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apothecarinomicon · 3 years

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Spring week 3 part 2

I learned from overhearing Crystal’s words of comfort to them that the Low family daughter is named Bonnie, and that the son is Ewan.

When we made it back to the cottage, I got Ewan laid out on the table and took a good look at the damage. It was a deep gash through his calf, weeping red. I decided then that it was more important to keep pressure on it than for me to see any more detail. Angus told me that they had been working in a new tunnel and had triggered a trap, that if Ewan had been closer to the thing it might have cut his leg clean in two.

I asked whether it might have been wise to take him to the doctor. Crystal told me that my services were cheaper and, word had it, more efficient. I found it hard to argue with that. Still, I knew if the potion took too long to make they wouldn’t have much of a choice.

I hurriedly flipped through my predecessor’s notes. In addition to the wound itself, I knew I’d have to treat the pain. I was glad for my foresight in planting my garden with a natural painkiller, but as I flipped through the notes something caught my eye. The entry for foxsocks noted that it was slightly poisonous. The symptoms were in the realm of acceptable side effects, but it would be better if I could find an ingredient that could counteract it.

Fortunately, with the variety of plants and animals around and the mildness of the poison, that wasn’t too tall of an order.

I scooped up Ailean and, before I left, instructed Crystal and Angus on how to crush the petals of the foxsocks outside to make a temporary topical painkiller. I made sure to instruct them on exactly how much to use to maximize its effectiveness and minimize the side effects, then I hurried out to Glimmerwood Grove.

────⊱⁜⊰────

I was hoping to find Calder’s stream, so I could ask him where I might find a nurse willow tree (the sap is so good for wounds—disinfecting, aiding in blood clotting and healing—that it’s often referred to as “surgeon sap”) rather than risk getting lost searching for one myself.

As it turned out, I managed to get lost before I even made it to the stream. I realized I didn’t recognize my surroundings (I had left the path) and quickly turned in a circle. I saw brighter light filtering off to my left and hurried towards it, hoping that in a clearing I might be able to find my bearings.

Crashing out from the treeline I found that while I was in a clearing, it did not appear to be a natural one. I found myself on a field—not like a meadow, but rather the kind used for team sports. I recognized it as the kind used to play a sport called gameball (I know, I know, but that’s what it’s called!). The bounds of the field were demarcated with red lines painted onto the grass. It was a rectangle about twice as long as it was wide, with goals made of wicker on each of the shorter sides. Ten parallel lines ran along the width of the field, with a circle at the center—overall, pretty much a regulation field.

Gameball is played in two teams of five, and the objective is to get a round ball made of leather (the eponymous ‘gameball’) into the opposing team’s goal. The first team to do so five times wins. There are a few other rules, but mostly anything goes so long as no one gets permanently injured or killed. It’s a major sport in High Rannoc—I know a lot of the larger settlements have local teams that travel to compete. Greenmoor isn’t big enough to have one of those, though, so it seemed likely that this field was for amateur games only.

There was a set of three large rocks with flat faces standing to one side of the field—the center one was the largest, while the ones on either side were about the size of a human adult. The surfaces of the stones were clearly smooth enough to paint, because they clearly had been painted several times over. The large one in the center was a scoreboard, with five circles on each side separated by a line down the middle. The circles appeared to be white initially, but meant to be painted over in dark blue when a goal was scored. The left side seemed to have won the last game played, 5-3.

The two smaller stones on either side depicted team mascots. The one on the right was named Gregor the Gryphon, illustrated with the characteristic lion’s body, tail, and hind legs, and eagle’s forelegs and head. The face of it was slightly anthropomorphized, with a severe and determined expression—fairly typical mascot fare. It was the illustration on the left stone, though, that gave me pause. It was a sheep, smiling and standing on its back hooves—an odd choice for a sports mascot, to be sure. Above the image was written ‘Senga the Sheep.’

Senga is not exactly a common name—especially not for livestock—so there was really only one sheep that could have inspired the mascot: the very same sheep I helped down the mountain the other day, the one that had belonged to my predecessor.

At the time I couldn’t really take a moment to process this information as I was on a deadline, but sitting here writing this it’s got me thinking. My predecessor was clearly involved in this game somehow if they were using her pet as one of the two mascots. Gameball is not a solo sport—it requires at least ten people. No one I’ve been able to find so far in town has said they were close to my predecessor or knew much about her. Assuming they’re telling the truth, who was she playing with? If they’re lying about knowing her, why? What other interests did she have outside of magic? Why was she so clandestine about them towards the other townsfolk?

Next time I see Ainsley, I’m going to have to grill her.

────⊱⁜⊰────

Upon leaving the clearing, I almost immediately came across a trail of boar tracks. As much as I didn’t want to run into the animal itself, boars are well known for enjoying a largely magical diet, and these tracks seemed to have been tramped with purpose. It seemed reasonable that the animal that made them could have caught the scent of an edible reagent—perhaps even the nurse willow tree I was looking for.

I didn’t have to follow them long to find where they led. It didn’t seem to be anywhere special. I’d slumped and steeled myself to retrace my steps when Ailean croaked to get my attention before hopping to the ground. She landed on the cap of a grayish-blue mushroom. I was feeling irritable and bent down to scoop her up so that we could just get on our way, but the feeling of the mushroom against my finger made me pause. It wasn’t soft and spongy as I’d expected, but hard. It felt like knocking my finger against a rock. I’d never seen this species of mushroom before, but I’d read about it: the shieldcap. The caps that give them their name are so hard because they’re full of calcium—great for teeth and bones.

I sighed, quickly thanked Ailean, and plucked the mushroom she sat on to take with us as we continued our search.

────⊱⁜⊰────

The search continued to be frustrating. I was just about ready to give up and go find a different reagent when, to put it lightly, something presented itself.

I’d found my way back to the path and was trying to figure out whether I ought to go left or right to get back to town. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving directly ahead. Turning to look, I saw—for the second time since I’d arrived in Greenmoor—a unicorn. I didn’t know whether it was the same one or not, but it certainly looked the same. Do unicorns come in colors other than white?

It didn’t seem quite as skittish as last time, although it certainly was watching me carefully. It snorted, turned, and cantered a ways away. Then it stopped. On instinct, I took a step towards it, and it immediately started moving again.

I lost sight of it quickly, but decided to keep heading in the direction it was going for just five minutes. If I didn’t find anything, I’d turn back.

It only took three minutes before I found a nurse willow. Its thick canopy blocked out other trees’ branches and made room for dense, multicolored flora underneath it. The trunk was large and healthy, nearly wet with the amount of sap running down it (nurse willows leak sap naturally). I had to practically wade through the tangled plant life to reach it, but I managed to collect enough sap from the trunk for the potion.

Making my way back through the underbrush to the path, I wondered whether the unicorn had led me there intentionally. It certainly seemed like it had, but why would it? It might have been magical but it was still an animal that didn’t know me. It couldn’t have known what I was looking for, either—I had never told it. The whole affair was simply strange.

Regardless, with the foxsocks from my garden I now had everything I needed. It was time to head back.

────⊱⁜⊰────

When I made it back to the cottage, here is what I did:

First, I handed Angus my bucket and sent him to collect water from the stream.

Meanwhile, I crushed the petals of the foxsocks flower until they were a paste.

When Angus returned with the water, I added the petal paste and raw surgeon sap directly to it.

Finally, I stirred the potion until the texture and color were reasonably uniform.

I decided to call this potion “Ouchie Oil.” Given the fairly mundane and common affliction it treated, it seemed right to give it a name directly evocative of its curative properties.

Ewan was moaning and writhing by the time the potion was ready—still loopy from the poison even as the pain was returning. I had Crystal and Angus sit him up and carefully fed him the potion, which calmed him back down within a few minutes. I told the rest of the family that it would likely still be about a week before a wound of that size would close. Crystal responded that one week was better than the two or three they could expect with the doctor’s treatments.

On that subject, I asked them who the town doctor was and where I could find them—I figured I might as well introduce myself and try to head off any competitive dynamic. They gave me a name and address fittingly central to the town—along Frederick Street, right near the square.

Crystal handed me payment as Angus hoisted Ewan into his arms, adjusting his grip to support his son’s head like he would a baby’s. Crystal thanked me, and told me I’d always be welcome to stop by their place when I was in town.

Bonnie, who had been entirely taciturn thus far, approached me as her parents left. She thanked me quietly, admitting that while they’d walked into their fair share of traps, this one was particularly frightening to witness. She looked about ready to go in for a hug, but I stuck out my hand instead. She shook it. I told her I was happy to help—it was my job after all—and assured her her brother would be alright.

She thanked me again, then jogged out to rejoin her family.

My to-do list just keeps growing longer. I think I ought to deal with a good bit of it in the coming days, before another surprise patient springs themself on me.

⇦●〇●⇨

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carriagelamp · 3 years

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November 2020: A Months of Familiarity

This November ended up being a month of me either rereading old favourites, exploring new books by favourite authors, or a mix of both.

…Be prepared for so much Terry Prachett, I found his audiobooks on Libby last month and since that I’ve been unstoppable.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents

The first of my Terry Practhett books to mention! I chose to include this one on my list because it’s a beautiful stand alone novel, perfect to read if you’ve never touched on of Pratchett’s works before, and is often overlooked.

The book is about Maurice, an “amazing” cat by his own admission, who has teamed up with a stupid boy and his very own plague of rats. The moneymaking scheme is simple: set the rats loose on a town and after causing a panic let the boy stroll in and offer to play his pipe and lead them away… for a fee. This is working well, until Maurice, the boy, and the rats arrive in the town Bad Blintz. Here the rats are beginning to question the morality of their work, the boy gets entangled with a young, mischievous local girl, and they’re all shocked to find out that the town already has a real rat infestation… or so the rat catchers claim. Things quickly turn sinister and deadly as the group is forced to confront not only the cruelty of humanity, but something even more sinister living in the small, dark, hidden place of the town.

This is a YA book, unlike some of Pratchett’s other novels, so it’s a quick, fun read, while still having all of his dry wit and heavy, complicated thoughts about society, morality, belief, and what it means to be a person. It’s a genuine delight to see Maurice and the rats, recently made sentient by wizards’ rubbish, struggle to come to terms with who they were and who they are now.

Black Pearl Ponies: Red Star & Wildflower

Y’all it ain’t a secret at this point that I enjoy a stupid horse girl book, right? I picked up the first two books of the Black Pearl Ponies books from the library on a whim and they were basically what they promised. Girl lives with family on ranch, father helps train horses, girl goes on pony adventures with ponies. A particular focus is given to horse welfare and care. Very mediocre but a nice thoughtless covid read if you, like me, get a craving for animals books written for seven year olds from time to time. Plus this comes with the added humour of it being written, as far as I can tell, by a British author who thinks all Americans are stetson wearing cowboys which I find unreasonably funny.

Crenshaw

I love Katherine Applegate’s work; I read the Endling series earlier this year and they are overwhelmingly good. Crenshaw was also an enjoyable read, though not my favourite by her. It read a little bit like a book I read last fall, No Fixed Address, which was also a very good read though not my usual genre. Crenshaw is about a boy, Jackson, whose family, though close-knit and loving, is experiencing financial difficulties and struggle with food scarcity, homelessness, and all the instability and stress that results from this. During this tumultuous time, Jackson is surprised by the reappearance of a tall, bipedal, snarky cat — Crenshaw, his old imaginary friend. This is a charming book that blends genuine, real world hardships with whimsy and magical realism.

The Enemy Above: A Novel of WWII

Since it was Rememberance Day this month, I decided to pick up a holocaust novel. This book is about 12-year-old Anton, a young Jewish boy who finds himself fleeing from his Polish farm in the middle of the night with his old grandma when a German raiding party that attacks their village in an effort to make the countryside “judenfrei”. The book is, perhaps, not the most well-fleshed out, but it’s fast-paced and exciting for a child/YA audience that’s being introduced to holocaust literature, without trying to downplay the absolutely horror and brutality of the Nazis. It manages to strike a satisfying balance between fear, tragedy, and hope.

“Everything he had heard was true. He was just a twelve-year-old boy and yet they hunted him. He had broken no laws, done nothing wrong. He was simply born Jewish. How could anyone want to kill him for it?”

Gregor the Overlander

Somehow I never knew that Suzanne Collins wrote anything other than The Hunger Games? I stumbled across this series at a used bookstore and was first taken by the cover and then shocked when I realized I recognized the author’s name. Well The Hunger Games was such a good read, how could I not pick up a book with people riding on a giant fucking bat?

Such a good choice. I’m almost done book two and bought book three today after work. It is exactly the sort of low fantasy that I live for, when a fantasy world lives so close to the real world that you can practically touch it. I also love the fact that while all the wild fantastical elements are happening, you still have the main character taking care of his toddler sister the whole time. It’s at times charming, hilarious, and nerve-wracking!

It’s about Gregor, a normal kid who’s doing his best to help his mom take care of his two younger siblings ever since his father disappeared years ago. Gregor expected months of boredom when he agrees to stay home over the summer instead of going to camp like his sister in order to watch his baby sister, Boots, and their grandma while his mom is at work. He never could have expected that a simple trip to the apartment’s laundry room would lead to both him and Boots tumbling miles beneath the earth into the pitch black Underland, a place filled with giant rats and bugs and people with translucent skin who fly through the massive caverns on huge bats. He also could have never expected that he would get wrapped up in a deadly prophecy that would force him to travel into distant, dark lands into the waiting claws of an overwhelming enemy.

Kings, Queens, and In-Between

A Canadian queer novel that I’ve seen trumpeted everywhere. Libraries, classrooms, bookstore, this book got so much hype (and has such a pleasing cover) that I had to get my hands on it. Now, I’ve got to admit that it’s not really my genre; I don’t love realistic fiction. But that being said, it’s a fun, heart-warming, queer romp through that explores gender, sexuality, love, family, friendship… there’s a lot of lovable, quirky, complicated characters that get thrown together in unexpected ways at a local summer carnival. While there’s tension and misunderstandings and mistakes, this is overall a very optimistic and loving novel, and would be a great read if you want a queer novel that reads like cotton candy.

Love, The Tiger

This book is the graphic novel equivalent of a nature documentary. There’s no text, but you follow a day in the life of a tiger as it moves through the jungle on the quest for food. The art is honestly beyond outstanding, and though it’s a really quick read it is so very worth it. I’ve also read Love, The Lion in this series (also good, though a bit more confusing imho) as well as one of the books from his other series Little Tails which is still very nature and education based, though for a slightly younger audience.

Making Money

More Pratchett! Making Money was the first Discworld book I ever read, and it’s one of my most reread ones — it’s an ultimate comfort read! This is technically the sequel to Going Postal (another book I reread this month), in which conman Moist Von Lipwig is saved from a rightful death at the noose in exchange for agreeing to work for the city. Going Postal sees Moist narrowly dodging death in many varied forms as he tries to get the Anhk-Morpork postal service back on its feet and get the drifts of dead, whispering letters moving again. In Making Money things at the post office have become… too easy. Moist is bored, restless, until he finds himself thrust into a new job: head of the Royal Mint. There he has been given not only charge of the biggest bank in Anhk-Morpork, but also a dog with a price on its head, a lethal family with all the money in the world out for his blood, and the fear that his secret past life may be on the verge of being exposed to everyone, all while he’s desperately trying to make money…

The Moist series is honestly an example of Pratchett at his absolute best imo, and the amount of humour, wit, adventure, and scathing commentary he can build around a bank is outstanding. Cannot recommend enough.

The One And Only Ivan

Another book I’ve been hearing everyone talk about, as well as another Katherine Applegate book. It’s been on my radar for a while, but with the sequel and a movie coming out, it had everything at a fever pitch and I finally picked it up. Fantastic read, I definitely enjoyed it more than Crenshaw. This book was based off the true story of Ivan, a gorilla taken from his home in the jungle and sold to the owner of a mall, where he spent years of his life growing from child to adult silverback in a small, concrete enclosure. In this fictionalized version, everything changes for Ivan and his friends, when a new baby elephant is bought to help revitalize the mall attractions and Ivan makes a promise he doesn’t know how to keep: to protect this baby, and keep her from living the life Ivan and his friends were forced to. This book made me very emotional. Applegate’s picture book that goes along with it is also a great companion read.

Ranma ½

I realized that our library had the 2-in-1 editions of Ranma ½ and honestly that was it for me. This has been a favourite series of mine since I was in middle school and realized that the creator of Inuyasha had written other things. It is unapologetically ridiculous and larger-than-life and you have to love the shameless joy it has at being ludicrous. It does start to feel a little repetitive the further into the series you go, but at the moment, with covid, I find I have a huge tolerance for rereading slightly repetitive things so long as they make me happy. And boy howdy does the vaguely queer undertones, endless pining, and relentless slapstick of Ranma ½ make me happy. This is classic manga y’all and if you’ve never read it you should!

The basic premise, for anyone that doesn’t is that of an bonkers martial arts comedy. It follows Ranma and his father who, while training in China, fell into cursed springs. Each spring has the tragic legend of a person or animal who drowned in it, and if someone falls in they inevitably turn into that creature any time they’re doused in cold water. Ranma had the misfortune of falling into “The Spring of Drowned Girl” and, indeed, turns into a girl anytime he’s hit with cold water. Things continue to spiral out of control when Ranma meets his arranged fiancée, Akane, who is as exasperated by this situation as Ranma. Both would rather be fighting people than worrying about things like romance. And don’t worry, there is lots and lots and lots and lots of some of the goofiest martial arts fights that you can imagine for a bunch of high schoolers.

Through the Woods

A beautiful and creepy Canadian graphic novel. I honestly really don’t even know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. It’s a collection of short horror stories, with beautiful, flowing art style that draws you in and sends chills down your spine. I’ll let the art doing the talk, and honestly beg you to go find a way to read this graphic novel:

The Witch’s Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

The last Terry Pratchett book on my list (though shout out to the others I’ve listened to this month: Wee Free Men, Hat Full of Sky, Men At Arms, and Snuff) and one that I actually physically, rather than listening to the audiobook. I included this one because unlike the others, this was a Pratchett book I had never read before. It collects a number of Pratchett’s short stories that had been written for children over a number of years. These weren’t necessarily my favourite examples of Pratchett’s writing (I prefer his longer work that can really dive into social issues) but it was such a quick, easy, fun read that you can’t really help but be charmed by it. I liked the stories that took place in “the wild wild west (of Wales)” in particular.

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bookdragonlibrary · 5 years

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Second Friday YJ appreciation

1-3 ; 4-6 ; 7-9 ; 10-13 ; 14-16 ; 17 ; 18 ; 19 ; 20 ; 21 ; 22 ; 23 ; 24-26

—————————— Private security

- Will has the dad belly! Lian is cuter and cuter! <3 (But it’s just me or she seems less Asian than in season 2? Where’s Jade?)

- Lucas Carr! :D (For those who don’t remember him, he appeared in the first YJ comic book and in season 2 when he teachs Gar at Mount Justice.)

- Why Dr Jace stays at Luthor Grande Hotel, in Metropolis!

- Bowhunter Security! With orignal Roy/Arsenal, clone Roy Will/Red Arrow and clone Jim Harper/Guardian (So if he’s Guardian again, what about Mal? He’s still a hero? Which one?) I love the dynamic of the Harper family and Roy calls Will bro!! He has finally dealt with his trauma (he seems to) and considers Will like he’s older brother! :3

- Dick in a security costum! Just like in Titans with the policer costume. He has a new outfit every Friday!

- “An old soul in an young body” Another clue for the Motherbox theory! So the first Halo is still alive inside or gone for good?

- Zatanna! TT.TT

- American genetically modified beef! xD

- Am I the only one who sees Jeff x Dr Jace miles away?

- “To the SUV!” My new war cry!

- Now Brick has red skin, it means he activated his metagene. How did he get out of jail by the way?

- I love how they show the Prince’s not understanding. He asks questions instead of jugement and “it’s a machine. I don’t understand.” instead of “You’re dumb” or something.

- I’m kind of afraid of Wolf sleeping. Don’t tell me he’s getting old and will die soon :(

- All Halo knows from her post life is violence, torture and hatred. No wonder she doesn’t want to remember...

- Don’t forget the clipboard! xD Will is more loyal to it than to his hat!

- OMG! Giovanni aged so much in just 7-8 years! He’s what? Between only 40-50! Side effect of Dr Fate’s control?

- “Wall” My heart, why? TT.TT So heartbreaking than Dick is too afraid to be part of a team because he lost Jason and Wally and Barbara gets injured.

- “I’m older than Jim.” So Jim was made after Will. interesting!

- Harper’s family business! Need more episodes with those 3!

- I really loves the humour in this episode! xD

—————————— Away Mission

- Forager! Orion! Wait, what a bastard! :o

- Gregor tries to protect his little twin brother and has compassion for the Quracis refugies. I love him!

- Bear! Wait there’s a thing between him and Dreamer?! The notebook with the photos! The nostalgia!

- So the New Gods use metaslaves? O.o

- Traci, Jaime and Bart! :D And Jaime finally talks! Now Scarab’s turn! “There’s no sound in space. The physics on the show is so messed up!” It’s Jaime or Scarab who speaks? Or Jaime took the comment habit of his bug friend? I definitely see Scarab saying something like that! xD So Traci watches the shw for the story or for Gar? “Hello Megan!” Their ringtone for the missions is the generic of this show! So cute!

- Cassie and Tim have a conversation without yelling at each other. That’s an healthy relationship. So I hope they won’t break up :( “Awkward...” Sorry Virgil, you seem pretty alone :(

- Jaime, why do you massage your side? Bart didn’t hit you that hard, did he? And he calls him amigo, sorry Bluepulse shippers... (Well, at least it isn’t hermano, so maybe Bart’s just pinning, whatever that means.) I was expected Scarab to yells “Incompatible!” to the boom tube... “Who watch the show for the physics? Who uses a boom tube for the physics?” I love the dynamic of this trio! And Traci is so adorable! Bart’s haircut changes every frame or what?

- “I hacked the Justice League’s computer!” That’s my boy! xD And G designation is for Grayson right?

- M’gann and Cassie are two mad girlfriends, poor guys (Jaime, Bart and Virgil) they didn’t do anything wrong :/ “Superoblivious!” xD

- “Excuse me?” xD The Yj comic reference with Lucas Carr! Brion who wants to impress Halo.

- Even in bug form, M’gann is still white! :) It’s me or Blue just growls?

- Guys, stop stressing Brion, you gonna make him fail :( What did I say? —‘ “My trees” So Lucas Carr is a neightboor or something? “Excuse me?!” New color for Halo: Yellow is for attacking. I want to see what the green does!

- I love how M’gann put down her little brother like the older sister she is. So she used to hide behind a green form and her little brother behind a beast? You can see M’gann growth throught the comparison with her brother. “I have been dealing with the red and green oppression.” Wait, so there are red martians too? And is for Darkseid he made the bugs made at the New Gods? So they have less allies against him?

- Every metateens we saw so far doesn’t look human anymore. I don’t know if thee Light are doing that on purpose so we could not recognize them anymore or it’s because the forced evolution is too much for their body :(

- Is Halo healing herself like a reflexe or does Sphere help the processus to begin? Violet? That’s so cute! Wait, another supermartian parallel!

- Bart still has the same energy! (I hope this is not an act this time...) I love the Team dynamic: Virgil helping Cassie and thir hand five, Bart trying to stop the bugs from attacking Jaime, Cassie rescuing Jaime, Jaime helping Traci :3 The weapon has to be similar to Genesis tech to hurt Blue however...

- Baby martians look... cute? I think when he kills the green martian, it was on the mental plane and not a memory since he has that beast form. The nostalgia! Everyone is back in season 1 and with their season 1 version of themselves, except Artemis and... why do you have to bring Wally in every single damn episode?? Conner is M’gann shield!

- And two more metateens dead TT.TT Wait, failsafe? Poor Forager! He just wants justice and kindness :( I love how Cassie and Jaime jump on his side and M’gann adds two arms to adapt to his appearance. I’m sure M’gann’brother made the green bug mad telepathically, because Mantis already knew Forager brought the Earthlings and Bear on New Genesis when he first stopped the bugs’ attack.

- I need more of the trio Traci/Jaime/Bart to see their friendship, Traci’s story. And more Cassie and Virgil screentime because we barely saw them in season 2 and in this episode :(

- Why Blue seems so angry all the time? He had like one positive line in this episode. Is he still dealing with his trauma in season 2? Is he angry at himself? I don’t know if it’s anger, frustration or self-hatred :( I just want him to be happy after the nightmare in season 2 :( But I think it would be more human if he still has to deal with himself after being mindcontrolled for months...

—————————— Rescue Op

- Black Spider and Terra. The goggles have to much screen time to not have an importance after. Who was Jackie? “All the bosses will be proud” So Shadows + Light + Darkseid?

- So Barbara is indeed in a wheelchair :( I love how she still can push Dick down :) And barbdick are a new couple :) We need another ship name, a more YJ like one :)

- The Outsiders trio is so cool! So Forager don’t use pronouns so much. So he’s a he, she or them? Wow, Halo knows a lot about New Genesis. Another clue for the Motherbox theory. M’gann is so done to explain she’s not a earthling: “I’m not from Earth” “I’m from Mars!” “Brion is the alien to Forager” this is so true. Thanks for putting this! I love how Brion is so enthousiastic to meet aliens :) He looks like a kid! So bioship is in a car camouflage. Maybe that’s why Halo hurt herself so bad :( Mars town xD “That’s what we were thinking too. We? Uh Me” (and Oracle xD) So is Tara controled, brainwashed, has her memories rewritten? Or is she willingly working for the Shadows?

- Why I think Forager x bioship will become a... ship? xD Like Will x clipboard xD

- Dick, if you don’t want them to go to the Shadows, why did you show Brion their localisation? --’

- Halo’s enthousiasm is so cute! Forager’s too!

- Why it feels like Sensei is manipulating Brion with words just to make him mad? I’m sure he’s lying.

- Can we talk about Brion’s extreme reaction to Halo’s death? Parallel to Spitfire maybe? And can we please stop killing Halo? I know she will ressurect but it’s still painful :(

- Why the ninja fighting style reminds me of Robin? Like an older Damian?

- It’s indeed Sphere who starts the healing processus. “Is Halo a new god?” Another clue for the theory?

- When Ra’s mention “the Detective”, Dick growls. Is he mad at Batman? Or at the comment? Ra’s isn’t with the Light and at the head of the Shadows anymore. So who? Sportmaster? Cheshire or Deathstroke would be good clues! Ra’s should be mad at Jade with how he said “Get out!”

- Talia with Damian? So who is... Jason?? An amnesic Jason. Ok. I’m fine. I just need to... WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???? (I don’t like the deisgn of Talia which is too close from the animated movies: no bra is definitely not a good idea to fight and she looks too white for an Arabic person :/ Damian is ok I guess?) Do Ra’s want to “return” Jason when he will have his memories back or to use him against the batfamily? Jason should have been trained by Sensei for Dick to not recognize his fighting style.

- Brion really looks like Conner’s mentee with his clothes xD The parallel with the first trio (Robin, KF and Aqualad) Why are you breaking my heart like this? Except they did save Superboy when we don’t have intel of where Tara is :( Dick is still so sensitive when we talk about Wally :( And he looks so much like Batman now: same speech. Same situation, same result: another team is born! Poor Violet :( And the guy with the spiderweb tatoo could work with the Shadows? Or am I confusing with RWBY? xD

3 episodes = 3 trio. I love it! :D I know we will have more scenes with the Outisders but I also need the other trios: more screetime with the Harperfamily (the bowfamily?) and the Team!

I guess we will see the Batman Incorporation next week? Since we didn’t see them at all in 6 episodes. And more second season team would be great too, they only have one episode so far :(

#Young Justice #YJ reviews #watch young justice outsiders #watch young justice

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queernuck · 6 years

Text

The Kafkaesque, Without Kafka

To understand the Kafkaesque, to specifically discuss the means by which the “Kafkaesque” becomes part of a larger vocabulary of the conceptual space marked by literary analysis as a metacultural entity, as a specific discursive flow, one may refer to Kafka’s work itself, as well as the way in which it is read, or indeed, not read.

For many, the only Kafka they have read, or at least the first Kafka they read, is his “Metamorphosis” and it comes in a high school English class, often during a short story unit that lacks much in coherence or thematic linkage. Rather than creating an assemblage of short stories as one might in a collection thereof, or looking to discuss short stories with similar themes, from similar literary milieus, or from within a single author’s work in order to understand how the short story as a specific form is often used in order to explore a thematic structure in a form that a novel or even novella is unable to. The structure of the short story is used to great effect by Kafka’s works, such as “In The Penal Colony”, in that the shortness specifically informs its structure as a chronicle of a certain sort of event, a certain kind of encounter and uses a certain sort of obscurity, a kind of unfamiliarity specifically induced by the break the beginning of the story presents in order to place the reader in the place of the legal observer, learning of the penal colony’s affairs and the residual burden of colonialism evokes the structuring of the colonizing subject, the remove of the colonizer from the colonial. The short story specifically benefits from its form, from the way in which it contains and structures itself across a narrow field of interaction, in which the text not only operates rhizomally, but through developing rapidly, becoming a sort of rhizomal organism on a small scale. The Metamorphosis is perhaps one of the best examples of this, its famous beginning and less-remembered ending serving as part of a transfiguration of Gregor’s experience itself into the compactness of becoming-insect, the sort of way that it generates the structure of the story through the generation of the text as text akin to the restructuring of Gregor’s body, the sort of undifferentiated internals of the insect body as understood by Kafka’s depiction, a body marked not from the inside by its organs as in the human, but from external structures of interpretation, the carapice dictating the organs within in a sort of reversal of structure.

However, there is a certain bleakness to these stories, to other works of Kafka, found in their alienation and crowdedness, the way that the sensory overload of claustrophobia or incoherence of the lone individual, the unmarked and unknowable, leads to the creation of the Kafkaesque. In Being Ecological, Timothy Morton’s discussion of the picturesque specifically in relation to the Enlightenment discusses the colonial realism of finding the frontier, of the creation of American naturalism through art and from that, forming a concept of country, of the American state and how the natural “belongs” to the American. The picaresque is itself a lie, presents itself with a sharpness and an emergence that is impossible specifically because an environment cannot be perceived in such a fashion except through this picturesque lens. The picturesque is, then, a consequence of ideation, is a framework named for how it creates a hyperreal. The sublime is, then, what Morton ascribes to the romantic: the picturesque is a cliffside, whereas the sublime is climbing the cliff, finding the sediments that encompass the rock layers, the differentiation in the geological and the surreal character of this encounter. The transcendent structure of this, the way in which a kind of apparent essence far more faithful and thus far more true to the character of that which is found within these encounters, the differentiation of scale notwithstanding, makes it something such that the sublime, at-hand encounter is something far more faithful than the picturesque.

In that case, then, there is something to be said of the Kafkaesque, the similarity it shares to the picturesque (as well as something akin to the picaresque, the specific connotations of such a description) as a kind of ideation that is located in no particular place, that loses the sense of realness as part of becoming similar to the Orwellian. In re-reading The Trial and realizing how long it had been since I had first read it, since I had last read it, how much I had remembered the imagery of it and how I had been so deeply influenced it while not quite remembering it as a text, that I had been caught up by the Kafkaesque. Part of the brilliance is that the sublime, the transcendent encounter, is captured the way that the Kafkaesque relies on the notion of Kafka replicated as something other than itself on this new scale, the means by which a sort of lack of acquaintance with Kafka is required for the Kafkaesque to fully take effect. In distance from Kafka, from Kafka’s work, one in fact begins to see the Kafkaesque, the means by which Kafka’s work takes on a character outside itself. That Max Brod is in a sense the origin of Kafka’s work, is the way in which we meet Kafka, in which we encounter him. In the intimacy of Kafka’s work, one finds these moments that, then, can be used to create an aesthetic likeness, in the same way that one creates a vocabulary of Hemingway, or Steinbeck, or other authors whose short works are often contained within the curricula of classes where a study of Metamorphosis is undertaken. The Kafkaesque takes on its character in separation from Kafka, the way in which Kafka’s work defies the sort of characterization that a term such as “Kafkaesque” describes and moreover how it reduces and restructures that which makes Kafka’s work so important.

Certainly, there are means by which one finds the origins of the Kafkaesque, the aforementioned aesthetic signifiers. One is the apparent confusion, inscrutability, the way in which the reader seems to have a sense of purposelessness, moving on without knowing where one is moving, a kind of unrelenting process of transition. In The Trial, Josef K discusses the way in which his lawyer has gone over and over the lack of details about his cases, the sealed records and filed that constitute the operation of the court, the means by which the legal system is specifically closed to lawyers, how K.’s own lawyer goes into an aside about the relationship between judges and lawyers through a bit of legal apocrypha before circling around back to the paradoxical nature of K.’s case, that it is all but decided and yet it has only begun, the matter is finished and over and yet far from any meaningful conclusion. After pondering this, the reader quite deeply embedded in the lawyer’s droning on as K. sits quietly in his office, one is suddenly visited by a manufacturer, one who really should have been allowed to interrupt (as, understandably, Herr K. had only meant to keep out junior employees of the bank, not important clients) who meets with K.’s dispirited corpus and the bank’s vice president before being pulled into the vice president’s office for K. to consider the matter of finding favor within the bank, spending far more time thinking about both his trial and his future after it than his actual work at the bank. The means in which social capital, its exchange, the complex relations at hand are made into points of contention and confusion, then, is in part Kafkaesque: it is not that these characters are entirely inscrutable, but rather rely on a certain sort of reading, a certain kind of understanding of the metastructure of the story, that which is in the text-of-the-text, the relationship between the relationships and lives of the characters that the text continually creates and recreates within itself. On his way out, having neglected to reference it twice before (creating a sense of forgetfulness which the reader may feel some contempt for, but a thankfulness at this final development all the same) the client mentions his friendship with the exact sort of figure the Lawyer believes to exist, that K. imagines reside within the bank itself: the spectres surrounding the Law, the kinds of influencers who may help the case along. K. visits him, a painter named Titorelli in a poor suburb of the city, working in a chokingly hot attic (warm despite the snowfall outside) and a painter of the judges. Just as the Law is kept from those such as Titorelli, those unfit for it and those unable to understand the Law due to the secrecy thereof, the rules for painting judges, the iconography and how Titorelli can envision the throne of a judge despite having not seen it, despite the fact that such a throne may not even exist, points toward a certain aspect of the law, the means by which it creates classes that are unfilled, the way in which law specifically works in order to create new categories of the criminal without the criminal even being aware. The verdict of acquittal is, according to Titorelli, literally only a legend, while the best K. can hope for is an apparent acquittal, where a certain sort of acquittal is granted until the court re-opens the file and finds that it is only this apparent acquittal, a time which can be months or years or hardly as long as it takes the accused to arrive home from the courthouse, or protraction, where the accused, those who influence their case, and the judges enter a sort of conspiracy where the rhizomal structure of the lower court is used to spread the case so thin it becomes at once almost imperceptible, able to be handled like a chronic illness, but so compact it takes on a razor’s edge. In taking his leave, K. is unaware until he is told that he in fact exits yet again into a law office, directly across town from that which he first visited. And so K. returns to his bank. Titorelli’s discussion of protraction versus apparent acquittal, the way the two are differentiated by the Law despite the characteristic differences being preempted by the accused’s own experience of them, resonates in a sense far deeper than most of what one would call Orwellian: it is not in the surveillance that one is caught, as it is not in surveillance that the institutions of the School, the Asylum, the Hospital, and the Prison most readily extend themselves. Rather, it is through the interruption and restructuring of association, the Foucauldian structure of volunteering oneself to surveil oneself, the means by which a lack of coercion is itself coercive through the implication of what sort of coercive measures would be taken if the right choice is not made without a show of duress, the Law becomes contained in one’s own head the way that Titorelli’s understanding of the law of the judges, the appropriate depictions of a Judge for different situations, aesthetic profiles, different sorts of judges is written in his father’s notes, and even in losing those he would have still his own knowledge of those same laws, his own father a sort of judge in his head. The means by which a hierarchy itself places an emphasis on new relationships, on decentralization and a specific lack of hierarchy until it reaches a certain point of arborescent flourishing, then, itself displays a Deleuzean tendency within the emergence of some sort of resolved lack-of-resolution to the Trial at hand. One is continually kept in the court’s orbit, is controlled by the apparatus of this court, and merely negotiates the sort of biopower it exerts upon oneself, the choice between two Oedipal concentrations of possibility. It specifically does this in order to create, for K. and reader alike, a sense of distinction that rings false, akin to the means by which the US maintains its black sites and secret prisons, the “terrorist assemblages” of Puar’s work and the disappearance of “undocumented” immigrants into a continual slow-moving but rapidly-presenting series of hearings and arbitrations that are so vital to the contemporary politics of American hegemony.

The Kafkaesque character of those institutions, however, is not embedded in Kafka himself. He does not create these institutions in order to maintain them, his work is specifically emotive and compassionate in the face of them, against them. Whereas the work of Orwell is best understood in this former fashion, and the human joy of excess in Huxley’s Brave New World reaches a joy that is often absent from Kafka, the sheer feeling with which Kafka’s characters live, the emotiveness of Kafka, belies so many descriptions of a cold and unfeeling image of the Kafkaesque. When one thinks of the Kafkaesque, one thinks of Gregor Samsa dying unmourned, rather than the love that some of his family tried to show him, the way in which he becomes-insect in a fashion that his family at least tacitly accepts in their cohabitation, the sort of rejection that is most painful by some standards, that appeals to those in the closet or those whose identities, disabilities, those whose experiences designate them as a “burden” for the family to bear, from the autistic to the addict, Kafka provides a certain sort of release and relief regarding the structure of identity in this way. Kafka’s compassion is deep, is part of what makes his work so important, and the Kafkaesque often forgets this.

Thus, when the Kafkaesque is mentioned, one would do far better to imagine The Onion’s depiction of Prague’s Kafka International Airport than any actual Kafka work. While certain stylistic and aesthetic choices of The Onion are rather importantly accurate (such as the deeply-embedded symbolism that appears as incoherent signifiers, or the circuitous and poetic tautologies of bureaucratic language) the hostility shown is merely an affect. The Kafkaesque is, at most, a term for anything about Kafka except the works of Kafka himself, a term of passing resemblance rather than a meaningful indicator of allusion or schizophrenic emergence.

#kafka #franz kafka #the trial #kafkaesque #literary criticism

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maluraunderchild · 6 years

Text

We always come back

Okay, I love my brother. If it wasn’t for Darsa I wouldn’t know how to pick a lock or steal anything to survive. He was literally my first teacher. With out him, my mom would have been alone while i was gone. Dar is, he’s family. Like it or not, he’s my brother.

So when I found out he got a summons to see Lochlyn, then refused any contact with me. Ya know, we don’t do that. Him and I have a saying. We don’t leave, we get left. And if someone comes back after leaving, they’re your truest family. I came back. His Da came back. My Ma came back. We’re family. I’m not going to let him slip out of my hands.

Now, I didn’t go diving into the sands of time... at least not at first. First I got my self to pester his advisors and his Dad. After glaring at everyone for ten minutes Bravard finally caved and told me Darsa was pretending to be someone else and had just gotten himself out of prison.

I’m a damn good tracker. Robaj has been honing my skills and it takes me no time to let the sands of time was me to a small room in the middle of old town. This wasn’t one of the super nice rooms, but it was sure nicer than I thought Dar would get while slumming. Seeing him asleep on a cot I coughed a bit.

Darsa is not a heavy sleeper. He never was. It comes from living on the streets and not having a safe place to rest his head. His silver eyes catch the light. At first I think he was angry, furious actually. Then... I think I shocked him. “Shadow?”

“You’ve been avoiding my calls.” I said crossing my arms. “It’s been almost a month Dar. What. The. Fuck?”

He looks around at the frozen area. “How the hell did you fine me.”

“Remember, chronomancer?” I said squatting next to him. “This is what I did after Arrel died.”

Okay, that was a bad thing for me to say. I can see that as soon as the last word left my mouth. His face grew hard and I can see that small vein that pops out when he’s angry. “Well some of us don't move on so fast.”

“You...” Oh no.

I’m suddenly stopped by what he said. “She didn’t.”

“Told me she died last year. That I needed to move on.” He said glaring at me. “I waited a year, trying everything I could, and it failed. How the fuck do I move on from that?”

I get on my knees and lean into him for a hug. He’s slow to accept it, but I think that’s his drowsiness. “Dar.” I muttered as I feel him wrap his long arms around me. “I am so sorry... I.. I. Shit.”

For a moment he’s just there face pressed into my shoulder. I wonder if he’s breathing, then he took in a shaky breath. “i’m alive. I’m not... offing myself like I would have last year. I got you, Malthe, Da, everyone up north.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” I asked pulling away to look at him. His eyes are red from the tears welling up. Gods I knew if they broke apart this would be bad. I had hoped they wouldn’t break...

He takes in a small breath and in an angry motion rubs his eyes. With the evidence of his tears gone he only had his rage... Darsa was always good with rage. I saw it when I was in his gang. When someone got hurt, he would go after the person who did the hurting. I wasn’t allowed to join in those days. But the respect he got... I can guess what he did.

“I’m... going undercover to stop a gang in Duskwood. There’s this, employee of mine. She’s been hounded by them. They tried to pay me off to let her go. I... I’m going to war with them.” He said looking up at me. “Like we used to go to war with the other street gangs. Just this time i have Stonebrill.”

That.. “That doesn’t make sense Dar. Why are you doing it? Why not send Gregor out to do it, or someone else. You’re grieving.”

“Maybe this is how I greave? Yeah?” He said harshly as he glared up at me. “Some of us don’t get to have a funeral for their loved ones. Someone us had to watch, wait, pray to a Light that doesn’t hear you or care. Then we still lose. I let you mourn last year. Let me mourn.”

Oh... fuck. I move in again and hug him tighter. He’s doing the same exact thing I did. “You, you blame yourself don’t you. That you couldn’t saye her? That’s why you’re saving your employee? Dar, oh gods Dar I get it. I do. That’s why I’m a time walker now... Please.” I pull him away enough to look at his face. He looks like shit. Tired, angry at everything around him. “Please Dar. Can I please give you some hope.”

He shrugged. “You can try.”

“It got better for me.” I said honestly taking his hands in mine. “It got a lot better. I started breathing after a month. The first month is hell. You’re in a wash of not knowing which way is up. But you’re making some choices, like I did. It’s going to get better. You’ll find a new way forward. A new way to smile. It’s not going to happen right now. But one day. You’ll smile.”

His hand gripped mine as he looked to be on the verge of tears again. “Did she? Did she love me Shadow? I can’t... I try to remember but I’m so scared I imagined everything.”

Darsa is different than me. When he loves, he does it in a way that throws his whole being into it. I think it comes from being an orphan and not knowing if people will stay. Still, he doesn’t believe people love him as much as he does them.

“Yes, gods she loved you so much. She did. She asked me all about you when you first met. She held onto you so tightly... Never, ever forget that.” I said my heart feeling the same wound he had. The memory of the wound.

He nodded a little bit, a tear finally spilling down. “I won’t forget... I just don’t know how to move on from her. Ya know?”

“You don’t... not at first.” I said thinking about my own heart ache of last year, and now how I’m different. “I’m over a year and a half since Arrel died. If I take into account all the time I’ve been outside of time, if that makes sense.”

Darsa is a smart man and with my vague description he just nodded. “I understand sis. How are you fairing now?”

Do I tell him the truth. Sitting down now fully beside him I shrugged. “I’m a lot better. A lot wiser too. Arrel was a great man, but, he taught me a lot about myself. In a way, he helped me figure out what I really wanted out of life. Out of someone I want to love.”

“And what did you figure out?” He asked now looking curious.

It takes me a bit to admit this. But It’s Darsa. He already knows most of this. “I figured out I need a man who can save himself. So I don’t have to play nanny all the time. I want to care about someone, just... I’ll take explaining social interactions over cross country tracking.”

Oh yeah, the look he gave me. I’m oddly on point with my descriptions. “Okay, who is he?”

“Not now Dar, it’s not even happening yet. Chronomancy stuff. Okay?” I said deflecting the hell out of that question. No need to mention Met right now. Dar knows about Met, he was there during the dinner with Teren.

He nodded looking around the room. “I just got released today.”

“Why the Stocks?” I asked coming back to the original conversation.

“Cause no one is going to expect a noble would degrade himself enough to be thrown in the Stocks.” He said bitterly. “The gang I’m going against. They know my new name. They know Lord Darsa Carrington, Earl of Stonebrill. No one is going to remember Bravard Noman, drug dealer and alchemist. I’m breaking into the gang, find out their weak points... I got an idea, but I need confirmation before asking you to help.”

He was glancing over at me, with a slight plead. How do I ever say no to my brother? It’s rare. I’ll stand in the line of fire for him. Right now, he needs someone standing beside him. “Okay, what is it?”

“I might need you to play hard to get against a void user.” He said quietly, though he really didn’t need to be quiet. “he likes women who are... unbreakable, mentally. He’ll go into a person’s head and muck around in there.”

Oh fuck that, that could be so dangerous. “Dar, that’s harder than you think. Anthion did that to me over and over again.”

“And now? Now you know how to defend yourself. You can use it as a test. Show him all the crazy shit you’ve seen.” He said with a small smile. “You’ll blow his mind and get him off of Kat.”

“Kat?” I asked not being sure who the name was connected to.

“The lady I’m helping.”

“The employee?” I stopped blinking. Yeah, he’s using this whole gang thing to find closure that he couldn’t get with Lochlyn. I get it... It sucks, but I get it. “I see... Well, give me more details, and actually fucking pick up when I call.”

“It’s not going to be so easy.” He said rubbing his eyes. “I need to be undercover. I can’t carry around a communicator.”

“Then I’ll fucking writer and you burn the letters before you send one back, okay?” I said nudging him hard this time. “You don’t get to go silent on me. Okay?”

He looked around the room throwing a hand out. “Like I can fucking stop you.” He said scoffing at me. “I’ll make sure I write back, and burn the letters...” Pausing Darsa looked down at me, his eyes hurt. “I miss us being around each other.”

“Fuck, I do too...” I slipped my arms around him to give him another hug. “Make sure you eat.”

“When I can afford it.” He quipped. “I’m pretending to be me before Loch. I need to be the me before Loch.”

With one last squeeze I let him go and got up. “Fine... But I’m going to worry about you. And if you suddenly find food next to you, eat it, I left it for you.”

Since landing in this room I didn’t see too many warm smiles form him. But this time, he does smile, and it’s warm... Like how he would smile when he knew someone cared about him. “You are the best sister a man could have, ya know that?”

“I better be. I have competition now. Malthe is not taking the title. She can be the cutest. But I was here first.” I said pointing a finger at him in mock warning. I don’t have a vendetta on the munchkin. Honestly I’m glad Darsa’s Dad has someone to take care of.

He nodded and settled back down. “So, what do we do here.”

“Lay back down and I’ll be gone.” I said with a smirk. Magic is a weird thing like that. Chronomancy is even weirder. As he lays down I don’t even take a moment longer than I have to. I pull him to of my time lock and slide myself back to my current place and time. I’m honestly worried about him, but at least he knows he’s always got someone wanting to help him. I mean, that’s what we do after all. We might leave, but we always come back.

((Mentions: @darsacarrington, @kat-lockhart))

#Brothers SL #Family Time #Sometimes you just have to grump at a bastard

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foreveratlas · 3 years

Text

The Late Birthday

This post is a present for someone important to me. Though it is a little late, it’s a lot more effort than my usual Poem a Year tradition. Plus, it helped me unlock some of my writers block. Enjoy!

Loren

I had looked up at the analog clock posted over the door of the break room. It read 10:43pm. I was absolutely exhausted, which was only amplified by the reminders nagging me in the back of my head in regards to Elena’s birthday. I was panic-stressing, pacing the room around the four round tables; and despite her anxiety, and yet, still due for another hour of work. Due to recent shrink going on in the department, I was being forced to stay late.

This was creating within me, a sense of worry. Of course, I had wished Elena a Happy Birthday, promised to try to be home soon, but when the announcement was sprung earlier that day that everyone with any form of authority in the store would be staying over, all I could do was text Elena and groan loudly in the women’s restroom.

I needed to make time move faster, and I needed to get home so I could prep everything. In the breakroom fridge sat a cheesecake, made fresh that day by the bakery; the best cherries that were available; and a package of precooked barbecue brisket (easily heated to temp in the microwave). But I was going to miss the entire day at this rate! I wasn’t going to be able to celebrate with my problematic favorite person until the next day, and I didn’t even know if our schedules aligned.

I sighed loudly as my pacing continued.

A cough returned my aspiration. “Yeah, it’s horse shit they make us do this.” Mike, the manager of Produce and Snacks wiped his chin on a handkerchief. “It’s not like it’s gunna accomplish piss-all.” He was an amusing character with a big brushy mustache, and the gaunt composure of a cattle driver, but he seemed wholesome. He never seemed to have a problem with myself or with Elena when she was still with the store.

“Do they do this often? They claimed they found a lot of shrink in my department but--”

“Horse shit,” he sneered again. “You just made it to supervisor, but what it is they just want the labor of the salary people to go over the shit because they don’t wanna pay the hourly kids.”

Loren scoffed. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to have us direct them to do that during their normal shifts on top of their regular duties?”

“One would think, but this aint Rocket Science Academy. Smarter minds have come here to die.” I shuddered at the idea and looked away to see the clock switch to 10:50. As good a time as any to clock back in and get back out there.

On the floor, the time was even more excruciatingly slow. I took every second I could spare to check my phone’s digital clock. And as the seconds ticked by, I began to wonder if I would even be able to beat the traffic and get home in time. This new stress was confounded even as my department’s manager came up and said, “We may need you to stay till one.”

“One?” I half screamed and cried at the same time, causing several other employees around them to stop their tasks and stare. “I was told eleven, and then 11:30. Why One now?”

“Corporate wants us to stay for an all nighter.”

“Then I expect my compensation to be reflective of these hours. I may be salary but you are clearly overworking me.”

My boss quickly moved to shush me, waving his hands in the air, “You can’t say that!”

“Why not? I’m just stating a fact.”

“Because it could lead to a write up.” I gave my boss a face that made it very apparent that the prospect was very much not what I wanted. And partially, I didn’t believe him. I rarely believed any of the jargon that the company had the audacity to put out there. It was pretty obvious when we are treated with dignity and when something seems fishy. He recanted, “I don’t want you to get written up over something stupid. You know you can take the accrued additional time off on another day.”

I made an emotional display and pouted vividly as he spoke and finally said, “But it’s my girlfriend’s birthday.” I did my best to show what should have been puppy dog eyes. But to honestly, in hindsight, I don’t know how to use my charms to seduce men.

Luckily, my boss sighed and said, “I’ll see what I can do. But for now, no promises. And if I tag you out, you are gone. No dawdling. No sticking around. You go.”

“I gotta get my stuff though,” I interjected.

“Then get it and go!”

I kept working as we had agreed and kept looking to my boss for some form of relief. And slowly 11:30 came. And went. And then 11:35. 11:40. 11:45. And finally at 11:49. My boss passed as I was in the process of counting belts (in obvious lackluster) and whispered, “Run now, Vale, you won’t get a second chance.”

I thrust my clipboard into my boss’s hands and sprinted past him, going full speed of almost thirteen miles an hour. I ran hard, letting my Sketcher-Relaxation loafers get torn up from the exertion. After rounding the first set of shelving that made up the aisle for the electronics, adjacent to my own department, I turned sharp left, sprinting as hard as I could. The breakroom doors were within my sight, just beyond the medicine and optometry departments. I turned at the pharmacy aisle one more time and went in a direct line to the door, hurdling over a cart filled with Tylenol products.

I rammed my shoulder into the door, rushed into the breakroom and moved to the refrigerator that housed the food I had purchased earlier that day. I grabbed the bag and the cheesecake and turned on my heel, just as the District Manager stepped out of the restroom on the opposite wall. That’s when I froze, suddenly well aware that no one was suppose to be leaving earlier than one.

“Excuse me,” he said pointedly, his tone very firm. The district manager walked across the breakroom, smiled beneath his thick red beard and said, “Mm, is it someone’s birthday today?” He looked down to see the custom cheesecake in the white box.

I nodded, “My girlfriend’s,” I offered almost shyly.

His eyes seemed to light up at that. “My husband loves cheesecake,” he announced, matter-of-factly. “Well, go, go celebrate. Don’t know why they’re making you all do this shit just because I’m here this week.”

“Wait, are you saying we don’t have to do this busy work?”

He shook his head. “It’s just burning hours, really. Corporate tells them not to do this but Stacy always demands this kind of thing when myself, the regional manager, or the V-P is in town.”

“That seems so superfluous.”

“Good word choice. Tell me more good words next time you’re on the clock,” He looked down to see my name, “Low-Ren. Oops, sorry, Loren.” He ushered me out the door at that, but it was too late. That exchange had brought the clock from 11:50 to 11:55. There was no way I could make it home in time. But, dammit I was going to die trying.

Elena

When Loren woke up that morning and wished Me a happy birthday, I was confused for a moment, but pleasantly surprised. Truthfully, I hadn’t celebrated my birthday in years, probably not since before my mother left when I was still a teen. Because of such traumatic events that occurred after, I simply chose to avoid the very prospect of my birthday. I did my best to do anything other than celebrate, often avoiding the triggers as my therapist would say. But that didn’t always work, unfortunately. But at least I had Loren this year to help make the event a little more bright.

Though, a thought imbedded into my brain. Why should we be the only people celebrating? I smiled at the thought of hosting a small gathering and moved to look for my phone in the sheets of our bed. When I finally did discover it in its resting place between mattress and wall, I was dismayed to learn that I had no messages or greetings or social media posts wishing me a happy birthday. I frowned at the thought that everyone didn’t know, but I went ahead and decided to text Alison.

Loren is throwing a birthday patty for me, she texted. Shit, Party*

A party you say? Alison replied. Happy Birthday! I didn’t even know it was today! A party sounds like fun.

Did you forget lol? I don’t think it was going to be anythimg major. Dammit, anything*. I continued, But I wanted to invite as many people as possible to enjoy it with sus. Ughhh, us*.

Let me see what I can do to help, Allision responded. I’ll even let Gregor know. You just focus on making the place pretty.

I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an insult or a reminder that we lived in clutterfuck. A royal clutterfuck. I sighed at the thought, but she was right, the apartment was more than a stye and needed its fair share of TLC before it could be decent enough to host guests. So, I got up, got dressed, kissed Loren on the cheek as she passed in the hall between the bedroom and bathroom, and proceeded to do my morning routines.

Long after Loren had left for work, I sat in our living room looking about the carnage of the living situation. When I had lived alone, this was hardly messy. Now take out containers and magazines were strewn about. Dishes were piled in the sink in the kitchen, and mail was accumulating on various surfaces. Coats, shirts, and pants found homes on the back of chairs; three bags of garbage had been left to sit by the door but never taken out; and I was all but positive that the air filter for the AC unit was caked to the point of no return.

How did the apartment manage to get in such a state? I wondered as I took stock of everything that had gone wrong in our cohabitation. For the first time ever, I truly wasn’t even sure if we owned a vacuum between the both of us. Was there even a mop or a swiffer? How about a duster?

“Start with what you can do, don’t worry about the other stuff until you get to them,” I said aloud and moved to the kitchen. Grabbing a trashbag, I set about the house, picking up various articles of trash and cleaning each room of their rubbish in a quick and painless manner. The trashbag was large, able to accommodate months of accumulation, and was even able to fit the garbage from their bathroom and bedroom. I set the bag outside, came back in and continued my home improvement journey.

Next on the list was dishes, which not only had a thin film of dust, but emitted a very cautionary smell. Thank the dear Lord we had a dishwasher! And with some sanitary gloves from our stash of fun stuff, I managed to rinse and load the dishes into the washer quickly enough. The apartment maintenance went by pretty quickly thankfully. Since I got on the right meds months prior, everything seemed like this was living life with Cheat Codes. Even when some emotional lows slipped through the cracks, I was luckily able to bounce back pretty quickly now.

I had just replaced the air filter when there was a knock at the door. Before I could even get to it, Alison burst inside, hugging me tightly, “Oh, I thought you might need my help so I came over right after work, but it looks like you pretty much got a handle on it!”

I smiled sheepishly, “Yeah I didn’t know how bad it actually was. Sorry you had been subjugated to that in the past.” I looked off to the side sheepishly but either Alison intentionally didn’t notice or she did her best change the mood.

“Oh no worries, now let’s talk party!” She ran back outside and returned shortly with several bags with the dollar store logo on them. Streamers, balloons, noise makers, and more filled them to the brim. We set to work blowing the balloons with the hand pump she brought and then I took the step ladder from the hall closet and began stapling the streamers around the apartment. Before long, the apartment looked like a birthday party dream for a teen. I wasn’t sure if the irony pleased me or made me question our motive. But Alison certainly was happy with the result. She was still pumping air into balloons when the first knock came.

Gregor and his roommates, Talia and Vox were the first people to show up. I greeted Talia and Gregor with tight hugs and then waved to Vox who wasn’t comfortable with physical touch in contrast to their roommates.

“Happy Birthday!” Gregor offered. “I had no idea!”

“I had totally forgotten myself,” I laughed.

“Well with the whirlwind romance between you and Loren, I imagine forgetting your birthday is not the worst thing,” Talia noted.

Vox sipped their glass of water they took from the kitchen, “Where is Loren?”

“At work. To be honest, she remembered. It was so sweet of her. I bet she planned to do something small, so I wanted to do something big. We can do something between the two of us later when everyone leaves.”

Alison chortled and elbowed me playfully, “Ehh, ehh, something between the two of you, huh? Going to have a little bit of fun, eh? Going to wait till you’re alone, huh? Wink, wink; nudge, nudge; say no more!”

Vox spit their drink.

Guests began to arrive steadily, and by the end of that first hour there must have been thirty people who knew Loren and myself piled into our home, chatting vibrantly, drinking from the cases of beer they brought. At one point Alison had Gregor and Vox bring out the cake they had been hiding in the back Gregor’s car around 10pm, and the entire party stopped and sang.

But by that point I was miserable.

I had received the text from Loren earlier explaining that work was making her stay over. I knew it was bullshit from when I worked there. They made us do it all the time when the district manager or the regional manager were in town. It was just busy work designed to make us feel like we were grunts and show to corporate that we had the hardest working people in the district. Really, it was all for show. But knowing that fact didn’t stop me from being absolutely beside myself with depression as it slipped through the cracks of my medicine induced armor.

“You ok?” Alison said as she handed me a piece of cake.

I sighed. Somewhere, someone turned off the music and in that moment I realized that the chatter and the jubilance came to a gentle quiet and people began to ask if I was ok. “You know,” I finally offered, “The majority of you knew me as a complete monster but now? Now you all are here, with me, celebrating today. I shouldn’t be sad, but I am.”

Talia sang, “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to,” and there was a light chuckle. I explained that Elena had to work and there was a quiet acknowledgement.

“This has to do with Loren not being here because of work, right?” Alison asked. I nodded.

Then Vox spoke up, “Hey uhm, I know we’ve only been friends on social media for so long but, I think it’s important to tell you that though it’s late, you still will be able to celebrate with her.”

I looked up, “Well yeah, but I just wish she could be here right now. I don’t think she will make it home in time for the actual date.”

Vox smiled, “Well, that’s not quite what I mean but, here take a look at this. . .”

Loren

I stepped through the door of our apartment at 12:15 am, holding the cheesecake in one hand, and the bag of groceries in the other. Elena sat on the couch alone and I realized there were party streamers and balloons all over the apartment, and the trash we had managed to collect on various surfaces was all gone.

“Baby I am so sorry,” I cried as I sat the stuff down on the coffee table in front of her.

“Hun, it’s ok it’s not that big of a deal,” Elena responded, more comforting me than anything else.

“Work was a nightmare, it was all a racket.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Why didn’t you warn me about these fake audits they do to try to impress corporate.”

“I honestly totally forgot about it. But they don’t usually spring it on you unless the big-wig is there already.”

“He was, but that’s besides the point.” I sat down next to her and opened the cheesecake container. Elena smiled widely.

“My favorite,” she cooed as she reached toward it.

“Let me get some forks, hun--” a knock at the door.

“It’s literally after midnight, who could that be?” Elena asked with a smile. Instead of going to the kitchen I went to the door, which was then nearly kicked open by Alison, and in came behind her was Gregor, his roommates, and about 30 other people, filling out our apartment to the brim.

I started laughing, “What is all this?”

Elena stood up and scooped a tiny bit of cheesecake with her forefinger, she moved carefully around the guests and wiped the cream-cheese on my nose. “Guess what babe, you didn’t miss it.”

“Happy Birthday, Elena!” Everyone said almost simultaneously, and then with Gregor’s boisterous voice, were led into song. “Happy birthday to you--”

I stood there dumbfounded until Elena said, “Babe, you weren’t late. You were a day early!,” She laughed as the song continued.

“Well then,” I responded. “Happy birthday, dear Elena. Happy birthday to you,” I sang with the close of the song, ending my vocal talents by kissing my girlfriend on the lips. She smiled into my mouth and returned the kiss, wrapping her arms tight around me, The cream cheese smudged between our faces, and around us people cheered and the sounds of a party ensued. But in that moment, I was lost in the focus of Elena’s lips and the surrealness of where I was in that moment, celebrating the birthday of my favorite person.

Though, this may be super late, happy birthday to my best friend; my favorite person.

#fiction #short fiction #original fiction #birthday #lgbtq

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gregkatepetegowest · 3 years

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The Last Stop (Kinda): Louisville, KY

Okay, we have been home for nearly a month now and life has caught up with me. BUT I need to give the people what they want so here come the final two blog posts.

We ended our grand adventure in Louisville, KY. We knew we didn’t really want to be back in Nashville for July 4. Lots of extra tourists here, crowded bars, girls screaming on pedal taverns, etc. I didn’t have to start work until July 6 but wanted to be home July 5 to give myself a day to try to adjust to becoming a functioning adult again. Pete had never been to Louisville before and it’s a short 2.5 hour drive to Nashville so we figured it would be a cool spot to be for the fourth and the end of our journey.

One of Pete’s buddies lives in Louisville and we had plans to see Greensky Bluegrass on the waterfront with them that evening (July 3). We left STL late morning with plans to arrive to downtown Louisville around 3 pm. UNTIL we realized Louisville is EST, whoops! The drive from STL was only about four hours and we high tailed it so we would have time to check-in, walk Greg, shower and meet up Pete’s friend before the show. We stayed at The Moxy, which is dog friendly, a little swanky, but relatively cheap because it’s a boutique hotel (AKA small). Personally, I love boutique hotels and other than the room being a little small for two adults and an adult sized dog it was totally perfect for us. At this point in the trip/year we were back to hot ass southern weather (ugh ugh ugh) so our dog walk was short and sweet.

We met Pete’s friend Dave and his wife Kathleen as a brewery just under a mile away so we were nice and sweaty from our walk by the time we arrived. We had a drink and dinner and met some of Dave’s friends all of whom were very cool. I found out later that one of them had been Cody Rigsby’s roommate in NY for years. So very upsetting that I didn’t know this when I was in her presence. Storing many questions in my brain to ask her when we are back in Louisville next.

After dinner, we headed down to the waterfront where the concert was being held. I used to visit Louisville for work four times and a year but hadn’t been there is years and a lot has changed. The waterfront area has been completely redone and is now a huge park with lots of open space for hanging out, concerts, etc. The city did an amazing job with this transformation. Greensky was really cool. Naturally, I had never heard their music before, like many of the concerts that Pete brings me to, but I love bluegrass and live music so I had a blast. After Greensky, we walked back to The Moxy to take Greg out. We ended up grabbing a drink from the hotel bar and sitting outside with Greg which was great.

Louisville day two started with a 9 am class at Shed 415. Dave’s wife, Kathleen, owns the gym (she is a badass, clearly) and naturally after having a couple beverages I told her I’d LOVE TO TRY IT OUT! The next morning I was not quite as excited to run on a treadmill and lift weights for an hour but I knew it’s what Pete and I both needed so we put our shades on, walked Greg, chugged water and headed over to the gym. The class was great! Similar format to Barry’s Bootcamp but way more mellow, inclusive, no bros with shirts off, etc. Really, really loved it and the class flew by. If you find yourself in Louisville, I recommend you go and support Kathleen by taking a class at one of her studios (Shed 415).

After class, Pete and I felt like brand new people, and it was time to refuel. We went back to The Moxy to grab Gregor and then met Kathleen and Dave for coffee and breakfast (lox on a bagel, so good).

After breakfast Pete, Greg and I headed to PG&J's Dog Park Bar. We wanted to hit it before it got any hotter and we were still dirty from our class. PG&J’s is just as the name states. An indoor/outdoor bar where you can bring your dog and let them off leash to peruse the entire indoor/outdoor facility. The sign in process took quite a while so we sweat some more while we stood outside waiting. Finally, it was our turn! We got Greg all signed in and I was feeling really happy to give him some time off leash after being in the hotel most of the evening the night before.

If you know Greg well, you know he likes to play rough. He also really loves to be chased by his dog friends. Off leash he is USUALLY well-mannered meaning he doesn’t fight with other dogs despite their breed (on leash he has a major problem with doodle breeds, which has been great since non-shedding dogs have been ALL THE RAGE for the last few years). I digress.

We enter the bar section, which is indoor, and I let Greg off his leash. Basically, from that moment onward he creates complete chaos. He starts by basically spinning out once he’s off leash. The floors were concrete with a finish so a tad slippery for dogs and as soon as he heard his leash being unclipped, he tried to sprint away towards all the other dogs as fast as he possibly could. Pete and I looked at each other and immediately headed to the bar for a drink. While waiting for our drink, we could see Greg psychotically running around the dog park, up to other dogs, peeing on numerous items including the leg of a chair SOMEONE WAS SITTING IN. We really didn’t know what to do. Technically, he wasn’t doing anything WRONG he was just causing a ruckus. We decided the best move was to pretend he wasn’t our dog. This was working out well until he pooped and I had to pick it up. We were outed.

After 20 minutes or so, he mellowed out a little but began pestering one dog in particular. He wants this dog, another GSD breed, to chase him but this dog really doesn’t want to and finds him annoying and is exhibiting all the signs dogs exhibit when they are annoyed. Growling, raising his hair up, etc. Greg doesn’t care. He wants him to chase him and continues to pester. The dog park has a “ranger” whose job is walk around with a water bottle full of rocks and shake it when the dogs start to fight or become aggressive with each other. Before long, I hear the bottle shaking noise and I know it must be Greg. Sure enough, it was, but since he wasn’t the one being aggressive he isn’t in any trouble! Long story short, Greg caused the other dog to have to go on a “five-minute leash break” and eventually the dog and his peeps just left all together. Ugh.

By now, Pete and I realized what we thought would be fun and relaxing was not either of those things. We had to finish our drink STAT and get out of there. We tried to drink fast but it wasn’t fast enough. Greg had found his next “friend” in an adorable Border Collie who he decided he had a crush on. SO EMBARSSING WHOSE CHILD IS THAT?! This poor dog just kept trying to run away, for good reason. As we were leaving, we met his person who was really cool and didn’t seem to be upset that our dog was trying to sexually assault his dog. I don’t think we will be back at PG&J’s anytime (ever again) soon. Now you know why there are no photos from this experience! However, the concept is really cool, was super clean and well maintained with lots of room for dogs and people so if you have a normal dog and you’re in Louisville I would definitely visit this establishment!

After our 45 minutes of fun at the dog park, we headed back to the hotel to shower up. We spent the rest of the day walking around downtown getting snacks and drinks. We stopped by Garage Bar, Feast, La Bodeguita de Mima and Angel's Envy distillery. Highly recommend all of these joints but Angel's Envy was definitely the highlight. We did a super basic tasting but learned a ton and Angel's Envy is very tasty bourbon (coming someone who typically DOES NOT like bourbon straight). From Angel's Envy we headed to the waterfront to secure a firework watching location. Greg was allowed at the waterfront and could care less about fireworks which worked out great. After fireworks, we headed back to The Moxy to relax before heading home to Nashville the next morning.

The next morning, we checked out and walked all along the river front. I couldn’t get over how much Louisville had changed (for the better) since I’d been there last and I truly cannot wait to go back and visit. Next time we visit Louisville, we plan to much more proactive about making tasting/tour reservations at the downtown bourbon distilleries.

I was starting to get majorly depressed about having to resume normal life the next day so we decided to delay that feeling just slightly by stop at Mammoth Cave National Park on our way home. Kudos to Pedro for finding this park for us! Had no idea such a cool spot was so close to home. This park is home to the longest cave system known in the world. Uh, cool! We learned many cool facts along our walk through the park which you can also find here if you’re interested: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mammoth_Cave_National_Park

We didn’t go into Mammoth Cave itself because we had Greg with us but we did see some of the smaller caves which had bats hibernating in them right now! When we were there, the temperature outside with in the low 80 range but the temperature in the cave was in the high 50 range! When we walked by the entrance to Mammoth Cave it kept like standing in front of an open refrigerator door. So wild and a great way to take a break mid-hike and cool down. We have plans to head back to this park, sans dog, so we can really explore the caves more.

From here, we headed back to Nash-Vegas which was only an hour and a half drive. It was weird driving towards the city and seeing the Nashville skyline. Since we had absolutely no food at our house and we were not about to grocery shop our first hour back in town, we stopped at our favorite dive in our neighborhood for a late lunch/early dinner. Suddenly, it kind of felt like we never left!

I’ll wrap this thing up with a few of our trip highlights and lowlights for the last post. This has been the most asked question from friends/family since we returned!

#louisville #louisvillekentucky #kentucky #sabbatical #roadtrippin #roadtrip #lifeontheroad

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authoressskr · 7 years

Text

I’m Gonna Shoot You Down, Jesse James

Written for: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian’s Divas of Storytelling Challenge

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Song: Just Like Jesse James by Cher

Characters: Reader (Hey, that’s you!), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Language, ugh, can’t think of anything else now except maybe subpar writing…

Summary: A brokenhearted witch decides to kill those who have dumped their significant other. You need to find her and gank her before anyone else dies. Too bad Dean is being an overprotective bitch.

Tagging: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @lyndsay88 @thewhiterabbit42 @sdavid09 @lucis-unicorn

** Do Not Post/Copy/Share Anywhere, On Any Other Platforms, Without My Permission**

“So, I think I found a case.” Sam begins, joining Dean and yourself at the library’s first table, easing himself down into a vacant chair beside you. “Four men and one woman have had their hearts ripped out of their chests.”

“Werewolf?” Dean asks, looking up from his own laptop.

“Sounds like it.” You lean over, scanning through the article he has up.

“Uh, Sam?”

“Humm?” You tap at the bottom of the article.

“You read all this article?”

“No, just saw the headline and first paragraph.”

“You should have read it all. You’re really losing your touch, Sam. And you didn’t start with ‘So, get this’.” Sam gave you patented Sam Winchester bitch face while Dean chuckled. “One death was outside the club in full view of three witnesses, the other in her locked apartment - alone. This guy died in his car. Dude number three left the club to pick up his brother at work and his brother watched as he fell to the ground, leaning against his car, cigarette still in hand. And the last guy, one Kent Chandler, dropped dead at a liquor store. So, not sure that a werewolf could do that.”

“Witch?” Sam offers, pulling the laptop back in front of him, scanning through the full article. “Well shit. It’s got to be magic related.”

“We know how I feel about witches.” Dean murmurs, taking a long drink from his coffee before closing his laptop. “Well, get the witch killing bullets and the box of gloves and meet in the garage in thirty.”

“Gloves?” Sam asks, looking sideways at you, brow furrowed.

“Witches are nasty, man. Just grab the gloves.” You chuckle at Dean’s words then rise, heading for your room, hearing Sam faintly say “Shit, how’d I miss that?”

—

Luckily, the case was just a short four hour and some change drive from the Bunker, and you all got into town a little before one pm. After a quick stop at a motel to change - you refused to change in a truck stop bathroom, just outright refused - it was straight into Fed mode, which revealed that the hearts had exploded out of their chests. You may or may not have smirked at Sam after that fact was revealed.

And after thanking the very rude coroner, who smelled of tobacco and too much Axe body spray, you all exited the hospital, Sam and Dean exchanging those damn mind-melding looks they always shared.

“What?” You huffed, pausing at the Impala with your fingers brushing the chrome handle, looking from Dean beside you to Sam across the hood.

“Seems familiar.” Sam answered, bracing his elbows on the hood.

“That was Famine. When the couple ate each other.”

“The couple what?”

“Famine made them hungry for love.” Dean explained. “It was all-consuming, thus, ya know, they consumed.” A look of revulsion crossed your face.

“That’s disgusting and very disturbing.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean agreed, clicking his tongue afterward. “What about a borrower witch?”

“None of the corpses have been reanimated. And if it was a borrower witch, why destroy the hearts?”

“Were-pire?”

“Again, why destroy the hearts?” Dear Lord, this could go on forever.

“Let’s just start at the club. That’s the common link they all shared, well the only one I could find.” You suddenly have both their attention, Dean pursing his lips as he gave you an appreciative nod.

“Good job, darlin’.”

“Darlin’.”& You tease, watching Dean’s mouth open and close before you open the door and slip into the backseat. Sam’s soft chuckle fills the car for a split second before the Impala’s loud rumble drowns it out.

—

The manager, Trixie, informs Dean that yes, all the victims did visit the club before their untimely deaths. But that she’s been cooperative with the local police and she’d be more than happy to help with whatever he may need. Of course, she would. If it involved being on her back.

You roll your eyes and wander over to the bartender who is prepping for tonight’s opening behind the bar, leaving Sam with his brother.

“Hello. I’m Agent Tyler. Just wanted to see if you’d seen anything suspicious leading up to any or all the deaths? Maybe you noticed something about the gentleman who died just outside?”

“Well, Agent, sexy first name, by the way, it’s like I told the -”

“Are you really going to make me go back and read every single statement instead of just telling me?” His chuckle is deep, amused.

“Naw, I’ll tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spend all night reading those statements instead of talkin’ to little old me. I’d like to know your first name though, get a bit friendly.”

“Uh-huh. You tell me yours first.”

“Gregor.”

“If your last name is Clegane, then I’m obliged to tell your brother where you are.” His laughter gets the attention of Dean, Sam, and Trixie, all of whom frown at you two.

“Oh, we’re in trouble now.”

“Pretty par for the course for me. I’m Y/N.”

“Pretty. Real pretty.”

“Thank you. Now, Gregor, anything you can remember? Nothing is too small.”

“Well the guy who died outside, he had - I don’t know - a half dozen shots of tequila before he did the open mic slash karaoke thing we have Wednesday through Saturday. Sunday through Tuesday nights we have a house band. He was celebrating being single again, he did mention that before he sang. A couple women approached him, and he got their numbers before he went outside to take a phone call. One of the waitresses, Darcy, was outside having a smoke. Didn’t see anything, since she was by the side door of the bar, but said she heard something squelch loud then screaming. Might wanna talk to her. She comes in about seven.” You nod, making bulletins about each fact Gregor had given. “And you should give me your card,” He flashes an easy, flirty smile. “In case I remember anything else.”

“Did all the victims do karaoke?” You ask, pulling out one of the fake FBI cards from your inner jacket pocket, holding it out to Gregor.

“Not that I can remember - just him.” He takes the card, flashing another smile before winking and tucking your card into his breast pocket.

Turning to head back to the boys, you nearly run smack into Dean.

“Whoa. Personal bubble.”

“We don’t have personal bubbles.” But he isn’t looking at you, and shooting a look over your shoulder you don’t see anything. Sam is sporting an amused look when you look to him for clarification. Whatever.

“When I’m all covered in goo and various substances you suddenly have a personal bubble. And I think I got a new lead. Or at least a way to draw whoever it is out.”

“Y/N.” You turn to find Gregor’s returned and is leaning on the bar top. “Trixie keeps the sign-up sheets for a couple weeks. Might be helpful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mountain.”

“Anytime, Agent.”

“If you’re done.” Dean growls, his hand on the small of your back pushing you forward quickly.

“Who knew the reason those pretty eyes of yours were green was ‘cause they’re filled with jealousy.”

“I. Am. Not. Jealous.”

“Sure.” Sam agrees, sarcasm evident in his tone.

“And I’m Aphrodite.” You reply snidely, sidestepping his pushy self and heading back over to where Trixie stood.

“Hi. Dean here wanted to know if we could have copies of the sign-up sheets for the past couple weeks? He’s very thorough.”

“Oh, I bet he is. Give me two shakes and I’ll be right out with them.” Of course, she doesn’t respond to you, but to Dean, flashing overly white teeth as she saunters out of the main bar area.

“Now who’s jealous?” Dean breathes against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and an errant giggle from your lips.

“Stop that!” You hiss. “Now isn’t the time for your flirting. Or breathing on my ear when you know that makes me laugh!” You elbow him gently. “And I’m not jealous, Dean. Just shocked at your lack of standards.” He’s got that smug smile plastered on when Trixie returns and you don’t bother to stay, turning on your heel with Sam close behind.

—

As luck would have it, just the man, Eric Root, sang that night.

But the local police were on it. They’d investigated their personal lives pretty damn well and each one of the victims had just broken up with their significant other.

And said significant others all sang the night before or the night of each respective death.

“Ha!” You shout triumphantly, pushing your notepad over to Sam who sat across from you. “It’s a witch. The witch is offing the people who hurt the singers.” Dean rises from where he was sitting against the headboard, looking over Sam’s shoulder at your notes. He makes a noncommittal noise as Sam begins typing away. “What? It makes sense! Each of the hurt parties sang a sad or powerful song and then the person that broke up with them suddenly has their heart expelled from their chest. We need to go tonight and sing. It’ll draw the witch out and we gank it.”

“Uh, we don’t sing.” You roll your eyes, standing as you smile down at Sam.

“I can.”

“No.” Dean’s voice is firm, like a father telling a child they can’t have more ice cream.

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist.” He smirks and reaches forward to wrap an arm around your waist.

“Dean Fucking Winchester, if you don’t remove your damn hands I will kick your ass into next week. Being your normal, flirty asshole self is difficult enough to handle without you telling me what I can and can’t-do!” You shove his arms off you, then shove him backward with a glare before grabbing your purse and phone from the table and storming out the door.

—

She’d returned nearly an hour later, refusing to look at Dean as she grabbed a change of clothes from her duffle and locking herself in the bathroom.

“Dude, you should apologize.”

“What for?”

“Come on, Dean. You know why. You love her.” Dean scoffs, finishing his beer. “You’ve been flirting with her since we met her. And she has yet to succumb to anything you’ve thrown at her. She’s not like the other girls you pick up at the bar or diner or wherever, Dean. Y/N flirts with you to deflect. She likes you, you idiot. But you gotta stop handling her with kid gloves. The last couple cases you’ve been more overbearing than usual. Especially with her. She’s been hunting since she was 22. Y/N is more than capable. I know you don’t want her to get hurt - neither do I - but you can’t…”

“I know!” Dean snaps, tossing the empty bottle across the room into the trash can. He runs his hands through his hair, giving it a few sharp tugs. “The last couple cases - man, I don’t want to be like Dad was with you, but I can’t fucking help it. When we were hunting those ghouls in Boise and they sliced her arm, so close to her artery, I panicked. What if she’d died, Sam? Who is going to hang their underwear all over the bathroom? Who’s gonna be up at 2 in the morning, a cold cup of tea on the table because she fell asleep before finishing it again? Who else is going to out-lore you? All those thoughts just rushed forward - and they haven’t left, Sam.”

“Dean, we have all had close calls. You and I have died more than our fair share. We’ll keep her safe, just like we always do. But, you gotta tell her, Dean. And we have to let her do this for this case.”

The door swung open, revealing Y/N - her hair was tousled, lips painted a dark pink and jeans hugging every curve while a dark gray top clung to her breasts, scooped down to give a good view.

“I’ll see you at the club.” She muttered, walking to her purse beside her duffle, searching through it for her ID and a couple twenties. When she turned around, Sam was standing in front of the door. “Come on Sam, not you too.”

“No, princess, we’re all going together.” Dean answered, shrugging on his jacket before heading towards the door, handing Sam his before shooting you that cocky smile, but his eyes weren’t the same. “If you play your cards right, I’ll bring you home with me.” Y/N took the olive branch, reaching out to give Dean’s upper arm a firm squeeze.

“I think you mean if you play your cards right, Winchester.” Sam rolled his eyes but flashed a tight smile as you brushed past them and settled into the Impala. But the tense atmosphere was still there, lingering on the edges.

—

“So, I’ve narrowed it down to these two women.” You hand the pictures to Sam, leaning on the back of the seat. “They both were there, doing karaoke, every night that someone died. I double checked the lists. These two, Marcia and Ashley, are consistently there.” You take a deep breath before huffing it out. “You know, I kinda wish there was a witch-detector spell. Make the job a whole lot easier.”

Sam huffs out his agreement before handling the pictures to Dean. Dean looks them over then nods, pushing them across the seat back to Sam.

“You say the word, Y/N, and we corner the witch and gank her. Got it? Don’t -”

“Put myself in unnecessary danger. I know Dean. You’ve been playing that particular record for the last month and a half. I’m always careful.” You reach out, squeezing his left shoulder, feeling him relax minutely under your fingertips. You withdraw your hand, easing back against the seat and smirking. “Maybe you’ve just gotten sweet on me, Dean Winchester.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

Those five words shoved the knife in deep. And that stupid, patronizing nickname he called waitresses and a few snippy monsters. The name he had never called you before.

This… This ache now flared up inside you.

It was worse, so much worse than all the flirty banter, all the touching, fuck - everything else.

Sweetheart.

You were happy when the car pulled up outside the club, throwing open the door and escaping from the Winchesters and those five stupid words that were rattling around in your head.

—

You made your way to the bar, desperately needing a shot of anything to slow down the whirling of thoughts in your head. You should have known better than to have feelings for Dean “I Don’t Know How to Keep it in My Pants” Winchester. Maybe you should leave once you returned to the Bunker…

You’d figure that out after the case. No one else would die on your watch.

A quick call to Trixie while you’d been out cooling down had placed you in the middle of tonight’s roster so you’d have time to locate the potential witch, sing to draw her out, and then hopefully seclude and gank her murdering ass.

“Another Lady Mormont? Or would it be Lady Brienne?” You chuckle as Gregor pours you another, winking.

“I would like to think I’m a nice mix of both, but more of a Brienne.”

“Well, I shall be back shortly. My lady.” He nods, grinning widely before heading off to your left to help some other customers.

You phone dings and you tug it from your back pocket.

+ Sam: We have eyes on both the women. +

You throw back the shot, fighting the cough that manifests as it burns down your throat.

Trixie chooses to appear before you can type out a response to Sam, so damn cheerful and perky as she clutched her clipboard. Jesus.

“So, we have a couple people who need a later slot, so you’ll be up next.” She peers at the clipboard, missing the wide-eyed stare you give. “Well, not next-next. After this lady finishes, there is a gentleman who is singing and then it’ll be you!” You nod at her, giving her your most convincing smile - hopefully - then turn back to the bar and order a plain water as you hear the last chords of Faith Hill’s ‘The Way You Love Me’ ring out. Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

You hadn’t sung publicly since you were in your high school choir and the nerves (and alcohol) were making your stomach flutter, twirl, and knot. You left what was left of your water at the bar, edging closer to the stage since the gentleman was already half-way through his odd rendition of Styx’s ‘Come Sail Away’.

The song you’d chosen, it’d been playing in your head for the last few weeks. You’d hit shuffle on your iPod right after Dean had snapped at you after the ghoul case. And really, no other song had seemed so perfect a fit.

“Give a warm welcome to a karaoke virgin, Y/N Tyler!” You swallowed hard, taking the offered microphone and standing mid-stage, chose a spot just above the crowd to focus and worked on channeling your inner-Cher. With a nod to the woman manning the soundboard, you inhale deeply, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet as the song began.

You’re struttin’ into town like you’re slingin’ a gun

Just a small-town dude with a big city attitude

Honey are you lookin’ for some trouble tonight

Well alright

You think you’re so bad, drive the women folk wild

Shoot ‘em all down with the flash of your pearly smile

Honey but you met your match tonight

Oh, that’s right

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'Til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cryin’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gone break it’s going to take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gone win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Dean moved away from his place leaning against the back wall, keeping an eye on Ashley temporarily forgotten as he stared at you like he’d never seen you before. He’s spellbound as you run your hands through your messy hair, this fire suddenly lighting up your eyes before they close momentarily as you sing, opening them as you shoot the crowd one of those sexy innocent smiles he was always hoping you’d direct at him.

You’re an outlaw lover and I’m after your hide

Well you ain’t so strong, won’t be long 'til your hands are tied

Tonight, I’m gonna take you in

Dead or Alive

That’s right

You break the laws of love in the name of desire

Take ten steps back

'Cause I’m ready baby

Aim and fire

Baby, there’s nowhere you going to run tonight

Ooh That’s right

Well you’ve had your way with love but it’s the end of the day

Now a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby you know there ain’t nothing left to say

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

+ Sam to Dean: Holy shit. Did you know she could sing like that?! +

+ Sam to Dean: You are so beyond screwed. I kinda hope she eats you alive after this. +

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cry in’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

I’m gonna shoot ya down Jesse James

The bar loses its collective shit.

There are hoot and hollers, shouts of “You OWNED that!” and a couple “Cher would be proud, honey!” along with lots of loud applause ringing out around you. You fight the heat rising in your cheeks, raising a hand in recognition and scurrying off the stage as fast as you can manage without looking too desperate.

All the nerves make you beeline for the restroom, stopped every couple feet from the stage by people who are congratulating you on an amazing, heartfelt performance. You nod and thank them for their kind words, hurrying to relieve your bladder.

When you exit the stall, Marcia is leaning against the sink closest to the door. A quick glance confirms the fact that she’s locked the door. Well so much for sneaking up on the witch…

You wash your hands calmly, taking the paper towel she offers as her mouth stretched into a wide, Cheshire grin.

“You were pretty damn good up there, Agent.” She taps a sunflower yellow nail against her chin thoughtfully. “Or should I say, Hunter?” You clench your jaw but say nothing, waiting and trying to formulate a plan. Other than one of the Winchesters were gonna get their ass handed to them for this little slip-up. “The others, they sang with the same emotion and depth you did. They were underappreciated. Not unlike myself. My coven didn’t appreciate the power I brought to the table. My mother didn’t think I was smart enough to run the family business. And my dear husband, well he didn’t love me how I should be loved. How you should be loved. The one with green eyes, the one who was flirting with the female bartender, oh, and the waitress when you all went to lunch. And let’s not forget the second guy’s ex - he doesn’t love you. Not how you want - or deserve. I simply want to remedy that.” She chuckles, pushing away from the sink and moving to block the exit.

“Y/N, you know I’m not the bad guy. He fucks every woman who will let him - and let’s face it - with those good looks, not many women are saying no. And every hookup, every smirk, smile and flirty line, they just end up as tiny wounds in your heart. I want him to feel that. To understand the ache you feel. That’s why I already left him a little present.”

“You can’t make people love you. You can’t make someone pay for something that happens a million times a day all over the world. Heartache happens. It’s what makes us human - that vulnerability, that need to be loved - and I will not let you hurt another person simply because you believe yourself to be in the right!” You’re moving forward before the last word tumbles from your lips, quickly chanting out a basic protection spell as you pull the gun and silencer from your back and put a single witch-killing bullet into her heart.

+ Y/N to Sam: Witch ganked. Paging Cas to get rid of the body. Meet me by Baby. +

Cas answers your prayer quicker than usual, disappearing with her body less than a handful of seconds after you’d explained the situation. You exit the bathroom in a damn near sprint, rushing out into the chilly night air. Thank God, you’d shoved a pair of gloves into your front pocket!

Sam and Dean are leaning against the Impala as you yank the too-big gloves on, planting yourself firmly before Dean, hands sliding into his right inner jacket pocket.

“Y/N - what are you…” You don’t bother to answer Dean, moving to the outside pockets before sweeping your hands over his ass, your brow furrowed as he clears his throat. “What couldn’t wait to get your hands on me, Y/N??”

“Oh yes, Dean. Hexed dudes are so hot. Take me now.” Each word is dripping with sarcasm, rolling your eyes as your hands slip into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Really, Y/N? Like the hex bag is gonna be in there?” Sam gives a sharp whistle and you stop, looking up at the hex bag he’s dangling from the edge of his pocket knife.

“You ass! I thought you were in danger!”

“That why you gave my ass a firm squeeze when you were sifting through my empty pockets?” You want to punch him, you really do; a) because you didn’t think to squeeze that fine ass when you were rummaging through his pockets and b) you thought he was in danger and they both knew he wasn’t. You take a calming breath, tugging off the gloves and tossing them at Sam’s face.

“Well, I suppose you were right, Dean. Your jeans are pretty tight, but ya know, better safe than sorry.” You move around Sam and Dean, both standing there gaping at you. They knew your temper, how to rile you up. And normally you tended to take the bait. But after the whirlwind of emotion you’d been through today, in particular, you didn’t have it in you to play. Sliding into the back seat you wait for a few seconds before rolling the back window down. “We headed out to burn that thing or are you gonna stand there?”

—

The ride to the motel is quiet.

Sam makes quick work of burning the hex bag in the metal ice bucket, Cas popping in about twenty minutes later to hear the full details of the case. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, rinsing off the makeup and grittiness in the shower, and you let yourself cry a little too.

While the witch had been a crazed romance hating bitch, she’d been right. He’d never love you how you wanted. But you were also right - you couldn’t make Dean love you. And really, you wouldn’t want that. Dean had mentioned (once you had come to his room one night with your laptop open to a Supernatural fan site you had stumbled on) that Becky had given Sam a love spell, convinced him to marry her. That wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You blow dry your hair just to buy more time in case your eyes are still puffy. Exiting the bathroom, you’re more than a little surprised to see your packed duffle and purse on the bed closest to the door. Sam and Cas are missing, Dean leaning against the little partition wall by the door.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed anything for the drive home.”

“Just my headphones.” You reply, pulling them from your purse’s side pocket and tucking them into your sweatpants pocket before reaching for your bags.

“I got it.” Dean moves forward, hand out to take them from you.

“I already have them, Dean. Just please open the door. Is the trunk open?”

“Yeah, it’s open.” He leaves enough room for you to pass by, enough to be polite at least and slams the door shut behind him. You set your bags into the trunk, ignoring his little outburst. Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow as you settle into the back seat with Cas, giving him a cheery hello and thank you before shrugging at Sam. You pop in your headphones and stare out the window, about to let Josh Groban lull your too tired mind to sleep when the door is suddenly wrenched open, Dean’s big hands reaching inside to grab you. Letting out a startled squeak, you instinctively push his hands away, but he’s got a hell of a grip on your forearm. He pushes you a lot more gently that you thought he would up against the car, his lips brushing gently against your own.

You jerk away like you’ve been burned.

“What the fuck?!” You shout, Sam and Cas shooting out of the car. “Huh? First, you’ve been pissy flirty with me since that ghoul attack now you haul me out of the car and kiss me?!” Shoving at his chest, you search his face. Those candy apple green eyes bore into your own, the rest of his face melting from worried to contemplative to relaxed.

“I- I can’t lose you. I care about you. Maybe a little too much. That ghoul attack, it - it fucked me up. I just kept thinking, what if you died? There isn’t going to be any more damn underwear hanging all over the bathroom. No more getting up 2 in the morning to find you passed out in the library with a cold cup of tea on the table. No more never-ending movie quotes - half of them from movies I’ve never even seen.” His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear like you usually tend to. “Who else was gonna shed everywhere? I mean, you shed worse than Sam. Who else is gonna make me those tiny pies and snap at me when I eat most of them? Which, I stand by this, they are equal to one whole pie.”

“You shouldn’t be eating a whole pie either, Dean!” The fingers that just tucked the hair behind your ear move to brush over your cheek, a smile stretched across his face.

“You were right. I am sweet on you. Have been since day one. Didn’t succumb to any of my lines, any of my dazzling smiles or nicknames. Hell, the first couple times we hunted, you wouldn’t give me the time of day. And, well, I like a challenge.” Dean flashed an easy but knowing smile, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Whoa there.” You hear Sam chuckle behind you. “So, you think you get to be a dick to me for the last month but now I’m just going to fall into your arms? This isn’t a chick flick, even though I know you love them.”

“I don’t -”

“I’m not finished.” Dean straightened up at your sharp tone. You fisted your hands around the edges of his jacket, keeping him from pulling too far away. “I care about you too. And Sam. And Cas. I’ve been hunting since I was 22 and I’m pretty good at it.”

“I didn’t say -” You give him a pointed look, watching him close his mouth and huff.

“I don’t need you to protect me, but I do appreciate it when you guys have my back. We’ve all had close calls. I nearly bled out six years ago hunting a murderous Shedu. We’re hunters, Dean. My life isn’t guaranteed. But if you pull your head out of your ass, I will continue to leave my underwear hanging out to dry in the bathroom. And shed all over the clothes and you won’t complain because I’m the one doing the damn laundry.” You raise up a little on your feet, using your grip on Dean for balance. “I’ll consider making you pie once you’ve apologized to me properly. And you will never call me sweetheart ever again. Oh, and dial the overprotectiveness down a couple notches. If you let Claire hunt, you should -” Dean cut off the rest of your sentence with his lips. His arm moved as you two pulled away, those nice, big hands gripping the back of your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he lifted you up. “You think I’m just going to sleep with you now?!”

“We’ll see you in the morning!” Dean calls out happily, shifting so his arm was firmly under your ass so he could use his right hand to open the motel door. Dean is about to kick the door shut when you hear Sam holler for you, catching the door before it closed. He holds up your purse, dropping it onto the table before rushing from the room with the Impala keys clutched firmly in his hand. Dean drops you onto the bed, watching you bounce with a grin then moving to lock the door.

“Now that we’re all alone, I believe I need to apologize.” Dean begins, shrugging out of his jacket and flannel. You swallow, nodding as you watch him. He reaches behind him, grabbing hold of the dark gray material and pulling it over his head, revealing a wealth of freckled and scarred skin. His hands move down to his belt, smirking as he watches your eyes take him in. “Or maybe I’ll just do like you sang. Just go down in flames, since you already have me crying Indian and begging for more.”

“So, a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away, Jesse James?”

“Nope, I met my match.”

“Does that mean I won the fight?” You ask as he crawls over you, cupping his stupidly handsome face.

“Yeah, princess, you won.”

“Good. Then get ready for a long night of apologetic cuddling, Winchester.”

#spndivas #divas of storytelling challenge #leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid #kitchenwitchsuperwhovian #just like jesse james #dean Winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn #sam winchester #castiel #tiny bit of angst

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The Weekend Warrior Home Edition April 24, 2020 – BEASTIE BOYS STORY, TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG, EXTRACTION and More!

Welcome back to this week’s chapter of Ed is Going Crazy and Itching to Watch a Movie Anywhere BUT His Computer and Television. Since EIGCAITWAMABHCAT is way too long a title, I’ll just stick with “The Weekend Warrior” for now.

I hadn’t planned on attending this year’s Oxford Film Festival, which was scheduled to start in March, but I’m happy that after it was postponed, Executive Director Melanie Addington, decided to hold a virtual festival so others outside the Mississippi region can finally experience the wonderful programming that Addington and her programming team deliver every year. The series will run weekly beginning with Brandon Colvin’s A Dim Valley, which was part of the LGBTQ Narrative Features and will get a one-day exclusive U.S. preview on Friday. It’s about a curmudgeon biologist and his slack graduate assistants who encounter a trio of “mystical backpackers” while doing their summer research project in the Appalachian woods. I’m looking forward to the “McPhail Block” which will run from April 24 to May 1, celebrating Oxford’s version of Brangelina, the acting couple, Johnny and Susan McPhail, who you’re sure to have seen in any number of projects from HBO’s “True Detective” to last year’s The Peanut Butter Falcon. The block includes four shorts including the World Premiere of Brian Whisenant’s The Golden Years, starring the beloved local couple, and three other solid shorts including Thad Lee’s adaptation of Stephen King’s short story, All That You Love Will Be Carried Away. I may be biased, but I definitely recommend checking out the McPhail shorts, because you really get a sense of their personalities in these films even if they are acting and playing characters. Also premiering the first week is a pair of regional doc shorts, Getting to the Root and 70 Years of Blackness (another World Premiere), as well as a second block of doc shorts dubbed “Passion Projects,” comprised of five short films. It’s a well-curated festival, so there should be some good stuff across the board.

You can get tickets to most of the first few weeks’ programming at Eventlive.

Also, the virtual Tribeca Film Festival is underway, and honestly, I wish I could tell you more about it, but I haven’t had a chance to watch anything, as of this writing, and I’m not even sure what is involved in terms of pricing and access… but apparently, it will only run through this weekend? I really just have no idea. The lack of information is frustrating.

Also, it looks like Film at Lincoln Center is adding to their Virtual Cinema schedule, which currently includes Béla Starr’s Sátántangó, the Brazilian thriller Bacurau and more. Starting on Friday, you can also watch Cédric Klapisch’s Someone, Somewhere (Distrib Films), which was going to play the Rendezvous at French Cinema series that was abruptly cancelled, and that’s FilmLinc’s first-week NYC exclusive. Also, the Icelandic film A White, White Day (Film Movement) from Hlynur Pálmason will be available to watch starting this Friday. They’ll be available to rent for $12.00 and $2.00 off if you’re a member. You can learn more about these on the Film at Lincoln Center site.

I usually wouldn’t make a streaming film my “Featured Movie” of this column, but we’re living in different times, so there are no longer any “rules.” This week’s Feature Movie (and in line to be one of my favorites for the year) is BEASTIE BOYS STORY, which will debut on Apple TV+ this coming Friday.

Originally, the concert documentary (of sorts) was going to get a short IMAX run, which would have been brilliant since it was recorded by director Spike Jonze – yes, that one – at a series of live dates out at Brooklyn’s Kings Theater simply billed as “Beastie Boys Story.” The multimedia show had Beasties Michael “Mike D” Diamond and Adam “Ad Rock” Horovitz talking about the storied history of the group, their roots as a pretty lame punk act in a grungier New York, to achieving fame as the childish white rappers all over MTV… to growing as humans and losing their best friend Adam Yauch aka MCA to cancer.

When I moved to New York City in 1987, the Beasties were just exploding with “Licensed to Ill” but it still took me over a decade to take them seriously. I had a chance to do an interview with the guys when Oscilloscope released the concert movie and spoke to Yauch again when he directed a basketball documentary that was at Tribeca. It was pretty obvious that Yauch was the genius behind the band, and the other two guys confirm this during the show. The movie also has a good amount of sentimentality and regrets for some of the decisions, such as booting original drummer, Kate Schellenbach, and how badly they treated her (but still signing her new band, Luscious Jackson, to their label).

Now I get that not everyone is into the Beasties and maybe they only know them from those early days, but let me tell you that Beastie Boys Story does a great job dispelling any myths or misconceptions about the group. In other words, if you’re not a fan of the Beastie Boys before this movie, you most definitely will be the end. This is one of the few movies I could watch online in one sitting without being distracted by other things, and I would totally rewatch it in a second. It’s a bit of a bummer this won’t get a theatrical release even by something like Fathom Events since it would play beautifully with an audience. Hopefully, Oscilloscope, the indie involved with the production will try to give the movie some sort of theatrical release when theaters reopen, because not everyone has Apple TV+ at this point.

I’ve been looking forward to watch Justin Kurzel’s TRUE HISTORY OF THE KELLY GANG (IFC Films) since I first heard the movie was getting made. I was such a big fan of the Heath Ledger-Orlando Bloom movie Ned Kelly, directed by Gregor Jordan and co-starring Geoffrey Rush and Naomi Watt. I mean, that wasn’t the greatest movie despite that exemplary cast, but I also thought it should have done a lot better than the way it was dumped and forgotten by Focus Features. It’s just such a great story and a piece of Australian lore and culture that deserved a better movie.

If you haven’t heard of Ned Kelly or the Kelly Gang, they were Australia’s most notorious bank robbers, whose myth and legend grew as big in that country as that of Al Capone or others became here in the States. During the late 19th Century, the Kelly Gang famously wore plated armor and even dresses to throw off the authorities who were constantly in pursuit of them.

Unlike Ned Kelly, this begins more of an origin with Ned as a child, as played by Orlando Schwert, dealing with a father in prison and a mother (Essie Davis from The Babadook) who is trading sexual favors with his jailer, a sergeant played by Charlie Hunnam. After Ned’s father is executed, Russell Crowe’s Harry Power enters the picture as his mother’s new suitor, and he soon takes the teenage Ned under his wing to show him his ropes. Ned also learns that his mother sold him to Harry Power as someone to groom to be part of his gang. The story eventually shifts to the older Ned (played by George MacKay from 1917) who returns home to find that his mother has taken another suitor in Sean Keenan’s Joe Byrne, and he eventually gets Ned on board to conduct a number of elaborate robberies.

Okay, that’s the basic premise, and Kurzel has put together another great cast for a movie that works far better than his take on Macbeth and (shudder) Assassin’s Creed, both starring Michael Fassbender. (Granted, I’d probably give both of these a rewatch after seeing Kurzel’s Kelly Gang movie.) Although from the very beginning, it’s said that the film’s title of being a “True History” is a bit of a misnomer as a lot of it feels like hearsay from a quite deranged older Ned to an English teacher who claims the story as his own. That said, it is an interesting dive into Kelly’s backstory and what turned him into the violent criminal he became. Oh, I should also mention his relationship with Mary (played by the wonderful Thomasin McKenzie), a single mother living in a brothel who Ned bonds with. There’s a lot to enjoy in the movie including Russell Crowe’s rousing ditty about what Harry Power thinks about the authorities. (It’s not safe for work, if you can’t guess.)

It’s tough to watch at times, similar to last year’s The Nightingale – Australia in those days was not a particularly nice place – but this is by far Kurzel’s best film to date, and it’s a shame that so few will have a chance to see it on the big screen, because it’s definitely a big screen movie. A fine film by Kurzel and one that will make me rethink his previous movies and intrigued in what he does next.

It will be available On Demand, Digitally and in exactly two Drive-Ins, the Mission Tiki 4 Drive-In in Montclair, California and another in Ocala, Florida. If you’re in Orlando, it might be worth the hour trip to see it. Otherwise – and I’m not sure if you’ve heard this advice any time in the last month – but STAY HOME! (Since you can watch it that way, too.)

Martha Stephens’ period coming of age drama, TO THE STARS (Samuel Goldwyn), stars Kara Hayward as Iris Dearborn, a shy farmer’s daughter in 1960s Oklahoma who befriends Liana Liberato’s worldly Maggie Richmond, a city girl who tends to embellish the truth. The two of them navigate the local high school run by a number of snobbish bullying girls, while dealing with some of the real-life drama of growing up in a small town. I was hoping I’d like To the Stars more since I heard good things about it out of Sundance, where it was screened in black and white. It’s generally decent, although it definitely hits some rough and almost unnecessary patches as it builds toward a somewhat obvious climax and dark ending. The script doesn’t really offer that much that’s new or original from other small-town tales set during this period, but Stephens does a decent job getting solid performances out of most of the cast including Tony Hale and Malin Akerman in somewhat rare dramatic roles, Jordana Spiro and Shea Whigham. There are just some of the other younger characters who were annoyingly obvious clichés and the mostly bad Southern accents started getting to me after a while. I also hear lots of raves about the movie’s cinematography, but in color, it didn’t really do much to warrant such praise, and it was hard to even tell what was happening in a few of the darker scenes, one of the bummers about watching movies on a laptop. I’m sure some might like this movie more than I did, and those who enjoy films like this will be able to watch To the Stars on Digital this Friday.

Now playing on Digital and Demand is the first of a three-part documentary, called Time Warp: The Greatest Cult Films of All-Time (Quiver Distribution), the first volume being subtitled: “Midnight Madness.” Directed by Danny Wolf and hosted by Joe Dante, John Waters, Ileana Douglas and Kevin Polack, the first chapter includes a pretty impressive array of talent, including Jeff Bridges, Pam Grier, Rob Reiner, Barry Bostwick, Michael McKean, John Turturro, Gary Busey, Jeff Goldblum, Fran Drescher, Penelope Spheeris and Peter Bogdanovich. It covers everything from The Rocky Horror Picture Show to The Big Lebowski in a deep dive of 105 minutes. Now I’ve never been the biggest midnight movie guy when going to festivals, because to be honest, I just can’t stay up that late. I’m an old man. But I do love genre and cult films, the weirder the better, and while I’m not sure I’d consider Lebowski a “midnight movie,” the movie is pretty thorough in covering all but the most esoteric films. The first volume is a lot of fun with Jack Hill, Pam Grier and the late Sid Haig talking Coffey and similar “mini-docs” on so many great movies. Other great films covered include David Lynch’s Eraserhead, Tod Browning’s Freaks, and of course, Waters was gonna talk about Pink Flamingos. I’ve seen most of the movies, and I knew quite a bit about them, but the film is still a great entry into cult movies, and I definitely recommend it whether you’re already a fan of this movie subgenre or not.

Volume 2 (available May 19) is about Horror and Scifi, while Volume 3 (available June 23) is Comedy and Camp, and I’ll cover those more fully in the weeks they’re available.

I was vaguely intrigued by ROBERT THE BRUCE (ScreenMedia), which as you might imagine from the title (words that are said almost every five minutes but one of a dozen characters), it’s meant as a thematic sequel to Mel Gibson’s Braveheart. Actor Angus Macfadyen, who played the title character in Gibson’s movie, cowrote and stars in this movie set in the early 14th century (1306, to be precise) where it sort of follows his character. Robert the Bruce has crowned himself King of Scotland after the death of William Wallace, and he takes over Wallace’s mission to win Scotland’s freedom and immediately puts a target and price on his head as his army is dispersed. He’s discovered by an 11-year-old boy, the son of one of his soldiers, who along with his mother and two orphans help nurse Robert the Bruce back to health.

This movie makes you wonder how long Macfadyen must have waited for Gibson or anyone involved with Braveheart to give him his own movie before he gave up and made it himself. Doing some quick math: he waited 25 years, and clearly, that’s just been too long, because even as a fan of those historical battle epics, I was just so effin’ bored by Robert the Bruce, especially after seeing True History of the Kelly Gang. Macfadyen has a decent cast around him, including Jarred Harris and Patrick Fugit, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been more bored watching a movie as I was watching this one.

Robert the Bruce will be on Digital and On Demand in conjunction with the 700th anniversary of Robert the Bruce’s Declaration of Arbroath, declaring Scotland a free land.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Premiering on Netflix this Friday is the new Chris Hemsworth crime thriller, EXTRACTION, produced by the Russos (Avengers: Endgame) and directed by Sam Hargrave, the Russos’ stunt coordinator making his feature directorial debut. In the movie, Hesworth plays Tyler Rake, a black market mercenary hired to rescue the kidnapped son of an international crime lord who has been jailed, as he gets involved in the underworld of weapons dealers and drug traffickers trying to save the boy.

This wasn’t a bad action movie really, and nothing like the loads of bad action movies made in the ‘80s, ‘90s and ‘00s, compared to the actually decent and memorable ones like Die Hard, Aliens, the early films of Luc Besson, etc. This is a pretty simple premise, but Hemsworth has clearly found his stride as an action hero when not playing Thor, and this has all the momentum and kinetic violence of a Bourne movie, as Hemsworth wisely plays Tyler Rake more as the strong and mostly silent type with his young liege, played by Rudhraksh Jaiswal, the two being a strong combo that keeps you entertained throughout. I definitely like Hemsworth more as an actor than others who may have played this sort of role, such as Bruce Willis or Jason Statham, etc. There’s also a great supporting role for Golshifteh Farahani, who you may remember from her role in Jim Jarmusch’s Paterson or The Pear Tree, and David Harbour has a great, very physical fight with Hemsworth in one scene. I’m really liking the way that Netflix is exploring international cinema not just from the hit foreign language films regularly on the streaming network but also a worldly action-thriller like Extraction. Like True History of The Kelly Gang, I would have loved to see this on the big screen, even if it was a press screening at Netflix’s newly-managed Paris Theater. It’s just so much more fun seeing movies like this one with an audience. This may be a running and recurring theme in this column over the next few months, by the way.

Also this week, the new improvised comedy special Middleditch & Schwartz (as in Thomas and Ben) will premiere on Tuesday on Netflix – heard about this on Josh Horowitz’s “Happy Sad Confused” podcast and I’m intrigued – as well as the animated feature, The Willoughbys, featuring the voices of Will Forte, Maya Rudolph and Ricky Gervais, will debut on Wednesday. The latter is about four kids with selfish parents and their plans to get rid of them. Also, the second season of After Life and third seasons of The House Of Flowers, neither show which I’ve seen, begin this week, so if you’re a fan, there’s those to watch, too.

Also, Lionsgate will include its series of free movies with this Friday night’s offering being the ‘80s classic, Dirty Dancing.

It looks like the exceptional Maysles Cinema up in Harlem has started some virtual programming and Friday, it will launch its “Made in Harlem” programming with Looking for Langston. You can go to the Maysles’ websiteto learn more about the program.

Next week, more movies not in theaters!

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

#TheWeekendWarrior #BeastieBoysStory #TrueHistoryOfTheKellyGang #Extraction #RobertTheBruce #Movies #Reviews #ToTheStars

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burgermiester · 7 years

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Grinding Renown Made Fun!*

*Grinding for Renown in Fire Emblem Awakening is never really fun. Its tedious, and if you want to max it out it will take many, many hours. This guide is just to show you how I made it as fun as I could while still keeping it relatively fast and efficient. Maybe you will want to try it for yourself or make a variation based on what you like.

(also note that my method uses a lot of the DLC so if you dont have at least Lost Bloodlines 2 and Smash Brethren 2 for Dread Fighter and Bride then it probably wont work very well, but maybe you can modify it, I am not sure. It also would probably be nice to have Lost Bloodlines 3 for Paragon and I liked having all stats +2 from Champions of Yore 3 but those 2 arent necessary)

For starters I want to be very clear that everyone knows this isnt technically the fastest way to grind renown. The fastest way to grind renown is exactly what it says on the wiki: make a ton of money on golden gaffe then summon a weak/cheap character, pay to recruit them, then dismiss them, repeat 2000 times. I tried doing this on a file where I was at endgame and I found it terribly boring, which in turn meant it was not the fastest way for me to grind renown since it would take me forever to find the energy to do it.

So when deciding how I wanted to grind renown for myself I had a few objectives: fight the spotpass characters, not buy them, and make fighting them as quick as possible; minimize the number of spaces that a spotpass character could spawn when I summon them to cut down on walking around the world map; minimize the number of times that I go into the wireless menu to make it easier to multitask (basically it was harder to watch movies or tv in the background using the fastest method since its so menu heavy, so I wanted to cut that time spent down); if possible, completely eliminate the need to manage items on my units. I solved all these issues and these are the steps of my method (the Miester Method?):

Step 0: Grind supports before you even start grinding renown. Grinding out supports is much more interesting than grinding renown. You get new dialogue after most fights and a lot of it is interesting. Just make sure you are grinding on spotpass characters instead of risen since spotpass fights/purchases give the most renown, that way you are maximizing your gains for when you run out of supports to grind and are ready to move onto proper renown grinding.

Step 0.1: Pray your past self really loved playing Awakening. Just having played the game a lot normally will put you in a nice starting position. By the time I finished support grinding gen 1 and moved on to renown grinding I was at nearly 45,000 renown, close to half of the 99,999 max. I cant recall how much of that was support grinding on spotpass characters and how much was there from just playing a ton of Awakening, I forgot to check, but both helped.

OK, now on to the actual steps for renown grinding.

Step 1: Start a new game. You arent challenging yourself here so just go normal casual.

Step 2: Play the game up until Chapter 8 (but dont play chapter 8.) Also beat Paralogues 1 and 3 but not 2. This should have your world map looking like this:

The reason you want to do this is because it leaves your world map with exactly 10 empty spaces in which to summon spotpass characters. As 10 is the maximum number of spotpass units you can summon at once, having 10 spots on the map lets you spend the least amount of time in the wireless menu. Its also good to not allow more than 10 free spots because every extra square you add means more time wasted walking across the map. This is why its not a good idea to do this grinding at endgame: you could be on Donnel’s island and summon a bunch of spotpass units in Valm and vice versa.

Now, as for why I picked prologue-chapter 7 and paralogue 1 and 3 over other choices for my 10 map spots, it mostly came down to map layout. They are all small early game chapters that take only 2-3 turns to beat on auto battle most of the time. Paralogue 2 was much too big and would take more turns to beat and Chapter 8 is full of turn adding desert. Remember, youll be fighting MANY battles in these maps, an extra turn or two each time translates to hundreds of extra turns in the long run. That being said, I want to emphasize that if you havent gotten lucky getting second seals from the random shop annas, you should play chapter 8. Chapter 8 gives you Gregor and another second seal, Gregor is especially important because hes got armsthrift without using a second seal (more on that in a bit). I had already gotten 1 other second seal from Anna by the time I got to chapter 7 so I chose to not play chapter 8, whether or not you do is up to you. If you choose to play chapter 8 then you need to cut either paralogue 1 or 3. Paralogue 1 is a smaller map so will be more likely to give you a 2 turn clear over paralogue 3′s 2-3 turn clear, but paralogue 3 gives you a store with access to javelins and hand axes, two weapons that are very nice to have.

Step 3: Build an Army. Trust Armsthrift. Now its time to prepare your team. The maximum number of units youll need to field in any of these battles is 9. If you go under 9 youll need to waste time in battle prep deselecting units, and we dont want that, so getting to 9 units is important. To eventually get to a point where you never need to buy items for your units youll want armsthrift on your whole team. Unfortunately theres a few hurdles to jump to make this happen since we only are at chapter 7/8. First, we dont have our full team to pull from and second we cant buy second seals. Naturally we will need to get as many spotpass units with armsthrift as we can, but only 5 come with armsthrift: Malice, Linus, Ike, Roy, and Ogma. This means youll need 4 second seals to get a full armsthrift team. Robin, Cordelia, Donnel, and spotpass characters can reclass to mercenary this way. You will have one second seal from renown rewards meaning you need 3 more from anna shops (or only one if you choose to do chapter 8 and get Gregor and another second seal.) Chrom is a good temporary member while you train up your team since he has an unbreakable weapon, but sadly its only 1-range which is not going to cut it since enemies will always attack him at 2 range making battles last at least 1 turn longer than they would otherwise. As for the actual training, do Yore 3 over and over to collect all skills plus 2 for everyone and gain levels to be better prepared for Bloodlines 2 and 3 which are a bit tougher but also get better rewards (and youll be doing Bloodlines 2 a hell of a lot to get all the dread scrolls youll need to reset levels until everyone has max luck.) Bear in mind you will need limit break to go over 50 luck, but just capping it normally or even just pushing it into the 40s then giving all your dread fighters and brides a full inventory of hand axes or javelins will make it so that your stops at the armory are few and very far between.

(optional step: if you have golden gaffe then once your units are decently strong run it 5-10 times and then never think about money again)

Step 4: Setting up the grind. By now you are ready to fire up a couple of rounds of proper spotpass grinding. You might want to wait until you have a full team of limit broken armsthrifters but I recommend waiting a bit, I will explain why in a sec. So I will now give the rundown on the actual grinding that will probably become auto-pilot like for you before too long. Open the wireless menu, go to bonus box and bonus teams and summon 10. If your team isnt maxed out then I say pull the first 5 from one game and the first 5 from another, just to be sure you wont run into anything that kills you. You are on casual, so its not normally a big deal if a unit dies in this process, but if its Chrom or Robin its a game over, and even if its not thats stopping for a text box which slows you down. I recommend the shadow dragon and binding blade teams because there are no cleric/troubadour team leaders who slow things down by not killing themselves on your units and theres no armor knight leaders (and few armor knight other units) who sometimes add turns by not making it to your units as quickly in the bigger maps. Dont save after every battle, it adds like 3 seconds each time, just do it after every cycle (10 battles). If your units are over the 50 luck line give them their best weapons and let them go to town. If they are under 50 then give them a full set of hand axes for dread fighters and javelins for brides and they will last dozens of cycles before you need to restock their inventory. If you are still using Chrom and/or another non armsthrift unit then make sure they are at the 9th slot on your team so they dont go into most fights. Then just turn off and skip all animations and phases and set auto battle to blitz and auto battle every turn, forever.

Step 5:

Step 6: Break up the Monotony. This is the crux of the Miester Method. Summoning a full set of 10 spotpass units and killing them with a very strong team will take ~8 minutes and net you 500 renown. From 0 renown thats closing in on 24 hours of still very repetitive grinding (now you see why I recommend you grind supports first, if you can get close to 50k renown before beginning actual renown grinding youve cut that time in half). Some people might not find level grinding to be a sufficient break in the monotony but for me leveling up in awakening, especially if your units have Paragon, is very fast and fun and rewarding. I might even go so far as to say that building super units is the most fun part of Awakening’s gameplay. So what I recommend is every 15 minutes or so (2 cycles of 10 spotbass battles roughly) head back to dlc land and power up somebody. Get another dread scroll to reset the level of someone with a lot more stats to cap then run them through Bloodlines 3 solo to gain like 20 levels in 5 minutes. Then pop back to the world map and do another cycle of spotpass renown grinding. When enough of your units are close to max stats try and start taking on Rogues and Redeemers 3 to get limit break for everyone and start getting luck to 50. Once they are at 50 luck you can throw your ultimate bonus box weapons like book of naga and mjolnir on them and they will never break and you wont need to mess with their inventory ever again. Try to be going back and forth this whole time too: do a few spotpass cycles, then grab a limit break skill, back and forth. Once everyone has limit break on them go for capping every single stat on every unit. This will take a while because some of them really dont want to get points of magic and/or resistance. So back and forth now between cycles of spotpass and getting more dread scrolls and resetting levels to try to get that res. Everytime one of my units maxed all stats I gave them a forged weapon to celebrate. I ran out of characters to cap before I finished renown grinding so I then broke up my cycles running Infinite Regalia to try and get a ragnell for Ike and a second Gradivus for my second Bride. By the time that was done, I had less than 20k renown to go, and so I was ready to buckle down and sprint to the finish line. That last 20k wasnt even all that bad because I felt like only now was I really in a total grind, breaking up the monotony for the majority of the experience really helped make it more fun for me. Hopefully it makes it easier for you too!

Step 7: !!!VERY IMPORTANT!!! Once you finish Renown grinding you need to beat the game on that save file or it wont carry over on new files!!!! So do that. It will be....very easy.

I dont expect it will take more than an hour.

Once its over, congratulations! You are now W o r l d R e n o w n!

#fire emblem #renown #fire emblem gameplay #awakening #guide #long post

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stevefromitreviewsgameofthrones · 5 years

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The Bells / S8E5

Ok so this was a huge episode although it seemed rushed

To Start my prediction we would say goodbye to Varys – spot on. Sorry dude she did warn she’d burn you alive if you ever betrayed her. BTW did anybody notice he was trying to poison her? 😉 also to Note when Varys is burned Jon gives Dani a look of disgust.. seeds of dissension are brewing. He also was sending out Ravens so many of the remaining houses know about Jon by now.

Tyrion gets warned he will suffer pretty much the same fate if he fails again… so of course he sets Jamie free… it’s ok I think he will survive..Jamie heads to Kings Landing as does Arya and the hound… funny thing to note both Jamie and the Hound are shrouded and hiding Arya is brazenly walking it armed and ready no cloak just a stop me and I’ll kill you strut.

So the Armies are poised and waiting for battleships are ready and watching the skies as are the scorpions on the castle… also to note nobody was really looking up just out to the horizon. I pointed that out to my son last night and said if I was Dani would fly above the clouds and dive bomb them they would not have enough time to properly target.. well she did. Navy taken out and while I saw on the internet it is amazing they proved they can kill a dragon and suddenly cannot hit Drogon. A point of note, the dragons were hovering and circling over the ships as guards not flying at full speed. Easier to hit a still target or slow moving one then one moving at top speed. So yes she was able to avoid getting hit and wreak havok… THIS was a solid strategic move. All military targets precision strikes.”almost” restored my faith…

She then blows down the gate wall and takes out the Golden company..man their time on the show was non-existent…also a good military strike ..applaud Danni. Cercei’s main forces eliminated still have the nuclear option of Drogon and not the battle is in their favor… forces move in and battle…military targets still a good clean fight. Lannister army surrenders and drops their weapons…and the bell tolls…battle is won gratz Dani and company sorry Cercei… uhhm Dani? Ok now the mad queen proceeds to burn the whole of King’s Landing -Note I did say she is becoming the mad queen… Greyworm who is now out for revenge also follow suit and against Jon’s protest the forces resume… well carnage as battle would involve armed opponents. So everyone is slaughtered soldiers and civilians, women and children buildings burned and the city crumbled to the ground ..wont be much of a place to rule from.

Jamie runs into Euron and they battle Euron is killed and Jamie mortally wounded

The Hound and Arya part ways as he lets her know she is becoming him. Arya flips from assassin with a list to fleeing cat hoping to save all she can. And shows her skills she worked on all series… chasing cats in Kings Landing being blind she actually managed to survive. We’ll come back to her escape

The Hound and the Mountain Clegane bowl finally Cercei orders Gregor to stay by her side Qyburn tries to enforce that in a I am your maker Dr. Frakenstein move and gets his skull broken… should have read up on his Mary Shelly since that rarely works. And the battle ensues while Cercei flees. Sandor is a great match for Gregor had Gregor not been a zombie Sandor would have killed him a few times. But he is a zombie so Sandor charged him crashed through a crumbling wall to a great height but if the fall did not kill them the fire would. Fell a little ripped off as with such a build the battle should have been more like Viper and the Mountain.

Dani continues to leave the place in ruin and the dragon fire starts to setoff all the hidden wildfire it’s gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight.. in the mean time Cercei finds Jamie and they head to the room with the dragon skulls to get to the escape route but are trapped. The building collapses on them and they are presumed dead.. I say presumed as we do not see them die likely a cameo of them trapped and dying and either Tyrion or Jamie killing Cercei as a mercy killing. Her prophesy says she is strangled not crushed to death.

Jon seeing see’s their forces raping and pillaging none of this is tasteful to him and is even more making his journey to not back Dani complete. He finally gets the troops to retreat before they are killed between dragon fire, crumbling buildings and wildfire. Pretty sure he now knows which side her coin landed.

And finally Arya striving to save a mother and child and not be a faceless man gets blasted with dragon fire… Arya slips out of the way but the mother and child are burned to a crisp… So…. Is Arya fleeing to be normal and not pursue revenge or did she just get a new name for her list.. we will find out next week, but there could be a clue.. as if by magic a Pale horse appeared and Arya rode off on it. “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.” I would take that as a sign she is not done.

Deaths Lord Varys Euron Greyjoy Qyburn Sandor Clegane Gregor Clegane Jamie Lanister Cercei Lannister 100’s of towns people The Golden Army The Lannister Army Dani’s sanity Jon’s faith in Dani Greyjoy fleet

Survived Jon/Aegon 6th of his name blah blah Arya “silence I keel you” Stark Tyrion Lannister Grey Worm The unsullied Drogon Dani The Dothraki The Northmen Davos Anybody not in King’s Landing

Predictions

Preview shows Tyrion walking through the destruction. I believe he finds Jamie and Cercei and kills Cercei as a mercy killing.

Arya is seen giving a death stare to somebody which is likely Dani possibly going to kill her let’s face it Arya is the ultimate fighting champion of the GOT world so could be.

We then see Unsullied and Dothraki cheering Dani as she enters the courtyard… not anybody from the 7 Kingdoms… just unsullied and Dothraki… So my guess is Varys’ word got out.

Jon will eventually sit the Iron throne Dani will be killed however it could play out a few ways.

For starters, she now with her depleted armies will have to fight the North and all the other families of the 7 Kingdoms. Nobody will be backing her and the strangers from across the sea.

Arya could kill Dani although that would be overplaying her trump card… but let’s say she tries and when Dani kills Arya for her betrayal Jon kills Dani? I am pulling for Arya to live but this seems the less cliché way of ending it. One possible ending as is Arya killing Dani.

Grey Worm does not want to stay in that foreign land so might leave and take the unsullied with him leaving Dani vulnerable.

Main prediction a lot of deaths

Dani is definitely one of those

And now my watch has ended

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thebaltimoremold-blog · 7 years

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In The Valley of Beautiful People- Alex Quyen

You never know truly what you think of your face until you lose it. When I had mine, I hated it. I detested it with a passion, a fiery burning vengeance that morphed over time into a sallow, oozing abhorrence. My nose was too round, I would think as I poked and prodded it in the mirror. My eyes were too big, I’d believe when I pulled down my eyelids and gazed into the reflection at the two sclera. My then-boyfriend always used to disagree with me. “Your eyes are my favorite part of you.” He’d whisper in my ears, which I thought too big and too pointed. I tried to take his compliments to heart, but something deep inside of me kept me from using them a salve. Perhaps I knew they were only made to keep me quiet.

“We are all born with our face.” My mother, a hard and sturdy Swedish woman with far too much sensibility and far much less compassion, said to me when I told her of my worries. She gestured to the wart on her forehead and the great big mole that I swore grew every time I saw her, “Am I happy about these? Of course not. But I live with them. It does no good to complain.” She turned away from me, ending our conversation. I hadn’t even broached the subject of cosmetic surgery yet. Maybe she sensed it coming and decided to end it before I could bring it up.

“What will you do though?” My then-boyfriend asked me in bed as I sat perusing blogs of miracle transformations, the ones that documented the twelve easy steps to a new you. “A nosejob? Chin and cheekbone implants? You have too many issues with yourself, and nearly not enough money or time to fix them all.” He turned away from me, rolling over so he faced the other

way. I sighed, closed the lid of my laptop. I tried to put all thoughts out of my head.

Eventually the then-boyfriend exited my life, breaking up with me over dinner. “Sort yourself out,” He had told me over the salmon I had cooked as a surprise for him, “then give me a call.” I never saw him after that night. I heard he had made his way down to America and ended up the paramour of a closeted Senator. Since him, only one other man took his place, an artist from Kensington that had sketched me as I worked. With broad strokes and tiny lines he had drawn my face; my lips that parted slightly as I entered a deep focus, the freckles spattered across my skin in a mock imitation of a rash. He had hung his studies around our shared apartment, hoping to surprise me. I had taken them down every time I saw them, eventually requesting for him to stop, focus his talents elsewhere. We parted after a month or two, him claiming I had no appreciation his art. I let him go. I had no more energy for dealing with people.

*** I remember the morning clearly, although not the date. I had awoken for

a job interview, setting my alarm clock the night before for a time too early for me to really function straight. As I stumbled in a sleep-crusty haze I managed to pull myself towards the shower, turning the knob towards scalding before stepping in myself. When I exited, my hair still sopping, I began to brush my teeth as I stared into the fog-obstructed mirror. Something was off, I could tell. A feeling stirred in my gut that something was wrong and so I reached up and wiped the condensation off the glass. It was my face I realized, that had brought upon me such a feeling of discontent.

Or rather, not my face. Because what was staring back at me was not mine. The round button nose I had hated so much was gone, replaced with one with a narrowed tip that angled up so very slightly. The cheekbones had been

raised and my jaw had hardened, becoming square and chiseled. It was a Kafkaesque circumstance, I considered as I warped and contorted my new visage, bending and stretching it to see how it looked at every angle. Only thankfully what looked back at me from the mirror wasn’t some Gregor Samsa looking fuck. It was a fine face, I thought as I ran a razor over its new features. It could’ve been a model, or an actor. I wondered whose face it was, if it was anyone’s at all.

*** I had ended up getting the job, and so I fell into a new life. I reinvented

myself; throwing out the little amount of photos I had with my old me, discarding my driver’s license and all my old student yearbooks. I chose a new name, one handsome and befitting of such a face I now owned, as well as a new history; a series of fake circumstances that had brought me to the moment in which I had walked in for the interview. In my old life I was no one special, an ordinary body flickering incorporeally through time. The artist once told me, in neither a fit of anger nor a moment of therapy, that I tied myself to my partners, that their life and friends became mine. When I had no one to sleep next to I became lonely and solitary, preferring my own company rather than any one in particular. A desperate creature, my mother had once called me in a burst of rage. I did nothing to argue her point. I knew deep down inside it was true. With this new face however I was able to change my path. I went out to drinks with coworkers, danced long nights away and flirted with men I previously considered far out of my league. It seems shallow, in retrospect, to think all this came about because of my new appearance. But I hated my old one so much, it only seems fit that a change would occur. Perhaps it was a gift from the man above.

I had sworn long and wide to myself that I’d keep this secret. The mystery of my transformation was one I did not like to dwell on, and I found my life going by so much easier when I didn’t. I’d go to the grave with this, I’d

tell myself, the undertaker would be piling cold hard earth on my strange new features and still no one would know. But now I have to tell someone. I can no longer repress this, keep it bottled up inside me. Because the face staring at me from across the street, the one peering lovesick into my eyes; that face is mine.

*** I had met him at a bar on the north side of town. He had approached

me from the side, my peripheral vision catching only glimpses of him before he tapped me on the shoulder and asked to buy me a drink. It took a second to register. I remember blinking to clear my eyes, but nothing I tried worked. It still stared back at me, a reminder, a haunting vision. He had shaken my hand, given his name. He gave no indication that he recognized me, that the reason he had approached me was because he knew he wore my face, or maybe because I wore his. As far as I could tell he was simply entranced by me. He sickened me. I tried to ignore him all night, ordering more and more drinks to pound back until I was so woozy I could barely remember why I had done so. But he was there every step of the way, eventually carrying me back to his car and driving me home. He asked if he could come over the next day, and, me, the ever-courteous creature, let him.

For a month I had met up with the man who had my face, curious of who he was. He spilled so quickly, so easily. By the end of the first date I knew everything about him except how he got his countenance; how his favorite drink was a dirty martini with the saltiest olives one can find, how he once wanted to be a singer when he was a kid but soon found he couldn’t sing for shit. He was confident, or maybe just horny. He’d lie in my lap and gaze into my eyes, twist my features of his into an approximation of a swoon that caused something in me to gag. It took every effort not to push him off. Perhaps it would’ve been better if I did, if I shoved him off and told him to never speak to me again. Instead I’ve found myself becoming increasingly

tangled in this web. Now, like an Almodóvar horror or an X-Files special, I sleep with my face next to me every night.

And now I’ve reached my limit. No longer can I bear to see that visage again. I’ve gotten up early in the mornings to avoid the eyes and nose and lips next to me. I’ve come home late and eaten out when I can. Maybe he knows, the signs are all there, but I doubt it. He still snuggles up to me, presses my lips onto my cheek or rubs my nose onto mine in an eskimo kiss. He had shown no sign when I called him from work. It was a business trip, I had lied to him; I’d be away for a week or so. I had already found a condo to rent online and had exchanged a series of emails with the landlord. I was all set to leave, be gone forever.

He greeted me at the door, kissed me before I got the chance to turn away. He had packed me a suitcase and gushed as he placed it in my hands, telling me to take pictures and text every night. I thanked him before stepping back and swiveling quickly to avoid dwelling on that face. I could see the taxi he had called, and began to quickly make my way there.

“Your boyfriend?” The driver, an old woman with graying hair stuffed into her cap, said. I nodded as she pulled away from her curb. I thought about my face standing on the sidewalk in front of the apartment that now was just his. I wondered what he would do when he realized I wouldn’t be coming back. My eyes began to water. I was not a cruel person, I told myself. It was me I could not stand. It was my face I hated. It was not the man-who-wore-my- face’s fault, but my own lack of self-confidence and abundance of disgust. Tears began to drip down the creases of my strange unfamiliar features. “Don’t cry,” the cabbie said as she patted my shoulder, “You’re too handsome to cry.”

But that made me only sob more

#writing #zine #mold

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