#and i know after joel dies she will become a much more violent person in trying to “avenge his death” but like.

[basiltonpitch]

god this episode proves what i said in the tags of this post last week. ellie does not actually enjoy being violent she doesn't enjoy killing and when she is faced with having to shoot someone she does not aim to kill. yes she paralyzes him yes he ends up dead anyways but the point is. she panicked. she hesitated. she didn't put a bullet in that man's brain even though she could have. she isn't inherently violent.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch. 

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes. 

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had. 

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair? 

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it. 

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around. 

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug. 

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye. 

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over. 

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries. 

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion. 

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.” 

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.” 

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?” 

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.” 

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.” 

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago. 

*

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy. 

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.” 

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?” 

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.” 

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others? 

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.” 

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple. 

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.” 

“I’m guessin’ she knows?” 

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.” 

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.” 

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.”  Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you. 

*

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing. 

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?” 

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice. 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?” 

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?” 

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.” 

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard. 

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling. 

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.” 

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.” 

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun. 

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.” 

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.” 

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss. 

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.” 

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given. 

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.” 

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.” 

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town. 

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same. 

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.” 

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.” 

“Were you together long?” 

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.” 

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question. 

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.” 

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.” 

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?” 

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.” 

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs. 

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.” 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for. 

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.” 

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him. 

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.” 

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say. 

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments. 

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.” 

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.” 

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[emmettspeakz]

The Last of Us Part 2 Deep Analysis

(I am all over the place with this and it probably makes no sense and also I'm sure all of this has been said by someone smarter and more articulate than me but I needed somewhere to get my thoughts out so here this mess is)

Been listening to emo songs lately and thinking about Last of Us Part 2, specifically Ellie and Joel's relationship after he dies. That sounds weird right? How can they have a relationship if one of them is dead?

Well Ellie still has a relationship with Joel, he's just no longer there. While listening to My Immortal specifically, I kept getting some of the song lyrics stuck in my head like "though you're still with me, I've been alone all along" Ellie came into Joel's life alone, being a kid, unable to survive until he taught her how, but she still survived without him like when she was with Riley and now, having lived in a community, it's almost as if she has let her guard down around Joel too much, and it's left her vulnerable to this kind of pain again, like what she experienced with losing Riley.

And then there's the revenge aspect. Tommy and her have a talk after Joel dies, and she is determined to go after them, but also it sounds like she's sure Joel would want to go on a revenge plot if Tommy or Ellie died. And like I'm sure he would want to, but Joel is an old man in Last of Us Part 1 and Part 2 he's even older. Would he actually be able to go after them at his age and come back alive? Maybe. But also, Ellie convinces herself that Joel would avenge Ellie or Tommy if they died, especially without any help. And I think she doesn't actually know what he would do anymore. She hasn't forgiven him since he saved her all those years ago and they don't have much of relationship these days like they did back then because of what Joel did. And Joel has let his guard down too over the years, it's been years since he saved her from the Fireflies. He doesn't seem to be the man who killed all those Fireflies and saved Ellie anymore. Ellie ignores any morals because they struck first by killing Joel, so nothing else matters, right?

Except after Joel died, one person was killed to avenge all those he killed. That was supposed to be the Fireflies' "eye for an eye" and then no more violence. They even let Ellie and Tommy live! Which was a stupid mistake to make as it turns out, because Ellie and Tommy chose to go after them.

And with Tommy making Ellie go back into the revenge mindset after she finally got back and tries to live with Dina, (as she didn't end up killing Abby cuz Joel wouldn't have wanted that for her), I always think about and have been thinking about it more recently cuz the HBO show had Joel going "you're just a kid" after Ellie had to save him from someone trying to kill him by shooting and killing that person. Joel never wanted his adopted daughter to have to grow up in a world of violence and have to become violent herself, especially not to save her own life. He wanted to protect her from the dangers of the world, but also protect her from becoming like him. And his fears ended up coming true, because that's exactly what she did after he died. Her choosing to avenge him, was exactly what Joel did to protect her in the first game when he killed all the Fireflies trying to use her to make a cure (which i would argue is somewhat justified since we know from the show that a cure is impossible, but that's not the point).

Ellie keeps getting PTSD flashbacks of when Joel died, and it's clear it was truly traumatizing for her, but that makes it clear that she isn't doing the revenge for Joel anymore. Or she is but she isn't. She wants the flashbacks to stop, and she thinks the only way to get the scene of Joel's death out of her mind is to avenge his death. But actually, the way to make them go away, is both to forgive him for what he did for her (kill the fireflies and save her), to forgive him from dying almost, and also finally take the time to actually process her loss, which she hasn't fully done yet. She was all about revenge after he died, being so full of rage, that she hasn't actually gotten to sit down and actually process his death. So she does all three when she finally sits down with his guitar, but she can no longer play the song that he taught her to play because the revenge has cost her her two fingers. Her connection with Joel has been severed in a way, because she has done what he never wanted her to do, which was become like him.

[ghostlandtoo]

what a stupid fucking show. lol.

like, i won't argue that tlou ep3 was a well-written episode and etc and etc, but it's becoming blatantly obvious to me that the writers and druckmann are diverging heavily from joel and ellie's characterization in a way that feels really fucking bad.

in the first thirty minutes of the game, joel and tess kill 20 guys in the QZ out of revenge. in the first episode, robert and his gang is killed off screen, by fireflies, and the most violence is joel beating a FEDRA agent with the insinuation that it's a PTSD reaction. it feels like joel is being defanged, turning less violent so the audience feels more sympathetic to him. i'm waiting for the pittsburgh episode to see how they really write him, like maybe his capacity for violence is supposed to be heightened because of that stupid fucking letter from bill, but it's undercutting the natural progression of his character and his feelings towards ellie.

and christ, fucking ellie. it was EXTREMELY weird how fascinated she was by joel beating up that FEDRA agent. (in the game she's surprised when joel and tess kill the ones who caught them outside the QZ, saying "i thought we were just going to hold them up!") and when she finds the infected in the cellar, and cuts it just to see it bleed before she kills it, like she has a weird fascination with violence and gore, doesn't sit well. ellie is fascinated with the outside world and maybe she's a little naive, but she only resorted to violence when it was immediately necessary. as a contrast of joel being less clint eastwood, ellie is more morbid, which also fucking undercuts the moments she lashes out (in the pittsburgh hotel to save joel's life, against david, etc).

i'm happy that people liked bill and frank's relationship. the main loss in this episode are the funny ellie and bill quips, and the intense fight in the high school. but the difference between Game Bill telling joel:

Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time I had someone I cared about. It was a partner. Somebody I had to look after. And in this world that sort of shit's good for one thing: gettin' ya killed. So, you know what I did? I wisened the fuck up. And I realized it's gotta be just me.

and Show Bill leaving this message to joel:

i used to hate the world and i was happy when every one died. but i was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. that's what i did. i saved him. then i protected him. that’s why men like you and i are here. we have a job to do. and god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way.

it's such a weird way to foreshadow the end of the game and joel never needed any one to tell him what to do. he's adamant about never comparing ellie and sarah, because he never does. how joel feels towards ellie naturally progresses through the game, from being an obligation to the memory of tess, to someone he cares so much about that he can't trust himself with her safety, to securing her safety and the highest fucking cost (their relationship). it's disingenuous to the character of joel and his own motivations.

i don't believe that derivative works must remain 100% faithful to the source material. but i do feel genuinely crazy watching this show, and people's reactions to the show and its character choices, and feeling like the odd man out for questioning why these specific changes were made.

but ultimately, one of my biggest fucking gripes about the old man yaoi and their happy (to a certain sense of the word) ending, this ending they get in this show but not in the game, is that ellie isn't going to get that. ellie and riley and cat and dina, they can't get this happy and loving relationship because the story they are in won't let them. ellie was one of the first lesbian characters i immediately and strongly identified with, even before i knew she was a lesbian, and the series is a fucking tragedy and i'm glad bill and frank got their happy ending together, but i know the lesbian and bisexual women won't get that.

the last of us isn't a happy game or series. most moments of joy and immediately undercut by tragedy. ellie tries again and again to bring levity to the environment, but it can't last. and to see her lose a fundamental part of her character, the part fascinated with the outside world, with an urge to do good, feels bad.

[avgeriss]

Everything I hate about tlou2 :)

SPOILERS! (I’ve tagged the post but just in case the tag doesn’t work)

I wasted 20 hours on this bullshit, so now it’s time for me to talk about everything I hate about it. This is going to be a very long and very messy post.

Not in chronological order, or in order of how much I hate the particular moment/thing.

Also, I think I should just state, these are all my personal opinions, please don’t attack me over them

 1. the transphobia (I don’t care about the plot, I’m so fucking mad that Lev was deadnamed so. Many. Times)

2. the homophobia (I can’t believe this piece of shit actually called Ellie and Dina the d slur...)

3. the racist writing

4. the sexist writing

5. the fact that ALL the trailers where fucking lies

6. and they were lies because ND knew everyone was going to hate it, but they needed people to think it was good so the fans would buy it

7. the fact that they knew people would be upset with part two but went with in anyways

8. Ellie being forced to listen to Seth apologies for being a homophobic piece of shit

9. Joel dying

10. Jesse dying

11. (the /way/ Joel and Jesse died)

12. Tommy becoming a selfish fucking asshole at the end

13. Tommy and Mariah breaking up

14. the fact that Ellie and Dina didn’t even stay together? They fucking broke up at the end, what the fuck (can that be considered queerbaiting?)

15. ND trying to make us sympathies with Abby after she violently tortures and kills Joel

16. And they try to make us sympathies with her by making her grow attached to a child, just like Joel did with Ellie. It just makes her a fucking hypocrite

17. That fact that ND even thought they could get us to sympathize with Joel’s killer after we grew attached to Joel through the first game

18. That fucking sex scene oh my goodness (which includes a man cheating on his pregnant gf, yikes)

19. Joel dying AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FUCKING GAME

20. How most of the fucking game we end up playing as Abby

21. The fact that Joel and Ellie don’t even fully make up before Joel was killed IN FRONT OF ELLIE

22. That fact that the actual scene of Ellie finding out Joel lied to her was so short

23. Mariah being a bitch. They made Mariah a fucking bitch in the second game. Even more so then she was in the first game (I understand her concerns in the first game, and at the beginning of the second game, but holy shit dude)

24. We never found out what happened to Cat. She seems to be so important, but we only know about her from Ellies diary. Is she even still alive?

25. No closure for anyone. No, Ellie did not receive closure (Ellie especially didn’t receive closure)

26. The fact that Yara died (and the way she died. I had to look away)

27. the plot is horrible, as I’ve mentioned, but it’s also just a fucking mess

28. Neil trying to make us feel bad for wanting revenge on bad people? What the hell

29. Neil thinking his game was so fucking edgy and cool, when in reality it was just torture porn

30. And once again, the people who suffered this torture where: poc, women, trans and lesbian characters

31. How they built up Joel and Ellies relationship in the first game then fucking tore it down so horribly

32. The fact that ND is one hundred percent going to try and hide behind how ‘diverse’ their game is when rightfully angry fans complain

33. The fights scene where very underwhelming compared to the trailers. might just be who I watched though

34. Holy shit. The fact that Ellie didn’t even end up killing Abby, after ALL SHE WENT THROUGH! She killed all those people to get to Abby and then didn’t even end up killing her

35. I know ND isn’t about giving players choices that may affect the game dramatically, but the fact that we couldn’t even have chosen to stay with Dina?

36. That Neil’s self insert oc fucking spitting on Joel’s mangled dead body,,,, that just shows how much respect Neil has for Joel as a character.

37. I know I’ve talked about it already, but they fucked up with Joel and Ellies relationship So Fucking Bad

38. Ya’ll wanna know how mad this game made me? Towards to end, when I thought they had killed Tommy, I got so fucking mad, that my emotions just. Shut off. I was /literally/ so mad, that I couldn’t even feel how mad I was. I ended up skipping pretty much to the end fight with Abby and Ellie, which I also ended up skipping half of it anyway. How bad do you have to fuck up to make someone feel like that? That’s not easy, my dude.

39. Not one character death made me think ‘wow, that was a good death, what a way to send of this character.’ It was literally all for shock value

40. Ellie ending up alone, after she states, not once, BUT TWICE in the first game, that that’s something she doesn’t want to happen. She tells Sam that’s her biggest fear, and then tells Joel everyone she loved has died or left. That was such a big thing in the first game and ND just shit on that

41. This one is just me being a little sensitive, but ND put Ellie in her own little house, as apposed to her living with Joel. One of the most important people in her life, even after he lied to her. I might be able to understand her moving out after Joel told her the truth, but not as soon as they get to Jackson. That doesn’t fit her character At All

42. Basically, I think they just fucked up with the characters and their relationships. like don’t get me wrong, I adore Dina/Ellie, but their whole dynamic…. I just can’t place it (mainly their relationship at the beginning, it gets better towards the end, until the real end)

43. Also I feel like the only real mourning any character did was Ellie mourning Joel, and even that was done badly. I felt as though she moved on too fast, she only really started experiencing ptsd with that traumatic scene towards the end of the game. I also feel like Jesse wasn’t really mourned properly

[low-budget-korra]

The Last of Us part II - SPOILER

Well, I read a lot of comments about Joel's death, coming from people who are just genuinely upset about losing a beloved character. So I decided to write about why I don’t agree with the argument that death was just shock value or weak storytelling/plot

First let's remember the universe in which the game takes place. It is a violent world. Shall we remember how other prominent characters died?

Sarah - A girl, a child who died in her father's arms. I will comment more on it later

Tess - Infected and shot dead off camera

Henry and Sam - Sam is infected and killed by his older brother Henry, who kills himself soon after

David - Ellie breaks his face with the machete in one of the most hard to watch scenes from the first game

Marlene - Killed in cold blood by Joel

Some unimportant characters who were also killed in a violent way in cold blood like the two guys that Joel tortured and killed, and David's friend that Ellie also killed

But what about The Last of Us part II?

Joel - Tortured and killed

Scar Face guy - Dead with a stab to the neck

Nora - Infected, tortured and killed by Ellie (ps: or ellie may also have "just" tortured her and left her to die)

Owen - Murder

Mel - Pregnant and murdered

Manny - Murdered

Jesse - Murdered

Yara - Her arm is broken with a hammer, she is stabbed and shot to death many times

Did you notice something in common that is repeated in both games? Well, the uncommon in that world must be more peaceful deaths like dying of old age and not the violent ones.

And it is worth mentioning that this violence does not forgive anyone, it can be a creep son of a bitch like David or an innocent child like Sarah. It is, in fact, a merciless world.

Well, let me start commenting on Sarah again. Her death was a shock to most of the people who played or saw the walktho of the first game and we can say that this is one of the factors that leads to the end where we had Joel rescuing Ellie from the hospital after already saw her as his daughter.

Let's not forget also that it is implied in the first game that Joel had to do a lot to survive, would he have done everything the same if Sarah hadn't died on the day of the outbreak? Difficult to say but I believe that not, losing her daughter that way destroyed Joel and certainly made him a tougher person. For example, for sure the time he tortures the guys there to find out where Ellie was taken wasn't the first time he did it. Oh and I'm not judging.

So it can be said that Sarah, her death was one of the things that led us to meet the Joel that we saw 20 years after the outbreak in the first game? Yes.

Can we also say that her death was shock value, to show the player the tone of the game? Yes, although I don't agree with whoever thinks that.

And I do not agree precisely because her death had real consequences for the protagonist, it was important in terms of storytelling and it was not just there to shock the audience and show that TLOU was a really heavy game.

The same goes for Joel's death.

Do you think that if Joel had died a more "peacefull" death as an infected or a "simple" shot to the head, it would have the impact it had for Ellie? Do not forget that Ellie has ptsd to have witnessed this. And her obsession with revenge also highlights the weight that witnessing that had on her psychological.

In a bizarre way Joel's death was a consequence of his own actions. If he had not killed the surgeon, Abby would not have felt this overwhelming loss that Ellie would experience years later and thus would not seek revenge as obsessively as Ellie does later.

Ah but Joel killed everyone in the hospital to save Ellie. Understandable but even so, it does not free him from the consequences of that

Do you want an example of shock value? Just look at the entire eighth and final season of Game of Thrones where they did a lot of nonsense just for "subvert expectations". Had it felt right that Arya was the one to ki the night king?No. Had it felt right Jaime had thrown off all the development from past seasons and run into Cersei's arms? No. Did it feel right Dany goinging crazy in the penultimate episode?No.

But why not? Because the show had seasons to establish that Jon Snow would kill the night king since his entire arc was there in the north. Develop Jaime's character, taking him out of Cersei's influence. Dany is always treated like someone who is merciful, the breaker of chains...

Now seriously, this looks like Joel's death?

"ah, but he was acting different, he was out of character" you guys did notice How much Ellie changed him? After Ellie, Joel becomes someone more "peacefull"and nice to others. Thats why he helps Abby and also cuz he was not alone and because the're infecteds run after them so they didnt have much of a choice. It was a mistake in a world where this is equal to death.

A violent, brutal and unfair death but totally consistent in a world where we see this a lot during gameplay and a direct consequence of the character's actions in the previous game or a violent death taken out of nowhere just to surprise us?

Okay, I know how hard it is to overcome the death of a character we love, I still get upset when I remember Lexa from The 100 or Xena or the Red Wedding in GOT ... actually the red wedding, is yet another example of brutal death but totally in agree with the world in which got set and also a direct consequence of the actions of certain characters.

I focused in Joel's death because is the most controversial thing of the game. Even tho a huge part of the fandom were already predicting his death and making all those theorys about It. And even tho we are all expecting Dina's death to be the Ellie's arc and we are all ok with Dina's character be only that: an fuel to Ellie action or wherever.

This ended up bigger than i expeced and i still dont coment about other important parts of the game. But i will do it soon

Anyway, the thing is don't let that feeling of upset for Joel make you be unfair with a game so well done in praticaly every way possible. A game that even tho it will be easy for them just put a lot of fan services, they didnt. A game that dares to instill compassion and debates in times like ours.

And Just... If you didnt like the game is okay, just is not because thinks ended up different than you expected that means the game is bad or something like that

[defenderadora]

°✧｡ [ELIZA TAYLOR, CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER] IT’S BEEN TWO YEARS SINCE ADORA JOINED VELIA FROM SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA. APPARENTLY, THEIR NAME IS HARLOW WOLFE AND THEY’RE A WARRIOR. THEY HAVE BEEN FIGHTING AS A CATALYST MEMBER FOR A WHILE NOW. DIDN’T PEOPLE SAY THEY WERE NOT A BETA TESTER? I HEARD THEY TURNED TWENTY-EIGHT THIS YEAR. LET’S HOPE THEY MAKE IT OUT ALIVE.

hi sweeties! i’m ray and i’m exceptionally excited to be apart of this gorgeous rp. below the cut is some info about my lil babe harlow adora. if you’d like to plot hit me up or i’ll come to you. 

CHARACTERISTICS

full name :  harlow amelia wolfe

username : adora

velia level : seventy-one

birthplace : sydney, australia

age : ��twenty-eight

zodiac sign : cancer

sexuality : bisexual

height : 5′4′

build : petite and curvy

piercings : standard lobe || upper lobe || tragus || helix

tattoos : x | x | x | x

scars : one along her ankle from a childhood injury

song : please don’t go by joel adams

PERSONALITY

positive : determined || focused || survivor || resourceful || protective || brave

negative : blunt || cunning || restless || callous || resentful || grief-stricken || ruthless

BEFORE VELIA

harlow wolfe was born in the suburb of birchgrove to a middle-class family. her father worked in the tech industry and her mother a pediatrician. harlow is the middle child of two other siblings. an older brother (by three years) who has always been a protector (also being someone harlow idolized) and a younger sister (by seven years) who some would say was spoiled growing up. since harlow only had her brother as a playmate at home for seven years of her life, she steered away from the more feminine things in life and gravitated more towards the rougher things. instead of baby dolls or stuffed animals, harlow carried around toy swords and nerf guns, always itching to have a battle with her elder brother. despite her upbringing into more tough activities, she still had a big heart. too many times her parents would catch her nursing an injured animal back to health hidden away in her bedroom closet. for a while, she dreamed of becoming a veterinarian.

at the age of five, her brother, who was eight at the time, got into gaming and she soon followed. surprisingly, her favorite games were those with little violence. anywhere from life-simulation rpg (akin to the sims) to racing games. she also found herself fond of old-timey adventure games where the characters wouldn’t die. instead, they would respawn from the lasted saved spot (think legend of zelda (specifically wind waker), sonic, mario, etc). the next year, at the age of six, is when she met her best friend, darius. while searching for a new game to try out at the towns game store, she bumped hands with a little boy while they were reaching for the same game. almost immediately they became the best of friends, begging their mothers to exchange information so they could see one another again. darius was the one who introduced her to the more violent battle games in their early tweens.

the two stayed close (they tried dating but found it too odd so they decided just to stay friends) up until the age of twenty-five. harlow had met someone the year before who she thought was going to be her forever but darius didn’t trust this individual. turns out, darius’ intuition was correct. the person she met was a criminal who had been to jail numerous times for petty theft. harlow was unaware of this though. one day her prized class ring, as well as her grandfather's watch, her mothers pearls, and her brother's sports cards, went missing then somehow turned up in darius’ possession, causing her to believe that he had been the one to steal the items. turns out, it had been her partner who wanted to sell them off for some cash for drugs, and when they were almost caught, they dumped the items into darius’ bag. 

harlow (stupidly) blamed it all on darius and never gave him a chance to explain his side of the situation. he had dabbled with drugs in the past and had quit, but she assumed he got back into them, something he had promised he’d never do again. once she found out that it had been her partner who stole the items, she assumed that darius had been the one who gave them the location of her families most valuable items and continued to resent him for betraying not only her but her family as well. she blocked his number and banned him from stepping foot on her families property.

VELIA

adora, harlow’s chosen username, was always a nickname she used in any of her game servers. she may or may not have binged ‘she-ra’ when she was younger and become absolutely obsessed with the warrior princess character. she had always been attached to powerful female characters who weren’t afraid to be themselves. the old harlow would have joined velia as a knight of the blood oath or a unity member. however, since she was joining a few months after the betrayal from the two people she loved most in life, she decided to join under catalyst. she had intended to use the simulation to get out her anger from real life drama, that is until she realized she couldn’t leave.

little did she know, darius had also joined the game (under achilleus) since the two had talked about it while promotions were happening. he joined under unity. since he was familiar with her usernames for past servers, achilleus ended up finding her and once he said her real name, she knew it was him. he had been surprised to see that she joined under catalyst but didn’t question her on the matter. this was the time for him to finally force her to listen to him. it took a few months but she finally found her sanity and forgave him for what she thought he had done. she actually found herself begging him for forgiveness for her stupidity. things were going well for a while, she was still angry at her ex so she still found herself not minding being apart of catalyst.

about the six month mark is when tragedy struck. adora found herself unable to hold off a pack of monsters, her life source depleting rapidly until achilleus came to her rescue. while he was able to assist her in their defeat, his life energy shrank to life-threatening levels. he had given adora his only healing potion from his own guilds mystical, which she had used on herself. achilleus died in adora’s arms that day, ending darius’ life in the real world as well. her best friend from childhood that she had just gotten back was gone. 

after that day, her heart turned dark. while she had managed to keep her curser on green for her whole experience, she now didn’t care if it turned orange, or even worse, red. life was becoming meaningless without her best friend in it. without him, she trained harder than she ever had before, her player level rapidly rising. she finally found herself thriving within catalyst, becoming one of their best warriors due to her cunning and callousness.

months past, her curser showing no signs of returning back to green, when suddenly achilleus appeared before her, over the water, while she was fishing. long story short, he expressed his disappointment in who she had become after his demise. which is when she showed the apparition her precious wooden block that she had cut from a tree stump where she carved out each name of the people she has indirectly or directly killed. she remembers all of them. though, she keeps it a secret from her fellow guild members, knowing they wouldn’t approve of her keeping something with sentimental value that weakened her ruthless fighting spirit.

adora continues to see apparitions of achilleus where he is pleading with her to be good, to do better, telling her that he’s afraid she’s losing her humanity. she doesn’t see why it matters since she’s clearly already lost her mind. 

she wishes to be her old self again, to make darius proud, but she feels as though she is too far gone. she can no longer be saved from her demons and maybe she doesn’t wish to be saved.

POSSIBLE WC

tbh i haven’t thought too much about this?? so this is to be determined as of right now. i’m very open to plotting though.

[dichenlachmandaily]

[This story contains full spoilers for the first season of Netflix's Altered Carbon.]

Takeshi Kovacs (Joel Kinnaman) was on ice for centuries. When he was brought back into the world, he was tasked with finding a killer, without a single loved one from his old life still alive for company. Imagine his surprise, then, when he found out in virtually the same instant that, yes, someone he loves very much is still alive — and this person is also the criminal he's been tracking all along.

Such is the twist toward the end of season one of Netflix's Altered Carbon, from showrunner Laeta Kalogridis, based on the novel of the same name by Richard K. Morgan. In the sixth episode, it's revealed that Kovacs' sister Reileen, played by Dollhouse and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. alum Dichen Lachman, is not only alive and well, but is also responsible for the gruesome crime at the heart of the series: the apparent murder of Laurens Bancroft (James Purefoy), which is actually a suicide, albeit one Rei helped engineer. What's more, we learn that Reileen was the woman responsible for betraying Kovacs and his allies, the Envoys, so many centuries ago — including Quellcrist Falconer (Renée Elise Goldsberry), the love of Kovacs' life.

For her part, Reileen swears that her violent actions are all fueled by her undying love for her brother. But did Rei really become impossibly wealthy through so many criminal enterprises (including but not limited to owning a high-end brothel where the selective clientele is permitted and even encouraged to kill the employed sex workers) purely out of family loyalty? It's a tough sell, to put it lightly, made even more difficult once Rei starts targeting the new people in Kovacs' life.

Among those people: Bay City police officer Kristin Ortega (Martha Higareda), the person at the heart of the most shocking action scene of the series. Near the end of the eighth episode, Ortega discovers a secret headquarters where Rei houses several different copies of herself for resleeving purposes. The two women then engage in battle — Ortega armed with her new cybernetic arm, and Rei wearing absolutely nothing, armed with a sword. Soon, various different Rei sleeves burst out from their shells, all of them naked, all of them dead set on stopping Ortega at all costs.

"That was a really difficult sequence, obviously because of the situation the actors were in, not having clothes on," visual effects supervisor Everett Burrell previously told The Hollywood Reporter about putting the fight scene together. "That's a tough scene to navigate around, keeping it cool and action-oriented while also not revealing too much. We don't want to get an X rating. That was a challenge, keeping it amazingly well choreographed while also being prudent about the nudity."

In the end, Rei wins the battle against Ortega, but she loses her war, dying in the arms of her own brother at the end of the season — assuming it was her final death. Will we see Lachman and Rei on Altered Carbon again, assuming Netflix renews the series for a second season? The Hollywood Reporter spoke with Lachman about that very question, as well as her character's motivations, and what was involved in bringing her elaborate fight scene to life.

As Reileen, you're playing one of the most complicated characters in Altered Carbon — someone who is emotionally vital to the protagonist, but also serves as the antagonist of the season. What was the key to figuring out how to play this role?

I had a rough idea of the character early on, but I was still slowly getting the material. Once I started getting deeper and deeper into it, I figured out how to make Reileen human, but at the same time portray that she's lost a lot of her humanity. It was about finding that balance. She has done some horrific and unforgivable things in the series, things that are difficult to come to terms with. At the same time, I really wanted to — and I talked to the producers about this, and they agreed — to make her vulnerable, and still have some humanity. It was a tricky balance. She has to be the bad guy in order for the story to unfold, but I also wanted people to be able to see her point of view and understand that she really believed she was doing the right thing.

Reileen commits unforgivable acts across the series, and it starts even earlier than the many centuries she spends creating her business empire. She's the one who betrays Kovacs, Quellcrist and the rest of the Envoys, for one thing. She also spent her youth working alongside the yakuza. What was your interpretation for how Reileen was able to commit so much violence?

In a way, violence begets violence. She already grew up in a very violent environment, with domestic abuse, in terms of her mother and father's relationship. She then ends up in the yakuza world, which is a matter of nurture. Her relationship with violence will be very different from someone else who doesn't grow up in that environment. I think that nurture has a lot to do with it. When she finds Takeshi and she joins the Envoys, what happens is… her love for her brother is so deep. She says it in that moment in episode seven, that they only just got each other back in the last few years — and now Quell has provided this enormous threat. Her brother is going on this suicide mission. In a way, Quell is going to take him away. Reileen doesn't believe in any of the stuff that the Envoys are going on about. For her, she thinks it's crazy.

She's the last person to volunteer when Quell announces the dangerous stakes of their mission…

Absolutely. For her, she believes that people should be able to decide for themselves whether they want to live forever or not. It's not something you should impose on somebody. For her, she feels it's completely ludicrous. I have to bring up the ending here: it's open to interpretation, but I always believed that Rei backed up Quell before she died. She knew her brother loved her, and she knew in order to have her brother in her life in the future — and for him to be happy — Quell would have to be there. I think she figured, "I can change their minds later. I'll worry about that in the future. Right now, I have to save our lives. We're not going on this suicide mission. It's out of the question." I always believed that Rei really believed in what she was doing, that it was right. Then there's so much time missing in terms of what Rei was doing while her brother was on ice. But in terms of working on the character, I had to believe it was a slow degradation of her humanity, and the first thing she did was kill all of the Envoys — or betray them, at least, resulting in her death — which gave her all of this money and power, but nobody to share it with. It slowly eroded away. It was a progression. I don't think there was one moment. I think Rei is a good person who made bad choices, and those choices led to the erosion of her humanity over a long period of time.

Altered Carbon features at least one major action scene in every episode, and you were at the heart of what's easily the most memorable of these sequences: episode seven's fight between Ortega and a small army of naked Rei sleeves. How did you prepare for that scene?

When they brought it up, it was nerve-wracking, of course. But after talking with [the producers], that scene is so important. Reileen's nudity in that scene represents her power. It's not objectifying. She's helpless. She's so much in her body. As Laeta said it, she's not there for the male gaze. Knowing that, and then going back into my work on the character, I started to get excited about it. It was daunting. It's such a vulnerable place to be, to be completely naked. Nudity can be tricky in some cultures, for varying reasons. I personally have no issue seeing it in art and content, as long as no one was pushed into doing anything they didn't want to do. But Rei is so physically fearless, that I leaned into her. It made sense for the story and the world. That's why I decided to do it.

Then there's the preparation for it. It was months of training with the sword with [Eighty-Seven Eleven Action Design], the stunt team, which was so remarkable. I felt so supported. They did such a great job. As an aside, and some people might not know this, but every fight scene on this show was [pre-visualized], which means they shoot the entire fight scene with the stunt actors. They edit it with music and special effects. It's remarkable. Some of the videos the stunt team made were so good, that I was just astonished. With the naked fight, they had done that, just like they had done for every other fight. Before I even shot it, I had a very good idea of what I was walking into. They made a huge effort to set up shots and work on the choreography so I felt comfortable in terms of doing it naked. I don't think this has been done before, so I was having trouble, not knowing a lot about stunt choreography and filming something like this. I didn't know how to imagine what it was going to look like. So it ended up being a huge advantage, to see it before. When you hear about something you've never seen before, it's hard to visualize. Those pre-viz fights came in extremely handy, just in terms of my training and rehearsing, of course, but also in really feeling like everyone was on my side to do whatever they could do to make me feel comfortable and make sure there was nothing in the shot I didn't feel comfortable with.

Reileen dies at the end of the season, but given the premise of the show, it's easy to see how she could return — whether that's in flashback, or if she had back-ups of her stack. Will we see Reileen in season two?

You just said it: this world is very different from the one we're living in, so of course there's the possibility. But it all depends on what they want to focus on. There's such a wealth of story, even in the first book, and ways to expand on different periods of time or different characters. They probably have an embarrassment of riches in terms of which story they want to tell, if they do go with a second season. But of course it's possible. Rei is one of the most powerful people in the universe, at least as far as it says in the book. She's very powerful in the show. I can't imagine she doesn't have a back-up somewhere. She's very organized. I think she would have a lot of contingencies planned. It's a possibility, but we don't know yet.

Do you think Rei will return for Altered Carbon season two? Sound off in the comments section below, and keep following THR.com/LiveFeed for more coverage of the series.

[leeholtwrites]

Short Story: A Dying Problem

I was digging through my computer files out of procrastination, and came across a kind of embarrassingly silly story I wrote in college. I actually think I wrote it my freshman year, circa 2007-2008, but it says 2010. Probably the last time I did some editing. I don’t remember. I’m still surprised I have it.

I’m posting it here for you just to show we all have to start somewhere, even though I’d already had years of writing experience by this point, it is still pretty unrefined. Hadn’t quite found my voice yet.

So enjoy this silly little story about an old lady kicking Death’s ass.

A Dying Problem

It was a beautiful day, as always, with the constantly blue skies and the never ending greenness of the grass as the pale Mustang wove along the perfect stretch of black asphalt that cut through the field to glittering skyscraper smack in the center of it all. Everyday the Mustang took the same route from the mansion to the skyscraper and everyday it always looked the same, except for the minor changes that always took place to keep up with the times. Take the asphalt road for example. It used to be cobblestone before this wonderful sleek stretch that existed now, and before that dirt. Before the invention of cars the Mustang used to be a mustang, with no exact color, just pale. Although sometimes people would mistake it for other light shades of actual colors, but that was only when the sun hit the car at the right angles changing the shade.

           Eventually the car and its occupant pulled into the reserved spot – the only parking spot – just for them in front of the skyscraper. A tall, imposing, but handsome man exited the Mustang with his expensive Italian leather brief case in one hand and the black Rolex he always wore on the opposite wrist. He never bothered looking at that watch as he stepped through the revolving doors into the lobby. He always arrived the same time everyday. He pressed the elevator button and waited for it while he inspected his impeccable dark hair in the doors to the shaft with his bright hazel eyes, like always. It was a habit he had acquired as time went on, and now it was a necessity. The doors opened with a ding and he stepped in.      

           “Good morning Mr. Reaper,” was the first thing he heard when he stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor. It was always the first thing he heard. The greetings continued as he headed past the rows of cubicles and offices until he reached a pair of monstrous black doors which had remained open since time began.

           “Hello Miss Scarlet. Are their any messages for me this morning?” Mr. Reaper asked, as always.

           The secretary glanced up at him. Despite the fact that she had died at the age of ninety, Jamie Scarlet looked to be in her prime. Everyone in Purgatory looked to be in their prime. “Yes sir,” she responded as she sorted through a stack of pink sticky notes. “Lucifer wishes to visit you later this afternoon for lunch, and to give you back your lighter. A new reaper has killed someone for their soul, and the board needs your help to sort through the problem. There is a board meeting this afternoon.”

           Mr. Reaper took the notes from her with a smile. “Thank you Miss Scarlet. Don’t know what I would do without you.”

           “You would have to look at your own e-mail sir.”

           He chuckled and walked into his pale and black office where he placed his brief case on his large desk behind a heavy black marble name plate with huge capital letters that spelt: DEATH. He plopped down into his ergonomically designed chair and turned on his computer. Such a wonderful thing was this computer, no longer did he have to look through worn out tomes all day to make sure that the deaths had gone according to plan, or at least the ones that he was concerned with. There were too many in the world everyday for him to go through all of them.

           The first thing he would look into was this problem with one of the “reapers.” They were the employees that went out to collect the souls of the dead or dying and had to enter their collections with an area office everyday. Then the area office sent it through special computers to the main office here in purgatory. These “reapers” remained on Earth till it was time for them to move on just like everyone else in the random selection process. Of course the collections weren’t the souls themselves, just a file that contained the list of souls that the reaper was in charge of that day. All the files were then sent throughout the building where many other souls in cubicles entered them into the computer by how they died and last thought. Although it was more complicated then this, but nobody really cared to think about it. After all, it was pretty much routine.

           Today this problematic reaper was somewhere in LA trying to do his job; although, it was only his second day. After looking at the first day, Death decided that perhaps he should talk to him personally. In a cloud of gray smoke he disappeared, and then reappeared next to his new employee.

           “Hello there.”

           The former gang member nearly orbited the moon. “Jeez slick, where you come from? Tryin’ to get jumped? Believe me, wearin’ that suit you are.”

           Death watched as the young man tilted his shoulders back to give him a good look, forming a cocky smile on his face. He knew that just by the way he was greeted this employee has no idea who he was. “Excuse me, but is that anyway to greet your boss?”

           “Boss, ha. I don’t need no boss. I’m death, ya see old man.”

           Mr. Reaper smiled. “No, your just a reaper, I’m Death, and I’m here to tell you that your doing your job all wrong. Reapers aren’t supposed to kill for their souls, their supposed to wait till their client dies or until their about to die, especially if it’s a violent death, before taking their souls. Do you understand me?”

           The young gangster just stared at him for a moment, the look on his face showing how unsettled he was, but it was only for a moment. Quickly regaining his composure he folded his arms as that cocky grin reappeared on his face. “So ya might be just like me, but how do I know if you’re the Grim Reaper himself? You could just be screwin’ with me.”

           A smile spread across Death’s face. In only an instant the new employee got a glimpse of the Grim Reaper’s famous image, and one of his favorites. The young man nearly wet himself when he saw it and had to blink a couple times just to make sure that he just didn’t imagine it. “Shit! You really are him!”

           “Now, now. We don’t encourage profanities.”

           “Yes sir,” the young man replied humbled.

           It was then that Death knew that he would have no more problems with this particular employee, but there was one more thing he had to handle. “Now you understand that there will be no more killing of clients?”

           “Yes sir.”

           “Then hand me the gun.”

           Without a question the gun was handed over from its original place in the band of the young man’s pants to Mr. Reaper’s hand where it turned to dust immediately to his employee’s surprise. After wiping his hands off with a handkerchief pulled from his inner coat pocket, Death disappeared.

 Lunch with Lucifer was the same as usual. They chatted about the good old days before the former angel’s fall and then his unholiness asked for another lighter because he said that he had lost the last one he had borrowed from Death. He always lost the last one he had borrowed. For some reason it seemed to Mr. Reaper that it was really hard to keep the fires of hell lit, or that was what Lucifer always told him. Of course, since he was the Father of Lies, Death never believed him anyway. He just gave him the lighter, one of many he kept in drawer just for these kinds of occasions.

           After lunch he headed off to his board meeting where he sat at the head of a long mahogany table riddled with chairs and many interesting people. These only happened when there was a special case death that he had to take care of, or one coming up in the future. He loved progress because it made his job so much easier. No longer did he have to deal with everybody as it was in the early days. That’s what his employees were for.

           “We have a very, very special case today Mr. Reaper,” the man sitting on his right told him the moment everyone took their seats.

           “How truly special is it Mr. Jefferson?” he couldn’t help but ask. To him special cases were just like normal ones because he had been doing this job so long he had pretty much become an expert at getting his souls. The only thing he hadn’t figured out was the random selection that was used to replace his employees as they moved on to heaven, or if Satan got a hold of them, hell. Perhaps that was God’s doing, but he never asked.

           “Lets just say that this is a first,” answered the third president of the United States, a perfect example of this random selection system, of course few would recognize him today looking as if in his late twenties and in modern fashion. Even with being placed in such a good position, it had been over two hundred years and now he just wanted to move on.

           “A first you say! This has never happened before,” blurted out Joel Camden, a former paper pusher accountant, and nobody. “The old bat escaped death twice!” He also wasn’t very smart.

           Everyone at the table stared at Camden before nodding slowly in compliance. Jefferson just rolled his eyes. “That is pretty much it.”

           “Wow, that really is new,” Death responded mildly shocked. “So what do I have to do to handle this? Scare her soul out of her.”

           “Unfortunately it isn’t that simple. You’re going to have to kill her,” the ex-president responded.

           “She’s too mean to let it go,” Mr. Marshals informed him. “So you’ll have to force it out of her. I know our policy, but this is the only way around the problem.”

           “Have you tried talking to the Almighty One about this?”

           “He said handle it yourself,” Jack Monroe responded, the former electrician that was now in charge of Heavenly Communication.

           Death sat there and mulled the situation over for a moment. The only times he had to kill anyone was either to protect himself or to stop one of Satan’s minions from taking the soul from him, and that technically wasn’t killing anyone since demons weren’t living to begin with.

           “Well,” he began as he rose slowly from his seat, “I shall handle this and I thank you all for letting me know before she escaped death a third time. I shall check in with you when the dirty business is complete,” and he left leaving them all in their seats with out another word.

 With a puff of his usual gray smoke Death appeared on the sidewalk in front of a beautifully taken care of Victorian style house in pale yellow. The green lawn greeted him as the tree branches seemed to welcome him up the walk to the porch of this lovely establishment. He had hopes that with a place this nice the old lady wasn’t too mean to give up the ghost, but who knew. How did that old adage go? You can’t judge a book by its cover? Well in this situation it was more like the shelf it sits on.

           With a broad grin across his face, Death rang the door bell. It wasn’t long till he saw the light seeping through the peep hole disappear for a moment and heard the dead bolt unlock. The door opened and green eye in a wrinkled socket appeared just below the security chain still holding the door partially closed.

           “I don’t want whatever you’re selling. Now get off my property before I sick my dog on you,” a gruff, aged voice commanded.

           Death merely smiled. “I am not a salesman as you so presume madam. I am Death, and I have come for your soul.”

           The door closed for a moment before reopening without the security chain. “Ha,” she laughed as held open the door fully. “You, Death,” she scoffed, “You look more like some greasy lawyer than the Grim Reaper himself. If you are really him, prove it.”

           Death reached into his inner coat pocket, the one opposite of the handkerchief, and produced a black business card with white lettering spelling DEATH in the center of it. He handed it to her.

           “This doesn’t mean anything!” she said as she held it in her fingers, “You could have these made anywhere.” Irritated, she flicked it back at him, but it only disintegrated into dust in midair. “What was that? Some stupid parlor trick? Get the hell off my property now!”

           “Now madam, I really don’t want to go to extremes with you,” Death replied once he realized that this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought. “Just give up your soul and we can move on peacefully. You have already passed your expiration date once.”

           “Vinny! Sick ‘em!”

           “Vinny?” Mr. Reaper replied in confusion before he saw the yapping little monster that emerged from behind the door. “Oh Lord. I hate dogs,” he muttered before he ran from the door and down the path to the sidewalk in his shiny Armani shoes. Once he hit the street he disappeared in a forward moving puff of smoke that ended up looking more like a streak. He reappeared back in his office just in front of his desk where he smashed straight into it before his face met the surface.

 Across the street in front of the pale yellow Victorian house sat a pale Mustang. It had been there the rest of the afternoon and into the evening with its occupant watching the house closely. It seemed he was spying on the old woman, trying to learn her habits, but that wasn’t the truth. Death just needed to think. He didn’t want to make her death too violent and he didn’t want her to suffer. Maybe he could blow her house up with a gas leak. No, that was too messy.

           “For someone who deals with death, I sure don’t know much about killing someone,” he whispered to himself. “Why do I have to do this?” Death already knew the answers to that, but he felt like complaining. He wanted God to know he didn’t like this dirty business.

           Decided that sitting in his car and whining wasn’t doing the job for him, he got out and popped the trunk. Mr. Reaper had decided that maybe he should at least try and kill her in her sleep before pulling her soul out – a particularly painful experience when someone was still alive. Reaching into his trunk he pulled out a scythe with a collapsible handle. After straightening it out and screwing the pieces together, he closed the trunk and headed across the street, but the moment he reached the porch he stopped. What about the dog?

           It didn’t take long till he decided that he wouldn’t worry about the dog and just wing it.

           Using one of his special abilities, he passed through the door and began to venture through the house without making a sound. He could be undetectable to humans, but the other problem with pets is that they could sense the supernatural. At least she had a dog instead of a cat, otherwise he probably would have already been found out.

           The layout of the house wasn’t too complicated and it wasn’t too long till he had gotten his bearings. After passing through the first floor he headed up the moonlit stairs to the next story. She had to be in one of the rooms up here since he hadn’t seen her leave the house all day and she wasn’t down stairs. The first door open was the guest room, then the bathroom before he had to open a door himself, which ended up being a closet. Gripping the handle on the scythe tightly he made his way to the door at the end of the hall. She had to be there, asleep hopefully. He peeked in the partially open door only to see a used and empty bed.

           “Where in the name of hell is that woman?” he muttered to himself in confusion.

           He pushed open the door, but that ended up being a mistake. Waiting for him on the other side was the old woman – with a shotgun. Even though Death couldn’t die, he could still feel pain.

           “Thought you would break into my house this time you sleazebag?! You’re going to be sorry!” she shouted as she cocked her old double barreled shotgun.

           It didn’t take much mental processing until he had spun around and ran down the hall nearly tripping over the yapping monster Vinny. He turned the corner and ran down the stairs just as bird shot blew apart the wall. Death could hear her cocking the weapon again as she followed him to his destination known as out of the house. “Good Lord she runs fast for and old crony,” he breathed.

           Mr. Reaper leaped over the couch, made a left, and there the door was just waiting for him, if only he could make it before she caught up with him. That didn’t happen. She pulled the trigger again and bird shot littered his back, making him grunt in pain, but that didn’t stop him. He passed through the door, removing the shot from his back, and ran to the Mustang. Tossing the scythe through the window he dove in after it as the car drove off.

  The ceiling of his office wasn’t very interesting as he found out the next day. Mr. Reaper had just gotten back, changed suits, and lay on his desk to think about the troublesome situation. He didn’t know how long he had been there resting his head on the keyboard with the endless rows of blinking js continuing along the screen. He shifted his head to look mournfully at his destroyed black Armani suit. There were better suits he owned that were hand crafted and not designer, but it still had been one of his favorites.

           It seemed now he had to bring out the big guns and stop playing it easy. That meant black hooded cloak and all. He hated feeling like and assassin or some secret government operative that had to kill a threat to national security – only he wasn’t getting paid.

           Sighing, Death lifted his head from the keyboard and his body from the large desk before moving over to a dust covered cabinet against one of the walls. He hadn’t had to use his robe since The Second World War when Conquest, War, and Famine got bored and he had to put them in line. He was the most powerful horseman and Death did end all things eventually. He also helped to arrange the elimination of Hitler, but it was more of team effort, so he really couldn’t take all the credit.

           There he stood staring at the double doors on the cabinet in his chocolate brown suit with his immaculate hair. Perhaps this might end up being a little overkill, but whatever. With another sigh he grabbed the knobs on the doors and slowly opened them. There hung the infamous black robe as ageless as the first day he wore it millennia ago. All he had to do was reach out and touch it. The fabric wrapped itself around his body like a tangible shadow before it lets itself drape elegantly over his form. Death grabbed the scythe, the one he was known for, and strung it around his shoulders by the worn leather strap attached to it.

           Full of new confidence he marched right out of his office and was stopped by Jamie Scarlet. She sat there reading a volume of the Darwin awards with her hand on his arm.

           “The front desk says there is a messenger coming up with a message from an archangel for you. He should be here,” she looked up, “shortly.”

           Sure enough a young man walked through the double doors and handed Miss Scarlet the message. “Hey grandma. You reading what I did, huh?”

           “Duck taping you feet to a skateboard with tampered fireworks attached to it was not smart, especially when you decide to ride your contraption on a crowded street.”

           “I know, but I have to get back to work. I’ve got a message for Satan. Bye grandma,” and finally noticing the Grim Reaper standing there, “hi Death.” Then the kid was gone.

           “Family. That’s rare. Usually families never end up in purgatory together, especially if they’re that closely related.”

           “Interesting,” Miss Scarlet responded with her usual disinterest. “Here’s the message as promised.”

           Mr. Reaper took the piece of stiff, stark white paper and unfolded it as he watched Miss Scarlet go back to her reading. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the messaged that was typed out on the card stock. It said:

Heard about your problem. Want to use my sword?

Michael

             With a smile he crumpled up the note and threw it in the wire trash bin. “Send him and e-mail and tell him thanks, but I have my own.”

 Death stood on the sidewalk opposite of the yellow Victorian house in which the evil old woman lived. To the average passer by he would seem to be a kid with a ball cap pulled over his face and a guitar on his back. Even then he was entirely inconspicuous. Death always was. Silently he waited while periodically looking at his black Rolex. It wasn’t common for him to be in a hurry, but sunset seemed to be setting a little later this evening than usual. He wondered if God was screwing with him.

           Eventually sunset finally came and he made his way across the street without a sound as he passed in the shadows between street lights. Pulling his scythe off his back he passed through the front door. Considering the yapping that was coming from the back yard he figured that her little beast wasn’t in the house. That meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about being found out until he found his mark. With a wicked grin he stalked through the house.

           Again she wasn’t on the first floor of the house, so now it was time to ascend the stairs a second time. Then the grin disappeared. Death caught him self thinking about the previous disaster with the shotgun and had to remind himself that bullets couldn’t pass through the cloak he was currently wearing. Still, he had that ominous feeling of disaster resting on his shoulders.

           He stopped. Now wasn’t the time doubt him self. That is how people usually ended up meeting Him on the other end of purgatory after passing through his way station. With a deep breath he erased all negative thoughts. One foot moved up to the next step, deflating the plush, mauve carpet beneath it. The wicked grin returned and Death was stalking once again.

           This time he knew where she was because he could hear the water running in the master bathroom. Again the doubt began to creep in. Would he be able to kill a defenseless old woman? It was one thing when she had a shot gun, but in the shower or bath tub? It would be like a scene from Psycho.  The Grim Reaper a murderer?

           He groaned. Death really didn’t like the prospects of this. Nothing was working out here. Perhaps this was the break he needed, but even then it didn’t seem fair. Killing an old lady in her bathtub even though she had shot at him and sent her dog to chew his leg off seemed something that a demented, sick minded bastard would do. Not him.

           So he decided he would wait.

           Mr. Reaper stood in the hall leaning against the wall within full view of her open bedroom door. He looked at his watch hoping that it wouldn’t take all night. That’s when he saw her pass by the hall fully clothed. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait so long to finish the deed after all. With a shove of his elbow he was moving down the hall toward his target.

           Death crept into the room and looked around. She wasn’t there.

           With a groan he dropped his scythe with one hand and let the blade droop to the ground. “Don’t tell me she, she’s a witch,” he muttered under his breath, every word dripping with sarcasm. “I swear God must suddenly hate me.”

           There was a bump from the bathroom.

           “What the--? I’ve got you now!” Taking up his scythe he rushed into the bathroom free from any shame or doubts, ready to rip this lady a new one for screwing with him. The blaring white lights and water filled bathtub was all that greeted him. Yet again, she wasn’t there. “God damn it!” he swore angrily before throwing his scythe down on the white linoleum floor. Frustrated, he began to rant at the ceiling, “World War Two wasn’t even this hard! I mean seriously, what the hell do you want from me! I don’t kill people! I take souls! There is a difference you know, or did you change the rules on me?”

           “I’m not sure what your mental problem is, but I told you before stay the fuck off my property you freak!”

           Mr. Reaper turned around just in time to watch her yank the bath mat out from under his feet. He stumbled back trying to regain his balance only to trip over the back of the bath tub. To save himself he clung onto the shower curtain. Unfortunately Death isn’t weightless, and it tore away from the rings. Painfully he landed with a splash in the tub slamming his head up against the wall. Slightly disoriented from the tumble, the last thing he saw was an old, yellowed radio flying through the air before it connected with the water.

 Slap, Slop, Slap, Slop.

           These were the sounds made by the scuffed and soggy designer dress shoes as they marched along the dry carpet leaving soaking footprints in their wake. Behind the footprints dragged a rather unhappy looking piece of farming equipment. The leader of this sorry parade was the Grim Reaper fried and sopping.

           The row of cubicles looked longer today under the dangling edge of his drenched hood. He knew that he was being watched by everyone as they leaned curiously in their office chairs to get a good look at him. Death had been bested, again. He could feel the rows of eyes staring at him in shock as he dragged on by knowing that he had been completely and utterly humiliated. He couldn’t help but feel that God was punishing him for something, he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

           “Whoa! What the hell happened to you?”

           Death gave a slow shift of his head to look at the speaker. It was Kirk Cobain. Ironically he too had been shot by a shotgun, only he did it himself. “I wish Hell had happened to me,” he replied dryly before resuming his slow pace.

           He wished he could have died when she electrocuted him. Sadly, he can’t.

           That wonderful ergonomic chair he loved so much made a soggy squish when he finally fell into it. Today it felt especially wonderful after what he had been through. He had dragged himself out of the water when the electricity finally gave. The lady had gone and the house was now all pitch black. The dog wasn’t even there to finish him off. Humbled, he decided it best to go back to his office and talk with someone on his board about what had happened so they could decide what to do to handle situation better. Perhaps he should have gone home first.

           The refection in his computer screen that was staring back at him was haggard and worn. He looked partially like a drowning victim and partially like Jack Monroe when he had touched that naked wire his assistant had forgot to cut the power to. His immaculate hair was hanging down from under his hood which had almost slipped down to cover his eyes. His eyes even took on a transformation now suddenly looking puffy and red. He felt fatigued and his bones ached with pain. Death didn’t look like he usually did, neat and professional. Death looked like shit.

           There was a knock in the doorway. Mr. Reaper looked up to see Thomas Jefferson standing there with a raised eyebrow. “Can I talk to you?”

           “Sure,” he muttered while pushing his hood off so he could fix his hair.

           The dead president took a seat in the chair across from him before uttering another word. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

           Death was suddenly paying attention. “I was wondering about that myself, but the truth is I think God is punishing me for something. I just don’t know what”

           “I wonder that everyday, only I know what I’m being punished for.”

           “Might I ask what?” Death already knew the answer.

           “For being and atheist,” he responded. “I even tried to rewrite the bible. I’m figuring that was probably where I overstepped my bounds.”

           “Really, and you don’t think it was overthrowing a government?”

           Jefferson gave him a rather admonishing look that showed he really didn’t approve of Death’s weak attempt at a joke. “If that were the case then Washington would be shining your shoes.”

           Death shrugged in defeat. “So what do you think I should do about this little problem then?”

           “I can’t think of anything. Just don’t give up on it because if you don’t get rid of that old lady then the back log is only going to get worse. Since her soul wasn’t received when it was supposed to, no others are being accepted till she shows up. You have to fix this. Every other competent individual in this place along with myself have been trying to figure something out, but all the other routes have been close off. You can’t arrange her death, she always misses it. You have to kill her.”

           In response, Death’s head sunk to his desk with a moan. He really didn’t want to do it, but if he had to then it would be done. He lifted his head and sank into his chair. “Okay,” he said sounding like a small child that didn’t want to do what their father said despite that they had no choice.

           “Are you going to be okay?”

           “Yeah,” he responded grudgingly. “This really sucks.”

           The president smirked. “I’ve put myself in those situations a few times. So at the very least be happy it’s not your fault.”

           Grim smiled as Jefferson got up. “Thanks, and could you do me a favor? Get me some coffee before you go hide away in your office again.”

           He nodded and left.

           Now Death was alone to contemplate what he was going to do about that wretched woman. Deciding that nothing else was going to work, it was time to bring out the big guns.

 Again he stood across the street staring at the house that was home to the lady who currently seemed to be the bane of his existence. She had returned home to her shorted out house a few hours ago as he found out, but he didn’t immediately return to the poorly lit sidewalk to lie in wait. Instead he was donning his new robes and preparing not to fall for this witch’s trickery. This time he was determined to get rid of her by whatever means necessary. He almost wished he still had that problematic employee’s gun, but he had more style than that. If he had to he would rip her soul right out. That wicked grin crossed Death’s face, only now he held no doubts. This old lady was going down.

           Crouched like a tiger, Death floated across the street, scythe in hand. This time he didn’t bother with stealth or even knocking. Instead he blasted the solid oak door apart with a single swing. There before the remnants of the barrier stood the menacing robed skeleton of lore ready to retrieve her soul. A twisted, menacing smile crossed his face. He would not be out smarted this time, and he would not allow his weaknesses to get the best of him.

           The Grim Reaper stepped over the threshold into a glowing, candle lit room. The soft yellow light cast strong, elongated shadows across the walls giving the house an almost eerie atmosphere about it, but he was Death. Eerie could have been his middle name. Carefully he placed one foot in front of the other making sure that each step was heard. “Come out where ever you are?” he hissed. “I know you aren’t afraid to face me grandma.”

           “So you really are Death here for my soul,” croaked a voice from his left. He glanced over to see the wrinkled old skeleton standing in the shadows of her kitchen aiming her old double barreled shotgun right at his chest. “You sure are a stubborn one aren’t you? When you going to give up?”

           “Death is never going to give up. People will always have to die eventually; it just depends on how long your life is before your time is up. Some people just die sooner than others, but you have had your long life and now it is time to give your soul up.” Death stared her down, scythe in both hands. “Now bring it on.”

           The old lady cocked her shot gun with a cackle before taking aim. When the shot impacted Death barely flinched despite the pain he felt growing in his chest. The only thing stopping him from doubling over in pain was the fact that he couldn’t die. Without hesitation he charged forward just as she pulled the trigger again.

           Again he was hit, and again he didn’t stop.

           With his scythe he pushed the gun aside before reaching a grisly, skeletal arm forward. It sunk through her chest like it was made of air before he grasped her soul. The old woman looked at him with glassy, stunned eyes as if trying to figure out what was going on, but that was before he started to pull. Her face contorted into an expression of unfathomable torment as her life was being wrenched from her body. Death’s hand emerged from her corporeal body holding something that seemed as intangible as smoke, the near transparent substance tensing and thrashing in pain.

           “What are you doing?” the old woman croaked.

           “I’m tearing out your soul,” he answered simply.

           Anger flared in her eyes. “I’m not going to let you.”

           Suddenly the soul began to pull back. Death tugged harder, but it wasn’t coming loose. He gave it a rough yank, but then it pulled back. So he yanked again. It wasn’t long before it became a macabre tug of war, his hand passing in out of her body, too stubborn to let go of the obstinate soul. When the battle became pointless he let go.

           The old lady snapped back against the cabinets as if a giant rubber band hit her in the chest. Death approached with his scythe raised ready to finish the job – then a vicious Jack Russell terrier clamped onto his leg. He screamed in shock before he began to attempt to remove the yapping monster. Shaking his leg futilely, Death braced himself against the wall so as the gain better function of his leg, but before his could kick the dog off her heard the old lady scream.

           “Don’t you touch Vinny!”

           That’s when he learned how much a toaster hurt.

           Death slumped down to the ground momentarily stunned. When he gained focus the dog had let go and he could see the old lady scooting around the corner. She was headed for the stairs. “God hates me,” he muttered angrily before he jumped to his feet to follow.

           Up the stairs she went and down to the hall to her room at the end. He had to admit, she was pretty quick for her age, but he was faster. Death had almost caught up with her when she passed through her open doorway, but a wooden box had to be dodged before he could catch her, but it wasn’t the end of the missiles. Item after item had to be dodged as Death closed in, but she kept backing away. Through every vase, pillow, lamp, or perfume bottle he would catch a glimpse of her heading toward the open window. The window she couldn’t see.

           As the last pillow flew, he cut it in half to send feathers floating everywhere. Through the thick white cloud he advanced, and would have had her if she didn’t go tumbling over the low windowsill into the dark, night air.

           Standing next to the whining Vinny he looked out the window to the old lady’s broken body on the grass below. Death couldn’t do anything but feel stupefied.

           “I can’t believe God was screwin’ with me.”

 As usual the sky was blue and the grass green as the pale mustang wove its way to the lone building in the middle of the field. As usual its occupant was on time and immaculate looking in his navy blue pinstriped suit. As usual the elevator opened with a ding on the top floor as it did every morning. As usual calls of, “Good morning Mr. Reaper,” greeted him as he walked across the floor to his office at the other side of the building.

           Before he reached his office he stopped in at the office of Jack Monroe. The door stood open, so all he did was stick his head in to see Jack talking to Jefferson. Since everything had returned to normal, they now had almost nothing to do.

           “Hello there Mr. Reaper. I see that everything is back to normal,” Jack greeted him once he was noticed. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

           “Yes there is. Can you get me God in my office? I have to speak to him.”

           He nodded, “Yes sir.”

           Death began to duck out when he remembered something. “Oh, and Jefferson…”

           The ex-president looked up from his matte black coffee mug with a quizzical look. “Yes sir.”

           “The next time you think you’re being punished, just think, John Smith isn’t here.” Then he left before he could see Jefferson grin.

           Mr. Reaper passed Miss Scarlet with a hasty hello before walking into his office and setting his briefcase down on his desk. Then he turned to the large flat screen on his wall to see a rather smiley blonde. “Hello Gabriel. I need to talk to the Almighty.”

           “Oh! Hello Death. Long time no talk to!” He shouted excitedly. “How long has it been? I can’t remember. So that means you haven’t had a chance to see my new shoes!”

           Death just smiled. If anyone thought God hated gays they obviously hadn’t met Gabriel. He wasn’t just gay, he was flaming. “I’ll see them later. Can you please put God on?”

           “Alright,” he responded sounding slightly disheartened, but no less cheery.

           The screen changed over to a large imposing man sitting at a monstrous wooden desk. His dark eyes pierced through the screen to meet Mr. Reaper’s hazel ones as if it was real life. “I was waiting for your call.”

           “What can I expect, you are omnipotent.”

           God nodded.

           “So why did you do it? Was it a test? Or did you just need a good laugh?” Death said smugly crossing his arms.

           God chuckled. “What do you think? You know me just as well as all the other angels, and besides, when did you have a choice? You aren’t human.”

           Death shrugged. “It’s my job anyway so I don’t mind.” He smirked. “I must have looked like a complete fool.”

           “Cursing me didn’t help.”

           “What can I say, I’m neutral.”

           God let out a booming laugh. It was funny, because it was the truth. “I was just trying to make things interesting.”

           Mr. Reaper chuckled. “You always are.”

           “Well anyway, I’ve decided to make up for it.”

           “What do you mean?” Death asked, but when he blinked God wasn’t the imposing man anymore.

Now a beautiful girl in a sun dress with chestnut tresses sat on the edge of the desk. She had a kind of mischievousness about her while being blessed with innocence and the world’s knowledge all at the same time. “I sent you cookies,” She said sweetly.

He smiled and looked down at his desk top. There sat a gold tin. He glanced back up at the screen. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” God responded. “If you need me I’m going to go visit foster homes with presents from charity. I just love seeing children smile. Good bye,” and she skipped off the screen before it went black.

Mr. Reaper picked up the tin and opened it. Inside were large, golden brown walnut and chocolate cookies. He smiled. “My favorite.”

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Catching up briefly....

I saw:

Happy Go Lucky- It’s all about the interactions of a woman so giddily cheerful, joking and giggling incesently, that she actually makes her racist, angry, depressive, conspiracy theory nutcase of driving instructor seem sympathetic by comparision! Now she is at heart a good person, caring about others and all, but SHE WILL NOT SHUT UP!!!! 

Geez, I mean, I liked her for the first few minutes, recognizing myself in her trying to make friendly conversation with an unreceptive salesperson and laughing at the theft of her bike, but quickly you realize her lokking on the bright side is fucking unbearable! It’s hyper to the point of hysteria, and she pushes it no matter how the people around her feel about it. Is there a word for bullying through agressive optimisim?  The fact this Happiness Patrol escapee actually enjoys provoking her driving teacher until the guy snaps tells you something. So FINALLY she gets a glimpse of how instead of making him happier through her relentless blathering and kidding she has caused him pain. But I doubt it will change anything. Nothing wrong with being happy, treating the world as a joke, and so on BUT if someone isn’t responding don’t try to overwhelm them with more! 

She’s the person that irritates the hell out of you as you wonder how inebriated the must be. Realizing they a sober you smile at them, take a deep breath, and repeat in your mind that they mean well.

It’s like how tickling is fun and you laugh, but too much and it becomes torture....

The Dirty Dozen- During WWII the military decides to send a bunch of men serving time or awaiting execution on a suicide mission.  A few are given cases where you have to feel there convictions were unjust, like a black man who killed in self defense when violently attwcked by racists or the fella who just threw one punch against someone harassing him but was simply too strong, but another is a budding serial killer using a religious fanatic excuse. Yeah, this sounds like a great plan...

Act one is the getting to know them and bonding of these men as we are supposed to not dwell too much on most of the crimes. As usual, physical violence among them draws them together, the cliche that guys that pummel each other gain respect and become best buds through bloodshed. Then as a reward for playing nice their commanding officer gifts them a night unsupervised with a bunch of prostitutes, because tossing some oblivious women among men selected because they are convicted  muderers, rapists and so on seems a wise idea. 

This leads to act two, proving the team can do the job by having them defeating their officers arch enemy in a bit of war gaming. Cheating is naturally proof these are the ones the audience roots for, and they do have a point that actual war doesn’t play fair. 

Act three is the suicide mission with the most psycho among them causing the plan to go wrong. Who lives and who dies is easy to anticipate. The only fake out being a Nazi that fakes dead, but we know he’s alive, continues to fake dead in a very “audience, you know what I’m gonna do” way while one of the group linger about him, and then at the last moment of dramatic usefulness, leaps up and shoots that obvious target. The “fake out” being the target is only wounded and doesn’t get the dramatic death.  If the movie had been made a few years later they would have all died, and maybe a few years after that more would have lived, but for the era it went exacly as you’d  expect.

Yawn! You know, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m not a guy. I mean, there are bits I enjoyed or worked well for me. Bits. Mostly I rolled my eyes and shook my head. 

The Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of The Unearthly. First we get a demonstration from Joel an the Bots why making your own “humorous” accident videos for popular acclaim can end up a wee bit painful for the sucker, sorry, star. Then Mads show why I say the healthcare profession is packed with sadists with a display of nightmarish pills. There are two shorts, the first about improving child posture through continual nagging and peer harrassment. The next is to teach kids to appreciate that their parents do a lot of things to support them, in vintage gender role approved ways of course. Eventually we get to the film in which a mad scientist experiments with involuntary participation from folks supposedly in need of psychiatric care at his private clinic/home. Unfortunately he really is terrible at it, and instead of immortality the results tend towards the disappointing. Oh well, there is always someone else to give it a go with.....

It’s all really amusing, but considering my recent lack of sleep, I’m going to just quote the hulking henchman played by Tor Johnson: 

“Time for go to bed!”

[jmsa1287]

Drew Barrymore Adjusts to the New Normal on 'Santa Clarita Diet' Season 2

Hi i wrote about the very, very weird second season of Drew Barrymore’s “Santa Clarita Diet,” now on Netflix. 

The second season of the Drew Barrymore-starring comedy "Santa Clarita Diet," which hits Netflix Friday, is hands down the weirdest show of 2018.

That's not to say the first season of the show was not strange. But the sophomore installment is one wild ride.

"Santa Clarita Diet" Season 2 picks up right where the first season ended. Here's a quick refresher: Barrymore's Shelia Hammond, a mild-mannered suburban mother and real estate agent married to Joel Hammond (Timothy Olyphant), also a real estate agent, wakes up one morning feeling ill. After an intense vomit session, she pukes up a ball of flesh, dies and comes back to life as a zombie mom of sorts. She's not a mindless walker you'd see on "The Walking Dead" - she's still her bubbly self although some things have changed, most notably she now has an insatiable craving for human flesh.

At the end of Season 1, the Hammond family finds an ancient Serbian book that has a remedy for Sheila's condition, which is getting worse (body parts are falling off, her personality is morphing into a true monster and her quench for human meat is only getting stronger). The remedy won't cure Sheila but prevent her condition from progressing - the problem is the concoction requires the family to obtain vomit from a pure Serbian person. (I wasn't kidding about "Santa Clarita Diet" being weird). After a failed attempt at getting the vomit last season, Joel ends up in a mental institution and Sheila, who is growing more violent and may harm her daughter Abby (Liv Hewson) and her friend the boy genius Eric (Skyler Gisondo), is forced to be chained in the Hammond's basement.

Season 2 opens with Sheila still chained up and Joel still committed, leaving Abby solo to get her hands on some pure Serbian vomit before her mom goes from bad to worse. After some hijinks, and with the help of Craigslist, Abby gets the vomit, adds it to the remedy and gives it to Sheila, stopping the undead-ing process that will turn her mom into a full-fledged zombie.

Happy knowing that Sheila won't be getting worse, the Hammonds (plus Eric) now have to come to terms that she also won't be getting any better either. Most of "Santa Clarita Diet" Season 2 finds the family adjusting to their new normal - that Sheila will forever be a happy-go-lucky mom who feasts on humans. Joel and Abby, along with Eric, have to get use to the fact that Sheila will be gnawing on a human leg during dinner - this is simply their new way of life.

It's more complicated than it sounds, however, as Sheila needs to kill people in order to eat. (Eating animals or people who are already dead just won't do.) Killing people for food can be tricky and Sheila and Joel try to set guidelines and boundaries when deciding who will become Sheila's next meal. They try to target people they perceived to be bad (most notably this season, Sheila comes across a softball team of neo-Nazis). This is actually a pretty heavy concept - a philosophy NBC's Kristin Bell and Ted Danson sitcom "The Good Place" would explore in-depth. But "Santa Clarita Diet" treats it as an ongoing gag with no subtext or deep thought.

And that's mostly the problem with the comedy and its second season. Season 1 found Sheila embracing change, turning an ostensible tragic life-altering experience into something positive to reroute the course of her life. In its second season, the Hammonds bond closer as a family over Sheila's condition, but "Santa Clarita Diet" doesn't dig too deep into the mindsets of its characters or the philosophy they employ because of their new lifestyle. Instead, Season 2 pulls back, expanding the show's universe as the Hammonds discover that there are other people like Sheila and attempt to get to the bottom of how these Santa Claritaians became undead.

Still, "Santa Clarita" is completely watchable. Like Season 1, viewers' enjoyment will most likely depend on how much they like Barrymore, who carries the show with her hilarious and warm performance. For all of its OMG and whacky moments (talking heads, flesh-ball-spiders, neck-ripping scenes) "Santa Clarita Diet" can feel conventional at times. Its second season is entertaining enough, offering a few laugh-out-loud jokes every episode, making it a breeze for a weekend binge-watch - with episodes clocking in around or under 30-minutes, there are worse places to visit than the undead population of Santa Clarita.

[johnhardinsawyer]

On the Loose

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

5 / 31 / 20 – Pentecost Sunday

Acts 2:1-21

John 20:19-23

“On the Loose”

(The Church in the Wild Age of the Holy Spirit)

My Grandmother Sawyer didn’t have a mean bone in her body.  She tried to love everyone as best she could.  But every year when those geese started landing in her yard on their way to the little pond down the hill, Grandmother would get mad.  She tried everything from umbrellas, to noise makers, to a golf club (even though Grandmother never played golf).  But none of this stuff worked.  And those geese kept coming back again, and again, and again.  Somehow, they always knew where her house was.  It was almost like they always knew where she was.  She didn’t know where they came from or where they went, once they left her yard, but anyone could plainly see that my Grandmother had been visited by those wild geese.  They sure did leave a mess!  And if there was anything that Grandmother Sawyer didn’t like, it was a mess.

I don’t know if you knew this, but in the Celtic Christian tradition, the Holy Spirit is often compared to a wild goose.  As John Bell, the writer of today’s anthem, has been known to say, “The Holy Spirit is like a wild goose, because you don’t know exactly where it came from or exactly where it’s going, but it leaves a mess along the way.”[1]

The story of Pentecost, which we heard just a moment ago, is a strange story about how the Holy Spirit arrives and leaves a beautiful mess.  There is a wild goose on the loose and it goes by the name Holy Spirit.

Just prior to today’s reading, Jesus has ascended into heaven, but not before telling his disciples that the “Holy Spirit will come upon [them].” (Acts 1:8)  In the original language, the Holy Spirit will arrive and take hold of them, and have “power, authority, and control” over them.[2]  I don’t know if they’re ready for all of that, yet, though.  

Over the past fifty days or so, their lives have been turned upside down.  Their teacher and friend, Jesus –  with whom they had traveled for several years – has been violently killed and then miraculously raised from the dead and then amazingly ascended into heaven.  They used to have jobs and lives back home, but now they find themselves in the big city of Jerusalem – a place where they don’t feel too welcome.  They do have some cause to fear the authorities.  After all, Jesus died the death of a criminal and the followers of a so-called criminal wouldn’t necessarily be considered the most upstanding group of folks by the people in power.  Add to this the news that Jesus had risen from the dead – flaunting the very laws of nature in a powerful and mysterious way.  If such news were true, the whole world as people knew it would be turned upside down.

You know, sometimes when the world is being turned upside down, can feel good to do something that has a little predictability – something that puts some limits on the chaos of the world.  This is one reason why, in the middle of what has to be a very stressful time, the disciples hold an election for a new twelfth disciple to take the place of Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus.  So, they do what we often do:  get a nominating committee together and find two nominees and elect one of them – a guy named Matthias, who is never mentioned again in the Bible.[3]

Anyway, after they hold this decent and in-order election, they gather together in one place, in a house.  Eugene Peterson tells the story of what happens next:

Without a warning there was a sound like a strong wind, gale force – no one could tell where it came from.  It filled the whole building. Then, like wildfire, the Holy Spirit spread through their ranks, and they started speaking in a number of different languages as the Spirit prompted them.[4]

After spending however long together in that house, the Holy Spirit comes rushing into the building and sends them out into the street.  How quickly things can change!  The way that they have been operating – sitting there with one another, needing to be together, waiting for something to happen – changes, much to their surprise and the surprise of the whole city of Jerusalem.  What a wild and beautifully holy mess!

I mean, we should remember, that this is a bunch of fishermen, and women, and tax collectors and others – peasants, people on the margins of society – who now find themselves right in the middle of everything – taking center stage – speaking in different languages so that people from all over the world can understand God’s good news to them.  But this is not all.  Peter, an uneducated fisherman with his own set of doubts and denials when it comes to Jesus, becomes the spokesperson for this ragtag group, speaking eloquently to a huge crowd of people about who Jesus is and how the Spirit has now come.  Suddenly, as Peter says, because of the Holy Spirit, “people of all ages and stations in life are now able to come to understand and talk about God in new ways, to trust in Jesus, and to be saved.”[5]

The story of what happens on Pentecost is a strange story.  I mean, stranger things have happened to the disciples ever since they met Jesus, but now things are dramatically different – Jesus is no longer with them, everything is messier and more confusing.  God has overturned everyone’s expectations and then overturns them again.  It’s as if God cannot be predicted or contained (as if God could ever be predicted or contained to begin with).  The Holy Spirit is on the loose – and it is bringing a gift to all people:  the gift of being able to see and know and trust in God.  God is no longer in the hands of the chief priests and scribes and Temple walls and Tabernacles.  God’s Spirit of power is now – in this day and time – taking hold of each of us.  “In the last days,” Peter tells the crowd, quoting the prophet Joel from the Hebrew Bible, God “will pour out [God’s] Spirit upon all flesh. . .” (2:17)  God’s Spirit is poured out on everyone:  sons and daughters, young men and old men, even slaves (both men and women) – like rain that pours down upon the earth and causes everything to be fruitful – for life to be plentiful.[6]  God’s Spirit – the Holy Spirit – is here and now, within each of us, working through each and every person – uniting us to God and one another in mysterious and holy ways.

For my part, I don’t think that the Spirit could arrive at a better time.  According to Peter – and the prophet Joel, before him – the Holy Spirit arrives amidst signs in heaven above and the earth below. . .  some frightening images and events that cause people to turn to God and call on the name of the Lord to be saved.  I don’t fully know what to make of the language in today’s story about “blood and fire, and smoky mist” (2:19) and other things that will happen “before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day,” (2:20) but I do know that the world is still filled with troubles – events that reveal to the world our need for God’s help and healing and wholeness. . .  salvation.

As we find ourselves living through a global pandemic that is revealing the fault lines of our society, and economy and ability to trust one another; as we see shocking images of violence fueled by the sin of racism and injustice, white supremacy and white fragility, and black lives suffocated before our very eyes and brimming with outrage; and as we watch people around the world pointing fingers and laying blame instead of working together to find solutions to our common problems of inequality, and environmental degradation, and diseases that know no borders but threaten us all – I find myself longing for the Holy Spirit to work harder, to burn brighter, to blow even mightier throughout the world.

But then I remember that the Holy Spirit – like wild geese that fly through the sky in a “V” shape, helping each other along the way – the Holy Spirit does not fly solo.  First, the Holy Spirit is not alone in that it is always at work in, with, and through the with God the Creator and God the Redeemer – who are often called the “Father” and the “Son.”  And second, the Holy Spirit is not alone in that it is always at work through people – people who sometimes come from humble backgrounds, people who may be faltering in their faith, anxious people, worried people – people just like you and me.

Over the past several decades, different authors and thinkers have been wondering if the church and world are entering an Age of the Spirit[7] – a time in which different aspects of the church might be fading away, but a time in which the Holy Spirit is seen in a new way as people declare themselves to be “less religious but more spiritual.”  The writers who have been thinking about all of this could not have predicted a global pandemic that basically has shut down in-person worship services and other religious gatherings.  I find it especially ironic – perhaps, poetic in a spiritual sense – that we, as a congregation, are just putting the finishing touches on nearly $1,000,000 of renovations to our church building over the past five years, but now we cannot use our church building.  What could the Spirit be trying to tell us about the necessity of a church building for doing good in the world?  What if the Spirit is cutting us loose from the things that we used to think were so important so that we can focus on the things that truly are important, like the building of relationships, the ways that we are called to be connected to one another and to offer what we have and who we are to the world.  You see, the Spirit of God is alive in and through the people of God – even you and me in all of our uncertainty and in all of our messiness.

And, in the age of the Spirit, here is the Spirit, pushing us out into the world when all we want to do is stick together – pushing us out of our comfort zones and into acts of faith and hope and love. . . right where we need to be for God to use us for good.  What if, in doing this, God isn’t cutting us loose so much as God is setting us free?

I’ll close with this.  Today’s story from the Book of Acts is not the only Pentecost story in the Bible.  In today’s first reading from the Gospel of John, we find a shorter, quieter story.  The disciples all gathered together in one place.  They have locked all the doors because they are afraid of those in power.  And yet the resurrected Jesus – who cannot be contained by a sealed tomb, much less a locked door – comes into the room and stands among them and says, “Peace be with you.”  (John 20:19)  After the disciples have a moment to gather themselves, Jesus says, “Peace be with you,” again.  And then he says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  When he had said this, he breathed on them. . .  Now, I know that in this time when everyone is thinking about the coronavirus, the last thing we want is for someone to breathe on us.  “Not cool, Jesus,” we might think.  To which Jesus says, “Peace be with you. . . [Take a breath!]  Receive the Holy Spirit.”  (20:22)

If we would be followers of Jesus – if we would be the Body of Christ, the church – it would be good to remember that Jesus has sent us out of the closed and locked and fearful places and out into the world, and that we do not go alone.

The Holy Spirit of God is at work in and through you.  May the Spirit take hold of you and never let you go.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

----------

[1] I have heard John L. Bell say some version of this on various occasions at various workshops at Princeton Theological Seminary in Princeton, NJ, St. Andrews University in St. Andrews, Scotland, Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, GA, and at the Montreat Conference Center in Montreat, NC.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago:  University of Chicago Press, 1979) 287.

[3] Wayne Meeks, ed.  The Harper-Collins Study Bible (New York:  HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. 1993) 2059.  Note by Beverly Roberts Gaventa.

[4] Eugene Peterson, The Message – Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs:  NAV Press, 2002) 1494.  Acts 2:2-4.

[5] Acts 2:17-21 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[6] See Joel 2:23.

[7] Phyllis Tickle, Harvey Cox, and Jurgen Moltmann, among others.