#Like Bee and Renee might have the most knowledge

[quiescentdestiny]

thinking about the fact that if Neil had died in Baltimore, literally none of Andrew's family would even know he was broken as much as he was by it. Like they saw him choke Kevin, but even after Baltimore, Nicky assumed it was just a fling.

[codename-adler]

Death of Heroes

Because not even Neil can outrun the ephemerality of men.

Renee is the first one to go. 

Nearing sixty but never reaching it, she is outlived by Abby and Wymack. At least Stephanie Walker is waiting for her at the gates of Heaven, but for the rest of her Foxes, the loss is heavy.

It’s cancer. Leukemia.

It started with the bruises from her sparring matches with Andrew not healing very well. Then not at all. After decades of maintaining these monthly meetings, of keeping her body healthy, Renee finally has to give it up. She knows something is wrong, and she knows that these sessions won’t be of any help, now.

Then the extreme fatigue starts. Still, Renee doesn’t do a thing about it. Or at least, she lets life go its own course. She looses weight, which she already doesn’t have much of. But then the nosebleeds begin, and it’s no use telling Allison to stop worrying. The diagnosis is unsurprising, yet still shattering. And it’s not a good prognosis either, but it’s still not bad enough for the doctor to give up the Five-Year survival plan.

Renee has to speak up. Ally, I don’t want to do this. She has to put her foot down. Allison, my love, it’ll be okay. I won’t get better, you and I both know that. But it can be okay. It can still be good.

Renee doesn’t get treatment. Renee doesn’t tell anybody, except Andrew. Because Andrew knows, somehow, that she made a terrible, irreversible choice. Because Andrew only deals in truths. Because Andrew is Andrew, and just as he needed her all those years ago, she needs him now.

A little more than six months pass, with less and less outings from Renee and more and more excuses from Allison, and Renee gets sick. Really sick. It starts like a regular cold. Then it looks more like the flu. And suddenly it’s pneumonia, and respiratory difficulties, and lung failure. She’s in that hospital bed, wearing that gown, breathing in that mask. Renee finally nods to Allison, giving her consent.

Ally makes the call.

Only Andrew and Dan make it in time.

Renee Walker goes out like a light.

The Foxes, who had once upon a time been used to murders, life-threatening schemes and acts of extreme violence, had never really known Death itself. The simple, yet inevitable fate of human lives. Of going quietly into the night. It’s all so quiet. So anticlimactic. It’s so quiet, too quiet, too heavy with silence. This time, there is no one to blame, no one to punish, no one to take responsibility.

It’s just life. It’s just death.

Wymack and Abby can’t believe that one of their Foxes, on of their kids, left before them. Renee’s Korean roots made her look barely a day over forty, which made it all so much worse. Renee’s death takes a toll on every single one of them. Because it’s Renee, the best of them. Because all her papers are in orders, her will to date, her wishes known; just as when she was alive, she leaves no chaos behind her.

There is nothing and no one to be mad at, except life.

In the cemetery where Stephanie Walker is buried, Andrew buys a large lot of land. (Large enough to one day welcome all the Foxes) The tomb is moved over there, and Renee’s name is added. A tree is planted above her scattered ashes. It’s very small, very fragile, but with the years, it grows strong.

For the first time, the Foxes realize that, despite going through Hell and back in their youth, they are not immortal. There is nothing to be done about that, but it hurts. It hurts to lose their angel this way, so soon, so suddenly. It hurts to lose, period. It feels like a failure, like giving up. They lost her. They lost.

But somehow, they gained something else they might never know about. Renee might have been the only religious one among them, but that didn’t stop her from becoming their Guardian Angel. Because somehow, from then on, the Foxes were spared.

Let me show you.

Just as Bee had a few years before Renee, Abby, then Wymack, simply die in their sleep, no fight, no agony. None of them have to see another Fox go before them. They don’t have to go through that indescribable ordeal ever again. They are spared the pain.

Then decades pass, enough for the remaining Foxes to grow very old, and live very long. Not infinitely, but long enough.

Matt is the next one to go.

Matt has worked hard all his life, both mentally and physically. It comes to no surprise, then, that arthritis chose to invade his body. For the first few years living with the diagnosis, natural medicine and osteopathy are enough to keep the pain at bay. It doesn’t stop Matt from doing anything. He babysits his 9 grandchildren with Dan every week; he goes on roadtrips with Dan every summer; he goes on a light jog with Dan every day.

It’s just that one day, it’s not enough anymore. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the pain becomes too much for Matt to do his day-to-day activities. And really, the pain, he could take; it was an old friend, a familiar feeling, almost like a sixth sense.

It was the mental toll of it all that he couldn’t take. To have to say no to seeing his grandchildren. No to driving around endlessly and aimlessly for hours. No to waking up in sync with Dan every morning, and no to their routine, and no, and no, and just- not living.

For the first time in a long time, Matt doesn’t want to do this anymore.

But he does, still. He smiles, and he lies, and he tries to will away the pain.

It all comes down to one afternoon, when he takes his painful walk of the day around the neighborhood. There are three little kids playing Exy in their driveway, when suddenly a ball escapes their racquets and rolls down in the street. The smallest kid runs after it, runs and runs and runs, without looking. Kind of like Neil, Matt thinks to himself before his body acts of his own. The kid doesn’t see the car, and the car doesn’t see the kid. Matt sees both.

The BMW is going way over the limit, its sleek black sides reflecting the sun too brightly. Despite his pain, despite his age, despite his now slow reflexes, Matt leaps. He screams at the kid to stop and turn around, to let the ball roll away, but to no avail. 

Matt pushes the kid away in time for the car to hit him instead, and only him.

The rest becomes a blur, but the final verdict is as such: broken hip, shattered leg, probably won’t walk ever again, even with surgery. The doctors and surgeons warn Matt that with his age, his pre-existing condition, and his drug history, surgery might kill him. But Matt refuses to be bedridden for the rest of his already miserable life. Dan knows that. She knows that he has to try. Knows that he might not pull through. She also knows that Matt wants to go, has wanted to for a while now. 

She calls Neil. She calls Allison. From there, all the Foxes are bound to get the news. Matt promises to wait until their arrival before going into surgery. In the meantime, the nurses start a morphine line, after warning the couple very strongly about the side effects and the risks. But Matt is in pain, terrible pain, and it’s a compromise to wait for his Foxes. It takes about a week for all of them to come to his bedside, with Nicky being last, coming all the way from Germany. Neil and Allison barely leave his room; Dan doesn’t at all. The others take turns, leaving as much space for Matt’s kids and grandkids as their hearts can allow.

The open spot for Matt’s surgery is on a Friday.

Matt Boyd does not make it to Friday. 

The morphine is too heavy on his heart. It was a possible outcome, not as alarming as the upcoming surgery, but... Matt had secretely wished to go ever since and- maybe, up there in Heaven, someone heard him... 

Dan and Matt had had a mutual understanding, that it was okay, but it doesn’t make it any more easy to let go. 

Two months into Matt’s departure, Allison moves in with Dan. She walks her through every stage of grief. She grieves all over again herself, too. But they make it.

Same goes for Andrew with Neil. Neil doesn’t know loss like this. Death like this.

And yet. And yet. Deep, deep down, Neil is scared. That after all his years of running, and fighting, and lying, he won’t get that peaceful ending Matt was granted.

But Neil lives.

And Nicky leaves.

A few months after Matt, he and Erik simply stay in the States. They say it’s because they want to be close, because they don’t want to miss anything, because they don’t want to risk a Fox leaving without a chance at saying goodbye. Because Nicky misses his Aaron and his Andrew.

Which are all valid and true motives. It’s just not the whole truth.

Nicky has dementia. Alzheimer’s, to be precise. Diagnosed about a year ago. It’s not bad yet, but- It’s the endless back-and-forth between the house and “der Supermarkt” because Nicky forgot what he drove there for in the first place. It’s forgetting words in all the languages Nicky speaks. It’s freaking out at all the Germans speaking German, because Nicky sometimes believe he is still living in America. It’s not finding the Columbia house and panicking when Nicky can’t get a hold of Andrew or Aaron.

It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking, it’s terrifying, but it’s manageable.

Once Nicky and Erik settle back down in North Carolina, they both wonder how long it’ll take before the twins figure it out, because there is no way Nicky is telling them, but he also knows nothing can get past his twins.

And he’s right. Between Aaron’s acute knowledge of Medicine and Andrew’s reknown lie-detector skills, it takes about 14 days for them to take Nicky hostage and demand the truth. 

As the year comes to an end, Nicky’s dementia doesn’t seem to progress that much. He seems to escape the worst. He doesn’t forget anyone. He doesn’t become aggressive, doesn’t go missing, doesn’t lose any function of his body. Without looking too closely, Nicky is simply getting old. 

The twin girls he and Erik adopted get to move back in for a little while, having lived in the U.S. all their lives and seeing their parents fly to Germany after their retirement. They know, too, and try to make the most of it. They are lucky. They are so lucky. Nicky is a miracle patient.

In the end, though, it’s Nicky’s body rather than his mind that gives out. Once you reach a certain point in time living with the disease, but without the general complications of it, eventually the brain has trouble managing all the organs of the body. So instead of forgetting to eat, or forgetting names and faces, sometimes your brain doesn’t remember how to make your heart beat. Or how to make make your lungs breathe.

Nicky Hemmick stops breathing in the middle of the night, after having wished his twin daughters goodnight, texted his other set of twins goodnight, and kissed his husband goodnight. Nicky had thought, then, that it was indeed, a good night.

Just as he had remembered his Foxes until the end, he was remembered by them as the big-hearted lover that Heaven had just gained as its new angel.

Too soon after him, though, it’s Allison’s turn. 

It’s not that she’d simply been waiting around for the day she could be reunited with Renee. She just didn’t understand why her Foxes kept leaving, and why she was still stuck here without her other half. 

She didn’t just wait, though. She helps Dan out with the grandkids, and sometimes the grown-up kids too. She volunteers a lot. She gives back to the Columbia community, and all around the world. She travels to places she’s never been, places that remind her of Renee, but are void of painful memories. She empties their bucket list, and much more. The last thing Allison has yet to do, the only thing left to do, is mending her relationship with her parents. Or parent. Singular. In spite of everything, including the death of her husband, Francesca Reynolds was still standing strong at the head of the Reynolds empire. 100 years old was nothing when you lived in spite. 

In a twisted way, Allison believed that maybe her mother was the last piece she needed to mend before she was allowed to go. That despite being gone for years, Renee was still there somewhere, looking out for her and making sure she didn’t have any regrets. 

So Allison accomplished the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the impossible. For the first time in decades, she flew back to the Reynolds estate and spoke to her mother. In person. 

It was not the emotional reunion Renee might have hoped for, but it was a reunion still. That was more than enough for Allison. They didn’t talk about the big things. The important things. But they talked. They talked. And they scheduled another talk. 

Back home with Dan, Allison embraced her friend and let the tears fall. She was grateful for her friend, but both of them knew that these were not the arms Allison wished to be held in. She went to rest a bit before dinner, and she tried to imagine how it would feel like to have Renee hold her again.

For someone as loud, as present and as strong as she was, Allison Walker slipped quietly from time. 

When Dan found her, she could only smile tearfully. She played with her hair one last time as she called her Foxes.

Allison left Dan in charge of her finances, and so she took over her charity duties and went above and beyond to honor her friend’s memory. Her sister.

Dan thought she would be next. She wished, she hoped, she prayed to be next.

She wasn’t.

Kevin was.

He might have been the biggest and hardest loss to weather. It wasn’t a feeling that could be explained. As painful as it had been to lose Renee, and Matt, and Nicky, and Allison, losing Kevin was... the great and terrible 10, as they’d say.

Kevin should have died way sooner. His liver should have given out because of all the alcohol it had endured in Kevin’s youth. His heart should have given out because of all the stress it had faced for most of Kevin’s life. All the bad things that could happen with old age should have happened to Kevin, but they didn’t. They didn’t. 

Death came knocking one day, and politely asked him if he would please follow them, and Kevin simply took it as a sign that his time was up.

That day, Kevin had felt a numbing pain in his chest all morning long. Used to little injuries here and there, he hadn’t thought anything of it. And he certainly wasn’t about to worry his doctor of a husband... 

However, as the sun reached it’s highest in the sky, Kevin couldn’t really hide his pain any longer. He had lain down on their couch for a bit, but he couldn’t seem to get back up. It was too exhausting. So he called for Aaron, as loud as he could in the state he was. 

As Aaron stumbled into the living room, Kevin tried to use his softest voice to inform his husband of the situation. Aaron immediately called an ambulance, and when the vehicle took them both away, he reached for his phone again to make, once again, a terrible call to their Foxes. But through his oxygen mask, Kevin reached out to grap his wrist and whispered, with difficulty, just Neil... just Andrew...

Because here’s the thing: Kevin loved his Foxes, and his Foxes loved him back. Immensely. 

He loved them so much he had married one, with another one of them as best man (Neil), another as his husband’s (Andrew), and yet another one as their celebrant (Renee). 

They loved him so much that it was only short of worship by a hair or two. And Kevin knew that. He loved Dan like a sister. And by extension, he loved Erik like a brother, too. And he loved all the Foxes’ children and grandchildren like his own, despite never being a parent himself. 

But Neil and Andrew... There were no words for what they were to him. He knew that he wouldn’t have to talk them through it. He knew they would be the only ones strong enough and close enough to hold Aaron up in case it all turned to shit the moment he passed the hospital doors. 

And being the History nerd he had always been, Kevin had written letters, a long time ago. To his Foxes. Most of them had left before him, and so he could never give them their letters, but Dan, and Erik for Nicky, could still have those letters. Kevin poured everything into these letters. It had taken him years, ever since Renee’s departure. He wrote, and threw away, and started again, until he got it right. Nine letters, for his nine Foxes. Andrew knew about it. He’d give Nicky’s and the upperclassmen’s to Dan and Erik, and they’d understand. Kevin didn’t want them to be there, at the very end of it all. He just wanted Aaron. And Neil. And Andrew.

Those three had letters waiting for them, too. Andrew would hand them over a month later. But he would never open his.

Andrew and Neil arrived just before 1 PM. Kevin was hooked on all sorts of IVs and still had the oxygen mask on. His heart monitor was beeping very, very slowly, erratically. He was still Kevin Day in all his gloriousness, but he was much more Kevin, their beloved Kevin.

On one side of the hospital bed, Aaron never let go of Kevin’s hand. On the other side, Kevin removed the mask and weakly motioned for Neil to take the other hand. But Neil was stunned. Frozen. So Andrew came up behind him, and held Kevin’s hand. 

It would be the first, and the last time.

Just as Neil finally sprung into action and went to put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, feeling his wiry muscles and his fragile bones underneath the hospital gown, Kevin closed his eyes. 

The heart monitor began flatlining.

Neil looked at the monitor, then to Kevin. He looked at Andrew, then back at Kevin, and then at Aaron. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on one thing. He was still hoping. He was still refusing.

Aaron lowered his head. Kissed Kevin’s hand.

Andrew held on tighter to Kevin’s other hand. Gripped the back of Neil’s neck.

Kevin took Death’s hand, which felt a lot like Aaron’s, and Andrew’s, and Renee’s, and walked away.

Aaron unplugged the monitor. And called it.

Time of death: 13:01.

It took exaclty one month, day for day, for Aaron to leave as well. They called it the Broken Heart Syndrome. On the surface, Aaron had held it together. But Andrew knew. He saw. That he was losing him as well. 

Some could say that, by handing over Kevin’s letter, Andrew killed his brother. But those who would say that didn’t even begin to understand the complexity of the bond between twin brothers. Especially not the Minyards. 

Because what Andrew really did, with that letter, was gifting Aaron with relief.

Peace. Quiet. 

Love. 

Aaron could exhale, now. He would see Kevin soon, now.

And so in the same room, in the same bed as his husband’s, Aaron Minyard forced Death’s hand and demanded to see Kevin again.

And then there were three.

Dan lived for so long that she started to fear outliving her children. She felt old, so old. In her head and in her heart. She did not believe in a God, but she often found herself praying to someone, anyone. She did not believe in angels and demons, but she often wondered how long they would keep her from Death.

So she waited. For the days to go and the nights to pass. She barely ate anymore. She barely moved. She was only feeling okay when she slept outside, in her chair in the backyard, the sun shinning on her beautiful face. She could sleep for hours there, surrounded by her lively garden. The wind swayed her skirts, the trees whispered in her ears. It was okay.

And at the same time, it wasn’t. 

She was tired. She was lonely. Even Erik, a couple of years ago, had gone to rejoin his husband. Neil visited her at least once a week, but he still had Andrew. He couldn’t understand, nor could he stay away from him for too long. He would miss him too much.

Every year she celebrated another birthday, and every year she blew her candles wishing they were her last.

And at last, her wish came true.

Dan was expecting one of her kids to come by in the afternoon. The Carolina sun was shinning quite hard on her, so she had placed her chair in way that let the sunlight hit the back of her head, turned away completely from her house. Her daughter knew exactly where to find her when she arrived, and so she didn’t wait for a response to her presence before making her way down into the garden. She had called her mother multiple times, and had assumed she was sleeping when she hadn’t answered.

Dan was not sleeping.

Dan Wilds had left this world, the sunlight pouring down on her like the radiant goddess that she was.

Being one of the last Foxes, it took a day before Neil and Andrew got the news of her death. They don’t get involved in the funeral preparations, but they show up. And that’s enough. 

People don’t really bother them anymore, so they can bid farewell to their Captain in relative peace. They come by Dan’s house aftwerwards, too, and help her kids out with everything. Yes, even Andrew. 

Dan’s death makes them reflect the most.

About the Foxes. About each of their departures. How they all lived a good and long life. How they all died a good and quiet death. 

They think about how they were always the ones nearing death, always fighting to stay alive. About how they died a million deaths before the age of 18.

They think about how they are the last ones standing, even after everything. 

They survived. They lived. 

(They loved)

Neil and Andrew should not have gotten this far. They should not have lived this long. They shouldn’t have. But somehow, somewhere above, someone has watched over them and made sure that they didn’t get the ending they should’ve had, but the ending they deserved.

Neil and Andrew don’t really want to die. They don’t really want to live on either. But they take every day that they are given, to be with each other, to mend their hearts still, to breathe. 

They take every breath they can.

They wonder who will leave first. Who will have to say goodbye and stay behind, who will have to wait. 

It’s a fear neither of them had ever thought they’d have. Not like that.

And it’s only a matter of time before they get their answer. They are, after all, getting very old. It is both a blessing and a curse.

After decades of partnership, Neil and Andrew still go to bed the same way they did when they were eighteen. Both facing each other, their hands joined in the middle, their nose a breath apart.

After decades of peace, Neil and Andrew still wake from sleep at the slightest abnormality.

Which is why the minute Neil Josten gives out his last breath, Andrew awakes.

Neil’s hand in his is still warm and his skin is still soft. His hair, although completely white for quite some years now, still have that bronze glow to them. They’re still curly, and soft to the touch. Andrew passes a hand through them before resting it on the back of Neil’s neck. 

He looks at Neil like it’s the first time, tries to memorize every detail of his beautiful face. He rubs circle in his skin, and takes in everything that was, that is Neil. His husband. His junkie. His rabbit. His pipedream. His lover. His love.

Andrew doesn’t move from their bed. 

When he has finally spoken everything that he feels to Neil, from the safety of his mind, Andrew moves closer to him so their foreheads touch and noses align. He takes Neil’s lifeless hand again, and kisses it. He sets their hands back down, between the two of them, and looks at Neil one last time.

And slowly, Andrew Minyard closes his eyes, forever.

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

Asterix and the Legacy of the Original Authors

So I finally saw Asterix and the Secret of the Magic Potion (2018). Significantly, this is the first Asterix story I’ve experienced since the retirement of Albert Uderzo, the original co-creator of the characters and creative lead follower the death of Rene Goscinny.

And it was brilliant.

The plot, simply summarised, is that Getafix (Panoramix in the original French), venerable and wise village druid, slips and falls out of a tree for the first time in his long career. He begins to worry that he’s getting too old for this (indeed, Getafix’s age has always been ambiguous, but he’s easily the oldest recurring character after the appropiately named Geriatrix/Agecanonix, who’s certainly over 80), and that he needs to find a successor, not least of which because only he knows the formula for his legendary magic potion that gives the Gauls the super strength needed to hold off the Roman invasion (the film makes a running joke that druids never write things down). While on the search, an old rival of Getafix’s, Sulfurix (dubbed Demonix in the Canadian English dub, in case it wasn’t clear that he’s evil) is desperately trying to steal the formula, seeking to liberate the Gaulish lands from the Romans and not merely one village. Along with Asterix, Obelix and tagalong kid Pectin(/e), the heroes must find a successor, but is there a Gaulish druid worthy of this most sacred knowledge?

The animation is excellent, as it was in the previous animated outing Asterix and the Mansions of the Gods (2014), really capturing the look and feel of the comic albums. I feel like too much cartoon media these days is afraid to really exploit squash-and-stretch for expressive and dynamic purposes, and with Asterix’s trademark slapstick being Roman soldiers clobbered so hard their torsos sail off into the air before their feet have entirely realised what happened, it was necessary for this. The film is bright and crisp, and the light effects suitably dramatic (and with many a magical zip and zap, it’s crucial to have good lighting).

The story has many of the familiar beats. Alexandre Astier is clearly playing it a little bit safe, but considering he’s writing his own Asterix story, it’s safer to stick with that than to try and push it too far and risk alienating the audience. A crisis emerges, Asterix and Obelix and miscellaneous tagalongs leave the village, shenanigans happen, Asterix and Obelix have a falling out and become separated temporarily, there’s an ominous moment when the magic potion runs out, Romans attack the village, everyone gets back in time to save the day, Romans get punched a bit, big feast under the stars. What I liked, though, is how this story tried to do something interesting with the side characters. While Getafix is a very important character for the story, he rarely gets involved in the actual plot, so it’s nice to see more of him and in particular his character flaws - namely his stubbornness and attempts to do everything himself, even to the detriment of those around him. Even being confined to a primitive wheelchair for a lot of the film due to an injured ankle doesn’t stop him from taking a part, and it’s nice to see more of him than merely ‘wise wizardly old man, keeps calm and lectures people’. Unhygenix the fishmonger (Ordralfabetix) gets an amusing background arc where he believes that he could be Getafix’s successor and tries dabbling with druidcraft in the background, with amusing results. For once, his role isn’t just ‘gets in a fight with Fulliautomatix the blacksmith (Cetautomatix)’, and we get to see that he’s an interesting combination of surprisingly intelligent and thick as two short rocks. Fulliautomatix himself gets to have some humorous musing at his alchemical antics, and at one point the requisite Unhygenix/Fulliautomatix fight is successfully quelled, with Fulliautomatix admitting that he has a short temper and that this was unnecessary aggression on his part. Vitalstatistix (Abraracourcix) leads the village men (apart from the perennially unpopular bard Cacofonix (Assurancetourix)) to accompany Getafix halfway through, leaving the womenfolk to defend the village with a backup supply of potion. Happily, this means we also get to see more of the village women - headed up by Impedimenta (Bonnemine), Mrs Geriatrix (Geriatrix’s unnamed but incredibly young wife) and Bacteria (Ielosubmarine) - than just ‘being someone’s wife’ - Impedimenta plays a vital role in corralling the women for war and appears to be keeper of the potion reserves, while the others get more speaking roles and are able to participate in fights. It’s not much, but in a world of Gaulish men, the women tend to fall by the wayside unless they get to be a sex symbol or someone’s harridan wife. Cacofonix himself gets to play at being a chief, where his cowardly nature makes for an amusing contrast Impedimenta’s more no-nonsense practicality. We also get to see some of the Gaulish children for once! They make fun of their elders and play around with stolen Roman warrior stuff. When the going gets tough, though, the first thing the village defence team do is make sure the kids get somewhere safe, and Cacofonix gets a slightly tender moment where he tries to assure them that he’s going to be okay ... with a long winded speech rather than just getting on with it.

The real star of the film (well, alongside Asterix, Obelix and Getafix) is Pectin. Pectin is a scrappy little girl from the village who’s into inventing and engineering, and her establishing scene is ignoring the other kids playfighting so that she can finishing what seems to bee some kind of automatic watering machine. She’s smart, creative, appropriately afraid of the dangers that crop up but wants to do right by Getafix, whose wisdom she deeply admires. It’s fairly clear even from the outset what her role will be. Eventually, in the darkest moments, Getafix teaches Pectin the secret recipe - including Getafix’s secret ingredient - in order to save the village. She assures Getafix later that she will try to forget the recipe, so that she won’t accidentally reveal it to the wrong sort, but just as the credits roll, Getafix muses what we’re all thinking - that this girl might be worthy to be his successor. Pectin’s important because of the series’ ... shaky history with feminism. The film sets out that only men can become druids, and women are even forbidden from the woods where they meet. When taking Getafix to the meet, Pectin has to wear a hood and hike her dress up to look more like a boy appropriately. To allow Pectin to become a druid would defy ... well, some lofty ideal that only men can become druids. Like so many old sexist tropes, the reason has become ‘... well, they just don’t’. So it’s good that this is addressing that, as well as forcing more female characters into the limelight. The most prominent female character in all of Asterix is Impedimenta, followed maybe by the heartthrob and Obelix’s crush Panacea. I’ve elaborated above the problems there. In Asterix classic, women are to be desired or to be overbearing wives to henpecked husbands. It’s likely that Goscinny and Uderzo meant no malice by this writing; they were two French men writing a humour comic, and played on the popular tropes accordingly. But they (or rather, Uderzo) did attempt to tackle feminism in this comic before. It was ... well, it was a bit clunky.

Asterix and the Secret Weapon (1991) was a rather dated and fearmonger-y take on feminism, having a feminist activist outsider called Bravura comes to the village, encourages the women to rise up against their husbands (the men, out of chivalry and hen-peckedness, do not resist), seizing control of the village. Asterix, being both a bachelor and bit of a firebrand at perceived injustice, confronts Bravura, whereupon she flirts with him to try and seduce him into marrying her, whereupon he (shock horror) strikes her out of reflex. But Gaulish men do not hit women! Asterix is banished to the nearby forest for his insolence, eventually joined by the other men, fed up with the overbearing women. When the Romans (knowing that Gaulish men will not attack a women) send a detachment of female soldiers to the village, the women have turned it into a primitive shopping centre, where the female soldiers can shop and get their hair and make up done and forget all about attacking the village. Yeah. Feminists are salacious witches who would enthrall men and subjugate them, women love nothing more than shopping and beauty, it’s ... it’s bad. Secrot of the Magic Potion at least attempts to fix this by questioning male dominance in a role without being so weird about it, and having the women be just as much proud, organised village defenders as the men, arguably more so, given they lacked the weapons or numbers they normally had with the men around. (I know that the most recent album, Asterix and the Chieftain’s Daughter (2019), kinda deals with this too, but I haven’t yet read that one)

Putting aside the feminist rant, the key theme of this film seems to be the passing of the torch, clinging to past glory, and stepping up to take responsibility. Getafix isn’t getting any younger, and as much as might hurt his pride, he needs to train someone to take his place. The other elder druids, it transpires, are foolish, complacent and irresponsible, getting too used to just messing around and partying. They’re getting senile too, shamefully admitting to keeping crib sheets to remember which apprentice druids are any good. Druids not writing things down seems to be a metaphor for old masters, well versed in their craft, who know it all so well that they don’t need notes ... and then struggle to teach others, so they keep doing it all themselves. Sulfurix is bitter that, despite his magic fire being useful, Getafix is held up as the better druid. Way back when, they were finallists in a druidcraft competition, and being able to conjure flame from nothing is certainly a useful talent that won out over Getafix’s useless but dramatic and very complex magic. Getafix is implied never to have held a grudge over this, especially given that he would eventually develop the magic potion that makes his people so formidable. Sulfurix, meanwhile, found his ‘useful’ parlour trick get weaker and less reliable over time, and he seems to have very few tricks under his belt by the present, so fixated was he on this one thing. His Villain Rant at Getafix at the end is pure projection - he’s become irrelevant, because his one thing became all he was known for. Finally, with Cacofonix being acting Chief, the women defending the village, and Cholerix (Teleferix) the apprentice druid and later Pectin striving to create the magic potion and fill Getafix’s footsteps, there is a theme of people, even wildly unprepared people, stepping up to take responsibility because it’s what needs to be done, be it for the sake of a legacy or simply because this operation won’t run itself. Such a theme rings loud in, I remind you, the first original Asterix story on film since the death or retirement of both of the original creators. They’re on their own now, with a great and beloved legacy to continue, and I think they’ve done a wonderful job. The film was not perfect by any means - the English dub lip-flaps weren’t that well aligned (my DVD didn’t have French language options), the story’s quite formulaic if you’re a fan of the series, and Sulfurix is ... not subtle as the villain - but if you like Asterix, you’ll like this. And if you don’t care for Asterix, it’s still enjoyable.

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Part 14 of The Sam Diaries

Summary: Meet Sam, a sweet confused unfit demisexual, as he encounters his celebrity crush Andrew Minyard time and time again despite, or perhaps because of the fact that he doesn’t actually like Exy all that much. (That or because his girlfriend owns the ice-cream place Andrew’s obsessed with. One or the other.)

Chapter summary: Sam deals with the aftermath of a stabbing, again

Read on Ao3:http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836/chapters/29693454

They got off the plane and took a taxi back to their apartment. The cats weren’t being dropped off until tomorrow, and their next game wasn’t for three days. They’d have to get up early for practice, but they could sleep for now.

Two steps in the door, Neil got a phone-call.

Just under ten minutes later, a taxi comes to pick Neil up and take him back to the airport. Andrew can still feel the ghost of Neil’s distracted goodbye kiss on his right cheek. He thinks maybe Neil was aiming for his lips and missed, and can’t stop the irrational thought that wonders whether he’ll ever get an answer.

He blames it on how exhausted his body is versus how keyed up his head is whirring and doesn’t continue with his original plan to sleep off the jetlag. It doesn’t seem half so appealing without Neil in the bed with him. Instead he picks up the envelope they forgot to post on their way out of the door (just because Andrew never forgets anything doesn’t mean the right memory is always triggered at the right time, especially as he’s so easily distracted these days by smiling lips and healing scars) to go to Germany and decides he might as well deliver it himself. He checks the time, not unreasonable, and knows through Neil and Eunoia’s texts that Sam is alone in his and Eunoia’s apartment, Eunoia having left for her Hen-Party-Weekend-Thing that she’d half-tried to invite Neil to. Neil had declined on the fact that they’d still be in Germany when she left, and also that Neil didn’t know any of Eunoia’s friends apart from Rosa and it was hardly like they were friends.

Sam is quiet, shy and kind, which means Andrew might get a free beer for his troubles, but none of the usually synonymous chatter. He surprises himself with how much he tolerates Sam. It’s not the same as the others, those who if he had no other choice he might reluctantly label family, even if his definition doesn’t include all the same people as Neil’s. His family grew on him like lichen; he can now understand, even defend if he feels like it, their notable qualities, but he would not like any of them had he not gone through such a journey with them, except for maybe Neil, Bee and Renee. Sam though, Sam, Andrew thinks he might have allowed to sit at his lunch-table if they were back in high school.

Andrew shakes off his thoughts once again and locks up the apartment behind him. He knows Neil won’t text him until he touches down safely off the plane, so he leaves his phone inside, going out with just his wallet, a packet of cigarettes but no lighter, only a couple of knives, the worn fraying coat Nicky had bought him for Christmas while he was in Easthaven and the envelope that holds their affirmative reply to Sam and Eunoia’s wedding.

There have been very few times in Andrew and Neil’s… Nothing that Neil has responded to ‘yes or no?’ with no. So few, in fact, that Andrew can count them on one hand. It’s a point of pride for him, even as he found himself glad that Neil saying no to something proved he was capable of saying no to anything he didn’t want. It made Andrew trust his ‘yes’s even more.

The last time Neil had said no to something had been his lonely fifth year at Palmetto, and it’s been a good while since then. Andrew’s fairly certain he’s mapped and scouted all of Neil’s boundaries now, learnt his nuances enough that he knows what is a boundary one day, might not be one the next. He’ll never stop asking if he’s even slightly unsure of course, but he thinks he pretty much has it down. He wonders if the idea of knowing Neil so completely would’ve scared him off from pursuing the relationship (Oh, Bee will be proud. Look at you naming it) in the first place.

He doubts it. There were few things that would’ve made Neil not worth pursuing.

Neil flops on the sofa next to him, jarring Andrew’s arm to the point where he almost drops the spoon holding his latest scoop of Eunoia’s latest ice cream (who is he kidding, he’d never let the ice cream fall to the floor), and Andrew stubbornly finishes the spoonful before looking at him. Neil is staring with that stupid fond look again, but luckily the junkie speaks before Andrew forcibly shoves him off the sofa. He holds up a white card for Andrew to see.

“It’s Eunoia and Sam’s official wedding invitation. Apparently we were the only people apart from his crazy recluse great-aunt that they actually sent a paper invitation to.”

“I’m still not letting you get Facebook.” Neil pouts but resigns himself to a social-media-devoid fate (apart from Twitter but thankfully he hasn’t realised you can make your own account on there without paying yet), something Andrew is sure is the only reason Neil’s PR team send Andrew Christmas presents. Though, he might not get one this year considering they still haven’t sorted out the whole photo shenanigans. He’s got to get through Halloween with Nicky and Erik before he starts worrying about Christmas, however. Neil swings his legs onto Andrew’s lap as he leans his head back on the armrest and closes his eyes, apparently content to lay there in silence while Andrew eats ice cream.

Neil has always been content and comfortable with Andrew’s silences, but it’s rare that he initiates them. Maybe it’s because of that, that Andrew looks mournfully at the slowly liquidising ice cream and then turns his attention to Neil’s feet. Andrew’s never given a foot rub, but he figures Neil’s never received one so he probably won’t complain.

“Foot rub, yes or no?” He asks, bored, hands already hovering over Neil’s feet, content in the knowledge that he’ll receive the affirmative. Instead there’s no response.

He flicks a confused look to Neil, wondering if the idiot had actually managed to fall asleep in five seconds flat, to find him glaring at something in the middle distance, a dark, hateful expression on his face. He appears to be struggling with the decision and then sighs harshly, disappointment covering his features.

“No.” Instantly, Andrew’s hands are back on the sofa cushions, Andrew’s mind whirling about whether he should shove Neil’s legs off of him or whether that would make it worse. Neil solves the decision for him by tucking his legs towards his chest, curling up at the other end of the sofa but keeping his eyes on Andrew’s. Andrew tries to remember other times that he’s touched Neil’s feet; in passing sure, those feet clenched over his calves, or twining with his under the covers, but draws up a cautious blank on times he’s purposefully sought out his feet. Apparently, Neil can still surprise him.

Neil runs a weary hand through his own hair as his other arm hugs his knees. “Neil?” Andrew asks, cautious. In response, Neil tugs off one of his socks, and presents the sole of his foot to Andrew. On this foot, Andrew knows already, there is a thin scar on the top of his foot that is mirrored by a slightly thicker scar on the sole.

“Have I ever told you the story behind this scar?” Like Andrew’s own trauma, Neil still remembers in startling detail receiving each of the numerous scars that mark his body. Their truth game had been ongoing, though it wasn’t as regimented; neither could remember whose turn it was anymore. Neil’s scars, in particular, had always been grounding to Andrew; no-one else felt or looked like Neil. When Andrew was having a day that was bad enough that not only could he not let Neil touch him, the idea of any bare skin contact, even if he was the one doing the touching, was repulsive, Neil would offer him the story behind one of his scars, in order to keep him grounded. Over the years, they’d worked down most of Neil’s torso and back, but they hadn’t yet got down to his feet. Andrew had assumed it was an unlucky knife throw at some point during his time on the run, but apparently this scar had more background.

“Do you want to tell me?” Andrew offers back, giving Neil a way out and an assurance that Andrew won’t be upset by it. It’s a given at this point, but it never hurts to reiterate. Neil looks away as he considers his options, and tugs the sock back onto his foot. Andrew thinks that’s it, when Neil starts speaking.

“I’ve been declared medically dead three times.” Andrew hears the words hit him and recoils, a full body flinch at the idea of Neil, at any point in his life, being a corpse. Neil, who was scarred and traumatised and only half a person at the worst points in his life, had never broken. Not in Andrew’s eyes. But Neil dead? Neil, still and motionless and cold; that was for Andrew’s nightmares only. Not real life.

Neil takes a breath, lets it out, speaks again. “The first time I don’t really remember. It didn’t leave a scar anyway.” Andrew notes that non-story in the back of his head for later. Neil hooks a hand in his t-shirt collar and pulls it down so that he can tap at the bullet wound underneath his collarbone. “That one was blood loss. Mum said it was the only time she considered taking me to the hospital.” Considered? Considered? Mary Wesninski- Hatford- whatever, considered taking her dying son to the hospital? How very kind of her. “I was lucky, one of her contacts was close by and my heart had only been out a couple of minutes by the time they managed to start the transfusion and get it restarted.” Neil chewed on his lip for a second. “She went back for the last stash we’d left to pay for a bulletproof vest and all of the contact’s work. Possibly the first reckless thing she’d done since we first ran.”

“Did she apologise?” At Neil’s questioning look, Andrew elaborates. “For putting you in a situation where you got shot.”

“Are you kidding? As soon as I could get out of bed she beat me to shit for being such an idiot.” Andrew stiffens to stone at the easy acknowledgement of Mary’s abuse. Neil shifts in his seat and then clears his throat. Andrew’s eyes snap back to him even though none of the tension leaves his spine. “Anyway, the final time was when I got that scar.” Neil’s hands shake slightly from where they’re now resting in his lap. Andrew scoots closer but doesn’t touch.

“Neil, yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil agrees and Andrew places his hand on the back of Neil’s neck. Neil lets out a long breath but keeps his head down. “I was Stefan then. Some of my father’s people caught up to us, he’d even sent Lola that time. Mum had planned our escape route if we couldn’t get back to a car; there was a river that ran through the forest by the edge of town and into a network of water tunnels. They would have to scout out all of them, which would mean spreading their man power to the point that Mum could probably take down whoever would be waiting at the end of whichever tunnel we picked. It wasn’t her best plan; it was why we stuck to big cities after that.” Neil nudges forward until his forehead is resting on Andrew’s shoulder. It’s unlike Neil to need to hide his face; it’s disconcerting. Andrew’s still not sure where this story is going.

There’s no one in the streets. No one, which means Lola has either killed them all or bribed them off. Stefan doesn’t know which is worse. His mother’s grasp on his wrist hasn’t faltered even though Lola’s high-pitched mocking laughter is chasing them down every alleyway. He tries to remember a time when his feet were soft enough that sneaking around barefoot like this on the rough streets would’ve hurt. He can’t. Their only chance now is stealth, which is why his mother’s gun is in her waistband not her hand, but also why the knife replacing it is covered in red.

They reach the edge of the town and still, looking towards the forest. It’s about a field length away, but it’s a field length with no cover. It’s a bright night, no light pollution in these tiny villages, and their choice is simple. Run, and risk being seen, or crawl, and risk being overtaken. If his mother was on his own, Stefan knew she’d take the latter option.

Then again, if she was on her own, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Stefan’s fast. He’s always been fast. He can do this.

He raises his eyes to meet his mother’s and sees that she’s come to the same conclusion. She lets go of his wrist.

“Run.”

“The problem was that Lola has the best aim of anybody I’ve ever met.” Neil says hollowly. He’s dragged his gaze up to meet Andrew’s, which is an improvement, but his eyes are lost to memories, which is not. “She shot my mother. It got her in the shoulder, not the heart, but considering Lola was making an almost blind shot from a field length away…” Some of the pieces are coming together in Andrew’s head.

“You tried to go back for her, didn’t you?” Neil winces, and Andrew closes his eyes in a brief plea for patience. “Good to know you’ve always been an unwanted martyr.”

“Lola had time to catch up and one of her throwing knives went through my foot, hard enough that it went into the grass underneath.” Neil shudders.

There’s panic making him clumsy as Stefan tears the knife out of his foot. The pain he ignores with practice, he’s had worse. But if he can’t run… If he can’t run-

He palms the knife in his hand as he flips over to see Lola advancing on him. “Poor little Junior. Mommy’s shot but don’t worry, Daddy’s missing you an awful lot.” Lola’s so wrapped up in her own excitement that she doesn’t dive out of the way of his mother’s bullet. It punches her solidly in the stomach. Stefan’s on his feet and running before she’s even hit the floor.

He doesn’t know where his mother is but he can hardly put weight on his foot; there’s something wrong with the bones and each step almost causes him to black out. He’s moving as fast as he can through the trees as he hears the crashing and shouting of the rest of his father’s men tear after them but he has to put Lola’s knife to good use before he makes it to the river, burying it in the thigh of the first person who tries to drag him away. His duffel bag isn’t waterproof, but considering this was their escape plan he’s had everything inside wrapped in plastic since they arrived.

His mother is waiting on the bank and she shoves him into the water without ceremony. “Swim Stefan! Swim!” There’s gunfire, too much for it to all be from his mother but his luck seems to have finally caught up with him because they make it into the water tunnels before he blacks out.

His mother grabs him by the wrist again to drag him through whatever plan she’d set up beforehand. He kicks in the water to help her along obediently but it’s only the cold of the water that’s keeping him conscious. At least with his extremities going numb he can’t feel his foot anymore.

A slap sends him reeling back to alertness before he even realised he’d just been floating through the water. “If you cannot run I will leave you behind.” His mother hisses in his ear. “Do you understand me?”

Stefan is more scared than he’s ever been in his life. Not once has his mother ever threatened to leave him before. He wouldn’t survive two minutes without her and she knows that. He has to be able to run. He has to.

“Did you get an infection from the water or something?” Andrew prods gently, when Neil’s clearly about to start hyperventilating if he thinks about not being able to run any longer.

“What?” Neil asks, bleary from fighting to stay in the present.

“You said you died three times.”

“Oh.” Neil paused. “No. One of my father’s men was waiting at the end of our tunnel, but we didn’t see him until we’d already come out of the water. Mum made us stay in the tunnels for three days in the hopes they’d give up. He had a Taser and, well, water and electricity doesn’t mix.” Andrew doesn’t know quite what to say to that. “Mum killed him and then gave me CPR. I was so sure she’d leave me behind but luckily we managed to hotwire a car just after we’d got out of the river so I had long enough to stitch up my foot. Not much I could do about the bone splintering but it healed eventually so.”

“Let me guess; you used whisky as an anaesthetic.” Andrew says sardonically, to give himself time to recover from the latest horror story of Neil’s past. Neil gives him an odd look.

“Of course not. We couldn’t stop anywhere to buy anything that close after being found.”

“You stitched up your own knife wound, after having no food for three days and having recently returned from the dead, with no painkillers at all?” Neil frowns.

“You make it sound worse than it was.” Andrew looks at him. “No, you’re right it was awful.” Neil lets out a sigh again and some of his tension eases, more light coming back into his eyes. Andrew decides, for his own sake, not to ask what Neil had stitched up his foot with. “I’m never going to run from you.” Andrew startles at this admission, not following the jump in conversation. A tiny smile threatens to curve Neil’s mouth but it drops pretty quickly. “Sometimes I want to run away. But never from you. I need to be able to run though.” He chews his lip. “I don’t like having my feet restrained.”

“I won’t ask again.” Andrew replies, his voice low. Neil frowns, shakes his head.

“Not today. Maybe not for a while. But I want- I want to work on this.”

“You just want a foot rub.” Andrew scoffs and thankfully Neil smiles again. And goddamn Josten because it’s only been two minutes but Andrew can only relax at the sight of that smile.

“We are going to the wedding right?” Neil asks, eventually, when the two of them have looked their fill (for the moment at least).

“Can’t be worse than going to Nicky’s.” Andrew points out and Neil agrees with a huff, even though neither of them had hated attending that at all.

“Did I tell you that Thea called me to thank us for making friends with people who don’t play Exy? Apparently Kevin is still using me and you as role models, and now he’ll occasionally offer a greeting to the other people at the dog park.” Kevin had rang Andrew and mentioned that himself, but Andrew doesn’t admit that. It’s not like him and Kevin are friends.

Probably.

Oh who fucking knows anymore? It’s not like Andrew would know what to do with a friend if he had one so he might as well label the rest of his relationships with the people he doesn’t actively despise as ‘friends’. Not that he’ll ever tell Matt that. It would probably send the tall backliner into premature cardiac arrest.

Wait a second…

The first knife, Andrew blocks for Aaron. He doesn’t dwell on it much anymore, possibly because he’s in a lot less fights these days, but when all rational thought leaves his head to allow instinctive defence in to avoid the knife to the thigh, his driving thought is that he has to defend himself because who else is going to protect Aaron?

The avoidance of that knife is clearly what the knife-wielder wanted though because the duck away pushes him right into the path of an oncoming fist and- multiple attackers goddamnit Minyard Neil would’ve spotted them a mile out- it’s a hard enough blow to put stars in his eyes and he thinks he bites his tongue. It’s not hard enough to stop him from whipping his own knives out but that’s all the time he has for offensive before he’s dodging another knife, this time from the second attacker, who’s aiming to kill not injure, and Neil’s already on his mind and he knows he’s got to get out of this alive because he’s not sure even the other Foxes would be able to stop Neil from turning into the monster he still has nightmares about to get revenge.

Renee’s phantom hands are on his elbows, gentle touches correcting his stance as he makes a stab of his own, which lands, but not where he’d aimed, going into the first person’s armpit instead of between his third and fourth ribs, as the man manages to almost vault backwards out of Andrew’s way. Whoever these people are, it’s not some drunken mad fans of one of the opponents to Andrew and Neil’s team, or even some of Neil’s father’s people. They are trained killers, and not in the flashy way of the Wesninski circle. They’re not toying with him.

He’s not sure if this is a fight he can win.

The all-too-easy-to-conjure image of Nicky’s devastated face inspires him to dodge the next two blows, how he’s still the first person Kevin calls when he’s having a panic attack the one after that, the way Wymack had gripped his shoulder and said “I’m proud of you” not when he’d got signed onto a pro-team but at his graduation that he knew both of them were a little surprised he’d survived until brings him to a total of five near-misses, and the way Bee had torn up when he’d bought her mother’s day presents for the first time get him through the next three but then his luck runs out, and while he manages to cut into the second guy’s thigh deep enough that he’ll bleed out within minutes, it gives the first guy the chance to slide a knife, smooth as if into butter, into Andrew’s back, and presumably through his kidney if the agony it causes is any indication.

Andrew has a high pain tolerance, too high, but he’s still not Neil. The knife tears its way back out again and Andrew is letting loose a hoarse scream of pain before he can stop himself. He’s run out of people to get up for. The first man kicks him in his weak- it’s not a weak knee Andrew. You had a few ops on it because of the asshole that fouled on you but it’s not a weakness- no matter what Neil says Andrew knows he goes down easier if that knee is targeted nowadays- and Andrew’s on the ground in, he notices bemusedly, the alleyway he’d first threatened Sam in.

Sorry Neil.

Anders and Winter are arriving tomorrow. Anders’ parents’ apartment, now his and Eunoia’s (if he doesn’t think about it too much it’s not weird and just a good deal despite the fact it took them three months to completely air out the apartment from all the spices Anders’ parents burnt in there for ‘spiritual alignment’) is going to house all of Sam’s friends for the next week and a half, which is good because he knows he’d spend the whole time moping if his friends weren’t coming. Eunoia’s been gone less than 24 hours and Sam already misses her. He thinks it’s probably because he knows he won’t be seeing her for almost two weeks now. Stupid traditions. Especially because it also means he can’t go Eunoia’s ice-cream store for two weeks either and risk bumping into her, and moping’s no fun when you can’t wallow in ice-cream.

Goodness he’s being pathetic.

He laughs a little, thinking of the unimpressed look that would be on Andrew’s face if he ever relayed this internal monologue to the goalkeeper. At least he’d be silently judgemental; Yasmin would probably tear him a new one. Despite having met them all before, Eunoia still hasn’t experienced the wackiness that is Yasmin not-sober and Sam’s excited for her to meet intoxicated Yasmin almost as much as he was for her to meet sober Yasmin. He hasn’t actually met up with Yasmin since she came up for his pity-party after he lost his job and laughed at him for temporarily working at Starbucks; she doesn’t exactly get a lot of time off from work. He doesn’t think she really believes that he’s friends with Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten, or that they’re dating (Sam please, two traumatised short guys falling for each other when they could have banged Kevin Day? Not likely) and definitely not that they’ll be at his wedding (Me being there is already a PR nightmare, how many paparazzi do you want at this bop?) and he’s looking forward to her reaction.

If he’s honest though, he’s slightly more worried about how pissed Anders is that Sam proposed to Eunoia (Winter and I have been dating longer and I haven’t popped the question yet why’d have to put so much pressure on everything Sam goddamn you’re supposed to be too shy to one-up me like this) and if he continues whining about it for much longer Sam might just reveal that Winter’s planning on proposing to him straight after Sam’s wedding. Except he wouldn’t because it’s not Winter’s fault her boyfriend is an idiot. An idiot Sam would dive in front of an oncoming train for but an idiot nonetheless.

Sam sighs and turns off the TV, not even sure what he was pretending to watch, and shrugs on a coat, hat and gloves instead. A walk might just clear his head.

The man swears in Japanese as he swings a leg over Andrew’s hips and straddles him from behind, grabbing a fistful of Andrew’s hair to pull his face far enough off the ground that he can draw a knife across his throat. Andrew doesn’t know if it’s the sickeningly familiar weight across his back or what Bee and Neil would call progress with quiet proud smiles, but Andrew doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to die, not because it would leave Aaron without a protector, or Kevin without a support system or make Wymack cry or cause Renee’s eyes to go dark or devastate Nicky or destroy Bee. Not even because it might just kill Neil Josten along with him. Andrew doesn’t want to die because he wants to live. For him. For Andrew Joseph Minyard, for all the messed up shit he’s had to go through and everything he’s survived and fucking earnt. He deserves to live; he deserves to want his life playing stickball and his nice apartment and his cats and his beautiful man.

He wants to walk away from this, to get to the hospital and have to deal with his whole convoluted family and probably most of Neil’s too, and possibly have to talk Neil out of starting another mob war or at least persuade him to only start it with his help, and be laid off Exy for a few nice long months where it’ll just be him and the cats and he can finally finish that book he’s been writing about the failures of the justice system while watching his junkie run round on the TV screen. He wants.

Andrew’s strong hands grasp the man’s neck and twist killing him instantly.

Then he blacks out.

Sam locks up his apartment with considerable effort; carrying a sketchbook and his drawing pencils with him is not conducive to locking a door. He’s struck with the sudden urge to briefly sketch the door-handle, thinking about how many memories must be attached to it. He thinks about Eunoia swinging him round in a circle when the papers had gone through for this place and catching one of his jean legs on the door-handle, ripping a hole through them. He thinks about leaning his head on the door for a moment after Eunoia had already gone inside, sorting through his thoughts after Neil and Andrew had dropped their ‘Eunoia’s parents were murdered’ bombshell. He thinks about Eunoia coming to find him on the doorstep, only just managing to make it home after a panic attack at his work Christmas party, and her coaxing him through the door with soft words and softer kisses.

When he blinks back into the present, he’s drawn the door-handle, a section of jean with a hole through, a flat line with the top of his head pressed against it and a pair of lips he’d know blind around it. He smiles, closes the sketchbook and heads down the stairs, humming a little. He still needs the walk to get out of his funk for the night, but maybe not quite so desperately as before.

The first block passes without incident, but as he gets closer to the park, the hair on the back of his neck begins to stand up on end. He wraps his coat closer around himself and pulls his hat down so it’s covering his ears properly. As is his habit, he glances into the alleyway Andrew had held him against the wall in, and stops dead.

There’s two bodies on the ground.

Sam knows that people often crash in this alleyway on their way back from the pub across the park; it’s a popular destination with the homeless due to how high the rooves of the neighbouring houses reach; providing much needed shelter. Sam’s delivered food from a soup kitchen here once.

Then he sees the shock of white blond hair almost completely hidden under one of the men’s bodies, and how unnaturally still they both look.

He thinks Andrew and runs.

“What the fuck is with you people?!” Andrew comes round somewhat blearily to Sam Goldsmith pressing his coat into Andrew’s wound. In Andrew’s eye-line is Sam’s phone, which is still lit up with the end-call screen of his call to 911. “This is a nice neighbourhood! Why do you keep getting stabbed!” Sam takes a deep breath. Andrew wonders if he knows he’s talking aloud. “Well done Samuel just blame the guy who’s been stabbed in the gut you’re lucky he’s still unconscious or he’d probably be snapping your neck too. Even so, it’s getting to the point where the police are probably going to think I’m involved in some way. This is ridiculous. There hadn’t been a single stabbing in ten years before you two moved here!” Andrew can hear sirens. “Oh thank God. Still means I’m stuck with the telling Neil duty. I can’t tell which of them is scarier.” Andrew blacks out again after seeing the ambulance stop and a paramedic jump out of the vehicle, realising absently that Sam must have somehow managed to get the body of the other man off him, despite the fact that it was 100% dead 6’5 weight and Sam’s not exactly… Athletic.

Sam finds himself being interviewed by the police for the second time in a year, and isn’t exactly surprised when they insist there’s going to be further questions. At least he can call Neil from his own phone this time. Neil doesn’t pick up, and Sam wonders where he is as the ringing goes straight to voicemail. He doesn’t leave a message, not trusting his voice right now, and texts Neil instead. He texts Eunoia next and is unsurprised to not get a response from her either; at this point in the evening of her hen party he’ll be surprised if she’s even conscious.

Sam sits in the waiting-room, a friend’s life out of his hands, alone, again.

[phynxrizng]

FAERY LORE

Faery Lore Lore / Faery Types / Elemental Faeries / Attract Faeries / Faery Garden / Garden Dedication

 Lore Beltane is the time when nature comes alive and the Spirits of Nature are most active. It is the time when faeries are most likely to be seen. Faery folk, or the fae, are an ancient race of people who lived in the British Isles long before the Celts or the Anglo-Saxons arrived. They are believed to have descended from the Tuatha De Danann (the tribe of the goddess Dana), a magickal race who flew into Ireland in ships descending from the clouds on Beltane. They came from the four great magickal cities -- Falias, Gorias, Finias and Murias -- and brought with them the four great treasures; the Lia Fail (Stone of Destiny), the sword of Lugh, a magic spear, and the cauldron of the Dagda.

It was from these cities that the Tuatha De Dananns learned all their knowledge, skills and magick. Indeed the De Dananns were said to be unmatched in their knowledge and beauty. From them, comes the vast majority of Gods and Goddesses of the Irish Pantheon.

The enchanted dimension of Faery has existed side by side with our human one for thousands of years. It is said that there was once a time when the human and Faery worlds were one. But legend tells that our human ancestors became trapped in the physical world. They became less and less aware of what was hidden just beyond their physical sight, and the vision of the Faery became lost to them.

Types of Faeries Types of Faeries

where to find them

what they do

Faeries, Elves

Forests, faery hill and rings, fields and wild places, flower gardens

Dance and play. Know the magickal secrets of herbs, stones, and animals. See the future.

Gnomes, Trolls, Dwarves

Caves and mines, under bridges, hollow hills

Know the location of precious gems and metals, and how to forge and form them.

Brownies, Kobolds

Homes and cottages

Help and protect the family. Do chores by night.

This chart is from Ancient Ways by Pauline Campanelli and is not a comprehensive listing.

Elemental Faeries The idea of calling the elements into our circles is a carry over from the days when the faeries were asked to participate in our magick. But elemental faeries are not merely the four alchemical elements of earth, air, fire, and water. We do them and ourselves a great disservice when we merely call them to witness our circles. These faeries have personality and individuality. They are fully sentient beings with feelings and rights. Think of that the next time you call them to your circle. It will greatly enhance your experience. Elemental faeries can, and often will, aid human work, ritual, and magick if approached properly.



The artwork to the left is "The Pathseekerr" by Renee Yates

Faery

Direction, Element

What they do

Gnomes North, Earth Givers of material gain and stability. The rulers of the forest. Protectors of outdoor circles and groves. Seen as "Little People" or green light. Sylphs East, Air Givers of wishes, knowledge and dreams. Delicate beings with beautiful wings. Protectors of magickal applications. Seen as "faeries" or white light. Salamanders South, Fire Givers of passion and creativity. The rulers of fields and fire. Protectors hearth, home, or business. Seen as dragons, lizards, or blue flames. Undines West, Water Givers of love and friendship. The rulers of all water. Protectors of the gates of death and karma. Seen as merpeople, sirens or bright pink lights. Attracting Faeries

Beltane and Midsummer are two particularly good times to contact the Faery world. The Faery spirit is the great force of energy moving through all things, empowering our magick.

The fae are shy creatures, made so by years of mistreatment and misunderstanding by humans. They are jealous of the physical world which contain the living, breathing, trees and plant life they so love and have so carefully reproduced in their own world. Our callous treatment of nature infuriates them.

You must work first to win their trust. Plant a faery garden as a refuge for the little folk. Leave a corner of it wild and uncultivated. Leaving out gifts of food and treasures for them is a good first step. They love ground ginger, barley, sweets, cream, and anything that glitters. Also clean water, butter, wine, honey, and bread. Never toss out faery libations like you would food for wild animals. They consider this very disrespectful. Make up a little basket of your offerings and leave them on your step, in your garden, or under a tree. Favorite faery stones are tiger's eye, peridot, jade, lava, fluorite, and especially emerald. Don't expect these gifts to disappear, as faeries are able to extract the spiritual essence of our physical gifts to them (so be sure to leave them in love and with deep respect.) You will, however, have to replace these gifts often in order to keep the faery folk hanging around.

The Faery Garden Whatever you do to bring life to your garden will bring faeries as well. First of all, plant plants that attract bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds. This will also attract the fae. So put up hummingbird feeders, bird feeders, bird baths, bird houses, even bat houses. Small fountains, ponds, faery statues, or waterfalls are all good.



Here's a short list of plants that attract faeries to your garden:

Common yarrow, Achillea millefolium New York aster, Aster novi-belgii Shasta daisy, Chrysanthemum maximum Western giant hyssop or horsemint, Agastache occidentalis French lavender, Lavendula dentata Rosemary, Rosemarinus officinalis Thyme, Thymus Fountain butterfly bush, Buddleia alternifolia Orange-eye butterfly bush, summer lilac, Buddleia davidii Shrubby cinquefoil, Potentilla fruitiosa Common garden petunia, Petunia hybrida Verbenas, vervains, Verbena Pincushion flowers, Scabiosa caucasica Cosmos, Cosmos bipinnatus Common zinnia, Zinnia elegans

They also love the following plants and trees:

foxglove, primrose, ragwort, cowslips, pansies, bluebells, clover (3-leaf, not 4-leaf), St. John's wort, hazel, rowan, blackthorn, oak, willow, elder, birch, alder, apple, ash, and especially toadstools.

Dedicating the Faery Garden Once the garden is started, you might want to ritually dedicate it as a Faery garden sanctuary. Begin by walking the around the garden with an athame pointed at its boundaries (much like casting a circle). Then sprinkle the perimeter of the garden with a branch of fir dipped in salted spring water. Finally, walk the boundaries of the garden with a lighted incense stick. (It can be left to burn in the ground when you finish.) Then with a wand of hazel, slowly walk around the garden greeting each plant with words like:

Spirits of the (insert plant name), I welcome your presence in the garden.

Feel your love flow from your heart, down your wand, and out the end of the wand. Be sure to welcome all plants, stones, and trees. (Nature spirits are easily offended.) Conclude your ritual with these words:

In the name of the Goddess and the God, I declare this garden a sanctuary For the spirits of nature And the children of the Gods.

When you are finished, leave a gift -- cookies, soda, ale, cream, or bright, shiny things like rings, beads, or stones. from Ancient Ways by Campanelli

Visit the Faery Garden, a delightful site dedicated to the faeries.

Source , earthwitchery.com

Reposted by, PHYNXRIZNG