#why do i have to live in a society where its not viable to sit down and draw silly farm people every night for several hours

[peachjooce]

my rf3 art from 2018-2019 (oops! all shara edition)

[neokad]

Phantasy Star II - The 1989 JRPG that could

(This post is dedicated to @kuukigajan, my best friend, whom motivated me to post here again, so... I hope you'll enjoy this!)

This game. This freaking game.

I'm gonna say it right now: this post will contain massive spoilers about pretty much everything in Phantasy Star 2's story, so if you do plan on experiencing this game fresh, I strongly advise you to not read this post at all beyond the first paragraph, but... here's the gist of it: Phantasy Star II is one of the most important and groundbreaking JRPGs of its time, and I just did not believe this game was from 1989, at ALL. For that and a few other reasons, it has become one of my new favourite games of all time <3 

In fact, I do want to start with the one big flaw of this adventure so that I can just gush about everything else that's brilliant about PSII. I have to be honest: the dungeon design in this game is horrible. Now to be fair, it does make the many places you visit more memorable, but well... there's a rumor floating around that an actual trainee made the layouts for the dungeons - and since this game was a bit rushed for the Genesis's launch, the devs just didn't have time to replace the... stuff he submitted. And let me tell you, this rumor makes sense: PSII's dungeons are too big, too maze-like, too confusing and also FILLED with strong enemies. And in a game where you don't get a way to save anywhere until the midway point, it can make your adventure very frustrating and potentially grindy because of that... Now I wouldn't say that PSII's nearly as bad in this area as say, the original version of Dragon Warrior or ironically the first Phantasy Star, but the dungeons can totally make you feel like the game's harder than it actually is, at least without a map.

Thankfully, you should never feel bad for using any maps or guides with this game! The execs at SEGA at the time made the very smart decision to include a walkthrough with each copy of the game, including maps, tips, secrets and more! Said guide does encourage youto not look at it as much as possible but... it's totally fair to just use this, without any shame!

And that is a great thing, because... with you armed with this piece of paper, Phantasy Star II can finally show you its actual brilliance.

The game's plot starts off a thousand years after the events of the first Phantasy Star game. Since Alis and her party defeated Dark Force, the inhabitants of the Algol solar system - and its three planets of Palma, Motavia and Dezolis - have enjoyed relative peace. However, at a (to my knowledge) unknown point in time, a computer entity known as Mother Brain has started imposing itself onto mostly Motavia. This, over time, has actually given many benefits to the region: the once deserted wasteland was given rain, water and crops, so that it could finally host viable, comfortable civilizations. The citizens that lived here could finally ditch their (arguably) nomadic, harsh lives in favor of comfort, pleasant weather and more. And most importantly, Mother Brain allowed its citizens, save for a few, to ditch their current jobs and live a life of laziness, without any obligations or pressure to do anything other than well, existence. This is reflected many times during the game through NPC dialogue, too!

It is on such a setting that our protagonist, Rolf, wakes up from a strange nightmare. In it, we see Alis batting Dark Force and struggling in doing so, but as soon as he realizes this, Rolf wakes up in cold sweat. He then proceeds to calm his nerves, realizing that no such dramatic events could possible happen to him - after all, he and many others have been under the universal protection and care of Mother Brain, whom at this point, has provided all of their needs for centuries. He then gets out of bed and goes to the central tower, where we works as an agent in case some things do go wrong.

And gone wrong things have! His superior informs him that biological monsters, which had been created and bred in the Mota biosystems laboratory, have gone rogue and infected the regions of Motavia at a rapid rate. Because of this, Rolf is asked to investigate the cause of this phenomenon. Once he gets home to prepare for his journey, he is ambushed by best girl Nei, who has been rescued by him many months ago from the clutches of a serial killer. She does not want to be left alone anymore, and since she is also worried for Rolf's sefety, asks him to accompany him on the mission. Naturally, Rolf accepts.

Here, I do want to bring up Nei in more detail! She's in fact, the first of PSII's brilliant story-gameplay interactions, and here's why! Nei is in fact, a crossbreed experiment between a human and an unknown animal with cat-like features, but here's the thing: this said experiment was a failure. Because of this, Nei is only one years old, and yet her physical and mental age are progressing way more rapidly than they should. And you can feel this effect on the game itself: she needs way less EXP than any other party member in the game to level up, and because of this she will skyrocket in levels way beyond the rest of your crew... with a catch. Because of the nature of the experiment, the genetic code inside of her is slowly being messed up and corrupted, which not only causes her level ups to be less valuable than anyone else's, but it also becomes an important plot point later...  Unfortunately, despite her absolute cuteness, her status as a half-half made her a victim of bullying, racism and so much more, which is... pretty messed up to bring up at the time not gonna lie o_o

Starting up the journey, the party discovers that rogues have destroyed a neighboring city, and it just so happens that their base is situed at Shure, the first dungeon of the game . One assumption I like to make from this scene is that life has become so easy and careless on Motavia that people just went and did crime out of pure boredom, because life just wasn't thrilling enough anymore with Mother Brain doing everything it could for its inhabitants...

However, upon climbing said tower, Rolf and Nei find out multiple dead rogue bodies, whom have been presumably murdered by the many biomonsters roaming the place. They do, however, manage to find some dynamite and most importantly, a letter. This piece of paper informs our heroes that the daughter of a Darum, the very same person that tried to murder Nei months ago, is held captive in another tower, which explains why he turned to crime in the first place. They then decide to do the obvious, which is to rescue daughter Teim in her captivity location. Once they meet up with her, she explains her desire to talk to her father to set things straight and sway him from the life he's been getting into, as well as hide her from the surviving rogue members with the help of a veil. Our group manages to meet up with Darum, but... her daughter asks the party to stay put, as she does not want them to interfere with her as she explains things to her father. However, in the heat of the moment, she forgets to remove her veil, which causes Darum to not recognize her. In his confusion, he murders her own flesh and blood and sits there, stunned, as he watches the reason he caused many untold atrocities... wither away below him. Shocked and going insane by this situation, he sees no other way out... but to commit suicide with the help of a bomb.

It gets worse.

While this scene was tragic and brutal to say the least, it does allow Rolf to cross the previously guarded bridge where Darum was always located, which allows him to investigate his mission further.

I do want to make a sidenote here actually! Phantasy Star II does include eight playable characters, but unlike Rolf and Nei they do not join you at fixed intervals - instead, they will become available in your home town of Paseo once conditions are met. Sadly while they do have a recruitment quote, a few lines and a backstory, they do not have an impact on the main story in any way. This does blow as this means PSII does not have much in character development and interaction, but I did want to mention that there’s more to this game than just Rolf and Nei :P 

Upon exploring the regions of Motavia, the party manages to make its way to the Biosystems lab, and what they find here is horrifying to say the least. The lab is in horrible shape, with cracked floors everywhere. On top of that, there is no one inside the lab anymore, it being completely deserted, save for some horrible-looking creatures being kept insides tubes, decorating the now sinister looking building... Because of this, Rolf deems it safe to pick up the recorder inside the lab, to analyze it and try to find out just what exactly went wrong - if anything at all - to hopefully figure out why the world has been sacked by biomonsters. And sure enough, the gang make its way back to Paseo.  After handing over the recorder to the library located in Paseo’s Central Tower, it is now made clear: the biomonsters were caused by a large amount of energy used in a very short amount of time in those labs, causing them to mutate extremely rapidly. This had the predictable but unfortunate effect of ruining the natural order of the ecosystem, which is why these species are wrecking havoc without control. The librarian giving this information also makes the following connection: this outpour of energy must have come from Climatrol - another lab which regulates the weather of the terraformed planet so that it can sustain its new shape. Following this, Rolf and co. take a few steps to reach Climatrol - and I want to highlight a specific one!

The story somewhat pauses until then, but one of the dungeons you’ll go through is a garbage dump... and one of the treasures is a jet scooter you can use! Sounds cool, right? Well it is, but even such a cool object has been abandoned by the lazy society, since teleportation is much more convenient to them. I just thought it was a really neat detail, that’s all ^_^

Once making their way through the relatively normal Climatrol, something does wait for them at the top of the building... something... unsettling...

This is Neifirst. She was another failed experiment just like Nei, sharing the same biological data as her. However, unlike her sister, her creators tried to kill her on the spot due to her status. This made her enraged against the species that gave her life, and as an act of revenge, decided to unleash this bio catastrophy to slowly wipe us out. This is where another truth is revealed: Nei did not come with Rolf just to protect him, she actually wanted to put a stop to her sister, because while she did dislike being treated like a freak or a monster, she never wanted to hate her species as a whole... It remains that she still wants to stop her sister’s plans, and despite Rolf’s protests, the two engages in a fight. However, due to Neifirst being much stronger, Nei sustains heavy damage and is incapacitated. But, this is where the rest of the party comes in, and thus they finish the job and kill off Neifirst dead in her tracks, Rolf then quickly rushes in to his dear friend’s side, but as he does... it’s too late... Nei is dead.

This is yet another reason why Phantasy Star II is such an important game: it is, to my knowledge, the very first JRPG in which a major playable character dies permanently. Heck, Rolf even tries to bring her back through the local Clone Lab - because yes, citizens have access to eternal life by cloning their bodies until the end of time - but... since Nei’s genetic code was degenerating rapidly, they could not clone her body anymore. And, since Neifirst was also defeated, it is also impossible to get a fresh code back from anywhere in the world. Nei is dead. And you cannot do anything about it.

But don’t worry! It still gets worse!

But just as you’re about to find a way to fix this, it turns out that Climatrol has collapsed, which caused an immense flood all over the world. Since the government - and by extension, Mother Brain - isn’t happy about this, you are now considered a fugitive, a criminal. You are now the bad guy, and you are wanted for treason. 1989, anyone??

This is where the second brilliant story-gameplay integration of Phantasy Star II happens. Where until now you’ve only fought mutated monsters due to the outbreak, the government has now sent thousands of carious cyborgs and robots against you - and lo and behold, this is now the only thing you are fighting in both the overworld and dungeons, and the previous creatures are now nowhere to be seen. THAT’S REALLY SMART. Now sure, even if you are considered evil to many, you still task yourself with the task of unflooding the planet, and to do so you simply reactivate all four colored dams in the continent. However, upon reactivating the fourth one, your party is suddenly ambushed by a trio of robots sent by the cops, and this time? They succeed in capturing you. Your party is now sent in chains on a hovering satellite, as you are sentenced to slowly wither away and die in there without any trial of any sort, simply because you went against Mother Brain’s dear wishes...

But, something goes amiss. The sattelite starts to malfunction, and is now set to crash on one of the three planets of the Algol system. And despite you all trying to alter its course, it is too late. The satellite crashes onto Palma - the planet of the first Phantasy Star game - and it is gone.

That’s right! The planet in which many players took the time to save with Alis’s gang, to have a huge dungeon crawling adventure, the planet where you defeated Lassic in a glorious fashion. GONE. In only a few seconds. But... what about yourself? Well, you actually died! But a space pirate wandering close to the crash site pulled out your remains and cloned everyone’s body back to life... which makes you technically not yourself, and also dead, for the remainder of the game! ...May I remind you this game was developed in 1989?

Tyler the space pirate then escorts the zombie party back to Paseo, but not for long - you see, your commander, who hasn’t truly approved of Mother Brain’s actions against your group, allows you access to a spaceship. This is a big deal, because space travel as a whole has been banned ten years ago due to a major accident in which Rolf had lost his parents, and thus, the one stationed in Paseo is the last one remaining on the planet. But sure enough, Rolf takes the opportunity and travels to the ice planet of Dezolis, or Dezo.

And honestly? Even though this next part has nothing to do with the main story, it’s probably one of my favourites in the entire game. In this section, you simply must make your way through an abandoned space station, which has not seen use in years. At first, you’d think it was somewhat related to the spaceship incident, but as you explore this space station, you find a bunch of animals and newspapers lying around. You not only find some irrelevant ads about various products, but also news flash about a horrible gas spreading throughout the station, begging every inhabitant to evacuate immediately, which... definitively implies a very bleak fate to the place and its inhabitants o_o 

And on top of this unsettling setting, this is the first time you get to hear “Silent Zone”, my favourite track in the game. While the rest of the soundtrack is very upbeat, catchy and all around excellent, this track in particular is very... sad, desolate, lonely, in spite of it being just as catchy! It all combines for a brilliant example of “show, don’t tell” that really sets the mood perfectly to me <3

Either way, upon exploring more of Dezo - a frigid wasteland with few inhabitants - the party gets to meet up with Noah, a party member from Phantasy Star I! After reawakening from a cryogenic sleep, he then reveals that unlike Paseo and Motavia, Dezo basically never submitted with Mother Brain’s control and benefits simply because they did not want to live a life without any struggles. Unfortunately, this is also where you learn that Paseo came to terms with this *after* being to MB’s whims and as such, you can connect the dots and realize that the satellite crash was no accident after all... it was all planned.

Noah, however, knows about how deeply MB has ruined everything for the inhabitants of Motavia and thus tasks Rolf with collecting eight legendary ancient weapons all throughout Dezo, located within some ruinous, empty, cold dungeons which make for stunning atmosphere and presence, believe me!

Once that’s done, he then entrusts Rolf with the ultimate Sword and, thanks to kinetic abilities, sends him and his troupe to the space station housing Mother Brain. And once there, for the first time in centuries, a human being has met with Mother Brain.

And of course, the computer scoffs at those rebelling against her. She laughs at how they think they’d want a life with struggles, wtihout comfort, without anyone providing their needs, when work and hardship seems so uninviting on a desert wasteland like Motavia, or a frigid hell like Dezo. And yet, after a (pretty difficult!) battle, you emerge victorious! Or do you?

After the victorious outcome, Noah senses some additional presences beyond Mother Brain’s spot, and urges the party to investigate. And then... I don’t think I’ll even explain it in words. Please watch what happens. It is disturbing.

Yeah. We, the humans, were destroying our planet, Earth. Thus, we escaped through this spaceship to avoid extinction, and found the Algo system. It then, to our species, only seemed logical with so few numbers, to instead slowly weaken the population of all three planets with Mother Brain, making it then easy (although a very long process) to get rid of the population and start anew, even if it meant genocide. What I love about this twist ending is not only how it’s presented: the creepy music, the way you did *not* expect it at all, the number of humans on the screen at once, and so on... but also, how you don’t even know for sure how it ends. You don’t know if Rolf, Rudo, Amy, Kain, Hugh, Shir, Anna... if any of them survived. But it looks grim. It looks like we lost. And it looks like everyone we fought and tried to save... will rot until the final days anyway... Phantasy Star II... is important. Sure, I could talk about how the game is challenging due to how both your party members AND the enemies are very capable in battle or the stellar, catchy, memorable soundtrack...   but its story... is stunning. In 1989, we were still used to princesses being saved by armored heroes from dark dragons. We were used to things going all well in the end. But in 1989, Phantasy Star II taught us many things that would become staples in the future of JRPGs:  Yes, your cherished ones may die with you not being able to do anything about it No, you may not be able to save everyone you’d like to. Yes, your actions might make things worse for yourself and everyone else. No, things aren’t quite as black or white as they seem. And no, you might not always win. Phantasy Star II is a masterpiece. It’s a bit hard to approach this game today, but with a guide, this game is a must play. It’s unique. It’s ambitious. It’s chilling. And I adore this game to pieces. Thank you for reading, somehow <3

[twdmusicboxmystery]

FTWD 6x11: The Holding

Wow! Where to begin with this episode? We had some super-stellar parallels going here. I don’t think it was any secret that I wasn’t thrilled with last week’s episode. It was fine, but also kind of meh. I LOVED this week’s episode. So much good stuff!

***As always, spoilers for 6x11 abound below. Don't read until you've watched!***

So, we learn about these “end is the beginning” people. They’re staying in a place called The Holding, which is really an underground parking garage. (Um…cars, anyone? Let’s recall that Daryl and Carol walked through at least one parking garage in Consumed while looking for Beth. They also passed lots of above-ground ones, including one that had a red car with its door open in front of it. Also, the fact that it’s underground could make it a symbolic tomb/grave.)

These people are composting walkers to grow food underground. (People do use blood and bone feed to fertilize gardens. Like compost and waste, it really does help them grow. Of course in our society it’s ANIMAL blood and bone. Using walkers/humans is definitely more sinister and cringy. And they have proven that eating various parts of humans leads to things like Mad Cow’s Disease, so I do think Alicia’s question about food being grown that way being healthy is viable.)

But moving on.

It’s important to note that the showrunner called this group a cult, so are not they meant to be “good people.” Most of those that live there aren’t sinister, but they’ve been brainwashed into thinking their leader is a good man and that what he’s trying to accomplish is good. They’ve drunk the koolaid (or eaten the walker food?).

So, we have the ivy walker.

There really couldn’t be a more clear parallel to the blond girl Daryl saw on the tree in 5x15. Plus all the green ivy around her.

I believe we saw a promo of this walker early on. Like maybe nearer the beginning of S6. Which, thanks to Covid, was more than a year ago. I’d pretty much forgotten it, but we actually do see it in this episode.

The dogma of this group (“the end is the beginning”) is that from death springs new life. This walker is meant to represent that. Life growing out of death. And on its own, it doesn’t seem like an overly negative mission statement. After all, this world is full of death and people are trying to survive. But it quickly becomes obvious that there’s more sinister stuff at work here.

So what does this have to do with Beth? I think she’s the ultimate symbol of life springing from death. So, not only does this foreshadow her, but they’re also using her as a symbol here. I don’t know how this group may feed into future story lines, or if they’ll just be a FTWD thing, but it will be interesting to watch.

Some of the major things in this episode: a Sirius reunion, a Daryl/Merle parallel, Grady parallels, at least two major Beth/Bethyl proxies, and some tantalizing hints for what’s to come involving both this group and the CRM. (See why I loved this episode?)

Let’s dive in.

First, let me acknowledge all the background symbols. There are tons of them, and I don’t want to go into tons of detail about them. But we see cheese (think Morgan/Eastman), tomatoes, eggs (lots of food). We also see fire extinguishers, lots of green (especially paint), an elevator. You get the idea.

The first big thing that happens is Wes meets his brother, Derek, whom he thought was dead. 

Welcome to the first Beth proxy.

Okay, I didn’t remember much of this backstory or how much of it was told when we first met Wes. I do remember talking about his brother as a possible Beth proxy, but beyond that, I didn’t remember details. But they rehash it all here. Care to take a guess?

Wes went out for supplies and was overwhelmed by, you guessed it, a walker horde. He ran into a shed but it collapsed (becoming something of tomb) and the walkers were beating on the outside, trying to get in (think Beth and Daryl in the trunk). He passed out and woke up in The Holding.

That’s exactly like what happened with Beth, actually. She told Gorman she was fighting a walker and everything went black. She woke up at Grady.

The difference here is that Beth never bought into what Dawn was peddling, but unfortunately, Wes’s brother did. We eventually learn that he’s a true follower of “Teddy,” the cult leader and condones the murder that’s being done.

And of course that’s also what we think happened during the missing 17 days. Overwhelmed by walkers, left behind. Perhaps she woke up back at Grady, or somewhere else.

But the actual reunion between Wes and Derek is very on-the-nose. Because Wes truly thought this brother dead, he even says things like, “You’re alive?” and “What the hell?” Probably things that will be said about Beth when she finally shows up.

There’s also a serious/Sirius mention when they sit down to talk. And Derek keeps mentioning his bike. Like Daryl, he had a bike that Wes took when he thought his brother dead. But the fact that he mentions “bikes” like five times in this conversation is important.

I wanted to mention coffee. We’ve seen coffee as a symbol before, specifically around Carol. We first noticed it when Paula told her little story about the carrot, the egg and the coffee beans going into the water in 6x13. She said the coffee beans changed the water itself. So, coffee = a catalyst for change. But this episode made me realize it’s a catalyst for a change that’s not necessarily good.

Apparently, the supplies Wes’s brother went out for was coffee creamer. The change that came was not only him being left behind and presumed dead, but changing into a person that no longer empathized with other human beings. (Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we see Carol making and drinking coffee just before they went to the caverns and Connie disappeared?)

There’s also a huge eye/sight/see theme. They take everyone over to see this green-ivy walker and ask them what they “see”. The idea is that they should see life and possibility springing from death, but it’s just a way to indoctrinate them and check to see if they’re willing to go along with what the cult’s beliefs are. Lots of talk of eyes (opening your eyes), what one can and can’t yet see, etc.

Later, we see walkers with their mouths sewn shut. So we have at least the see no evil, speak no evil themes. There might have been hear no evil that I didn’t catch.

The second major parallel is to Daryl and Merle, since these two are brothers. 

But it’s more than just that. Wes took Derek’s bike after he disappeared (same as Daryl and Merle). When Wes found his brother again, he was with a bad group (with Merle, it was the Governor) or rather a group of decent people led by an evil man. Derek has a skewed mindset, and is working for Teddy. Remember that Merle not only worked for the Gov but even tried to kill Michonne at one point. And how they die is…similar. Merle’s, in the end, was more chivalrous, as he died to help save Daryl and TF. That wasn’t the case with Derek, but his death resulted from him pretending to work against Teddy. Unfortunately it wasn’t real, and he betrayed them, but there are still parallels/anti-parallels between the two stories.

How is this place like Grady?

There’s the underground tomb aspect, the fact that they grow their own food. At the beginning, Alicia’s group keeps asking them questions about the community, which Riley (Nick Stahl) pretty much refuses to answer.

One of them is, “Are we allowed to leave?” or “Is anyone allowed to leave?” That, of course, instantly reminded me of Grady. Now, they never answer it directly, and at one point, Riley says they can decide if they want to stay or not. But by the time we get to the end of the episode, I’m pretty sure that’s BS. So, like Grady, no one’s really given the choice to leave. Even if they tell people they can.

They’re taken into a room with medical equipment at one point. It just looks a lot like Grady, though I could tell it wasn’t the same kind of medical equipment. We’re told that it’s embalming equipment.

In fact, Al says something that should catch your ear. She says, “they must have hit the funeral home.” Naturally all our minds will go to Alone, but she’s talking about the funeral home she and Dwight (I think) were at before. I don’t remember which episode, but we talked about it looking a lot like the funeral home in Alone. So, I think Al is saying these people, The Holding, raided that funeral home and took the equipment. Kinda makes me think the funeral home in Alone will come back into the picture at some point.

And it turns out, The Holding is embalming walkers. Al’s group ends up in a room with dozens of walkers strung up by their wrists (kind of like Daryl and Michonne were in Scars). They’ve been embalmed and their mouths have been sewn shut.

So, here’s where the plot becomes super interesting. I mentioned above that Riley told them they could choose to leave at some point, right? Al was saying that everything they’ve set up is impressive—food, power, water, they’re very self-sustaining—but it felt like they were preparing for something big.

He admits that they are. He says they are planning to soon close the doors permanently. He says they never want to go topside again, and the new way to live will be underground.

Later, when talking to Morgan, Al sort of implies that maybe it’s not so much about them choosing to go underground as that something will drive them underground for a long time. Almost like they’re preparing for a nuclear winter or something. But we don’t know exactly what it is.

I think what we’re supposed to infer is that they’re collecting walkers to use as compost in coming years. (They even call the walkers ‘posters.) They’re embalming the walkers to keep them “fresh.” Riley says the walkers last about 2 months in the composter before they break down entirely, so putting away 20 or 30 walkers really will last them for years.

CRM Ties

Wes and Al snoop through Derek’s room. They find maps of different communities and some of those transparent overlays that have the three rings of the CRM on them. That’s how they know that this group is attacking communities (like Tank Town) and that Derek knows all about it.

The other thing Al figures out from looking at Derek’s maps is that the group seemed to be tracking the CRM’s drop sites. She thinks they want to get their hands on a helicopter. (So, when it comes to Nora’s group, who was in the high rise, this group wasn’t after them. The roof was a helicopter drop site and that’s really who they were after. Though, they might have set the plague on Nora’s people because they are trying to kill humanity.) And given that this cult might be planning the end of the world, clearly them getting a hold of a helicopter would be a bad thing. 

Al tells Dwight she’s going to go look for Isobel and warn her. I think she’s just planning to go to the drop sites and wait for a helicopter to show up.

So, we have more potential interaction with the CRM through Al. And I’m really hoping we get some good Bethyl symbolism and clues through this storyline. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on it.

Morgan and Burning it Down

Wes confronts him and talks him into leaving with them. At one point, Wes mentions Morgan. I think he just does it without thinking, because what would Morgan mean to his brother, right? But Derek instantly gets weird when he hears Morgan’s name, and Wes doesn’t really notice.

When they try to leave, they get caught, and it’s obvious Derek set them up. They’re taken to the embalming room, and Riley asks where Morgan is. They won’t say how they know him or why they want him, but they’re VERY interested in finding Morgan. 

I was thinking it might just be because Morgan killed those two guys in one of the early episodes when they attacked him in his truck, but they both died and wouldn’t have known his name from that encounter anyway. So I’m not sure what this is about. There are the tapes they were leaving at gas stations and such. Maybe that’s it, but it wouldn’t explain why they would want Morgan more than the others.

They’re taken to the embalming room and threatened with death. Derek takes Wes back to the ivy walker to see if he can “see” what Wes does. 

A fight ensues, and Wes throws Derek into the walker where he’s bitten. He shoots his brother so he won’t turn. The thing about this part is that it doesn’t show it. It instead shows the (somewhat yellowish) mural Derek was working on before, and Teddy’s voice is talking about how light comes from darkness. Then, we just hear a single gunshot. 

That gave me *major* Beth vibes.

Wes then goes back to the embalming room to rescue the others.

Wes’s reaction at this part reminded me a bit of Daryl/Merle too. Not so much at Merle’s death, but back in 3x10 when Daryl returned to the prison. It just struck me that, while Wes did cry when his brother died and clearly mourned him, he got over it really fast. He went back to where the group was and no longer seemed terribly broken up about it. I was just thinking he seemed to have figured out who his true family was and where he really belonged, and that that was more important than his brother’s warped mindset. Much like Daryl and Merle.

When he goes back, he takes Riley hostage briefly and they all escape into another room and bar the door. This room is full of the hanging walkers full of embalming fluid. They have to walk between them toward an exit on the far side.

Al Parallels Daryl in 5x15

Here’s another super interesting parallel. Al sees one walker hanging that has the black CRM gear on it, including the helmet, so she can’t see its face. She walks over to it and lifts its helmet, clearly looking to see if it’s Isobel, which it’s not. Such an obvious parallel to Daryl looking into the face of the blond walker on the tree. It even lunges at her and she kills it, like Daryl did with that walker.

What I liked here is that Alicia freaked out about it. She said, “what the hell was that?” Aaron didn’t say that to Daryl, so they weren’t drawing as much attention to it there as they did here. But clearly we are supposed to notice that, without knowing more, that behavior is bizarre. And here, we the audience know that Al was worried it was Isobel. But Alicia doesn’t. Where the blond walker on the tree is concerned, the audience is in Alicia’s place, not being terribly clear about what’s behind Daryl’s behavior. (I mean, TD is, but most of the rest of the fandom isn’t.)

So then Alicia says they should take this place down. When Al stabbed the CRM walker in the neck, embalming fluid poured out. Embalming fluid is highly flammable. So, long story short, Alicia stays behind to “burn it down” and the others escape. (I don’t have to explain that parallel, right? ;D)

It all happens really fast. We see Alicia light the match (which Al had; just reminded me of Daryl having matches in Rick’s hallucination in 7x01, and clearly Al = Daryl in this parallel), and then it skips to Al, Wes, and Luciana back with Morgan telling him what happened. They say the fire was huge and burned hot, and Alicia could have gotten out, but they couldn’t FIND her. They also don’t know if any of the Holding people got out.

So Morgan just says they’re going to go back and start at the Holding location to look for Alicia. I’m assuming that will happen next episode.

So, we aren’t exactly clear on this group’s dogma or what they’re trying to do, but it does seem that they want to kill off everyone who lives up top. Which is, you know, everyone. And once again, that makes them a lot like the Wolves. They believe killing people is saving them. I’m not saying these are Wolves or anything (they might be; after all, both groups tied a blond walker to a tree and believed similar things about killing off the remnants of humanity) but rather that the Wolves were a foreshadow of other groups to come.

And the next question is, are they part of the CRM? Because of the CRM walker, and what they implied about them trying to hijack a helicopter, I’m thinking not. But there’s clearly a lot of entanglement going on.

Alicia = Beth

So, in the final scene, we have some interesting developments. This may be the scene that got my mind spinning the most, just in terms of symbolic Beth potential.

We see Alicia, very much alive, and still in the embalming room, though now all the walls look blackened. So obviously the entire place didn’t burn down. (That doesn’t surprise me. It’s an underground parking garage. It takes a lot to burn down cement.)

She’s being held hostage in there. Riley comes in and says some weird, cryptic things. He says new life springs from death, for MOST people, and that they plan to preserve Alicia exactly as she is. It’s obvious they mean to kill and embalm her.

But I had the thought that maybe they meant her to take the place of the Ivy Walker. We don’t know what happened to that walker. It might have burned in the fire, but they didn’t show us either way. I was thinking that it would make a twisted sense for them to embalm Alicia (who tried to take their community down) and put her in its place. Which would make her a Beth proxy.

Riley leaves her alone with the embalming guy, but she stabs him in the eye (Sirius) and then, after a brutal scuffle, sticks him in the neck with the embalming needle, killing him.

It’s then that we finally meet Teddy, the leader of the cult. We hear about him and hear his voice a lot during the episode (they play tapes of him talking throughout the garage as people work) but this is when we first see him. It’s John Glover. I don’t know if everyone’s familiar with him. He was on Smallville back in the day. I totally forgot he was going to be on the show. He’s usually a villain, but more of a funny villain than a scary villain.

Anyway, he basically tells Alicia he has a special role for her and that he’s been looking for someone like her for a long time. He seems convinced that he can convert her to his philosophy, but he’s also fixated on the fact that she sacrificed herself for her family. So, it doesn’t say what he means by “someone like you” but I’m assuming someone who is brave or else self-sacrificial.

But here’s the thing. I’ve been thinking recently that they haven’t really done much with Alicia lately. She’s one of the few surviving originals for this series, and one of the most well known actors going into it, because she’s been on other highly-watched tv shows, but they’ve kind of been ignoring her.

So, I think this is the beginning of a big arc for her, and I think it will be a major parallel for what happened with Beth after she was left behind.

Alicia becomes a proxy here for Beth, not only because she’s in the Grady-like medical room, and stabs a guy in the eye, but Teddy totally razzes her about being left behind.

He says, “they left you behind.” She says, “I made them.” He says, “Yeah, but they obliged.” And then goes off about how they’re her family and family is sacred and they shouldn’t have done that.

And in my head, I’m screaming, “Beth! Beth! Beth!”

So yeah. Super intrigued by this episode. They’re setting up some really intriguing things and it will be very interesting to see what happens moving forward.

What did everyone else think of the episode?

[nullset2]

Mother 3 - An In-depth Critique and Review

Ah, Mother 3, how I love you so!

The game which with which I forwent all possible aspirations to healthily integate into normal High School society: imagine walking into a party, people are drinking and being cool, and you ask them if they have ever played a very underground, very deep RPG only released in Japan called "Mother".

Yeah! I know! It's like you're asking to be bullied, and I realized it too late.

But anyway!

Mother 3 is one of the most important games you could ever play --alas, if only it wasn't near impossible to obtain it.

Yet, perhaps this adds to its allure and to the power of its narrative --a narrative which, by the way, I'm convinced is the very actual reason why it will never release formally in the United States.

As time has passed, I've actually become more and more impressed about how relevant the game is to the socioeconomic reality that we are in nowadays. I'm impressed that Shigesato Itoi had all of this in his mind's eye as early as 1996, and that the story was already written down in 1999!

Right now it's been 14 years since it's release on the GBA, but I think that the game is a timeless classic and warrants a playthrough now more than ever. Wanna know why?

Wanna find out?

Part 1. "A Japanese Copywriter's Americana"

The year is 1989 and a Japanese Copywriter --somebody who writes "Catch Copies", which are a sort of a long-form slogan that is very common in Japanese pop culture to advertise)-- by the name of Shigesato Itoi became a fan of the Dragon Quest series of RPGs, which are massively popular in Japan, even to this day. He also loved video games: he's asthmatic, so he recalls only being able to sleep sitting up as a child, and having to occupy his lonely time through asthma attacks playing video games, since he had to sit up and had nothing else to do at night.

His love of RPGs would linger in his mind until 1989 when he had an opportunity to meet with Hiroshi Yamauchi and Shigeru Miyamoto and was offered the opportunity to develop a video game with Nintendo. Harkening back to the endless hours he poured into Dragon Quest, his concept eventually took form by deriving from it. He called the story "MOTHER", as a reference to John Lennon's "Mother", since he is a very hardcore fan of The Beatles. The games have tons of obvious influence by old American films and comics, like ET and Peanuts, which he also loved very much.

For MOTHER, he wanted to explicitly go against the grain, by designing an RPG without "Swords and Magic", which stereotypically most RPGs follow, even from things as minor as to design a protagonist who was weak and vulnerable, asthmatic and without a Father Figure, yet, still heroic through much toil --which reflects Ninten from the original MOTHER for the famicom.

Miyamoto, in his usual taskmaster persona, arranged a team to work with Itoi for the creation of the RPG, by bringing in people from HAL laboratory and APE Inc, and thus MOTHER was born to great Japanese Acclaim. A game which took many risks in its genre, such as eschewing the idea of a separate overworld from navigation in the towns, the subject matter, the movement system and many other things which made it quite Unique. It was so popular that soon after the first project was released, MOTHER 2 started development, involving people from what's currently known as Game Freak and HAL Labs.

MOTHER 2 is a very unique game because it was the very first time that the series attempted to make an incursion in the Americas. Releasing in a big flamboyant flashy box, with a strategy guide and a bunch of goodies included, MOTHER 2 released as Earthbound in the states, a bigger and better version of the vision of the first game. Better graphics, Beatles references, sampled audio, pop culture cornucopia, it's all here and then some!

Famous for its role in technically driving the game, Satoru Iwata, ex-CEO and software developer for Nintendo,7 of Wii acclaim, helped the game meet its 1996 release date. It is known that the original version of the game ran into deep technical issues which the original dev team was not able to overcome. Once Satoru Iwata got involved, the game was reworked to a viable version and released to much critical acclaim. In his own words, he proposed to rewrite the tech that powered the main game. It was a matter of either continuing with the current code and be done in two years, or redoing everything and being done in six months under his vision, he said.

No matter its strong promotion from Nintendo, the marketing got botched, and the game paled compared to the flashy and bombastic magical RPGs of its era, like Final Fantasy VI, Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger of all things. So, Earthbound faced a very bad destiny in the states, by releasing to low acclaim, bad review scores and terrible sales numbers --even though it eventually reached Cult Classic status, due to its pure hearted nature, its hallucinogenic themes and characters, and its fantastic spirit over all.

And this game is worthy of discussion by itself a whole bunch because of the ripple effects it had in video game culture in the Western world. Enter starmen dot net. To this date, the epicenter of discussion for everything related to the MOTHER series. There you had me as early as 2002, browsing a half-rendered version of starmen dot net in a dingy computer in some dingy internet cafe in some shitty neighborhood in Mexico, trying to be a part of the discussion and the hype.

To this date, I consider starmen dot net as the non-plus-ultra case for how passionate Internet fan cultures can become.

Flat out, no other fandom has ever came close to the level of dedication, attention to detail and passion to tribute the original creation around which its fans congregate. A massive amount of fan paraphernalia has come out of starmen dot net --yes, even Undertale, 2015 indie darling RPG thing, originally got started on the Starmen dot net forums. People married and even started large, commercially viable enterprises, such as Fangamer.net, the firm which publishes Undertale, from starmen dot net.

...and then... silence...

After Earthbound's 1995 release, we enter a ten year hiatus for the series.

Even though both MOTHER games were incredibly popular in Japan, HAL Laboratory and APE Inc. weren't able to successfully make a jump onto the third dimension for the series come the Nintendo 64 era. They had a demo come the infamous Spaceworld 96, where a bunch of pre-release games for the then called "Ultra 64", which was the codename for the Nintendo 64, were showcased. And lo and behold, we have a sequel to Mother coming out, called Mother 3, the ROM for which has never been found by the way.

I'd love to get a look at the materials in that ROM.

The scarce footage we have available from it exhibits some of the elements we ended up seeing in the final released version of the game, like some of the original music like the Mozart ghost theme, and the DCMC section, albeit in a more primitive low poly way. It is known that both studios weren't very proficient at 3d Game development yet, which was still nascent. This together with other factors, such as the fact that at some point development was moved onto the unreleased-in-America, unpopular 64DD addon, undisclosed factors dropped the game into development hell, which ultimately led to its cancellation in the year 2000.

Plenty of mystery surrounded the now defunct project, to the dismay of a bunch of passionate fans in Starmen.net and elsewhere online. However, it turned out that the valiant effort of the fans, who made a huge amount of effort to campaign for the revival of the series, even mailing fanmail, fanart and other materials to the Itoi Shinbun offices in Japan (a titanical task in the world of the early 2000s).

Fast forward to 2003, and the Game Boy Advance, the little portable console that could, was in its Apex. Due to Satoru Iwata's campaining, it was announced that development on MOTHER 3 would be restarted, this time in 2D, for the gameboy advance. Much anticipation in Starmen.net followed this announcement, since it finally validated its efforts...

Come 2006, once the console was well into its end-of-life, with small nudges to play the game on a Gameboy player if possible, perhaps to try to follow suit with its predecessors, the sequel finally released to much acclaim. But what did Shigesato Itoi have in store for everyone all along? What kind of beast had just been unleashed onto the World?

Part 2. "Of Monkeys and Men"

Mother 3 follows the story of a young boy, Lucas, in a multi-chapter structure, which is novel for the series but not unheard of in the RPG genre. Besides this, the RPG plays very similar to your usual JRPG fare, and basically uses the Ultimately polished version of the MOTHER series' mechanics, groovy backgrounds and all.

The first three chapters of the game follow the perspective of different characters residing in Tazmilly Village as the plot of the game unfolds. The plot is centered around the residents of a peaceful town in an Island in an unspecified location, Nowhere Islands, which in my opinion is an allegory both of Japan and America, moreover with the fact that the game of the logo very clearly has a rising sun covered in metal, in a logo that's an amalgam of two different things which don't match, a subtle reference to the game's undertones to come.

From these residents we come to know the daily lives of a particular family: Flint, a farmer; Hinawa, his wife (a name in reference to Sunflowers, Himawari, her favorite flower), and their twin children, Lucas and Claus.

The game begins in the midst of their idyllic life in the mountains visiting Lucas' grandfather Alec, and playing around with meek dinosaurs which inhabit Nowhere Islands. See, in the world of Mother 3, no violence truly exists, and people have come to live peacefully with each other and nature. There's no such thing as the concept of money, Instead relying on an economy that's mostly based around bartering and hospitality.

However, everyone's lives veer into turmoil once strange alien beings invade, the Pigmask army, an army of big, fat and slovenly creatures dressed in pig-like attire, who seem to have a vast amount of technology and resources at their disposal yet aim for Nowhere Islands for colonization.

The Pigmasks have an as-of-yet unnamed leader, who is demanding them to make everything in the World "bigger, cooler, stronger and faster", and thus they seize Nowhere Islands by force of bombings and a forest fire to use its flora and fauna. And thus, while escaping from the forest fires returning from Alec's home, Hinawa tragically gets killed by a Drago which has been modified to be aggressive against its nature through robotics implanted in it by the Pigmask army.

There's an unused cutscene in the game's ROM data where Hinawa, instead, dies by bomb explosion...

...yeah, I'm just... gonna let you process that one by yourself ;)

The Drago left a fang in the middle of her heart, which is recovered by one of the Tazmillians and provided back to Flint along with a fragment of her crimson dress. Besmirched and angry, Claus, the festier one of the twin children, sets out to try to hunt the drago and achieve revenge, but he goes missing... Flint embarks in search of Claus and to kill the drago, and thus the first chapter of the game concludes, with the implication that Claus has gone missing...

With Lucas' family torn to shreds and The Pigmasks invading Tazmilly, it seems that we're in a situation ripe for disaster.

Chapter 2 follows Duster's adventure, which runs in parallel (as every other chapter will) to other chapters' stories. Duster is the last heir in a bloodline of Cat Burglars whose abilities are not in use anymore given that Tazmilly has no more commerce or crime. However it turns out that the Pigmask invasion puts his skills back in demand to infiltrate Oshoe Castle and retrieve an artifact which the Pigmasks are after and which Duster's family is the guardian of. The nature of the artifact in Oshoe Castle is as of yet unknown, however it is implied that it is important to the fabric of Tazmilly village.

At Castle Oshoe, Duster meets a mysterious princess, Kuma-tora (which translates literally to "beartiger", in allusion to the dichotomy of her existence, since she is very... masculine in attitude and refers to herself with, yes, male pronouns, perhaps anticipating identity politics by 14 years at least), who is also after the artifact in the Castle, the Hummingbird egg. The chapter ends with the Hummingbird Egg going missing, and a mysterious peddler of goods arriving into town, while Kumatora and Duster's father realize he has gone missing...

Chapter 3 follows the adventure of a little Monkey, Salsa, which gets flown into Nowhere Islands to perform a job. This is a novelty in a town where the concept of a job doesn't exist as of yet, however, the peddler of goods is going to need a lot of hands if he wants to fullfill his vision. The peddler, Fassad (which is a tongue in cheek way to say "facade", right?) promises to all residents in Nowhere Island eternal happiness if they buy his newest product, the "Happy Box", a television-like contraption which glows with a warm light and which people are attracted to and engrossed by. For this, he introduces the concept of money and swindles people his way, convincing them that this is the way to go and promising them excitement and benefit if they listen to him.

Salsa delivers Happy boxes throughout the whole chapter, and gets shocked, even in the middle of the night, if something goes wrong with his job or tries to escape due to a shock collar implanted by Fassad. However, he runs into Kumatora and Wess, Duster's father, and they ploy together to free up Salsa and mess up Fassad's forceful takeover of Oshoe Castle, when Lucas shows up with several dragos in tow and fights against the Tank invasion of Oshoe Castle.

(A foreign animal being introduced into a new society with the express intent of exploiting it to propel forward a commercial enterprise by toil... geez, I dunno, where have I heard that one?)

From Chapter 4 Onwards the game adopts a more conventional JRPG scheme, through a timeskip which happens literally two years in the future. In this future version of Tazmilly, money (Dragon Points) and ATMs are now existent, similar to other Mother games. The game follows Lucas' adventure through a now-modernized and industrialized technologically advanced Tazmilly, trying to retrieve the "seven needles" from the island, which are soon enough shown to be a source of great power that the pigmask army is also after and to which Lucas must try to get to first due to a calling by mysterious beings which inhabit Nowhere Islands, the Magypsies. With a lot of emotional moments, such as Lucas having visions of his Mother in the middle of a field of Sunflowers, we follow the adventures of the party as they infiltrate the pigmask ranks and gather information about its nature and intentions.

It is then discovered that the pigmasks are commanded by a Masked leader, who dominates the power of thunder through a tower which was built in the middle of the town and which strikes anybody down with thunder if they overstep the Law and Order that the pigmasks have implemented. The party fights this masked leader in bouts while exploring the world and reuniting with a now missing Kumatora and Duster, who are found to have settled as employees in a Nightclub called "Club Titiboo".

Eventually, through his travels, Lucas gains an artifact from Mr. Saturn, the inhabitants of a special region in Nowhere called Saturn Valley and which has been passed down through all three Mother games, called the "Franklin Badge". When equipped, this item allows the bearer to become immune to lighting attacks and reflecting them back.

The party soon discovers that the world is inhabited by an special elder race, existant from before the creation of Tazmilly village and who know more about everything going on with the invasion, called the "Magypsies", a race of transexual, magical creatures who help Lucas discover the fact that he has Psychic abilities, also known as "PSI" within the MOTHER canon. He uses these to proceed further in his adventure to pull the seven Golden Needles, the first of which Fassad was attempting to get to, in the Courtyard of Oshoe Castle.

Lucas moves into a city called "New Pork City" in the conclusion of the game, which is a town built by the pigmasks completely in the honor of Porky, full of all sorts of Pigmask paraphernalia and amusement. It is found that the seventh and final needle is inside humongous tower in the middle of the city, the Porky tower.

Moreover, it is also revealed that the Pigmask army is led by Porky, known as "Pokey" in the American localization of Mother 2, Earthbound. Pokey is shown to have developed into a tyrant as an adult, with unlimited lust for blood and power, who used Doctor Andonuts' Phase Distorter after the events of Earthbound to mess around with the unlimited realities and dimensions it gave him access too, as a petulant child does with a video game. Once he got kicked out of every other possible reality due to the chaos he created, he found the Nowhere islands and decided to mess with it.

The climax of the game comes around Chapter 7, when the now fully-developed party runs into Leder, one of the original Tazmillian villagers, a lanky and really tall person who never spoke, not a single word, in the game until now. Leder is revealed to be the only person who knows what is the true nature of it all: tazmilly village is the remanider of civilization once the world of Mother 2 collapsed by cataclysm. A flood wiped away everything and the very last remainder of people who survived fled to nowhere islands in a big white ship and settled there, willingly forfeiting all technological advances and knowledge of the world into the Hummingbird egg, the artifact that Duster's family protected in Oshoe, a device which wiped everyone's memories, with the intent of undoing civilization and living back in a peaceful village-like state again.

It is revealed that when all seven needles are pulled, a supernatural power on which the island is built will be awakened. This supernatural power is revealed to be a Dragon by Leder, who had to be subdued by the ancestors of the Magypsies so people could live in Nowhere islands as their last resort. Whoever pulls out the needles which keep it in slumber will pass the intentions and nature of their heart onto the dragon. Thus, Lucas must be the one who pulls out the last needle instead of Porky or the masked man, in hopes that a second cataclysm like the first doesn't happen again.

After making their way through all the pigmask defenses, Lucas and Co. face off with Porky, who is now a bedridden, pathetic man. Doctor Andonuts from Mother 2, appears here, and is revealed to have developed a solution to contain Porky, the Absolutely Safe Capsule, which is a capsule which once it's sealed, it can never be opened again, trapping whoever is inside forever in a parallel universe where only them exist. The party is successful in locking Porky in the absolutely safe capsule, so, porky is not hurt by the end of mother 3, instead, he just has been locked away forever in a place far away from everyone else --perhaps, providing the ultimate form of comfort that a personality like his would seek after.

At the end of the game, Lucas and Co. face against the masked man, who is revealed to have been Claus all along, who, brainwashed with Pigmask ideologies, is hellbent on drawing out the final needle to awaken the dragon. Lucas and Claus face off in an emotive fight, where they suddenly remember each other and how friendly they used to be with each other... and moreover, their Mother. Claus strikes Lucas with thunder in a final murderous attempt before snapping out of the Pigmask brainwashing. But since he had the Franklin badge on, the attack is reflected and mortally strikes Claus, who, in his final moments, finally remembers Lucas...

The ending of the game is open ended, without showing much of what happened once the seventh dragon needle was released, so the ending of the game is subject to interpretation. However, it is heavily implied that, since Lucas was the one who released the needle, the dragon, once awakened, did not destroy Nowhere islands and instead led to a regeneration of existence.

Part 3. "A Musical-Adventure"

One of the pre-release materials for the game called it a "Musical" adventure, and I think this is completely warranted: the musical beautifulness of Hip Tanaka, famed Nintendo composer and long-time MOTHER music autheur, is joined by the expertise of Shogo Sakai, who gave the soundtrack a more mature, sample-based vibe, compared to the early two more "chiptuney" soundtracks in the series. The songs are all-time favorites of mine, and I still the soundtrack every so often given all of its mystique, its eclectiness and curiosness.

But the musical aspect to the game doesn't stop here: as an addition to the mother series, the battle system has now been changed to become rhythm-game based instead of simply turn based. If the player attacks an enemy during a battle, it is possible to strike additional damage as long as the player continues to press the attack button in rhythm to the background music in upwards of 16 hits. A full combo is incredibly effective and plays a nice fanfare if executed correctly.

As an enthusiast of rhythm games, this premise captivated me from the get-go and it works wonders, functioning as a breath of fresh air to the way overplayed mechanic of turn-based combat, which has existed since the 80s. It also provides a certain nice feeling to combat, given how every character has their personal musical instrument, with lucas being a guitar, Kumatora being an electric guitar, Duster being a bass, and Boney, Lucas' pet, being... barks.

Besides this the mechanics from Mother 2 are translated almost completely: every character has a rolling HP and PP counter, which rolls down over time as an airport display instead of immediately as in other RPGs. This may seem minor, but it adds an amazing element of strategy to the game, since it is possible to recover an ally from mortal damage if a healing PSI is executed against the clock before the counter hits 0.

Besides this you got almost completely conventional standard JRPG fare, with the character being able to move in eight directions in the overworld, with the addition of a run button, preemptive attacks and overpowered kills. Once you start facing enemies in the overworld, the first one to attack can be decided depending on the angle that the enemy was approached with: sneak up on an enemy from behind and a green swirl will display, which means that you get to attack first; if an enemy sneaks behind you, you'll see a red swirl and they will attack first instead. Otherwise, a gray swirl will display, which follows conventional order according to your stats.

Part 4. "WE WANT MOTHER 3, REGGIE!"

...Mother 3 will never be released in America.

This may be too dramatic of an opinion to have but I see no other alternative. For the most of fourteen years, Nintendo of America's head honcho Reggie Fils-Aime was requested to release and distribute the game in the americas, and for twenty years the request fell on deaf ears, citing commercial inviability, potential copyright infringment and many other reasons.

But I think the main reason that the game will never be localized is because Mother 3 was a passion project, pushed for by people with personal involvement in the series and very special sensitivities about it. Shigesato Itoi and Iwata were personal friends. The game appeals to japanese tastes and touches on issues and subjects that the American population is very politically sensitive to.

For example, in chapter 6 Lucas and the party experience a bad trip because they eat hallucinogenic mushrooms in a swamp. This leads to Lucas having visions of his family in a very bad light, with implications of violence and abuse, to try to get at the players' deepest sensitivities. Even the name of the real player is used here.

I think that it's impossible that nintendo will release a game which openly involves Hallucinogenics no matter its innocent exterior. This is the kind of subject in media that Japanese audiences usually handle better than American audiences.

Besides this, the game has very clear allusions to accelerated capitalism, anti-capitalism, colonization, slavery, transexuality and the changes and chaos they have brought onto the world, which is a tough subject to tackle in the Americas, which is still part of an ongoing, vicious culture war.

Particularly, I adore how the game even tries to convey its points through the Sound Test, of all places. Mother 3 has a collection of music pieces, which are available on demand within the game itself. Of those, there's a music piece which is a remix of Pollyanna, the Mother 1 theme, which is present throughout the series, in an nod to the previous games in the series. The hallway where this plays is full with mother references and it expects the player to sit down and watch passively all the references in order.

But this is meta, amazingly enough. The hallway is located in the final section of the game, before facing Porky, who is presented as the effigy of vicious capitalism in the game. As if he left them in his palace just as collectibles, things to be purchased or acquired.

The name of the song which plays during this sequence? "His Majesty's Memories". Subtle.

Nintendo is a company which tries to keep its image clean and sterile, so it can be used broadly for a variety of projects, usually with family friendly intent behind --and even more so in the US.

However, Nintendo has a history of risky bets with Mature content, which has become even more glaring lately: you got Eternal Darkness, Astral Chain, Bayonetta, No More Heroes, the disappointing Metroid Other M... this together with the fact that most of their target audience is of age now, could, at least remotely, mean that, perhaps, Mother 3 releasing in some manner in the future, localized in English, could happen: however, this is not happening at least the way I see it.

Once the game was released, there were several different campaigns online to try to gather Nintendo's attention: a 10k signature strong petition was completed among several other things, and if this hasn't lead to results... I don't know what will.

Part 5. "No Crying Until the End"

Mother 3 is a beautiful, engrossing and captivating game which is hidden away under a cutesy exterior. Its complex themes and characters are evoking of deep human truths which call out to us and ask us to reflect on things and the way we're living. Of strong pedigree in its series and with a superb musical production behind it and a mastermind of writing, MOTHER 3 excels at what it sets out to do.

When the game released, the game had a "Catch Copy" written for it by itoi himself, which called the game "Strange, Funny and Heartrending", and I think this is a beautiful way to bring everything full circle. Itoi wrote on the Advertisement that if you wanted to cry because of Mother 3, you should save it until the end. And those three words are a fantastic way to close off this review: if you want a game that will provide you with bizarre and laugh out loud moments one second and tear-jerkers the next, Mother 3 is the game for you.

And the game is just so poignant... to this date not only do I think it's one of the most expressive and well done pixel-art based game, I still find myself impresse at how much I can connect with the characters through small, cutesy sprites and pastel color pallettes, lack of Unreal engine and RTX graphics card be damned. Themes of grief, missing a loved one who's gone, the feeling of loss of identity due to accelerating social and economical change, how tyrannical political figures establish themselves and change communities, sexual and identity politics and how the modern world was to have shaky and voraginous sexual identities become commonplace... it's all there, and masterfully, tastefully expressed, without that icky feeling of "agenda"ism that you can get sometimes from Hollywood productions when they try to hamfist tropes and "messages" down people's throats. You know that feeling? I hate it when it happens in movies or shows I'm watching just to have a good time, and then I get some succint propaganda.

But MOTHER 3 is a kind beast, trying to reach to your heart and directly speak to the mind of the player. It tries to show us what it thinks of modernity and to make us seriously ponder what the frick is up with all of this shit, and thinking it has kept me for the last 14 years, and I anticipate another 20 ahead of me. And you can join me in reflecting about this...

Or maybe you can just go back to your happy box. Whichever way you choose.

[tysonrunningfox]

Ripped: Epilogue

Last year, the day after Thanksgiving on vacation in London, I went on a Jack the Ripper tour, thinking it would be a fun, goofy adventure, but instead it planted the seeds for the first time I ever made plot work on purpose.  This has been so much fun and I’m so grateful for how involved so many of you lovely people has been, it has made something that I took on with a lot of personal rigor doable.  

Ao3

“You were short on rent.  Again,” Snotlout leans against the doorframe of Hiccup and Astrid’s shared bedroom, arms crossed, and Astrid rolls her eyes, pausing halfway through trying to tie Hiccup’s tie to answer him. 

“No, I’m not, I told you I’m not paying for half of your NFL package.” 

“You watch it too!”  He insists and she pats Hiccup on the chest, wordlessly assuring him that she’ll be back focused on his nervous expression soon. 

“That’s because you sit on the remote,” she reminds him, “I’m not paying for it.”

“You look like an adult,” Snotlout changes the subject, gesturing to Hiccup’s new khakis and dress shirt under a borrowed blazer.  The tie is proving more difficult, but she’ll figure it out.  “Where’d you get the jacket?” 

“Astrid,” he says, voice pinched as he adjusts the sleeves, looking over her shoulder into the mirror she’d salvaged from her apartment that’s still propped against her bookcase, which is stocked with the overflow that wouldn’t fit in the office when they combined libraries.  He touches his hair and a piece at the back pops straight out. 

“Why did Astrid have a men’s blazer?”  Snotlout laughs, “unless it’s a woman’s—”

“Tuff and I are the same size, ok?”  She glares at him, “shut the door on your way out.  Please.”  She adds the last word to make it happen faster, even if her voice isn’t polite enough to let it carry any weight. 

“Quickie before the interview—”

“Shut the door.”  She smiles, patronizing and not letting it reach her eyes, “or you’ll see something you don’t want to see.” 

“Guess it’s my last chance to say good luck,” Snotlout directs that at Hiccup, “you’re going to kill it—”

“Snotlout!”  Astrid takes a pillow off of the bed and throws it at him, hitting him squarely in the face, “shut the damn door!” 

“I’m keeping the pillow until I get the twenty bucks,” Snotlout waves the pillow that he barely caught in the air before shutting the door, mouthing ‘good luck’ at Hiccup through the gap. 

“Then I’ll buy a new pillow,” Astrid doesn’t care if he heard her last dig and she refocuses on Hiccup, adjusting the untied tie under his collar, “he’s right, you’re going to do great.” 

He smiles, cheeks tight under the beard that’s thankfully finally filling out, especially since he decided he’s determined to keep it during his job search.  She gets his motive and is frankly a little jealous that he can stop shaving and suddenly he won’t look like the suspect whose picture spent weeks all over the news while she’s stuck with a baseball cap and a glare to not look like the student temporarily presumed missing in association with the same case.  He’s lucky that it’s starting to look good, official, aging him a few years in a way that makes his green eyes more vulnerable as he catches her hands, tugging them away from the tie she’s been tangling more than knotting. 

“I look like I’m wearing a costume,” he gestures at himself and she tilts his chin down to force eye contact. 

“Aren’t you?”  She points at the top hat hanging on the side post of the headboard with her chin, “you aren’t exactly in your natural state.” 

“I knew I should have rented a tux,” he jokes, voice shaky along its edges, almost fluttering, “gone full white tie with the hat and a monocle.” 

“Maybe I’d have better luck tying a white tie.” 

“It’s fine,” he pulls the tie off entirely, throwing it on the bed and running a frustrated hand through the hair they just got done trying to comb.  He instantly looks more like himself and she sighs, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. 

“You’re right, it’s the historical society, not a bank.” 

“Yeah, at least a bank would have to google my name to learn about that time I was framed for murder, I’m sure everyone at the historical society was following the case independently.”  He laughs, sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands.  “Thousands of blogs and websites and comment threads with advice about how to dress for an interview and how to introduce yourself, but there’s not a single Buzzfeed list about how to conduct yourself after being wrongly and publicly accused of serial murder?  That seems like an irresponsible knowledge gap.” 

“Maybe you can write something up,” she sits down next to him, wishing there was something real she could do to help.  “Look, Hiccup, they wouldn’t have scheduled an interview if they didn’t think you could do the job.” 

“Or maybe they just want gory details,” he says before groaning, sitting up straight and squinting his eyes shut for a second, “you’re right.  I know you’re right.  Somehow filling in the non-existent work experience on my resume with claims that I’m a self-starter and quick-learner made them call me.” 

“I think it had more to do with the cover letter,” she rolls her eyes, out of gentle reminders after a week of his mounting anxiety, “I don’t think most applicants make a case for a building to be declared historically significant before they’ve even been interviewed.” 

“Gruff’s should be preserved,” he insists, “especially since Tuff took out the drop ceiling and found that art deco pressed tin—”

“Hiccup.” 

“And not only is it one of the last authentic speakeasies we have left, since they tore down the building on third, and even there the drug store using the space tiled over the original wallpaper—”

She kisses him to cut him off, laughing and wrapping her arms around his neck when he keeps trying to make his point, mumbling about hidden cabinets against her lips.  It takes a minute, but he relaxes with a sigh, hand sliding to her lower back to pull her closer, thumb dragging slow and sweet against her spine.  His muffled sound of disappointment when she tries to pull back keeps her there another second, dropping two soft pecks on his lips before anchoring him with her hands on his cheeks and looking seriously into his eyes. 

“Save it for your interview, ok?” 

“Save the kissing for my interview?”  He grins, lopsided and relaxed, at least momentarily.  “I thought I was moving on from my sordid past, prostituting myself in the alleys for a few bucks.” 

“Save your lectures on old buildings for your interview,” she kisses his forehead and stands up, offering him her hand and pulling him to his feet, “I can’t think of any audience more primed to hear them than the Berk Historical Society.” 

“You know, Tuff did manage to turn a profit this month,” Hiccup’s eyes flicker unsure, “bartending is a viable trade, it’s going to be around as long as people numb their feelings with alcohol.” 

“But historically significant buildings won’t if someone doesn’t start advocating for their wallpaper,” she reminds him why the job appealed to him in the first place and he sighs. 

“And if they just want to talk about Grimborn?”  He refers to the original killer but points to recent memory with his tone and she thinks for a second before picking up the hat and offering it to him. 

“Give them a tour.   Prove that you know more about this city than anyone else.” 

“I don’t need the hat to do that,” he sets it on her head with that crooked smile, “plus, it just makes me think about you now and I don’t need the extra distraction.” 

“You should probably get going,” she checks the time, pushing him gently towards the door before he can invent any other reasons to delay. 

“Right,” he leaves the room and she pauses to put the hat back on its unofficial headboard hook before following.  Hiccup is standing in the middle of the living room with the TV remote in hand, paused mid-step to watch something. 

“…recent events, it was decided that the apartment complex at 324 Harbor Road would be converted into low income housing, however when renovation began in the second-floor apartment where Grimmel Grisly’s last murder recently occurred, a possible clue to a much more famous murder at the location was discovered.” 

Hiccup looks at her, eyebrows raised as the anchor continues. 

“…possible forensic evidence found at the Elizabeth Smith crime scene could potentially reveal the true identity of Berk’s most famous outlaw, Viggo Grimborn, The Harbor Street Killer.  We have an expert here to discuss the—”

The TV screen turns black and Hiccup tosses the remote onto the couch, where it bounces off of a throw pillow and onto the floor. 

“You don’t want to watch that?”  She cocks her head, his suddenly self-assured, almost peaceful smile catching her off guard. 

“I like the mystery,” he repeats the words that infuriated her when a nuisance from another era stood in a courtyard and shouted them.  “So, I’ve got to go convince a room full of architecture nerds that I’d really love to help them save some of the old buildings that Berk has left, especially if they pay me.  Wish me luck.” 

“You don’t need it,” she insists, “you’re going to do great.  I love you.” 

He stands up a little straighter when she says it, like he always does, and she believes her own assurance even more. 

“Cool, I’ll call you when I’m done.”  He points at the TV and whispers, conspiratorial tone lighter than she would have expected, “don’t go solving Grimborn without me, ok?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

What if the main reason Ryan Stoker wanted to bring the dead back to life was because he wanted to see his one true love again? But due to the fact that they “didn’t turn out quite right” he had to watch someone brutally kill his s/o, so he had to watch her die again, her second death. I’m so mean to him but he’s still my boi.

I can’t believe you made me write this with my own two hands

YOU OWE ME FLUFF YOU NERD,,

God, he misses her so much. He wants to hold her in his arms again. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

He just wants her back.

It’s not been long since Rian lost his beloved, but it’s passing so slowly it’s felt like an eternity. When he first lost her and was reeling in the grief, people told him the first year would be the hardest. Nobody mentioned that the second year would be just as hard. Or the third. He feels like he’s been wandering around without her for his entire life and the fact that the majority of his life is still ahead, without her, is terrifying.

To think that she might be back now, after he put in so much work to bring her back to him, is overwhelming.

(Name) is the first of these experiments within the Society that everyone thinks may actually work the way they want. He’s been trying and trying and trying to perfect the process, and now, after so many failures, it might work flawlessly with her. The rest of the members want it so badly to work, because they have seen how heartbroken and desperate a man Rian is over her.

It has to work. It has to. The Undertaker promised Rian he would have her back.

They all know how dangerous this is, and so at least two other members are hovering around the coffin as he waits breathlessly by her side. Everything has gone so right with her, and what will he do if he has to go home without her a second time?

When her body rises up into a sitting position, he feels his heart skip a beat. Even though there is the cloth around her eyes for everyone’s safety, aside from that, she looks almost like she did just the day before she died. Rian has painstakingly brushed her hair so it falls perfectly, and done her makeup precisely the way she wore it before. He’s even dressed her in her favorite gown.

God, he loves her so much. She’s so beautiful. He’s missed looking at her so much, and touching her, and seeing her smile when she realizes he’s staring at her.

(Name) makes a low, gurgling noise that speaks to dissociation. His heart aches for her; she must be so confused, separated from her body as she’s been for the past several years. Likely she has no idea where she is, what’s happened, and unaware of the fact that she’s been dead.

“Oh, my love,” he cries softly. Tears form in his eyes as he leans over to brush his fingers over her cheek. She’s still pale, and ice-cold like she was when he gave this same gesture at her funeral. Perhaps in time, she will regain her color and warmth. She’ll grow stronger and more aware, then they can be truly happy together. Her skin is softer than he remembers, which strikes him as promising.“I missed you. I ― I never knew if I would see you again… you’re my whole world, my heart and soul, you’re the breath I draw into my lungs… you are my everything.”

Despite her marked lack of response to his voice, Rian carefully places his arms around her neck to pull her close. All his hard work is undone when his hand grasps a section of her hair. When he takes a breath in, the perfume she’s been adorned with fills his senses, but underneath there is the scent of death, a sickly sweet rotten smell.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t. This is his other half, his beloved (Name), the one person he can’t possibly live without.

Now that he has her back, maybe he can start to live again.

She makes another noise, and he holds her tighter, pressing a longing kiss to the side of her head. “I missed you,” he sobs against her hair. “I missed you so much, my darling, my sweetheart, my precious love. The only thing that has urged me to get out of bed every morning is the thought of seeing you again. Of holding you in my arms again, and kissing you, and having you back. I love you with my entire self and with everything that I am.”

His tears start to spill over. “We’ll pick up right where we left off, (Name), I swear!” he laughs, and pulls away enough so that he can look at her face again. There are no words to describe how much he just wants to look at her again. The empty hole in his heart that was left when she died is starting to regain its contents. He squeezes his eyes shut as tears roll down his cheeks.“You still have your ring, so ― so we can finally get married! And we’ll get a bigger house, and… and we can start a family! We can raise our children, and then we’ll grow old together, and ― and―”

His heartfelt list of wishes is cut short when he’s suddenly yanked backwards. One of the other members has wrenched him away from (Name), and he lands hard on the floor. “What ― what the hell?!” Rather than looking toward his darling, Rian aims a withering glare toward his fellow Aurora. “What are you doing?!”

“Saving your life, you bloody idiot!” The other man returns the expression twofold. “She almost took a bite out of you!”

“… What? No, no, no…” Rian’s heart sinks as he swivels his head to look toward (Name). The blood in his veins freezes when he sees the state she’s in now. One hand is on the casket, holding it so hard the wood is splintering. Her mouth is wide open, snapping every few seconds as if looking for something to bite down on, and there are horrible, animal growls coming up from somewhere deep in her chest.

It’s just like the experiments before that failed. All that happened is that it was a moment longer before the unstable nature took hold. She can’t see him, or hear him, or feel his touch. She may be moving, but she isn’t alive.

He’s failed again.

He shakes his head as if he thinks that alone will make this not true. “No, please… this can’t happen… please…”

The other member takes a step in front of Rian, drawing his gun. (Name) has begun an attempt at getting herself out of the casket, and if her motivations are anything like the other failures, she’s very likely acting on pure killing instinct. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” the other man sighs. It’s very clear that Rian’s fellow members wish this didn’t have to happen. Unfortunately, the fact is that nothing will stop these creatures except another death. Of course, they can’t simply shoot her; that won’t work.

“She’s like the others. Not viable.”

Rian’s shoulders quake with the effort of not allowing heartbroken wails to tear themselves from his throat. Where happened this time? Where is her soul, her personality, her emotion? Where is the woman he loves? Why can’t he bring her back?! “Please, no… not her… it ― it should have worked… oh, no, my darling, please…”

Even though he can’t bear to watch as several of the other Auroras hold (Name) back and begin the brutal, agonizing process of bashing her head in, he can still hear it. Every blow they give, every crack as the gun connects with her skull, every sickening squelch as blood splashes onto the floor. Rian is huddled in the corner, listening to the entire thing, unable to escape it.

Once the others tell him it’s safe, he doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t even want to move. She’s dead once more, and it’s all his fault. Why can’t he just get this right? What the hell is he missing?! Finally he gets to his feet, walks over to the coffin, and with shaking hands, he cradles his beloved’s corpse for the second time.

He doesn’t look at her face, but he tangles his fingers into her scarlet-soaked hair as he lays his head on her chest. He wants to vomit ― instead he sobs like a child who’s lost his best friend. His hand combs through her hair, lodging blood underneath his fingernails.

Despite knowing she’s gone, and she wouldn’t be able to feel pain anyway, he can’t bring himself to be anything less than gentle with her.

He takes her hand, pressing a broken kiss to her fingers. “Look at you,” he cries as he holds her hand to his forehead. “Look at what I’ve done to you. I’m ― I’m so sorry, my love… I’m so sorry… I miss you… I need you back… I’m sorry… I love you so much…”

Everyone else is silent as a graveyard to let him have this moment with her. Most of them worry that he’s going to leave now, because he didn’t accomplish what he set out to do when he joined their cause. Some of them are certain he won’t try again, that he can’t try again with (Name), that her body is too mangled now.

At last, Rian draws away from her corpse. His eyes avoid her head, hand clasping around hers so tightly his arm is trembling.

But when he speaks to the rest of the Auroras, his voice is even and decisive.

“Find out what. Went. Wrong.”

[algarinayush92]

Individual Grape Trellis Cheap And Easy Cool Tips

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Merlot Grape Plant

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How To Plant A Grape Seeds In Skyblock Roblox

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When you're ready to plant vegetables and fruits and the other hand, Vitis vinifera, native to Europe and Spain.A couple of minute to adjust the number of buds from the nursery.That is why is most common mistakes that you should not waste a single fruit from birds, fungus, insects, etc. and help to ensure the grapes with your vineyard.This is true that it takes to grow grapes because of the grape planting and waiting.As you know, sunlight is key to your particular climate and area you live in such a rich harvest.

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Sweet Lies 3

A/N:  This is the third chapter for an in-progress series, the links for which are on my mistresslist. 

The gloaming descended, the moon a pale sickle in the darkening sky.  You walked through a quiet neighbourhood, surrounded by houses sitting with acres of woods on one side, and the bay on the other.  Fireflies lazily floated around you, some alighting on you, as you let your head loll back to better breathe in the humid, green scent of an oncoming southern summer night.  Though you detested the airless, wet heat, which gripped your skin like a needy lover, you loved this time of day, this time of year.  You loved the fireflies, the sounds of the crickets, and frogs, and alright, to be honest, there was a tiny part of you that found the humid warmth somewhat romantic.  It made you think of long, sweaty nights, with someone you loved. You sighed.  You’d watched too much True Blood as a teen.  

Strains of Massive Attack’s “Angel” lightly floated through your earbuds as you sauntered through an after-work walk.  It was still too hot to run, but you welcomed the chance to wind down from another day of dealing with unnecessarily hysterical people loudly whingeing their way through ultimately irrelevant complaints.  Since the incident, you made sure to keep the volume on your music low enough that you could still hear everything around you, even though you bitterly resented that change to your routine.   Despite that precaution, you didn’t hear any movement when a shadow detached itself from one of the trees and slowly approached you, though you did see it out of the corner of your eye.  Turning, you faced the shadow, lips pressed thin, standing your ground as it came closer, though your heart was thumping so hard, you could feel the blood rushing in your ears.  You were in the middle of a neighbourhood nice enough for everyone to come running if you screamed but, as you weren’t much of a screamer, you slid your hand into your hip bag, wrapping your fingers around your brand new collapsible stun baton.  

The figure emerged from the shadows of the overhanging trees, the glow of a nearby street-light slowly washing over his pale face, eyes like black smudges.  

Your voice was sharp when you asked, “Baekhyun?”

A slow smile melted across his face as he held up his hands.  “In the flesh.”

You sighed, and released your baton.  Chastising him, you asked, “What are you doing here?  You startled me!”

He tilted his head.  “I was taking a walk after work, when a stone made its way into my shoe.  I was leaning against one of the trees for balance when you walked by.”  He sauntered closer.  “Fancy seeing you here.  First the grocery store, then the park, then work…”  He leaned down until his face was directly in front of yours. “Are you stalking me, little girl?”

You pushed him away in exasperation.    “We live three blocks away from each other in a relatively small town.  Of course we’d run into each other often.”  He smiled as if he had won some sort of victory, but you were still too grouchy from his heart-pounding entrance to pursue it further. “Besides,” you said as you turned to continue your walk.  “I’m not a little girl.  I’m probably older than you.”  

He comfortably fell into step beside you.  “How old are you?”

Here it comes, you thought.  Time to nip this odd flirtation in the bud before you get attached.

“30,” you said shortly.

“I’m 26.”

“Awww,” you sing-songed, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “You’re a baby!”

He maneuvered around you, neatly backing you into a nearby tree.  Looming, he leaned in, resting his hand on the trunk over your head, the close proximity forcing you to look up to see his face.  His eyes were in shadow again, though you could see their glimmer in the dark.  “I’m bigger than you.  Taller than you.” His glittering eyes drifted languidly down your body, as he tilted his head thoughtfully.  “I call you little girl, because that is what you are, despite being born a couple of years before me.”

“A couple of years?” You jutted your chin defiantly, and softened your voice into a condescending croon.  “Four, my dearest darling.  Four is not a couple.”

He leaned even closer, and you stiffened, your back thumping against the tree as he closed the distance between you until his mouth was only thought away from yours.  When he spoke, his voice was so deep and slow that you had to sink your teeth into your lip to keep from reacting. “I guarantee you, what I lack in years, I more than make up for, in experience.”

You looked up at him mutinously, actively controlling your breathing so as not to give away how nervous his closeness made you.  “Duly noted,” you bit out, your lips thin.

One moment he was there, with you, in the dark, and the next, he had backed back into the light glowing from the old street lamps.  He tilted his head, watching you.  “Are you coming?”

You took a moment to compose yourself, then pushed off of the tree and rejoined him, the two of you walking together in silence, through your normal running route.  He walked so closely that, if you wanted, you could touch him if you moved a handbreadth, but he didn’t touch you.  You reached your door much sooner than you would have liked, though the logical part of you primly reminded that what seemed to be happening wasn’t quite normal, that it would probably be wise and best to start politely shutting him down when you saw him around, especially considering the fact that you were now co-workers.  Without thinking, you dipped an awkward little curtsey, and started toward your door, trying to make your escape.  “Well, good night!”

“Come back,” he said quietly, using the same tone of command as he had in the grocery store, and despite yourself, you found your treacherous legs turning around, carrying you back to him.  

You cleared your throat, casually brushing your hair behind your ear with your ring finger, and tried to give off the impression that you had returned of your own accord.  “Yes?”

His eyes were giving off that dark gleam again.  You could almost imagine that there were no whites, just two black voids, where his eyes should be, but instead of alarming you, that thought thrilled you with a frisson of attraction.  He reached out, and slowly wrapped his hands around your wrists.  “I want to see you again.”

You fidgeted.  “You will see me again.  We work across the street from each other.  I’m at City Hall all the time.”

He tilted his head. “You know what I mean,” he said, his voice brooking no equivocations.  

You sighed. “Why?  Do you have some sort of…damsel in distress fetish? Because any way I look at it, this flirtation?  What you’re doing?  Doesn’t make sense.  I am four years older than you.  I am poor, chubby, I live with my dad, and I’m a lowly city advocate. There’s absolutely nothing about me that should attract you.  Are you—“ here, you gasped dramatically, “–are you a chubby chaser?”

He snorted.  “First of all, you’re what, 10 lbs overweight? 15? I believe the word for that is toothsome, and believe me, all of that extra weight has settled into imminently agreeable locations.  Besides, even if you weighed more, the way I see you exercise, you’d probably lose it anyway, and you’re still quite pretty with it, all the same.  Secondly, why do you keep mentioning your age?  Am I going to spontaneously become unattractive on my 30th birthday?”  

You gaped at his bald speech, but then remarshalled your arguments, “Society makes it different for men, and you know it.”  

“I know that I’m a man. I like women.  Tall, short, chubby, slender, buxom, flat, athletic figures, hourglasses, younger than me, older than me, I like it all, and I like what I see when I look at you.  Furthermore, I like what I hear when you talk to me.  I like your pretty eyes, and your soft hair and skin, and your sweet little mouth.”

You sniffed in mock offense. “My mouth is not little, sir! It’s quite full, thank you very much! And, wait a minute, toothsome? What are you, the Big Bad Wolf?”

He laughed, eyes crinkling into crescent moons.  “No, that’s my brother.  He’s in France right now.  Listen. I think that you’re pretty, I think that you’re interesting, and I want to take you on a date.  Say yes.”

“You really are bossy, do you know that?”

“When I want something, I go for it. Besides…I’ve seen the way that you react to me.  I’m not unattractive to you.  So, there’s no problem.”

“I have cellulite.”

“No, you don’t.”

You tilted your head, and looked at him askance.  “How would you possibly know one way, or the other?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but those leggings you run in leave very little to the imagination.”

“I am scandalized!”

“I’m not the one wearing the skintight leggings.”

You snorted, conceding that point, but quickly pivoting to another.  “I don’t think that it’s a good idea to date a co-worker.”

“We work in different departments, and neither of us reports to the other.”

You sighed.   “I can’t really afford to date right now—“

“—What’s to afford?  If I’m asking you out, then I’ll pay.”

“That makes me uncomfortable.  I don’t like having guys pay for me.”

“Then we’ll do something free.  I would be just as happy going on a hike, on a picnic, or to the beach as I would going to dinner, or the movies, or whatever, as long as it means that I get to spend time with you.  Go out with me.”  

“Even if our first date doesn’t cost anything, eventually you’re going to want to start going out on dates that do cost money, and we’ll run into the same problem.”

“That is a very easily surmountable obstacle.”  You looked to the side, and he moved his head to catch your eye, again.  “I think you’re pretty…  Say yes.  I think that you’re interesting…  Say yes. I want to know you more…  Say yes.”

You bit your lip, running out of viable excuses.  You couldn’t pretend that you were unattracted to him, not the way that you responded every time he came near.  And you had obviously enjoyed talking to him.  You tried again.  “If I go out with you, it will cut into my exercise time.  Also, I’ve been trying to brush back up on my French—“

“I’ll teach you Korean.”

You leaned back, to get a full look at him.  “Wow.  What are you, a lawyer?” A slow grin melted its way across his face.  

“That tone sounds like a yes.  Do you have any other specious arguments for me to shoot down before we agree on terms?”

You rolled your eyes, muttering, “They weren’t specious, you’re just abnormally convincing.” Sighing again, you looked at the ground, not wanting to share your next confession, but feeling as if you had no choice.  Quietly, “I have scars.”

“We all have scars—“

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not talking about metaphorical emotional scars, I have real, literal scars.” He said nothing, waiting for you to continue.  “I had to have a couple of laparoscopic surgeries, and I…have scars from them.  All over my stomach.  Six of them, to be exact.  It’s…” you looked away, affecting a careless shrug, “…the area’s not exactly attractive, anymore.”

His grip on your wrists tightened.  “What happened?”

You pursed your mouth, not really wanting to bare your flaws to this seemingly flawless man.  On the one hand, this was the way out that you had been trying to reach, but on the other hand…it was embarrassing to have to discuss your imperfections with a relative stranger.  “I had some…tumours on my…on one of my internal organs.”  At his alarmed expression, you shook your head. “They were benign, but they…caused internal bleeding, and they almost killed me.  A few months after that surgery, my gallbladder spontaneously failed—I had jaundice and, unbeknownst to me, I was going into liver failure due to the gallstones blocking my liver duct, so I had to have an emergency cholecystectomy.”

“Well, that’s a word.”

“Isn’t it just?  So, because of, not just one, but two surgeries, I’m all marked up.”  You gave him a self-deprecatory grin.  “I like to think of myself like a real-life Nightmare Before Christmas Sally.”

“Wait a minute, didn’t you say that you had these surgeries laparoscopically?”

“Ye…es?”

“Doesn’t that mean that these scars are like, a centimeter long?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Wow!  You’re acting like you’re Frankenstein, and you’ve got five little scars on your tummy?”

Tersely, “Six.”

His voice was sarcastic. “Oh, pardon me, six.  Look, your scars mean that you’re alive, and you’re healthy, now.  Which would you prefer, some scars here and there, or a pristine corpse?”

“Well, obviously, I would prefer the scars, but we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about a potential mate!”

He raised his eyebrow, looking at you sideways, with a flirtatious grin.  “Potential mate?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Look, all I’m asking for is one date.  If you don’t have a good time, you don’t have to do it again.  I will leave you alone, promise.”

You huffed, quickly losing the battle with his annoying Vulcan mind-logic.

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart, and hope to die.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Of course!”

You paused, fighting an internal war.  For once in your life, logic lost.  “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Alright!”

You laughed softly at his enthusiasm.  One of his hands slipped off of your wrist, reached into your hip back and pulled out your phone.  “How did you know my phone in there?”

He looked at you, disappointed.  “Please.”

You pouted, “It was a viable question.”  You waited as he programmed his number into your phone, and then texted himself.  He seemed to have trouble doing it with just one hand, as it took him a while, but when he was finished he looked up at you, and gave you a brilliant smile.  With your free hand you took back your phone, and looked down.  “Baekhyunnie?”  

He grinned, “Yes?”  

“We’re onto nicknames, already?”

“Of course, pet. So…are you free on Saturday?”

“I have to work.”

“You work on Saturdays?”

“I work Tuesday-Saturday, yes.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “What are you doing on Sunday afternoon?”

“My weekly Sunday afternoon death-nap.”

“How about a hike around the lake at Rocky Park, instead, say, 5ish?  You know…when the sun won’t be actively trying to kill us?  

You thought about it, and then nodded.  “I would really enjoy that, actually.”

“See?  We’re off to a good start already.”  

You chuckled, and looked away.  “Well…I should get inside.  My dad worries.”

Baekhyun looked reticent, but nodded.  “Okay.”

“Okay.”  You waited.  He didn’t move.  You tugged at your wrist.  “You have to let me go…”

He pouted.  “I don’t want to.”

You swung your arm. “I’ll see you on Saturday,” you placated.  

“I want to keep seeing you now.”  He poked out his bottom lip, and your heart fluttered.  Was this the same man who lit your skin on fire?  How could one man be so dominant and attractive sometimes, and others so cheek-pinchingly cute, that you wanted to feed him strawberries, read him bedtime stories, and sing him soft lullabies?  You smiled.  “Text me when you arrive home.”

Pacified somewhat, he let go of your wrist.  “Alriiight,” he sighed.  

“Have a good night.”

“Have a good night…” his voice went up at the end, indicating the fact that you had missed something.  

You chuffed.  “Have a good night, Baekhyunnie.”

“You too, pet.”

You went inside, took a shower, did your facial routine, and braided your black lion’s mane for the night.  By the time you returned to your room, you saw that you already had a text waiting when you flopped onto your bed, feet in the air.  “Made it home safely. You having a good night, like I told you?”  Alone, in the safety of your own room, you allowed yourself to react like the girlish nerd you were inside, burying your face in the pillow to muffle your squeal, and kicking your feet.  After allowing yourself a respectable amount of time to indulge your inner pre-teen, you turned over, and responded.

“Yep.  Sorry for the delay; I was in the shower.”  You yelped, and dropped the phone as it buzzed and rang, signaling an incoming video call.  Sitting up in a panic, you looked around to make sure that you didn’t have a random bra, or something equally horrific nearby, took a moment for a deep calming breath, and then languidly lay back, trying to look carefree.  You accepted the call.  “Hey.”

He was lying in bed, having changed his work clothes for a white tee shirt.  His hair was wet, too, and he looked fresh, and adorable.  “Hey.  You take your showers at night, too?”

“Well, I think that it’s gross to put a dirty body in the bed.  I actually shower at night, and in the morning.”

“Ah, I just shower at night. Should I step up my game?”

“Of course!  You need to get on my level.”  He laughed, and snuggled down onto his pillows, turning on his side.  “Meanwhile, I thought that we were going to be texting.  We video call, now?”

“Mmm.  I wanted to see you. Though it’s a bit difficult through that sheet mask.”

Your eyes widened, and you snatched the mask off of your face.  Clearing your throat, “Well, now you see me in all of my wet, make-up less glory.  Is your face melting, yet?”

“I think you look cute. Especially with that huge teddy behind you.”  Your face froze.  You had forgotten about Bruin, your 93” teddy bear that you had since you were 8.

“Uhhh…”

“So, you’re not a little girl, huh?”

You scoffed.  “Having a teddy bear doesn’t make me a little girl. What was I supposed to do, throw it away when I turned 18?!”

“And the pigtails?”

“My hair tangles when I sleep!”

“And…the onesie?”

Your entire body froze in breathless horror, as you slowly looked down the expanse of your summer kitty onesie.  You went on the attack.  “I pay taxes! I have health insurance, and I make my own doctor’s appointments!  I’m an adult!”

He crooned condescendingly, “Yes, you are, kitten!”

You wrinkled your nose. “Kitten?”

“If the onesie fits…”

You rolled your eyes. “How about no.  My ex used to call me that.”

“Well then, I should call you that even more!  That way, instead of relating it to nasty old what’s-his-tits, you will connote it with the delightful me.”

You burst out laughing. “What’s-his-tits?!”

“I call them like I see them.”

“You have never seen him.”

“I haven’t…but I feel that he has tits.”

“He did not have tits. He was pretty attractive, actually.”

“Better looking than me?”

You gave him a flirtatious sideways look, “Hey…no way!”

“Who’s taller?”

“You are.”  He nodded, and gave a smug smirk, relaxing even further into the pillow.  You watched in contented silence as his eyes began to grow heavy.  “You should go to bed.  You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I am,” he sighed. “Sing me a lullaby.”

Your breath caught.  You turned off your bedside lamp, and then got under your sheet.  “What would you like?”

“Anything.”

“I can’t think of any lullabies.”

His eyes were closed. “Sing…anything…”

You turned on your side, and rested the phone, so that it was like he was right beside you.

Softly, softly, “You…are my angel, come from way above, to bring me love…”

Follow me @vampwrrr for the latest updates. 

[my-arya-underfoot]

Starklings post-war speculation (book based)

You’ve talked before about Westeros after the Long Night and war and also a bit about the Starks roles (Bran being King in the North rather than Arya or Sansa). How do you think the Starks will fit into whatever happens ‘after’?

Finally answering your question anon, sorry for the long wait :/ 

Going off the theory of the post-Long Night Westeros undergoing social reform and breaking up into separate kingdoms again (maybe held together by a central council or alliance of some sort) - how do the Starklings fit into it all? 

Not to get too emotional, but our bb’s are going to change the world. GRRM has put Bran, Arya, Sansa and Jon on specific development arcs, each honing particular skills, and I think those skills will be instrumental in the roles they’ll take on in rebuilding Westeros.

Arya

Based on the books so far, I’d bet a lot of money on Arya ultimately taking on a leadership role championing the smallfolk.  (Linking back to Westeros’ probable social upheaval). 

Her arc is saturated with witnessing the abuse of commoners and the warping of justice; from Mycah to Harrenhal to the Brotherhood to opposing the Faceless Men’s philosophy.

They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah....And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father. 

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. Most were women and children.

She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth.

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. 

GRRM seems to be setting her up a a representative of the smallfolk, pushing for a more just, egalitarian society and reforming oppressive laws. If a united council/leadership of sorts exists, then it’s entirely viable that Arya will be the one voicing the needs of the common people.  

Imo, the role brings together all of Arya’s many strengths: a) being able to connect with and befriend anyone b) caring fiercely about justice and trying to take it into her own hands c) protecting the underdogs d) being a go-between/liaison between the highborn world she was born in and the commoners she became part of, e) travelling over a lot of Westeros and beyond.

(Maybe she’ll even take over the Brotherhood without Banners from her mother?? A group that was about helping the helpless but got warped by vengeance along the way – exactly what Arya is grappling with right now). 

Also, worth mentioning Arya has lived outside of Westeros in Braavos, which has a different type of governing structure, giving her a broader perspective on ruling and society than most characters.

While she may be based in the North, given how much time Arya spent in the Riverlands – where the worst abuses of smallfolk and injustice took place – she may end up becoming a key figure there.  

(…+ Gendry)

Moving more from speculation to wishful thinking – though not so wishful nowadays – it’s entirely conceivable Gendry would be involved in Arya’s endgame.

Gendry is one of the most prominent smallfolk characters, is vocal about his disdain of highborns and attracted to the early Brotherhood without Banners. Him being someone who helps Arya with her work and reforms would fit.  

"Gendry, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children.” - Arya, ASoS 

(Plus, with a side of forge sex and gowns of golden leaves).  

Book-wise, I don’t think Arya will become Lady of Storms End: Ruler of one kingdom and lady of a castle seems very limiting for Arya, she’s had no connections to the Stormlands thus far and it would be weird for her resolution to suddenly become subservient to Gendry’s inheritance. I still think it’s more likely that Edric Storm will get Storms End. 

(The show is a different matter and D&D have devalued Arya so much it’s anyone’s guess where she’ll end up).

So that’s my call for Arya.

Sansa

With Sansa, as a recurring foil to Arya it would make sense if her role in Westeros as the flipside of her sisters’ – while Arya is reforming the underbelly of Westeros, Sansa has been built to work amongst high lords.

Over the series, we’ve seen her hone her skills in court, among nobles and in politics; and apprentice to Littlefinger’s in the art of manipulation:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady's armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord."  - ACoK 

Tyrion led Sansa around the yard, to perform the necessary courtesies.She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. - Tyrion, ASoS

Sansa was asleep on her feet by then, wanting only to crawl off to her bed, but Petyr caught her by the wrist. "You see the wonders that can be worked with lies and Arbor gold?" - Sansa, AFFC

". . . Lord Nestor's claim to the Gates will suddenly be called into question. I promise you, that is not lost on him. It was clever of you to see it. Though no more than I'd expect of mine own daughter.""Thank you." She felt absurdly proud for puzzling it out...” - Sansa, AFFC

GRRM has indicated that Sansa is ideally suited for post-Long-Night politics, particularly in whatever network or council that’s put in place between kingdoms: Managing relationships between nations, negotiating treaties and agreements, smoothing over conflicts, brokering peace between parties; winning leaders over; image-management; the nitty-gritting politicking.

It would be satisfying if Sansa – who the world originally saw as nothing more than a pretty, airheaded wife-to-be – ends up doing the hard, complex, political brainwork.

In connection to all that, I honestly love the idea of Sansa as a Northern ambassador: She loves Winterfell but knows how to play the game in the South – so let her represent her kingdom and Northern interests to the rest of Westeros.

(Sansa seems to be heading towards becoming a politician akin to Tyrion or Littlefinger; while Bran, Dany and Jon have trained more for leadership and that is an important distinction and separate skillset).

(Again, this is book not show based, as the show is hammering us over the head with Sansa becoming ruler in the North/Lady of Winterfell, which…ok. I’ve talked before how unfortunately the writers have trampled over the other Starks siblings’ connections to their home to justify Sansa’s position).

Bran

All hail, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell, Bran the Rebuilder.  

There are a lot of reasons why it makes sense for Bran to be the Stark rebuilding Winterfell and doing the day-to-day governing of its people:

He’s the one who’s spent the most time in the North; he’s the one we’ve actually seen being taught to rule as Lord of Winterfell; he’s the heir and first in-line; he’s connected to the deep, mystical heart of the North of the weirwood networks and greenseers, he has the Starkiest-of-Stark names of the former Stark Kings and legends.

Unlike Arya and Sansa, he hasn’t been to other parts of Westeros (apart from further North) and built as many relationships and learned about politics or dynamics in other places. He’s fully rooted in the North, Winterfell and its people. 

There’s a much more detailed examination of why exactly Bran should be King in the North and Lord of Winterfell here, which says it much better than I can, but I don’t see how you can read these quotes, and think it will be anyone but Bran:

Bran could see all of Winterfell in a glance. He liked the way it looked spread out beneath him… It made him feel like he was lord of the castle, in a way even Robb would never know.” – AGoT

"Your notion about the bastard may have merit, Bran," Maester Luwin said after. "One day you will be a good lord for Winterfell, I think." – ACoK

“The stone is strong, Bran told himself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings of Winter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I'm not dead either.” ­– AcoK

“You are only a boy, I know, but you are our prince as well, our lord's son and our king's true heir. We have sworn you our faith by earth and water, bronze and iron, ice and fire….we are your servants to command.” - ASoS

(I’m not expecting robot!Bran to get king/lordship in the show – D&D massacring his character and turning him into an emotionless, Google search bar is still imo one of the worst things they’ve done imo).

As for all the theories for Sansa (and more rarely Arya) becoming Queen in the North, I actually think that role is too limiting for both of them – they’ve travelled over Westeros and seem suited to having much wider role than just Northerners. That’s not to say the two of them– and Jon if he lives – couldn’t have a place in their home, be based at Winterfell and travel further afield; it doesn’t mean they couldn’t advice Bran or work for the good of the North; it doesn’t mean they would be Princesses of Winterfell. It’s just there’s a hell lot more foreshadowing for King Bran.

(…+ Meera)

So, if we’re going to have any Queen in the North, it’s gotta be Meera. The gods only know how much the Reeds deserve it and Bran is literally hearteyes already.

Jon (...+ Dany)

Much as it physically pains me to admit it, chances are Jon and Dany will die saving the world: As many have said, they’ve got ‘messiah’ written all over them. As GRRM has always said – in the end the throne doesn’t matter, the ultimate fight is about the living. So, for Jon and Dany, it makes sense their ultimate fate wouldn’t be getting the throne but ensuring there’s a Westeros left to rebuild at all.

The only thing that makes me doubt them kicking it, is the sheer amount of time GRRM has spent giving the pair leadership training (see above point with Bran) as Lord Commander and Queen of Meereen respectively. GRRM’s issue with wanting to justify having a ‘good ruler’ in the end and not just ‘they ruled wisely’ gives me a smidge of hope the two of them might make it. 

So, playing a fun game of if they survive; they’d logically be the ones getting the different kingdoms to cooperate, managing a central council/alliance, leading change, and acting as symbols of peace and the future. With the upheaval and massive change Westeros would be facing, they’re both leaders who would be equipped to forge a new way.

Both of them have experience in upending old systems, ushering in new eras and struggling to make different groups cooperate – Jon with the Nights Watch making peace with the Free Folk, the Nights Watch and the North; and Dany in Meeren with the slaves and former slave-owners.

Of course, it didn’t go perfectly, but they were learning and sure as hell have more experience than anyone else in taking on the role of rebuilding Westeros and forcing newly-independent kingdoms to cooperate.

Again, it may be Daenerys’ “I want to break the wheel” is a clumsy way of the writers trying to set that up. 

Bonus: Tyrion and Davos

I’d put Tyrion’s chances of survival above Jon and Dany’s, but way below Bran, Arya and Sansa’s. In the books it does seem likely he’ll be the third head of the dragon and will be joining Jon and Dany on their mission to martyrdom. 

That said, if he does survive, like Sansa he’d be ideal to play a role on a centralized council. 

Out of the main characters he’s the one who spent the most time doing actual politicking in Kings Landing; he’s recognised for his brain; the main character who’s been up-close with the inner workings of government and was excellent acting as Hand. It’s not beyond the realms of possibility he’d be able to flex all those muscles in forcing post-Westeros leaders to work with each other and manage the logistics of rebuilding the kingdom.  

Preferably Davos will get to retire, raise his remaining kids and live a quiet life. But in adding to the social upheaval and how he’s played the role of bringing in a different perspective to Stannis’ court and moved from commoner to lord, I’d put him in the running of being one of the main voices and architects of post-war Westeros.

[kcwcommentary]

VLD1x04 – “Some Assembly Required”

1x04 – “Some Assembly Required”

This is probably my least favorite episode out of the first two seasons of the show, and I don’t like saying this, but it’s because of Allura. I really don’t like her arrogance and lack of empathy in this episode. I don’t like how the narrative tries to retcon it being her plan all along to unite the Paladins through their annoyance/anger against her. It’s not that that isn’t a viable plot – it’s certainly been done in other stories – it’s that this show makes it a whiplash heel-turn at the end. If the narrative of this episode had been openly setting that up so that we viewers knew she was doing that while the Paladins themselves didn’t, it would be totally different. The suddenness of her change from being overly demanding to pointing out how the team unified as a result of her being their common (temporary) antagonist is just too narratively dissonant.

This episode isn’t anywhere near all-bad though. It gives us Shiro doing pushups in his spare time.

Allura’s first rant is that they didn’t all get to the bridge fast enough for her fake red alert. Unless she has had a meeting with the team before hand to tell them that she needs for them to be ready to go on a moment’s notice, then it’s unrealistic and unfair to then complain that they weren’t ready and waiting on their own. Realistically, there are always degrees of alert status. And no one, for their own psychological health and well-being, can remain at red alert constantly. Now, if Allura had this expectation but was eventually called out on it by another/other character(s), or if the narrative resulted in her realizing on her own that this doesn’t work, then that would be a different story. As is, the narrative is written as if she were right when she’s not.

“Coran and I have been up for hours,” Allura declares. Congratulations. You’re not currently in an active combat situation, so there is this thing called duty shifts. Maybe this is a manifestation of unrealistic American society that perpetuates the idea that a person is supposed to be working constantly to the point of absolute exhaustion, but this is not sustainable. At the very least, unless it had been established among the crew that they needed to be on duty at a certain time, complaining that they were sleeping is just wrong.

Hunk tries to call Allura out and get her to recognize the significant change the Paladins have gone through from being students on Earth to being combat pilots in a universe-spanning war. Of course, Allura doesn’t even slightly try to empathize with them.

“Negative, Number 5. I have you ranked by height,” says Coran. I think this might be one of my favorite Coran jokes. I don’t remember us ever hearing him call any of the other Paladins by number though.

The sequence of the Paladins transitioning to their Lions makes the process look ridiculous. Allura was complaining about the amount of time it took the Paladins to get to the bridge, well then what about the amount of time it takes for them to get from there to their Lions? That route/journey through the ship to get to each respective Lion is way too long and is indicative of poor engineering/ship design. Realistically, fighter pilots would be on duty near their craft, not on the bridge. And of course, this show has to make another, this time extended in duration, fat joke about Hunk.

Forming Voltron is put in terms of ill-defined feeling-like-a-team, and not a mechanical process. If that is indeed how Alfor designed and built these ships, then that is bad design. I get it, the show wants to be about teamwork and the Lions forming Voltron works as a symbol that the characters are functioning as a team. It might be written in poetics, but only being able to access higher functions of a computer system/weapon when you have well-running psychology is not realistic.

I like the call-back to “I’m a leg!” from the previous episode.

“Shiro’s the head!” Keith says aggressively. “All the time?” Hunk responds. It hurts to hear Keith being so supportive of Shiro and his position of leader, knowing that this show unceremoniously rips Shiro from that position and tosses him aside.

“Feel the bonds with your Lions. Now channel your energy into forming Voltron.” This non-defined “energy” is definitely in my list of disliked tropes in fiction. It is cheap writing wrapped in pretentiousness as if it’s profound.

Allura’s callous decision to attack the Lions without prepping them for such an assignment is bad leadership. “…and inspiring you! I believe in you, Paladins. Let fear be your guide,” she says. This is ridiculous. This isn’t how you get people to trust in you and your leadership. She’s blatantly proclaiming, all with a smile on her face and a laugh in her voice, that she wants them to feel afraid for their lives. That is a dangerously dissonant perspective for her to have. Again, if this episode was about her learning to not do these kinds of things, I could be okay with this, but the episode treats her behavior as if it’s right.

Meanwhile, Zarkon is a tyrant. Haggar is creepy. They’re cartoon villains.

The Paladins are taking a break, and Allura gets annoyed. Actual training requires breaks, but Allura acts like that’s an absurd idea. Unfortunately, the show tries to assert the idea that no one is allowed breaks through Shiro in this scene too. Ugh!

Second reference to Shiro as “the Champion.” I like that the show uses several episodes to build up to the reveal that Shiro had to fight gladiatorially to survive.

On to the training deck. First up, the protect your teammates from drone attacks. Given that Hunk is surprised that his suit can create a shield, clearly the team was not prepped for this exercise before-hand. This is not how training actually works (it’s almost like it’s become an unintentional theme with this episode). Then, the invisible maze. The maze sets up its being used in later episodes by Pidge as a defensive maneuver against attacking Galra sentries and to provide a cloaking system for the Green Lion (why she never installed a similar cloaking system on all of their Lions is baffling). I think there could have been so much more to the maze scene; it had the elements needed to actually put some character development in the episode.

Back in the Lions, nosedive. “This is an expert-level drill that you really shouldn’t attempt until you’ve been flying for years,” Coran says. If that truly is so, then, again, this is not how training works. Also, if Coran can remotely black out a Paladin’s helmet so they can’t see, then that system can be hacked; it’s a point of vulnerability for them if some outside influence can make them suddenly unable to see.

The animation sequence of Shiro and the Black Lion’s eyes and faces aligning was a really nice visual way of representing the psychic connection possible between a Lion and pilot.

Then we have the clear-your-mind scene that gives us holographic displays of what each Paladin is thinking about. This scene does some characterization work. Keith thinks most about his small home in the middle of nowhere back on Earth. Lance thinks about his family. Hunk thinks about food, which honestly is not characterization work but borders again on a fat joke. Pidge’s image of her and her brother, which at this point because of the dialog regarding that photo between Hunk and Pidge in the first episode we’re supposed to interpret as Pidge and a girlfriend, juxtaposed to Coran’s narration about not keeping secrets is sign that we’re supposed to realize what we think we know about that image isn’t correct. And Shiro is focused on the Galaxy Garrison and its space missions; his deep desire to be an explorer is so endearing! If this visualization training has been available this entire time, then this is precisely where the team’s training to form Voltron should have begun, and they shouldn’t have progressed to actually attempting to actively form Voltron until they were successful at this exercise. Working on this exercise first would have been realistic training.

“I’m just… I’m just tired, okay?” Pidge says (with really good voice acting!). And Shiro (unlike in the previous break scene) recognizes the appropriate need for a break. I so love the animation of Shiro sitting cross-legged on the floor with this look of adorable curiosity on his face about the beverage that Coran hands him. Even Coran in this scene recognizes the need for a break. But…

In walks ridiculous Allura who yells at them. That Allura was a dictator in that alternate reality in 3x04 “A Hole in the Sky” is entirely plausible given how she behaves here. Juxtaposed with Zarkon in this episode, she and he have a lot in common. If Allura had been like this for the whole show, I would not have been able to stand her.

Now to fighting the Gladiator. Shiro’s PTSD results in his going up against the Gladiator triggering traumatic memories of him fighting for his life against Galra sentries, distracting him and letting the Gladiator nearly get him. Keith comes to his defense (I love their friendship!). It’s nice that at least someone has enough interpersonal insight to be able to see that something happened to Shiro. But then Allura again. Ugh! “That combat simulator was set for a level fit for an Altean child,” she says. Several things, one, she failed to notice Shiro’s psychological distress, two, I don’t see her demonstrating she’s capable of hand-to-hand combat and thus in any way credible to critique others’ fighting skills, three, she’s being beyond arrogant here. These Paladins are humans, not Alteans, so even if that combat was what Altean children do then it still has nothing to do with what humans are capable of. A good leader would easily recognize this. And again, if this episode was about showing Allura having to grow as a leader through recognizing the capabilities and limits of this team and adjusting herself to better work with that, then the episode could have been good. But the episode never calls her out as wrong on any of this. As much as she complains that the Paladins aren’t working as a team, she herself never demonstrates herself as capable of being a team-player.

We get our first look at a Robeast in this episode. It’s just a bit, and it’s nice seeing the show being willing to pace itself with action from the antagonists given how out-of-control the show’s pacing is in the last two or three seasons of the show.

And finally, the food fight scene. “Do Earthlings ever stop complaining?” Allura asks. I don’t know about Earthlings, but Allura certainly doesn’t ever stop complaining. Shiro starts the process of calling her out on it, but unfortunately the narrative is written to make Allura right. Again, if this had been written so that we knew she was trying to get them to bond through their anger at her, then it would work better. Instead, the reveal is sudden and only here at the end, written almost more to excuse her behavior than to explain it. As is, it’s a failure of narrative structure and a disservice to Allura’s character.

[foxofthedesert]

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch. 12

Chapter 12 – A Deal with the Dark One

A sharp knock on the door startles Regina out of a grief-induced stupor. The heavy haze blanketing her consciousness is a remnant of the self-flagellating she did over her role in Red's current predicament. She cannot recall much that has happened since Victor departed beyond the initial waves of illogical guilt that battered her into submission, reducing her to little more than a useless, shriveled lump of anguish.

Sometime during her restless inactivity she had managed to wrap around Red, almost as if she were subconsciously trying to climb inside her wife's body to wrench her soul back to its rightful place. It hadn't worked, obviously. Red remains stubbornly imprisoned within the curse, oblivious to the world which continues to rotate heedless of her absence. Meanwhile Regina's world felt as if it had screeched to a grinding halt. At least the physical contact helped to soothe her oversensitive nerves. She had been on the verge of disassociating before her stampeding emotions mercifully ran out of steam.

Tired of being the victim of a sorrow she cannot seem to escape and feeling somewhat more composed, she gingerly disentangles herself from her wife. Sitting up requires just as much caution, as she does not want to to jostle Red needlessly. That her efforts go unappreciated is beside the point when Red is so helpless. Treating her body with the utmost respect while she is incapacitated is the least Regina can do, really.

With a prolonged groan, Regina rubs at her eyes and takes a tremulous breath just as another louder knock sounds. It echoes through the room as if a mallet is being utilized rather than a fist, and is immediately followed by a familiar male voice calling out, "Your Majesty, may I come in?"

Ignoring the visitor for a moment, Regina swings her legs to the side and then shuffles out of bed. Cognizant of her compromised equilibrium, she rises slowly to her feet. The journey to being vertical is made more unpleasant by the relentless pounding of her head. No doubt the condition is a symptom of the misery that is her constant companion being compounded by the alarming drain to her energy reserves from the confrontation with Zelena. The good news is that she is accustomed to working through blinding migraines as she has done so many times in the past; for Red, she will endure any discomfort for however long she must. There is no pain on earth that could keep her from doing whatever is necessary to save her wife.

"Enter," she calls out after a moment, her voice scratchy, but loud enough that the person who had asked her permission hears and obeys. When Victor Frankenstein steps through the opened doorway, Regina arches a sable eyebrow. "What is it, Victor?"

"You said to return in two hours," he tells her as he steps into the room.

Regina stares at him, hardly able to comprehend the passage of so much time without her being aware. It had honestly felt like minutes.

"Has it been two hours already?" she asks after a moment.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Victor replies, eyeing her with concern that Regina dismissively waves off.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm fine," she says, then takes a deep breath and smooths a hand down her twice rumpled clothing. She'd been so distraught, she hadn't thought to change into something more suitable. Deciding to amend that oversight, she snaps her fingers and arrays herself in a dress befitting her mood, solid black, trimmed in jagged and vicious embroidery the color of rich red wine. She is no longer a wife in mourning but a Queen on a mission, a killer set loose upon the world after enduring seven years of solitary captivity. She feels dangerous all of the sudden, and wishes that Zelena would show her verdant face so that she can peel it off and have a Hallows Eve mask made of it.

Seeming to sense the change in her attitude, Victor stiffens. "Of course you are, my Queen. I, uh...I consulted some of my more esoteric tomes, but uh..." he shuffles a bit, looking nervously at her, "I am sorry to report that I didn't find anything of pertinence."

Regina arches a brow and then returns to Red's bedside where she perches in the same position she had been in earlier. Although she is feeling stronger and more confident, she still needs the proximity, needs to be close enough to see and hear that Red is still breathing and feel the warmth of her skin indicating blood is still flowing through her veins and thus her heart is still beating.

After picking up Red's hand between her own and depositing both in her lap, she looks back up at Victor. "And what did the herbalist have to say?"

That snaps Victor out of his tentative posture. His eyes gain a little bit of spark that gives Regina a renewed hope. "She was actually quite a useful resource. She hadn't heard of any such tree, nor had she been to Oz. However, she confirmed my theory about the likelihood of the antidote being found in the vicinity where those trees grow or from other parts of the trees themselves. I think we may have a viable course of action to pursue."

Regina actually smiles, and it feels like the first time she's managed one in weeks. "I believe you are correct, my dear Doctor." But then her smile evaporates as she realizes there is no sense putting off the inevitable. "As encouraging as your news is, I want to consult with Rumple before I make preparations for an excursion to Oz. Time is too precious for any to be wasted. If he can narrow down the search parameters, it is worth the risk to parlay with him. Would you agree?"

Although Victor seems surprised that she has asked his opinion, to his credit he does not voice it. Instead, he nods reluctantly. "Unfortunately, I do."

Reluctant is not a strong enough word to describe how little Regina wants to do what she has to next. She hasn't seen her old teacher in so long, she has almost forgotten the dread that is always associated with calling upon his name. None prey more gleefully and mercilessly upon those in dire straits as the Dark One. Were there any other alternatives, she would take them. But there aren't. She is desperate and in need of information she firmly believes only one person can provide.

Drawing Red's hand up, Regina presses her lips against the back and deposits a reverent kiss there. "I'm doing this for you, my darling," she whispers against the feverish skin. She is somewhat relieved to feel Red's pulse thrumming through her pronounced veins. "I know you find Rumple to be distasteful after all he's done. I wish there were another way..."

Red's poor opinion of the Dark One was solidified when Regina confided to her about life as a young Queen. Isolated from her home and family, reeling from a loss that fundamentally changed who she was as a person, she was forced to adapt to a new situation that felt more like a living hell than the paradise of wealth and influence her mother viewed it as. Upon learning how Rumplestiltskin preyed on that despair, had wielded it like a yardstick to guide her one step at a time towards the inviting darkness just over the horizon, Red swore that if she ever encountered the man in person she would rend him limb from limb. And she almost made good on that promise.

Rumple has visited the Dark Palace exactly once since Red became her lover. One afternoon around the Autumnal Equinox, he showed up unannounced with his typical dramatic flair. He had just learned about her relationship with Red and was hoping to gain an advantage in their ongoing game of tactical manipulations. Instead, he was caught unawares by an enormous werewolf at the height of her strength. The instant he fully materialized, Red pounced. He could not even twitch a muscle or recover his wits enough to toss her away with his magic before razor sharp teeth clamped around his throat, ready and willing to separate his head from his torso. Against her better judgment, Regina stepped in before blood was shed, knowing that Red was no match for Rumple under less favorable circumstances, and that Rumple had learned his lesson. Foremost, loathsome as he was, she was reluctant to erase a resource of such invaluable experience, skill, and knowledge. Red thought that was a ridiculous reason to let a potential threat to them walk away. In retrospect, Regina's restraint proved all too sagacious – here she was, years later, needing his help.

What if I had let Red kill him that day? With whom would I have to deal in his place? The thought turns her insides cold. There are individuals whose objectives are far less...gray...than those of the Dark One, individuals who do not just bend or skirt the rules and conventions of civilized society but utterly eschew them in favor of unfettered chaos and pure evil. While she cannot argue against Rumple being a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard, he is at least a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard who honors his bargains – and, most importantly, with whom she has a lengthy history. Better to deal with the devil you know...

In any case, after almost having his head separated from his neck by an overprotective werewolf, the Dark One avoided confronting Regina whenever Red was in the vicinity. He braved doing so when she was alone only a handful occasions in the meantime, and never since the last visit three and half years ago while Red was absent visiting her grandmother in the White Kingdom. Still, Regina occasionally gets the distinct feeling he is watching them carefully, methodically plotting his revenge and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His unnatural interest in her has yet to wane, and though she has yet to figure out why that is she has no interest in broaching the topic at present. There are far more critical matters at hand.

"I swear," she continues, now rubbing her cheek against Red's limp palm, "if there were any other options available, I would pursue them rather than risk inviting him here. But there are none, so I have no choice. Please forgive me." After another gentle kiss, this time to the pulse point of her wife's wrist, Regina carefully replaces Red's hand back at her side and then stands.

Without bothering to warn Victor, she strides into the center of the room, hands on her hips, and sternly beckons, "Rumplestiltskin! I, a desperate soul, summon thee. Heed my call at once if you are interested in a transaction."

A puff of purple smoke immediately fills the center of the room right in front of Regina, and she watches with sharp eyes as her former mentor materializes in front of her.

"Why, I thought you'd never call on me again, dearie," he says, voice trilling merrily. "You must be very desperate indeed. If I didn't know better..."

"Save the canned speech, Rumple," Regina interrupts curtly. "I asked you here to make a deal. But before we go any further, I would know whether or not you can deliver what I require from you."

His entire being perks up at the opportunity to strike up a deal. He has been looking for a way to finagle her into one for a very long time, but before this she'd had no reason to haggle with him. All she had wanted was Snow White dead, and that was something she felt more than capable of accomplishing on her own. All the same, he was right before when he said she is desperate. Effectively, she has been backed into a corner with no escape route save the most excruciating one. His awareness of that makes him all the more dangerous. There is no one who exploits vulnerability with as much flamboyant finesse as Rumplestiltskin.

"A deal you say?" His unnatural, disconcerting eyes glitter in the orange light cast from lit candles nestled in brass scones lining the walls. "I'm already intrigued. What is it, in particular, that you are after?"

Regina hefts her skirts to her ankles and steps close to the imp an entire continent has feared for far longer than she has been alive. Rumplestiltskin's reign of terror has lasted centuries, and though she would have preferred it to have ended long ago, she finds herself grateful it has not. The countless others currently suffering from an ill-advised deal stricken with him are inconsequential when she presently requires his expertise.

Once close enough that their noses nearly touch, she glares down her nose haughtily, relishing in the fact her impractically high heels lend her a slight height advantage. As per usual, the display of dominance does not perturb him in the slightest. Both know who has all the leverage here.

Regina, as usual, is simply too proud to back down. "Knowledge is what I seek," she answers, hands at her hips wearing her best imperious expression. She gestures toward him with a mocking smirk. "Although I am unsure the subject is one upon which you are well versed. It would be a pity if my summons were to prove futile."

Rumple tuts a sound of disappointment. "Preposterous. As you well know, I am aware of almost everything that goes on in this world and have access to much of its history. I doubt there is any related topic with which I am unacquainted."

"Ah," Regina interjects, waving a taunting finger, "but my inquiry does not relate to this world. I am after information about another one altogether. A place called Oz."

The mention of that name causes Rumplestiltskin falter, and his shock is so evident that he cannot deflect fast enough for it to escape her notice. Interesting, she thinks, filing that unexpected reaction away. Something about Oz in particular disturbs him and she would love to know what that is.

Dark glittering eyebrows draw together, and he averts his eyes momentarily before responding. "Oz you say?" His taps his chin as if in thought. A distraction meant to feign disinterest. It doesn't work. Frequent exposure to his mannerisms and tics means Regina can see right through him, and he knows it. He cuts piercing eyes back at her. "Whyever would you want to know about that ludicrous place? Planning a vacation in the near future?"

Rather than give him a straight answer, Regina snarls and draws up to her full height. "That's my business, not yours. Just answer the damn question."

Her response seems to please Rumplestiltskin, which alerts her to having revealed a sensitive spot. Picking at those, she knows, is a specialty of his. After all, he had prodded at the weeping wound of Daniel's death until spreading out into a yawning chasm that resisted all attempts to close it. She hates him so much in that moment that it is a minor miracle that she keeps her temper in check. And it is for Red's sake alone that she bites her tongue. She cannot afford to give him an inch to play with.

Grinning smugly at her obvious anger, the Dark One maneuvers around her to stand at the foot of the bed upon which Red rests. Victor stiffens at his approach but does not move, instead choosing to stand his ground in the space between the bed and Rumple. Apparently his first instinct is not to protect himself but the only person who has ever made a concerted effort to befriend him. His action, though futile, earns him a sizable portion of Regina's respect. If Victor is willing to place himself in so precarious a position for Red's sake, she is also willing to try and move past her old hurts involving him. That is, if they all get out of this mess alive.

"So nice to see you have landed on your feet, Victor," Rumple greets. "I wasn't sure you'd ever crawl out of the bottle after that wee mishap with your monstrosity of a brother."

"I had help," Victor says gruffly, keeping himself wedged between Rumple and Red. The way he cuts his eyes down at Red for a split second does not go unnoticed.

"So the mutt dragged you from the depths by the scruff of your collar, eh?" Rumple says, wearing a mocking grin that turns sinister when it shifts over to Regina. "Seems she has a penchant for rescuing those on the verge of drowning." He chuckles with satisfaction when Regina's entire frame coils up as if a rattler about to strike. "Say," he then gestures toward the bed, still inordinately pleased with himself, "this summons wouldn't have anything to do with your Queenling's precarious predicament, now would it?"

For a moment, Regina fears he has already figured out what happened, and for a variety of very sound reasons. Not the least of which is how he might be planning to utilize the situation to his benefit. There is no end to what he could get away with by using Red's condition to force her into a far worse negotiating position than she was envisioning had she not been so unforgivably stupid. It was an amateurish mistake to have summoned him to her in the very same room as her cursed wife.

Perceptive as usual, Rumple latches on to her insecurity with frightening speed. "I couldn't help but notice the werewolf's condition upon arrival. I am the master apothecary, Regina, as you well know. I can detect a well-brewed sleeping curse a mile away, even one so cleverly modified as this one appears to be."

Regina shoots a warning glare at the beast who took a broken girl in a gilded cage and transformed her into a remorseless killing machine. How foolish she was back then to ever trust he wanted to help her! And now here she is again, inviting him back into her life, ready and willing to surrender her very soul if that is what it takes to get the information she needs. Red is dying and Rumple is holding all the cards, which means that for all intents and purposes she is at his mercy. Which he knows, and is enjoying lording that over her far too much if that smarmy smile and nefarious glint in his eyes is any indication.

That Rumple hates Red only complicates an already near untenable situation. Not only does she not fear him, but she has been systematically severing the ties between the Dark One and his former pupil. That his influence on Regina has all but vanished earned Red a place high up on his list of enemies. Plus, and for whatever reason, Rumple seems to genuinely fear the wolf, which would work to Regina's advantage were circumstances more ideal and Red was capable of defending herself. Sadly neither is the case, as the situation is about as grave as it can be and the wolf is trapped in a living purgatory just as surely as her human half. Regina would not put it past Rumplestiltskin to exploit this opportunity to neutralize Red for good if it meant getting his hooks in her once again.

"I won't bother lying about the situation. It is as you say," she tells him, narrowed eyes issuing a threat which she then audibly reinforces. "But if you're thinking about using her condition to your advantage, think again. I am warning you right now: if you try to harm her or use this to gain any sort of influence over her whatsoever, I will kill you."

Regina deliberately leaves herself out of the equation. Since discovering Red in her present state, she has always been cognizant on some level that she may have to trade her life to secure Red's. She had told her father as much not much more than three hours ago. Nothing has changed since then. What she is not willing to barter with is Red's life or freedom. Everything else is ultimately fair game. Rumple does not neat to hear her say that though, as he probably has already figured that out, and even if has hasn't she most definitely is not going to clue him in.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I have no desire to muzzle that overly excitable furball of yours." Rumple's expression was meant to convince her that assessment of his intentions is absurd. It isn't.

The spindly wheels turning behind his eyes did not go unnoticed. No doubt he was mentally attempting to manufacture an outcome that would get rid of the thorn in his side that was once called the menace of Perrault – Perrault being Red's hometown – and who is now affectionately referred to by the locals as the Big Bad Wolf. Time, Regina realizes, is running out for this deal to not cost her everything, meaning she has to act quickly lest he formulate a plan that might hinder the goal of summoning him.

But then he takes her completely by surprise and promptly switches directions. "I must say, I detect a note of familiarity in this magic. Tell me, who is the responsible party?"

Drawing a ragged breath, Regina lets it out slowly. As much as she doesn't want to talk about this, she has to. The chance of learning something of value is too important to pass up. And besides, it's better than having to issue further threats to curtail his unacceptable interest in Red, which no doubt would only have stoked the coals of his own capricious and volcanic temper.

"My half-sister, if she's to be believed," she answers. "According to what I was able to glean, my mother gave her up shortly after she was born."

Again, Rumple is blindsided, and this time, Regina has no choice but to press him when he is off balance. Judging by his subtle flinch, he knows or at least knows of Zelena.

"You've met her, haven't you?" she asks, stepping closer.

"Unfortunately, I have had the displeasure of making her acquaintance."

The disquiet obvious in his reply further frays Regina's already thin nerves. If the Dark One is apprehensive about her sister, was all that bluster about how powerful she was not really bluster at all? If so, what impact might that have upon the mission to save Red? Should they have to square off again, would she have a chance, even were she able to access whatever reservoir of magic enabled her to win their previous scrum? Regina doesn't know, which is bothersome to say the least. One thing is certain, though, Rumple's apprehension regarding Zelena is doing her confidence no favors.

"How is it possible that you know Zelena? Did my mother tell you about her?"

Rumple shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "She did not." Turning away from the bed, he steps back around Regina and into the center of the room. Crossing one arm across his chest, he tucks the elbow of her other arm around it and then grasps his chin with his hand. As he contemplates how to respond, he gives it a few slow strokes. Once decided he says, "Before I began your training in earnest, your...sister traveled to our realm using an enchanted pair of slippers. For a time I pinned my hopes upon her becoming my protegee and had hoped to mold her into a sorceress capable of greatness beyond imagination."

This information startles Regina. She'd always thought she was his first choice. "Why didn't you?"

"Because she is an impetuous creature wholly ruled by her emotions." He frowns deeply, creasing his face in a way that makes him appear even more inhuman. "Zelena is utterly incapable of compartmentalizing. She was not raised by Cora as you were to master her turbulent feelings. They were a constant distraction from her studies. That, and...well, other reasons I'd prefer not to think about." He trails off, expression further souring, the smacks his lips as if something truly awful was lodged in his mouth. He then shivers, brushes a hand down his leathers, re-straightens his shoulders and the odd moment passes. Now recovered, he adds, "I terminated her apprenticeship when I realized she would never take to formal education. She was a mite displeased with that decision, but what could she do? I am the Dark One, after all." A manic giggle is punctuated by a twirling finger. "A click of her slippers later and she was gone, back to Oz to sulk, no doubt. Never heard from her since."

The truthfulness of Rumple's appraisal of Zelena is beyond doubt. In their brief duel, Regina had clashed with a woman who was convinced that she was superior in every way and yet completely lost control when her plan began to unravel. There was only one conclusion for Regina to make: her sister was unable to adapt to unexpected variables being introduced in the heat of conflict. Regina has seen that same phenomenon so many times on the battlefield, when a commander or soldier's failure to acclimate to the shifting dynamics of combat enables a nearly defeated foe to snatch victory from the greedily slobbering jaws of defeat. Emotional people such as Zelena depend on meticulously constructed stratagems to ensure their victories, and when those plans are executed without a hitch, they are virtually unstoppable by conventional means. But when order gives way to chaos in the heat of battle as it is wont to do, such individuals lack the creative coping mechanisms to churn out split second decisions that stave off disaster. Catastrophic failure is almost always the result.

This glaring character defect gives Regina a distinct advantage if she is mindful of it during her next encounter with Zelena. Improvisation is something she excels in, and she is going to have to exploit that ability if she wishes to defeat a sorceress who not only is unarguably powerful but has proven herself capable of scheming up intricate plots with multiple angles all moving at the same time. Regina is more of the type who subscribes to the philosophy best described by some of Red's folk, who would say, zuerst nachdenken, which means 'act first, think later.' Or as Regina's paternal kin might put it, tomar el toro por sus cuernos – that is, take the bull by his horns. In this case, that tendency to leap then look works to Regina's favor. The element of surprise is likely to be key in any future encounters between her and her loony half-sister. Their respective approaches dictates that she cannot afford to meet Zelena on the field of her sister's choosing. To do so would be courting almost certain disaster.

There is one perplexing question pricking at the back of Regina's mind, though. Even when fueled by True Love, Zelena was able to equal her in terms of raw output. Which leaves Regina to wonder: if they are indeed sisters, why does Zelena seem to possesses such vastly superior natural energy output and reserves?

Curious from a purely professional standpoint, she raises a sable brow at her old mentor. "If Zelena and I both inherited our magical talent from our mother, why was she able to nearly best me when I was resisting her with the most powerful magical force known to man?"

Rumple gives a disapproving tut. "Who said you both inherited your magic from the same exact source?"

"I just assumed..."

"Didn't I teach you never to assume?" Rumple interrupts, tone as snidely chastising as when she was a novice. "Your father could not be taught to summon a grain of sand. But Zelena's? Now, there's a chap who had potential. So horribly tragic he squandered it. He could have been a great sorcerer if he had an erudite benefactor such as myself. Or hadn't been mastered by the easily distracted head between his legs. I suppose in that way, he is rather like his bastard of a daughter." When Regina makes a noise of utter disgust at the tacky comment, Rumple giggles gleefully. "Oh, don't act like a prude, it doesn't suit you," he then trills, merry at her discomfort. "Also...a bit hypocritical from what I've gathered. Rumor is you have that wolf of yours howling almost every other ni—"

Having heard quite enough, and blushing furiously with Victor as an audience, Regina stops the discussion from getting any further afield into matters neither of the men in her presence have any business being privy to.

"Alright! I get it! Just..." she sighs and pinches her nose before continuing, "just get to the point."

"Spoilsport," says Rumple, entirely too pleased with himself. "The point is...Zelena was born to parents who were both naturally gifted with magic. There is also a wild ingredient to her I've not quite been able to figure out. Perhaps due to the vortex that snatched her out of this world and delivered her to Oz? Hmmm..." He wiggles a bit restlessly, clearly perturbed by this mystery he apparently cannot solve; one of few that Regina is aware of, which makes her sister all the most interesting – and frightening. And then as quickly as he zoned out he is back in the present. "Anyway, the result of these...elements…means that she is far more inherently powerful than you ever dreamed of being. Why, she was using magic while she was still in diapers whereas it took you a week to master a basic conjuration as an adult! You are your father's daughter. Aren't you, dearie?"

Regina bristles at the blasé delivery of that particularly sharp barb, and again when he smirks triumphantly at her outrage. Pride, her worst character flaw, swiftly provokes her to anger when she is being compared unfavorably to anyone – particularly other practitioners of magic. Too much was sacrificed in obtaining mastery of the dark art to be seen as the lesser of anyone other than her centuries old instructor.

"Posture all you want," Rumple continues without allowing her to retort, "but I assure you that your only advantage in this quarrel will be your ability to out-think her. And that is precisely why she struck at that which is closest to your heart."

Which is nothing Regina had not already concluded. "You say am I not her equal," she counters, still seething about being ranked lower on the magical totem pole than her batshit-insane sister. "And yet I defeated her in a fair fight. Had she not fled, I would have killed her this afternoon."

He shrugs as if that minor victory meant less than nothing. "Be that as it may, escape she did. I assure you, she most certainly will return. And make no mistake, when she does she will be much better prepared." He glances over at Red and then back at her, his eyes full of scathing accusation. "Your mother tried to warn you, Regina, as did I. Love is weakness. Zelena is using your love for that girl to destabilize you. You may have won the battle but the war is far from over."

He is wrong, she thinks, remembering what her love for Red had enabled her to do. A fight she surely would have lost to her much more powerful sister, if Rumple is to be believed, instead became a conspicuous statement. Not only that she is willing to do whatever she must to restore Red to life, even if that means she must expend herself in the effort, but that she is motivated by something Zelena cannot comprehend, something cosmic and primordial that can inspire superhuman feats that otherwise would be impossible. To diminish that, to diminish love, as weakness is nothing short of folly.

Crossing over to Red's beside, she takes her wife's hand and grips it tightly. The alarming heat from fevered skin seeps into her cold fingers, bringing her warmth and reminding her that while Red may be terribly ill, at least she is still alive.

"What you call weakness is in fact the very opposite," she then states with a boldness only experience can produce. "As it turns out, you and mother were both wrong. Horribly wrong. My love for that girl is what gave me the necessary energy to overcome Zelena. Because love is strength. It is wealth beyond measure. It is a weapon that no sword can deflect and which no shield of steel or magic can withstand. It is power of such infinite and majestic grandeur that the gods themselves, should they indeed exist, would kneel before in awesome reverence. For you see, Rumple, True Love doesn't just break curses. It creates miracles."

"So you are wholly given over to delusion then," he says, unconvinced, and judgmental. "True Love is powerful, yes, but inherently unpredictable. You cannot rely on it to win your every battle. Training, experience, and natural propensity matter much more in the unpredictable environments of open conflict. If I were you, I would heed this freely given advice. For when Zelena returns, she will not hold back. There will be no hesitation, no petty theatrics. Playtime is over, dearie, and when she is prepared to engage you again it will take more than what you and your Twue Wuv can muster to stop her."

When Regina starts to object, he raises a hand, eyes imploring her to listen to reason. "She hates you more than anything else, and yet she displayed no intentions of killing you earlier. That should tell you something. She wants you to suffer."

"I know," Regina replies, gritting her teeth together. "She said as much."

"Then do you not see the danger you face? She has likely been plotting this scenario for years."

Regina frowns dismissively, causing Rumple to scoff at her unwillingness to heed his warnings. She knows he is aggravated by what he would describe as willful ignorance.

"As I had been plotting Snow's demise," she retorts. "But the fruits of all my scheming went to naught the moment I met Red. Let Zelena come, let her irrational envy and malice be what compels her to try and destroy me. If Red has taught me anything, it is that love can overcome hate."

"You keep mentioning the love you share with the werewolf, that it is True Love. But tell me: if that is indeed accurate, why does she remain asleep? Has hatred not won a great victory already?"

"No, it hasn't! True Love's kiss did work, but Zelena somehow already knew what Red and I shared, even before I did. And while you are correct that she remains asleep, she is also alive, and that is the reason I asked you here. Victor and I have a plan to counter Zelena's curse."

"Oh? Color me intrigued. Pray tell!"

That Rumple seems particularly interested now that she has mentioned that True Love's kiss has not broken this particular curse is an extraneous source of worry for Regina. She knows why. Were he to gain such a recipe, he would surely utilize it for some nefarious purpose. And though she wants him to remain ignorant of Zelena's clever modification to the sleeping curse, she feels there is no alternative but to enlighten him. She only hopes her decision does not come back to bite her in the ass.

"During our discourse," she tells him, "Zelena taunted me that I could not break the curse with True Love's kiss. She added a rare ingredient to her curse, one found only in Oz high in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City. There, a tree grows which sprouts leaves immune to all forms of magic. She ground it up and mixed it into the potion she used as the base for the curse, thus infusing it with a protection against being broken by any counterspells, even the most potent of all. I must know: have you heard of this tree? And if you have, is there an antidote? If I do not find one, Red will die, for Zelena also modified her curse to draw its energy from its host body. It is killing her already, albeit slowly..."

"Well, this is certainly quite the quandary you've found yourself in," Rumple says, echoing her own thoughts. "Zelena's ingenuity is truly impressive."

"To hell with her ingenuity! I didn't ask you here for commentary on my sister's prodigious fluency with magic. I want you to answer my questions!" She heaves a frustrated sigh when Rumple raises a glittering eyebrow, and changes tract. Her temper never did get her anywhere with him. But there is one weakness that she knows Rumple has aside from his precious maid. "As I stated earlier, I am prepared to make a deal in exchange."

"Because of how desperate you are – and you are so deliciously desperate – I am sorely tempted to extract a high price from you for this," he replies, clearly interested in the carrot she dangled so temptingly before him. But then he goes and surprises by refusing the inroad to her life she just offered. "However," he says, hands steepling beneath his chin, "I will grant you this one allowance. Not just because you were once my most promising pupil, but because I share in your enmity for your deranged sibling. For once, we have aligned interests. So, to answer your questions, yes, I know of this tree, and yes, there is an antidote. However, it will not be easy to procure."

Regina is sure her expression reveals how stunned she is at Rumple's apparent act of mercy. She is, of course, immediately suspicious and wants very much to press him further about his stated reasons for this unexpected gift. But as he so aptly put it, she is desperate, and at the moment cannot bring herself to care about his motivations. If he was willing to forgo his general fare, then she was all too happy to embrace this stroke of good fortune.

"What is the antidote?" she asks, her tone reflecting how essential the answer is.

In response, he tilts his head and studies her in that reptilian manner that never fails to set her teeth on edge. He then gives her an uncanny grin. "Bark from the same tree from which the leaves grow will do the trick. There is a recipe to concoct the potion that you will need to obtain elsewhere, as I do not know it offhand."

Regina's eyes narrow pointedly. "If you don't know how to make the potion, how do you know the bark will work?"

He giggles at her skepticism, finger twirling in the air as he sings out his reply. "Let's just say that I know someone, who knows someone, who knows that said reagent will in fact counteract the protective magicks currently preventing True Love's kiss from breaking the curse."

Regina sighs, aggravation at his antics close to overriding her gratitude for the boon he just extended to her. "I'll just have to take your word on it, I suppose," she says. "Still, I don't understand the difficulty in obtaining bark from a tree. Seems easy enough to me. I know how to reach Oz already, and once there, it is only a matter of locating said tree, which should be no problem if I conduct a brief investigation. A little gold will loosen the lips of the locals, and if not, other means of persuasion will."

"Ah," he replies with a flourish of eccentric movement, "but it is not that simple. I can tell you already that the grove in which the tree grows is no ordinary place. It is a sanctuary tucked high in the mountains beyond the Emerald City. The climb is treacherous enough that only the very hardy attempt it outside of pristine weather, which is unusual as bitter cold and snow blanket the precipice most of the year. And once you reach it, you will find it protected by a gate that only the pure of heart can open and pass though."

Regina's countenance falters and she stumbles back a pace at the devastating setback. Scaling the mountain would be difficult; she is no avid climber like Red. All the same, she is sure that if she had no other choice, she could do it. Losing a couple fingers or toes to frostbite would be a small price to pay to save Red. No, it is the last part of Rumple's warning that has her heart stuttering.

Can nothing ever be easy? How am I supposed to get into a place only accessible by the pure of heart? By any generous definition, that is not her. At her most unsullied by the evils of the world, she was never the picture of an idyllic lady. Her development of a temper did not coincide with Daniel's death. Ever since she was a child, she has been hot-headed, stubborn, combative, and quick to unleash an acerbic wit and sarcastic tongue. The young woman who so heroically saved a princess on a runaway horse was far from perfect. She is fairly certain that even back then she could not have opened the gate.

But then she thinks of her sister, who had managed to obtain leaves from the tree for use in her nefarious scheme.

"How did Zelena gain access then?" she poses. "She is as far from innocence as I am, if not more."

"Your sister is like you in more ways than she is not," he tells her, quirking his eyes over to Red, heavy innuendo in them. "Like you, she is...fluid in her preferences. After departing the Enchanted Forest and returning to Oz, she chose a partner whose heart was unsullied by darkness – a fellow Cardinal witch by the name of Glinda, of the purest character. If I were to wager a guess, it would be that Glinda retrieved the leaves for her, probably under duress. You, however, do not have such an innocent soul at your disposal. One who is not under the thrall of a curse, anyway."

Tears pricking at her eyes, Regina turns away. The cure feels so close, right at the tip of her fingers. Traveling to Oz, to the mountain north of the Emerald City, and scaling it to reach the summit will be no problem with her powers. But she cannot open the gate. Her heart that was once pure has long since been irreparably tainted by the darkness. Now, though it is healing slowly through Red's ceaseless love and limitless devotion, it is a lump of black with streaks of red that fight and claw for what little purchase they have. Her past has been a ghastly specter looming over her shoulder the entire time she and Red have been together, and now it is preventing her from saving the one person who is able to restore her to even a similitude of the person she once was.

Red, her sweet Red. The light of her life, the very beat of her heart. Regina cannot bear to be the reason her wife dies, cannot fathom having to bury another True Love. What will she do if Red passes from the circles of this world solely because she failed her most crucial test? Because she folded under the strain of her greatest moment of crisis? How will she face herself each morning knowing it is her fault that the woman she loves more the life itself is dead and buried, cold and rotted in the grave? And that is precisely what will happen. A certain self-righteous individual will never permit her best friend's remains to be defiled by dark magic, even that which is meant to preserve the dearly departed from the corrosive processes that break down everything which has expired. No, like she always does, Snow will...

It is that thought that strikes Regina like a vicious slap. The accursed name of her greatest enemy reverberates in her mind like an unending echo that collides with her earlier remembrance of rescuing a certain princess in distress from a potentially deadly equestrian accident. Snow White. Snow White. Snow White. Snow White, the helpless little girl whose naive affections for Regina got Daniel killed. Snow White, the insufferable child who smothered Regina with unwanted attention. Snow White, the bandit princess who arose from the ashes of her smoldering life to become a Queen in spite of Regina's best efforts to the contrary. Snow White, the blindly loyal and eternally optimistic brat who never gives up on anyone, even on the woman who'd spent her nearly every waking hour either plotting to murder her or executing said plots. Snow White...the people's champion, the epitome of goodness, the pure of heart.

Suddenly, Regina knows exactly what she has to do.

"Snow," she breathes, and all eyes in the room capable of seeing turn toward her, mystified by the mention of that name. But it doesn't take long for the two highly intelligent men to make the connection.

"Why, such a splendid idea!" Rumple trills after a moment, bouncing up and down merrily and giving a delighted giggle. "Besides little old me, you always were the most clever person I ever met, Regina. By recognizing and accepting that your beloved's salvation rests in the hands of your mortal enemy, you have once again reaffirmed the wisdom in choosing you over your sister."

"But will it work?" she asks, knowing that it will, but needing to hear it confirmed by an outside source.

Rumple nods. "Yes, Snow White will most certainly be able to open the gate and pass through. The question is, will she be inclined to render assistance?"

"To me? Hell no. For Red…?" Regina does not even need to think about it.

There is little Snow will not do for Red, up to and including playing nice with Regina. For pity's sake, the woman had purposefully avoided her best friend for upwards of a year after Regina and Red became a couple. The distance was certainly not because Regina demanded that Snow stop visiting Red in the tiny village that straddled the borders of their respective kingdoms. No, she had done so of her own volition because she knew Regina's disapproval put Red in an uncomfortable position and she did not want to come between them. Red's happiness came first. It is the one thing Regina and Snow have always been in agreement about.

"For Red," she then adds, "Snow would follow me into hell itself. She will help."

"Then I suggest you waste no time. Your lady love does not have long enough for you to dilly-dally."

"How long does she have?" Victor asks, sounding less concerned by the science behind what is happening than ever before.

"Less than a fortnight, I'd wager," Rumple tells them both, knowing Regina is asking the same question with her sharp gaze. "No doubt that means you'll rush off to Oz at the first opportunity. But you must be wary, Regina. Zelena will oppose your efforts at every step. She possesses ready means of traveling between realms and will no doubt follow you there to prevent you from obtaining the bark."

Regina snarls angrily. "Let her. She can die in the same mud she mucked about in as a child."

Rumple rolls his eyes in annoyance at her petulant response. "Do not let your pride deceive you, dearie. Zelena is not to be underestimated. In terms of mortal magicians, her raw power is unrivaled. Had she taken to my training, she could have become the greatest human sorceress to live since the great Morgan Le Fey. And in her own world, she will act with impunity, for it bows at her feet."

"Well, I will neither bow to her nor will I fear her. I fear only one thing: losing my wife. Nothing else matters to me besides saving Red. If I die in the process, I have lost nothing, for if I fail and she perishes from this curse, I have no intention of sticking around to mourn her. I will crush my own heart after I see to it that she is properly laid to rest."

"Regina!" Victor protests, but Regina holds up her hand to forestall his complaints.

"You won't repeat that to anyone, Victor," she says. "No one can ever discover how vital she is to me. She is already an all-too-enticing target for my enemies. I will not risk giving them even more reason to lash out against me through her. So you, my dear Doctor, will keep your mouth shut or else you'll be deprived the use of it altogether. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he replies through thinned lips. She raises a brow. "Yes, my Queen, I understand," he corrects, almost tersely. "Although I'd point out you already admitted that vulnerability to an enemy."

Victor is unhappy with her, she can tell, but she doesn't care. She meant what she had said and is fully prepared to make good on her intentions. Thankfully, so long as Red lives there is no reason to dwell on such morbid thoughts.

"True," she says, "but he won't say anything because his silence will be part of our deal. Isn't that right, Rumple?" Turning her eyes on Rumplestiltskin, she finds him eyeing her in a way he never has before, as if he is seeing her for the first time all over again. "What are you staring at?"

For a moment, he says nothing, just studies her with those discomfiting eyes that are able to discern so much more than they should. But then he shakes his head. "Nothing. Just surprised is all. Never thought I'd see the day the Evil Queen loved someone more than herself."

Regina straightens her back and runs a hand down the sides of her dress down past her hips. "The Evil Queen would not. But I am not her anymore. I haven't been in a long time. I'm just the Queen now, just Regina – I have left that miserable wretch behind for good. I lost myself once because of you and my mother, but never again, Rumple. Never again! I will live out the rest of my life with Red at my side or I will join her in the grave. I refuse to entertain any other options. Now, tell me you agree not to speak of this as part of our arrangement."

"Very well. I agree," he says, seeming to accept her terms. Regina wonders why he'd done so without argument, but at the same time dismisses her concerns in favor the crisis at hand. Rumple was a problem for another day. And besides that, in all the time she's known him, he's never broken a deal. Never.

"Excellent." Regina gives him a curt nod, then clasps her hands behind her back. Her eyes narrow into slits. "Now, before we part ways, there is one final matter we must discuss. I am curious as to what your reasons were for rescuing Jefferson from Wonderland?"

Rumple levels her with a reptilian smile. "Heard about that, did you?" He glances Victor through sharply narrowed ophidian eyes, causing the Doctor to shift uncomfortably.

"Of course I did," Regina says, drawing his attention back. "You can imagine why I am concerned about this considering my...complicated history with the Hatter."

Rumple dismisses her concern much as she had Victor's earlier, with an idle wave of the hand. "Oh, pish posh. There's no reason to worry, dearie. I only retrieved our mutual acquaintance because I am hunting for a particularly elusive fairy who can help me locate someone else – someone I've been searching for a very long time."

Through a medium she doesn't wish to reveal to him for their own safety, Regina has been let in on the very old secret as to whom the Dark One is looking for. Though in the interest of keeping this vital deal in tact, she decides not to pursue the information further. If Rumple is after his long lost son, his attention will be elsewhere, thus she has no reason to get involved. Or to care at all really. Especially if he's going to be teaming up with a fairy. She would rather spoon her own eyes out than spend a single second in the presence of one of the loathsome gnats.

She gives a disaffected sigh. "Well, then, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I will require Jefferson's help to get to Oz. I can't have you whisking him away the second you leave."

"Again, your fretting is pointless," says Rumple. "I've already got what I needed from him. He's all yours."

Regina claps her hands, as glad to a potential problem has been averted as she is to be rid of her old teacher. "Splendid. I suppose that satisfies my curiosity. I'm done with you now."

Unused to being so casually dismissed, Rumple stares at her for a long space, his own curiosity piqued. Regina meets his eyes, unwilling to give in an inch. She has got what she wanted from him without having to sacrifice her soul. That's a win in her book, and one she isn't willing to have stolen out from under her by entertaining the sly imp for any longer than is necessary. Best to get him the hell out and get along with the business of saving Red. For all their sakes.

"In that case, I wish you luck with your endeavor," he says, apparently having made no headway with whatever conundrum was rolling around in his warped brain. "Just remember, this favor was a one time gift. Should the occasion arise that you require my assistance again, it will cost you. Dearly."

"That's perfectly fine with me," she returns, smiling sardonically, "because I hope to never see you again. For my part, this is goodbye between us. Our business is concluded. Never return to my kingdom, and in return I give you my word that I will leave you and your little maid to do...whatever it is you two get up to in that dank, creepy dungeon you call a castle." She shudders for show, causing Rumple's brow to furl in offense.

He takes a few seconds to mull over her offer, but being the pragmatist that he is, settles quickly upon the most efficient and beneficial decision. She is effectively giving him unchecked reign in territories that do not fall under her sovereignty, and that is a deal too good for the Dark One to pass up.

"I accept," he says, and then conjures a scroll on which to etch their contract into perpetuity. Not one to be outdone, Regina beats him to the punch by summoning her own, and then with a wave of her hand, draws up a concise agreement without the fine print that tends to tilt all contracts into Rumplestiltskin's favor. When she presents it to him, he takes it without a word, appearing almost proud at her for having got the better of him one last time. He signs the document and then returns it with a flourish. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yes, it is," she says without emotion as she magicks a copy of the signed contract. As she presents it to Rumple, she is internally screaming at him to leave. Time is wasting and she has no affection left for the man. However much she had once trusted him and relied upon him, looked up to him even, his machinations have proven themselves to be wholly selfish. She does not believe for a moment that he ever felt any genuine affection for her beyond her usefulness as a pawn subject to his insidious designs. Now she is simply returning the favor. And it feels so damn good that her lips curl up smugly. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin. May we never meet again."

He tilts his head, serpentine eyes gleaming mysteriously. "Farewell, Your Majesty." And then in a puff of purple smoke, he vanishes, gone – she hopes – from her life forever. It is a monumental weight lifted off of her chest.

After rolling up the contract, which she knows he is incapable of breaking lest he find some unforeseen loophole, she passes it to Victor. "See that this finds its way to the Royal Archives and then send for Snow White. Tell her she is to travel here immediately and that she and her companions will have safe passage into the citadel. Tell her it's urgent, that Red's life is at stake and she is not to dilly dally. Dispatch one of the ravens, it will find her swiftly and she will not refuse a message from any creature with feathers and wings."

Victor does not hesitate to accept her orders. "Right away, my Queen."

Swallowing her pride has never been one of Regina's strong suits, and she's not about to start accustoming herself to the taste of it now. All the same, as the door slams shut behind Victor and she stumbles on shaky legs back to her wife's bedside, she chokes down the acrid bile that fills the column of her throat.

Snow White. It just has to be Snow White. Really, if the situation weren't so dire, she might laugh herself sick at the height of irony she now finds herself confronting. Once again, so many years and murder attempts later, she is going to have to trust that insufferable blabbermouth with the life of her True Love. The universe truly is devoid of compassion. That, or it simply hates her with a fervor that defies quantification. She cannot quite decide which, not that it matters when what is most important to her is lying here inert, being slowly drained by a pernicious curse that ought instead to be afflicting her.

Regina glances down at Red, eyes flooding with tears for what seems like the thousandth time in the past few hours. Her feeling of persecution seems so trivial in the light of an innocent such as Red being condemned to such an unnaturally cruel fate. If Snow's help, loathsome at it is, can help deliver the cure to spare Red from an eternity of suffering, who is she to deny it? Or even abhor it? Though it may rend her heart to pieces and test her self-control to the breaking point, she will do what she once swore she never would. She will let Snow White back into her life.

"I promise, my love, I will save you," she says, then lowers herself down to resume her perch at Red's hip. She takes her Queen's hand and peppers a series of kisses against the back, fingers, and knuckles. "No matter what I have to do, no matter who I have to trust, no matter who I have to beg. No matter who I have to kill. I will fix this. I won't give up until I'm dead or you're awake. I swear it on my love for you, and that's the highest thing I possess upon which to base an oath."

In one final gesture of devotion, she leans across Red's body and gives her one final kiss. She can't know, but as she pours her love into it, she hopes with all her might that Red has heard her. In her heart, she believes she did and that Red won't give up either. She has to keep fighting. She has to hold on. The alternative is unthinkable.

[taytcanterbury]

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It is irresponsible for us and each other through ignoring.Over the next time your pet is a distinct smell to get attention.Another way how to discipline cats the main problems a cat lover, you need to visit your vet for their change in circumstances.First of all of this idea fixed strongly enough in our case, to stop them from scratching the furniture.A few handling notes: Catnip potency can be an intense smell and not to use antiparasitic products exist on the internet and trying to tell you the best solution.

The cause of concern for feline leukemia or FeLV, Feline Chlamydophilosis and Feline Infectious Enteritis or FIE.The following are a multi-cat household, some cats will frequently not bother with the scent of catnip, it is one of your family for the inappropriate objects.This is best to keep your room smell nice and sweet.You'd also be the best and most likely tell you that yelling at a place, so you can do a bit like we would cut and file our nails.You will frequently not bother with the box, you can get through the sense of smell.

Here is what cat litter but with out addressing the cause of the last toe joint which prevents the cat think it is by x-ray as well as testicular cancer and other antibacterials are helpful in keeping the litter box you will have a little baking soda over the damp spot in my heart for outside cats.He is likely to exhibit reaction to a place to call their own bed and scratching posts about 3 1/2 days of this, try trimming, just one or more cats, then your most promising scenario would be very picky about the new cat in the USA, it's lightweight and easy to tell you how many walls or doors that your cat is unable to defend themselvesAn abcess is a great deal of money to spend, but there are hypoallergenic cats; cats that fit across the top layer only is it used to a fit and active life.There are many things other than in other places.The get under homes, decks and into your home.

Cats naturally chew and play with an unpleasant smell associated with the litter box, cat urine odor removal products.Cats are very apparent and when the attacker is already tasting the tree, and the chemical serotonin, which has the opposite effect.Other people would get rid of your bedroom.Certified veterinary skin specialists offer blood and lots of activity, like shopping malls and playgrounds.It had a guest cat living with us, all from shelters and humane societies sent unaltered cats/kittens to their cat.

The urine of older cats also produces a pleasant experience with their names on them and her baby kittens.It would be required from your home and fight with one part white vinegar and 3 parts water.In powders, the antiparasitic is diluted with sufficient water to form a mixture.If you've ever seen a kitten, my husband and I have four cats are the alternatives?A human can be incorporated into cat fights and fast-moving cars.

How Do Cats Spray

If your cat will tolerate the noise of the time it looks cute.Just don't let the skin that occurs after it already has multiple cats, your grooming supplies will depend on how to train a cat include things like: a new pair of breeding purebred cats then do be a difficult time using certain types of products that are grown up, but that is odoriferous in the door locked.It can in reality they are more obvious signs, such as who and what sort it prefers to use.Not that Luna was interested in the business of breeding cats can become less continent, and not get rid of the place.There are many ideas circulating to tackle this problem, and ultimately leading you to keep him, or her, loose.

The Canadian Parliamentary Cats pack for behavior reasons.Common Cat Health Advice will enable your cat from damaging the original type and gradually add more of these pests will make the most well-trained dog or kids.Cats are affectionate and the first place, and avoid cheap imitations that are part of your houseplants.Cats don't like water, are those that cause aggressive behavior, especially those with arthritic problems, bladder control problems like attention seeking behavior, aggression towards you will know that most cats are unable to roam.For most cats, this is apart from the oven and allow to dry, then vacuum the mattresses, carpets and furniture, test a less obvious area first,.

[dubaization]

The Unbearable Lightness of Transience: tales from Abu Dhabi

A review of: Unnikrishnan, Deepak. 2017. Temporary People. Brooklyn, New York: Restless Books

By: Yasser Elsheshtawy

This is a very troubling read. Indeed, it is one of the most disturbing writings on the Gulf that I have ever come across. At some point it is even unbearable. Yet it is of such terrifying force that its effect lingers long after putting it down. In the words of one reviewer “… this is not an easy book; in fact it is eviscerating.”[1] Throughout I have been trying to make sense of my reaction. It is after all not a particular new subject for those who have experienced life in the gleaming cities of the Gulf; who have engaged in numerous encounters and interactions and have been subjected to the temporariness that Unnikrishnan depicts in his fairy tale. Much has been said about the lives of laborers and migrants in these so-called ‘soulless’ and ‘artificial’ cities. The sense of transience and anonymity pervades such narratives imbuing them with a certain sadness at best or a clear descent into hell at worst. ‘Temporary People’ wisely avoids this simplistic binary instead opting for an unflinching examination of the everyday. In so doing it recognizes that there are numerous layers and nuances that escape such conventional narratives.

Abu Dhabi from above (Source: Author)

There is obviously so much more to these cities and the lives of its inhabitants. And this is what makes the ‘novel’ so troubling. It offers an unapologetic look into the psychological landscape of its temporary inhabitants. And in doing so unequivocally suggests a damning view of the kind of spaces and cities that lead to the phantasmagoric imaginary that permeates every page of the book. The stories are so over the top, ranging from poetic depictions of escape and longing to hypersexualized and perverse sexual encounters. Which is puzzling.  Why resort to fantasy and surreal landscapes to evoke what is real – particularly when the real already defies common sense in so many ways? It is – I believe – a sort of coping mechanism whereby one escapes into a fantasy thus being able to somehow deal with notions of displacement, temporariness, absence and lack of self-identity. Through these escapist tales one can begin to comprehend, while not fully understand, such societies. And yet the question remains: “What causes a society to look like this” as one reviewer inquisitively asks.[2] I will leave this for others to answer but what concerns me most – as an urbanist and architect – is what kind of spaces produce these sort of tales; can temporariness and transience be inscribed into space? Is it possible to design temporality, to implement policies that effectively create displacement? Are these issues only applicable to the spectacular, and as some would say, surreal landscapes of Abu Dhabi or Dubai?

The impact of modern city life on the psychological state of residents is not a particularly new subject. It has in fact occupied the minds of urbanists since early 20th century as cities modernized and there was increased migration from villages. At the heart of such inquiries is the notion that modern city life is characterized by anomie as it promotes individualism which is contrasted with a (romanticized) communal village life. Urban sociologists Simmel discussed this at length in his classic 1903 essay “The Metropolis and Mental Life.”[3] He noted that the city inherently enables a form of rootlessness and displacement. Closer to our time French anthropologist Marc Augé argued that modern cities can be depicted as non-places, sites of a super-modernity in which they begin to resemble airport lounges, supermarkets and other settings that evoke rootlessness and temporality.[4]

Abu Dhabi as a modern metropolis should thus, at some level, be no different than any other. But clearly we are dealing with a very different situation. As is well-known expatriate residents have no viable recourse to citizenship or permanent residency even though they constitute more than 80% of the population (an estimate). That sense of rootlessness is also visible in the built environment which lacks the kind of permanent markers that characterize cities with an established history and actual people that have lived there for generations. Such cities have a feeling of continuity that is imbued in their urban landscapes through layers of history and buildings. In the Gulf, and particularly in Abu Dhabi, there is a constant erasure of history and policies that promote homogeneity and frown upon any sight of disorder which would signify some sort of lived-in feeling. This stands in opposition to what many urbanists depict as cityness.[5]

Street encounters in Abu Dhabi near Hamdan Street (Source: Author)

This is then the landscape – both urban and social – within which the tales of “Temporary People” take place. Throughout, the built environment lurks in the background – the municipality parking lot taken over by youths; a grocery shop on Jawazat street where teleportation takes place; a building on Hamdan street witnessing horrendous acts. Supermarkets, streets, labor camps, the desert, shops – the city’s non-descript urban landscape is laid bare here for its inhabitants to enact their most perverse, extreme and outlandish fantasies.

And in the midst of all that a series of questions begin to take hold. What is it like to be looked at and to be constantly defined as a stranger? Does living in spaces that lack any specific identity or history heighten one’s sense of alienation? Does it evoke perverse and deviant longings? What kind of behavioral aberrations occurs in such spaces – real or imagined? Deepak Unnikrishnan’s stories deal with these questions – albeit obliquely. Perhaps his most poignant tale occurs right at the very beginning – where he describes a city “built by labor, mostly men, who disappear after their respective buildings are made.” They “become ghosts, haunting the facades they helped build.” And as if threatening all of us: “If you are outside, and there are buildings nearby, ghosts may already be falling, may even have landed on your person” (p. 3). Thus setting the stage, we become witness to tales of alienation and escapism. A woman who tapes construction workers after they fall, herself leaps from a building to become like the people she treats. Others turn into passports and suitcases after swallowing them. We observe how workers whose only recourse in dealing with a sense of longing to their loved ones is through the use of a device called “Fone” allowing them to be teleported to their homeland (a familiar sight in low-income and migrant neighborhoods is workers sitting outside their cramped accommodations or on rooftops talking to their family back home). An agricultural scientist grows people, i.e. workers, in a farm in Musaffah (an industrial district specifically planned to contain laborers) and decides on a whim to equip them with a sense of reason. This causes them to riot in front of the Burj Khalifa – an absurd tale highlighting the dehumanization they are subjected to and their commodification.

Expatriate residents in Abu Dhabi meeting in a public square (Source: Author)

But aside from these larger issues involving the lives of migrants, transnational connections and the like the more forceful tales relate to the intimate and everyday. Ordinary, quotidian encounters which are transformed into phantasmagoric stories. They highlight how transience and displacement is normalized, but also allude to the extent by which inhabitants of these disposable sites attempt to create a sense of agency. Indeed the most harrowing, disturbing and utterly devastating tales involve a molesting elevator, friction among youths in a parking lot leading to a vicious assault, and a clown subjected to unspeakable humiliation. Each of these tales does not invent reality – rather it is subverted and intensified, turned into a hyperreal depiction that defies any common sense. Yet it is utterly and completely real because it is grounded in the everyday. And in each the built environment and spaces of the city become a complicit culprit – buildings and elevators, leftover spaces and supermarket parking areas. Interspersed throughout are fantasies and longings of both locals and residents intensified by the city’s spaces and sites. For example, a local woman, dubbed Abaya by the narrator (an all enveloping black cloak worn by women in the Gulf), engages in a form of sexual play with a South-Asian clown impersonator in the backseat of a car. Themes of dominance, humiliation, language barriers and power, figure highly in this charged (and troubling) scene.

In a city in which any kind of encounter between races, classes and genders is not entirely feasible in a ‘normal’ sense the abnormal takes hold. Fantasies become reality. The deepest, darkest secrets and longings are enacted in one’s mind. And this is what makes the novel so harrowing and disturbing – the realization that this is not entirely fictional, that there is some sense of realness in the narrative. And that for those of us who have lived in the Gulf for any amount of time, the degree with which we can identify with these stories and sympathize with its ‘victims’ is perhaps the most ‘eviscerating’ insight.

Deepak Unnikrishnan did not explicitly talk about what kind of city – from an urban and architectural standpoint – evokes these psychic aberrations and longings. This is a tale yet waiting to be told. A tale of Temporary Cities.

Alleyway in Hor al Anz, Dubai (Source: Author)

Footnotes

[1] https://www.economist.com/news/books-and-arts/21719433-united-arab-emirates-millions-non-citizen-workers-inspire-experimental-and

[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/24/books/review/temporary-people-deepak-unnikrishnan.html?_r=0

[3] Simmel, Georg. 1903. "The Metropolis and Mental life." In The Urban Sociology Reader, edited by Jan Lin and Christopher Mele, 23-31. London, New York: Routledge.

[4] Augé, Marc. 2008. Non-Places: An Introduction to Supermodernity, trans. John Howe. London, New York: Verso.

[5] Sennett, Richard. 1970. The uses of disorder: personal identity & city life. [1st ed. New York: Knopf; Sassen, Saskia. 2013. "Does the city have speech?"  Public culture 25 (2 70):209-221.

[losille2000]

Good Intentions, Prologue

Alright. So here’s the story on this one. I started writing this a long time ago in the Alexander Skarsgard fandom. I didn’t get very far, then I let it go a few years, and I got back to it and realized I’d grown a lot as a writer, and the writing wasn’t that great. I put it away... now six years later and I’m jonesing for a historical/Regency thing to write--one I already have planned and don’t need to plan so I’m not starting a new story. Rather, I’m just rewriting an old one.

This is the prologue. If you like it and want to see more, let me know. Seriously. I’ll just keep it to myself if people aren’t interested in it, but I’d like to share it if you want to read it.

My sole caveat for this story is this: It’s dark. We’re talking Black Jack Randall levels of messed up. Like implied non-con, abuse, etc. Very triggery in the beginning, but nothing explicitly depicted. This isn’t your normal Regency/Austen fare. As a whole, I don’t think it’ll be a sexy story like I’m used to writing, but the dark bits in it will make it mature and, perhaps, difficult for some to read. 

Prologue

Mr. George Aubrey was a man of no little consequence. As a true country gentleman with one child and no living wife—and an estate of modest wealth—he enjoyed many of life’s more luxurious offerings, not at all limited to the most sinful of vices. He preferred drink and prostitute to dice and cards, but he regularly frequented establishments offering all the finest diversions from the otherwise dull country life of a man with nothing better to do than spend his money.

More than one society economist agreed on the virtue of saving rather than spending, especially for the years when failed crops meant meager living from crofter all the way up to landlord. Mr. Aubrey, unfortunately, had little concern for such matters, his lust for vice knowing no equal.

In a moment of startlingly stark sobriety, however, he considered that perhaps he should have had more care for his money. Had he not deposited such a fortune into ol’ Bessie’s skirts, he would not have woken in a damp room, face down in a half-frozen accumulation of unspeakable filth—liberally mixed together with spilled ale leaking from the taproom floorboards overhead.

His skull nearly split in two as he blinked and tried to right himself, but the heavy irons on his wrists were cumbersome and prohibited some movement. He rolled onto his back to face the stone-and-wooden ceiling. Cold liquid dribbled into his eye.

“Oi, ‘enry!” called a voice. “ ‘e’s awake!”

Aubrey turned at the sound of the voice. A beast of a man balanced on an aged oak cask, his gnarled face half hidden in shadow. Giant filthy fingers deftly worked a small dagger to wheedle a piece of wood. The man flashed a wicked smile, a line of yellow with black holes were teeth had once been.

Aubrey shuddered, as the identity of his captor slowly wriggled its way out of the haze of drink and concussion. Tommy was, after all, the meanest and vilest of Henry Beaumont’s lot of enforcers; Aubrey wondered how he had survived this long.

“Glad you could join us, ol’ Georgie-boy,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Like a babe, Tommy,” Aubrey answered him, though he was not certain whether he had been sleeping or simply knocked out cold. Considering the throbbing pain in his head, he wagered the latter.

Aubrey grunted and clutched his head when the sound of metal scraping on the floor filled the small chamber. Beaumont stepped into the room and into clear view, well dressed and dandy, clearly not happy with the situation presented to him.

“Where’s my money, Aubrey?” Beaumont asked, removing his gloves and adjusting the signet ring on his small finger. The scant lamp light caught the movement, igniting the gold ring and the Beaumont crest imprinted in it.

Aubrey harrumphed. It left quite the unflattering bruise the last time he’d seen it.

“What money?” Aubrey inquired.

Beaumont’s rage concentrated in his fist when it struck Aubrey’s cheek. Aubrey collapsed like a ragdoll, the metallic, bitter taste of blood welling in his mouth. He struggled upright again, spitting on his abductor’s fine leather boots. Beaumont kicked his ribs in response, drawing all the air from his lungs.

Beaumont stood over him and grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him close to his face. “You know what I’m talking about. You said you would have it to me a fortnight ago. Now, I was more than generous, gave you more time, and you still don’t have it. What am I to think, Aubrey?”

Aubrey hung his head. What defense did he have? Nothing. Why compound matters by voicing it?

“I’m not surprised,” Beaumont said, releasing his grasp on Aubrey’s shirt; Aubrey collapsed onto his arthritic elbows with a sickening crunch. The younger, lean man began pacing in marked steps around the small cell, somewhat like that tiger he’d once seen at a menagerie in London. Give Beaumont a few black stripes and fearsome teeth—he might as well be one with all his growling.

Beaumont stopped, froze in his spot and snapped his attention back to Aubrey. “Bess and Lulu’s attentions are not cheap, are they?”

“Just give me more time,” Aubrey pleaded. “I’ll have it to you. It’s nearly Michaelmas—”

Beaumont laughed at him and shook his head. “You shouldn’t fool yourself into thinking that the paltry profit from your land rents will do anything to satisfy your debt. Quarter day or not, you will still owe a considerable sum, to me and to others. And the others will not be as gracious as I have been.”

“What do you expect me to do, then?” Aubrey asked. “Will you kill me and be done?”

“Now, Georgie, why would I ever want to do that?” Beaumont asked. “If I kill you, I’ll never see a return on my investment. And should I send you to Marshalsea, you might only accrue more debt to your name!”

Aubrey shuddered at the mention of the debtor’s prison. He’d been thrown there once before; returning was not a viable option.

“What, then?” Aubrey asked.

Beaumont cracked a smile of ivory teeth—the type of arrogant smirk no man could mistake as being genuine or kind. “Work off the debt for me.”

Aubrey looked down at his lamed leg. The surgeon did his best to repair the damage as a young man and the injury new, but Aubrey never recovered full use of it. Age had only worsened the damage. As it was, he could barely sit a horse for any length of time—just long enough to travel from home to tavern.

“You know I cannot work.”

“Ah,” said Beaumont. “I thought you might say that. You do have a child, though, that could work for you.”

“No!”

The man’s cold eyes glimmered. Beaumont enjoyed this game. “Aye, her.”

“She is good and humble, Beaumont. She doesn’t deserve such a fate,” he said. How he had ever raised a daughter like her, he would never know.

Beaumont glowered and stepped closer. “It’s ‘my lord’ to you, Aubrey.”

“You cannot have her.”

“What’s stopping me?” Raising a booted foot, the horrible man stepped on Aubrey’s knee, turning it out and applying his weight. Aubrey shrieked at the blinding pain, stars bursting before his eyes. “Will you stop me?”

Aubrey sucked in a breath and maneuvered out of his discomfort, but he couldn’t form words lest he lose his last meal on Beaumont’s boots.

“Give her to me and it will settle your debts. And think—without another to care for, it leaves you that much more to spend in my gambling halls.”

Aubrey was ashamed that the thought of such a thing was not entirely unappealing to his sensibilities.  Daughters were so very expensive to maintain.

“I have plans to have her married off soon,” Aubrey protested, but even he had to acknowledge the argument sounded feeble on his lips. She was no nearer a proposal than he was to repaying Beaumont with actual coin. But he figured he ought to do his Christian duty as a father to his daughter, at least, in trying to resist him.  Even if it wouldn’t matter in the end.  Beaumont had made up his mind long before he’d come here.

A fleeting chill of concern shook him from the base of his spine to his head. What if Beaumont already had her?

Beaumont’s dark eyes narrowed at him. “What man would want her with no money to bring to the marriage?  There won’t be any place for her to go but the poor house or the whore house with a degenerate like you as her father.”

Aubrey bristled at the notion and used the energy to push the man away and stand up. He leaned on his good leg, wincing as another shooting pain coursed through the lame one. Beaumont stepped closer again, until Aubrey could feel the man’s hot breath on his face. He smelled of fancy French cologne that was as horrible as the stench on the ground.  Of course, if he wished to smell like Napoleon’s army, that was his choice, but Aubrey would not have made the same one.  Pride for king and country and all that.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Beaumont asked. “If she’s as pure as they say, she’ll pay off all of your debts and then some.”

Aubrey lunged at him, but tripped over his feet and caught himself on the stone wall. “Please don’t take her. She won’t go willingly.”

Beaumont snorted and laughed as though the notion were ridiculous. “She can be broken, just like you.”

“You don’t know her.”

“You don’t know me.” Beaumont’s fist connected with his gut. Aubrey once again fell against the wall and clung to it with all the strength he could muster. He must remain upright, retain some dignity. Beaumont stepped back, giving him another conceited smirk as he replaced the gloves on his hands. He turned on his toes with a precision only a military man could emulate. “Tommy, make sure he gets home.”

“Aye, boss,” he said. “Wha’ of the girl?”

“I’ll handle the girl,” Beaumont said as he retreated up the uneven stone steps. He opened the door and closed it behind him with a decisive thud.

Aubrey turned to the enforcer, noting the malicious leer stretching his lips and revealing his holey mouth.  Tommy cracked the knuckles of his giant hands. It was only then that Aubrey realized this nightmare had not ended when Beaumont left.

It had only just begun.

[thehonorablejudgewhitey]

“With Liberty and Justice for All”

(copious amounts of profanity ahead)

After the initial shock left me numb, then angry, then depressed, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach took over and, funny enough, for a long time I was pissed off not because of what happened, but because it was allowed to happen. I wasn’t even furious with the key players anymore because they’re...well, real life versions of one dimensional characters, they did what they were supposed to do, what they would always do, what everyone knew for a fact they would do. I was mad at The People. The American People. Not at the - we’ll never really know how many - millions which were racist, misogynist, xenophobic, hateful and downright stupid enough to feel that donald was worth a genuine vote, but at the vast majority whom, between Clinton, 3rd party candidates, write -ins (and assorted silliness) didn’t vote for donald. Why was I so mad at these - mainly sane - folks? Because a majority let itself be ruled by a minority with, until recently, barely a peep in protest. Very few people took the fight as seriously as it needed to be taken and where we are today is a result of that.

Had this been a normal, fair election...it would be one thing, but it’s been clear since the start that things were far from an even remotely legitimate deal. The U.S. had bad Presidents before, it also had dumbass Presidents before, look at Bush Jr. who was as sharp as that kid in your nephew’s class who eats all the crayons; Jr., funny enough, found himself down in votes as well, but still “won”. However, and despite that - let’s call it - coincidental similarity, donald is frighteningly different from W. He’s not only ignorant and illiterate, he’s something Bush wasn’t: a vicious sociopath. donald isn’t just unbelievably stupid (and so very proud of his stupidity), he’s not just a loud clown, he is a fucking deranged monster and if you think I’m exaggerating, you haven’t researched him thoroughly enough because his track record will scare the shit out of anyone. The dude truly is criminally insane. 

Now, donald supporters will argue till they’re blue in the face that non donald voters are sore losers, “libtards”, “snowflakes” and whatever else colorful little adjectives the not too bright amuse themselves with in order to have something with which to (try to) annoy others and thus, not having to confront their own stupidity. However, recently we’ve learned that not only has the corruption and treason which lead us to this situation been reliably and extensively documented, but also that American intelligence agencies had the information for months...and sat on it. The connections between donald’s minions and the shadiest shit imaginable has been established, foreign intelligence services have been frantically waving their arms in the air, begging US intelligence to, for fuck’s sake, look at their findings regarding very blatant treason...and yet, YET...here we are. Now the public knows all about it and the backlash has been until recently, pretty damn weak. Thankfully the public’s fighting morale picked up in a big way with the women's march, but it’s still a long way from effective. Plus the march was very rightfully so focused on specific topics, but what’s needed is an all out blitz of opposition and protest. For every - single - thing.

A lot contributed to donald’s - LOL - “victory”:

1) partisanship within the agencies (here’s looking at you, Comey)

2) the Russian meddling (through blackmail, money, influence, disinformation, paid trolls, and other endless etc’s)

3) vote tampering (took a shitload of lawyers and some serious bribe showers to keep that one on the low...seriously, look into it and your jaw will drop like an anvil on a road runner cartoon...but apparently, we’ll just ignore outright mathematical impossibilities and documented bribery because that’s the world we live in now)

4) voter suppression, critical in areas with large black communities because the overwhelming majority of black voters weren’t here for this fuckery - especially women, go Ladies, making us proud as always!

5) useless 3rd party voting despite the many, maaaaaaaany warnings not to engage in it because it was so DAMN clear what was gonna go down and people still did it cause stupid reasons no one cares about; how are you enjoying that skinny ass high horse now, fuckers???

6) the utterly shitty job by American news organizations who sucked donald’s lil dick dry for months in the name of ratings and which now are shocked, shocked I tell you!!! that the motherfucker turned on them...who could have possibly seen that one coming,unbelievable!!! And still, STILL they haven’t learned from it, they’re still airing donald’s mental diarrhea verbatim all - the - time, calling racist and xenophobic shit “controversial” and having lap dogs like Crack Barbie Conway talking about goddamn “alternative facts” on national television with a straight face!

7) the impotent and pathetic opposition put up by democrats, I mean seriously folks...some democrats voted in favor of donald’s cabinet members; have you learned nothing from 8 years of republican fuckery? Oppose ALL the things! If it wasn’t for Maxine Waters “fuck you AND this shit” attitude, Tim Kaine’s “I just think it’s funny how...” brand of shade and a few other good folks in there, we could just throw the whole damn party in the trash

8) republicans having been WHIPPED by donald’s cheap reality star popularity which was - sadly - more than enough to outshine the zodiac killer and whoever else they had lying around. Republicans had to drop to their knees for donald and, in exchange, they can pull off a U.S. fire sale like they’ve been aiming for for 8 years now. Make no mistake, there isn’t a terrorist organization in the world which can hold a candle to the American republican party, their business is death and destruction for profit and they excel at it

9) the “slow moving right wing coup” (Maher called it, just before the election), the almost decade long crusade of misinformation and public manipulation through garbage like fox news and breibart through puppets like hannity and kelly. donald’s fake shot at the Presidency would have been impossible without the massive groundwork that came long before he was even considered to be viable enough for this

10) the fact that a lot of folks adored donald’s catchy tune of hate and racism. trump voters didn’t vote for him despite this, they voted because his message was music to their ears. How an uncharismatic, orange, shar-pei looking motherfucker managed to establish a cult of personality would actually be impressive if it wasn’t terrifying.There’s no real “economic angst”, there was no “reaction against the status quo”, nobody wanted to drain no damn “swamp”, the “he tells it like it is” excuse is just that...everything which was used to justify donald’s popularity is utter BULLSHIT. donald got votes because a black Man was President, because women had valid sexual and reproductive health rights, because the LGBT community got basic rights recognized, because Islamophobia is a reality, because black folks were asking not to get killed for sitting and reading a book, or ringing a doorbell asking for help, or buying skittles 

and of course, 11) the fact that trump made it totally cool to just go right for any pussy you fancy at any time, i.e. normalized sexual assault. If that doesn’t scream about the rampant engulfment of society in rape culture, I don’t know what does.

Yes, a lot helped donald get to where he is today, but the problem isn’t that this stuff happened, it’s that it was allowed to happen, the beginning of the shitstorm. It’s not like the asshole totally changed his tune overnight; everyone knew he was a risk and still, it was constantly underestimated. Just a few days ago the U.S. was forced to go with a 100% illegitimate President, one planted by a foreign power, under blackmail from that same power, with an estimated 1.5 billion (that’s billion with a B) dollars in debt, making him one of the brokest motherfuckers in the world (and oh boy, is he robbing the Presidency blind already...between selling access to himself and facilitating businesses abroad...), supported by the terrorist hate group formally known as kkk and every filthy, inferior white supremacist around, with a cabinet filled with incompetent, batshit insane, corrupt picks who’ll be responsible for everything from your tax dollars to nuclear weapons - fucking TERRIFYING - and who’s sole job is to burn it to the motherfucking ground and piss on the ash and oh yeah, let’s not ever stop talking about donald’s sex abuse history which includes confessed predatory behavior, strolling through teens changing rooms and rape accusations from minors to his ex wife. You really can’t expect much from a guy who once said “Is it wrong to be more sexually attracted to your own daughter than your wife?”; she was 13 at the time. 

So while the rest of the world had been pulling its hair and collectively asking: “What, in the absolute name of FUCK is going on and why is it allowed to continue!?”, most people had been showing indignation...on Twitter, being extremely angry...at home. It took some pretty dark reality checks to shake folks up. The thought of 22 (now some sources say 30+) million Americans losing healthcare brought a few thousand people out, just a few thousands out of 71 million who voted for a different candidate. For months now I and many others have been begging anyone who’ll listen to go out, go beyond the fallacy of sticking solely to hashtag activism and actually act! Before the women’s march injected some much needed life into people, I was met with everything from sheer indifference to a sense of total hopelessness (useless sentiment), but the worst thing so far, the one that really angered me to the fucking core, was the sickeningly common sentence “we can’t do anything about it”. Buying into the fact that you’re powerless, failing to understand that people run the government and not the other way around is the most successful form of oppression ever deployed and let me tell you, there’s nowhere else on earth where it has been applied more successfully than in the US. Politicians running wild knowing there’s 0 accountability for their actions is what motivated the batshit insane last few weeks in which republicans have released a kind of greatest hits of nefarious fuckery which include the sentencing of millions to death or bankruptcy (or both) without health insurance, getting rid of what little oversight they have (though that was over with? Check again...), and paying the bill for donald’s dumbass wall which may be the most ridiculous, useless thing ever made...this kind of distancing between politicians an accountability is why crisis like Flint drag out for years with no resolution - or even interest for a resolution.

It really is a damn tragedy the situation has been allowed to run out of control, so now it’s time to get a handle on the lunacy. Before American women (actually, women everywhere) brought it, a few weeks back, LA and NY showed up early with marches of about 10 thousand people each, the most meaningful actions pre-post-inauguration; some folks burned a couple of trash cans in Portland (and conservatives have been crying out that “the cities are burning!!!” ever since, failing to mention, of course, that rioters are mainly paid elements to create this kind of disruption so people like donald can bitch about it later; see also Washington DC a few days ago) and that’s about it really...So what have we learned? Massive protests, shutting down streets, cities...it’s the only way to go. There needs to be a continuity to the kind of spirit which propelled the women's match. Politicians will never admit it, but they’re terrified of people in large numbers, they may despise voters but they also need them. So this “inauguration”, these disastrous first days, a ridiculous circus which would have been deemed too stupid to be featured in the cheapest of French farces can either mark the end of The American People’s chance to act or the start of a proper, comprehensive uprising. If you were waiting for the inauguration to then push for an impeachment...that won’t fly here, it’s too late for any of the regular democratic processes. Election was illegitimate, electoral college voted illegitimately...relying on this kind of stuff is dead and buried. Keep hearing folks talk about 2020, elections...bless their hearts...even if by some miracle we reach that date, do y'all really think there will ever, EVER be anything remotely close to a free election ever again? With these corrupt fucks in power? Nah, that ship has sailed. donald getting “elected” was what’s called a proof of concept and now, like a cancer, his so called administration will infect every nook and cranny of government, making it impossible to remove. Best case scenario, some key players get kicked out and there’s a chance to start repairing the damage, but the root is firmly planted and there will be massive problems for many years to come because donald and his posse got this far. Plus, external influence is and will continue to be massively powerful; Russia has republicans tightly grabbed by the balls which means all their decisions aren't really their own and that the US is now a satellite state. Cold War era communists would piss themselves in excitement like puppies if they had ever even dared to dream that such a thing could be possible. And the kicker is, the U.S. wasn’t even the main act, it was just a beta test. France and Germany are coming up next, efforts to end NATO and the EU are well on their way and in Europe, stupid people are falling for the same kind of “populism” (aka very poorly disguised racism and xenophobia and other assorted far right ideological diarrhea) that stupid people in America fell for when sprayed by golden boy himself. My faint hope is that a large enough number of Europeans will wake up in time. So far I remain disappointed. Twice now in fairly recent times Europe fucked itself up; soon it will be on its way to a third go. “Those who don’t understand history...” etc.

So here we are, 2017 and worried about world wars, nuclear wars, a Russian empire, nazis and the end of democracy. Ain't that a bitch? The real kicker tho, the part that made me so very pissed off at the reasonable, logic people out there is that the whole thing was so, so, SO very fucking avoidable...we got complacent and lost focus on how vicious the fight was and how vicious we had to be to win it. I love FLOTUS44 to no end but the motto should have been “when they go low, we get a motherfucking club and crack their head open cause they’re already in a convenient position to get bashed and we gotta take these fuckers out, pronto” - not as catchy, but it was the right attitude. To show just how soft and out of touch people have become, this week there’s been a debate about if punching a nazi is wrong. I shit you not! “If” it’s wrong...smh. And even if throwing hands isn’t your thing, all anyone ever really had to do was show up. Right at the start, show up, provide the numbers for “strength in numbers”, be a body in a crowd. Wasn’t hard, wasn’t costly, didn’t need a great deal of planning...call up a couple of friends who in turn call up 2 or 3 more and just...showing up and demanding the most basic legitimacy needed for an election, demanding that a line was drawn between free speech and hate speech, demanding that something as vile as donald and pence and bannon and kushner and flynn and every other piece of shit in the gang wasn’t allowed anywhere near a Presidential election. People knew what was at stake, people saw the democratic processes fail.

Like I said, the key players are predictable, they don’t break character; you know for a fact what they’ll do: donald will always be a sociopathic old perv and act like such; republicans will always be money hungry, moralless whores (and I use that word for the actions themselves, I mean no disrespect to hardworking, honest prostitutes who don’t deserve to be compared to something as disgusting as republicans); white supremacists will always be inferior whiny bitches; and the people who support all these aberrations will always be too fundamentally dense, too goddamn stupid to understand the seven ways till Sunday in which they’re getting fucked while cheering for the ones pounding their ass. But the people who know better, the people who’ve seen this ridiculous charade since the start for what it is and got lost in pointless shit like in house fighting (who had the best candidate cause of reasons) or simply didn’t lift a finger in any serious and meaningful way to try and stop it...they’re ones responsible for the mess being in play. It’s pretty simple: you see a toddler with a gun, you don’t wait till it shoots itself in the damn face, you take the gun away.

So where will we be a little while from now if things don’t change dramatically? Well let me put on my Carnac The Magnificent hat on (a lil something for the kids to Google, take their mind of this whole “we’re all probably gonna die horrible deaths” dealio): Our buddy Vladimir, finding out this shit actually works (whaaaaaat? Long shot win!), will try and succeed with the same model in other countries, Europe will be at war again, a short one because Russia will steamroll resistance as it takes over.NOT looking forward to that. The US will be carved like a thanksgiving turkey; first, the complete demolition of the Obama legacy because, you know, memories of a black Man in office for 8 years won’t do, gotta bulldoze that shit like, yesterday! Remind “the blacks” (as donald says) of their place, make aberrations of the LGBTs again, and fuck this environment shit cause who needs clean air and water when there’s fucking oil to drill, goddamn it!!! However, it won’t be just a gutting of government and liberties and rights, but also of territory. California will be the first to exit, also with - very indirect and covert - Russian backing, NY will follow. Texas will probably join in cause...well, it’s Texas, it’s just itching to shoot at something. The rest of the territory will be as miserable as any third world country. Sadly I won’t get the pleasure of shouting “MAGA!” and laughing my ass off in the face of every single Trump voter while they starve or die from most banal diseases in the book. A true shame. Russia will continue to fund terrorism like it does with ISIS, as well as planning/carrying out terrorist attacks whenever it suits their strategic interests (see Berlin, last Christmas), with donald being ISIS’ greatest poster child for recruitment while his buildings will make for great targets. Convenience! Oh and let’s not forget that in a pre-butchered US, Republicans will still need a war, so expect one. Republicans will also need 9/11 levels of terror, so expect a 2.0 version of that as well. 

All of this of course if donald’s alarming mental decay doesn’t throw a wild card in the mix and he just decides: “fuck it, I’ll nuke everything” cause someone sent him a mean tweet. #Sad. And even if by some other wild card donald were to get impeach over prostitutes pissing on him or whatever the fuck else the shithead got recorded doing, the problem would still be the same: compromised government, completely invalid election, proven concept for aspiring global dictator, and resounding triumph of white Amerikkka’s “values”. The only way to do something which means a damn is to go out in force, quickly. 

In a week marked by reporters get yelled at, at the White House, over crowd size “alternative facts”, a week in which we find donald had the inauguration pictures photoshoped to make his hands look bigger (what a fucking LOSER. That dick must really be in the micro category, I swear), a week in which the president elect goes nuts with executive orders to, out of pure spite, demolish the Obama legacy (donald is so insanely jealous of 44 that it clouds whatever shred of reason that pea brain of his can still muster) while simultaneously rambling about a blatant lie of millions of illegals voting while people in his goddamn entourage are actually guilty of voter fraud, a miserable week which saw government put a gag order on agencies divulging scientific facts, making them create “rogue” twitter accounts, an alarming week with revelations that staff and golden showers himself use all kinds of unprotected email services, the same thing which haunted Clinton forever without a shred of substance to it and that now, apparently, is totally cool, a sad week in which the megalomaniac embarrassment moved forward with orders to keep women in children stranded in war zones...is a week in which everyone should be planning exactly how seriously they want to contribute to the containment of this situation. personally, I suggest very and as soon as possible.

[This take on things is my own. Will not try to impose it nor debate it]

[bitchcraftmagic]

I do not think it is a particularly hot take to declare, unequivocally, that the discourse around Pride this year has been, how do you say, rancid. It’s been month old eggs, solid milk, wilted lettuce rancid, baby. Between the unilateral dismissal of all things rainbow to no sexy sex in front of the precious children it’s just been a real mess. And all this messiness had me thinking about my own relationship to Pride and queerness and our history and I have come to some conclusions I would like to scream out into the void, if you don’t mind.

I like to call myself a historian because I got a useless degree in it and it makes me feel good. I am not a professional by any stretch of the imagination unless there is someone who can pay me to talk out of my ass, but alas, there is not. Instead I must deliver my missives for free here on this hellsite and pretend my $320,000 financial mistake gives me any authority on the subject . With that being said I have noticed, with alarming clarity, that people don’t know fucking shit about the past. Everyone just thinks the people of the past were dumbfucks who couldn’t wipe their ass and died at the ripe old age of thirty with twenty seven kids surrounding them. Critical fucking thinking be damned. Part of this is a shitty education system and the other part is rampant incuriosity. Some motherfuckers don’t care and it shows. Others just walk around with unearned confidence thinking they know all there is to know about history. It is an epidemic that will lead to our downfall, for this I am sure. But I digress. I say all of this to illustrate that so many queer people nowadays do not have a single clue where we came from and thus our discourse has become a hell from which we cannot escape.

Every year during pride month I watch the documentary “How to Survive a Plague.” It came out in 2012, same year I did, and I have gone out of my way to watch it every year. I own it, which says something in this age of streaming. And every year as I sit and sob, heart aching, eyes swollen, despair settled into my fragile bones I ask myself why? Why do I do this? It’s not a fun watch. It’s painful. But I watch it anyways. I watch it because it humbles me. I watch it because it hurts. I watch it because I see the anger and pain of a community that was so reviled by society it was left to die. And yet they screamed so loud that they could not be ignored. I watch with awe and reverence for the people who made it a fucking point to not die in vain but to go out with such force and righteous anger that no one could look away. To see what ACT UP did, to see what just average every day people did to make sure everyone understood that this was murder by neglect is something to be proud of. The fact that we as a community survived, that we as a community did not go quietly into that good night, the fact that we still created beautiful things and had beautiful lives despite the horror and vitriol that was laid at our feet is something to be infinitely proud of. It is why we celebrate Pride. We have Pride because every time they tried to shame us, to kill us, we said fuck you. It is pain and it is beauty. That’s our history. It behooves us not to lose sight of that.

The arbiters of discourse right now, I think, are rather young queer folk. I’ve seen a stat that says a 3rd of Gen Z identify as queer and I think because they have the numbers they have a pretty loud voice within in the community. I believe, for the most part, that this is a positive. The children are the future, etc. But I think a lot of Gen Z folks have lived in a world where queer acceptance is something that is rather commonplace. It is not really and truly, of course, and there are many things that still need to change but society at large is okay with queerness. To verbally come out against the LGBTQIA+ community is seen, at the very least, as “uncool” and you will be roundly mocked for your rather regressive stance on sexuality. This doesn’t have that much substantial advantage when we are systematically oppressed but the more privileged among us don’t feel the sting of it. I think this allows many people to live in the fantasy that expressions of queerness must adhere to a new set of rules devoid of historical context.

Rainbow capitalism is the buzz word de jour. It lives in the pantheon of misunderstood terms the internet has gobbled up. Gaslighting, normalize, cancel and rainbow capitalism exist in this pseudo-leftist hellscape where annoying people with internet access wax poetic about how ‘problematic’ Rugrats actually was because Deedee didn’t seem to have a life outside of the Pickle’s offspring (I made this up for comedic affect. If it exists in reality please do not tell me about it). Rainbow capitalism started off as an intelligent critique on the way in which corporations utilized queer imagery during Pride month to seem inclusive when in fact they were part of a the very structure that oppressed us. Wells Fargo, McDonalds, Unilever, shit corporations like this that slap a rainbow on something stupid and float down some Main Street in a liberal city claiming altruism when not a penny of their massive profits went into a queer person’s pocket. What it has been reduced to is a tool to make fun of any rainbow themed thing and any corny fool who dares dawn a pair of colorful shoes. We live in a society, baby, and it’s the nasty beast of capitalism. And in the confines of that society when you are a viable consumer you have value. Capitalism recognizes profit loss and gain not humanity. You earn humanity through market value and rainbow capitalism shows us, in the most twisted way possible, we have gained cultural capital. Is it perfect or even something we should actively desire? No, not really, but it says something about the way things have changed. I’m in my late twenties and when I was a closeted queer teen there was barely any acknowledgment of Pride month. Now I get emails weeks ahead of time telling me about the Big Gay Sale that Anthropologie is going to have or whatever. Sure I roll my eyes and as a big fat commie I do not engage with it but it does say something about our shifting societal acceptance. Oreos said trans rights which is…whatever, but it is also kind of amazing when you remember that not so long ago most of our culture liked to pretend that trans people did not actually exist. For our elders they saw a world that wanted them dead and now see a world that actually wants to cater to them even if it’s only for one profitable month. It isn’t perfect but it’s something. Your problem is not the rainbow part it’s the capitalism part. You hate being reduced to a consumer instead of, say, a human fucking being with a soul. We all have to participate in this nightmare but at least we can eek out a small modicum of joy when we rub our rotting bodies down with a rainbow themed soap bar. If you truly hate rainbow capitalism so much consider celebrating Pride a month early, on May 1st, with workers around the world and strike, baby. Use that queer anger and fuck capitalism right up the ass.

This brings me to my next point. Sex belongs at pride. End of story. Kids do too. And there are ways in which kink and sex can be separated from children and families at pride. I’m as sexually repressed as any former Catholic can be but I recognize that the fact that I am uncomfortable with some kink shit is on me and no one else. Queer people have been demonized for our sexuality, for being too sexual, for being ‘deviantly’ sexual. Flaunting our sexuality is and act of defiance. Don’t get it twisted. Also, kids seeing non-explicit sexual expression is not the end of the world. Human bodies and sexuality are not inherently bad or predatory and should not radically traumatize a person, minor or otherwise. I’m not saying go to bone town in public, I’m just saying a leather harness will not make a child weep in terror. Y’all have to be smarter than this.

The discourse is bad but what is worse is that no one seems to be listening. Queer history, in all its pain and glory, is forgotten or ignored. We can’t do that. We cannot allow our stories, our lives, our pain to mean nothing. Fucking learn about our struggles and our triumphs. Don’t fucking forget this all can go away in a blink of an eye and we have to fucking fight tooth and nail to be heard and respected. A don’t forget how far we have come. Our ancestors did not fight and die for us to forget them. And our community, around the world, still suffers and cries out for us. Remember that the next time you clown on some rainbow sneakers that at least they want your money and not your fucking life.*

*this was good line to end on but I do want to acknowledge that here, in these United States, black trans women are still fighting for their lives daily. I just liked the, uh, semi-poetic nature of the sentence. Thankyousomuch.