got the full story behind it. I do, however, remember her telling me it was for courage and strength, which is what I need most right now.

I take a deep breath and push through the door.

The door bell dings, and once I’m outside I breathe in the cool damp air. The rain is lighter than I expected—more of a mist really, so I decide to leave my umbrella unopened and gaze up at the silver clouds as they roil and swirl above me. There’s something wonderful about their movement, and I find myself getting lost in them.

DING! DING! DING! RIGHT SIDE!

My peaceful reverie is rudely interrupted.

DING! DING! DING! RIGHT SIDE!

Shit! Cyclists!

DING! DING! DING!…

I leap left at the last moment, barely dodging a small herd of spandex-clad cyclists thrusting through the crowd like they own the street. I brace myself against a tree to keep from falling over, when one of them—a middle-aged man-child with greying temples—looks back at me and scowls.

I put up my hand to apologize even though he’s probably the one who should be apologizing.

He turns and mutters something under his breath that sounds like “Bitch” and keeps pedaling.

I turn and bite my fingernail. What an asshole.

Crap.

I pull my fingers out of my mouth. That’s probably not the best thing I could be doing during a global viral outbreak.

I reach into my purse for some hand sanitizer and slather the cool alcohol over my fingers.

Two steps into my walk, my phone buzzes.

What now?

I check my phone. It’s Stacy, my best friend and roommate.

Stacy: Are you off work yet!?

My thumbs tap out a reply.

Ana: Just got off.

I look up from my phone. A woman who looks like she might have been sane a week ago but who is now basically a bag lady passes by me with a shopping cart full of bathroom supplies, screaming “Fuck you! Got mine!”

As she passes, I look closer at her hand and spot what appears to be a taser.

I pause and make a face. What the hell has this world come to?

My phone buzzes with another text.

Stacy: Cool. Check it. Blue fish bowls. Remember these things?

A cotton-candy-filtered photo pops up of Stacy slurping down a big blue fishbowl margarita.

I smile at Stacy’s exaggerated duck face.

Then I notice Dezzy in the background. Dezzy’s the friend Stacy brought down to Florida with her for Spring Break instead of me. She looks drunk as she flashes a peace sign with one hand and a middle finger with the other. Ugh. Dezzy can be such a… I’m not even going to say it. She’s always hated me for reasons, which is strange because I never had a problem with her. Oh well. Best to ignore it.

Ana: Looks like fun.

Stacy: ’Tis. ’Tis.

I’m tempted to tell her about being put on indefinite leave, but I don’t want to ruin her good time, so I tuck my phone away. The bad news can wait.

I pass by a homeless man trying to sell face masks on the street corner. As I pass by, I notice half of them are covered in dirt stains and are clearly used, and it’s obvious he’s been digging through the local hospital dumpster to find them.

He shoves one in my face.

“Twenty dollars!”

I move away from him. “No thanks.”

He follows me a few steps. “Ten dollars!”

I shake my head, wincing.

“Five!”

“I’m fine,” I laugh nervously. “Really.”

“Fine. One dollar. Final offer.”

“But they look like you found them in a dumpster, sir!”

“Still good. See, clean enough.” He dangles it in front of my face and turns it so I can see all the sides.

I pull out a dollar and hand it to him, but tell him he can keep the mask.

“You need a mask,” he says, and tries to put it on my face.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” I quickly grab the mask out of his hand before he’s able to touch my face with it.

“God bless!” he spits through his last remaining tusk, and turns to his next victim.

I hold the mask as far away from my body as possible, and toss it in the nearest garbage can. When I turn back to see if the homeless man saw me I catch him glaring at me.

“Sorry,” I mouth.

He scurries over to the garbage can to retrieve it.

Shit!

I run through the crowd to get away from him, and I don’t stop until I’m nearly a block away, where I pull out my phone and text Stacy.

Ana: You should see it here, Stacy. Things are getting crazy.

Stacy: Yeah, no shit. I saw the news. Seattle blows. Florida is way more fun!

Ana: I bet. How’s the silver fox hunt going?

FYI, the real reason Stacy’s down in Florida for Spring Break is to hunt for an older man to marry. And when I say old, I mean like really old. See, Stacy’s life didn’t pan out quite like she had hoped. She failed out of college during her first semester and can’t seem to hold down a job. In her mind, the next logical step is to marry into money. And since most guys with money are older, she figures the older he is the more she’s hedging her bet.

I look around at all the depressed and desperately overworked faces passing by and can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s onto something.

Stacy: Sucks so far. Nothing but poor frat guys with big muscles and orange tans. All the silver foxes are holed up in hiding from the stupid virus.

Ana: Dang. Bad timing.

Stacy: You’re telling me. It’s hard out here for a bitch!

I smile, but it doesn’t last long. Something about her comment reminds me that I’m out of a job.

Should I tell her now?

Probably.

Ana: I feel like I’m about to cry, Stacy. Karen basically just fired me.

Stacy: What!? Why would she fire you? You’re like the best employee ever?

Ana: Well, technically she put me on indefinite leave.

Stacy: What the freak is that?

Ana: It means I don’t get a paycheck for who knows how long, and I don’t know when they’ll hire me back…if ever.

Stacy: That sucks, Banana. I’m sorry. How the heck are we going to pay the rent?

Yeah, she calls me Banana. It’s a play on Ana, if you missed it. She’s clever like that.

Ana: It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’m not sure about the rent, though.

But I’m not okay. My eyes grow hot with tears. What am I going to do for money? Where will I live if we get evicted?

Stacy: Shit. I just realized I won’t have any money left after this trip. Hopefully I can find a silver fox fast. :(

Ana: Hopefully. :(

I turn the corner and see a long line of customers waiting outside Wholesome Foods. People are crammed together, yelling and jostling for position, and for some reason it reminds me of the movie The Night of the Living Dead.

Double crap.

A heavy wave of sickness washes over me, and I feel like I might pass out.

I really don’t want to go to the store right now, so I rifle through my purse in a last ditch effort to find a tampon to hold me over until tomorrow. My fingers find a string.

Ah ha!

But wait…

I pull it out.

Crap.

Not only is it out of its wrapper, it’s covered in lint and snack crumbs and looks like it’s old enough to attend kindergarten.

I drop it back into my purse and tap out a question to Stacy.

Ana: Do tampons expire?

Stacy: No, they’re like condoms. They last forever.

Ana: Um… Are you sure?

Stacy: Totally sure.

I want to trust her, but I’m pretty sure she’s wrong. Looks like I’ll have to wait in line.

I step into line behind a mother and her five children, one of whom is screaming at the top of it’s lungs for no reason.

My phone buzzes with a new text.

Stacy: Hey bitch. How’s your depressing life?

What the?

That was out of nowhere. How many fish bowls has Stacy had so far? Jeez.

I try to figure out how to respond when another text comes in.

Stacy: I’m glad you didn’t come down here with us. It’s better for everyone.

I shake my head, confused.

Ana: Excuse me?

Stacy: Sorry, Dez took my phone.

Ana: Oh. That explains it.

Stacy: Dez was just joking.

Uh huh. Right.

The line moves forward a few steps, and when it stops the crowd lets out a collective sigh.

Stacy: We both wish you were here. You should have come with.

Ana: Somebody had to stay and look after the apartment… Besides, it’s probably not the nicest thing to be down there partying and putting so many people at risk.

Stacy: Get off your high horse Banana! You decided not to go long before the virus happened.

I can’t say she’s wrong.

Stacy begged me to go but I opted to save money and get some extra hours at work.

Oh, the irony.

But if I had decided to go on the trip, I like to think I would have cancelled as soon as I knew it would be putting people at risk. Still, there’s no use in arguing with Stacy.

Ana: I’m probably just jealous.

Stacy: As you should be. Florida is so much better than dreary depressing Seattle.

Ana: Yeah, if you like living in a giant trailer park filled with bugs, alligators, and old people.

Stacy: LoL

I laugh a little as the line moves forward a few paces.

Stacy: Seriously though. Take it easy on the old people. They’re my last ticket to freedom.

Ana: I still think you can do better for yourself, but what do I know?

Stacy: Obviously not much. Face it, I’m fucked if I can’t find a rich man to marry.

She might be right, but I refuse to agree.

Stacy: Besides, old guys are hot. I’m surprised you don’t look for one yourself, given your present circumstance.

I can’t say I’ve ever found older-older men hot. Unless of course the guy was only a little bit older. Then I’d be fine with it.

Ana: I guess I just think I have more potential than that. I’d like to earn my own living and independence some day, even if it’s hard.

There’s a brief pause where she doesn’t reply, and I wonder if I offended her.

Ana: At least that’s what I’m hoping for. Who knows if it will happen.

Stacy: You do you and I’ll do me, Banana.

I roll my eyes.

Ana: Come on, I’m sure there are plenty of decent jobs you could get that don’t require a college degree.

Stacy: Ew gross! I’d rather kill myself than work for a living. Fuck that.

I laugh. She’s right in a way. Work sucks major ass. The only times I’m ever truly unhappy are when I’m at work.

Ana: There might be some truth to what you’re saying.

Stacy: Just wait. One of these days some rich older guy is going to catch your eye. Then you’ll change your mind.

I think it over.

Ana: Okay, and say that does happen. How do you expect I’ll get him? It’s not like I have much to offer besides my youth.

Stacy: Not true. You look great, Banana.

Ana: Whatever. I know what I look like.

Stacy: You don't give yourself enough credit. You’re gorgeous. And totally smart.

Even though I know she’s just saying these things to cheer me up, I still can’t help but smile.

Ana: But seriously, how does one go about snagging a rich man?

Stacy: What you need are some good pick up lines.

Right…

I look up and see that the line has moved quite a bit from where I started. At this rate I’ll be inside in no time.

Stacy: Here’s one I’ve been practicing for my hunt… Have you ever been arrested? Because your looks are killer.

I roll my eyes.

Ana: Maybe I’ll give it a try some day.

Stacy: Do it. You won’t be disappointed.

A fight breaks out at the front of the line.

Seconds later, the two guys fighting are escorted away by a masked security guard and the line moves forward to fill the gap.

As I near the entrance, the crowd noise grows louder, and a swarm of customers break through the exit.

Crap! They’re charging right at me.

I quickly side-step out of their way and a middle-aged white woman with a dome haircut shoves past me into the store, making me do a double-take.

Phew. Not Karen.

As the woman passes by, I overhear a small portion of her phone conversation:

“I’m pretty sure I have it. I’m going to the doctor right now. I just have to stop at Wholesome Foods real quick.”

Holy crap. This place is like a war zone or something.

I enter the store close behind Karen Number 2.

Once inside, I immediately notice two things:

1. Nobody in this store seems to be wearing a mask, and…

2. All the grocery carts and baskets are gone.

I take a deep breath.

Everything’s okay, I tell myself. Just improvise and get out as fast as you can.

I hurry past the entrance and into the toiletry section.

Okay…tampons…where are the tampons?

I look down an aisle and see people lined up at the pharmacy, scrambling for asthma medication and pills. Thank goodness I’m fairly healthy and don’t need any medication. If push comes to shove, I can get by for months on my one-a-day multivitamin.

I step into the feminine hygiene aisle where a group of frustrated women are looking around frantically.

One of them says to the others, “Where are the fucking tampons!”

I look over the shelves, and they’re nearly empty.

Come on…tampons…tampons…there has to be one more pack somewhere.

I start digging through the merchandise, checking back behind the other products.

No luck.

Okay. Think, Ana. Think. What could you do?

My phone buzzes with a text.

Stacy: Where did you go?

Ana: There aren’t any tampons at the store! What am I going to do?”

Stacy: Okay. I’m calling you.

American Girl blares through my phone speakers.

I hold the phone out in front of me and right as I’m about to accept the call a scruffy-looking guy appears out of nowhere and sneezes all over the front of my screen.

I look up at him, totally grossed out.

“Sorry, dude,” he says, then disappears down the aisle.

Crap. There’s no way I’m holding this thing up to my head now.

The song keeps playing, tinny notes ringing out.

A rude woman nearby screams, “Answer your goddamn phone!”

“Sorry,” I mutter, and tap the speakerphone button, careful to avoid the spit droplets on the screen.

The first thing I and everybody within a twenty-five-foot radius hears is an obnoxious slurping sound.

Several shoppers turn and glare at me, so I hurry into a side aisle where there aren’t as many people. “Geez, Stacy. What are you drinking?” I hiss at the phone. “You sound like Lord Buttcrack with his ten gallon gas station sodas.”

Lord Buttcrack is the nickname Stacy and I have given our fat, greedy, disgusting landlord, on account of the fact that we’ve never seen him without half of his butt crack hanging out of his pants.

“Hold it right there,” Stacy says. “Don’t you dare ever compare me to Lord Buttcrack. I love you dearly, but that’s taking it too far. Besides, he sounds more like a butthole.”

I laugh at her drunken simile. “I don’t like that image. Why are you thinking about his butthole?”

“Hey, where there’s a crack, there’s always a hole.”

Um…

“As to your first question,” she continues, “I just finished my third Blue Ocean Fishbowl.”

“Holy crap! You drank three of them? Don’t they come in, like, a literal fish bowl?”

“Mm-hm. And the alcohol content is through the roof.”

“Something tells me you’re going to regret this.”

“Doubt it.”

I sigh.

“Anyway, back to my tampon problem.”

“Where did Joey go?” Dezzy’s voice cuts in.

“Who the hell is Joey?!” Stacy shouts.

“The guy with the muscles, duh,” Dezzy moans in the background.

“They all have muscles!” Stacy cries.

“Ugh…the one with the tan!”

“They all have tans!”

“Hello!?” I say loudly into the phone.

“Oh, sorry. Seriously, Dezzy is being such a bitch.”

“You’re the fucking bitch, bitch!” Dezzy laugh-screams in the background.

“Whatever…” Stacy says. “Back to the problem at hand. Can’t you just wear pads?”

“They’re out of those, too.”

A woman nearby overhears our conversation and approaches me.

“Pads? Did someone say pads? Where are the pads? I need more pads! There have to be more pads!”

Stacy starts laughing so hard she begins to choke.

The woman’s frantic energy scares the crap out of me, so I back away from her and hurry into the clothing section, which seems to be the only empty part of the store.

I duck down under some hanging dresses and tops. “Seriously, Stacy. What should I do?”

“Let me think…” Stacy muses. “Oh, I know! A while back I was watching this TV show about these female prison inmates…”

Great.

“Okay?”

“Bare with me,” she says, sensing my doubt.

“K.”

“Anyway, whenever the prison ran out of tampons, the women would just wad up a bunch of toilet paper and shove it up their pussies.”

Genius. Simply genius.

A woman with a stroller opens the clothing rack and pokes her head in. “Could you keep it down with the profanity? Children are nearby!”

“Fuck off, lady!” Stacy screams at her through the phone.

The woman scoffs and throws the clothing rack closed.

“It’s not the worst idea,” I say. “Only problem is they’re all out of toilet paper as well.”

“Hmm…

“I need more ideas.”

“You could just free bleed,” she says.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s when you…”

“Actually, never mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Totally sure.”

“Fine. Scratch that.. Let’s see…” Stacy makes a weird sucking sound with her mouth while she’s thinking.

Another customer comes by and starts sliding the shirts around me.

“What’s that annoying noise?” Stacy says.

“I’m under a rack of tank tops and someone’s looking through them.”

“Oops, sorry!” The faceless searcher says.

“It’s fine,” I say back nicely.

Stacy gasps. “I know!”

“What?”

“Why don’t you just cut up a tank top and shove it up your pussy?”

I laugh.

“Come on. That’s ghetto.”

“Yeah. But what else are you going to do?”

She’s got a point. What if this is the answer?

“But I don’t wanna!” I groan into the phone.

“I know it sucks, Banana. But it’s probably your only option.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

I crawl out from under the clothing rack and grab three spaghetti strap tank tops.

“Do you think three is enough?”

“Um…probably.”

“Okay. Good to go. Now it’s time to get the hell out of here.”

“You go girl!”

As I’m walking towards the front checkout, I spot some cotton balls out of the corner of my eye.

Hmm. These could be useful.

I snag them off the shelf.

“Hey, Stacy, do you think cotton balls…”

“WHAT!” someone screams on Stacy’s end.

A man across the aisle glares at me.

I mouth “sorry” and turn away.

“Quiet down,” I hiss. “Or I’m hanging up.”

“IS THIS ANA?!”

Shit. It’s Dezzy again.

“Dez, put Stacy back on the phone,” I whisper.

“FUCK YOU, ANA! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“WOO! SPRING BREAK!” Dezzy screams so loud my speaker pops.

I hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket.

When I get to the front of the store, I join the back of the nearest line and take in my surroundings. All around me carts are overflowing. Off to my left, a plump woman is loading fifteen large cases of soda onto the conveyor belt, and the guy behind her has nothing but vanilla puddings and beef jerky.

He catches me staring and smiles at me. Holy hell! All his teeth are missing. I don’t even want to guess how he’s going to eat all that jerky.

“Next!” a young female voice calls from the front of the line.

I turn toward the register, but can’t seem to see the girl who said it. All I see is some sort of contraption where the register should be that looks like four broom sticks wrapped in layers of cellophane.

The dome-headed woman ahead of me huffs up to the register and hacks onto the cellophane.

Holy crap! It’s the Karen Clone from earlier!

I leave some distance between us and try not to breathe in whatever she’s hacking.

“Excuse me!” Karen Number 2 brays at the cellophane. “You forgot to ask me if I found everything I was looking for.”

The cellophane sucks in and releases with a sigh, and the disembodied voice from earlier returns. “Did you find everything you were—“

“No. I. Did. Not.” Spittle from Karen Number 2’s mouth hits the cellophane with each word. “And I need to speak to your manager. Immediately.”

The girl behind the plastic lets out another sigh. “Randy! Customer for you.”

A ruddy-faced man shuffles our way, but before he makes it to the register, Karen Number 2 marches towards to him.

“Next!” the girl behind the cellophane says, not caring if the woman loses her place in line.

I step forward to the register.

“I think some people are worse than the virus,” she says from behind the barrier.

I laugh. “No kidding.”

She sighs and the plastic wrap squeaks.

I clear my throat. “Um…What is this thing?”

“Modified spit guard. Courtesy of my dumb asshole manager.”

I laugh. “It looks pretty…um…”

“Shit?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I giggle.

“It would be better if he hadn’t triple wrapped the cellophane. Now I can’t see anything.”

“Why are most managers such bozos?” I scoff.

“Because the owners know if they were too smart they’d quit.”

I think it over. “Then why are some of the employees so smart?”

“Because it doesn’t matter if they quit.”

I laugh. It’s so true!

Then it occurs to me. “Why can’t you just wear masks and gloves?”

“Mr. Bozo thinks it will scare the customers.”

I frown at the plastic wrap.

“Wow. That’s really stupid.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs.

My heart goes out to the girl trapped behind the cellophane. Her face is so blurred that I wouldn’t even know she was a girl if it weren’t for her voice.

“Nobody sees us and nobody cares,” she says hauntingly.

A chill runs down my spine.

I don’t know what to say, so I look down at my feet.

“Your total comes to $17.20.”

Crap, that’s expensive. I really wish they were carrying tampons.

I pull out my wallet and grab two tens.

When I look up I notice there’s a card reader, but no way to get her the cash.

“Um…all I have is cash.”

A tiny index finger appears above the cellophane, then points down. “Make it rain on this bitch.”

I fold the bills into fourths so they don’t scatter, then toss them over. “Keep the change.”

“Oh wow. Thanks,” She says. Her voice is different this time, less depressed. “Seriously, I need it.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

“Psh! Thanks,” she says with a laugh.

I laugh, too. “K, bye.”

Behind me, the ruddy-faced manager announces that the store is closing in ten minutes, and half the customers groan.

A woman in the cereal aisle screams, “This is bullshit! I need food for my kids!”

Behind me, a mob forms around the checkouts and people flood into the entrance.

Crap. Time to get out of here.

The woman from the personal care aisle who needed pads exits empty-handed in front of me and her face looks absolutely furious. When she gets outside, she turns around, pulls out the waistband of her sweatpants, reaches down between her legs, and rips out a used pad!

I gasp. Oh no!

In one swift motion, she slaps the bloody pad on the grocery store window, where it sticks like a suction cup animal.

“This is what you get for not having pads!” she screams like a banshee.

The crowd behind me groans with disgust.

What in the actual fuck?

A thick wave of nausea washes over me, and I feel like I might puke.

I search for another way out, but this is the only exit, so I step in front of the door and try not to look at the bloody pad stuck to the window. But for some reason I can’t help myself, and when I look up, the door slides open and the pad smears fresh blood across the glass before falling down onto the sidewalk.

Oh my God, WTF!

I throw up a little in my mouth, but manage to make it outside.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, the moment I step out I spot a trashy-looking mother trying to steal a mask off the face of a middle-aged man so her son can wear it.

“Come on,” she says, “he needs it more than you do!”

“Even if I wanted to give it to him, it’s a bad idea,” the poor guy says. “I could be carrying the virus!”

“Bullshit!” she screams. “Hand it over!”

She lurches for his mask and rips it loose.

Holy crap! What should I do?

A loud pop rips through the crowd, and the trashy woman falls to the ground and twitches around like she’s being electrocuted.

I turn and look down at the poor guy’s hand and see that he’s holding a taser.

“Oh my God, did you just tase her?” a woman from the crowd cries out.

“She was trying to steal my mask!” the poor guy says.

“You’re an animal!” a pregnant woman seethes as she clutches her belly protectively.

“How could you?” says someone in the crowd.

“The poor thing,” adds yet another.

The next thing I know, three white knight teenage boys are on top of the poor guy, beating him with their fists.

I cover my mouth with my hand, horrified by their savagery.

People leaving the store join in the fight, and within seconds it’s a full-on mob.

What the crap! It just keeps getting worse! I need to get out of here.

I dash for an clear spot of sidewalk near the curb, but right as I’m about to break free from the hoard, an errant body slams into me, sending me headfirst into the street. The pavement comes rushing towards my face, and at the last moment my hands shoot up just in time to stop me from landing face-first. I slide violently out into the street as my hands scrape along the asphalt, splashing puddle water into my face. The pain is immense and brings back vivid memories of the times I used to fall off my bike.

When I finally manage to look up I see that everything I just bought has been strewn out into the roaring traffic. The tank tops are stained brown and the cotton balls are soaked black.

A car honks and swerves, barely missing my head as my face is thrashed with water.

I gasp for breath as I crawl backwards towards the sidewalk.

Another car roars by, flattening everything I bought into a puddle.

Hot tears well in my eyes.

People behind me are asking each other what to do, but nobody makes a move to help me up.

Just then, a large SUV stops in front of me, and I catch sight of my reflection in the polished silver paint.

I gasp out in horror. The girl I see looking back at me looks like she just crept out of a lake.

The tinted rear passenger-side window rolls down a crack.

“Are you okay?” A dark voice says.

I squint at the tint, hoping to catch sight of the faceless man speaking to me, but all I can make out is a dark shock of hair. I push myself up from the puddle and step towards him.

“Stay back!” he says. His voice is so loud it echoes through the street, startling me.

I shuffle back two steps, look down and ring my hands.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t,” he says, then lets out a long, loud sigh. “I apologize for my tone, but I would prefer not to risk contact.”

“I totally understand. I—”

“Listen, are you okay?” he snaps, interrupting me.

A laugh escapes me. “Obviously not!”

I’m surprised by my own frankness, but something takes hold of me.

“I mean, its not like I just lost my job and won’t be able to pay my rent this month!”

Someone giggles behind me as the mysterious man in the backseat of the SUV remains silent.

“And…and… it’s not like I’m on my period right now and can’t seem to find a box of tampons or pads to save my life!”

A couple more people laugh.

I take a deep breath, about to cry as my voice grows louder.

“And it’s not like spaghetti strap tank tops were the only reasonable alternative!”

The laughter behind me stops.

“Damn!” someone shouts from the silenced crowd.

But I don’t care, and my voice only grows louder still.

“And it’s not like I had to fight through ten thousand assholes just to get that!”

I turn around and see several angry faces staring me down.

“And it’s not like you fucking animals shoved me into the street and the spaghetti strap tank tops I was supposed to shove up my pussy are now rotting at the bottom of a water-filled pothole!”

A pimple-faced teenage boy doubles over in laughter.

“Oh my God!” he says, wagging his finger at me. “She’s good.”

“Fucking animals, huh?!” a man in the crowd yells. “I’ll show you who’s a fucking animal!”

The man staggers forward, knocking into the people around him, and out of nowhere someone punches him in the face.

Oh no!

For a moment he’s dazed, but when he finally manages to regain his senses he throws a wild punch and the crowd resumes its frenzied fight.

I turn back to the window and cover my face, about to cry.

“Where do you live?” the disembodied voice in the SUV says. His tone is unexpectedly sympathetic.

What? Why is he asking me this? Why would he care where I live?

I gaze up through my tears at the window.

Should I tell him?

The thought seems crazy. He’s a complete stranger. I mean, I haven’t even seen his face.

I feel the crowd pushing at my back, and in one swift surge of motion, they shove me up against the window.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” I cry. I try to turn around so I can say it to their faces, but the pressure is too much.

I turn and see two dazzling grey eyes staring back at me through the crack. The expression is fierce and intense, but for some reason I trust them.

“First Street,” I whimper. “I live near First Street.”

His eyes bore into mine as the crowd locks me in place.

Behind me, people begin to scream and shove each other.

The steel grey eyes look past me into the crowd and the next thing I know a folded hundred dollar bill appears next to my face.

I stare at the money, confused.

“It’s for your rent. To get by.”

What the?

I hesitate to take it.

“Take it or leave it.”

I reach forward to take it, and as I clasp the crisp paper, my finger brushes against his smooth, warm skin.

I look up into his eyes and this time they’re black. His brow furrows.

My breath hitches, and something tugs deep down in the pit of my stomach.

Behind me, a shrill woman shouts, “You got any toilet paper in there?”

The crowd moves forward, pressing me harder from behind and forcing my arm through the window.

“Son of a bitch!” the musical voice hisses from inside the cabin.

The crowd keeps pressing, and I scream out in pain.

Another voice from behind me calls out, “Hey rich boy! You gonna come bail us out!?”

The laughter is insane.

Hot breath brushes the back of my neck, giving me flashbacks of Karen standing behind me.

I look into his fierce eyes and for a moment I read an expression that looks like pity or fear, but I’m not sure which.

A gunshot rings out, and the glass on the rear driver’s side explodes into the cabin.

I scream in terror.

“Fuck!” the man says.

I can see people on the other side of the cabin leaning into the SUV.

“Ohh! It’s nice in here!” a haggard woman says, peering inside.

“Get back, you!” the man shouts.

I wish I could help him, but I’m stuck.

He leans forward and screams at the driver.

“Damnit, Calloway! They’re breathing into the cabin!”

“You hear that?” someone behind me says. “Richie Rich doesn’t want us breathing his fancy-pants air!”

“All right then,” an older man with an ugly voice screams. “Let’s give it to him! Charge!”

The crowd rushes forward, smashing me against the window.

I try to escape, but I’m locked in place.

All around me, ugly voices are screaming ugly things in ugly ways.

I suddenly feel like my spine is being crushed from behind.

“Help!” I yelp. “Somebody help me!”

“Fuck it, it’s too late now,” he says, his beautiful voice breaking through the garbled roar of the crowd.

The tinted window zips down and a pair of large hands cup my waist.

“What are you doing?” I say, startled by his strength.

“Watch your head,” he whispers against my ear, dizzying my senses.

The world around me spins, and for a moment everything is a blur. The next thing I know, I’m laying on my back looking up at the ceiling. All around me voices are growing in number, and I instinctively curl into the fetal position, nuzzling my face into his chest and inhaling his clean scent as his strong protective arms pull me closer to him.

Despite all the commotion around me, for the first time in forever, I feel safe.

The vehicle begins to rock back and forth from the thrashings of the human horde.

“Damnit, Calloway. They’re trying to tip us!”

“Can I run them over, sir?”

“I believe that would be unwise,” the man replies with a hint of humor.

The driver rubs his hand back and forth over his buzz cut. “Right, sorry.”

A loud noise startles me, and my hands shoot up to protect my face, smearing mud across the front of his suit.

Oh no!

I look up to apologize, and for the first time I see his face.

Oh my freaking God!

Chapter Two

Dark Knight

His face is perfect.

The symmetry is flawless. The bone structure is divine. His cheek bones are so strong and pronounced, it wouldn’t surprise me if he once was, or still is, a runway model. A thick shock of hair hangs over his right eye in a way that’s pleasantly distracting. If I were to guess his age I’d say he couldn’t be any older than 25, although his expression and mannerisms are more like those of a man twice his age.

His grey eyes narrow at me, and my heart leaps in response.

I try to look away, but my eyes are locked on his.

His pupils dilate, eclipsing the grey, and all at once I feel lightheaded.

Holy crap. What’s happening to me? I feel like I might faint.

His face softens, his eyes blinking gently, and I can’t help but notice his lashes are long for a man’s.

I should really look away, but for some reason I can’t. It’s as though I’m tethered to his gaze by some mysterious force.

In one smooth motion he turns towards the driver.

“Step on it. But don’t hurt them.”

The vehicle lurches forward, and outside the window, the crowd rushes by in a blur.

For the first time I notice beautiful classical music playing from the car’s speakers, a refreshing contrast to the the howling wind and chaotic street noise.

“Mahler,” I whisper.

It comes out unintentionally, and I’m suddenly overcome with embarrassment.

He turns back to me and eyes me with a look of surprise. “You know the composer?”

My heart skips a beat as I stare into his eyes. I want to say yes, but all I can do is nod.

He scowls and turns to the driver. “Turn off the music. It’s mixing with the street noise and giving me a headache.”

The driver nods. “Yes, sir.”

What the? Why why would he do that? Is he mad at me or something?

The music stops, and all that’s left is the howling wind as the world flies by outside the window.

He lifts me up off his lap and places me in a nearby seat. “Can you buckle yourself in?”

My mouth opens to respond, but he’s already reaching across my lap. “Very well,” he says, taking control as he begins to buckle me in. His arms feel good pressed against me, warm and reassuring, and I like the smell of his hair, but something about the aggressiveness of his gesture puts me off.

“I can do it,” I say, but he ignores me.

I bite my lip, unsure of what to do, and look down at his hands. The first thing I notice are his platinum cuff links. The design is simple, but the pieces look intricately crafted and expensive. My eyes wander to his long, tapered fingers as he buckles me in and smoothes the belt up over my chest, careful to remain decent.

Once finished, he sits back in his seat, and I’m finally able to take in the rest of him.

His body is long, lean, and muscular, and his proportions are refined. Besides the mess I’ve made of his suit, everything about his attire is crisp and clean. He’s wearing a well-fitted dark navy suit and slacks, a starched white undershirt, and an intricately patterned silver tie. The outfit looks expensive and custom tailored.

I look down at the used shirt I picked up the other day at the thrift store for a dollar fifty-five, and notice that mud is dripping down through my legs onto the soft leather car seat. I fidget nervously at the sight, and the puddle under me makes a squishy sound.

His eyes dart in my direction.

I lean back a little, revealing the puddle. “Sorry, I’m all wet.”

He purses his lips. “Don’t tell me that’s piss.”

What!? My face flushes with embarrassment. “No! It’s not, it’s just… I’m so sorry,” I mutter, trying to contain the drips.

He sighs and leans forward, flipping open the center console.

I flinch.

He stops and looks at me. “Calm down.”

I nod and exhale, trying to relax.

He pushes a black button and a crystal champagne set raises up from inside the console.

Scowling, he grabs a black silk champagne towel, unfurls it with a flourish, and hands it to me.

“Here.”

When I grab it, his fingers graze mine, and something electric passes between us.

Whoa.

That was crazy. Did he feel it, too?

He leans back in his seat and clears his throat, clearly affected.

He did!

A smile tugs at my lips.

He narrows his eyes at me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I say, flattening my expression as I dab up my mess. “Ahem…so, where are we going?”

“To your apartment.”

What? A pang of fear courses through me. “How do you know where I live?”

He gives me a strange look. “You told me back in the street. You don’t remember?”

I think back, replaying the awful sequence of events.

“Oh yeah.” I say, shaking my head. “How could I have forgotten? I must have hit my head.”

“Your head is fine. I saw everything.”

He saw the everything?

You’ve got to be kidding me. Face in the mud and ass in the air is not my idea of a great first impression. I can only imagine what he must think of me.

I lower my head in shame, and my hair falls down around my face. When I peek back up through the strands, I see that he’s turned away from me, staring out the window. He looks poised, legs finely crossed, fingers clasped—cool, aloof.

For a moment I wonder if I’m dreaming. There’s no way this could be real. He looks like a movie star or a model in a fashion magazine. What am I doing here with him?

He turns to look at me, and I quickly look away.

Crap. Don’t look again.

But I do, and this time he’s looking at me like he’s in pain.

I look away again.

I should really stop staring at him. This is something Stacy would do. Not me. What’s wrong with me?

A moment later, I can’t help myself and I look up yet again.

Shit. He’s still staring at me.

Okay. At least I’m not the only one staring.

His eyes crinkle in the corners, like he’s laughing at me, his fine mouth twisting into a ghost of a smile.

I look away again.

Crap. He thinks I’m an idiot. What should I do? Should I say something? This is so awkward.

When I peek at him again, I notice he’s clenching his slacks up near his knee. He looks angry. What if he blames me for what happened with the crowd? Maybe I should apologize?

“I’m sorry about what happened,” I say. “I didn’t know—“

He holds up his hand, silencing me.

I turn back and catch my reflection in the window.

Limp, soggy hair.

Mud-flecked face…

Could I look more pathetic?

Hot tears begin to form behind my eyes.

He makes a sudden movement, drawing my attention, and I notice a thin line of blood trailing down along his wrist.

I gasp. “You’re bleeding.”

He stops, turns his hand over. “Shit.”

I lean forward. “Here, let me—“

He pulls away. “I’ve got it.”

I look around for something to stop the bleeding.

He holds up the bottom of his suit coat and sighs through his nose, his mouth twisted with frustration.

I unbuckle my seatbelt.

“What are you doing?”

“Here,” I say, unbuttoning my baby blue cardigan.

“No,” he says, eyes closed, shaking his head. A small smile plays on his lips.

I stop. His smile does something to me I can’t explain, and I have the sudden inexplicable urge to kiss the corner of his mouth. What!? Where did that thought come from?

He smirks at me, like he knows what I’m thinking.

“You really need to calm down,” he says. “Get back in your seat and buckle up.”

I do as he says.

“It must have been from the window,” he says, referring to his bloody wrist. His voice is flat. “I was trying to minimize contact until you showed up.”

Crap. For a moment I almost forgot about the Coronavirus.

Guilt grips me.

What if he has a precondition?

What if he has a family?

“I’m so sorry.”

“You should be.” His expression is serious. “You summoned them to me.”

What?!

“I did not!”

“Did you declare yourself their leader, or were you elected?” he says, his lips suddenly curled with amusement.

I shake my head, confused. “I had absolutely nothing at all to do with them!”

He smiles. “Then why were they all so glad to see you?”

Ah, I get it. He must be joking.

I smile inwardly and decide to play along. “The truth is they were charmed by your carriage.”

His face brightens at my recognition, and he lets out a long sigh. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean what I just said.” He strokes the bottom of his lip with his index finger. “It’s obviously not your fault. It’s the fault of those in charge who allowed the panic to spread.”

I look down at my hands, unsure of what to say.

“Besides,” he says. His voice is suddenly wry with mock-humor. “There are so many ways to die. Coronavirus is just one of them. Something’s bound to get you sooner or later.”

I peek up at him through my lashes. Why does he look sad?

I want to tell him it will be alright, but the thought sounds stupid in my head.

He sighs and shrugs off his jacket to use for his hand.

I sit up.

“Y-y-you can use my sweater,” I say, stuttering for some reason as I gape wide-eyed at the jacket that I’m positive is worth more than my entire wardrobe combined.

“It’s quite alright,” he says, ignoring me.

“No,” I say, gaining his attention. “That jacket’s too thick.”

He stops and examines the jacket, turning it over in his hands.

“Seriously, it’s no big deal,” I say. “It’s the least I could do.”

“It won’t be needed,” he says, tossing the jacket into a heap on the floor.

I shake my head, confused. “Then what will you use?”

His eyes lock on mine as he loosens his patterned silk tie.

Holy hell. He’s getting undressed!

He tosses the tie onto the floor and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt.

My breath hitches as I struggle to avert my gaze.

He shrugs off the shirt, and I barely contain a gasp as his chiseled abs flex under the soft interior dome lighting. The entire time, his eyes never leave mine.

Something tugs at the base of my stomach as I shift in my seat.

He bites down on the dress shirt fabric and tears it into a long thin strip. How does he make it look so easy?

“I can help,” I say, leaning towards him, entranced.

“I’ll manage just fine,” he says through gritted teeth as he finishes two more strips.

He takes three strips and wraps them around his wrist. When he’s finished he holds up his wrist, examining his handiwork. “What do you think?”

I’m so overwhelmed all I can do is nod.

“Good enough,” he says like he’s glad to be done with it.

I spot the tie at his feet and a thought occurs to me.

“You could have just used your tie.”

“Too late,” he says without hesitation.

He reaches down, grabs the tie, then lays it next to him on the seat.

I look away. For some reason I can’t stop smiling. What’s going on with me?

He signals the driver. “I’ll need a new dress shirt before my speech.”

The driver nods. “Ten four.”

He settles back into his seat and begins fingering the shirt-strip bandage.

I clear my throat. “What kind of speech are you giving?”

His brow furrows. “You don’t have to talk like that.”

My brow pinches. “Like what?”

“Like this is an interview.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re up-ending your sentences in an effort to please me.”

I look away, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of pressure right now.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he says, his tone serious.

“Okay.”

His brow arches, assessing me. “I’m Elon, by the way. Elon Carlisle.”

Elon Carlisle.

I roll it around in my mind, savoring the sound of it. The name suits him surprisingly well.

“What’s your name?” he says.

“Nana.”

Crap! What’s wrong with me!? …Nana?!

“Nana?” His brow knits in confusion. “As in, my nana’s just died from Coronavirus?”

“N-no. It’s Ana. Just Ana.”

“Ana?”

I nod. “Ana.”

He leans back, hands behind his head, and repeats my name. “Ana.”

I love the way my name plays on his lips.

His eyes dart back down at me. “You’re sure?” His face lights up with humor, and somehow it’s even more beautiful than before.

I blush and nod into my chest.

“So…Ana. What do you think of all this?”

My eyes once again take in the luxurious surroundings. “The car?”

He makes a face. “No…the virus.”

Duh. What’s wrong with you, Ana? Get it together.

I search for the right word, but all that comes to mind is, “It’s terrible.”

“Indeed,” he says, biting the back of his knuckle.

An awkward moment passes between us, and the tension gets the better of me. “I noticed none of the employees at Wholesome Foods were wearing masks.”

“Yes, I’ve read all about that. Most businesses seem to think it will scare the customers.”

“That’s so stupid,” I say, a little too loud.

He looks up at me and tilts his head.

I shake my head with frustration. “I mean, if we’re going to flatten the curve, we can’t be doing stupid stuff like that. It’s not up to businesses to choose who lives and dies.”

He stops biting his knuckle and stares at me thoughtfully. Why is he looking at me like that?

“I was just on my way to give a speech along the same lines,” he says calmly.

“Oh,” I say. “What for?”

“It’s for a charity banquet. Very tedious.”

“So, what are you? Some kind of politician or something?“

“I’m a CEO. I own fifteen companies on three separate continents, and I employ over five million people.”

Holy crap.

“Wow, very important,” I say, trying to sound unimpressed.

“Indeed.”

Cocky much?

The air in the car suddenly seems too heavy, so I try to lighten the mood. “Well at least the workers of the world will finally get a vacation.”

He eyes me tactfully.

“If you consider the most devastating economic collapse since World War II a vacation, then yes, they will most certainly get their vacation.” So much for lightening the mood. I look down at my lap as he continues. “I believe there is dignity and honor in work, regardless of what one contributes. This pandemic is nothing short of a disaster for everyone involved, including the workers of the world.”

I snort. “Easy for you to say.”

He glares at me.

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re the one getting the lion’s share.”

He scoffs.

“What?” I say. “It’s the truth”

“Somewhat,” he says, leaning forward. “To be more exact, I control the lion’s share. Most of my value is tied up in my companies. If I didn't own at least fifty percent of each company I would cease to be the one in control.”

“So why not give it up?”

“Because without my control they would fail.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

His eyes bore into mine and I look away, a little frightened by his intensity.

“So, you’re doing it for charity?”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

“But that’s what you just said. You said the companies would fail without you. But still, you could sell them off anytime, so why don’t you? Sounds like charity to me.”

He thinks it over. “Because it’s not rational to allow that many people to suffer when I have the power to stop it from happening.”

I can’t help but smile.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He leans forward. “Tell me.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think you’re being rational.”

“Then what am I being?”

“Emotional.”

He shakes his head.

“I never make decisions based on emotion. I prefer to be able to anticipate every outcome.”

“As if that’s even possible.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “Still, I believe caution and prevention are the foundations of rational judgement.”

“Who did you steal that line from? Dale Carnegie?”

His eyes soften with humor. “You know more than you let on.”

I fold my arms. “Yeah, and you care more than you let on.”

He shakes his head and looks down. “I gave up caring a long time ago.”

I stop and stare at him. His response is more personal than I expected.

“What about you?” he says.

“Me?”

“Yes. Tell me about yourself.”

Crap. What the heck am I supposed to say?

“Um…I don’t know. Let me think.”

“Think away.”

“Well, for starters, I lost my job today.” Heat spreads across my face as I recall my outburst in front of the crowd. “But I guess I already told you that earlier.”

I search his face for signs that he’s about to mock me for the embarrassing scene I made, but I find none. Only mild curiosity lingers in his eyes.

“Where did you work?” he says cooly.

“Karen’s Krafts, down on Main Street.”

“I think I’ve seen it.”

“They put me on indefinite leave.” I make air quotes around ‘indefinite leave’.

He nods his head. “They must be struggling.”

“They are.”

“So, what did you do there?”

Why does he want to know all this? There’s no way it’s boring him less than it’s boring me.

“Hmm…” I say, trying to think of something interesting. “I mostly just stood behind the front desk waiting for customers to pay.” I shrug. “Sometimes I’d help stock the shelves.”

Ugh. It sounds so lame now that I’ve said it out loud.

“That’s it?” He says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Um… sort of. I mean, I was a cashier.” I sift through my memory for something else to say. “But sometimes I would clean the toilets, too.”

His lips curl into an amused smile. “That sounds very…interesting.”

Crap. He definitely thinks I’m an idiot. Why did I say that? I blush and lower my head. “It was a job, I guess.”

“Well, from what you just told me I wouldn’t be too upset about losing it.”

My face flushes with anger. “It may not sound like much to you, but it was all I had.”

He gives me a surprised look. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I think you can do better.” He pauses to rub his index finger across his lower lip. “I’m sorry. I know how hard it is out there right now.”

“How do you know?”

“That it’s hard?”

“That I can do better.”

He shrugs. “It was just a guess.”

“Based on what?”

“What I’ve seen so far.”

“I thought this wasn’t an interview.”

“It’s not.” His voice is hard.

I cross my legs and fold my arms over my chest. “Whatever.”

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, but something about this man has gotten under my skin.

“We’ll be nearing your place soon, Ana,” he says. There’s an edge to his voice again. “What’s the building?”

“Broadway Building, Elon,” I say, echoing his tone. “But you can drop me off here if you’re eager to get rid of me.”

His brow turns into a hard V and I’m tempted to poke my tongue out at him. What’s gotten into me?

The landscape around us darkens. “This is a bad part of town,” he says flatly.

I nod against the window. “I always know I’m getting close to home because I begin to feel anxious.”

“I know the owner-slash-landlord,” he says. “Or, I suppose the more proper term would be slum lord.”

I laugh despite myself.

“Totally.”

“Totally?”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

His face lights up a little as his eyes narrow in thought. “For some reason all I can remember of him was his ass crack.”

I burst out laughing so hard I almost pee my pants.

He smiles at me.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” I choke out. “My roommate and I christened him Lord Buttcrack once we learned he was a piece of shit.”

He laughs out loud for the first time, and the melodious sound fills my chest.

The driver looks back at us and smiles.

When our laughter finally dies down, I look up and catch him staring at me with a far off look.

I look myself over and check my face in the glass. “What’s the matter? Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s just…” he says, considering whether or not to continue.

“What?” I say, anxious for his answer.

“You remind me so much of someone I once knew.”

Oh really?

“Who?”

He turns away from me, suddenly serious.

“Never mind. Forget I said it.”

The mood in the car darkens.

“Will you be fine if I drop you off here?” he says. The edge in his voice has returned.

I look around. I usually avoid walking in this part of town if I can. I glance back at Elon but he’s still turned away, as if I’m already gone.

“Here’s fine.”

He commands the driver to stop.

“You’re sure?” the driver says, looking back at us.

Elon nods, his face twisted in what I can only assume is disgust.

I open the door and right as I’m about to step out, a beer bottle crashes against the nearby pavement.

What the?!

I slink back into the car as a middle-aged drunk woman takes a swing at a scruffy-looking old man.

“You motherfucker!” The woman roars. “How you gonna pay the rent! How we gonna eat!”

Elon reaches across me and slams the door shut.

“Drive!”

The SUV lurches forward.

I peer over and see him pinching his brow with his fingers. “That was a close one,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone.

“Too close,” he whispers, not looking up.

A distance seems to have formed between us that I don’t understand.

I sift through my mind for something to say.

“I’m really sorry for everything. The mob, your clothes…exposing you to the virus. It’s all my fault.”

“As I said before, it’s not your fault. People are stupid, dangerous, panicky animals.”

I stare at him, taken back by his harsh judgement.

The vehicle comes to a stop in front of my apartment and I notice a homeless man is trying to defecate on the sidewalk.

“Gross,” I whisper, turning away.

“How long have you lived here?” He says, his face contorted in disgust.

Something comes over me, a medley of shame and anger, and all at once I have the overwhelming urge to leave the vehicle.

I try to open the door, but it’s locked.

He shakes his head at the driver, and grabs my elbow to stop me. His hand feels good against my skin, but my emotions take hold and I shrug it off.

He sighs and leans back in his seat. “You’re sure you want to go?”

What’s he getting at? A minute ago he was asking me to leave.

“I’m sure. Now can you please unlock this door?”

Once again, he shakes his head at the driver.

What’s he doing?

He pulls out a platinum business card holder, flips it open, removes a card, then flips it back shut. He offers the card to me. “In case you need me for anything.”

I shake my head. “You’ve already helped more than enough. Thank you for the ride and the money… I really mean it, thank you.”

He narrows his eyes.

The driver opens my door, taking me by surprise. “Ma’am.”

I look up and thank him, then clamber out of the car with as much grace as I can scrap together.

“Oh! I almost forgot my p—“

I spin around and see my purse dangling from Elon’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” I say, shifting the strap onto my shoulder.

“You’re welcome.”

Something like a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

What’s that all about?

Before I can say anything, the driver gently shuts the door. “Would you like me to escort you to your door?” His face is serious, but genial.

“No. But thank you, um… I seem to have forgotten your name.”

“Calloway, ma’am.”

“Oh yes. Now I remember. Thank you, Calloway.”

“No problem-o.”

I turn on my heel and hop over the pile of excrement the homeless man left on the sidewalk.

“Watch your step!” Calloway says, laughing a little. “I’d kick it out of your way, but it’s still fresh.”

“I’m fine,” I say as I hop up the steps to the front door of my building, totally grossed out.

Good God. How humiliating.

As I’m about to put my key in the slot, I hear Elon’s voice behind me.

“Ana!” I turn around and see his beautiful face framed in the window. “Be safe,” he says.

“You too.” I take a breath. “…Elon.”

The moment lingers as we stare into each other’s eyes, and I can swear something passes between us again. I can’t explain why, but I feel an inexplicable urge to run back to the car. Does he feel it, too?

He turns his head forward as the tint seals shut.

And then, just like that, the car pulls away.

A Final Note from the Author

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far! If you would like to read the rest of Part 1 through to Chapter 14, the story is currently available on Amazon under the title ‘Fifty Shades of Corona’ by N.O. Shame. However, if you are willing to wait, I’ll be posting a new chapter every week!

Much Love,

N.O. Shame

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Prelude, vibe }

Chapter 1: Decisive Discoveries 

Legends are fickle things. While most reside in the imagination of a simpler time? There were always grains of truth embedded into the story of it all. Some stories were like a ball of snow rolling down a hill of the same. In our very nature there was always a spin, an addition, a subtraction, sprinkled with some embellishment, equaling a legend that had an easier flow or a more adequate lesson. There was nothing malicious about the practice- As was the truth behind all oral histories, they tended to bend over time.

Though, even as a rarity, some legends had more truth than others…

A busy desk was toiled upon in the humble two bedroom apartment in Silvermoon as raindrops pounded the glass sill beside it. There was some personality to it between scrawled out papers and hand sketched maps. A seashell here, a dream catcher there, decorated in all one would expect from a bubbly monk who loved the beach. But those personalized decorations were eclipsed by the obsessant project, looking every bit a detective's motive board rather than a delve into Pandarian lore. 

A cork-board rested against the wall at the edge of her desk, each of the four corners used as a section for her stockpile of information. Pictures both useful and purely aesthetic were tossed about, both pinned to the board and lazily resting on the simple oak desk. A quadrant flanked one side labeled Eye Witness’, complete with three portraits pinned into them, two of which seemed to have notes skewed to the back of the sketch. Though under it had a similar portrait sketches, they seemed to be silhouettes of a head complete with a question mark over the face. 

Adjacent her collection of interviews was a similar set up of information. This time focused on the legend itself. The Temple of the Eternal Serpent was written in bold letters above what looked like a transcript bearing a Lorewalkers seal. A text she had scoured over more times than she could count, to the point where she could comfortably recite the tale with little error.

Directly beneath the subject of her investigation, and the tale that sparked it, was geographical maps of the Pandarian provinces with locations both circled in red with some even sporting a cross through them. While the mainland of Pandaria was focused on in her markings, there were cutouts of the Isle of Thunder as well as a map of Azeroth before the Cataclysm.

Each section had a simple line of thread running from their corners into the center of the board where Possible Locations??? was listed…. Though the lack of anything concrete paved the way for a blanker looking space then the rest of her work, with naught but a picture of a full moon with more question marks scrawled on it out of frustration.

One section sat solitary in its own corner with no tether to speak of. Simply labeled Trials of the Serpent along with three sections representing the three tests written out beneath them. Strength, Spirit, and Soul. Perhaps the busiest of sections of board, this one in particular had scrawled out notes pinned with personalized reminders and revisions to the stories she’s heard. While it had the most information, it looked to be the least figured of the bunch- save for maybe the possible locations she lacked.

Burying her face in her hands as frustration at her own stagnation mounted. Desperately pleading to herself for a good break in unraveling the mystery of the Eternal Serpent. Not often did the chipper monk wallow in self-doubt, but a rare concession was made as she sat at her desk. Listening to the sound of rain against her window.

Right up until an impressed “Damn.” pierced the white noise as a voice came from over her shoulder. “You tryin’ to catch a serial killer kiddo? Cause I know a few.” 

The mixture of silent footsteps and her focus elsewhere paved the way to Soriya’s miniature heart attack. Jolting forward in her chair as the familiar voice of her father found her ears. He did this near constantly- and yet every single time it never failed to scare her.

“I’m going to punch you one of these days.” The young monk replied in an aggravated tone. Or as aggravated as Soriya got, at any rate. 

“Good. See? That’s good parenting right there. I’m teaching you how to get on that fight response instead of the flight response.” Kirollis added with the usual joking swagger exuded. 

Turning in her chair to better face the rogue, Soriya sent her backhand toward Kirollis’ shoulder in a love tap. “Be that as it may…. I won’t be playing pocket healer that day.” She chided before poking her tongue out in his direction in teasing fashion.

Kirollis half-smirked, half-smiled, as he knew full well just how empty those words were. He let her have the moment in the end, instead shifting his attention back to the cork-board with an interested bob of his head. “So what’s with uh… all this?”

With a forearm the young monk cleared the notebook chalked full of tabbed pages. Shifting her gaze toward the corner of her desk as her lips contorted to one side. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep her little venture to herself, rather a sense of pride. She wanted this to be hers. 

“It’s just this legend from Pandaria. You wouldn’t like it. It’s full of dragons and wishes and poor villagers and voodoo and stuff.” However she never was all that convincing of a liar.

Kirollis quirked an auburn brow as he gaze Soriya a questioning look that denied anything other then genuine intrigue. Eventually settling on the edge of her double bed both letting her know he wasn’t going anywhere and making himself comfortable.

Once more Soriya let out an exasperated sigh at the realization that he wasn’t moving anywhere soon. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“C’mon, tell me about it.” Pointing a finger toward the board in question Kirollis continued, “I know what that is. You’re lookin’ for an old legend?”

“No.” The monk countered. “Well… yes. But I’m really close to finding it!” She exclaimed, only to be met by an unconvinced audience. 

“Right. So... a dragon? In Pandaria. Like a Cloud Serpent?”

Soriya gave a single nod of her head in confirmation. “More like -the- cloud serpent. Or well, the lineage of one.” Begrudgingly she relented to tell the tale. “So the story goes that the son of Yu’lon, long ago, neglected his duties and went to go live in a mountain. Basically he gave bad wishes to the villagers who lived close by, essentially like… bribing them to worship him. So eventually the villagers got a buncha bad wishes and they made a temple tomb for him.” The Mistweaver summed up as simply as she could.

The rogues eyes flicked toward the board once more, seeming none too phased by the rigid retelling of a tale that clearly had a lot more too it judging by the evidence right before him. It certainly wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever heard, and that point was further drove home as he simply commented, “Neat. So, where do you think it is?”

A silence overtook the pair as Soriya blinked a few times before staring at her father. But a fleeting sense of admiration took her as Kirollis just seemed to believe her chasing after some legend as if it were true. 

“Neat? That’s it? You hear about a dragon granting wishes and you’re response is ‘neat’?” Soriya questioned in a patronizing tone, despite the warm feelings a mere moment ago.

Kirollis took the jab well, simply shrugging, “Sori… our ranking government literally comes from another planet. A giant demon stabbed our planet baby last year. I’ve somehow managed to make it to almost two-hundred. Stranger things have happened.”

Soriya’s brow furrowed as she conceded. “Yeah… fair points.”

 “So?” Pointing toward the center of her board he added, “Is your best lead really the moon?”

“Uhm… well…” She reached a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. “I’ve talked to a couple of peop-... well the families of a couple of people. Stories their grandparents used to tell them.”

“Oh!” As an afterthought Soriya swiftly added, “There was this one group that was said to have actually found it pretty recently. But I can’t find -any- of them, the last person I can prove saw them said it was on the Isle of Thunder, but I couldn’t find anything even close out there.”

Kirollis took a moment to take in the information offered, letting out a “Hm.” As he got to his feet and took a closer look at the maps drawn out. “Ya ever think about the outskirts of Uldum?” 

“Uldum?” Soriya brushed off the random location. “Why would I go there? I mean, looking for this that is.”

Once more the rogue cast an incredulous look at his daughter. “Cause thousands of years ago Azeroth was all sorta connected? Pandaria probably connected somewhere around Uldum.” Squinting some he hesitantly asked, “Sori, did you not know that?”

“Why would I know that?!” The monk protested.

“...because it’s basic world history…”

A quick history lesson was given as the father and daughter duo exchanged ideas well into the night. While Kirollis educated her on the finer points of early Azeroth, Soriya filled him in on the legend she pursued. They had always got along and found common interests, but when it came to entering the others world there had always been a lack in joint projects. And while she was reluctant at first? Soriya eventually found herself thankful for the lucky break she was looking for.

[davidmann95]

this is one of the nuttiest weeks in comics in awhile, what're you pulling and what are your thoughts?

Having missed Daredevil, Peter Cannon: Thunderbolt, and The Wild Storm for now, a situation hopefully to be rectified this weekend, and knowing there are profound spoilers ahead:

Superman: Leviathan Rising #1: SUPERMAN AND JIMMY OLSEN, OUR FAVORITE GOOD TIME PARTY BOYS. This was the embodiment of ‘inject it into my veins’ comics, even with that disconnected, pointless Supergirl section, which still at least assured me that I’m not missing out on anything in her book right now. Otherwise? Superman sucks at acting, because acting is lying! Lois giving Batman the business! 4-QQ&BE4J*O(@NX!

Heroes in Crisis #9: This…ended about as well as it possibly could, I suppose, and I do actually mean that as a compliment, but that only matters so much. I probably actually did like more individual issues of this than I disliked, but the basic concept behind the mystery once it unfolds is a needlessly destructive one for the character in question, King’s dialogue quirks ran away with him, the pacing was shot, Mann showed his ass in some rough ways, and so much of it reads like King completing a mandate. There were moments of grace - the final page of confessionals has the funniest panel of King’s career - that mean I’ll absolutely reread this at some point, but on the whole, it can at last be set in stone that this was Tom King’s first and hopefully last major failure.

Detective Comics Annual #2: Haven’t been getting Tomasi’s Detective, but the preview made it look like it was going to be his best effort in some time. It was, but not enough for me to be interested in the arc this is setting up for down the line.

Fantastic Four #10: I really thought I’d drop this after the first tepid arc, but while I’m ditching Iron Man, Slott’s been acquitting himself admirably here recently, and Paco Medina’s art is always a treat.

Thor #13: There’s little in this issue that isn’t rote and obvious, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good as hell.

War of the Realms: War Scrolls #2: There’s a panel in the first part where Daredevil’s legs are hella weird, but the Strange story was nice and that Loki/Wiccan/Hulkling story that’s been taking the internet by storm was indeed pretty nice.

The Magnificent Ms. Marvel #3: This doesn’t have the spark that Ahmed’s work right now on Miles possesses - I’m not even positive I’ll finish this first arc - but it’s a decently charming page-turner and I could see it ending up grabbing me down the line.

The Immortal Hulk #18: It’s genuinely astonishing that this is still capable of freaking me the fuck out, but good goddamn.

Doomsday Clock #10: As I said on Twitter, this was the dopiest, most lowest-common-denominator fanboy-pandering shit in the world, and let me tell you: I’m that lowest common denominator, babeyyyy. Is it good now? Far from it. But it’s becoming almost exactly the comic I feel like it probably should have been all along, and not even just because it’s basically 30 pages of big daddy Geoff petting my head and whispering “shh, shh, it’s okay, your favorite character is still the most important and always will be no matter how bad we fuck up, we promise Morrison Action still kinda matters, shhhhhh”. It’s to its weird credit that the issue that was definitely 100% conceived as ‘the continuity dump’ ends up the only one that says much of substance about anything, even if it’s just that Superman’s important; the book should have been meta all along, and now it’s straight-up calling the main DCU the Metaverse in reference to how it’s always changing in reference to our own real world. And this definitely has the most moments of odd magic previous issues sporadically managed of classic, goofy and/or corny superhero moments taking on an almost totemic degree of weight and power in this bizarre context. Just have Manhattan in some way acknowledge how Superman fundamentally affected his own world too, and I’ll be able to rest easy that this lovely abomination lived up to his full potential in the context of being a dopey Geoff Johns comic.

(My unearned enthusiasm aside though: I don’t think it’s really come up in Doomsday Clock criticism that I’ve seen, but it should probably be talked about that it shares big daddy Watchmen’s I *think* well-meaning but regardless unpleasant relationship with queerness. And Watchmen’s issues, while present, are illuminated by time: my impression was that by 80s cape comics standards it was majorly progressive. Doomsday Clock…clearly doesn’t mean any harm, but actually comes up notably shorter than even its predecessor? While also making its queerness much more important to the plot than Watchmen ever did yet not really doing anything with that but using it as a delivery mechanism for Plot, the latter in this issue coming fundamentally bundled with what makes the former uncomfortable? However you slice it, this is a comic where gay and trans people exist, but only a long time ago as something that was shamed, however much the story frames that as a bad thing. And on a related note: is Carver Coleman supposed to be a George Reeves analogue of sorts? Co-star of the Superman-centric issue, bad relationship with his mother, died under mysterious circumstances in the 50s? Perhaps it’ll be clearer when that thread wraps up; maybe I’m the dope, but I still haven’t picked up on the thematic significance of his story or Nathaniel Dusk’s yet.)

Batman: Last Knight on Earth #1: So on top of everything else, it is buck wild that Snyder and Capullo’s take on the final Batman story isn’t a disconnected-from-continuity, archetypal, ‘timeless’ tale like All-Star Superman or The Dark Knight Returns, but explicitly a bad ending AU for Snyder’s own current Justice League run. What matters more than where it’s situated though is what it is: in the words of Mark Stack, this book is a chainsaw. It kicks off with what seems the prelude to the sort of traditional ending this isn’t, swerves into the dumb memey version that everyone on the internet has seen (including clearly the creators of this comic) which Batman defeats, and then it stands revealed in truth as the MOST Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo version of a last Batman adventure imaginable. It’s clones and purple super lightning and toytowns and mad alien light babies and Joker’s head in a jar telling dirty rhymes (easily Snyder’s best take on him to date) and a wayfaring quest to save a world that’s chosen to die, and this is the prelude. I couldn’t be more into it, especially as the ample production time and physical space gives this a much more assured pace than Snyder’s had anywhere else in recent memory, and I could honestly imagine this ending up as my favorite out of the pair’s Batman joints by the time it’s through, the ultimate distillation of their take on him and their joint aesthetic.

Also, unlikely as it is, I think there is a better than zero chance that Omega is Jarro. A mind-controlling disciple of Batman in a story spinning out of current Justice League? Would that really, really be too weird to fit, nevermind that making Starro the final villain of the DCU he in a very real way created?

[secretsofthemasquerade]

What the fuck is happening with V5, neonazis, and shits.

So, first, terminology. Everything I am going to be talking about here concerns the company White Wolf Publishing, which is the Swedish company created by Paradox Interactive for when they bought back the IP from CCP. 

This DOES NOT include Onyx Path (with whom I have grievances, but they are mostly a question of taste and some of their business practices I am somewhat disapprove of, but this has nothing to do with them), and their classical authors, whom have nothing to do in the thing. So don’t go about telling Richard Thomas he’s a Nazi asshole okay? They’re clean in this matter and their statement is genuine and honest, and their statement matches their actions and publications. This also does not involve By Night Studios. 

Basically, White Wolf Publishing (new version, the one in Sweden, owned by Paradox) has released a preview for V5 (corebook, which is due in three weeks), and they presented neo-nazis in a way that is controversial to say the least, in the clanspread Brujah for V5, which is in their V5 preview.

Some see it as "wwp trying to make neo nazis play their game", some are saying "lol sjw are being sensitive and ruining everything", some are saying "it's ok to explore dark themes but this is poorly worded and looks like they're glorifying it", and some are all censorship and stuff. 

The spectrum of answers are very wide, with assholes on both sides, and death threats being sent to everyone by everyone. Including OPP people who are completely out of the loop on this one (altho some may argue that since they’re licensing the IP from WWP that makes them a level of complicit/quiet acceptance; that argument can be heard, but I am pragmatic and I understand they don’t want their company and their livelihood to sink into oblivion because Ethics are superior to Food)

Here’s the catch. People aren’t pissed just about the Brujah issue, that places neo-nazis at the same level as any other character concept and definition of the Brujah, without an ounce of self awareness, and using terminologies that clearly appeal to gamer gaters (the use of terms such as “fourth wave feminists” and others...). They’re pissed and worried because this isn’t the first WWP offense, they have multiple times allowed themselves to poke towards such people, more or less willingly. 

There's been plenty of other signs by the WWP crew that they may be integrating alt-right and neo nazi elements in their games, not because they are saying they're a thing, but also somewhat inserting (willingly or not) some propaganda elements, not as a way to criticize them, but normalizing them or even misrepresenting them as "rebels with a cause" (aka Brujah, which makes little sense nowadays, current day neo nazis and alt rights are in positions of power and are very much accepted if not encouraged by our political systems, much to my screaming French ass). 

They somewhat normalize and even glorify them. Despite being a game about monsters (lol u know what vamps are?? have said many people on those threads), it isn’t a game about BEING a monster. It is a game about Dealing with It and their Humanity. 

WWP says it's to "acknowledge the state of the world today" but other elements such as dog whistle elements for neonazis, as well as the use of hate groups types of phrasings (euphemisms, like, clearly derogating terms like "fourth wave feminism" mocking tone like) are pushing non-straight non-white, non-male players out of their base. And oddly, almost everyone defending their edge-approach are.. yes, regular white dudes.

Add in their hiring of Zak S for their video game from February 2017 and the overall lack of research, + their apology / non apology / defense about all of these issues altogether up to now about the whole ordeal when people bring out the issues, and you've got a massive shitstorm of suspicion about whether they are actually openly welcoming neo-nazis and alt-righters into the games, especially when public comments made by WWP staff implies "they are very fine people” and “both extremes are horrible”, putting into equal footing antifascists and neonazis. That in and out of itself is suspicious, but arguable to some degree. Plenty of comments have been made both by the horrid fanbase, but also by WWP staff on the matter, as such they cannot really deny their hands being dirty (looking at you, MR-H and Ericsson, receipts are provided all over reddit and the FB threads from WWP but also from the VtM groups, including this one).

Just because they state they condemn racism, sexism and xenophobia, doesn’t mean that their writings and actions match those statements. They still sign “Blood and Souls,” their letters and posts, which is ODDLY similar to “Blood and Soil”, a known Neo-Nazi chant. The integration of 1 4 8 8 as a dice roll result may be completely meaningless and a sad occurrence, but there are SO MANY other occurrences that giving them the benefit of the doubt is hard. Especially when you add the fact that the lead dev has written books about nazis (so has done research, and when you research, 1488 comes up easily). 

I’m always willing to blame ignorance and stupidity over Malice, and I am doing it for V5 write-ups, but their apologies and defense instead of listening to our concerns takes away their credibility. Their reaction should have been to listen and fix it.

In Game, there is also a BIG BIG PROBLEM that the authors didn’t even research. The Alt Right and neonazis are NOT in a marginal position of protesters anymore. They are in power. They are very much allowed, encouraged, protected by the system, at least in most Western Societies. They are no Brujah hunting ground, they are great Ventrue targets! 

There’s a difference between allowing the themes be used and explored very darkly and grimly and glorifying them as a good thing (the little red book or Leni Riefenstahl’s movies), and doing the same but with careful research, expert consulting and making sure your intent is clear as a content creator (like the Handmaiden’s tale or 1984). You can’t objectively say that Wolfenstein is a game that approves of nazis despite being all about nazis, nor Far Cry 5 about wtf is going on in Far Cry 5, or that Just Cause approves of American Intervention in island nations or Latin American countries, or that Tropico approves of banana island dictatorships. Cartel Ciudad Juarez or many modern warfare games, on the other hand, do not manage this and are clearly not aware of what their game is saying (not unlike a RPG like Fatal... :p).

Then the article archived and linked above was made and shared, and that’s where all shit hit the fan. I do not believe the author is fully right about everything in the contents, especially when it comes to Zak S (who is an asshole by all means, but he is neither a gamer gater nor an alt righter), but there are solid elements that put together some of the various “uh” moments. The article has since been removed due to the harassment, death threats and worse. 

Oddly, Reddit is doing okay (x, x) but Twitter has also given us frowny things about upcoming W5...

Do I think they are openly and willingly trying to pull one past us? No. Do I think the WoD has brought in lots of neonazis as players and has been a problem since the 1990s? Yes, for Vampire and Werewolf for sure. (Werewolf in particular is plagued with them despite the Revised attempts at fixing certain things...). Do I believe the 20th anniversary edition were made to glorify those days? No. Not at all. Do I think Ericsson and co are neonazis? No. They’re not. Do I think WWP is trying to be edgy to cater to anti-sjw and unapologetic show offs? Yes. Do I think WWP wants to openly cater to neonazis? No, but they’re not doing anything to make a stance against them buying and using their games. If their idea of Mature Themes is punching down and glorifying monsters, they are wrong and we should let them know. If a mature theme is exploring the dark sides of the world in a thoughtful manner, having Horror as a key component of VTM, then yes, that is what we want, but it has to be presented properly and fine-tuned. Right now, it’s “oh, wouldn’t it be cool/grim if...?”. They need to consult experts. They need to hire sociologists. Psychologists. Game Theorists. They need to SEE what Chaosium has done with Call of Cthulhu. They need to 

I’m just also going to say that the two FB WWP threads are insane (here and here), full of fanboys and fangirls defending WWP and telling them they shouldn’t apologize, they even made a petition saying they did nothing wrong. I do not want to give up, and I do not want to let my voice be silenced by these assholes for a game I love and care about even if I am such a critic of it.

Let me be very clear. The problem is -not- the inclusion of asshole character concepts in the write up, it is the WoD after all... The problem is that they are presenting them under a good, acceptable, apologetic light even. The problem isn’t exactly the content of the game, the problem is how little research and how little awareness they’ve had about their publication, and the responses that they have given when we have raised questions and concerns about these issues. The problem is Accidental Indoctrination. The problem is Propaganda Games. What are your mechanics saying? What are your actions saying? What is your game saying?

https://youtu.be/4jKsj345Jjw

https://youtu.be/UP4_bMhZ4gA

(Yes they’re video games but it’s he same thing)

And in opposition, extra credits did also an episode about the Shoah book for Wraith. https://youtu.be/EDEgXUqHL9Q

So, do we want great quality mature content, serious gaming material, or shock for shock value? Do we want This War of Mine, Papers Please, Dead of Winter, CupidVN, Spec Ops the Line, Bury Me My Love? Or do we want Hatred, DARK, WoD Preludes, Ciudad Juarez or even Dante’s inferno?

Games Matter.

Education Matters

We matter.

Tyvm

If you have any questions, they’re going to do an AMA on Twitch on July 13, here’s the info.

Let’s try and be numerous to voice our concerns. EDIT: Blood and Souls actually references Elric, it was my bad and I apologize for it, but you’ll understand that sometimes, when it sounds and moves like a horse, it’s hard to see it’s a zebra. Especially considering all past elements from the different eyebrow raising worth of edge for edge’s sake.

I still do not believe they’re deliberately calling neo-nazis but considering their AMA’s comments of people who just don’t want to be respectful and do basic research when treating mature content in an adult way, and be like “hell no, DARK STUFF, don’t steal my dark stuff!”, there’s honestly all the proof we need that that’s the kind of crowd they’ve accepted was using their games as entertainment. Jason’s answers were clear, and did not bite the whole “but what about antifaaaa”. I’m cautiously optimistic, and I’ve chosen, like many others, to keep publishing in the Vault to show them we can do better, and that it’s in the community’s best interest they listen.

They also confirmed Mark Rein Hagen was just a “consultant” and isn’t part of the team in anyway ;)

[tinycartridge]

Choice Provisions on Runner3′s steps forward ⊟ 

Runner3 is the latest and most finely tuned of a series of extremely fine-tuned (and fine-tuning oriented) games, a whimsical needle-threading simulator in which you jump, slide, and kick CommanderVideo through an auto-scrolling gauntlet of bespoke terrors and panic-inducing staircases. How do you refine a gameplay system like the pared-down Runner?

“Gameplay wise, personally,  I wanted to simplify things a little bit,” Choice Provisions co-founder Alex Neuse told me. “In some respects, there were too many moves in Runner1 and Runner2, and I wanted to get a little bit more pure of an experience, but then also add some nuance to that.” That nuance comes in the form of new double-jump and ground pound moves that, along with the existing glide, allow players to exert more direct control over CommanderVideo’s jump. “That was one thing for me that felt nice, as somebody who likes to think about 'how do my hands feel when i'm playing a game?' Runner3, when I'm doing really well my hands feel great,” Neuse said.

“I think we also really wanted to open up the world,” said co-co-founder Mike Roush, “and make it this sort of deeper, richer experience where -- really, when you look back at Runner2, it's so sidescrolling platformer-y, and we wanted this to feel like more of a ‘Triple-I’ experience as they say, and pump up the production values and have this game where you feel like you're really submerged in a world.” Neuse explained that the team felt Runner2’s world “basically exists to serve the player, or serve CommanderVideo, and we wanted Runner3 to feel like the world was just there and you were in it, instead of it just being there for you.”

Every level now has a standard two-minute runtime -- “and that's because of the BPM, and the phrases of the song, and how you mode up, and to make it the most musically satisfying that we can,” Neuse explains, with a standardized 100 gold bars to pick up, both changed from the more freewheeling predecessors. “It was always a pet peeve of mine as the primary designer, that we didn't standardize how many collectibles there were in each level,” Neuse said. That standardized gold count allows the player to easily gauge how far through a level they’ve made it, and to know after the fact whether they’ve collected everything.

Roush noted that the longer levels also make the mid-level checkpoints more valuable.

“I didn't think the checkpoint was worth much in Runner2, so we wanted to put some emphasis on like, hey, you know, use the checkpoint now. That's why it's in there.” (Ed. note: use the checkpoints.) A two-minute-long Runner3 gauntlet can feel like much longer (and can actually take much longer, of course, depending on how many retries it takes). The two Choice Providers recounted feedback from Runner1’s “Odyssey” level, noting that people thought it was seven, eight, or even 13 minutes long. It’s just over two.

Marking your progress through those extra-long levels is a new graphic that shows how many times you’ve failed (“bonked” in Runner parlance) each time you restart. Just a big number before every retry. A big, growing number just to confront you. “[My wife] got halfway through Runner3,” Roush said, “and -- she's kind of competitive -- and I think 53 was her highest bonk. She'd get mad at me: ‘There's no way I'm going to 60!’” I have personal experience of seeing the number 60 on my television screen, and it leads to a feeling.

That feeling, of course, is a prelude to the eventual, hypothetical joy of completing a Runner3 stage. “Just because you bonk,” Roush noted, “doesn't mean that you've failed. There has to be difficulty for you to get that elation when you actually make it through the level. If it wasn't difficult, then you wouldn't feel good when you finally did it. So it's hard for us to view difficulty as a bad thing.” He felt the elation firsthand, he said, when replaying Runner during the development of Runner2.

“I was playing on weekends, Saturday mornings, because I was so busy during the week, and I could not beat the game! I was totally blown away. But I kept going. Part of it is, I was just not good at Runner1 -- I had gotten used to Runner2. But I went back, and I finally beat that game, and I don't know if I've ever been so happy beating a game, or proud of myself. It felt so good.”

Neuse said his parents, who otherwise don’t play games, completed Bit.Trip Beat, Runner, and Runner2. “I kind of wonder if people who don't expect a difficulty to be a certain way don't have as much trouble with it. I don't know.”

Before our conversation ended, I had to ask about Charles Martinet. The narrator of Runner2 (also known for other fairly well-regarded video game voiceover roles) is back in Runner3, both as the narrator and as the playable character The Narrator. That choice, it turns out, was motivated by a specific, practical request on Martinet’s part. “One of his bits of feedback from Runner2 was, he was telling us that at conventions, he didn't have anything to sign for Runner2,” Roush said, unlike the 8x10 prints he uses for characters like Mario and Skyrim’s Paarthurnax. “We had to make something visual,” Neuse said, “because he was only a voice.” 

As a bonus, integrating Martinet further into the world “legitimized his involvement in the series, I feel.” Martinet, who Roush called “literally the nicest human being I have ever met in my life” was game to record spoonerized versions of level names, something that triggers randomly when choosing a level, and ad-libbed some of the advertising gags that open the game.

Runner3, complete with included digi-Charles Martinet, is out on Switch and PC now, with PS4 and Xbox One releases to follow.

► BUY Runner3 (physical)

[favonius-captain]

13 6 14 21

6) Do you outline your fics? If so, how?

rarely do i outline my fics ,, i find that they're often too short for me to outline.

however, when it comes to longer works ( ie. my original novels ) i'm a pretty big outliner ! my usual writing process brainstorm consists of separating my storyline threads into "arcs" and then detailing each arc. then i use the 6 stage story structure to find the basic structure of the main arc & mark all the important points of other arcs in chronological order before filling in missing spots. i tend not to outline everything and i write out of order, so the majority of my writing process is just editing !

however if i do ever end up writing a multi chap fic ... haha. haha

13) Are you a fast or slow writer?

slow writer. much less on tumblr but when again when it comes to my novels, i tend to get the zero/first draft down pretty fast! however, the majority of my writing is just editing since writing unchronologically has a negative impact on character development and the smoothness of the plot — because of this, i have 4 stages to my writing process (drafting, mass edit to move scenes/fix structure/correct arcs if not removing them overall/fill in all the parts i didnt feel like writing before, micro edit to refine sentence structure/rhythm/refine symbolism & finally a grammar check!) which is why my writing usually takes quite awhile </3

but i do not nearly put in as much effort for my genshin writing (i am very much a perfectionist in novel writing .... more so a gremlin in genshin writing), LMAO so yeah

14) What is something you wrote in a fic that you are hoping readers picked up on but you don't know if they did? And/or, what is something that you were excited that readers did pick up on?

like i said ,,, the quality of my genshin writing is subpar compared to my other writing and therefore not nearly as deep. i do however, include lazy symbolism. i do also rework titles often times from my favorite poets

my first series for example ( pretend it isn't gold + the waves break our fall )'s titles were obviously inspired by greek mythology (icarus)

my other series ( alea iacta est + astra inclanat sed non obligat ) titles translated to "the die have been cast" and "the stars incline us but do not bind us"

"names in a city" is inspired by richard siken's poem line ( roughly along the lines of "here is a map with your name for a capital" ). xiao's section is also inspired by said poet — line "history repeats itself. but none of the names in history are your’s. and history has always been kind to the forgotten" is inspired by his line "i know history. there are many names in history. but none of them are our's"

for the alea iacta est + astra inclanat sed non obligat i don't think anyone realized but it was a circle ending — the first fic ended with a letter and an engagement ring for childe and diluc respectively, and it ended with that in part two too !

the rivals singers/fake dating au with kaeya for my 250 event also has a circle ish part to it — it was very much accidental but the relationship starts with a dinner that was obtained not really morally, in a fake relationship and in the end when the real relationship started, kaeya actually bought the cake the right way so there's that too

this sounds really pretentious but hey ... i am pretentious

3) What fic of yours do you think is underrated? (for 21's writer's choice !)

preludes in a book that never ends ( kaeya )

bridges ( xiao )

names in a city ( kaeya, childe, xiao )

find them on my masterlist

ask game

[whysperingwoods]

Below the cut is the last trip I had to astral. It was during the night between March 2nd and 3rd, but I haven’t had the time to transcribe it until now. It’s long and might be disturbing for some people, so if you’re sensitive to gory stuff tread carefully. 

I transcribed it as it was written, which was immediately after the experience so it’s a bit jumbled. I debated organizing and editing the text a bit because some things are out of order or could use clarification, but ultimately decided to leave the text in its integrity and refrain from annotations save one addition that I felt was necessary (in italics, sixth paragraph).  

I’m posting this mostly for my own purposes, but also for the few people who take interest in this sort of thing. I’m not sure what to make of it, so I’d be open to hearing other interpretations if there are any. 

Prelude: Before the journey begins I set my intention for the trip, which was to be shown where my path should go next, or a truth I need to be aware of to progress. This is a pretty general type of intention that I use occasionally, and often I will remember only the beginning and the end of the voyage. The entity that guides me and follows me knows when to leave me the memories and when not to, so I trust his judgement. This was one of the rare times that I remembered the entirety of the journey, and in extremely vivid detail. In physical time the voyage lasted about forty minutes. The following is what I wrote immediately upon returning.

At the beginning I asked for protection and counsel from my entity that is always with me. He was encouraging and kissed me for good wishes. I also got the go-ahead from the dual god in the vast space. I turned around again to face my entity, but in his place was a skeletal robed figure (which I thought was him for a second, but turned out not to be). The skeleton revealed itself to be an old shaman woman that I have seen once before in a dream. I asked if she was a shaman (I had never confirmed it before, only assumed) and she said yes. I asked her if she was my guide, and she said no. (Note: I write “said” but she did not speak a single word in our entire meeting) I asked who it was, and she said either that I would find him or that he would present himself to me, I can’t remember which. I asked her if “this” was happening now (I don’t know what I meant by that, but my subconscious seemed to have a clue), and she laughed and said I wasn’t ready. I said I was, and she looked at me for a moment and then nodded. 

The next part is pretty gruesome.

She cut off the top of my head so my brain was exposed. She spat into my open skull, and then stirred my brains with her hand. Once it was all scrambled she reached further down into my skull and tugged on my spine a few times, not sure what she was doing there, then she grabbed my wind pipe (still elbow deep into my skull) and squeezed and pulled so hard I could feel myself choking in both worlds. She held it until my physical body started to pass out, and when she let go I could feel my non-physical self being transported, or maybe entirely separated from my physical body because the scenery didn’t change. She let go of my wind pipe and popped my eyeballs out by pushing them from the back inside of my skull, tossed them onto a table (and I could still see through them, so I now watched all this from the table) and she popped in a new set of eyes in place of the old ones.

I forgot to mention one of the other questions I had asked before all this was if I was going to get a sickness (again, I don’t know what I meant by this but my subconscious seemed to be operating on a piece of knowledge I don’t have) and she said I’d had it already and then I replied that I hadn’t and there is usually a dream that goes with it. She reminded me of a dream I’d had many years ago, and I said I thought the sickness doesn’t end until you accept your role. She pointed out a specific part of the dream where that had been a mysterious person I bonded myself to. At the time I had that dream (about ten years ago, maybe eleven) I remember being very disturbed by it and how vivid it was, I wrote about it several times in my journals trying to make sense of it and I still remember every detail. I remember the bonding act she was referring to, and I remember in the dream knowing that’s what I was doing and the deliberate action was excruciatingly painful. She scoffed and said “you have that one to blame for that”, referring to why I hadn’t gone through “this” yet and pointing to the entity (although he wasn’t there with us, it was just an image). I understood it was a form of protection, and I think he’s involved with the shield, I don’t know. He definitely didn’t make it himself, but maybe had something to do with it.

Okay so new eyes [I realize now I hadn’t actually written out the part where my eyes were replaced, but she basically pushed two black marble looking eyes into the sockets, still from within the skull]. She places the top of my skull back on and sews it up (very crudely) with a curved needle made out of bone. I don’t know what the thread was made from. She then sliced me open down the front so my guts spilled to the floor. She pulled out my small intestine and looped it in a circle all the way around the fire. She did some sort of ritual, I don’t know what. I was pretty out of it at that point, my consciousness wavering. Next thing I remember she was standing in front of me, holding my liver. She took a bite out of it and ate it, and then made me do the same. She then took out my spleen, held it up in the firelight and looked it over. I thought she was going to throw it into the fire, but instead she put it back and said “you can keep your melancholy”. 

More time passed, I believe more ritual but I can’t remember. Next thing is she is stuffing my guts back into me and sewing me back up, and as she’s finishing she asks “are you sure you want to keep going? the next part is worse” and I said yes. I felt two meat hooks pierce through the back of my shoulders and go straight through me on both sides, coming out beneath my collarbones. They hoisted me up into the air so many feet high that I couldn’t see the ground, but I couldn’t see the ceiling either (we were in some kind of cave-like place). It was hotter than a sauna and excruciatingly painful, but I knew I had to wait so I did. I hung there for twelve years before a huge god showed up. Similar in size to the dual god in the vast space. He looked at me and said I was very hard-headed, and I said yes. He plucked me off the hooks and kissed me, which pretty much was just bumping me against his lips because he was that big.

Then he dropped me.

I fell for miles and miles and miles, it took three days before I finally landed into a fire pit. I immediately started to burn, but I couldn’t even think of getting out of it. My skin started to boil and eventually blackened into a crisp, and then the old woman was there again, reaching into the fire and pulling out my burned up body. She ripped open the burned skin, and I emerged from it unscathed and unblemished despite everything I’d just been through. I was crying and she comforted me for a moment, then said I had to go. I protested and said I had questions, but before I could ask any she had thrown me and I was falling back into my physical body at which point I woke up.

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 30 April 2018

Quick Bits:

Avengers #1 represents the cyclical nature of comics. While the story continues on from Marvel Legacy and highlights themes of legacy heroes and returning hosts of Celestials, on a functional level it also represents a circling back to a kind of “status quo” of the Avengers big three. Similar to what happened during Marvel’s Heroic Age branding and Avengers Prime some eight or so years ago. Jason Aaron’s meta-commentary in the book, about the changes and return of the characters is certainly interesting.

That being said, it’s also a fun book. The art from Ed McGuinness, Mark Morales, and David Curiel is suitably bombastic. I particularly like the new designs for the Final Host, weird, but still within a similar enough Kirby aesthetic. It’s also nice to see the Million BC Avengers again.

| Published by Marvel

Black Science #35 returns from its most recent break with a bit of a mindfuck. Kind of par for the course. Rick Remender basically gives us “Saving the Eververse through Couples Therapy” and it encapsulates one of the larger themes in the series of the problems with family, the mistakes made, and the lengths people go to in order to try to make things right. As usual, Matteo Scalera and Moreno Dinisio makes it look gorgeous. I think Scalera can probably make anything look visually interesting at this point.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Breathless #2 steps up the action, with Scout and Grace-Eisley trying to fight their way out of the labs, only to discover that the appearance of the drinkers hints to a deeper conspiracy. The story Pat Shand and Renzo Rodriguez is telling is fairly good. I like the use of flashbacks to flesh out Scout a wee bit more, and the art from Rodriguez and colourist Mara Jayne Carpenter, particularly some of the layouts and character designs, is quite impressive.

| Published by Black Mask Studios

Captain America #701 starts Mark Waid’s end run on the series before it gets relaunched with Ta-Nehisi Coates guiding the ship. Again, Waid is playing with time and legacy here, with the story set in the 24th century, but with an eye to travelling through Cap’s history. It’s fairly captivating, with some great art by Leonardo Romero and Matthew Wilson on the main story and flashbacks from Adam Hughes and JG Jones & Paul Mounts.

| Published by Marvel

Coda #1 is an incredible debut from Si Spurrier and Matías Bergara. The fantasy world that Spurrier and Bergara have created here feels rich, deep, and sorrowful. Living in a world where it seems like evil won, stripped magic and hope from existence, and most of those who remain live by a kind of brutal and bleak lawlessness. Or cling to what our protagonist, “Sir Hum”, would consider useless grasps at the world gone by. It reminds me a bit of The Last Unicorn mixed with Mad Max, and it’s wonderful. Spurrier’s dark humour shines through and Bergara’s art (with colour assists from Michael Doig) is stunning.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Come Into Me #2 hits a few technological, biological, ethical, and moral walls as they try to figure out how to excise a dead person’s mind from Sebastian’s body. Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson have something existentially frightening here, tapping into the kind of intellectual body horror that David Cronenberg is known for, beautifully illustrated by Piotr Kowalski and Niko Guardia.

| Published by Black Mask Studios

Dark Ark #6 begins a new arc, giving us flashbacks of Shae learning about Noah’s ark and the methods he uses to begin building his own. I like that Cullen Bunn is going back to fill us in on how the second ark came about.

| Published by AfterShock

Death or Glory #1 is a beautiful comic. Bengal’s art, from character designs, page layouts, vehicles, composition, colour choice, and more is just amazing. Visually, this is a feast. The story too is captivating. The Last Days of American Crime taught us that Rick Remender can write a mean crime story and the start of this one is really not to be missed. Glory Owens is an interesting character, her reasons for turning to crime understandable, and the world that Remender and Bengal are creating seems to be deep and fascinatingly populated.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Doctor Star and the Kingdom of Lost Tomorrows #3 continues this excellent look at the possible real world ramifications of a Ted Knight Starman analogue missing out on the life of his wife and child. Jeff Lemire excels at family dynamics and this series has just been one gut punch after another.

| Published by Dark Horse

GI Joe: A Real American Hero #251 begins a new arc of largely single issue stories focusing on an individual Joe or member of Cobra. This first part spotlights Stalker and has some great art from Alex Sanchez and Ronda Pattison.

| Published by IDW

The Gravediggers Union #6 revels in its glorious madness with an epic confrontation between the Black Temple and the Gravediggers Union for the fate of existence. Toby Cypress and Niko Guardia do a great job portraying the action and insanity of the battle.

| Published by Image

Harbinger Wars 2 Prelude #1 is pretty epic, even just as set up. This issue serves as a sequel to Eric Heisserer, Raúl Allén, and Patricia Martín’s excellent Secret Weapons mini-series, as well as the massacre of the Generation Zero kids in Harbinger Renegade last year, and the titular prelude to Harbinger Wars 2. It’s good. The American government has basically gone insane and have taken to trying to kill every psiot on Earth, so Livewire does something drastic. It’s huge.

| Published by Valiant

Hunt for Wolverine: Weapon Lost #1 is the first of the four mini-series with groups looking for Logan. It’s also the one with the most tenuous of reasons for existing, given that Kitty went to Daredevil because Multiple Man is dead (at least until the summer) and they don’t have any other detectives. Ignoring, of course, the whole load of psychics they could use, hunters and trackers like the Weapon X group, mutant trackers like Prestige and Caliban, Agent X, hell...even Deadpool. This is more just the group of people that Charles Soule wanted to write, even if the remit’s ridiculous. Regardless of the in-story or meta reason for coming together, this isn’t bad. Soule’s set up here is mostly a gathering of the group, giving us a look into the previous cop life of both Frank McGee and Misty Knight, before leading us to a welcome return of the final member of the team. It also looks damn good with art by Matteo Buffagni and Jim Charalampidis. 

| Published by Marvel

Infinity Countdown #3 advances the overall story a bit, giving us an underlying mystery as to characters coming to an understanding that reality has changed since Infinity. How, why, and what remain unknown, but it’s an interesting tidbit. Also, the conclusion of the battle over the power stone is absolutely ridiculous, it needs to be seen.

| Published by Marvel

Koshchei the Deathless #5 details the twist in the tale where Koshchei became a slave to Baba Yaga. It’s interesting how Mike Mignola dovetails Koshchei’s story with events and characters through Hellboy and BPRD history. And how horrible Baba Yaga was in her thirst for revenge.

| Published by Dark Horse

Red Sonja/Tarzan #1 is likely to make a lot of people angry. Not because it’s bad, not because it’s controversial, or anything like that. It’s because Gail Simone has created a villain in Eson Duul, an arrogant bully and poacher, that is so despicable, so cruel, so heartless, that you’ll likely want to punch him yourself. It’s interesting to see both Red Sonja and Tarzan at such a disadvantage.

| Published by Dynamite

Rogue & Gambit #5 is only partially a conclusion to the series. Sure, Kelly Thompson brings to a close the bizarre mutant stealing couples retreat arc and gives a sense of closure and reconciliation in Rogue and Gambit’s relationship, but she leaves open the door for more. Especially with questions about the series’ villain, Lavish, left up in the air. I certainly hope to see this plot thread picked up on. Also, the art from Pere Pérez and Frank D’Armata is gorgeous.

| Published by Marvel

Scales & Scoundrels #9 is a largely silent issue with Lu coming across a man who’s lost his voice, a lonely siren, and a hunt for treasure at the bottom of the ocean. This issue’s storytelling rests largely upon Galaad’s ability to portray everything visually and it pays off in spades. The art is beautiful and story flows incredibly, with the silence adding a necessary depth to the fable that Galaad and Sebastian Girner are telling here. Great work. If you haven’t picked up this series before, this is a wonderful single issue story to jump in with.

| Published by Image

Sherlock Holmes: The Vanishing Man #1 is off to a good start with a new mystery from Leah Moore and John Reppion. I really like Julius Ohta’s style. It’s somewhat similar to Cully Hamner and Adam Pollina and it adds to a pretty nice looking book.

| Published by Dynamite

Spawn #285 is another issue made so much more by the art from Jason Shawn Alexander and Lee Loughridge. The series has stepped back from the oblique horror with this arc with Todd McFarlane resuming writing duties, opting for the more familiar government and military conspiracies that have been part of the series since the beginning, but it’s entertaining.

| Published by Image

Spider-Man #240 is the second-to-last stop on the Bendis Farewell Tour, but this one feels like the big goodbye. Partially because of the long heartfelt letter from Bendis at the end of the issue, reminiscing about his years of work on Ultimate Spider-Man and all of the wonderful people he collaborated with over the span. And because this really is the end of nearly two decades’ worth of work, first with Ultimate Peter and then with Miles Morales. This conclusion is more personal, evidenced largely due to the story structure itself, being an issue of reflection and recuperation.

| Published by Marvel

Star Trek: The Next Generation - Through the Mirror #1 continues on from the recent Mirror Broken series, bringing the main timeline crew into the mix. This issue is split into two stories, a lead one with art by Marcus To and Brittany Peer in the main timeline and a back-up in the mirror universe with art by J.K. Woodward. The art throughout is great.

| Published by IDW

Transformers vs. Visionaries #5 ends the series in a pretty spectacular fashion as plots and machinations come to fruition. Wonderful art from Fico Ossio and David Garcia Cruz. It’s just a shame that we won’t really be getting more of the Visionaries with the line ending soon, because Magdalene Visaggio gave us an interesting starting point here for a new wrinkle on Cybertron.

| Published by IDW

Venomized #5 brings Cullen Bunn’s Poison trilogy to an end in a rather interesting fashion that gets to spotlight the Monsters Unleashed monsters and give a bit of closure and justice for the original five X-Men who were pretty badly beaten up in the centre act. Iban Coello also really gets to cut loose on the art in this issue as well, elevating his work even higher than before with some of the sequences.

What this series unfortunately also highlights, like the new Avengers, is the current mishmash of timing with Marvel’s continuity. This has to be after the current X-Men Blue arc because the X-Men are back on Earth, but before the recent Mighty Thor arc because of Lady Thor, and...undoubtedly other things you could point out that would probably seem like nitpicking. It kind of feels like some things in the “Fresh Start” are necessitating things to be rushed in places. So, in terms of continuity, this is a bit of a mess. 

Still, taken on its own terms, without trying to figure out how it works in the broader shared universe, this has been fun.

| Published by Marvel

Weapon X #17 begins the process of the characters wondering why this team still exists, as the status quo is shaken by Sabretooth taking lead of the team while Logan recovers from the last two issues’ birthday brawl. It feels like the beginning of the end, but Greg Pak and Fred Van Lente are still making the story fun.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Astonishing X-Men #11, Avengers: Back to Basics #5, Black Science #35, East of West #37, Giant Days #38, Go Go Power Rangers #9, Jazz Maynard #10, Maxwell’s Demons #3, October Faction: Supernatural Dreams #3, Red Sonja #15, Rick Veitch’s The One #3, Sex Criminals #24, Star Wars #47, Xerxes #2, You Are Deadpool #1

Recommended Collections: Archie - Volume 5, Reborn, Extremity - Volume 2, The Gravediggers Union - Volume 1, Scarlett’s Strike Force - Volume 1, She-Hulk - Volume 3: Jen Walters Must Die, Star Trek: Boldly Go - Volume 3, Stray Bullets: Sunshine & Roses - Volume 1, Young Terrorists

d. emerson eddy knows who put the dog in the dog house.

[maximovs]

Where are The Avengers?

Quicky thoughts based on a poster of Avengers: Inifnity War that Marvel have just released inspired me to elaborate this little theory in wich i speculate where the characters of the movie will be, how they will be divided and, in general, what will be their mission.

The poster in question is this one.

As we can see the characters are divided in groups of colors: Green (Nebula, Gamora, Corvus Glaive and Ebony Maw), Blue (War Machine, Winter Soldier, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch, Captain America, Black Widow, Falcon and Vision), Red (Drax, Star-Lord, Iron Man, Mantis, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, Black Dwarf and Proxima Midnight) and Orange (Rocker, Thor and Teen Groot).

Based on the material we have from the Trailer #1, the Super Bowl’s Tv Spot and the Trailer #2, i will say that these groups are actually the ones we will see in the movie, and how they will be divided. For what we have seen in the trailers, we can also add Wong to the Red Team, and Okoye, M’Baku and Shuri to the Blue Team.

So... Where are they?

I will say that the Green and Orange teams will probably remain in the space (or at least the most part of the movie). 

Red Team will start on Earth (specifically, in New York) and at some point they will move to another place (probably to another planet in space).

Blue Team will stay on Earth, specifically in Wakanda, where they will recive the invasion of the army of Thanos.

Orange Team Pt. 1

We know from the end of Thor: Ragnarok that the spaceship where Thor, Bruce Banner, Loki, Valkyrie, Heimdall, Korg and the Asgardians travel will be attacked by Thanos and the Black Order. Most if not all of the Asgardians will die, but we don’t know what will happen with Valkyrie, Heimdall or Korg (we haven’t seen any of them in the trailers). What we can deduce is about Thor and Loki. Connecting different scenes from the trailers this is what i think will happen: after Thanos arrives and kills the Asgardians (maybe for revenge to Loki, maybe because he is just evil) he will press Loki by hurting Thor (the scene of him crushing his skull) to deliver him the Tesseract (Space Stone), and that’s what Loki will do in order to save his brother. After that, Thanos and the Black Order will blow up the spaceship and go (probably to the Earth in search of the rest of the Infinity Stones). And then is when it happens the famous scene of the SDCC’s Teaser of Thor floating unconscious in the space to be found by the Guardians.

And what happen with Loki?

There’s two strong theories about him. First one: Thanos kills him in revenge for the failure on trying to conquer Earth in The Avengers (2012), and also for losing the Mind Stone that was given to him (the Scepter). Second one: Loki joins him  in order to survive (maybe as a condition for the forgiveness). It is true that we haven’t seen any scene of Loki beyond those scenes in the spaceship, but Marvel can simply be hiding them, maybe to keep the uncertainty for the spaceship scene in the movie. Or... he just doesn’t have any more scenes at all. I found good arguments for both theories, and with the Russo Brothers saying they want Thanos to be THE villain, showing his power and confirming that there will be deaths, Thanos killing Loki at the beginning of the movie will be... shoking, at least. But i wouldn’t give it for sure, we’ll see.

Orange Team Pt. 2

Once Thor wake up and found who the Guardians are, and that they have the same purpose of stopping Thanos, they will form an alliance. From this photo we know Thor, Rocket and Teen Groot go together somewhere (the machine we see in the minute 0:22 of the first trailer and 1:13 of the second). What is the mission? What is the machine for and what can it do? We don’t know, but surely it will be crucial for the victory of the Infinity War.

Green Team

Maybe i should’ve start with this one, but i didn’t want to start speaking of the Guardians before i mention their role in the storyline of Thor, and also because i found this group a little... strange; but before i start guessing why these are grouped, i will give my theory of how i think the movie will start. For me, the first thing we’ll see will be Thanos attacking Xandar  (or just after) where he will stole the Power Stone, after that is when he attack Thor’s spaceship. Another version of that is that from the eyes of the Guardians we only see the destruction of Xandar, and then is when their pursuit to stop Thanos starts (and then they find Thor). But continuing with the character’s Team, i’m sure we’ll see Nebula from the begining in the hunt of Thanos, as an one-man army (in this case, woman) traveling through the space, but why is Gamora in this Team too? maybe they will reunite at some point (we know Gamora will go with the rest of the Guardians to the Earth, and maybe to the “another planet”) or maybe they have the same color for the story they share (from the second trailer we know we will see flashbacks of when they were little girls), but i will go with the first one, i don’t think Nebula will stand alone the whole film and where they will reunite? i bet it will be in the “another planet” and not the Earth. Finally, what about Corvus Glaive and Ebony Maw? Sicerely, i have no idea, but trying to find the connection in all these and taking for granted that there is a relation between characters-colors... maybe they hunting/trying to stop Nebula from killing Thanos? It’s all i have.

Red Team

This one is more interesting. From the trailers we can say that there’ll be another alien invasion in New York (0:45 to 1:03 of the first trailer) and that Tony Stark/Iron Man, Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Bruce Banner, Doctor Strange and Wong will come together to defend it, this will happen in the first act of the movie, and how i already say, they will move to another place for the second act. Why do i say that is in “another planet in the space” well, honestly i cannot be sure, and it makes me doubt this scene of Tony without his armor (breathing), but seeing all that strange structures it makes me think in somewhere out there, certainly it could be just New York with the alien invasion, but the thing is that i don’t see any building in that scene, and also i’m pretty sure there’s some statement from the directors or writer saying that the movie will take place aprox. 50/50 between Earth and space, and that desolation too. Also we know that at some point the rest of the Guardians (Peter Quill, Gamora, Drax and Mantis) will join with the Earth’s Heroes, and i think it will be in the second act, in that “another place” and with Nebula too (see Green Team). Thinking better, maybe it’s just New York. And for the trailers we know that our heroes will not have a good time, in the trailers we see Tony and Peter Parker being beaten by Thanos and ending up bad (this photo again), Doctor Strange being tortured by Ebony Maw, etc. I think they will lose this round.

Blue Team

And finally, the bigest Team (with more members). Captain America, T’Challa, Black Widow, Bruce Banner, Winter Soldier, Scarlet Witch, Vision, Falcon, War Machine and the Wakandans there (Okoye, M’Baku and Shuri, at least) will all reunited in Wakanda for the final battle. Why there? There’s a theory saying that is because is there where is hiding the last Infinity Stone, the Soul Stone, it makes sense to me, if not why Wakanda in particular? And before i continue, i want to add some data from the Avengers: Infinity War Prelude where it explains what happened with the heroes after the Civil War: Captain America, Black Widow and Falcon where to Syria undercover in a secret mission to intercept Chitauri’s Weapons from terrorist, and Wanda and Vision are hiding together somewhere. So this is what i think will happen: Wanda may have a vision of what is going to happen (the Infinity War), so she and Vision come out and go in search of Steve and the rest of the Team, when they find them and warning them of the upcoming of Thanos, the group go to Wakanda (maybe asking for help, maybe because they know is where Thanos will go) and there is where begins the end.

Doctor Banner, where are you?

He is everywhere. Point.

Have you notice that i avoid in the most part of the text to speak of him? Is because he deserve is own paragraph. He is our guiding thread. Yeah, because at the start he is with Thor in the spaceship, and then he appears in the Sanctom Sanctorum in New York with Tony, Stephen, etc. and theeen he is in Wakanda with the Blue Team. Dude! So this is his storyline: He is in the spaceship with Thor traveling to Earth, when Thanos arrives and attacks the spaceship and kills the Asgardians he probably end up unconsciuos (that’s why he doesn’t help Thor) and when the spaceship explodes he rushes to Earth, and basically falls from the sky (0:08 first trailer) what a lucky coincidence! just in the middle of the Sanctom Sanctorum, and maybe that’s why Tony Stark appears there too, he goes for him. Then is when the invasion begins, Tony and Stephen goes to help, and Bruce is send by Tony to alert Steve and the others, he finds them and together go to Wakanda. Tony gives him the Hulkbuster to fight with it and in that way he doesn’t  need to transforms in Hulk (from Thor: Ragnarok we know it is becoming in a more serious issue than what already was), but at the end he does because the battle is too hard. The end.

Where is Hawkeye? Where is Ant-Man?

I don’t think they will appear to much in this movie. The reason? Their families. In the same comic Avengers: Infinity War Prelude their explain us that Clint Barton/Hawkeye retires himself of his heroic life to spend time with his family. Scott Lang/Ant-Man doesn’t retire from being a superhero, but he also takes a time to go with his daughter, and also the upcoming movie Ant-Man & The Wasp (2018) will take time before Avengers: Infinity War, right after Captain America: Civil War so we cannot see what happends with Ant-Man in Infinity War if we don’t know what happened with him before, and also Marvel wants that Hope Van Dyne debuts as The Wasp in her own movie, and not in another one (same happens with Captain Marvel, we will not see her until her own movie, Captain Marvel, 2019 and then in Avengers 4, 2019). But besides that, the circustances will make them, once again, wear the suit and try to save the world.

Final thoughts...

People, i may have so wrong about everything i’ve just said, Marvel have show us so little about the movie, but also i think i don’t say anything so crazy, honestly i go to the easy, i don’t predict any death (maybe Loki) but if i have to name some: from that photo of Tony/Peter Parker maybe Peter too, and also Steve idk, more (a lot more) could die but i don’t think it will last to much because, big thought here, i think they will make a reboot of the time, changing everything, also i think that Captain Marvel will make the diference to win the war. At the end (Avengers 4) i think Tony will die (he started everything) and Steve and Thor will retire (maybe we will not see them again), not sure if Nebula will die too, or even Thanos, or some more. So hard, i love all these characters. But i’m pretty sure that in Infinity War the bad ones will win, but what comes after? We’ll see babes, we’ll see.

[zippdementia]

Part 37 Alignment May Vary: Marauder Attack

This is the continuing chronicles of my Dungeon and Dragon adventures. In Season One, I ran a homebrew conversion of Tomb of Horrors. In Season 2, we began an ongoing campaign, partially homebrew, but mostly a conversion of the 3.5 module Tomb of Haggemoth. In Season 3, we continue with the same characters (mostly) as they begin the classic 3.5 campaign Red Hand of Doom.

As Red Hand of Doom is an extremely popular module, I’ll be focusing a little more here on the conversion I created, what decisions I made and why, and how it all panned out. The benefit and difference between this thread and others is that you’ll see my decisions get playtested and get direct feedback on whether it worked or not as intended. Hopefully this information will be useful to others seeking to run the module in fifth edition. This is a full Fifth Edition playtest of Red Hand of Doom.

Outside of the standard Wizards of the Coast offerings, there are three sources I used extensively to create this conversion. The first was this wonderful thread over at Giant in the Playground. While the mechanical suggestions are not very relevant to 5th edition, there are a lot of good ideas here on everything from how to make the story more interesting to how to set up fights to be more interesting.

I found this gem on horde-like creatures to be extremely relevant and helpful in fleshing the horde out. It basically takes your classic basic monsters (Kobolds, Goblins, Hobgoblins, etc) and fleshes out some more options for playing them, including giving them some harder hitting abilities. I especially like how Hobgoblins get bonuses to attack dice based on grouping up. This really simulates what is would be like to be set on by a gang of these guys.

Finally, I use the Tome of Beasts in every campaign I run, just because it is so frickin’ fun, basically the second Monster Manual we haven’t yet gotten. And honestly, a second Monster Manual would be hard pressed to be this good. Awesome monsters, well designed, good range... I used it for certain random encounters and to help flesh out the world.

Prelude to Adventure

For three weeks after Karina leaves the party, Tyrion and Traki linger in Ottoman’s Dock, not by choice of Tyrion. Traki continues to have dreams. In these dreams, he sees a great red ship sailing towards Ottoman’s Dock, and riding on that ship is a Black dragon. The dreams are strongest on the nights which Traki clutches a piece of the jade statue which Karina once carried. Traki says they must wait for this ship.

“Look, you have dreams,” Tyrion tells him. “I have dreams, too, mate. Dreams of getting the eff out of here, moving on to that sweet Elsir Vale, continuing our story.”

Tyrion doesn’t tell him, but his fingers have begun to twitch during the day, drifting towards the hilt of his axe at odd times: whenever he hears a baby cry, or smells the sex drifting from a conspicuous alley as he walks by. The other night a brawl broke out in the tavern and he nearly drew the axe and killed a man before he stopped himself. He wants a reason to use the axe, and there is none left here.

Traki regards him with his ruined eyes and Tyrion has the uneasy feeling that he sees him, despite his blindness.

“Soon,” Traki says. “The dragon will take us East.”

And so they wait. Slowly their coin gets spent, the gift given them by Zennatos. They provision themselves and buy what magic items they can afford: some scrolls and potions and a wand of magic missile. Traki is given a spice bag, containing any spice he desires as long as he wills it, by a merchant grateful for his help in cleaning his shop. Traki takes it gratefully, the shopkeeper never knowing that his help came less from kindness and more for the purpose of rigorous training. No better place to learn how to use his other senses then the broken maze of a shop. By turning other tasks into training regimens, Traki soon develops a five foot blind sense. His bare feet pick up slight vibrations in the earth. The wind speaks to him. He becomes closer than ever he was to the world around him and he marvels at the barrier that sight was.

At the end of the third week, a large ship docks with the words The Crimson Tide painted across its hull. Riding at its prow is a black half dragon, small by the standards of that race but a towering giant to Tyrion. An old man tells him and Traki that this ship is a famed pirate killer and the she-dragon one of its crew. “Stories have been sung about that one,” he says, tapping his nose knowingly. Tyrion takes the opportunity to sing a song of his own, something like this:

“The Crimson Tide sails into port, Its sails and spirits high, The crew that lives to tell the tale, Of where hidden treasures lie; But the tales they weave Are of the soul, Of souls that turn to rot, These the dreadful pirate hunters, The Crimson pirates-not.”

The Half-Dragon (Karina’s new character) disembarks from the ship upon seeing the singing Halfling and cocks her head at him. “Pirate-nots?” she says, and then laughs. “You have a way with words. Not a clever way, but a memorable one.”

“The music writes itself, my lady,” Tyrion says, guessing from the creature’s voice more than appearance its gender. “I am but the singer.”

From here the conversation eventually takes the three of them to the tavern where they learn several things. One, the half-dragon is a storm druid name Nysyries Sholtak (Ni-Si-Re-Us). Two, she is taking her last journey with the pirate killers of the Crimson Tide. At her request, they are carrying her east to a port city, where she will disembark and make her way north on foot until reaching the Elsir Vale. The wind have brought her tales of the pain the land is in and it is her duty to go discover the source of that pain.

Finally, they learn that once she starts drinking, she won’t stop. The druid becomes roaring drunk, outlasting both of them by far, her speech becoming more and more draconic as the night wears on until eventually she is speaking of dark things they do not comprehend in a language they do not understand. But she does agree to take them with her when she goes, after hearing their story and Traki’s reports of his prophetic dreams. The agreement is a godsend for him and Tyrion. Going by ship the way Nyseries intends will bypass a perhaps impossible journey on foot through the wall that is the Dragonfang mountains, and then the Endless Plains beyond that set the western boundary of the Elsir Vale.

After docking at the southern tip of the continent, the party makes their way north, having several small adventures along the way which we don’t actually play out, just describe. At one point Tyrion tries to use his broken Doss Lute to charm some horses and it goes awry, meaning the party earns the hatred of all the horses in the area, who steal their food, trample their camps, and chase them down the road. They also encounter a group of wandering gypsies, who leave Tyrion with a mysterious and disturbing Tarokka card (we roll for which one): the Dark Lord. It shows a likeness of Tyrion, only the card changes as the companions continue to journey, showing his countenance grow darker and more menacing. A clawed hand appears resting on his shoulder and the pupils of his eyes disappear into inky blackness until his head looks like a glaring skull.

He does not share this with the others.

They also find the grave of someone named the “Mad Monk,” but it has long ago been dug up. Traki does find an odd stone at the gravesite and determines it is a “Ki Stone.” It can store up to 3 Ki if Ki is spent into it, and then this Ki can later be extracted to be used by a monk to power his abilities. It’s an item of my own devising, part of my gambit to provide the players with magic items that are more fun to use by giving more options to the players, rather than just bonuses to attack and damage and AC (especially as I’ve seen what that can do to bounded accuracy in fifth edition).

It’s tough to move away from the pathfinder mentality of “every weapon they find at this level should be at least a +1 magic sword with some crazy side ability” but it’s an important part of a successful conversion and I’ll talk about it later in a future post.

First Contact

The players reach a crossroads and decide to head east towards Drellin’s Ferry, seeing as how the west path borders the Thornwaste and doesn’t lead to anywhere particularly exciting. They are walking along a road bordered by trees when suddenly the hiss of arrows fill the sky! Only Trakki, conditioned now to use his ears (and the only one to make a perception check), catches the sound and is ready to react. He spins and snatches an arrow from the sky then flings it back into the treeline towards where his senses tell him. Another arrow takes him in the leg, but the one he throws finds its target, too, and they hear a roar of pain and a crash as a Hobgoblin dies in the brush.

And then our first combat of the campaign kicks off as the heroes are attacked by a band of Hobgoblins, led by blademaster Uth-Larr and Cleric Zharr!

Encounter: The Marauder Attack

Battle difficulty meant to be: easy or medium

Players are supposed to walk away feeling: “We got attacked by hobgoblins and it was a bigger deal than just some random encounter”

Rebuild: For this encounter, I opted to keep the first set of Hobgoblins and the Hellhounds standard. The Hobgoblins are really here to harry the players and provide support for the bigger threats, and to use up the player’s spell slots on taking em’ out. The hellhounds are a bit more of a threat, with some incredible damage from their firebreath, a decent to-hit, and enough hit points to last two or three rounds doling out that damage. They are also meant to punish players for clumping together.

For Uth-Larr and Zharr I added class levels. Uth-Larr I figure isn’t going to survive much past his first turn of attacking, because once Traki goes to work on him, I’m sure he’ll be stunned or otherwise impacted. He has to hit as hard as possible on his first round, then, and then hopefully roll well on his saves to survive to a second. I decide to give him levels in fighter, focusing on the superiority dice to give him options. The key skills he ends up with are action surge, which he’ll use right away to try and get as many hits as possible, and parry, which can reduce the damage he takes. His entire point is to hit hard and fast and hope he takes down a player or can survive to attack next round again.

Zharr is more interesting. In 3.5 he is supposed to turn himself invisible and dart around the battlefield healing and casting magic, but invisibility doesn’t work like that until you get fifth level spells (Greater Invisibility) in DnD 5e. Taking him to that level seems a little extreme for this fight, so instead I start poking around the Cleric domains and I find the Trickery Domain, which has a fascinating Channel Divinity option that lets him create a phantom image of himself which can cast magic. A similar effect, but a little more vulnerable to discovery.

Links to Uth-Larr and Zharr Statistics

Tactics: Part of the fun of this fight is that the players get to see that their enemy is large in numbers. I mean, this is the first fight in the campaign and it includes a total of twelve hobgoblins, two hell hounds, and two specialists (one fighter, one spellcaster). And that doesn’t count the fact that more hellhounds can be summoned. Fought all at once, this fight would be in the deadly range for most characters of level 8, simply because of the action economy. So in order to bring it down to a doable level, the fight is broken up into three parts. First, the basic hobgoblins try an ambush with ranged weapons. This is easy to deal with and when this ultimately goes badly for them, one blows a war horn and alerts the specialists and hellhounds to move in. This is the most critical part of the fight and the most deadly as the toughest opponents are attacking as one group. They have to be dealt with quickly, because two or three rounds later the reinforcements show up, and they are tougher. Hopefully by then, the players have whittled down the specialists and hellhounds and can focus on the new threat, or have bought themselves an opening to run away.

The specialists are the smartest opponents. Uth-Larr will always try to flank an opponent, using his parry maneuver to reduce damage taken from attacks of opportunity if he needs to maneuver into position. Zharr will distract and delay, first trying to draw fire away from Uth-Larr and the hounds, who are more dangerous threats in a direct fight. If that fails, he focuses on healing and supporting the fighters to keep them alive longer. If he can still have Uth-Larr alive when the reinforcements arrive, he will have created a fairly dangerous situation for the players.

How does it go: the fight ends up pretty perfect. The players make a couple tactical mistakes, mostly by splitting up and letting individual party members get surrounded. Traki takes the lead by chasing hobgoblins through the woods, but this leaves him surrounded and he goes down to Uth-Larr. Tyrion manages to get to him in time to revive him and from here the battle goes much more in their favor as Traki and Tyrion fight together against Uth-Larr. What this shows them is that these hobgoblins are no joke—it takes the two of them to take Uth-Larr down without casuality. Any one of them, this tells them, is not equal to taking on the horde alone.

Nisirius comes very close to death as well, taking multiple arrows from basic hobgoblins and getting into a very dangerous one-on-one fight with a hellhound, whose flame attack deals 27 damage to her at one point. But she also gets to display a very different kind of fighting ability then Karina, who was more of a sidelines fighter. Nisirius changes into a giant eagle at one point to gain maneuverability over the enemy, and at another point she casts ice storm to completely decimate the six Hobgoblin reinforcements as they approach from the North to join the fight. This kills most of them and sends the survivors fleeing.

Zharr ends up being their biggest nemesis in this fight and more interesting snd long lived than I had planned! I add a little flavor to him, giving him a hunchback and a creaky voice which he uses to portend doom for the party every other round. His illusion tactic works really well and it happens that the players don’t land a strike on him for a long time. When they do, I have them roll perception versus the spellcaster to see if they notice the illusion and Zharr succeeds these rolls for long enough to create a lot of confusion while the party tries to figure out why they can’t hit him, guessing everything from a beefed up boss character to him using a cloak of protection. Zharr summons a third hell hound during this time who harries the group for a while, and when that hellhound dies, it has been such a bizarre combat that I decide to try and get him out of there and use him again later as a re-occurring villain. He rolls a natural 20 on his sneak away roll and manages to live to fight another day, leaving them with the chilling warning that the horde knows who they are now and doom will find them if they stay.

Special Loot: Nothing too crazy. I do like giving out buffed up weapons but don’t want to break bounded accuracy, so I’ve converted most simple +1 swords in the Red Hand of Doom into “fine” weapons, which I say add +1 to damage. The players get these off of Uthlar, but miss Zharr’s summoning scroll since he got to use it before the battle ended. I planned on handling this as a very simple level 2 Cleric scroll, able to summon one Hellhound, no concentration needed, duration is one hour before the hellhound disappears.

Overall, I recommend this conversion. The battle goes perfectly. It is a tense fight: had the heroes not rallied and started working together, they could have all been killed here. But the battle being done in waves gave them enough time to recover and change tactics on the go, being just forgiving enough to let them survive. The end result is that the threat is definitely established, but no players had to a lose a character in our first session. 

The heroes have met the enemy and shown that they are strong enough to face them. However, several Hobgoblins, including the Trickster Zharr, have escaped and are making their way north to warn their masters of the approach of a new threat to the horde.

Next week we focus on the Town of Drellin’s Ferry and the adventurers will take their first steps into an ancient wood, where Twyin once marshaled his forces against an army of giants.

[philomaela]

So we had time for a retconned Thor's hammer and scene of L*gertha's parents, but Hirst never bothered to show Ragnar's parents? Whose favoritism of Ragnar created tension/conflict between him and Rollo that defined the first four (well, three and a half) seasons of the show? Hm.

I didn’t mind the hammer, it wasn’t a retcon... it had just very obviously never been shown before now lmao. I think it was a strong element but it was dragged down a bit by the ridiculous way this season was structured. I mean, the idea was that Lagertha had this necklace and was constantly touching it because she thought she might die in battle. But I think that was kind of undercut by the weird pacing of all this... I mean, 5x07 was meant to be the prelude to Ragnarok. The entire episode were our characters talking about how it was the end of their world, it was full of apocryphal statements. And then... we have 5x08 and it turns out that it wasn’t any of that? And then we have 5x09 and then finally in 5x10 the apocalyptic theme comes back. I’m not saying that 5x08-09 weren’t full of very personal moments, but the theme was more of familial relationships... it was badly split up, that’s the only way I can describe it. Thematically 5x07 fits a lot better with 5x10, even though the plots... there’s obviously a gap missing there lol.

That was a long paragraph for me to basically say that maybe Hirst should have introduced the necklace in 5x07 and that would have been a good connecting thread for the Ragnarok/fatalistic theme.

I thought the flashback to Lagertha as a child was nice but... ngl, it did make me wish we had seen something similar with the other big characters. We barely got any reference to Ragnar and Rollo’s parents. And to this day, I still have no idea where Aslaug came from! We know her parents died when she was very young... but she’s still a princess? She seems to have no real land of her own? But also she’s got a lot of wealth and status? Like, how the fuck did she exist? Who took care of her, she’s implied not to have any family living and yet she’s still got this high status and wealth but also seemingly no ties to anyone in Gotaland (seeing how it’s never brought up again)....? Like it’s one thing when Hirst wants her to be this magical, otherworldly princess but he clearly wasn’t going for that in later seasons and he just... obviously never thought about any of this even though it could have been so interesting.