Month 1, day 11

That arm just keeps floppin' all over the place lol

Oh well, at least it's mostly doing what I want it to now :)

1010 Malt Shop - Green Plushie

It's done. It's finally done. 1 week of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly blood), and he's done.

But I don't have a good enough camera nor photography skills to really capture his true charm ;w;

(Boring self reflection + more pics under the cut)

Anyway, this is the project I've been working on lately. No particular thing really prompted this. Like most things I do, it was started on a whim and finished with will power. I don't really have much experience with plush making or sewing, so despite his obvious faults, I still think he turned out pretty nicely for an amateur.

As per usual, I didn't have enough foresight to document the process, but I can nonetheless talk about the experience and point out some details of it.

Firstly, he's a pretty large lad. Here he is compared to the official DJSS plush and one of the test prints I did of "Melon Float."

Counting his straw, he's about 16 inches tall. I wasn't counting on him being so big, so I don't really know what I'm gonna do with him now...

I say this took a week, but I probably could have quartered that time if I had a working sewing machine, but since I didn't, the majority of the time was spent just sewing the thing together. (Btw, pattern over here.) The only fabric details that weren't hand-sewn are the circle/stripe details on his pants and shoes, and the bow/buttons on his shirt, which were all glued on.

The base pattern didn't come with any clothes, so I just adapted the body patterns into clothes. Structurally, he's basically wearing a second skin~ I did think about making the gloves for the sake of accuracy, but at that point, the only skin he'd be showing is his face, and I wanted to keep some soft parts out since his clothes are so stiff. They're so stiff, they can stand on their own and be stacked on top of each other without falling over.

(The plush has a harder time standing than his clothes do...)

Speaking of the clothes, let me say right now that it bothers me more than anyone else that the paint details don't color-match his pants. I was so high on the euphoria of starting this project that when I was out getting supplies, I saw some glow-in-the-dark paint and thought it'd be a great idea since he's a robot and all. The color on the bottle looked close enough at the time, and the original plan was that only the face would be painted with the other details being felt, but on top of me forgetting that effects paint takes a long time to build up layers, the green also dried differently than I thought it would, so it threw everything off, but I didn't have the patience to suck it up and repaint everything with a better color match. I did try to add a light gradient with my pastels like in the original art work, but it turned out so light that it's barely perceivable and totally not worth the clamminess I get when I touch chalk.

I think the most time-consuming part was his hair. While sewing the body together took 2 days, the clothes 2 days, and painting 1 day, the hair took about 3 as I had to figure out essentially how to do it myself on the fly. The first day was mostly trial and error. I did find a couple of online tutorials about how to get this loopy yarn hair, but the ones that I found both required tools that I didn't have. Eventually, I figured out a way to make it work, but I feel like it was less than efficient:

Basically, his hair is made with chunks of yarn that are tied together, and each chunk is individually sewn into place. I didn't count, but I think there are 13-14 hair chunks total to give him a full head. I do like how I made his bangs uneven to mimick how I draw his hair, but I couldn't quite pull off having his distinct hair-part and I couldn't figure out how to give the illusion of half his hair being straight without it looking weird. (I did try cutting the loops to let the strands be straight, but I didn't like the look of it, so I kept them all loopy).

This is a weird thing to say out of context, but I'm especially proud of the back of his head. Originally I was just going to paint on his undercut (which I'm glad I didn't because this paint REALLY hardens the cotton), so I got the bright idea to sew on individual strands of yarn for it. I think the effect is great, but I would not wish it upon my worst enemy, because to get the effect, I had to sew on each. strand. individually. The day I made the face poll, and said that was going to be a break day? I wound up doing this instead, and it took just as long to sew in those 20+ strands of yarn as it did the rest of his hair.

To segway into that poll, as you can see, I went with option 2 with some slight edits. Just the white/green eyes looked a little plain to me, so I added my usual dark pupil and added a green-star glitter to the center. I'm the one that has to live with this thing for the foreseeable future, so I made some executive decisions. Unfortunately, there were a few errors while painting, which you can clearly see in the above pictures OTL. I did try to seal off my painting areas with tape, but it still bled and stained in a few places. I don't really know if it's possible to clean the stains without ruing the rest of the face, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them.

There are a few extra details that I guess are worth pointing out: he's actually wired. I put in some armature wire so he'd be able to move his limbs despite the stiff felt but... I didn't secure them that well, and the wire for his arms got displaced, so I currently can't bend them ;3;. I'd have to open him up again to replace it, and I REALLY don't want to undress him again to get to his back. The worst thing about this plush is that his clothes are so stiff that he's actually very hard to dress.

The wire in his legs is mostly still in place, so he can at least (kinda) sit.

I think the last thing worth talking about is the ice cream accessory. It was really simple to make (it's just air dry clay over foil + extra pieces), but it's cute, so I wanted to point it out~

It's a hair clip, so it can be taken on and off. Theoretically, it could be worn by a person, but it's a little heavy to be wearing it all day~ The camera/lighting really blew out the colors, but I think it turned out to be a nice creamy french vanilla color like I really wanted~

Other details like the glitter on his eyes/cheeks can't really be captured on my shitty ipod camera, but rest assured that he is pleasantly sparkling~

I think my biggest takeaway from this project has been materials: I thought that using felt would be a great alternative to having to buy an entire yard of fabric for a one time project, but besides the paint, it was the hardest material to work with. If I have to pick and choose, next time I think the body will be felt, and the clothes will be cotton, or maybe I'll actually invest in some fleece, so it can be soft all the way~ Since the clothes are removable, I could theoretically make him his default sailor suit and just replace the straw with his proper hair loop to convert this into a "canon" design plush, but we'll see what the future holds. I did get the felt colors to make my *other* babygirl, but given this experience, I may hold off on making him until a much later date.

drop five facts each abt all your Wednesday ocs pls!! (including Esther bc it’s a crime that I don’t know much abt her fr) -🍂

Ahhhh, thank you so much for asking about them, Alvita!! I am also gonna tag @luucypevensie and @dancingsunflowers-ocs since they’re my other Wednesday girlies. <3

We’ll do some facts about Esther first, since she’s my properly-introduced baby:

Given that I don’t think I’ve properly explained Esther’s outcast type to anyone besides Grace, I’ll explain it now: she’s a nephilim! Her mother, the woman who acted as a surrogate for her fathers when they were having her, was herself the daughter of an angel and a human, and because of this Esther is able to tap into a few different angel powers (if not all of the ones available to a nephilim, because Esther is a quarter angel rather than half).

These powers include being able to manipulate and generate light, being able to calm other people’s mental distress simply by projecting calming energy at them, being able to release powerful blasts of light that can cause physical destruction (which is what lead to the collapsed bell tower that got her transferred from her old school to Nevermore), and being able to wield a glowing angel sword by summoning it from the astral realm which is able to destroy demonic creatures (not that Esther has met any of those yet).

Esther’s family is actually pretty rich, with both of her fathers being lawyers and partners in their respective firms (which are actually rival firms, a fact that Esther and her younger brother Maddox find hilarious). Esther doesn’t like showing off or flaunting her family’s money, but she also doesn’t let it stop her from wearing nice clothes and buying her friends expensive gifts on their birthdays or other special occasions.

The St. Claire family also has a golden retriever, which Esther’s fathers rescued as a puppy when Esther was seven and Maddox was three. Esther was allowed to name her and chose the name Reno, after the main character in the musical Anything Goes, because her obsession with classic musicals had started even at that young age. Reno is an absolute sweetheart who always misses Esther whenever she’s away at school, and the entire family absolutely adores her.

Esther has never officially come out as a lesbian to her dads and Maddox - they’ve all pretty much known since Esther was pretty young, and when Esther finally comes home on a school break holding Wednesday and Enid’s hands, everyone just kind of shrugs and welcomes the two girls into their home.

Next, let’s talk about my beloved bitchy lesbian fairy Padma:

Every fairy has an affinity for one of the five forms of elemental magic: fire, water, earth, air, and metal. Padma’s affinity is for fire, because of course it is.

Padma is a twin! Her brother Akshat has an affinity for earth, doesn’t attend Nevermore - he is instead homeschooled as the majority of fairy kids are - and is pretty much the exact opposite of Padma in every way. He’s very quiet and passive, and doesn’t have even a hint of her quick temper.

Like Esther, Padma is also a rich girl (I mean, her family has been around for centuries since fairies live a really long time plus they can literally enchant people), but she is a lot less afraid to show it off. She’s always wearing the latest fashions and has her nails and makeup freshly done, and whenever she gets a coffee from the shop in Jericho she always leaves a twenty dollar tip or something even more because she just has no idea of how much thinks cost.

A really big part of the reason Padma is so determined to compete academically with Bianca for so long is because, deep down, she’s really afraid of people seeing her as just a stupid, pretty rich girl, when she’s actually wickedly smart and cunning. She’d rather rip out her own teeth than admit this, though, or at least it takes her a long time after they even start dating for her to admit it to Bianca.

Sometimes when Eugene’s not around and she’s stressed, Padma will go to the spot where he keeps his bees and just chill with them to calm herself down. Fairies, being forest creatures by nature, have an innate connection with all plants and insects, even if they don’t have an earth magic affinity, and Eugene’s bees really like Padma and will often bump against her face to say hello to her.

Now let us talk about Gus, my beloved stoner werewolf:

Despite werewolves very rarely maintaining canine characteristics when they’re in human form, Gus very much does - he always gets incredibly excited when someone he likes returns after being gone, even if they were only gone for a few minutes, and if you scratch a certain spot behind his ear he will just melt into a happy puddle.

Gus is also insanely clingy and affectionate when he’s high, and it doesn’t even really matter who it is he’s clinging to; if you’re close by and not already hugging or cuddling someone, you can expect a lap full of Gus, burrowing his head into your shoulder and giving you a bunch of compliments in a hazy voice.

Gus has had a bi flag hung up above his bed in his Nevermore dorm since he first arrived at the school. His first roommate, a haughty psychic who came from a super rich family, made a douchey comment about it, and it didn’t even take a whole week for Gus to report the incident to Weems and get his roommate expelled (Nevermore, thankfully, has a very strict no-discrimination policy). He doesn’t really care if people insult him, but he was not about to let the guy think that kind of behavior was okay and risk him repeating it with someone else.

As kind of a surprise given his general sunny disposition, Gus actually really likes true crime podcasts. On most given nights when there’s not some kind of get-together he needs to provide weed for, you can find him sitting on the window seat in his dorm room, smoking a joint with the window open and with his phone playing a podcast beside him.

Gus’s first kiss was actually with Yoko; it was at a little party thrown for Ajax’s birthday freshman year, after Yoko’s spin landed on Gus during a game of Spin the Bottle. The kiss was really quick, but it was also nice, and Gus is pretty proud to say it was his first kiss (and to tease Yoko about her supposedly wanting to kiss him again, which she always rolls her eyes at him for).

Speaking of Yoko, let’s finish these facts off with her new girlfriend, Holly:

I’m still not going to reveal exactly what Holly is just yet (you know, Alvita, of course, but I’d like to keep it a bit of a secret still), but I can tell you with absolute certainty that she hates it about herself. Despite attending a school full of what most people would consider “monsters,” Holly sees herself as an actual monster, and would give almost anything not to be the way she is.

What she is has also caused a lot of problems between her and her family, and as such, she’s one of only a handful of students who stay at Nevermore year-round, not going home for the holidays or summer break, which only serves to add to the layers of mystery and fear that most Nevermore students have around her.

Holly very nearly gives Xavier a heart attack the first time she speaks to him, after Wednesday defeats the Hyde and she decides to start trying to make friends - which, consequently, is the first time she’s really spoken to another person since coming to Nevermore. He nearly winds up falling off a balcony, she scares him so much, which Holly feels really bad about, but he’s also quick to reassure her about it and strike up a genuine conversation with her.

During the time when she kept to herself and didn’t speak, Holly would usually keep herself busy with embroidering various things, which she learned from her grandmother. She’s incredibly good at it, and even gifts Yoko a handkerchief embroidered with a quote from Dracula for their first anniversary.

Holly’s favorite holiday was always Halloween when she was a kid (coming from a family and a very long line of outcasts, it was kind of inevitable), but due to some very significant reasons from her past she can hardly stand it anymore. She now throws all of the energy she used to put towards Halloween into celebrating Christmas, and though of course everyone around her notices how much she avoids Halloween, they’ve learned by now not to question it.

Thanks again for asking me about my babies!! Love you!! <3

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 1

Prologue / Chapter 2

I’m gonna try to keep translating this book, this chapter’s pretty long but has some interesting explanations on life on Akillian during the ice age. Also, the description of Akillian’s glaciation is... pretty rough! Enjoy~

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1. THE RETURN OF AARCH

“It's absolutely phenomenal! With only a minute left to play and the Akillian players are still holding their own against the last winners of the Galactik Football Cup. In all aspects, the two teams are neck and neck. I’ve never seen anything like it! Akillian finally climbing to the level of the best! Aarch and his teammates show an incredible cohesion, which is likely to destroy the endurance of the Shadows. But anything can still happen! Aarch recovers the ball on the left rear wing… Aarch defends his ball well… he passes back to his brother Norata… Norata immediately sets it up to the middle for Artegor Nexus. Artegor wipes out an opponent, completely reverses the game, and passes to Aarch! Aarch dribbles past one, no, two defenders with amazing ease! He approaches the penalty area... he cocks his shot... but - oh no! Foul! Foul from the Shadow defender!”

Indeed, the latter suddenly materialized in front of the goal in a stringy haze of black smog, and threw himself viciously into Aarch's feet, sending him tumbling onto the turf. On the edge of the stadium, the referee-bot came sliding, flashing its red light of disapproval. The exclusion pod descended on the skinny Shadow defender, wrapped him in its net of red light, and hoisted him ten meters above the ground.

The raging public hissed and booed at the defender who was thus immobilized: taken from the game for a minute, such was the sentence. But Aarch, recovering immediately, addressed to the public and to the offender a noble gesture as if to say, “Come on, it doesn’t matter, the match continues”, which immediately increased his fair play rating. The crowd cheered him: Aarch was very popular on Akillian, and his team was playing at home. But he did not let himself be intoxicated by this unexpected chance to finally win a major victory against the current holders of the coveted Galactik Football Cup. With less than a minute to go, the two teams were still tied: 1-1. This moment was crucial.

“Aarch gets a free kick!” exclaimed the commentator, who was covering the event for TTV, the Technoid channel. “An extremely well-placed free kick, ideal for his magic right foot!”

Magic it was indeed, boosted by the Akillian Breath. Aarch carefully placed his ball, focused, and called out the Breath. He was quickly enveloped with its magnificent energy, which pulsed from him in blue waves. Beside him, his brother Norata encouraged him with a glance. In front of him were the other two Shadows defenders and an attacker, who had come in to replace the defender immobilized by the exclusion pod. They also concentrated, emitting black emanations of the Smog. Behind, in the goal, the goalkeeper was dressed in red and oscillated on the spot, seeking to anticipate the trajectory of the ball.

The announcer continued his comment:

“Aarch places his ball... as usual, he only takes a few steps back... the crowd holds its breath... are we going to witness an unprecedented Akillian victory?”

The audience held their breath: the stadium was packed, but not a whisper came from the stands. Eyes blazing, chest swollen, full of Breath to the max, Aarch took off... his right foot struck the ball with phenomenal force, propelling it towards the goal in a stunning elliptical trajectory, rounding the opposing wall of defence. The ball flew like a bullet right at the Shadow goalkeeper, who reached out to stop it...

It exploded in his hand.

Crumbled into shards of ice, which fell down to the pitch. Aarch, Norata, Artegor and the Shadows defenders remained petrified by this miracle: a ball had never behaved like this! The dumbfounded goalkeeper stared at his hand, which was also beginning to freeze.

The ground began to shake, throwing the players off balance. The stadium creaked on all sides, drowning out the howls of the panicked crowd, who jostled each other trying to reach the exits. What was happening? An earthquake?

The sky over the Arena Stadium had turned pitch black. An inconceivable polar cold invaded the stadium, freezing everything. The pod that held the offending defender fell sharply, crushing the Shadow, who also shattered into bloody ice crystals. The sky was now spewing huge hailstones that swirled and shattered everything in their path, tossed around by a howling wind that descended into the stadium. The coaches' pods crashed to the ground, and so did those for the media. Projectors exploded, screens cracked, the synthetic grass turf, stuffed with sensors, immediately froze in myriads of sharp spikes. In the stands, the uproar, at its height the moment before, also froze in a jumble of frozen limbs, frozen bodies, icy breaths. Only the crackles of the Arena, whose equipment and facilities were breaking under this incredible frost, were still audible amid the howls of the wind, the crackles of hail and the rumble of the ground, which still vibrated.

Swift and quick, the Shadows had already fled. The only ones left on the pitch were the Akillian players, who scampered in all directions and desperately searched for a way out, as everything around them collapsed. Like the others, Aarch had started to run, but with every step his feet froze, with every breath the icy air sheared his lungs. He heard his brother scream behind him, wanted to turn around: the unstable ground gave way under him...

***

- Aaaaaah! Nooo!

Aarch suddenly opens his eyes, sits up in his bed with a start, and looks around him in bewilderment.

He is no longer on the frozen pitch of Akillian's stadium, crumbling around him in a hurricane of snow and ice, but in the warm and comfortable cabin of the Tanaga, his personal ship - named after the most beautiful of the two Akillian moons. Through the wide panoramic view from the cockpit, his home planet sparkles like a sapphire, an almost uniform blue since it has been frozen in the ice. The spaceship approaches it slowly... in fact, it sets its course for Obia, the smaller and duller of the two moons, the closest also, where the spaceport is located. From there, a shuttle-taxi will take him down to Akillian...

Or rather, take them down - because Aarch is not alone on the Tanaga.

His faithful friend Professor Clamp is accompanying him. He shows up at the cabin door, an optronic tester in hand.

- Were you having a nightmare, Aarch?

The latter scratches his head, runs his fingers through his prematurely whitened hair. He sighs.

- No, Clamp. Memories... you know, I’ve had worse.

Clamp - small, stocky, with dishevelled gray hair, big bulging eyes behind his archaic tinted glasses, dressed in an age-old short-sleeved shirt and shapeless pants - walks up to him with his waddling gait, and puts an affectionate hand on his massive shoulder.

Although aged before his time by the trauma suffered on Akillian, Aarch remained very imposing, with his powerful musculature, his bull neck supporting a square head, whose chin is softened by a pointed white goatee. White too, his thick eyebrows stretched to the temples, overhanging blue eyes tending to purple, with a sharp gaze. His thick outfit – a three-quarter-length jacket over black, baggy pants – gives off both a war-like and aristocratic impression: the stuff of a lord.

- Everything is going to be fine, Aarch, don't worry! – says Clamp reassuringly.  With your ideas and my machines, we're going to do a terrific job. We can't be wrong!

- I hope so, Clamp...

The "scrap" that he was repairing - a robot of his own making, which he intended for an astronavigation role to assist at the controls of the Tanaga - is in total overload: on the operating table, its open stomach is smoking, producing crackling sparks. Suddenly an explosion emanates from it, its two arms detach from the chest and fall to the ground.

Clamp throws himself on it to disconnect it before it catches fire, grabs a cable and moves back quickly, uttering a cry: this damn scrap has burnt his palm!

In the cabin, Aarch suppresses a smile.

“No, we can't be wrong,” he thinks. “W just need to make the right connections...”

However, it is not at all certain to find good connections on this bluish planet, which is growing slowly in the panoramic window, this planet which he left for fifteen years... and which is now foreign to him.

***

Since what has come to be called “the Catastrophe”, life has gradually been restored to Akillian. The few inhabitants who chose to remain in the area founded a new capital, New Arcadia, at the foot of the ruins of the old one. A few villages have survived. They attempt to grow timid greenhouse crops, they adapt to this new life as best they can... and sometimes hope is reborn: sometimes the sun manages to pierce the clouds, sometimes the snow turns into rain, sometimes the temperatures rise above zero... one day, this horrible glaciation will only be a bad memory; the trees will bud again, the flowers will bloom in the open air. One day... but when?

Scientists have attributed this sudden and extreme glaciation to a tilting of the planet's orbital axis, but have failed to determine the cause. They’re still getting lost in guesswork.

Meanwhile, for fifteen years, the Red Tigers, Akillian's new official team, have never participated in the Galactik Football Cup. Because - undoubtedly a side effect of the glaciation - the Breath seems to have totally disappeared…

If some rejoice - the Shadows in particular, who have always kept a grudge against these belligerent Humans - others, such as Aarch, dream only of one thing: to return, to rebuild, to contribute with all their efforts and their means. To revive Akillian in the competition. To be the witnesses, if not the actors, of Akillian's awakening...

***

It's an exceptional day for Arcadia, the ancient capital frozen in ice, a sort of angular iceberg located on the edge of the Windy Plateaus, at the foot of which the terraced constructions of New Arcadia are spread out. The thick blanket of clouds that covers the planet has almost completely been torn into a freezing haze soon to be swept by the wind, giving way to the white rays of Vega, the planet’s sun, and letting through a glimpse of the pale crescent of the moon Tanaga. The snow sparkles on the plateau, blinding, the stalactites dripping on the edges of the frosted ridges of abandoned buildings.

In New Arcadia, sheltered from the prevailing winds, the thermometers have climbed above zero, which could almost pass for a heatwave! The inhabitants have opened doors and windows, lounging on the terraces, watching the ice melt on the dead trees - some even go so far as to inspect their branches in search of hypothetical buds. Could it finally be the Akillian spring, so long-awaited for fifteen years? Or just a temporary upturn?

Ballow, bookmaker by trade, is no exception, sprawled on a sofa under the gazebo attached to his sumptuous villa, overlooking a half-thawed pool. Bald and fat, with bags under his eyes, dressed in a Garo fur coat (one of the rare animals to have adapted to the harsh climate), he displays his wealth with ostentation. Wealth officially acquired through the sale of tickets for Galactik Football matches, illegally secured by rigged bets on said matches... and other more shady and illicit activities.

Standing in front of him, a distinguished guest, recognizable by his sharp,  black, claw-like locks, the two long braids that frame his angular face, the anti-UV glasses that permanently hide his eyes, burnt by the cold during the Catastrophe: Artegor Nexus in person.

The former Akillian defender has come a long way in fifteen years: "bought" by the Shadows - along with Aarch - he dabbled with the Smog and found it to his liking, improving and developing his game until he became an essential and brilliant pillar of the Shadows team. But he remained human despite everything: life on the dark and smoky Obscurantis ended up weighing on him... growing in age and eager to return to his home planet, he decided to train the Red Tigers, the official team of Akillian: The League pays him well for this job and offered him a large office in the fancy Federation building. Through a game of influences, he got into the League's Homologation Commission, which selects the teams able to participate in the Galactik Football Cup. Artegor is firmly convinced that he will end up president of the League, because, as he himself says: "The best places go to the best" - and Artegor is the best. In any case, that's what he believes.

Ballow examines an old 2D photo that Artegor has just given him. A small smile stretches his fat lips. The photo is a portrait of Aarch, fifteen years younger.

- Of course I recognize him – he said, leaning back on his sofa. – I saw him play a lot of times when I was young. He was the best attacker we've ever had (he hands the photo back to Nexus)… I had no idea he was back on Akillian. However, when it comes to football, nothing escapes me!

- His return will be very short lived if you do your job properly, retorts Artegor.

- Don't worry, sir. For this kind of job, there’s no one better suited or more efficient than me and my men.

Ballow is interrupted by the appearance of his bodyguards at the edge of the pool, bringing over a smirking kid.

- Boss! This kid wants to see you...

- Let him in.

The kid - rather a teenager in fact, but small for his age - casually crosses the wooden pontoon that runs along the pool and reaches the gazebo. Loose black hair, a large white hooded coat, baggy pants rolled up at the calves, white sneakers on the feet, a necklace of Garo teeth around his neck, a perpetually mocking expression on his thin face, and mischievous gray eyes.

- You should see to improve the reception – he says to Ballow. – A few pretty girls and two or three succulents, that would add more class!

- I don't have the time or the inclination to discuss interior design with you, Micro-Ice – Ballow replies sharply. – I hope you have a good reason to come and disturb me...

Micro-Ice throws a wad of Galactik Football tickets onto the sofa. Ballow stands up, indignant.

- Don't tell me you didn't sell any tickets?!

- It's not my fault that no one wants to buy tickets to go see this hopeless match, even at half price!

Ballow casts a suspicious look, picks up the bundle, and begins to leaf through it.

- I hope you don’t mind me recounting them…

- Oh, you can count? I didn’t know! (Micro-Ice notices Artegor, standing not far from him) Hello, sir!

The coach does not answer, presumably ignoring him. "Hopeless match! The Red Tigers vs. the Rykers! Poor fool!”

The eternal winds of the Windy Plateaus have brought new clouds, which suddenly pour an icy rain: the good weather had been short-lived... Micro-Ice grimaces, lowers his head, curls up in his coat.

- It looks like you don't like the rain, young man – Artegor says haughtily.

- Oh me, you know, I love everything... and everyone! I even love him! – he adds, pointing to Ballow, who gives him a glare. – That just shows how easy-going I am!

- Alright, alright! – growls the big bookmaker, who has finished counting the tickets. – Now shoo!

- O.K., since you asked so nicely... see you guys later!

Micro-Ice sets out again on the pontoon, at the end of which the bodyguards await him. He turns in the middle, giving Ballow a casual wave. Suspicious, he examines the tickets again...

His fingers are full of ink.

The rain that falls on the laminated bundle causes the colors to bleed, diluting the printed patterns.

Fakes, realizes Ballow in shock. Bad photocopies... he immediately calls out to the boy in his booming voice:

- Micro-Ice! What is the meaning of this?! What is this mess?

- Uh..., said the latter, casting a worried glance at the two henchmen planted at the glass door of the villa. You probably won't believe me but... the tickets... uh... someone stole them...

- You're right, I don't believe you at all!

Micro-Ice takes a few steps back, just in front of the thugs who have stepped out onto the pontoon, looking nasty. Quick as lightning, he leaps over the pool, slides on a patch of ice, tumbles down the rocks that border it, and runs down the slope.

- What are you two waiting for? – Ballow yells at his men. – After him!

The two henchmen judge the width of the pool, feel the resistance between their feet and the ice, and finally decide to take the service staircase instead, thus losing precious seconds.

Artegor Nexus turns to the raging bookmaker and smirks at him:

- Tell me, Ballow, are you and your men always this "efficient", or is it just to impress me?

Despite the downpour, the steep streets of New Arcadia are quite busy; the inhabitants of the new capital are used to it, and the rain is a pretty good sign: at least it’s not snow. Among the population that roams the pedestrian streets is a tall, strong figure with white hair, accompanied by a smaller figure with tinted glasses: Aarch and Clamp.

- Aah! – says Aarch, gazing at the houses and the people in delight. – I'm glad to be back, even in this rain!

At the same moment, the downpour stops: the climate always changes very quickly on Akillian, ranging from just cold to freezing or from sun to freezing fog in record time.

- Well, just as you’re talking about it, it’s stopped raining. – Remarks Clamp, extending his hand.

Neither he nor Aarch think of raising their heads - they would have seen a kid leaping above them, jumping from one roof to another. Born in New Arcadia, Micro-Ice knows by heart this town built on the hillside, leaning against the imposing ruins of the old capital. For him, the streets are not always the shortest nor the most practical route: roofs, stairs, terraces, balconies, and rocks often constitute a route that, if not shorter, is at least much more fun.

However, the two thugs chasing him are also locals. He does not manage to lose them – every time he’s about to go down a street, he spots them there. So Micro-Ice takes risks, running on the higher terraces, somersaulting across wider avenues, and gliding over roofs transformed into skating rinks by the sudden return of the frost. During a barely controlled slalom between solar panels planted on a sloping roof (the metal sheets are folded in on themselves, and unfurl when activated by Vega's rays), he suddenly stumbles upon a spacer and loses balance. He crashes into one of the solar panels. Under the sudden weight, the sheet is torn off its base and unfolds under Micro-Ice, thus becoming a sort of improvised sledge. But the metal is very smooth, so the “sledge” has no brakes. Screaming in fear, he picks up speed on the sloping roof, soars through the air... and lands in a snowdrift, raising a cloud of snow, just in front of Aarch and Clamp, who are standing in awe.

They both contemplate this shiny pile of metal for a moment, which begins to move... Micro-Ice's head pops out, half stunned. Aarch suppresses a smile.

- You okay, kid? You’re not hurt, are you?

He holds out his hand to help him up.

- Uh, no, I don't think so... Thank you sir!

Seeing Ballow's men at the end of the street, Micro-Ice sets off again at full speed. In front of Aarch and Clamp, the two henchmen try to act casual, but as soon as they pass them, they start again in pursuit of Micro-lce.

- You didn't tell me that it was raining kids in your home too! – jokes Clamp.

Aarch isn't smiling. Frowning, he watches the two men slip away around the corner.

- Yeah... those guys didn’t look like they wanted to give that kid candy.

- Bah! (Clamp shrugs.) It's none of our business, after all.

- You're right. Let's go see the Arena Stadium… at least what's left of it.

***

Maya lives in a beautiful pink house with large bay windows, leaning against a majestic Cédryan - one of the most imposing trees in Akillian, which can reach a hundred meters in height and whose multi-rooted trunk easily measures ten meters in diameter. Unlike most plants, frozen or in lethargy, Maya's Cédryan has retained its foliage, admittedly scorched by snow and cold, but which awaits to be green again.

Maya claims that it is the tree that gives her her power, but some suspect that at the bottom of the cave where she performs rituals, dug between the roots of the Cédryan, she may have captured a tiny source of the Breath of Akillian... although it never could give the power to predict the future.

Because Maya is clairvoyant.

She interprets the destiny of her clients according to the glares and reflections that emanate from her crystal ball, in combinations known only to her. She is rarely wrong, which has earned her many clients from all over the world. Maya even receives prominent members of the Praesidium, Akillian's government, who come incognito to seek her enlightened opinion on a bill or the results of an electoral campaign... "If the Akillians knew that one or other government decision results from the predictions of a clairvoyant!” Maya sometimes thinks ironically. But, of course, she is kept in the greatest secrecy.

Whoever came to see her today looks austere under his monk's coat and hood, but he is certainly not a member of a religious congregation. Lips pursed, Maya scrutinizes him with her eyes so clear they are almost colorless. A look that is accentuated by her thick red hair tightened under a purple cap, her lean and angular face, and the gold rings that adorn her ears, giving her an aura of mystery and exoticism that increases the confidence of her customers - and the distrust of her critics.

- What exactly do you want to know? - she asks her client, sitting with his head down in front of her, face hidden under the gray hood.

- What will happen to me. – he answers in a voice a little too youthful for his outfit. – The rest... I already know.

- Very well. – says Maia.

Eyelids closed, she concentrates, makes a few passes over her crystal ball, which soon rises in the air, emitting purple gleams. When she opens her eyes, it is not these shards that catch her eye, but that of a bracelet on her client's wrist: a piece of mother-of-pearl set between wooden beads strung on a leather strap. A bracelet that she knows well...

- You want me to tell you what will happen to you? – she resumes sharply. – It's very simple: either take off your hood and apologize, or continue to take me for a fool and I won’t let you in here for at least two weeks!

- W-what? What's the matter with you? – stammers the customer.

- D’jok! ... – sighs Maya, exasperated.

Unmasked, he pulls his hood down, revealing his round cheeks, pointed chin, red hair, green eyes and apologetic expression.

- How did you recognize me?

- I'm a clairvoyant, you seem to forget that. – replied Maya, suppressing a smile in front of the boy's lousy disguise.

- Yeah, yet I'm the only one you don't want to read the future to.

- You're not going to start with that again!

Sulkily, D'jok gets up, goes to stand with his arms crossed in front of the window pierced in the masonry wall, which blocks the entrance to the cave, and which Maya has opened to take advantage of the warmth. He turns around, exclaiming vehemently:

- No, but that's not fair! Already you don't want to tell me anything about my past, you could at least read me my future! I'm sure I have a great destiny, an extraordinary destiny even. I feel it! I'm not your son for nothing!

- Adoptive only, D'jok. You know that.

Yes, D'jok knows that, but it's about the only thing he knows about his origins. Maya took him in as a baby and raised him as her own child - but who exactly is his real mother? And his father? Where are they? Where is he from? Why did Maya never want to tell him? It is to find out - and to know this grandiose destiny to which he feels or believes himself called - that he tries by all means to pull it out of her. He disguises himself in order to pass off as a foreign consultant, he sends his buddies Thran or Micro-Ice; in Maya's absence, he also tries to read the crystal ball, he tries by devious questions to make her confess her secret... it’s a lost cause: Maya is clairvoyant, as she has just reminded him, and she easily thwarts all his tricks.

- Yes, but precisely – he replies. – I would like...

He is suddenly cut off by a mass that has emerged from the window, which falls on him and sends him tumbling to the floor. He utters a cry of fear: a Garo? It seems that these terrible white wolves with saber teeth sometimes venture into town in times of great cold... but today, it is not cold. Well, not too much.

It was only Micro-Ice, who stood up quite out of breath.

- Ahhh! Phew... uh... hello, ma'am! Hi, D'jok...

D’jok gets up, annoyed at having been afraid for nothing.

- Can't you use the doors like everyone else?!

- Oh yeah? Have you seen a door here?

Indeed, the only entrance to Maya’s cave - apart from the window - is a staircase attached to the wall of rock, leading to a large round trap door in the ceiling, which opens to the living room of the house on the ground floor.

Maia scrutinizes Micro-Ice suspiciously, as he positions himself at the corner of the window to look out. He moves back quickly: in the pass below, cut into the hill, the two Ballow thugs come running... They go to the end of the path, which is lost in a maze of rocks, ruins and bushes. No trace of footsteps in the hardened snow… They turn around, observe the houses nearby: this damn kid could have rushed into any one of them, it’s impossible to search.

- Too bad, forget it. – said the youngest of the bodyguards to his colleague. –We’ll get him next time.

- What are we going to tell the boss?

The first shrugs his shoulders.

- I don't know, we... you’ll just have to make up a story.

- Me? Why me? You’re the one who said to let him go!

While arguing, the two minions take a staircase that goes down to the city center. At the window, Micro-Ice watches them walk away with a "phew" of relief.

- Tell me, Micro-Ice, – intervenes Maya. – You didn't get into a mess, I hope?

- Oh no, ma'am! I... we... were just playing hide and seek!

- Hm... I don't need to consult my crystal ball to guess that you’ve done something stupid again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

T/N: Do people ever use dashes for dialogue in the US? I just realised I think I’ve only seen it in European books?

Anyway I always did wonder why Aarch had already gone completely white, even the eyebrows! I thought Artegor’s shades were just a 2000′s design style, but his eyes being damaged from the glaciation is interesting and would explain why he wears them everywhere, even indoors :P

Truth behind Us aka Walls:

We all know that Walls wasn’t the original name for the album, actually it was “Us” so here I’m gonna explain a bit of what I think it’s the behind of scenes. So moving from the introduction I’ll start with this...

SABOTAGE?! Why? And how? I’m gonna make a little timeline to help you understand what happened in October and why it’s considered the month where everything changed.

First, to introduce you to this I’m gonna talk about September. On the 5th, KMM LV came out, being Louis's first single in two years, and following up its MV was dropped on 13th, a day before Louis's show on Madrid, opening a mini series of 3 videos telling an story. When Louis performed there he sang all new songs that were supposed to be on LT1 such as: Too Young, Habit, Defenceless and DLIBYH but we never heard WMI. So if he was introducing the songs on LT1, why don’t sing WMI instead of any other song? Well, personally I believe that WMI wasn’t a song written for LT1 but for LT2 so then why was the second song released as single? And here it’s where I start talking about October.

In October we were supposed to get 'Us' Louis’s solo debut album and it was going to drop unannounced on 23th, so what happened then and why we didn’t get the album when it was supposed to? The answer it’s pretty clear to me. We know the written interview are done by management, sometimes you can get a 10% said by the artist but the articles are always designed by their managers because it’s what the general public reads and the easier way to sell a narrative. Why am I remarking this when it seems obvious? Because in early October, an article by an Australian magazine came out and they said that the album’s name was walls, which was a mistake, walls was supposed to be the second single that follow Louis’s series. And you could think it was just a one time mistake but after that no one clarify or make sure to let us know that it was a mistake. Announcing an album's name just like that, in an article, doesn’t help to reach out for more people, to get more new public and to get the reception that you would wish for a debut album.

So from that moment on, the one in which Louis’s team screwed that article, things changed. The album was delayed and now instead of coming out on October 2019, it’s doing it in January 2020. The album won’t follow an order anymore and the timeline/story he wanted to tell it was ruined by the sabotage. Some songs of LT1 were written for LT2 and vice versa. Louis’s plan had to be thrown at the bin and Syco got away with their plan: making Louis stay at Syco longer and somewhat shutting Louis down because they’re afraid of the power he has and the things he can do.

Let’s continue to November; DLIBYH was supposed to come out on Nov 22nd according to several guesses accounts but short before that could happen performance of Louis in TXF was announced and also we got a video in which he looks sad and tired. If you look for the reason to this I’m gonna give you a hint, his label. He has been fighting for his freedom and to stop them from keep pushing him. Things that he wanted to do but the label didn’t want them to happen. Also Louis wasn’t supposed to be related to TXF after 2018, why? Because he did a deal with Simon, in exchange for something that Louis wished he had to be on the show with Simon for a year but that was all. Even if the official contract hadn’t finished, their off-book agreement payed off for the debts. And this leaves to see something crystal clear: Simon Cowell it’s not man to trust and he doesn’t keep with his part of the deal, so officially as the contract wasn’t finished he pushed more and made Louis perform at the show, and probably he blackmailed Louis or threatened him.

Moving on to January, Walls was released 2 weeks before the album release and suddenly Syco remembered that Louis was a client of theirs and promoted Walls three times. They were and are desperate, they’ll waste till their last resources with the goal of keeping Louis with them. Louis was as solo artist with Syco since 2016, but they remembered that Louis existed 2 weeks before the album came out like if that meant something for a sec.

Now what’s most important about this is that Louis’s contract is coming to an end in the next few days so Syco it’s having released so many articles as they can because they desperate, they know that they have to end the stunts and the clock it’s ticking, they ran out of time and there’s nothing they can do to reverse what’s coming. Louis is fighting to win and he has great resources and sources to win. All the messed up things that we had to bear seeing is just a little less than a quarter to what really is happening behind the scenes and we know that after the storm comes the sun shines and a beautiful rainbow it’s formed on the sky.

Once Louis is free I’m pretty sure he’ll stick as an independent artist, just like Billie Eilish, and he’ll start working from there. Later on the future he’ll make some changes to the label, might try to work with other artists, unify with another solo label and create one that could become in an empire.

J/H 3-20: Fez Dates Donna

You'll notice that the "B" plot of Kelso and Jackie as friends was cut from "Kitty's Birthday." That's an important step for both characters, even with Jackie/Hyde running through this version of the season. So you can find it as the "B" story here - with a significant role for Hyde to play...

(We're also assuming that changes to production order continue, with "Holy Craps!" becoming 3-19 without any other changes, and this episode following after.)

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SHOW TITLE   MUSIC NOTE: “So Very Hard to Go” by Tower of Power.   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   The gang laze around. “So Very Hard to Go” plays on the radio. HYDE sits in his chair, reading a newspaper. ERIC and KELSO stand behind the couch, tossing a small ball back and forth. DONNA and JACKIE sit on the couch. Jackie has her coat on and her bag over her shoulder.   JACKIE: Hey, Donna, wanna go to the mall? Rerun from What’s Happening!! is opening up the new Dairy Queen.   DONNA: Actually, Jackie, as fun as that sounds... um, no.   She picks up a magazine from the coffee table and dives into it.   Kelso, who has the ball, whips his head around. He tosses the ball back toward Hyde’s room (where it makes a loud crash) and jumps over the couch to sit on Jackie’s left.   KELSO: (to Jackie) What? “Hey hey hey!” I’m in.   Jackie thinks for a second, then nods.   JACKIE: Okay. Just give me one second.   She stands and heads up the stairs. Kelso leans back and spreads his arms out over the back of the couch.   Donna looks up from the magazine.   DONNA: (to Kelso) So you two are finally getting along?   KELSO: Yep. It’s this new thing we’re trying. We’re friends.   Donna smiles and turns back to her magazine.   KELSO (cont’d): Yeah. See, that’s Phase One.   Donna puts the magazine down, Hyde snaps his newspaper down, and Eric sits on the back of the couch behind Donna.   DONNA: Oh, God.   Kelso turns towards his friends, a big grin on his face.   KELSO: See, I did some reflecting, and I realized that Jackie is the only girl I wanna be with.   ERIC: (beat) Today?   KELSO: No, every day. See, we were meant to be together. She just doesn’t know it yet. So the plan is - see, she wants to be just friends, right? Okay, so I’ll be her friend. But what she doesn’t realize is that I’m also a boy. Yeah, and sooner or later, “friend” is gonna lead down the path to “boy.” And then I’ll be her friend-boy.   The others just stare, dumbfounded by dumb. Eric finally manages to nod.   ERIC: (flat) Kelso, this may be your greatest plan ever.   Oblivious to tone, Kelso nods like a spastic child.   Jackie comes back down the stairs and nabs her beret from on top of the speakers.   JACKIE: Okay, I’m ready.   KELSO: Let’s go, friend.   They head out the door.   HYDE: That is his worst plan ever.   He puts his newspaper back up. Eric and Donna share a knowing look.   DONNA: (to Hyde) Yeah, it’s only good when you do it, right?   HYDE: (beat) Excuse me?   DONNA: Come on, Hyde. Just drop the act. (doing Hyde) “Fine, Jackie, I’ll give you a ride. Okay, Jackie, I’ll teach you to play chess.”   ERIC: (doing Hyde) “Whatever, Jackie, I’ll show you the basics of vandalism and larceny.”   They laugh. Hyde crumples his newspaper and chucks it at Eric, then turns toward the TV, arms crossed tight.   DONNA: Face it, Hyde: ever since that one date with Jackie, you’ve been doing whatever you can to spend time with her. You’re just like Kelso.   ERIC: Not quite, Donna. See -   He adopts a pose of mock-thought.   ERIC (cont’d): With Kelso, it’s like Jackie has a stupid horndog puppy that will do anything she says but sometimes needs a time-out for humping someone’s leg. But with Hyde, I’m thinking more of a scrappy, angry guard dog who won’t let you pet him because, you know, he was abandoned, but deep down is really just desperate for one person – just one person – to protect, love, and be loved in return.   He and Donna both make long puppy-dog faces at Hyde, even with his back half-turned. He takes a deep breath, then launches himself at Eric. They fall back behind the couch, fighting, as Donna cracks up.   BUMPER   INT. HUB - DAY   FEZ sits at the wall table, slurping happily at a soda while he does homework.   The bathroom door swings open, and CAROLINE is there, with a less-than-cheering smile.   CAROLINE: Hi, Fez!   Fez screams and moves as far down as the booth seat will allow.   FEZ: Caroline! What are you doing?   Caroline strolls out to stand over Fez.   CAROLINE: I knew you’d be in here. I’ve been watching you.   FEZ: Caroline, you have to leave me alone.   CAROLINE: (stomps foot) But I wanna be with you!   FEZ: But I told you, we’re through because I am with Donna. Yes? Remember Donna?   CAROLINE: Well, you better be, because if you’re not, that means you still love me. And if you still love me, but you’re not with me, I’ll find out, and I’ll make you pay.   FEZ: (scoffs) Well, that would only be scary if I was lying about Donna and me.   He giggles nervously, slowly trailing off under the pressure of Caroline’s dagger eyes.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Eric is alone on the couch, going over homework spread out over the coffee table. Fez bursts in through the basement door and hurries to Eric’s side.   FEZ: Oh, Eric! I’m so afraid. When I broke up with crazy Caroline, I told her I was dating Donna. But I’m not dating Donna, you are dating Donna. (beat) Could I borrow Donna?   Eric sets his pencil down and considers things for a minute.   ERIC: (shrugs) Sure.   He goes right back to his homework as Fez sighs with relief and pats Eric on the shoulder.   CUT TO:   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY   A pleasant enough afternoon. BOB is bent over, using a measuring tape on the pavement near the hedges. RED walks up behind him.   RED: Need something, Bob?   Bob snaps the tape shut and stands.   BOB: Well, it’s a funny thing. The wife and I, we’re taking out a second mortgage on the house. Well, that’s not the funny part ‘cause we’re pretty much destitute.   RED: (beat) It’s a little bit funny, Bob.   BOB: Anyways, I’m looking at the deed to the property. And the map shows that I own a couple feet of your driveway and a little bit of your garage.   RED: (beat) How’d you like to own a little bit of my foot in your ass?   BOB: (beat) I wouldn’t, to be quite honest.   RED: It’s free.   They stand there, halfway between amicable and hostile.   CUT TO:   INT. MALL – DAY   It’s not the Kenosha outlet, but it’s all Point Place has. A few shoppers walk the floor as Jackie and Kelso admire some well-dressed mannequins in a store window. Kelso points to one in particular.   KELSO: See, the boatneck adds dimension to your shoulders, and the plum color, that really accents your jewel-toned eyes.   Jackie gapes at him, impressed.   JACKIE: Oh, my God. Michael, you just selected my perfect outfit. You are so good at this!   KELSO: Yeah, I have a knack for ensembles.   They both take in the mannequin some more, beaming.   JACKIE: You know, Michael, I’m really enjoying our new friendship together.   KELSO: Really? Me, too.   JACKIE: Yeah, you know, the makeup, shopping, braiding each other’s hair... you are like the perfect girlfriend.   KELSO: Well, thanks, Jackie. (beat) Wait... girlfriend?   JACKIE: Yeah. I mean, Donna’s nice and everything, but she kind of dresses like a trucker.   She adjusts her bag and heads inside the store. Kelso just stands by the window, pouting. He scratches behind his ear in a rather dog-like manner.   Jackie sticks her head out of the entrance.   JACKIE (cont’d): Michael?   With a jump and a little half-yip, Kelso follows her inside.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Closer to evening than afternoon. Donna and Eric sit on one end of the couch, Eric’s arm behind her, while Fez stands by the other end.   FEZ: Donna, I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help me with Caroline.   DONNA: Hey, anything for a friend. But if she tries to hurt me, I’m using you as a shield.   FEZ: Likewise.   ERIC: (to Donna) Hey, I just thought of something: if you’re gonna be with Fez, I’ll be back to living the single life.   DONNA: Oh, now you won’t get to take me to see The Turning Point.   ERIC: (mocking) The ballerina movie? Oh, no.   Donna shakes her head, taking his sarcasm in stride.   BUMPER   INT. HUB – NIGHT   Teens chilling out at the tables, plenty of witnesses – it’s show time for Fez and Donna. They stand near the juke box, Donna relaxed and Fez not quite so.   FEZ: So, our first date. I guess we’re officially a couple now. A couple of knuckleheads, huh? (laughs) Oh, I make me laugh.   Donna humors him with a silent laugh herself.   Caroline enters and stakes out a position just a few feet back from Fez and Donna. Her eyes are squarely fixed on them.   DONNA: (whispers) Oh, there she is.   FEZ: (whispers) Okay. Show time.   He feeds a quarter into the juke box. “I Only Want To Be With You” as covered by the Bay City Rollers kicks on, and Fez and Donna begin to dance, to Caroline’s disgust. We begin a:   MONTAGE. SET TO THE SONG. The entire date, condensed.   A) Fez and Donna share a soda with twirly straws while Caroline pouts behind them.   SONG (v.o.): I don’t know what it is that makes me love you so I only know I never want to let you go...   B) They arm wrestle, which Donna wins (Fez turns away to hide the pain in his wrist).   SONG (v.o.): ‘Cause you started something. Can’t you see That ever since we met, you’ve had a hold on me...   C) They share a basket of fries, bumping hands as they both reach in, feeding each other, and chowing down on an extra-long one to meet in the middle for a kiss, even as Caroline’s suspicious face pops up between them.   SONG (v.o.): It happens to be true I only wanna be with you   It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do I want to spend each moment of the day with you Look what has happened with just one kiss I never knew I could be in love like this...   The montage ends back at the dancing. Fez gets Donna into a dip.   SONG (v.o.): It’s crazy, but it’s true I only want to be with you   You stopped and smiled at me -   The others in the Hub applaud, but Caroline yanks the juke box’s chord and stomps outside. Recovering, Fez and Donna trade high-fives. Once again, Fez turns away to hide his limp wrist.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   Eric living the single life. He may be enjoying it, but it’s not a pretty sight: chip bags and a pizza box littering the coffee table, and Eric in just a T-shirt and boxers.   ERIC: (stretching) Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So, should I watch a ballerina movie or Get Smart? (snaps fingers) Get Smart it is. That’s right, I said Get Smart.   He gets up and flips on the TV. On his way back to the couch, he takes the last slice of pizza from the box.   ERIC (cont’d): I’m sorry, Donna? Did you want the last piece? Well, it’s too late. That’s right, I said “too late.” Yeah, just me in my natural state here, baby. I’m dirty, I’m lazy, and I don’t wear pants.   He laughs, munches away at the pizza. His expression shifts; we don’t need the noise to know what he just did.   ERIC (cont’d): Yeah, that was me. That’s right, that was me.   He finishes off the pizza and sinks even deeper into the couch.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN GARAGE - DAY   The next morning. Bob is at Red’s worktable, clearing space. He’s already made quite a pile on the ground behind him.   Red and KITTY march over to Bob.   RED: Bob, that’s my stuff! You put the hell back my stuff!   BOB: Sorry, Red. It was in my part of the garage.   He keeps clearing off the table.   KITTY: (to Bob) What are you talking about? (to Red) What is he talking about?   RED: Kitty – Kitty, let me talk to him. (to Bob) Bob, get the hell out of my garage!   BOB: Fine.   He takes one exaggerated step back toward the table, grinning.   BOB (cont’d): There ya go.   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - NIGHT   Much later in the day. Eric shuffles cards in the lawn chair, Hyde reads a magazine in his chair, and Jackie sits at the couch, homework spread out over the coffee table.   JACKIE: You know, Mr. Winslow’s class isn’t nearly as tough as Donna made it sound. He’s the first English teacher since sixth grade to let me do a book report on Nancy Drew.   Hyde looks up, disgusted.   JACKIE (cont’d): Now, I just have to decide between The Sky Phantom or The Strange Message in the Parchment.   HYDE: Oh, how about The Mindless Cookie-Cutter Dreck?   He blows a raspberry. Jackie scowls at him.   JACKIE: Whatever. It got Mr. Winslow’s “okay.”   HYDE: Jackie, we call Mr. Winslow “Mr. Wino.” That whole assignment is crap, but if you’re gonna do it, you could at least read something that makes you think.   JACKIE:  Oh, thinking’s your answer to everything!   She folds her arms and pouts.   HYDE:  Come on, man. There’s so much out there. Fear and Loathing, The Drifters, In Watermelon Sugar...   The last title catches Jackie’s interest.   JACKIE: Is that last one a cookbook? Because I do love sweetened watermelon.   Hyde gives her a long look, then tosses his magazine aside and stands.   HYDE: That’s it. Get your coat.   He starts walking toward the door. Confused, Jackie hurries after, nabbing her coat from the back of the couch.   JACKIE: Where’re we going?   HYDE: The library.   JACKIE: (scoffs) Oh, come on. Steven, it’s past seven. The library’s closed by now.   HYDE: You got a bobby pin?   Jackie’s hand goes to her hair.   JACKIE: Yeah...   HYDE: Then it ain’t gonna be closed for long.   He opens the door, letting a still-confused Jackie exit first. Eric looks over his shoulder at Hyde and grins.   ERIC: (as if to a dog) Aww... such a good guard dog. Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Yes he is, isn’t he?   Hyde lunges, frogs Eric in the arm, and leaves.   Once the door is closed, Eric gets to his feet and starts undoing his belt.   ERIC: Thank God. I thought they’d never leave.   He manages to get one-and-half pants legs free when Donna comes in through the door. Without even looking up, Eric pulls his pants back up and sits on the couch.   DONNA: No, no. Don’t get all gussied up for me. I just came by to make sure you’re okay. You know, not too lonely without me.   ERIC: What, are you kidding me? I’m having a great time! I – I feel like I’ve really learned a lot about Eric.   Donna sits next to him.   DONNA: Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re having fun.   ERIC: Oh, but, what about you? Pretending to be Fez’s girlfriend has to be kind of a drag, right?   DONNA: No! Fez is great. Last night he took me to play putt-putt, and tonight he’s taking me on a hayride. Fez is so charming. You know, I can see why Caroline’s stalking him.   ERIC: (beat) You know, I would’ve taken you on a hayride –   DONNA: Eric – the important this is that you’re having a great time, and I’m having a great time. So have a great time.   ERIC: No, you have a great time.   DONNA: Oh, I will.   She rises and leaves.   ERIC: Well, I will too!   Eric jumps up, fully takes off his pants, and stands tall in the Superman pose.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY   Early morning, before school. Eric, still without pants, lies across the couch, magazines and junk food bags littered around him. Fez sits in the lawn chair, contented.   FEZ: Eric, I cannot thank you enough for lending me your girlfriend. It feels so good to be in a normal, healthy relationship.   ERIC: Fez, it’s a fake, pretend relationship.   FEZ: You say “tomato,” I say “tomato.”   He’s missed the point of the phrase; the pronunciations are the same.   ERIC: Fez, “to-mah-to.”   FEZ: What?   ERIC: You say “to-mah-to.”   FEZ: Why would I say “to-mah-to?” That’s not even a word, dummy.   ERIC: (beat) Yeah, I’m sorry.   FEZ: It’s okay, Eric. Different strokes for different strokes.   Eric considers, but lets that one go.   ERIC: Right.   FEZ: All I know is, if I was married to a woman like Donna it would be heavens. Oh, the hijinks we would get into.   He smiles, shakes his head, and looks up. We cut to:   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – DAY   FANTASY SEQUENCE. BLACK AND WHITE. The heart from I LOVE LUCY covers the screen, then fades away. Fez, as Ricky, strolls in through the front door and slips his jacket off.   FEZ:  Lucy, I’m home!   DONNA (v.o.): Ricky, is that you?   Donna, as Lucy, staggers in from the kitchen, grimacing. The whole front of her dress and apron is covered in molasses. Fez lets out the Ricky laugh.   FEZ: Lucy, what happened to you?   DONNA: Oh, Ricky, I was making molasses cookies for your band and I had an accident!   She cries and Fez laughs.   FEZ: Oh, Lucy.   He gives her a big hug. When he tries to let go, however, he can’t.   FEZ (cont’d): Uh-oh.   DONNA: Ricky – we’re stuck!   The doorbell rings.   FEZ: I’ll get it.   He tries to get free again, but they’re good and stuck. He waddles toward the door, pulling Donna with him, muttering in Spanish all the while. After hopping up the steps, he manages to get the door.   In step Red and Kitty as Fred and Ethel. Kitty has a large bowl of flower in her hands.   RED: Hi, neighbors!   KITTY: Lucy, I brought you that flour for your cookies.   DONNA: Oh, Ethel, you’re a pal.   Red and Kitty take notice of the position Fez and Donna are in.   KITTY: Gee, Fred, would it hurt you to hug me like that?   RED: Well, probably not, but why take the chance?   FEZ: Hey, Fred, we got a sticky situation here. You wanna help us out?   RED: Sure, Rick.   He gets his arms between them as well as he can and starts to push them apart. The effort starts spinning all three of them around the room.   DONNA: Watch it, Fred!   RED: Boy, you kids really are stuck!   As he says this, his efforts pay off. Fez and Donna split apart, and Donna spins around until she lands face-first into Kitty’s bowl of flour. She lifts her head up, her face caked in white, and lets out the Lucy whine as the fantasy fades out.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Back to the present. Fez chuckles at the scene he’s just imagined.   FEZ: Oh, Lucy.   He hops to his feet.   FEZ (cont’d): (to Eric) Well, I’m off to romance our lady.   He heads for the door. Eric sits up.   ERIC: Oh – hey, Fez? Donna hasn’t been – I don’t know – like, mentioning me or anything?   FEZ: No.   He exits.   ERIC: Well, that’s – that’s okay. That’s good, ‘cause I haven’t been talking about her either. Of course, I’ve been alone, so I’d just be talking to myself. And that’s not normal. Have to be pretty crazy to talk to myself, wouldn’t I? Yes, I would. (beat) Okay, I gotta get some pants.   BUMPER   EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY   School has just let out, and kids are heading to their cars or lingering in the lot. Jackie and Kelso lean against the El Camino, looking appraisingly at a BUXOM BLONDE in a tight sweater nearby.   JACKIE: God, would you look at her boobs?   KELSO: (scoffs) I am. And it’s – it’s disgusting. I mean, what is she thinking, packing in those sweet melons like that? I can’t even look away.   Jackie looks up at Kelso and smiles.   JACKIE: See, Michael? This is the kind of thing that a girl needs her girlfriend for.   Kelso gets a very fixed smile himself.   The blonde waves to Jackie, and she walks over to talk with her. Once Jackie is gone, Kelso’s face slips into a pout, and he balls up his fists and stomps his foot as Hyde comes up by his side.   KELSO: (to Hyde) Man, what the heck makes Jackie think I’m her girlfriend? All I’ve done was pick out a few of her outfits, paint her nails, give her a facial, and talk with her about other chicks’ jugs.   HYDE: Gee, I don’t know, Denise.   KELSO: Man, it’s not fair! I mean, she hangs out with you a bunch and she doesn’t call you her girlfriend. (beat) Wait... wait, are you – man, you said there was nothing going on between you two! But you keep taking her places and teaching her stuff – you stole my plan, didn’t you?   Hyde gives Kelso a long look.   HYDE: Kelso, as your friend – hand on heart, swear to God – I have never even been tempted to steal one of your plans.   Kelso’s face scrunches up, trying to figure out if that comes to a burn.   Jackie crosses back to the boys and pokes Hyde in the chest.   JACKIE: Hey, you. So it turns out “Mr. Wino” wasn’t happy about me changing books for my report. I already lost one grade point. The police went by the library today. And In Watermelon Sugar is giving me a splitting headache.   KELSO: (to Jackie) Pfft, books. What good are they? I mean, who needs to read when you’re totally hot?   JACKIE: (to Kelso) That’s true... (to Hyde) But, I have to admit – I don’t understand it, but I think I’m enjoying thinking about it.   Hyde gives her the smallest of approving smiles, and she smiles back. Kelso looks nervously back and forth between them.   Caroline stomps up behind the three of them, unseen.   CAROLINE: HEY!   They all jump. Jackie screams. Kelso lets out a high, puppy-like cry, rolls over the hood of the El Camino, and disappears underneath it.   Caroline advances on Jackie, her nails held up and her eyes bugging out.   CAROLINE (cont’d): Where is she? Where is that big, dumb, red, moose friend of yours with my Fez? WHERE?   She grabs at Jackie. Hyde gets between them, and Jackie holds onto the back of his jacket.   HYDE: (gruff, growling) Hey, can it, Carrie! They’re going to a movie and they left already. Now go on! Scram! Get!   With each shout he advances, and his voice becomes more of a bark. Caroline retreats, though she never stops glaring at Hyde.   Kelso gets up from under the car. A dark, oily streak runs down his face, shirt, and jacket.   HYDE (cont’d): Well, looks like I’ve got an oil leak. (to Jackie) You think you and Denise here can find another ride home?   Kelso makes a whimpering puppy-dog face before stomping his way back into school, wiping at his face and shirt. Jackie and Hyde share a commiserating look.   BUMPER   INT. PINCIOTTI KITCHEN - DAY   Bob and MIDGE sit at the table, preparing an afternoon snack of coffee, toast, and jam. Their kitchen door flies open, and in march a peeved Kitty and Red.   KITTY: All right, hand over my preserves. They were in our garage, and now they’re not.   MIDGE: Oh, that’s terrible, Kitty. Why don’t you sit down and relax with some toast and homemade jam? We found it in our garage.   KITTY: Jam?   MIDGE: Yeah. We found it in our garage.   RED: It’s our garage!   KITTY: And that’s my jam!   Midge is spreading jam over a piece of toast. Just as she’s about to take a bite, Kitty takes the toast, smears it across the lip of the jam jar, and hands it back to Midge.   KITTY (cont’d): Bon appétit!   Bob stands.

  BOB: You know, you two just don’t get it, do you? That jam was on my property. I’ll show you the deed.   He reaches into a drawer in the island and pulls out a MAP. He opens it up and slaps at a given point.   BOB (cont’d): There’s my lot... there’s yours... there’s the property line, right there.   Red studies the map and rolls his eyes. With just a bit of flair, he takes the map from Bob and turns it right-side up.   BOB (cont’d): (beat) Oops.   RED: Well, looks like I own part of your property.   BOB: (beat) I, uh... I will not stand for this trickery! You get out of my house.   RED: No problem.   Red takes one exaggerated step toward the kitchen door, stops, and grins.   CUT TO:   INT. THEATER - NIGHT   A thin crowd out to see THE TURNING POINT. Fez waits alone in a middle seat in the middle row. Donna comes in on his right.   DONNA: Okay, no one answered the phone at Eric’s house. What could he be doing? Where could he go with no pants?   FEZ: Donna, when we’re in public, you are with me. Eric is dead to you.   In the row behind them, Caroline makes her way toward the middle seats.   CAROLINE: (to one patron) Pardon me. (to another) MOVE IT!   She finally manages to claim a seat right behind Fez and Donna.   FEZ: (to Donna) Oh, boy. Here comes trouble. (to Caroline) Caroline. (laughs) I was just, um, offering my girlfriend Donna a sip from my straw. We don’t care about germs, because she has had her tongue in my mouth.   Neither girl looks charmed by that, but when Fez offers Donna a drink, she takes one.   CAROLINE: You know what I think? I think this is all an act. I don’t think you’re really dating.   FEZ: (beat) Well, maybe... maybe this will convince you.   He throws himself at Donna and starts to make out.   FEZ (cont’d): (whispering) Come on, Donna, put some leg into it!   Instead, Donna shoves him back into his seat.   CAROLINE: Give me a break. If you were really together, you’d have at least gotten to second base by now.   FEZ: You know, when you are right, you are right.   He reaches for Donna’s chest, but she slaps his hand down – hard. Donna turns back toward Caroline.   DONNA: All right, all right – enough. Caroline, Fez doesn’t like you.   CAROLINE: (beat) Is that true, Fez?   FEZ: (wincing) Yes?   CAROLINE: Wow. I guess we really are over. (beat) Okay! Enjoy your movie.   All sunshine, Caroline gets up and heads back down the row. On her way out, she steps on one PATRON’s foot, a patron in a sweatshirt with a hand over his face.   PATRON: Ow.   CAROLINE: Sorry.   PATRON: It’s okay.   The patron looks up; it’s Eric.   CAROLINE: Hey, Eric! Lookin’ good. Call me.   She clicks her tongue and exits.   Donna and Fez take notice of Eric, turn back to face him.   DONNA: Eric, what are you doing here?   Eric points at the screen.   ERIC: Are you kidding me? It’s The Turning Point! I love ballet movies. They make you think, you know? How did their feet get so pointy? That’s a mystery I’m determined to solve.   Donna smiles at him and shakes her head.   ERIC (cont’d):  What?   DONNA: You miss me.   ERIC: Well, you missed me.   DONNA: I really did.   They smile at one another. Eric steps over the seats, sits next to Donna, and they begin to kiss.   Fez, looking on, reclaims attention with a wave.   FEZ: (to Eric) Excuse me. Our date is not over. Now good day, sir.   ERIC: But Fez -   FEZ: I said, “good day.”   ERIC: Fez, I’m not going anywhere.   FEZ: (beat) Fine. Then good day.   He stands and heads up the aisle.   DONNA: Fez -   FEZ: I said, “good day!”   Eric and Donna shrug, smile, and settle in to watch the movie, Eric’s arm around Donna’ shoulders.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. FORMAN DINING ROOM - NIGHT   FANTASY SEQUENCE. BLACK AND WHITE. THE CIRCLE. Kitty, as Ethel, is eating a brownie.   KITTY: Lucy, these brownies are wonderful! They make me feel silly.   She scarfs the whole thing down in one go.   Pan to Donna, as Lucy.   DONNA: Don’t you just love these dried mint flakes? Someone sold ‘em to me off the street!   Pan to Red, as Fred.   RED: I don’t think these are mint flakes. I’m flyin’!   Pan to Fez, as Ricky.   FEZ: Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!   He does the Ricky laugh.   END.

waited so long to say this to you

Five times they say "I do" (and one they don't).

- part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 -

“And now the forecast is saying there’s a thirty percent chance of rain! I know that’s not a guarantee, but it was only twenty percent when I looked yesterday, so it’s getting— What— Why are you stopping? What are we doing?”

Patrick pulls the car onto the grassy shoulder and puts it in park, ignoring the protests of his clearly over-stressed fiancé. He reaches behind the seat to dig through the insulated bag he’d managed to sneak into the car while David was ranting about all the ways Alexis has been adding to his to-do list since she got back last week, emerging with two pints of ice cream and two spoons. He hands the cookies and cream to David whose face does a thing where his eyes go big and wide with surprise while his mouth goes small and soft. It’s a study in contradictions, just like David himself, and it’s one of Patrick’s favorite looks; he cherishes every time he can manage to make it appear.

“What’s this?” David asks.

“You’re stressed about the wedding.” David scowls, as if Patrick is pointing out some dark secret. As if the pitch and cadence and length of his ranting over the last hour hadn’t given him away. “So we’re taking a break from the to-do list. Just for a few minutes,” he adds as panic begins to well up in David’s eyes. “We can have some ice cream, relax, and then we’ll go back home and tackle whatever else needs to be done tonight. So dig in before it gets too melty.”

For a moment, it looks like David might protest, but then he sags back against his seat, pulling the lid from the container. “I don’t like it when it’s melty.”

“I know.”

They eat in comfortable silence for a while, Patrick enjoying his maple walnut, feeding David a spoonful every time he takes a break from inhaling his own. Patrick loves how much David loves ice cream, loves the way his eyes close on the first bite, the way he lets it sit on his tongue for a moment before he swallows, relishing it like he’d forgotten just how good it is. Loves the way the rest of the pint disappears in exactly the opposite way, consumed with manic, childlike glee and gone before Patrick can finish a quarter of his own. Loves the way David will complain later, curled up in their bed with a bellyache, and Patrick will rub soothing circles into his skin and kiss him till it’s better.

“Why here?” David asks when he drops the spoon into his empty pint, looking out the window at Town Hall directly across the street.

It’s where they’re getting married next week. Precisely one week from today, they’ll be inside, somewhere in the middle of their ceremony, perhaps reciting their vows or sliding rings onto each other’s fingers. Patrick thinks he’ll probably be crying, whatever they’re doing. The happy tears will probably start the moment he sees David and won’t stop until sometime around their 50th anniversary. Maybe not even then.

He leans across the seat to kiss his fiancé, sticky and sweet, his cold tongue warmed by the heat of David’s, relishing the fizzy laughter he can taste there.

“Tell me about the rain,” he says when they part.

“It’s only a thirty percent chance.” The words are much less frantic this time, like David could be talking about the weather for tomorrow or some other day that isn’t their wedding day. “It’s probably nothing,” he says confidently, turning in his seat to lean back against the door, and Patrick watches the way his eyes slide over to look at Town Hall again, a soft, wistful smile settling across his lips.

“Probably,” Patrick agrees. “But what’s the backup plan if we need it?”

This is what they do. It’s what they’ve done with the store and what they’ve done in their relationship, and now it’s what they’re doing with their wedding. David handles the dreams. Patrick handles reality. It works for them. It works really fucking well.

“Jocelyn is bringing the umbrellas the Jazzagals used for that Singin’ in the Rain medley. They’re fugly and yellow, but people only need them to get to the cafe, where we can move the reception inside if needed, so it’s going to be fine.” David says the last part like he’s practiced it, and in truth, he has. They’ve gone through their plans, their backup plans, the schedule for the day, the catering menu, their song selections, all of it enough that they both have the whole of the day memorized. Patrick feels like there’s nothing they haven’t prepared for, which is just the way he likes it. Sometimes David just needs to be reminded of that.

“And what if the power goes out?”

“The ceremony will be fine because it’s early enough and there are plenty of windows,” David recites. “There’s an extra case of Jennifer’s candles in the stock room at the store if we need them for the reception. Stevie is letting us borrow that ancient”—he swallows thickly, the next word sticking in his throat for a moment before he manages to free it—“boombox from the motel, which we can use as speakers for your phone. The batteries for it and a portable charger for your phone are already in the emergency bag.”

“You develop a sudden rash?”

“Cold compress and tea tree oil. If that doesn’t work, Alexis’s makeup. If that doesn’t work, Mom’s stage makeup. Absolute last resort: Photoshop.”

“We spill something on our tuxes?”

“My backup sweater and pants are already in my bag. You’ll wear the cashmere sweater I got you for your birthday and those grey slacks that make your ass look so good.”

Patrick gives him a knowing smirk. “You always think my ass looks good.”

“What? It’s a good ass!” He laughs, bright and loud, absolutely beautiful in his happiness, before his mouth twists into something sweeter and shier. “I’m gonna marry that ass.”

The smirk on Patrick’s face grows into a grin nearly too big to be contained. “And here I‌ thought you loved me for my sparkling personality.”

“Oh, I love that, too, but your ass is the real draw here.”

He chuckles and drops a happy kiss to David’s knuckles, brushing his thumb across the four rings he’d put there just a few months ago, the four rings that mean at this time next week David will be his husband. “Is this helping?”

David nods. “Yeah, just… can we keep going?”

They have a long, frighteningly extensive list of backup plans for every worst case scenario they could think of, from the mundane to the unlikely and absurd. Patrick is pretty certain they won’t need to use their backup plan for what happens if a member of the wedding party becomes possessed by a demonic entity, but if it makes David feel better to have a plan just in case, Patrick is more than happy to give him one (isolate the possessed person in the bathroom if possible, remove everyone else from the area if not, send another member of the wedding party to the church to get a priest).

He drops his melting container of ice cream into the cup holder and takes David’s hands to run through the rest of the list. “The caterer doesn’t show?”

“We order delivery from Panucci’s.”

“The cake collapses?”

“There are mini cupcakes in the freezer at the store.”

“The heel on one of your mother’s shoes breaks?”

“Dad’s bringing an extra pair in the car.”

“The officiant doesn’t show?”

“Roland—god forbid—conducts the ceremony from the copy of the script saved on Stevie’s phone.”

“An osprey gets loose in Town Hall?”

“We— What the fuck is an osprey?”

Patrick bites back a laugh, swallowing hard to try to keep it from spilling out of his mouth. He doesn’t do a very good job of it. “A big bird. Like a hawk.”

David glares at him, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward in spite of him. “You were in charge of the backup plans, and I don’t think you made one for that. Now if an ostrich—”

“Osprey.”

“—interrupts our vows, it’s going to be all your fault, Patrick Brewer.”

Patrick grins and grins and grins some more, so incredibly in love with this man and the dramatic pout now aimed his way. “Well we wouldn’t want that,” he says, leaning teasingly across the center console, and David drags him the rest of the way in, pulling Patrick over to crash against his mouth, hard and brash as thunder. The heat of it rolls through him, echoing against tendon and bone, leaving them vibrating against one another, David stretching his fingers along the line of Patrick’s jaw, Patrick twisting his hands into David’s hair, dragging him closer, wanting more of him, wanting every good and gorgeous thing he can give him. 

Unfortunately, they’re in the front seat of his car in the middle of the afternoon, parked practically in the center of town. It’s not exactly an ideal place for David to give him anything at all, so Patrick lets all of his buzzing desire settle back down into a gentle hum and reluctantly pulls away.

David watches him go, starry-eyed and slow, like he’s still stuck somewhere in the moment with Patrick’s lips on his, finally coming back to himself with a long blink. “How do you do it?” he asks, a little wrinkle forming on his brow.

“Do what?”

“This.” The rings on his hand flash wildly as he gestures at the ice cream and Town Hall and everything else within view. “How do you always manage to know exactly what I need?”

Patrick shakes his head. “You think I‌ don’t know how to love you?” He reaches across to twine the fingers of their left hands together, one of David’s rings pressing against the place where his own will soon sit, squeezing against the feeling as he tries to find what he wants to say. “Best, I’ve spent the better part of three years thinking about and trying to do little else. I mean, I’m not perfect. And I’m— I’m still gonna get it wrong sometimes.” He looks up into the deep, steady warmth of those familiar brown eyes. “But this—loving you—it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. And I’m so glad I’m gonna get to spend the rest of my life doing it.”

Strong hands are dragging him in again before he even finishes his sentence, cradling his face so that David can kiss him long and deep and slow. 

If it’s also a little wet, Patrick pretends not to notice.

“I love you,” David whispers against his lips, and then his cheeks, and then his nose. “Do you know that?” He kisses Patrick’s eyelids and his chin and his forehead. “Do you know how much I love you?”

“I do,” Patrick says, feeling the warmth of David’s smile in the kisses fluttering all over his skin. “I do.” And he reels his fiancé back in so that he can savor the truth of it on his lips.

Far too soon though, David is leaning away again, just a trace of his panic returning as he asks, “Do you really think there might be an osprey?”

Patrick shakes his head but says, “I’ll make a backup plan just in case.” 

Seemingly satisfied, David tilts in to kiss him once more, laughing and joyous and light, and Patrick thinks that next week can’t possibly come soon enough.

WORM 1.5 : In which we are saved by the bestest of good boys

You don’t properly appreciate what superhuman strength means until you see someone leap from the sidewalk to the second floor of a building on the far side of the street.  He didn’t make it all the way to the roof, but he came to a point maybe three quarters of the way up.  I wasn’t sure just how Lung kept from falling, but I could only guess that he just buried his fingertips into the building’s exterior.

Holy shit.

He just mega jumped to the building where Taylor is and is hanging on the outside wall by his claws!

You better come up with a way to escape or to do something, cause you seem preeetyy dead right now.

I heard scraping and crunching as he ascended, and looked to my only escape route.  I didn’t harbor any delusions as far as my ability to get down the fire escape before Lung came over the top of the roof and deduced where I’d run off to.  Worse, at that point he could probably just beat me to the street level by jumping off the roof, or even just shoot fire at me through the gaps in the metal while I was halfway down.  The irony of the fire escape being anything but didn’t escape me.

Yeah that’s kind of a disadvantage of being in high-up places if you can’t fly or teleport or something. Pretty easy to get trapped.

I wished I could fly.  My school offered the choice between Chemistry, Biology and Physics, with Basic Science for the underachievers.  I hadn’t picked Physics, but I was still pretty sure that no matter how many I could gather together, jumping off the roof with a swarm of flying insects gripping me would be just as ineffective as the 9 year old superhero wannabes you heard about in the news, jumping off ledges with umbrellas and bedsheets.

 I really don’t think they can carry your bodyweight, or even slow down your descent. You would splat on the floor like a, well, bug.

Also holy shit that is kinda dark and probably a likely consecuence of powers in our world. Poor kids.

For the time being, I was stuck where I was.

Home BuildingStuck

Reaching inside the convex armor that covered my spine, I ran my fingers over the things I had buckled in there.  The EpiPens were meant to treat anaphylactic shock from allergic reactions to bee stings and the like, and likely wouldn’t do a thing to Lung, even if I could get close enough and find a point to inject.  Worst case scenario, the injections would supercharge his power by prompting a surge of whatever hormones or endorphins fueled his power.  Not useful, dangerous at best.  I had a pouch of chalk dust that was meant for climbers and gymnasts, I had seen it in the sports store when I was buying the lenses for my mask.  I had gloves and didn’t think I needed the dryness and extra traction, but I had gotten the idea that it could be useful to throw at an invisible enemy, and bought it on a whim.  In retrospect, it had been kind of a dumb purchase, since my power let me find foes like that with my bugs. As a tool against Lung… I wasn’t sure if it would explode like regular dust could when exposed to flame, but fire didn’t hurt him anyways. Scratch that option.

...Fuck yes

I love characters that think about what they could do best in every situation with the resources they have. If Taylor is like this for the rest of the serial....God I’m gonna enjoy this.

The problem is that I don’t think she has many options at all

I tugged the little canister of pepper spray free from my armor.  It was a black tube, three inches long, not much thicker around than a pen, with a trigger and a safety switch.  It had been a gift from my dad, after I had started to go on my morning jogs for training.  He had warned me to vary my route, and had given me the pepper spray for protection, along with a chain to clip it to my belt loop so it couldn’t be taken and used against me by an attacker.  In costume, I had opted not to keep the chain for the sake of moving quietly.  Using my thumb, I flicked the safety off and positioned the tube so I was ready to fire. I crouched to make myself a smaller target, and waited for him to show himself.

Hmmm could pepper spray work? Maybe if he doesn’t have his eyes or face fully armored...

Also I find the mental image of this possibly hilarious.

Lung’s hands, still on fire, were the first thing to show up, gripping the edge of the roof hard enough to bend the material that covered the roof’s raised lip.  His hands were quickly followed by his head and torso as he hauled himself up.  He looked like he was made of overlapping knives or spades, smouldering yellow-orange with the low temperature flame.  There was no skin to be seen, and he was easily seven or eight feet tall, judging by the length of his arms and torso. His shoulders alone were three feet across at the very least.  Even the one eye that he had open looked metallic, a glowing, almond shaped pool of liquid-hot metal.

He probably looks more like a daemon than a dragon now. At least he doesn’t seem to have wings...

Just a veritable inferno of molted metal and flame and a looot of anger

I aimed for the open eye, but the spray fired off at a sharp angle, just glancing off his shoulder.  Where the spray grazed him, it ignited into a short lived fireball.

Taylor used improvised flamethrower against the fire demon! Doesn’t seem very effective...

Hopefully the spray doesn’t ignite before touching his face because I think a pyrokinetic can handle himself otherwise...

I swore under my breath and fumbled with the device.  While he brought his leg over the edge, I adjusted my angle and shot again.  This time – with a small tweak of my aim mid-shot – I hit him in the face.  The ignited spray rolled off of him, but the contents still did the trick. He screamed, letting go of the roof with one hand, clutching the side of his face where his good eye was.

AAGH MY EYE! WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE GODDAMN EYE??!

Taylor could be an excellent markswoman, she seems to have a lot of precission and nuance in aiming.

It had been vain to hope that he would slip and fall.  I just counted myself lucky that however metallic his face looked, there were still parts of it vulnerable to the spray.

At least for now...

Lung hauled himself over the edge of the roof.  I had him hurting… I just couldn’t do anything about it.  My bugs were officially useless, there was nothing left in my utility sheath, and I would hurt myself more than I hurt Lung if I attacked him.  Making a mental note to pick myself up a concealable knife or baton if I managed to live through this, I bolted for the fire escape. 

Time to use the Joestar’s secret technique then!

Also yeah some hand to hand weaponry could be useful for the future. Probably not with this warp-demon, but with regular joes, so that we can be less squishy wizard in our approach

“Muh… Motherfucker!”  Lung screamed.  With my back turned, there was no way to see it, but the roof was briefly illuminated before the wave of flame hit me from behind.  Knocked off balance, I skidded on the gravel and hit the raised lip of the roof, just by the fire escape. Frantically, I patted myself down.  My costume wasn’t on fire, but my hair – I hurriedly ran my hands over it to make sure it hadn’t been ignited.

Oh fuck!

Yeah the fact that the costume is not yet fully complete came back to bite you it seems. Let’s hope we don’t end up with too severe burns in our first night out, christ.

Small mercies, I thought, that there was no tar used on the roof.  I could just imagine the flames igniting the rooftop, and just how little I’d be able to do if it happened.

That... would have been unfortunate. 100% fucked instead of the .... 87% we are at right now.

Lung stood, slowly, still covering part of his face with his hand.  He walked with a slight limp as he approached me.  Blindly, he lashed out with a broad wave of flame that rolled over half the roof.  I covered my head with my hands and brought my knees to my chest as the hot air and flame rushed over me.  My costume seemed to take the brunt of it, but it was still hot enough I had to bite my lip to stop from making a sound.

The costume seems to be fire resistant! Mostly.

Spider silk is fucking badass.

Lung stopped advancing, slowly turning his head from one side to another.

“Cock.  Sucker,” he growled in his heavily accented voice, his cussing interrupted by his panting for breath, “Move.  Give me something to aim for.”

Actual perfect recreation of trying to hunt a fly at 4 am in the morning when you can’t sleep, and aren’t a white hot metal terror.

I held my breath and stayed as still as possible.  What could I do?  I still had the pepper spray in my hand, but even if I got him again, I was running the risk that he would lash out and bake me alive before I could move.  If I moved first, he would hear me and I would get knocked around by another blast of flame, probably before I could get to my feet. 

Eeeh your options are...

1) Spray him in the face, get blasted

2) Stay quiet.... probably get blasted as well.

3)Try to get away, and get... I’m starting to see a pattern here

Lung moved his hand from his face.  He blinked a few times, then looked around, then blinked a few more times.  It was a matter of seconds before he could see well enough to make me out from the shadows.  Wasn’t pepper spray supposed to put someone down for thirty minutes?  How was this monster not an A-Lister?

Well ain’t that a fucking horrible thing to think about.

Either:

1) He’s way stronger than he should be and he’s basically content with being small-time thug, even with the potential he has in the larger world stage

or...

2) He’s a big fish in a small pond and the people out there make him look silly by comparison which is.... holy shit.

He suddenly moved, flames wreathing his hands, and I screwed my eyes shut.

At least he’s not saying feel the heat over and over

And also how the fuck will you get out of this one

When I heard the crackling whoosh of the flame and wasn’t burned alive, I opened my eyes again.  Lung was firing streams of flame, aiming for the edge of the roof of the adjacent building, a three story apartment.  I looked to see what he was aiming at, but couldn’t make anything out in the gloom or in the brief second of light Lung’s flames afforded.

!!!!!

Reinforcements!! Someone has come to help!! Or at least to fight AGAINST Lung!!

Yes!

With no warning, a massive shape landed atop Lung with an impact I could swear people heard at the other end of the street.  The size of a van, the ‘massive object’ was animal rather than vehicle, resembling a cross between a lizard and a tiger, with tangles of muscle and bone where it ought to have skin, scales or fur.  Lung was now on his knees, holding one of the beast’s sizable claws away from his face with his own clawed hand.

OH FUCK

A GIANT FUCKING METAL-LOOKING BONEY FERAL BEAST JUST FELL FROM NOWHERE AND IS FIGHTING AGAINST THE INFERNAL DRAGON MAN

Lung used his free hand to strike the creature across the snout.  Even though he was smaller than the beast, the impact made it rear back.  It took a few short steps back in reaction, and then rhino-charged him off the edge of the roof.  They hit the street with an audible crash.

AND THE TWO BERSERKERS ARE HURLING THEMSELVES OFF OF THE BUILDING TO THE STREET BELOW

This is glorious.

I stood, aware I was shaking like a leaf.  I was so unsteady on my feet, from the mixed relief and fear, that I almost fell over again as two more impacts shook the roof.  Two more creatures, similar to the first in texture, but slightly different in size and shape, had arrived on the rooftop.  These two each had a pair of riders.  I watched as the people slid off the backs of the animals.  There were two girls, a guy, and a fourth I identified as male only because of the height.  The tall one approached me, while the others hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out.

THEY WERE JUST THE RIDES FOR THESE PEOPLE

What a fucking entrance

“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” he told me.  His voice was deep, masculine, but muffled by the helmet he wore.  He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet.  The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet.  The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was.  It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn’t half bad if you didn’t look too close.  He reached out a hand towards me, and I leaned away, wary.

Damn he looks cool. He’s giving me ghost rider vibes in his outfit, but without the flaming skull part. Just badass biker energy

I didn’t know what to say, so I stuck to my policy of not saying anything that could get me into a worse situation.

At least you are not on fire, even though mr black leather and his zombie behemoths aren’t really giving me heroic vibes

Withdrawing his hand, the man in black jerked his thumb over one shoulder, “When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked.  We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day.  We eventually decided, fuck it, we’d meet him halfway.  Wing it.  Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah.”

Oh! ooooohhhh.

So the “Killing kids” part wasn’t actually murdering random civilians for the evulz

It was probably a territorial dispute! Cause these are totally villains or anti-heroes/vigilantes. Either/or

Behind him, one of the girls whistled sharply and pointed down at the street.  The two monsters the group had been riding on bounded across the roof and leaped down to the street to join the fight.

Seems like that one is the trainer.

The guy in black kept talking, “Wouldn’t you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found,” he laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.

He doesn’t seem to consider us a threat at least so that’s a relief

So they fought his underling while our girl here, on her lonesome, straight up picked a fight with bossman.

“Lee’s no slouch in a fight, but there’s a reason he’s not leader of the ABB.  He got spooked without his boss there and ran.  I guess you’re responsible for that?”  Skull-mask waited for a response from me.  When I didn’t offer one, he ventured towards the edge of the roof and looked down, then spoke without turning to look at me, “Lung is getting creamed.  The fuck you do to him?”

Oh shit the venoms or the eye-injuries are making a difference in helping the hell-mount win!

“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the girls said, answering the question for me.  She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – I couldn’t tell in the dark – and her dark blond hair was long and windblown.  The girl grinned as she added, “He’s not holding up too well.  Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”

She can know all that with just a look??

Information-based powers!! Intuition? Clairvoyance? Omniscience? Those always seem crazy OP to me in terms of offering support!

The man in black suddenly turned to look at me, “Introductions.  That’s Tattletale.  I’m Grue.  The girl with the dogs-” he pointed to the other girl, the one who had whistled and directed the monsters.  She wasn’t in costume unless I counted a plaid skirt, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume. “-We call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead.  Last and certainly least, we have Regent.”

Grue? Huh, I can’t really guess what he could do based on that. Isn’t it like an urban legend or fairytale monster?

Tattletale...so her power IS information based! I also like the simpleness of her costume which I hadn’t mentioned

Bitch (Hellhound think of the children! ) looks really butch and badass from what I can hear. She seems to be the one with the beast power, cue the “Bitch” in her name

Regent...hmmm, something nobility-related?

I finally caught up with what he was saying.  Those monsters were dogs?

Abyssal doggos!!

“Fuck you, Grue,” Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t really that offended.  He was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar.  He’d placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots.  The outfit was very renaissance faire.  He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

He looks really theatrical. I really like his aesthetics. I still wonder what his power is.

Introductions done, Grue looked at me for several long moments.  After a few seconds, he asked me, “Hey, you okay?  You hurt?”

“The reason she’s not introducing herself isn’t because she’s hurt,” Tattletale told him, as she continued to lean over the edge of the roof and watch whatever was going on at the street level, “It’s because she’s shy.”

Damn omniscients and their lack of privacy!!

Her power is actually scary though. No secrets with her around..

Tattletale turned around and it looked like she was going to say something else, but she stopped, turning her head.  The smile she’d been wearing faded, “Heads up.  We’ve gotta scram.”

Bitch nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones.  After a brief pause, the building was suddenly rattled by impacts.  In just moments, the three creatures of hers leaped from the alleys to either side of the building and onto the roof.

Grue turned towards me.  I was still standing on the opposite end of the roof, by the fire escape. “Hey, want a ride?”

What?? Oh god is someone else coming as well?? What now?

I looked at the creatures – dogs?  They were bloodied, snarling creatures out of a nightmare.  I shook my head.  He shrugged.

The dogs look like something you would see on doom and it is amazing

“Hey,” Tattletale said to me, seating herself just behind Bitch, “What’s your name?”

I stared at her.  My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”

“Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute.  You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice.  Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they’re not going to let one walk away.  You should get out of here,”  She said. She flashed me a smile.  She had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners.  Behind her simple black domino style mask, her eyes were glittering with mischief.  If she had red hair, she would have made me think of a fox.  She kind of did, anyways.

It’s true she doesn’t have a name yet! I guess bug would suffice for now.

And yuup they were bad guys, I knew it. Seems they have mistaken Taylor for one!

Well when you take into account the possibly too-grimdark edgy-lite costume and what she fucking did to Lung with her bugs in his eyes.... yeah I could see how they can draw that conclusion

With that, they leaped over my head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on the fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

When I realized what had just happened, I could have cried.  It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers.  It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys.  Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

Happy first day out as a hero, Taylor! Well done!

And it still might not be over yet, let’s see what happens with this hero arrival. Let’s hope they don’t reach the same conclusions this time.

But we will see that next time! See you in the next update!

Answer the questions, then tag other people.

I was tagged by @lux-rae, thanks Sky!! c:

You can call me: Aja. Or Capra. Or Cap. Honestly, call me just about anything and it’ll make me soft. 

I’d describe myself as: I mean kinda a mess. But a mess who cares a lot? Who laughs a lot at stupid stuff and can’t take anything seriously, gets way too obsessed with stuff, and has a tendency to cry about friendship…?

Fictional characters that I identify with or am fond of: Izuku from bnha, N from pokemon. Kvothe from kkc. Alibaba from magi. Usopp from one piece. ///BarryLupMagnusAngusTaakoKravitz adventurezone because I can’t pick just one in the obsessive flurry I’m currently caught in

Three random facts about me:

1: My first word was doggie

2: I was reprimanded by my RA for having too many posters on my dorm wall but I have no plans to take any of them down. I also have a stinky pumpkin on my desk that I probably shouldn’t. 

3: Less of a fact and more of a brag but. I’ve taken three science tests since the beginning of college and I got 100% or higher on all three *finger guns*

Something little about my appearance that I kind of like: A lot of times my hair dries shitily but when it dries nice and it’s all soft and curly and fluffy? Or when it’s freshly cut or dyed? 10/10

An outfit that makes me feel powerful: I mean I’ve been feeling crop tops, heart shaped sunglasses, and hawaiian shirts recently. The most official ~outfit~ I can think of right now that makes me feel powerful is a white crop top, a black jacket with a rainbow across it, black ripped jeans, and my rainbow holographic doc martens. Which I realize makes me sound like kinda a ridiculous person. Like, that’s the type of wacky fake outfit you’d hear described in a wattpad fanfiction. But uhh. Here we are. 

An object that is special to me: I have a minccino plush that I treasure in particular because I got it during a rough time it’s very comforting to me. 

A compliment that made me feel warm inside: Lots of people have been telling me lately that I seem like I’ve gotten more calm and confident since coming to college, and that makes me 👀👀

Something I love about myself: Uhhhh lol. I know lots of scientific animal names...? does that qualify sjhjsdhs

Something I’d love to buy someone else: If I could I’d buy my friend who moved to away plane tickets so she could visit all her friends here. We all miss her. Also I’d love if I could buy me n my former emo friends tickets to the fall out boy green day weezer tour bc hot damn what a group of bands. 

Something I’d love to buy for myself: I’d love to get a portable blu-ray player, or just like. A tv and blu-ray player. So I could actually watch the movies I brought to college with me. 

Three things that make me really happy:

1: Looking at my TAZ graphic novels always makes me really happy...

2: Talkative affectionate cats

3: The feeling of being around friends you know and trust implicitly and can just completely goof off and release your inner dumbass around

Something I enjoyed recently: Yesterday my roommate and I went to the gym then got boba and went back to our dorm and watched star wars. And honestly? Ideal night. 

Songs stuck in my head recently: My head’s been rotating between This December by Ricky Montgomery, Good as Hell by Lizzo, and Gone for Good by The Shins. 

Something adorable I came across recently: The other day I was walking home from the bus stop and shuffling through the leaves and kicking them around and stuff, as I tend to do. And this group of girls heard me and turned around to look at me. And I had a moment of, “oh god. They’re gonna hit me with a condescending look.” But then they started shuffling through the leaves too and making piles and laughing and having fun and it was really wholesome,,,, 

If you wanted to know me better you should check out these things: Geez I feel like this is kinda a big question...? Definitely pokemon mystery dungeon explorers of the sky. probably pokemon black version too. The movies labyrinth and guardians of the galaxy...? Any of the shows/books/podcasts I mentioned characters from earlier. Uhh... Mustelids? Go check out mustelids. Get a good look at some stoats and martens. You’ll feel better.  

Something I can/will do to take care of myself in the coming days: I really want to get back into doing yoga! It’s been difficult because it’s just sorta awkward to do when I’m in a new place and I have a roommate sharing close quarters with me, plus I’ve just been really busy. But I feel like it helps me to relax and focus better... So I wanna start doing it regularly again. 

And I’m gonna tag @help-is-on-the-way @cazstiell @thelonelyabsol@shaggyturtlestudiostotallyradbro @ellixt-m @sunshineandshitpostss 

I know this is very long so I 100% get it if you don’t wanna do it skskjfhsd

But if you do. Cool! And if anyone else wants to do it...? Consider yourself tagged c:

Good Luck Out There (Wilhelm)

I.

The sun hung low over the steeples and chimneys of Aelfheim, the sky a brilliant tapestry of pink and gold and deep blue at the corners. On the still-warm tile of the manor’s roof, Aviva pushed herself up to sitting, pulling the leather cord from her hair and letting the long braid slowly release itself. It had been some time since she had enjoyed a rooftop sunset.

“I think I’m going to build a tower,” Wil offered, apropos of nothing.

“A tower?” Aviva considered that for a moment. “Like your father’s?”

Wil chuckled humourlessly, reaching for the half-empty bottle of wine sitting between them. “No-one could build a tower quite like my father’s. His was connected to dark energies I couldn’t even begin to work with. I’m honestly not even sure those energies exist in the world now, given how we remade things.” A pause. “Plus, nobody’s that extra,” he added, taking a large gulp of wine to punctuate his point.

Aviva snorted. “That’s certainly true.” She accepted the offered bottle, taking a considerably smaller sip as she thought. “Where would you build it?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Wil’s tone was casual, as if discussing the weather. “So far, my first choice is out in the Blacksand Desert. Less of a chance I’ll be interrupted.”

“Yes, can’t have innocent bystanders walking in on your weirdness,” Aviva teased, but the truth of it nagged at her. Wil had become less and less social over the years since they had restored the world. Though always willing to visit with Aviva and her immediate family, he had withdrawn almost completely from public life, politely declining any official invitations and avoiding what he considered “prying eyes”. She passed the bottle back to him, her smile fading. “If you could still access those energies, would you?”

Wil kept his gaze focused on the vanishing sun, putting the bottle to his lips in a convenient moment of silence. “I don’t know. Alphinaud wasn’t my stone’s guardian, so I suspect it’s a moot point. But I’m starting to wonder if we might have greater access to our own elemental powers. I’m Shadow, after all; there’s probably a lot I could do. I could certainly make one hell of a tower.”

“You could, at that.” As the last of the sun melted into the horizon, a cold breeze whipped across the roof, tugging at Aviva’s hair and making her shiver. “Let’s head inside,” she suggested. “We can find Halei, or we can go out into the city and get into trouble.”

Taking another swig of wine, Wil nodded. “Let’s go find your wife. I’m all for staying in, though. Last time Sol and I went out in this nice city together, we started a bar fight.”

Aviva huffed a soft laugh. “I’m sure they’ve forgiven you since then.”

“I’m not gonna take any chances.”

II.

“Wil?” Aviva called as the dimly-lit antechamber of the tower materialised around her. “You called? I came as quickly as I could. Wil?”

“Hey, V.” Wil leaned against the doorframe, his sleepless face pulled into a wry half-smile. “Thanks for coming. I, uh… I guess I wanted to… talk? To someone?”

“Of course.” Aviva offered him her most reassuring smile. “What’s up?”

For a few moments, Wil fiddled uncomfortably with the wide sleeves of his robe, unable to meet her eyes. Then, finally: “My mum died.”

The Tiefling’s shoulders sank. “Oh, Wil…” With one fluid step, she crossed the antechamber and spread her arms, wrapping Wil in a tight hug. The Half-Elf stiffened, then changed his mind and softened into the embrace. It had been some time since he had touched anyone. When they finally separated, Aviva held him gently by the shoulders. “What happened?”

“Oh, heart failure. Human old age. Not unexpected.” He reconsidered his statement. “Well, not by her doctors. It wasn’t something I’d really thought about in… a long time.”

Aviva nodded. “Did you ever go see her again?”

“Absolutely not,” Wil answered sharply, taking an almost involuntary step backward into the tower’s main hall as he slipped free of Aviva’s hands. “I understood her words.”

With a twist of her stomach, Aviva realised she did not have anything to say to that. She had never understood Evangelina Stonewood’s instructions that, for both her safety and his, her son should never return. After the defeat of his father and the restoration of the world, Aviva had expected mother and son to reunite, sooner or later. The thought of sending her own daughter away, even to guarantee her safety, brought a tightness to her throat. “How did you find out?”

“Dr. Unne.” Wil’s old mentor. “He’s out the door soon himself, but I still keep in contact with him from time to time.” With a deep sigh, Wil turned and began to descend a rounded flight of stone steps, gesturing for Aviva to follow. “You want some coffee?”

“Yeah.” The bottom of the steps opened into a surprisingly homey kitchen, the fireplace burning cheerily even as it cast deep shadows about the room. The skeletons going about their chores had long since ceased to surprise Aviva, and she accepted a steaming mug from what had likely once been a goblin with a nod of thanks. “Got any bourbon to put in it?”

Wil clucked his tongue. “Of course. What kind of man do you take me for?”

Settling at the small kitchen table, they sat in silence for a while. The quiet seemed to comfort Wil, as did the presence of his Tiefling friend. Eventually, he spoke again. “I’m not going to die.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not going to die,” he repeated. “I’ve been studying my father’s old papers. He was foolish, turning to the path of the vampire. But there are other ways, ones that are less damaging to the mind. I haven’t figured out the best one yet, but… I’m on my way.”

Aviva chewed her lip. “Wil… Following in your father’s footsteps. You saw what he became. Corrupted, mad. Are you sure that’s a good idea? How do you know you’ll avoid the same pitfalls?”

“Because I have all his failures to build on.” Wil swirled the dark liquid in his mug. “I have a map of his mistakes. I know how to avoid them.”

“There are nearly infinite mistakes when it comes to magic of this magnitude--”

“I was in a guy’s head when he died, Aviva. I felt what it was like.” Wil looked her in the eye. “I’m not going to do that again.”

For a time, neither spoke. Then Aviva sighed. “Just be careful, okay?”

Wil scoffed, smoothing the folds of his robe with pointed overconfidence. “When am I not?”

III.

“Aviva?” Halei called from the doorway to their quarters. “V? You’re… You’re going to need to see this.”

“Yes, sunshine?” Aviva poked her head into the sitting room, her fingers tangled in the hair she was attempting to sweep into an elaborate updo. The sight of Halei stopped her cold. “Are those… bones?”

Halei stepped inside, pushing the door closed with her foot. “Yes,” she said simply, making her way carefully around the sofa and depositing an astonishingly large collection of sun-bleached bones onto the table. “It showed up at the front gate and apparently spooked the guards, so they took it down.”

Hesitantly, Aviva approached, freeing her hands and letting her hair tumble down her back. “Alright… So… Why is it on our dining table?”

“Because,” Halei answered, producing a folded parchment from the folds of her tunic, “it was delivering a letter. To us.”

All at once, understanding clicked like a key in a lock. “Wilhelm.”

“Looks like.”

“Of course, because delivering a letter by animated skeleton’s not dramatic at all,” Aviva muttered, taking the parchment from her wife and breaking the ornate wax seal. The handwriting was the same looped, elegant script she remembered from Wil’s previous letters, though somewhat rougher, as if he had not written with a quill in some time. Her confused frown deepened as she scanned down the page. “...Huh.”

Halei tilted her head. “What does it say?”

Clearing her throat, Aviva affected her best Wilhelm impression. “‘Hey Aviva and Sol, sorry I won’t be able to make it to your daughter’s birthday. Please tell her Uncle Wil is bone tired. I’m not just being a lazy bones, I promise. I hope you won’t have a bone to pick with me. Insert additional bone jokes here.’”

“Oh gods,” Halei groaned. “Does it actually say that?”

“‘Anyway,’” Aviva continued, “‘I wanted to let you both know I’ll be taking a leave of absence from our regular get-togethers. I’m close to a breakthrough in my research and I can’t leave my laboratory even for a moment. In addition, I’m not exactly my most attractive right now, and I don’t want to startle any innocent waitstaff or guards.’” Aviva sighed and met Halei’s eyes. “Do you think he’s finally done it?”

Halei pursed her lips, then shrugged one shoulder. “Could be. Either that or he’s close.”

Sharing a look of unspoken concern, Aviva returned to the letter. “‘Before I excuse myself completely from polite society, I want you to know this: you’ve always considered me family, which has meant more to me than I can say, especially as my own blood family and I drifted further and further apart. I want you to know that I think of you as my family as well. Whatever it takes, I will ensure that you and your daughter live your lives in peace, safety and happiness. No harm will come to you -- not if I have anything to say about it. I love you. Never forget that. Yours, Dr. Wilhelm Husk.’”

Stunned silence settled in the room. Aviva stared at the parchment, reading the words a second time, then a third. Halei humphed and folded her arms. “That boy’s turning himself into a lich, isn’t he.”

“Yes, I rather suspect he is. He said he never wanted to die, so…” Delicately folding the parchment closed, Aviva placed it atop the table of bones. “I don’t… know what to make of this.”

“That’s Wil in a nutshell, my love.” Halei smiled gently. “Always has been. He’s a neurotic mystery wrapped in a socially awkward enigma.”

“Do we do anything? Try and stop him? Talk him out of it?” Aviva huffed in frustration. “Would he even listen?”

“I don’t know,” Halei answered with another shrug. “If he’s not hurting anyone… If he is, yes. We will have to stop him. We will stop him. If not… We’ll see what happens.”

Aviva let out a slow, measured breath. “I don’t like it.”

“I know.” Sliding her arms around the Tiefling’s waist, Halei rested her head against Aviva’s shoulder, soothing her worries away, at least for the time being. “We knew this was coming, in a way. It’s a very Wil decision to make.”

“You’re right about that.”

“And it is his to make. At least he let us know. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him and take it one step at a time.” Halei gave the Tiefling a squeeze. “In the meantime, our girl has a birthday coming up. Let’s focus on that.” She glanced at the table. “…And we have to figure out what to do with all these bones.”

(Art by @biasanduntrue)

kugo-centric brave souls CFYOW campaign screaming

bc like what do you guys expect from me at this point

So with the first part of the campaign coming out in brave souls, likely more or less serving as the “official” translation, we’ve already got some interesting bits, both new things I’ve noticed and variances from the fan translations we’ve gotten so far (huge credit to missstormcaller for her work!! what’s been put out, she’s already translated wonderfully)

[any differences I point out between Brave Souls and fan translations are NOT criticisms/insults to the fan translators’ efforts. The BBS team likely has access to the original intentions of any line they put in, which means they could know for sure if they were presenting lines accurately. BBS also cuts text and minor scenes, so while it’s good for getting the basics across, there is also a lot of nuance that it will miss. Even if you play Brave Souls, read the fan translations. They’re much more in-depth.]

-oh real quick, Aizen at the start was interesting, when he talks about Tosen with Hisagi. Because there’s far less of his usual derision or condescension when he talks about Tosen. And even though what he says is incendiary to Hisagi by its very nature, his intention doesn’t come across as goading so much as a sign of respect. At first I thought I might’ve been seeing things differently without surrounding context and nuance (since BBS doesn’t describe things like facial expression or tone and uses stock expressions). But one of the very last chapters of the actual novel actually confirms this—Tosen held a genuinely special place in Aizen’s esteem, and was the only person he could ever confide in even remotely (like, keep in mind who we’re talking about here). He calls killing him an act of mercy not because it’ll get under Hisagi’s skin, but because that’s truly what it was, particularly in the mind of Tosen himself. It doesn’t make Aizen anything close to an uwu innocent babby but what it does do is make a character with no attachment to anything infinitely more interesting. After all, what fun is a stagnant god?

-And about the event story, it seems like Grimmjow and Nel’s second stages were supposed to be drawn out by Aura? Tokinada talks about her “puppets” being effective, and while she had a part in Hikone’s creation I think Hikone acts on their own here and isn’t being strung by her, so I don’t think they’re the puppet. Don’t know if I’m misunderstanding it, and if I’m not I don’t know if this implies the other Espada’s second stages will be her doing, too. And maybe she’s not drawing out the power itself and is just making them appear and disappear, and the Kyogoku/Valley of Screams makes them go into second stage somehow. (or it’s just an event story and means absolutely nothing??)

-Kukaku just casually called Shuhei’s eyes handsome and idk why that’s so funny to me

-Okay yeah there’s this thing, which could have some implications depending. The fan translations have Shuhei say he heard Kugo didn’t go to Hell, but Brave Souls has him say he’d heard Kugo had escaped from Hell. And uh, big difference. Like listen I love my boy but even I don’t think he’s powerful enough to rip himself out of HELL and crawl back to the Soul Society. It’s not that I don’t think there was reason enough to send him there, but I had always been under the impression that he had been spared from it deliberately, thanks to Ichigo and/or Ukitake (or perhaps Hell’s Sinner Detector™ knowing how fucked over he was and just not taking him). 

-You know thinking about it, Shuhei does call this a rumor. And there are a metric fuckton of Soul Reapers who would be pretty pissed off if they found out Kugo Ginjo, Soul Reaper Hunter, was just hangin’ out in Rukongai. They’d probably go nuts trying to kill him, and tear down Kukaku’s house in the process. I wouldn’t be surprised Kugo’s identity and presence in the Soul Society has been kept very secret among a few Captains (at the very least Yamamoto, Kyoraku and Ukitake, and Kurotsuchi who can find out fucking anything), or at the whole Captain level. Everybody else who asks just gets told he’s in Hell where he belongs. There was probably a sighting at some point which started rumors he got out.

-“Shu... Shu... SHOOT, IT’S BEEN A WHILE HUH LIEUTENANT?” Ganju stop covering your tracks it’s okay we know you forgot

-Ganju says he won’t allow bad blood between Soul Reapers and the Shiba family (not “friends of”) and thereby kind of implies that the Fullbringers are members of the Shiba family. Kukaku says she accepts Kugo and co. for who they are, and calls him “our freeloader” (not “the”). Considering Kugo’s apparent lifelong lack of a place to belong, this little kind of thing hits me dead in the kokoro.

-It also sounds like Kugo makes a differentiation between a half Soul Reaper and a Substitute Soul Reaper, the first being a “biological” state one is born with and the second meaning someone given Soul Reaper powers while alive. This would mean Substitute and Deputy aren’t interchangeable: “deputy” is solely a rank for a sanctioned non-pure Soul Reaper, and they have to either be half or Substitute before they can have the “deputy” title. Both Ichigo and Kugo became Deputies specifically when they were given official passes. Kugo seems to say he was always a Substitute, as in someone given Soul Reaper powers while alive, whereas Ichigo’s Substitute powers were cut off by Byakuya early in the series and the ones he then regains are entirely his own from his father’s ancestry. So between his first Hollowfication and his getting the badge, Ichigo was neither a Substitute nor a Deputy. He was a half (or third or quarter or however it works out), and remains as much through the end with his Deputy status tacked on. (And presumably Kugo has lost his Deputy status, but I’m fairly certain he still remains a Substitute.)

-Use of the word “friends” instead of “comrades” or “allies” makes the masscre story sting worse. I consider this permission to use it in all my commentary now and spread the pain.

-Also, he makes it sound like they were killed by more than one Soul Reaper. Meaning he could’ve been outnumbered when they attacked, or they might’ve been scattered around targeting Fullbringers and he was only able to catch up to the one that he killed. Like, thanks! I hate it!

-Here he seems to say he learned about the pass at the point this happened, as opposed to figuring it out before and then surmising that that was how he was found. Literally I just wrote a part about this, why do you gotta play me this way.

-I should’ve realized this like forever ago but HE SAYS UKITAKE DIDN’T TRUST HIM FROM THE BEGINNING. BUT HE’S GONNA FIND OUT HE TRUSTED HIM LONGER THAN ANYBODY. KILL ME.

-Also oof, “But aside from me, why did my Fullbringer friends have to die, too?” Like, implying if he had to be killed because they didn’t trust him, then fine. Plus he was willing to die killing Ukitake if that’s what it took—because it’s not about himself, or him winning, or him being more powerful. It’s purely retribution for the lives taken, whatever the personal cost. You look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t a man with a lot of guilt inside him.

-I’m mad they didn’t have Kugo and Shu’s little exchange (or Ganju and Kukaku’s) after Hisagi leaves, since there were like five story-free chapters while Shuhei bikes back to the barracks that they could’ve put something into. but fine I get it I know that’s not why most people are here it’s fine

-but you know what I do appreciate? They really kept true to Giriko’s role in this adaptation, very carefully portrayed him with as much weight as he has in the proper novel. I don’t feel like I’ve missed a thing where he’s concerned. So yeah if you need me I’ll be over here bleeding out in the corner

Binge-Watching: Inuyasha, Episodes 108-110

In which Team Evil comes together, the danger level continues to increase, but some questions remain tantalizingly unanswered.

Reunited, and it Feels So Good

Christ, and I thought our heroes were gonna have a tough time of it before. Now that the remaining members of the Band of Seven have officially all joined forces, it seems like Inuyasha and company may genuinely be facing a challenge they’re not strong enough to overcome. Every second we spend with these baddies feels like further reinforcement of just how outmatched they are. Inuyasha kills the same guy twice, and he just comes back as a freaking battle tank, stronger than ever. A seemingly friendly guy reveals himself to be Evil Wolverine, one of the most viscerally dangerous close-quarters fighters of the entire show. Not to mention I just realized that the evil monk is voiced by Tomokazu freaking Sugita, which means he’s essentially Gintoki with the fire web powers of Jiraiya the Spider. There’s an image to strike fear in the hearts of Gintama fans everywhere.

But most disturbingly of all, we’ve finally met Bankatsu, the band’s leader who everyone else holds in such high regard. And more than the trio of sacred jewel shards in his neck, what stands out the most prominently about him is just how... normal he is. Like, even the remainder of his surviving lackeys tend to be a little less megalomaniacal than Naraku’s inner circle, but Bankatsu genuinely feels like just some dude going about his just-some-dude life, except that his just-some-dude activities happen to be slaughtering by the thousands. He’s illiterate but not too hung up about it, he catches butterflies for his friends in case they want to eat them, he struts into an enemy camp to retrieve his lost weapon as lackadaisically as taking a stroll through the park... take away the bloodlust, and he could easily be the kind-hearted protagonist of a shonen action series, or at least a cool primary supporting character. He’s a genuine leader to his team, hanging out with them and shooting the shit as casually as he lops his enemy’s heads off. Say what you will about Naraku, he was always a solo operator relying on intimidation and coercion to control his lackeys. But with this guy at the head of the Band of Seven, we’re now facing a group of antagonists driven by actual friendship and camaraderie. In many ways, that makes them far more dangerous than Naraku could ever be, and I hope Inuyasha and Koga are prepared to meet this challenge. Because if not, there is no telling just how deeply they’re about to get fucked.

Chinks in the Armor

All that said, though, the Band of Seven isn’t a flawless, impenetrable force. Already, we’re starting to see hints at weaknesses that may end up being the key to driving them apart and destroying them. Suiketsu, the aforementioned evil wolverine of the group, has already proven himself capable of shattering the binary that cosigns these mercs to villainy, waking up with the desire to be a simple doctor who helped people rather than hurt them. Sure, his darker personality ended up crawling through in the end, but it’s clear he hasn’t shaken off the vestiges of his humanity just yet. There’s something interesting going on with Mt. Hakurei, the mysterious mountain in the distance that seems to purify the land around it. It it could awaken such an evil man as a cleansed person with a purified jewel shard, what else might it be capable of? It certainly provides too strong a barrier for the undead Kikyo, who finds herself truly stymied for the first time since coming back to life in a way she can’t account for. Something big’s going on at that mountain, and something tells me we might find ourselves in need of a trump card sooner or later.

But there’s another, more immediate chink in the armor that draws my attention: Naraku. The Band of Seven have found themselves in a bizarre position regarding the show’s still-AWOL big bad: they owe their new lives and continued success to him and Kohaku, who he uses as his emissary, yet they have no idea what he wants from them. In all likelihood, they just exist to serve as a distraction for Inuyasha’s team so Naraku has time to properly heal, but at the same time, they are far from under his control. Only Bankatsu’s actually met him, and he’s not keen to spill any details, despite how eager his friends are for answers. They’re under no real obligation to follow his wishes, at least not yet. And should Naraku attempt to coerce them more directly, as he’s done in the past, something tells me they wouldn’t take too kindly to that. What happens if a rift forms between the leader who may know more than he’s letting on and the underlings who have no desire to follow anyone but the people they trust? There’s an unanswered question somewhere in this mess, and whatever the answer ends up being, the results can only be messy. Better watch your back, pals; your connection to this show’s overarching plot may be the Achilles heel that finally brings you down.

Odds and Ends

-Ey, benefits of a fire fox! Should’a done that sooner, guys.

-”I don’t want to see them like this...” Man, it’s been a while since we’ve had these feels, huh?

-”Eh? Did I sound scary?” In an existential horror sort of way, I suppose.

-”Hey, Kagome!” aksjdhasdjsad no tact whatsoever

-Yeah, it was only a matter of time before the anger came out. Kagome was taking that all way too well.

-Ey, about time for new ED. Don’t get too much out of this one yet... I guess we’ll see.

-”Really? I don’t feel anything.” kajsdhakjdshas DRAG HIS ASS GIRLS

-”I don’t think they’ll be coming.” So you’re telling me all this time, the leader of the Band of Seven was that ceiling-crasher spirit from the beginning of Mob Psycho 100. Sure. Why not?

-Did he just shred a freaking butterfly? Dude.

And so we press on. See you next time!

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 7 Extravapalooza

With the way the COVID-19 situation in America (and lots of other places around the world) is rapidly heading in the wrong direction, I’m beginning to genuinely wonder if the NFL is going to have to pause the season for a few weeks as some states potentially decide that the gatherings that come with staging a football game are less than necessary. 

Once the league decided to start the season as scheduled, I figured there was no way they’d stop the train once it began lurching forward, even if some unlucky teams were forced to start someone like Brian Hoyer at QB instead of their normal guy. Ahem. But, I also didn’t think things would deteriorate virus-spread wise quite to this degree. I was really giving us as a society way too much credit, it would appear. Given the resistance to the first round of shutdown measures, I think there’s a real possibility that shit could hit the fan in a way few of us have seen before if another batch were implemented, but it seems like the only option going forward for some places if they don’t get their shit together. Our choices in the very near future appear to be: court massive civil unrest spurred on by the very worst among us, or do nothing and let many of those same people carry disease to every corner of the country as hospitals become overwhelmed and people die alone and miserable. Hooray for letting the dumbest assholes dictate the courses of everyone else’s lives. 

Now for some football picks!!!

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Detroit Lions at Atlanta Falcons (-2)

Ah, a team who recently fired their terrible head coach against a team who desperately needs to. I’m glad it finally appears to be dawning on Detroit’s offensive braintrust that D’Andre Swift is the best RB on the team and thus should get the bulk of the touches. You could even say he deserves the LION’S SHARE. Sorry. 

I was ready to declare Matt Ryan officially washed heading into last week’s games, but then he went out and threw for 371 and 4 TDs against the (admittedly trash-ass) Vikings defense, and now I just don’t know. Does having Julio Jones in the lineup really make that much of a difference for him? Maybe! This game should be enjoyable slop and I don’t have any strong leanings one way or another. I’ll pick the Falcons just because a Lions loss gets them one step closer to freedom from their dipshit Goomba-from-Mario-Bros-lookin’ motherfucker of a head coach.

Cleveland Browns (-3.5) at Cincinnati Bengals

I like to make fun of the Browns just like everyone else, but I’d prefer to see less digital ink spilled on QB Baker Mayfield’s crappy play and more celebration of DE Myles Garrett instead. Garrett is AWESOME. Through 6 games he has 7 sacks (2nd in the NFL) and 3 forced fumbles (also 2nd in the league), and those numbers don’t fully capture how disruptive and nightmarish he is for opposing offenses most weeks. Sure, he maybe tried to kill a guy with his helmet last year, but c’mon. That was just a harmless little goof. No reason to hold it against him, in my opinion. Like, have you seen what Mason Rudolph looks like? He had it coming.

I feel bad every time I pick against Joe Burrow because I want he and I to be friends, but *points to previous paragraph about how Myles Garrett swallows planets whole*.

Pittsburgh Steelers at Tennessee Titans (-1.5)

Last week I wrote a whole big thing (with stats to back it up!) in the Titans blurb about how Derrick Henry wasn’t playing well and was potentially wearing down, and then he proceeded to rush for over 200 yards and 2 TDs, including an unreal 94-yarder. I concede that I may have been misguided, and that attempting to use research is for lameass nerds. That said, I HIGHLY doubt he’ll have a huge day against the Steelers defense, but the combo of Henry and the Ryan Tannehill-led passing game should be able to put up enough points to win. 

These teams are both very good and very evenly matched, but I don’t want to pick Pittsburgh because I actively dislike them. You won’t find that kind of analysis on Football Outsiders, friends.

Carolina Panthers at New Orleans Saints (-7)

New Orleans will be without WRs Michael Thomas and Emmanuel Sanders for this one, and I think QB Drew Brees is too far over-the-hill to make chicken salad out of the chicken shit that remains in their group of pass catchers. RB Alvin Kamara is great, but he can’t do it by himself. Oh, and speaking of Michael Thomas, a report came out yesterday that the Saints are open to dealing him. This report came from Mike Florio, so grain of salt and all, but it did lead to me reading a rumor that Thomas’ teammates hate him and secretly call him “Can’t Stand Mike,” a play on his “Can’t Guard Mike” Twitter handle. I found this hilarious and very much want it to be true.

Let’s raise a glass to Panthers backup RB and fantasy football savior Mike Davis, as his gravy train likely comes to a halt after today with the impending return of Christian McCaffery. The New Orleans rush defense is very good, so I don’t see him going out in a blaze of glory, but his out-of-nowhere statistical bonanza deserves to be celebrated.

Buffalo Bills (-10) at New York Jets

LOL Jets Head Coach Adam Gase still hasn’t been fired despite losing 24-0 to Miami last week. What’s it gonna take, I wonder? A second consecutive shutout may do it, but the Bills defense has been terrible, so it’ll take a real commitment to ineptitude for the Jets to put up their second squadoosh in a row. NY QB Sam Darnold is returning to the lineup, but he’s going to be without his best weapon, WR Jamison Crowder. I honestly feel terrible for poor Sam, as he was drafted into the worst situation I can remember. At least David Carr was hit enough that he likely doesn’t remember ALL of the bad stuff. 

Nearly all of the Bills’ TEs are in the COVID-19 protocol, so I’m not sure how they’re gonna address that. BRING BACK JAY RIEMERSMA!

Dallas Cowboys at Washington Football Team (-1)

The Cowboys being underdogs against Washington is hilarious, even more so because it’s justified. I thought QB Andy Dalton would do a decent job leading the Cowboys offense last week against Arizona, and I was very, very wrong. I still think he can get his shit together somewhat, but the ceiling for this team has been lowered to “Darren Sproles might have to duck a bit” height. I can only condone watching this game for schadenfreude purposes, but even that’s stretching it. Any more than a quarter is just straight-up masochism.

Green Bay Packers (-3.5) at Houston Texans

I’m simultaneously excited to watch this game and struggling to come up with anything novel to say about it. I’m interested to see how Green Bay deploys their awesome CB Jaire Alexander, as whichever Texans WR avoids him is likely to be peppered with targets. Shoutout to Will Fuller’s hamstrings for holding up so far and allowing him to kick ass. 

As of right now it looks like Green Bay will be without studly RB Aaron Jones and sexy touchdown beast TE Robert Tonyan, which isn’t great. But, if there’s one opponent where you should still be ok using a backup RB, it’s the Houston Texans and their atrocious rush defense. Wait, why am I picking Houston? Whatever, fuck it, the heart wants what the heart wants.

LATE GAMES

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A couple of days ago, it looked like the entire Las Vegas offensive line might miss this game due to being placed on the COVID-19/Reserve list. As of this writing, all those beefy boys are cleared to play, which is good news since they’re going against Tampa Bay’s top-shelf defense (ranked #1 in defensive DVOA). Even with their full compliment of offensive personnel, I still predict many hilarious angry and frustrated faces from Jon Gruden.

Tampa Bay has decided to sign WR Antonio Brown, despite already having two Pro Bowl-caliber receivers in Mike Evans and Chris Godwin. It’s pretty clear this signing was done entirely because QB Tom Brady wanted it, as Brady has been pushing for his team to sign Brown going back to last year in New England. It’s so weird, Tom Brady doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would advocate for an emotionally unstable and supremely narcissistic accused rapist who’s left multiple organizations in disarray upon his unceremonious departure.  

Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Denver Broncos

Fuck yeah, our first potential snow game of the year! The gametime forecast as of right now calls for 5-degree windchill temps with a 35-40 percent chance of flakes throughout. That sounds horrible to play in, but glorious to watch. If we don’t get at least one shot of steam rising off of an offensive lineman’s head I’m gonna be pissed. I’m curious to see what Kansas City does with newly acquired RB Le’Veon Bell in this game. He’s definitely played in more winter-weather games than my boy Clyde Edwards-Helaire, so do they give him more carries this week than they would normally? I hope not, but I can definitely see the argument for it.

San Francisco 49ers at New England Patriots (-3)

I’m a little shaken (relatively, I’m not a complete lunatic) by how shitty New England, and Cam Newton in particular, looked against Denver last week. The lack of practice time due to multiple COVID-related outbreaks is a valid reason for it, but still. I think the Niners are the much better team when healthy, but they’re gonna be missing their best RB Raheem Mostert for this game (and the next few), which does impede their power-run game somewhat. Backup Jerick McKinnon is still very good, he just has a different, less-demoralizing style. Handsome Jimmy will have to make some plays, and I think he can do just enough. The overall talent gap will be too much for NE to overcome, I fear.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Los Angeles Chargers (-7.5)

The Jags have lost five straight games coming into this one, while the Chargers have dropped four in a row. Something’s gotta give! I will say that the Jacksonville losses seem more depressing (3 of them were by double-digits), while even though L.A. is losing, they at least feel exciting. A shiny rookie QB who looks decent will do that, I guess. Still, I’m riding with my man Minshew to cover one last time here. If he fails, well, I think it’ll be time for us to go our separate ways. “Separate Ways” by Journey is also what plays in Gardiner Minshew’s helmet speaker instead of play calls, coincidentally. 

SNF: Seattle Seahawks (-3.5) at Arizona Cardinals

Seattle’s already abysmal secondary is going to be down Pro Bowl safety Jamal Adams for this one, so Cards QB Kyler Murray should be able to sling it around with relative ease. His best weapon, WR Deandre Hopkins is Questionable with a lingering ankle injury, but he’s been playing through it so far and it hasn’t seemed to slow him much. I think this is the week the magic runs out for the Seahawks, and they take their first L of the season. Russell Wilson can’t bail them out EVERY time. Probably. This game is likely to be the stylistic opposite of the Monday nighter, because...

MNF: Chicago Bears at Los Angeles Rams (-6)

...all signs point to this being a butt-ugly game. I like good defense, don’t get me wrong, but nobody should purposely watch Nick Foles and Jared Goff play QB against competent defenses. I suppose I can see some entertainment value in getting to see both Aaron Donald and Khalil Mack torment quarterbacks in the same game, but I think I’m gonna pass for the same reason that I don’t really like to watch animals get eaten in nature shows. I get that it’s the way things are meant to happen, but damn. I’m a real wimp, by the way.

Last Week’s Record: 7-7

Season Record: 44-38-4

Oh yeah. It’s happening.

Over the next three weeks or so, you guys are gonna find out why 1) my roommate is awesome, 2) why the stuff she makes is awesome, and 3) why you should buy it.

Why “fifteen days” if I’m doing this over three weeks? Because the High Holy Days are this week, kinderlach, and also because I have to assume some night I’m going to get home from work and go “ . . . . nope. Bed now.” (Tonight is not that night.) But I will certainly have plenty to talk about.

SO LET’S GET STARTED WITH SOME LIP BALMS YEAH

THIS IS WHAT I’M USING RIGHT NOW.

(I stole the photo from her Etsy because it looks way better than the one that’s been getting banged around in my purse. You understand.)

So let’s start with a little bit of background. I’m a chewer. When I’m nervous, I chew my lips. You’ve probably done the same thing from time to time--you get that little flake of chapped skin and it’s easier to just pull it than let it keep catching. Except for me, it’s way more than “from time to time,” and when stuff in my life is really going down the toilet you can tell because I’ll just keep going until I’m bleeding. (Anxiety disorder is bad for you, kids.)

If you follow my blog, you can kind of imagine what my mouth looked like ten days ago. If you’re lucky enough to be a couple of reblogs away from my blog, and not part of this madhouse, it, uh. It was pretty bad. My scabs had scabs. It was gross. It was painful. I was not in the mood. So-called medical-grade lip balm was not helping.

So I literally dug into my jar of quarters, as one does during the week one isn’t getting paid, and went “JEN I NEED LIP BALM.”

I picked this one specifically because I can’t taste it. There are reviews on her Etsy that say it’s awesome, but to me it just smells pretty. (And also exactly as advertised.) This is always good when you’re trying to STOP licking your lips. So I grabbed this lip balm, slathered it on, and every time I caught myself licking or biting I’d put on more.

I wanna show you guys something.

There’s no photo processing on this picture and I’m not wearing makeup.

That’s my mouth AFTER TWO DAYS.

Look at it, guys. LOOK AT IT.

Do you see scabs or rough skin or anything that indicates two days prior I’d been through so many layers of skin I was bleeding?

I’m not saying this stuff is magic, I’m just saying there’s a reason it’s three bucks where a tube of Chapstick is a buck nineteen. That reason is because Chapstick is basically glorified mineral oil, which is literally a byproduct that happens when we make gasoline, and while it might sound metal to be rubbing dead dinosaurs on your lips it’s actually really bad for you. As in “can cause cancer” bad. Chapstick also has camphor in it. Which feels awesome for thirty seconds and then actually dries your lips out. As in “the cure is literally causing the disease.”

Zeo’s stuff is not made with dead dinosaurs or camphor. As in “if your lips are bad enough you can actually feel it sinking in, which is very weird but also kinda cool.” As in “I am willing enough to talk about this stuff that I took a picture and didn’t smooth out all the weird little red bits on my face, just to make a point.” Instead of being caressed by ancient death and carcinogens you will feel like you have just been gently kissed by Cate Blanchett, who wants you to travel safely from Rivendell and also have amazing lips.

IT GETS BETTER THOUGH FRIENDS ROMANS COUNTRYMEN

Maybe you don’t like chocolate oranges. Maybe you’d prefer a different flavor. I AM HERE TO TELL YOU ZEO HAS APPROXIMATELY ONE MILLION AND TWO FLAVORS FOR YOU (okay actually there are something like 25 of them on her shop right now stop judging my math skills) Several of them, like the Cinnamon Apple, I have never had the chance to taste-test. But I was the official tester for all of the Sailor Senshi flavors, and they’re fabulous. (At least one of them garnered the comment “subjectively, this is disgusting. Objectively, it’s perfect.” Yes, I tested the cherry vanilla one. Eeeuuuurrrghhh. I'm guessing it’s great if you love cherry, though.)

SO WHY DO YOU WANT ON THIS GRAVY TRAIN

I have five good reasons for you. In a handy-dandy list, no less.

1) You’ll be supporting a small business owned by a really rad neurodivergent woman, in a very concrete way--sales this month go to renew her license for Adobe, which lets her produce the really cute art on her packaging. (The rest of the time, you are helping feed her cats. This is also a very noble goal.)

2) She’s trying to expand her business to include offerings at anime conventions, and hitting her sales goal this month--it’s $400 and she’s a little over a quarter of the way there--will enable her to purchase her first artist alley table at a local con. Which goes back to #1, because it’d really help her be better able to pay her bills.

3) COOL FANDOM SWAG. Currently available are Sailor Moon and Yu-Gi-Oh!, but she’s got Power Rangers coming down the line, and also . . . you can pick your own fandom, via her Patreon. Yuri on Ice? You got it. Harry Potter? Aye aye. Some TV series exactly three people have heard of? SIGN UP, IT’S YOURS.

4) If you buy more than $15 worth of stuff before October 31st and let her know @prismatic-bell sent you, you can get a 60-second video of my cat. He’s ridiculous. He plays fetch. Zeo taught him to “speak” for treats. (He is not a dog in a cat costume.) It won’t make your face all silky, but you can laugh, so like, there’s that.

5) BECAUSE THIS STUFF IS AWESOME. Like seriously that should probably be reasons #1-4 also but it’s not, you’re gonna have to deal with that, sorry. I just spent like an hour typing a post on why it’s awesome. HOPEFULLY THIS POINT IS ALREADY MADE.

And where can you find these offerings?

Her Etsy is right here.

Her Patreon is right here.

Next time on Fifteen Days Of @sailorzeo‘s Soaps and Sundries: SCENT ROLLERS AND WHY THEY ARE AWESOME.

113 - Niecelet

Gooooooood eevening, fine citizens. I’m your late night host this week, here to keep you company after sundownn.

Welcome to Night Vale!

As you regular listeners already know, I took over the night shifts this week, because I’ve been spending my days with a very special house guest. Well, more like one and a half house guests. My favorite cousin Sabina is visiting, and she’s 7 months pregnant with what will be my second ever niece. Well, my first ever niece once removed. First ever niece once removed? That takes too long, let’s do – “niecelet”.

My sister’s daughter Janice is a teenager. It’s been so long since I’ve had a new baby in my family so, if you hear a certain knowing, avuncular quality in my voice, it’s because you are listening to an expecting uncle. I’m already getting some of those leather patches sewed onto the elbows of my windbreaker.

All week, Sabina and I have been reading baby books, and I am a veritable expert at this point. A baby at 7 months is as big as an eggplant. She can already get the hiccups and déjà-baby-vu, and has a fully developed sense of comedic timing. I’m holding an eggplant with me here in this studio to practice supporting her neck. Also to make sure I have something to eat when I get home. Sabina’s cleaned out the fridge pretty thoroughly.

Back at my place, Sabina’s been keeping the radio on 24/7, so the niecelet will know the owner of this dulcet baritone already loves her very much. Hello, almost-niece!

Doing all this reading together, it seems crazy to learn just how vulnerable we are, when we first enter the world. Did you know that a newborn doesn’t even have kneecaps yet? That it has a hole in the top of its skull, which must be taped shut so the newborn does not escape through it during the night? It’s amazing any of us survive to the shaming ceremonies at all!

Speaking of rites of passage, the annual Night Vale Science Fair is scheduled for this Monday night. Every fourth grader is expected to report to the Rec Center for a fun-filled evening of free programs and live demonstrations. Organizers say the kiddos will have a chance to make a 1:1 scale volcano, that spews real ash and molten igneous rock. They’ll learn how a pile of pennies can be transformed into a battery, simply by taking those pennies to Walgreens and exchanging them for a pack of Duracell double A’s. They’ll learn about about centripetal force by pouring a bucket full of water, and then filling out a worksheet on centripetal force. They’ll plant a bean sprout in a Styrofoam cup that won’t disintegrate until their grandchildren have set off on exploratory missions to find another planet that can support bean sprouts.

Hmm, what else might be on the Community Calendar this week, you ask? Well, let me work at my own pace over here, OK pal? Like all jobs worth doing, this one takes focus and patience. You can’t just rush through it. As my optometrist says, “measure twice, cut once, then do the left eye.” So I guess that’s really measure four times total and cut two times, but I had an astigmatism so I ended up just sticking with contacts anyway.

Sooo.. [papers rustling] let’s see here. [clears throat] M-h-h-h-hmm, this week’s events. On Tuesday night, head over to the Band Shell to hear a set from Ouroboros, the rock band that only plays covers of their own songs. Wednesday, Ablution in Fresca to celebrate the start of the Andorran New Year. Thursday is Thirsty Thursday. Consume no liquids. You’re gonna get real thirsty! Friday has been indefinitely delayed by weather at O’Hare, and is now pleading with a United representative for a hotel voucher to avoid sleeping in a plastic chair in Concourse C.

Early morning on Saturday, we are in for a rare astronomical treat. The Earth will fully eclipse the Sun, blotting out its light completely, so that only a ring of wispy blue remains visible against the blackness. Now this eclipse will not be observable on Earth, of course, and to our knowledge there is no planet on which this phenomenon could be observed. There’s just nothing on that particular vector in space, but at 4:13 AM on Saturday morning, the total eclipse will occur, and that blue corona will shine softly in the dark, like a delicate smoke ring. And that dim blue halo will represent the entirety of us. Our dramas, dreams, and disappointments. The first ride without the training wheels. Our 8th grade dances. Our double Windsors and our veils, our sleepless nights in waiting rooms. Our rush hour commuters, our dozing through recitals til the one we love goes on. Our crying in the car as the one we love leaves home. Just that thin filament of blue, on which we wage our peace.

The on Sunday, tacos and gun safety with Three-eyed Bill at First Methodist.

Stay tuned, savvy listeners, for in a moment I’ll be sharing Night Vale’s third quarter economic development report. To my knowledge, we’ve never had an economic development report before for any quarter, but the press release looked official, and we all know that new municipal arms of government form all the time. Arms that then pull back to be reabsorbed by the government shoulder from which they sprouted.

But before crunching those numbers, a quick message from today’s sponsor. Equinox Gym. At Equinox, we focus on the whole body. Particularly, the soft and vulnerable parts of that body. Stop by our windowless complex today to meet with a dietician about this month’s promotion, the Zima cleanse. Or for even faster results, nothing torches calories like our calorie torch. Also, new members this week to Equinox receive 60 days of free access to our popular Judgment Spa. This has been a word from our sponsor.

[booming voice] Now to business news. Whoa! Did that sound unusually powerful to you? Ooh, I sorta took myself by surprise there, like I grew a suit or something! [chuckles] [clears throat] The Night Vale Economic Development Board, or NV-ec-dev-B for short and cumbersome, sent a press release at the closing bell of the Night Vale stock exchange. The bulletin said that futures are down, way down. Although the recent past is trading briskly. In response to declining levels of interests, NV-ec-dev-B plans to incentivize consumer spending. At the start of tomorrow’s business day, they’ll launch an abject prompt campaign of xenophobia, branded as nationalism, branded as civic bride, branded as a 2008 F150 Ford truck with satellite radio, air conditioned seats, and a heavy-duty hitch to haul away whatever it is you’re trying to hide.

So make plans this weekend to head out towards the used car lot with your hands in the air and your checkbook in your mouth, to meet with a sales person about financing options. You might be surprised by how few years of indentured servitude can you get you behind the wheel of a Ford truck.

You know what cars make me think of? Well, Carlos. I guess, but everything makes me think of Carlos. And his name is an anagram of “Lo cars”. He’s out of town at Erlenmeyer Flask Con this week, and I miss something fierce! But what I was going to say is that the thought of buying a car reminds me of my niecelet! It’s extraordinary to think that she’ll be a teenager some day, getting her driver’s permit, then her license, then her crossbow - going through all of these phases we all pass through. It’s like there’s a future attached to her already. Inside Sabina, there’s a baby, and seated inside the baby there’s the toddler. And within her are the blueprints for the girl. And soon, she’ll be out here learning to play the sitar and considering vegetarianism, then voting and buying lottery tickets. Well, those are the same thing really. And I’ll get to bear witness to this blooming life. Some day, she might even decide to have a niece of her own.

[tearily] Oh, OK. Um, something is in young Cecil’s eye over here. Ooh! Hang tight, team, I’m just gonna run out and grab a bunch of tissues from the supply closet to remove this bothersome… [key turns in lock, falls down] OK, listeners, I must admit I’m in a state of concerned agitation here. When I tried to open the door of the studio, the handle – came off in my hand and and and and when I went to reinsert it, I found that the hole was (tamped) full of soft hot tar, which cannot be up to code. So now I find myself in a small, soundproof, airtight room with a doorless handle in my left hand and a handle-less door before me. I’m uh… Huh… I’m- I’m I’m uncertain of just how to proceed, uh, I can’t imagine there’s more than a few hours’ worth of oxygen in here, even if the studio’s potted fern works double duty on converting the carbon dioxide.

Oh man and of course, I left my phone in my jeans in the other room, you know, after I changed into my professional radio hosting unitard. I, OK, I need some time to assess the situation.

I’ll leave you to the weather.

[Weather: "If We Live" by Disparition]

OK. OK, OK, alright calm down, calm down Cecil, calm down, and you can beat this. be like the patient viper who does not strike until his prey is upon him. [sharp exhale] Be like the praying mantis whose head is a guitar pick. Keep your heart rate low and your focus steady, and good God, sit down, man. Save your strength. Breathe deep enough to get the air inside your brain and think. What would an uncle do?

Hmmm. Hummmmmmmm. [getting faster and higher] Hmmmmmmmmmmm, hmmmmmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmmmmmm… Oh! OK, I’ve got it. Easy, I just need one of you to come and open the door. [chuckles] OK, here I am behaving like I’m alone, but of course I’m not alone, ha ha ha ha ha! Oh, I’ve got all of Night Vale listening. Ooh, that is a relief! Come to think of it, I imagine hundreds of you may be on your way already, and I can’t have the whole town rushing over all at once. That would cause traffic jams, hysteria, straightline winds gusting up to 60 knots. [laughs] If you’re on your way, just shoot quick flare into the sky, so that everybody knows you’re the one on the way. M-more importantly so that I know you’re on the way.

You guys, it’s like 8 PM, you’re not all in your PJ’s yet. Just need one person to make the trip. It’s like an 8-minute drive from your apartment, come on! Is… Is no one listening? I mean, the memo from management at the last all-staff meeting did mention low late night ratings but – this is not low, this is talking into a tin can on string whose other end is tied to a fire hydrant at the bottom of the sea, this is utter futility, this is falling in the woods and no one’s there to hear you. This is not seeing the Cecil for the trees, this is – Kafka meets Becket and tells him to talk to the hand. This is – stop, full stop. Cecil. [deep breath] This indignation does me no good at all. Just burns through my oxygen supply, which is running low already. This rate, I’ll never survive until the morning commuters tune in. Just think, Cecil. Think like an uncle.

Ooh. That’s it! There is at least one person listening. Babies never sleep thru the night, right? So you, niecelet, you should be able to hear me. Tho I imagine the sound of my voice may be muffled by the blankets on the guest bed and Sabina’s abdominal muscles. Alright, niecelet, I need you. We’ve got to find a way to wake up Sabina. I need you to kick, brace your little elbows on the soft wall behind you and really kick! Aim for a spot under the ribs, that roof of bone above you. And again. [pants rhythmically] Kick! Good, again! [pants rhythmically] Kick! Good, again! Now give it everything you’ve got this time! Sabina, wake up! This is an emergency! Wake u-

Oh. The station phone is ringing. God I forgot we even had this. uh caller, you’re on the air.

Sabina: Hey, Cecil. The baby was keeping me up and I turned on the station and-

Cecil: Sabina! Oh, thank God you’re awake! No, no it’s not a shtick, listen. I am trapped in the studio and I just need someone to open the door from the outs-

Sabina: Oh OK, I’ll be right there. But I’m starving, I may stop by Subway for a mashed potato and Nutella sandwich.

Cecil: No, please come now! We’ve got snacks in the breakroom pantry.. I think. I’ll set you up with some (gorb and gevilta) fish.

Sabina: Alright. Hey, did you know that there’s a faceless old woman living in your home? She keeps trying to put lotion on my belly, while I’m sleeping.

Cecil: Yeah, she does that. Listen, my spare office keys are by the lucky cat. See you soon, and thank you Sabina!

Sabina: Hey, enough with the lotion, lady!

Ooooohh. And thank you, niecelet! At negative two months old, you’ve already saved a life! And somehow I get the feeling mine might be just the first of many. If you need bailing out of a tight spot some day, you know who to call. I’m the baritone you can count on any time, kid, day or night shift.

Ahhh, man! I can’t wait for that door to open so I can get a lungful of fresh air. Oh, it’s funny how small a room can feel when you’re not allowed to leave. Oh, sorry I [chuckles] forgot who I was talking to for a second. Well, as soon as you’re out here breathing air yourself, I’m getting you a pair of cleats and a pair of baby shinguards and a baby cape, too. I can’t wait to meet you, little hero of a niecelet! But first, I’m making your mother some midnight eggplant parmesan.

Stay tuned next for the sounds of a door opening, a rush of oxygen-rich air, and a wheezing celebration of an overworked respiratory system. Aany second now. Aaaany second. Aaaaaanyyyy secondd.

[long silence]

Today’s proverb: Follow your heart. You need it. Where did it ever learn to walk?