#he ain’t wrong though since he survived multiple deaths

[happy-emmdings]

Give me a character that won’t hesitate to threaten a god or roll their eyes at infinitely powerful entities. Give me a character brave and foolish enough to stand up to fate and death itself. Honestly human hubris in the face of omnipotence is so sexy❤️

[maaji-maji-majima]

some kissing hcs for Majima?(if u can make it nsfw)

So I'm in a weird place with this. I don't want to leave you unanswered but I know you won't like the answer that I give. It has been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I'm not sure when along the timeline headcanon became synonymous with fanfiction. I appreciate fanfiction authors for their creativity, but I am not one myself. I use headcanon in the older definition of "this isn't in the source material, but it is true in my brain". They are either random things my half asleep mind thought of while walking home from work or a character analysis. At the same token your ask had crawled into my brainmeats and won't leave. So again, I apologize that this most definitely is not what you're looking for, but I hope someone out there finds this to be an interesting read.

Without further introduction, here is a character analysis of our favorite pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin in regards to relationships and why the he desperately needs therapy as brought to you by a different pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin who got therapy but probably needs more.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, self harm, mental disorders, poor coping strategies, unhealthy relationships, random tense changes, not fanfiction

Spoilers for the whole franchise, but very specifically for 0, K1, and 5.

Abuse does weird things to people's brains. In Yakuza 0 Majima has barely been out of the hole for a year. He might no longer be suffering the actual physical torture he had been subjected to the year prior, but he is still directly in the hands of his abusers and being watched every moment. He is still in a cage even if it doesn't look like one. He is depressed and likely suicidal, but doesn't follow through with those thoughts because he is determined to make sure Saejima has a home to come back to. He is willing to endure just about anything to allow Saejima a chance to exact that final moment of retribution because Saejima is the one who deserves it and Majima doesn't feel that there is any possibility for forgiveness. In all likelihood he hasn't sought out anyone for a hookup or paid company for an evening due to a combination of not feeling like he deserves anything that feels good and the fact that he's constantly being watched. The year in hole means he no longer really has a concept of privacy, but he's worried that getting close to someone, even for a few moments, could put them in danger if Sagawa or Shimano feels like holding something else over his head. It isn't worth accidentally dragging someone into his own personal hell. He no longer lives for the present, he is only living for that far-off future that he hopes isn't just a pipe dream.

Enter Makoto. At first she is a stand-in for Saejima's sister Yasuko, but it morphs rapidly from there. She is the light and kindness and hope that he hasn't seen in years and she's being dragged into his bullshit. He knows in his heart of hearts that she doesn't deserve what she is being forced into, so his mind snaps into the immediate and does everything he possibly can to save her. This is is the hill he wants to die on. Maybe, just maybe, he can end his miserable existence with a final act of good and he feels that Saejima might just be able to understand. But because he no longer has any relationships in his life that are not strictly professional or the abusers he cannot escape, he has little recollection of what a nuanced relationship or even friendship is any longer. Due to circumstance she is also the only person that he cannot keep at arm's length, no matter how desperately he tries. So he falls for her and falls hard. But in the end, after everything they go through he does the impossible. He lets her go. She has a life and a future, whereas he has neither of those. What would she do? Become his ane-san? Have some temporary happiness before she realizes she has a target on her back for the rest of her life? No. Majima believes she deserves so much more than that even though it hurts him deeply. What is one more hurt on top of everything else? He's gotten extremely good at burying his pain.

Getting to Tokyo flips a switch in Majima's brain. Like many people with mental trauma who don't have access to therapy he falls into excess as a way of self medicating. He fits virtually everything on the hedonism checklist. Drinking? Yeah. Violence? Hell yeah! Promiscuity? Yeah, but I ain't judging. Drugs? Probably, even though it isn't explicitly stated in game. Everything from his shift in personality to his wardrobe has become, intentionally or not, a defense mechanism. He has escaped from all of his abusers except for Shimano and he refuses to allow anyone to gain that kind of power over him again.

It is a double edged sword, however. His depression and PTSD are running unchecked. In all likelihood he hasn't fallen hard on vices as a way to reclaim ownership off his own body. Instead it seems more probable that he is dissociating. After everything he has been through he doesn't care what happens to his body in the long run because it isn't actually his anymore. Risky behavior, which is practically Majima's middle name, is also frequently used as a passive form of self harm because the end result is either temporarily feeling better thanks to endorphins and adrenaline or permanently feeling better after embracing death. He could achieve a similar feeling by taking up jogging and chasing a runners high, but that takes more time and energy than chugging a handle of whiskey or goading some chump into throwing hands. Sadly even now admitting to mental problems by seeking help is fairly stigmatized in Japan and it was only worse in the early 90s. Can't have a problem if no one tells you it's there, right?

Then he meets Mirei. She's intense but not wild like Majima. At that moment in time she is everything he needs. Head strong, domineering, and very, very determined. She knows exactly what buttons to press to wrap him right around her finger. And he lets her take the reigns, lets her run his life because he realizes he was doing a terrible job on his own. Better her than Shimano, right? Doing something wrong results in the cold shoulder instead of a vicious beating, and doing something right leads to more than simply the relief of avoiding a beating. He decides that making her happy is enough to make him happy. Until suddenly it isn't. He never wanted to be a father, but even the idea that he could have been was enough to cause a fundamental shift in his entire outlook on life. He could have had someone to live for, instead of just survive for. But he had no say in the matter and didn't know until the decision had been made for him. When Mirei told him she had an abortion he snapped. He hit her. The one and only time he raised his hands against her. Disgusted with himself, and wounded by her decision, he left. If he was capable of that, he knew couldn't be the person she had been trying to mold him into. He realized he was nothing but a weight around her neck dragging her down. And so that day signals the end of their short marriage. He spends the next several decades drowning in guilt for his actions while still resenting her for her choice.

That leaves us with Kiryu. Poor, oblivious Kiryu. Majima's fixation is multifaceted but in no small part due to the fact that Kiryu is one of the few people strong enough to hurt him, but is the only one that doesn't want to. And Majima just doesn't understand. After everything, he only deserves to hurt, right? Saejima, Yasuko, Makoto, Mirei. Everyone who gets too close to him ends up worse for it, so why won't Kiryu and his sense of honor seek justice on their behalf? So he does everything he possibly can to wind up Kiryu enough to Pay Attention Damnit, Fight Me. But Kiryu's response is always just flustered awkwardness because he doesn't want like fighting, it's just a part of his job, like wearing a suit or answering a phone. To Kiryu fighting isn't a thing done because it's enjoyable, it's done because it has to be. But he's still the only one who doesn't flinch when Majima brandishes a knife inches from his face.

And then Kiryu is arrested and in jail for ten years. And ten years is a long time to build someone up onto a pedestal. Like only wanting to talk about the best of a person after they've died. The same thing happened with Saejima. Build them in his mind to what he wants or needs them to be since they are not there to actively correct it. The decade is pretty miserable, going through the motions and trying to not make waves with the bigwigs while terrifying the minions into obedience. When he hears Kiryu is being released it is like waking up again. He all but waits at the taxi stand at the entrance of Kamurocho on the day of Kiryu's release, all but vibrating with excitement. It's a fight he has been waiting on for a decade, too bad it was little more than a disappointment.

So Majima decides to bring him back up to spec in that very Majima flavored way. Small fights, big fights, surprise fights. Kiryu is still reluctant because he doesn't have a reason beyond Majima's dreamed up training program he doesn't actually want to be a part of. Of course this only leads Majima to do everything possible to get under Kiryu's skin, including sharing his personal vulnerabilities while disguising them as jokes just to cause fights, but Kiryu just kind of rolls with it which leads to confusion and frustration on both sides. After a while Majima starts to get into Kiryu's hobbies, like pocket circuit, ostensibly as another form of picking a fight. And he discovers he actually enjoys a lot of it. And they are both too dense and emotionally stunted to realize they're basically dating at this point. At multiple points Majima takes potentially lethal blows meant for Kiryu and the excuse that he is the only one allowed to kill Kiryu is very, very thin. He just can't quite admit out loud that he doesn't want to see Kiryu truly hurt because that's weakness and he is Not Weak (tm).

Shimano's death and Kiryu's departure from the clan come as a whirlwind that destroys him all over again. He's left directionless. So he leaves the Tojo in an attempt to find his own way in the world, for the first time in over twenty years.

I think I need to call it here for now. I know I've left out Saejima and Daigo, among others, but I've been working on this for days and my progress has been eaten twice and I just don't have the energy to keep going right at this time. Maybe some day in the future I'll find the time and energy to write out the rest for all the other games.

tl;dr What Majima wants and what he needs are two different things. He wants to fightfuck, but he needs to be bear hugged into submission so that he can have that mental breakdown he's been carefully bottling up for over thirty years. He needs a good, ugly cry. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

[danihow]

Pocket Clock

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Situated in the 1940s, before the war

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Word Count: 3.3k is it too much? Idk.

Warnings: Angst, pretty much just angst, sadness, a bit of fluff before that because there isn’t angst without fluff and I tried not to but couldn’t, it’s also themed in 1940′s if that counts as a warning.

Summary: You remember how you and Bucky fell in love before he departed to war, before he left he gifted you something so you knew that any time soon he will come back to you. Yet, he never did.

A/N: This one-shots is part of a challenge i entered hosted by @stuckonjbbarnes ​ and consists about an Angst vs. Fluff Challenge but is out of usual so my Song prompt is “Electric Love” by BORNS but to turn it angsty (you will find quotes of the song in a different font around the os) and everything and i thought: “Why not?” so here I am, anyway, I’m not fully pleased with the final product but what can we do. Damn, this is so bad.

Yet again, gif ain’t mine.

You remembered him too clearly to be healthy. You remembered the details on his face, you remembered the look on his eyes when something wasn’t right, when he wanted to go, when he was happy; you remembered the little wrinkles by the side of his eyes each time he laughed. You remembered the man you once loved, Bucky Barnes. 

You two met each other on a bus stop, he was going to get his friend and you were heading to work. You remembered it, it was on October 15th, 1941; you didn’t knew the time and the streets where way too light up by sunlight for it to be as early as you wanted it to be.

You had looked at him, he was tall in comparison of others, with his brown hair styled firmly yet not too much so a couple of strand fell on his face, wearing formal work black pants, a white shirt, a black vest that matched his pants and no tie. “Excuse me, sir.” You muttered to him, earning his attention, “Do you know what time it is?” You had asked, he nodded and took his pocket clock out, looking at it quickly.

“Its 6:21 in the morning, ma’am.” He said with simplicity and you thanked him in an impatient nod looking again to the road in case the bus finally showed up.

You remembered how that was your first word exchange, yet the only in the first times you’d seen each other. It wasn’t until six days later that he sat by your side on the bus, finally gathering up the courage to talk to you.

He got to you with that charming smile and confident eyes, but deep inside he was nervous to mess it up with the nurse that asked him for the time once and got him charmed.

“Good morning ma’am”, those were his first words after you smiled at him back, taking it as his cue to continue talking. Starting to chat with you about everything he could possibly think of, like your job, his job, the reason why you looked so impatient with your time the other day and a bunch of other things.

It still came to your mind how after that day, each morning, he was the one sitting by your side on bus, or standing near you when the bus was full. How even if it was crowded he managed to establish a conversation with you, it could last a minute or maybe the whole ride and it could be about everything, the weather, the news or the war.

“Candy, she’s sweet like candy in my veins.”

You could as well remember how the two of you were talking about food when he suggested to go for a brunch someday, you had thought it was a great idea. And that’s just how it happened, both of you agreed to meet for lunch on Saturday, that same Saturday. It was your day off and he didn’t worked until two.

The moment was still vivid in your mind, you got to the café on the corner near the bus stop and smiled at him once you saw him sat on one of the tables at the side of the window. 

He had greeted you with a small hi that you thought, maybe you’d imagined, was a little shy and nervous, but his eyes showed all the opposite, you may have portrayed your nervousness on him.

You didn’t knew about what he thought, but you counted that day as your very first date, he ordered some coffee with a weird patisserie and you settled with a smoothie and a croissant. 

The next time he asked you out on what he called “a date”, taking you out for dinner at a restaurant that was not fancy yet not plain, just perfect for the two of you. You could probably highlight that night as one of the best you had in your life, after dining the both of you walked around Brooklyn, surrounded by a comfortable atmosphere while talking about everything and anything, learning about his past, his friend Steve and how they have been stuck to each other since childhood, just as how he learned about yours, how you lived with your grandmother since the death of your parents in an accident. Talking and talking until both of you arrived your home, knowing it was time to say goodbye.

Yet you knew, deep inside, you will see him again on another date and let me tell you, you weren’t wrong. In a matter of two months the both of you had went on an approximately of four dates, and you remember each one of them. You went dancing in all of them and boy was he a good dancer. 

“And every night my mind is running around her.”

Each day, either on the bus or on dates, you fell a little bit more for him, for his smile, his eyes, for the way he called you “doll”, how he looked at you and only you. You were falling madly in love with him.

And your first kiss? God, you wouldn’t forget about it in a billion years. Both of you were walking home after a date, your sixth date, he took you to get dinner and then you went to the fair, he won a teddy bear for you and as always, when both of you got to your home he stood there, hands in his pockets and a boyish smile in his face.

“Thunder’s getting louder, and louder, and louder.”

“I really like passing time with you.” He admitted while looking at you, dare in the eye.

“Then I think it’s mutual, Bucky.” You answered with a smile, noticing how he stepped closer to you, slow steps until he was a few inches away from you, his face looking down to you with that charming sided-smile. 

“Oh really?” He asked in some playful tone, getting even closer. “Then... I hope this will be too.” His voice was now lower as he leant closer to you with each word till your faces were less than two inches away. He waited for a second, to make sure you didn’t stepped back; when you did not he felt relieved and finally met your lips with his, passing his left arm around your waist as his right hand grabbed gently your chin, rising it so he didn’t had to lean too much. Your hands stood on his chest, he was sure you could feel his hurrying heartbeat but he didn’t cared, not when he got to kiss you like that.

“Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle.”

After the kiss ended and he greeted you goodnight as you entered the house with a dumb smile on your face and he left back to his place with a smile just as big and dumb as yours.

You saw each other multiple times after that, now in a different way, was it on the bus, the street, on dates or just walking you home after work.

But then, things started to get complicated. This phase started before he formally asked you to be his girlfriend, because he never did; Bucky was standing at your doorstep, uniformed. “I may have joined the army.” You eyebrows frowned a bit but then smiled, he looked happy for it. You hugged him, happy for him. “I’m departing to England tomorrow morning.” He said after a while, still holding you in his arms.

Then it hit you, Bucky was going to war, he was going far away from you to fight for your country against Nazis, he was going to risk his life day to day, exposing himself to damage, to trauma, to death. You knew from first-hand experience how it damaged men, you saw it every-day in the hospital hallways, you saw men whose life was not the same, it would never be the same, men that fought with their lives to survive even though it meant their mates will die, these men lost themselves in battle and their scars went further than just physical damage. War caused emotional scars that with every second passed they carved a little bit more in their hearts until their old selves were gone, and your Bucky was going to it.

You moved back a bit, enough to look directly at his face. He knew what crossed your mind the moment you locked eyes with him. “I'll come back to you, doll", he reassured to you and you nodded, wanting to convince yourself to believe in him. "I promise." Both of you knew the weight a promise like that had but he was willing to take it over his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky and you decided to appreciate your very last time together, he had already talked to his best friend, Steve, he was the first to know after his sister and then it was you. You let him in, your Grandma was asleep on the second floor so the living room was really silent. He’d sat on the couch by your side as you came from the kitchen with two cold beers and some snacks. 

That night was a mix of everything. You two were sat really close to each other, cherishing the moment. He took the last sip of his beer and left the empty bottle on the table before passing an arm over your shoulder, dragging you closer to him until he pressed a kiss on your hair. “I’m going to miss you, doll.” He muttered against your hair and you looked at him. Both of you were nostalgic but trying really hard to enjoy every second. 

“I’ll miss you too.” You said, looking at his blue eyes and making him smile, he leaned close enough to place a little kiss on your lips. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“I hope you will.” He said after giving you another kiss, this one was a bit longer yet slow and sweet. The rest of the evening you two cuddled together on the sofa until the clock hit 11 o’clock, he had to go. Bucky and you stayed on the doorstep for a bit longer you should had, plus no one could blame you for that, you didn’t wanted to say goodbye, not yet. 

“I want you to keep this.” He muttered, handing you his pocket clock, the one he used to tell you the hour the day you’ve met. “My father gave it to my mother during the first war, he promised to come back and get it afterwards. He did. Now I’m giving it to you as my promise to come back to you.” He said as you took it carefully in your hands. Then he kissed you one last time before going.

He departed early in the morning, when you woke up you looked at clock he gave you, it was a quarter to five in the morning, and he had went to England half an hour ago. You sighed and stood up to get ready for work.

You received the first letter a couple of week’s letter, he told how everything was going and how much he missed his doll. 

And that’s how it went, he sent you letter every couple of weeks and for each one you received you sent another. Even your grandma talked about how his husband never did such a thing back in the time for her. 

Suddenly the letters stopped coming but you kept sending them with the hope he will write you back, but he didn’t for a whole of four or six months. Yet you received a letter from England, his commanding officer was the one who sent it. Recalling that you were on the list the soldiers left him to write to in case they disappeared and that James Buchanan Barnes went MIA. Missing in action.

Bucky had went missing and your heart broke for the very first time. 

“I can’t let you go now that I got it”

You didn’t knew what to do, what to think, not even what to feel, you wanted to feel hope because he was not dead yet, but a part of you wanted to stick with the idea of never going to see him again, your only uncle went MIA during the Great War and he never came back home. 

You still remember the bitter sweetness you felt for the next couple of days, maybe weeks, you checked your mail everyday hoping to find more that the bills but didn’t. Then, when you were about to lose hope, you received a letter, from him. 

You didn’t waited to get in the house to open, no, you ripped the letter open right in front of the mailbox and read it.

“And all I need is to be struck...”

My Y/n,

Doll, I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry of causing you grief while missing but now I’m okay. I swear.

Steve rescued me and I swear he was smaller before enlisting; I’m now grateful with him for that, but well, you know I have been grateful for having him as my best friend even before all this.

I thought about you every time I could, I was trying so hard not to forget anything about you yet still forgot the sound of your laugh, I hope I can see you soon doll, I hope this things ends any time soon so I can be back at my Brooklyn with you and safe in your arms like that last night at your place. God I miss you, doll, and i don’t even know if you’re still waitig for me, I just pray you are.

Unfortunately I’ll be gone for a while more, but I’ll be alive, I promise. Take care doll.

“By your electric love.”

With love, 

       Your Bucky.

He hadn’t signed any of his past letter as Your Bucky before, yet, the one paged letter was enough to relieve a weight from your shoulders, he was save and sound, that Steve found him, god, now you were in debt with Steve and you didn’t even knew him. Now everything was alright.

But geez, were you wrong.

After a while you received a call, not a letter, and it was from Steve, not from Bucky.

“Y/N L/N” You had answered.

“Good night, Ms. L/N.” The voice on the lie was unfamiliar, it was a british woman with a sweet voice. “It’s Peggy Carter.”

“Oh, alright, Ms. Carter.” You nod to yourself. “What can I do for you?” 

But there wasn’t an answer, you heard arguing on the background, just as if she put her hand on the speaker to talk to somebody else. “I must be the one to tell her, Peggy.” A male voice said before the phone shifted hands. “Good night ma’am, it is Steve Rogers.”

“Mr. Rogers?” You frowned your brows in confusion. “Why are you calling sir? Where’s Bucky?” You’d asked, receiving only an exhausted, sad sigh as an answer. 

“Mr. Rogers, where’s Bucky?” You asked again, starting to worry a little bit, his last letter was three months ago and this was not the way you expected to know from him.

“He... We were on a train.” He started and your heart started pounding harder on your chest, “There was an explosion in the wagon and he ended hanging outside of it, right over a cliff.” No. “I tried my best to get him, I swear I did ma’am, I’m so sorry.” You heard him starting to stutter and your eyes starting watering, that was the moment you realized, you loved Bucky Barnes. You heard the man on the line clear his throat “He fell of the train miss, he’s dead.” This man’s voice has heavy, pained and full of guiltiness.

You didn’t answered, you weren’t able to. First, how could you answer? Even if you tried there were not words coming out of your mouth, you throat shut down in shock. “I know it’s not the way you should get know, it’s not. But there is no other way to tell you. I’m sorry.” The man, Steve, muttered to the phone as he heard dead silence on the line.

“I... I’m sorry, Steve.” You said with rivers of silent tears falling down your cheeks. “I know he was your best friend, I’m sorry too.” You muttered, sitting on the couch beside the telephone. 

“You shouldn’t be the one sorry, miss.” He whispered, you could tell he was about to cry but didn’t spoke about it.

“Call me Y/N. It’s not quite time for formalities.” You’d said trying to light the atmosphere. “I-I’m going to hang up, good night.” You said after a silence.

A good night was all you heard before hanging up. You couldn’t hold it anymore, the tears had ruined the makeup you wore for work and you cried your heart out. You didn’t knew why it hurt the way it did, you weren’t a couple, he was not even your boyfriend. You heart felt squeezed like a sponge, you could’ve swore you felt how it cracked at the pain became harder as the lump in your throat grew until it ached. It hurt much more badly that it should’ve, you shouldn’t be crying so much for a man you “barely” knew, but there you were, your sobs and whimps were so loud that your grandma came down the stairs to check on you, finding a heartbreaking scene. But what else could you do back then, you just lost the man you loved without being his girlfriend at least.

Now, sixty eight years after the end of the war, and seventy-one since you lost him on that Austrian Alpes, you were sitting on the balcony of your room at your son’s house, contemplating the big modern and reconstructed city that raised above you as you played with a really old but cared pocket watch between your fingers. You had just come from visiting Peggy at her house, the Alzheimer was getting worse every day that passed and you couldn’t help but thank god you still at least had her. 

You now knew Steve was alive, and since then you started thinking that maybe, just maybe, Bucky could still be too. It was impossible, but if he was, now you were seventy years older, with heart problems, white hair and wrinkles. You’ve lived a long and happy life next to another man, a man that Peggy introduced you in 1949, Jack Thompson, and by his side you had three children, April, Daniel and James. 

Yet, you still wondered how it could’ve been, how it all could’ve went if he hadn’t fell off that train, if you didn’t fell in love with him, if he didn’t enlisted, if you didn’t had asked for the time that morning when the bus was late. 

It all would’ve hurt less, yes, but then you wouldn’t have the life you had, the amazing people you met after the war, Peggy, Daniel, Howard, the Howling Commandos, Steve, Jack.

You still remembered everything, and if you forgot, you just grabbed your notebook, the notebook where you wrote all your story with Bucky and what followed afterwards, the notebook were you kept all your letters and an old photo with him at the fair. The notebook where a part of your heart lived, a notebook dedicated to Bucky Barnes.

[pennhursts]

The Arc of Jane “El” Ives/Hopper/Byers

This post will detail her specific character, and why I think her story will end on a bittersweet (heavy on the bitter) note.

But let me make it clear, and say that this is in no way what “will” happen in the next season(s) of stranger things. I’m not a writer on the show, and I can’t say with any certainty that this is “confirmed” or what have you. This is purely my own speculation from a narrative standpoint, and if it isn't to your taste, that's cool, because my take doesn't matter too much.

Oh, El. 

Beyond her minimal arc in season one, where her narrative purpose was to show the very serious effects of abuse and manipulation on the part of Brenner, as well as her opening of the gate, her multi-season development has been heading in a very specific, obvious place. Self-actualization and becoming her own person, separate from the lab.

I think a lot of casual watchers came away from season 3 with sort of a “okay,, what now?” type of attitude, and I can’t say that I blame them. Both in season two and three she’s been given the journey of self discovery (with Kali,  then Max) and while both carry their own emotional weight, they don’t seem to be held up as important plot lines in comparison to others, such as Max opening up emotionally, and Steve Harrington’s entire season 2 redemption being especially apt examples. As the audience, we are told that El is coming into her own, multiple times, but we are never actually shown long-lasting effects of this, instead opting for one-off easter egg references and her many, many wardrobe changes (which I adore, by the way).

In season one, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas’s stories are all somewhat the same; finding Will and accepting El as their friend. But when you look at season two, everyone has their own different, independent directions to go in. Especially if you focus on every other party member. Dustin & Lucas’s arc’s revolve around love; for Lucas in specific, becoming a more emotionally open, compassionate person. This is vital to his development and subsequent relationship with Max. And as for Dustin, well, he learns that Steve ain’t shit with women, but he gains a valuable relationship in him, even though he doesn’t ‘get the girl’. Will struggles (per usual), primarily with the trials and tribulations of possession-- along with his PTSD. Mike, time and time again shows symptoms of major depression and separation anxiety, his feelings for El having become nearly codependent. Max’s story lies in her horrible family life & opening up, the latter being something her and Lucas share in common. And El’s.... is focused on self acceptance, “who” she is; her familial history. And it was done again in s3. She’s shown who she can be by Max, but she’s still defined by her powers, and by extension her life in Hawkins Lab. I am of the belief that the Upside Down will take a backseat in Season Four, so that the human villains of Dr. Brenner and MKultra can really shine. Brenner was hinted at having survived the demogorgon for a reason, and I’m excited to see where it’ll go, and how it will affect El as a character.

Listen. It would be entirely amiss to not reference her on-again off-again boyfriend, Mike Wheeler. The short version of my thoughts on their relationship (in relation to her arc) is... it isn't meant to last. The long version is that all the charm that their childhood love held fully disappeared come season 2. I'm not saying this because I hate El or Mike, or because I prefer Mike with Will. I side eye their specific relationship because if the Duffer Brothers Incorporated™️ love anything, it’s a slow burn. I won’t get too into it in this post, but seeing as Jopper, Jancy, and even Lumax all had romantic “rivals” in their way,, the fact that Mileven just.... doesn’t? Well, it makes me suspicious. The “endgame” romantic relationships on the show are always flawed in ways that are fixable and realistic, fixed through personal development and communication. But Mike and El haven’t been on the same page since season 1, and if my speculation does end up holding some water, they won’t be seeing eye-to-eye dating wise until they’re broken up for good. Anyways, on with the meta. Sorry for that very long side-bar.

It’s not rare to read people clamoring for El to do a myriad of things to truly “become her own person”, like breaking up with Mike for good and sticking with Max, or staying with Mike and not being Max’s friend anymore, etc. 

(it’s funny how all of these have really nothing to do with El as a human being, just a participant in a relationship. makes you think, huh?) 

I see people wanting her to develop *more*, and while it’s a valid want, I don’t see it happening the way people expect. The duffers aren't trying to flesh her out at all, as I don’t think she was never meant to be the character of a young girl. Rather, she was meant to be a tragic example of parental abuse and science going too far, her story ending with her death at the end of season one. This initial story is a *tragic* one, which is why I think she's doomed (I have a very strong gut feeling that the series finale will *heavily* mirror season one’s, though my proof is non-existent. just a feeling) Her arc, sad as it is, might be that she never will get to be a normal child, or not for as long as she should. And that's really sad... but also very complex writing which I appreciate.

Here’s where things get sad. In the end, while she may come fully into her own, neither powers or abuse victim defining her, I feel her resolved arc will be short-lived. I think El, ultimately, will end up repeating history. Her fatal flaw of caring too much for the people around her will truly be fatal, and so I think she will ultimately sacrifice herself so that Hawkins will finally be rid of the Upside Down, for good. 

Which is exactly the type of heartbreaking thing that I could see them (the writers) doing.

But who knows, maybe they’ll do what they did in season one and hint that she’s not gone after all. Or I'm completely wrong and she’ll live through the finale. Either way, thanks for reading :)

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 5: Every Elite

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

When the Pack refuses to help them Taylor and Ryder turn to the lone wolf Cal as a last resort. He’s happy to provide for a simple favor: break into New Orleans’ most exclusive supernatural club to save his little brother from a fate worse than death. Easy, right? If only.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor’s craft is made to be seen. He’s never been one of those types of actors who needs to imagine the entire audience empty to perform at his best. In fact, the larger the crowd the more he feels like they’re a mass of bodies and heartbeats than individuals he’s there to perform for.

The audience swells and becomes one single, solid beating heart — one mind and one capacity for emotion that he’s there to bring out. That’s his talent.

But he has a great respect for those who prefer the silence and solitude to hone their skills. They aren’t performing for anyone but themselves — improving despite the temptation to stay stagnant for their own sakes.

The piano player is one such artist. He’s no performer — no showman. Taylor’s pretty sure the man doesn’t even know he has a sole audience. Yet he keeps playing; rapid keystrokes never faltering to break the miasma of humidity that hangs over them.

He cuts into the world with his playing and knows the spaces left aren’t empty, but rather filled with melody.

Either the song — not one he recognizes — ends or the man simply decides to stop playing. Either way the tune ends abruptly; a life cut short. And he’s so taken by how it resonates in his chest that he does the only logical thing and applauds.

The piano player swings a denim-clad leg over the stool; stares at Taylor like a startled animal.

He probably shouldn’t have announced himself so loudly.

“S-Sorry if I scared you.”

The look he’s given — the threat assessed and deemed non-threatening — is definitely unimpressed.

“Yeah that’s… definitely not what happened.” Like the rest of the wolves the man inhales deeply through his nostrils. Unlike the rest of them he manages a bit of tact and doesn’t noticeably recoil. “Jesus, you smell like…”

“A hot mess, yeah I’ve been told.”

That gets a laugh and the man’s full attention — long legs swinging around away from the piano with elbows resting on jeans that have definitely seen better days. He’s the polar opposite of everything in the trophy room; nothing fancy about him except for his obvious skill with the piano.

It’s kind of nice for someone else to stick out like a sore thumb for a change.

“Nah, that ain’t it — well not all the way.” He sniffs again with his face tilted up into the air and Taylor really really tries not to laugh. Doesn’t know if he’ll somehow offend the entire Pack or something if he does. Ryder really should have given him the low-down…

“You smell like…”

Taylor waits for an answer but none comes. Sees the way the working man’s tan seems to drain from his face and leave behind something strange; almost haunted in his eyes.

Suddenly he really wishes he’d just gone with Ryder.

“Never mind.” Taylor tries to back track — moves to get up and hang out by the bottom of the stairs instead. But there’s a hand that stops just short of grabbing him that makes them both tense up.

Now he looks like the frightened animal.

“I offended you.” It’s not a question.

“What’s there to be offended about?”

The piano player brushes aside one of his mousy brown curls; looks Taylor in the eyes with such a startling honesty that he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second.

“I don’t know,” is the measured reply, “you tell me.”

Well that isn’t happening, so… “Tell me what you were gonna say.”

The wolf leans back — gives them both some space. Shrugs and seems almost sheepish instead.

“A-ha… well I was gonna say you smell like my little brother. Then I realized how weird that sounded since, y’know, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before. One of those ‘quit while you’re ahead’ things.”

He rubs the back of his head. Shoulders hunched and a measly half-smile that’s disarmingly charming. Sure Taylor’s still confused (even more so now) but it’s better than the assumed alternative.

But he does turn away from the door at the very least.

“Gonna tell me exactly how that works?”

“What d’you mean?”

“How I, uh, smell like your little brother?”

“Well puberty ain’t exactly a science to the nose.”

Puberty. God, he actually laughs. Feels even more ashamed about the obvious sweat stains on his underarms but given where they are it’s not the worst of the multiple stenches in the air.

The man continues on a borderline ramble; “And I’m gonna go ahead and assume most people wouldn’t want to be compared to a pre-pubescent teenager, you know? So then I really didn’t wanna say anything.”

It’s the most genuine interaction he’s had since all of this began — and he didn’t know how much he needed it until now. Ivy, Garrus, Krom; they were all so so great but they loved talking about it all; loved delving into the things weird and strange that Taylor was still trying to wrap his head around.

But sniffing put aside there’s nothing more casual than not knowing what to say in front of a cute guy. Talk about your ordinary problems.

“Cal — by the way — Cal Lowell.”

Taylor takes Cal’s offered hand in that usual way — pressing just a little too hard to affirm his masculinity that he’s so often okay with shrugging away from the surface. It’s how men — and Southern men especially — interact. He’s kind of an expert on the matter.

But Cal’s grip is stronger than other men. Something Taylor just accepts along with the almost sizzling heat of his body radiating from just the palm. Must be a werewolf thing.

“Taylor Hunter.”

“Who brought you along for the party, Taylor?”

Man it’s nice to hear his name instead of ‘kid.’ “Oh, actually —”

His reply is drowned out by the sudden slam of a door above them; followed by thundering footsteps and shouts that were quickly becoming not-so-muffled.

“I knew you were stupid, Ryder, but if you think I’m just gonna push all you done aside and let you come onto my territory demandin’ favors you’ve got less brain in ya than I thought!”

“Christ, Kristof, tuck your damn tail and listen to me, will ya?!”

Cal squeezes a little too hard — makes Taylor yank his hand away. But when he goes to ask the guy what the hell it looks like he’s staring straight through him.

“Shit,” hisses Cal under his breath; and swerves around Taylor rather than pushing him aside to join the argument quickly approaching them.

The man who must be Kristof is hairy. That’s all Taylor can really think of him at first glance. He’s tall but not Krom-level of tall (his new measurement standard) and wide-set in the shoulders with muscle and scars both old and new criss-crossing one another down his exposed arms.

Add a little white to his bushy beard and he could be a budget-mall Santa, Taylor thinks.

Then he catches Ryder leaping down the steps two at a time to catch up.

“If you weren’t gonna hear me out then why agree to meet with me in the first place?” snaps the Nighthunter; teeth grit and knuckles white on the banister.

He’s got height on Kristof, being a few steps higher and all, but he might as well be facing down a charging bull with the way the Pack Alpha rounds on him in red-faced fury.

“Figured it was about time you apologized for what you did to poor Jimbo,” and the fact he isn’t shouting definitely dials the tension up to eleven, “but what’s a lit’le more blood on yer hands?”

Taylor doesn’t have to ask who ‘poor Jimbo’ was. Can get enough from the context. And while he doesn’t want to get involved in something that was before he came along he’s be remiss if he didn’t feel uneasy at the thought of his bodyguard as a killer.

But didn’t that mean he’d kill to keep Taylor safe?

Ryder recoils enough for Kristof to gain the advantage; come up a step so they’re eye-to-eye.

“Don’t you gimme that fake remorse. Not in my home. Ain’t a word in Jimbo’s mem’ry — ‘stead you waltz up in here demandin’ favors?! When you ain’t even got the balls —!”

“Whoa whoa — hey!”

Cal realizes it’s a bad move just a moment too late. Octavia settles her grip on the second floor railing and looks down with a jaw set and proverbial hackles raised. But that’s nothing compared to how Kristof looks at him — goes from red to purple in the face at the mere sight of Cal.

“You stay outta this, boy.”

“Kristof — I just think —”

His reaction has to be purely werewolf. Something real wolves can’t imitate but humans could never understand. Keeps Taylor enraptured as he starts to realize he’s been thinking about them all wrong; that there is no place where the man ends and the wolf begins — but rather that they’re one in the same.

Kristof’s muscles ripple under thick skin. Something shifts on the stale air like a breeze and in less time than it takes a heart to beat Cal’s backing down with his head to the floor.

Baring the back of his neck.

He’s given Kristof an inch and the Alpha takes a mile. Advances a step just to make sure Cal backs off in a strange and unspoken dance.

“I’d say given your predicament, Lowell, challengin’ your Alpha is the last thing you wanna be doin’.”

Cal doesn’t have to say anything to agree. Even when he raises his head he won’t — or can’t — meet Kristof’s eyes.

Before he does something (else) stupid, Taylor grabs the cuff of Cal’s flannel and pulls him back.

“Best you and your pup leave now, Ryder,” Octavia calls from above, “before you overstay your welcome.”

And Nik, literally a dumbass, looks like he’s about to argue. “Ryder,” Taylor calls — practically pleads, “let’s just go. We’ll find what we need somewhere else.” That doesn’t even matter, he wants to say, but we’re not safe here anymore.

It takes him a second to move around the wall of tension named Kristof; looks like he’s about to call the Alpha out on the power move until Taylor manages to grab hold of him, too, and makes it easy on them both.

Kristof stands silent save his breathing — husky, heavy breaths that fill his lungs and puff out his chest.

“Show ‘em out, Lowell.” Octavia calls when the three of them are already halfway to the front of the cabin. “Then go for a run — clear ya head.”

Not like they’ve already forgotten the way out but it is what it is; a way to diffuse the situation. Judging by the looks of things it’s a role Octavia plays quite often.

Cal’s brought them all the way to the pergola at the property entrance before he finally seems to calm down enough to speak. Looks at Taylor with an apologetic gaze.

“Thanks for that — gettin’ me outta there.”

“Wasn’t any trouble,” though he does throw a look back to Ryder; already busy on his phone and taking out his frustration with every punch to the keys, “thanks for trying to help. I figured out he had history with, uh, the pack, but…”

Cal nods. “Guess you’ve just met him, then?”

“How’d you know?”

“Ryder’s a bit infamous around New Orleans.”

“For being a Nighthunter?”

“For being a dick about being a Nighthunter.”

Like he’s psychic, Ryder barks for Taylor not a moment later; “Come on, kid! We gotta get back to the Shift. It’s gonna be a steep price to pay but Ivy thinks she can get what we need.”

“Coming!” He calls — offers Cal what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, might go for that run…”

But there’s a distracted distance in his reply. He watches Cal’s focus flicker between him and Ryder behind. “‘Get what you need,’ what’s that mean? You needed somethin’ from Kristof?”

“Oh — yeah. We’re putting together a protection spell I guess.”

“Then you came here for Hunter’s Sage.”

It’s enough to catch Ryder’s ear and haul him over to their conversation. Not that he looks at Cal with any less suspicion but it seems to be a mutual thing.

“What d’you know about Hunter’s Sage?”

“I know it’s a standard ingredient for protection magic,” answers the werewolf, “and I also know it’s one of the few things the Pack keeps locked up tight. Whoever your friend is sayin’ they’ve got access to some — it can’t be local. And we both know if that stuff ain’t fresh your spell’ll be about as protective as a house pet.”

Ryder’s teeth grind audibly. “I’ve seen my share of scary pets.”

“But do you really wanna take that chance?”

Judging by the way he looks at Taylor; Cal wants to help. Might even know a way to do so — but if it means going against his Alpha…

“I don’t want to risk getting you in more trouble,” Taylor says, “especially after what happened back there.”

“Ain’t a risk if there’s a big enough reward.”

And much to Taylor’s surprise — and Ryder’s lack thereof — Cal gives a curt nod. “If I wasn’t in the situation I’m in… I’d offer it to you for the sake of keeping the peace. The Lowell’s have always been in good with the Alpha — he’d huff and puff for a few weeks but eventually forget about it.

“But that ain’t the case at the moment. So if you’re desperate enough for the Sage I’m more than willing to provide it as a payment.”

The hunter and the wolf mirror one another; puff out their chests and cross their arms tight. The fragility of their combined masculinity is so thick Taylor’s at risk of choking on it.

“All right — I’ll bite,” Ryder quirks a brow, “‘payment’ for what?”

Even though the Nighthunter would be the one doing said job it’s Taylor that Cal turns to. The nearest torch flame reflects like a burning passion in his eyes.

“Payment for rescuing my little brother before Kristof has him killed.”

The door is already open on Cal’s side and that’s the one closest to the curb; so it’s logical for Taylor to follow the tall werewolf out of the cab instead of joining Nik in the middle of the street.

So why does it look like for a brief second Ryder’s irritated that he didn’t?

But the look fades away; goes through Ryder’s barely-expressive version of the five stages of grief as he sees where Cal’s had the cab take them.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Cal isn’t kidding anyone. “Now you see what I mean.”

From Taylor’s vague mental memory of those first tours he took of the new city he called home they have to be somewhere in the Upper Garden District. Usually the houses are closer together — though no less grand — but the place they’ve been dropped off in front of has its own lot cleared. As if to heighten its importance.

Or its value.

A roundabout of freshly-paved drive circles a fountain made of black iron. Lights reflect on the water and change from the soft yellow of liquid sunlight to deep emerald green and a blue he’s only seen in pictures of the ocean on a cloudless day.

The manor is no less splendid, either. Filled with the old-world charm of New Orleans; her vines of ivy climbing and spreading fingers of foliage across the vast wings and around windows both large and small. But there’s nothing run-down about it. This place is well-kept; well-loved, well-visited.

“All right — run this whole thing by me again now that I know what shit we’re steppin’ in.” Ryder demands without taking his eyes off of the estate.

Cal, on the other hand, can’t bear to look at it.

“Donny’s a good kid. Came into his wolf on time just like everyone else. He’s a whiz at math, too. Maybe that’s why he thought he could gamble — like there aren’t any card-counting hexes on any place of Smoke’s.

“He was just tryin’ to help. If I hadn’t lost my job at the building site…”

When he trails off Taylor reaches out and rests what he hopes is a reassuring hand on a broad shoulder. Cal leans into it — throws back a small but no-less grateful smile. It’s enough for him to continue.

“Whatever happened, he got in deep. One night he’s digging around the trailer for every spare nickel and dime and the next day he’s not waiting for me outside school like he’s supposed to. I went to Kristof about it and — y’know, he’s a good Alpha temper aside; takes care of his Pack — and he put some feelers out. Only they led him to…”

“They led him to Persephone.” answers Ryder, who gives a jerk of his head to the glamorous mansion.

Taylor looks between them. “Anyone gonna explain what Persephone is?”

The gesture Ryder gives at the building isn’t subtle. Nor is the look Taylor gives him because no, really?

“It’s a high-end club for high-end supernatural folks.” Cal tries only to end up getting corrected anyway.

“It’s the club, more like. You can only get in with a signet membership and people have killed for less in this town. It’s no place we wanna go sticking our noses.”

Taylor frowns. “But Donny…”

“Whatever debts he racked up ain’t somethin’ that can go away just as easy. The people who own this place aren’t exactly known for their forgiving nature.”

Beside Taylor, Cal’s knuckles crack one by one as he balls his hands into fists. Ryder shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. It’s a lost cause.”

“Then so will gettin’ your hands on any Hunter’s Sage.” Cal immediately regrets his words when he sees the way Taylor’s face falls; tries to backtrack. “I don’t — I want to help — really I do. You seem like a good guy, Taylor, and if I can help…”

But Taylor isn’t mad at Cal. “I get it. Your family comes first.”

“Exactly.”

“So why’s Kristof gonna maul him?” Ryder asks.

“For mixing the Pack up with the Smoke? He’d put him down just to make an example out of him for anyone else who might try something similar. It’ll be hard to do but being the Alpha isn’t an easy job. Even if he doesn’t kill him outright, the thought of Donny being banished…

“He’s the only family I have.” He’s trying not to seem vulnerable as best he can but his eyes betray him.

Never has there been a more apt time to think the expression looking like a kicked puppy.

Sage or no Sage, Taylor wants to help. Doesn’t know a thing about what he’s getting himself into but when has he ever made consciously smart choices? Ryder, however, seems to be heavily weighing on the pros and cons.

Well, fuck that.

“So how do we get in?”

Nik scoffs in disbelief. “Was I talking to myself when I said —”

“I’m sorry,” he rounds on his bodyguard with hands on hips and spite in his soul, “did I suggest walking in the front door? No. But there’s gotta be another way in. There always is in the movies.”

“This ain’t a movie, Taylor.”

“Well maybe we should start pretending it is.”

At least Cal looks like he’s starting to get on board with the plan. “What did you have in mind?”

It’s like one of the fountain’s color-changing lights sparks atop his head.

As someone who has never seen a goblin before, Taylor would like to point out what he’s keeping his cool very well. Like, well enough to earn whatever crazy non-alcoholic mixology madness Garrus is no doubt cooking up in his and Ryder’s absence.

Because freaking out wouldn’t help them, now would it? And they could really use all the help they can get.

“I didn’t send out no order for some Bayou filth,” the goblin woman continues on her rampage of scorn, “you must have the wrong address! As if I would serve my guests anything that grew in a local swamp.”

Taylor adjusts the small stack of crates he’s carrying — feels his fingers go numb and quickly moves them back to their aching spot. Better in pain than no feeling at all.

He’s definitely more than a little jealous at how easy Ryder makes his haul look.

“I’ll try not to take offense, ma’am, and for both our sakes I won’t go mentionin’ to my Alpha your little snipe and question of the quality of our goods. But how about you cut a guy some slack? I’m just the delivery.”

Cal’s either done this before or is a natural; lets his accent draw out his words while he oh-so-casually leans in the doorway of Persephone’s delivery entrance. He’s two heads taller than the goblin head chef but that doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

She curls back a green lip in a snarl; reveals a row of large yellow teeth like blunted knives.

“Oh, you’re wantin’ me to cut you slack? When you’re the mangy hound keeping me from finishing a very specific order for a very specific client?”

“Well I can’t go about the rest of my drop-offs until this one is done!”

“And how is that my problem?!”

“I’m making it your problem!” There’s definitely no pretending the ire in Cal’s voice is fake. He pulls a random piece of folded paper out of his back pocket and starts waving it around without actually unfurling it — conveniently right out of the chef’s gnarled green grasp.

“I got a dozen more orders to fill tonight and no room on my truck —” —Cal jerks his thumb behind them but stays right in the goblin’s way; keeps her from looking for what definitely isn’t there— “— for this crap! So let me and my guys drop it off and we’re done!”

“I told you I won’t serve —”

“Christ, woman! You don’t gotta serve it; hell, burn the shit for all I care! I don’t get paid unless I got an empty truck at the end of my route. And you sure as hell ain’t gettin’ paid while arguin’ with me.”

She opens her mouth to argue but the sound of breaking glass and porcelain is the only thing that comes out. Makes her whirl around with a high-pitched and gravelly shriek as she takes in whatever mess as been made.

“You rotten-toothed fools,” she howls, “not the Ming china!”

Thank god for the broken Ming china because any longer arguing and they might have drawn unwanted attention. Well, more unwanted attention.

It’s enough of a tragedy to get the head chef to rush inside without bothering to scold them, send them off, or even shut the door properly. Easily propped open with Cal’s boot.

He holds a hand back to keep them from rushing in — Taylor’s about to very loudly protest when the noise inside starts growing into a full-blown cacophony.

“Now!” He shoulders open the door with just enough space for Nik and Taylor to rush inside, then keeps it from slamming shut as he comes in last.

Only now Taylor’s plan is done and he’s at a loss for how to go forward. Until Cal practically shoves him to follow Ryder along a side hallway out of the kitchen staff — and head chef’s — sights.

Lucky for them that must have been some expensive china because staff of all types, sizes, and goblin-shades rush by them without so much as a ‘hello.’ They test every door in the hallway until they find one unlocked and dump their cargo haul without ceremony.

“So we’re in,” Cal huffs, no doubt heart beating with the same thrill of almost-not-quite-caught that Taylor’s is, “now what?”

“Now we find your brother and get the hell out.”

When he finally catches his breath the werewolf takes a deep breath in — nostrils flaring and eyelids fluttering closed. His nose crinkles slightly, catches the scent of something foul.

“What, what is it?” asks Taylor with worry.

Cal shakes his head. “Someone burned a catfish back there.”

“Focus, Fido.”

If he wants to bite Nik’s head off for the comment he holds it in well. So Taylor smacks a leather-clad arm for him.

They wait — and wait — and wait… but Cal’s shoulders sag in frustration and disappointment. “It’s no use. The kitchen’s messing with my nose. I thought I had him, but…”

“So we just go further in, right?” Taylor grabs for the door but a broad palm stops him in his tracks. Ryder glowers down at him.

“No. We wait until he can catch the scent from back here.”

“What? That’s stupid!”

“Yeah, about as stupid as going out into the ranks of Persephone during Mardi Gras. No signets, no threads; we’ll stick out like sore thumbs.”

“Some of us more than others…” mutters Cal under his breath; not quite soft enough for Nik not to hear.

“We’re not turning back.” And just in case the hunter might be in doubt Taylor yanks the door open; sends him staggering. “Or I’m not, at the very least. So are you gonna come be my body guard or what?”

Not that he gives Nik the chance to answer. Turns on his heel and marches straight out in all his raggedy un-refined glory with Cal the flannel-clad werewolf at his heels.

“I can’t believe this is the job that’s gonna kill me.” Mutters the Nighthunter under his breath — just before he jogs to catch up.

So far everything he’s come into contact with in this strange new world hasn’t been on the best side of friendly. Why should Persephone be any different?

And for the first time Taylor isn’t let down in the slightest. Not when they manage to slip their way out of the back rooms and onto what must be the main show floor.

The ceiling is all four stories high with a large glowing chandelier shining iridescent gemstone reflections down on every inch of the place. Two winding staircases branch off in different directions with velvet-encased landings on every floor.

All around them bodies lean on railings and various balconies. The floor is an addict’s paradise; no matter the vice. A large circular bar rotates in the middle of the sunken floor while around them dice roll, chips are collected, and cards are thrown down to mixed reactions of cheers and disappointed groans.

But it’s not even the physics-breaking space that’s the most interesting part. It’s the people. Well — if some of them are people, that is.

The collective net worth of the civilized world (and then some) has to be gathered on the diamond-studded (actual. fucking. diamonds) carpeting. They titter along, absorbed in their drinks and wealth and company just like Taylor would expect of an entirely mortal clientele.

Some of them look mortal, too — though he has to remind himself that might not hold true. A woman with bright blue scales for skin brushes past with a giggled “pardonnez-moi!” as she heads to catch a waitress and her tray of mini-somethings.

Some have tails, others talons, and just when he thinks he’s seen it all a bellowing call comes from the top floor and he looks up to see a snow-white swan dive off of the landing and turn into an obsidian crow mid-flight without so much as a fallen feather.

There’s a sudden warmth a this back and Taylor jumps, ready to shove off the offender, only to find Ryder there; leading him through the crowd to a shadowed corner of booths with curtains strung around them.

“You feeling okay?” He asks under his breath.

Taylor nods. “Yeah, why?”

He inches in the round booth until Ryder can comfortably sit beside him — finds himself looking around for any sign of Cal until he spots the wolf’s messy curls shadowing a group of fanged flappers on their way to the floor bar.

The most surprising sight — even with all the magic and delight — is turning to see Nik with concern creased in his forehead. The wrinkles overlapping on his scar awkwardly.

“Ryder, what’s wrong?”

“All this ain’t givin’ you a head-splitting ache?”

It’s such an out-there question — actually succeeds to pull Taylor’s attention away from each new bewildering sight to the very-average and very-mortal face of the man before him.

The bravado’s gone from Nik’s voice; replaced instead with… with some sort of sincerity he’s not used to. Not from him, anyway. Even back at the Graveyard Shift he still found a way to make light of Taylor’s situation and the hard, dark truths he had to learn.

If he didn’t know better, Taylor would dare say the man in front of him isn’t Nik Ryder. But because he hesitates in answering, because he instead chooses to take in the sight before him rather than brush it aside, that openness closes up real quick.

Which version was the real Nik Ryder? Now he wants to know.

“No,” and he places a hand over Ryder’s arm on the tabletop to keep him from letting that be all that’s said, “it’s like you said back at Garrus’, you know? I stopped resisting it and now… I don’t see anything but the truth. Like there isn’t a glamour at all.”

It makes Nik give a soft — almost fond — chuckle.

“‘Course there ain’t. Not in here at least. I may hate the lot of ‘em for their vulgar hoards of cash but even I’ll admit they deserve a place not to have to hide.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” And when he looks back out to the revelry it’s with a different eye.

After all he knows exactly how hard it is to go through life wearing a mask that can’t even come close to capturing the person underneath it.

“Doesn’t stop the majority of ‘em from being assholes, though.”

“When did Ryder start referring to himself in the third person?”

Cal slides in on Taylor’s opposite side, cocks a half-smirk at Ryder who only manages a grumbled and incoherent (probably for everyone’s benefit) response.

“Did you catch Donny’s scent by the bar?”

The wolf shakes his head no. Pinches the bridge of his nose with eyes squeezed shut. “For a second it was there — like he was right beside me — but just like that it was lost in the herbs they got in the drinks.”

“At least we know that means he’s here.”

“Or was, at least.”

Cal looks up when Taylor nudges his side. “Come on, don’t think like that now. We’re on the right path and, hey, knock on wood but no one’s kicking us out just yet.”

“They should with duds like those. Or didn’t you see the dress code on your way in?”

Nik tenses up beside him; mutters “shit” under his breath but doesn’t have to look around like his companions for the owner of the lilting laugh.

She emerges from around the drawn-back velvet curtain with dark blue gems for skin. No — it takes Taylor a second to realize the dress she wears just clings to her in all the right places before cascading down her legs like a waterfall.

She brushes her hair aside, lets it reveal her face as if parted from a violet veil. There’s nothing inherently inhuman about the woman at first glance — but if anyone could be the definition of deceiving looks its her.

From the looks of things she’s been taking them in with the same level of scrutiny. All but Ryder, whom she doesn’t even spare a passing glance. He leans back in the booth — suddenly far more at ease — and throws an arm around the back.

Her eyes linger on the worn state of Cal’s flannel collar and the wrinkles in Taylor’s tee. “Though I can’t tell if it’s just sad or actually a little genius on your part. One sore thumb is a nuisance but three, well… that’s a statement.”

Ryder’s brow twitches. “What can I say? I live to disappoint.”

“If only you were as good at your job as you were at getting dirt on everything you own.”

“Now that’s funny — since I seem to recall you singin’ my praises when you were butterin’ me up on the Raines job.”

“Compliments get pretty girls like me everything and everywhere, Nik. Or have you forgotten that you did come help me?”

“Problem with you Kathy,” Ryder starts up; looks like he’s ready to tell their new friend all the problems he has with her there and then, “is you always say you’ll split the fare after the job’s done but you’re too busy chasin’ your next lead to actually do it.”

‘Kathy’ rolls her eyes and turns to leave — no, not leave — to flag down a server carrying a full tray of champagne flutes filled with fuzzy pink liquid. “You can just leave that here, thanks.” She croons and waves the girl off like it never happened.

“I’ll admit I got… caught up in a few things once we split. But I give you my word the money will be in your account by tomorrow.”

The look Nik gives her is dangerously shy of ‘why wait, let’s go now’ but he doesn’t. Taylor tries to be an optimist and pretends it’s for Cal’s sake — for his little brother’s sake.

“You’re lucky I’m already on a job,” growls the hunter instead, “or I’d be pushin’ it.”

“And you’d end up waiting regardless. You’re not the only one working here.”

“I don’t even wanna ask what job you’re on in that getup.”

“It’s called blending in.”

The likelihood of their bickering lasting until the end of time, if left to their own devices, is a little too high. They have things to do — a little brother to find. And Cal’s getting antsy in his seat.

“Ryder,” Taylor tries — and fails — to be subtle; what with the wide eyes and the way he keeps jerking his head towards the depths of the lobby, “we gotta. get. going.”

Nik actually waves him off. “Yeah yeah, just a minute.” Then to Kathy; “I can’t figure why it’s takin’ you so long when you’re the one who ended up with the better end of the bargain.”

She scoffs — stops grabbing for one of the drinks on the tray and fixes him with a glare that’s gonna start Trouble with a capital ‘T.’

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Ryder puffs out his chest, huffs through his nostrils. “Just don’t think you gettin’ Raines to do you a favor measures up when I did most of the work.”

“That’s debatable, from what Kathy’s told me.”

The voice from behind them wouldn’t be nearly as startling if it didn’t come from the woman’s open mouth in a deep baritone.

Their new guest is a tall man in sleek black finery. The silk of his shirt ripples like liquid and when he walks around them to Katherine’s side there’s the tinkle of metal on the tile floor; the silver tips of his shoes make him decorated — quite literally — head to toe.

He crooks his elbow and Katherine slides herself onto his arm like she’s just another piece to his fancy ensemble. “Took you long enough…” She mutters aside.

Instead of apologizing, though, the stranger focuses on the ragtag trio in the booth. “Of course we all know there’s three sides to every argument: his, hers,” he looks away from the bristling Nighthunters to stare at Taylor; to penetrate his soul with bright red eyes, “and the truth.”

Definitely not mortal.

Everything about the way Ryder addresses the man screams recognition. Important, but not important enough to warrant an introduction.

“Cadence,” he almost sneers the name, “didn’t figure Persephone to be your kind of scene.” I thought you were better than that; that’s what hangs unsaid in the air packed to the brim with tension.

Taylor’s eyes travel down to the taller man’s hand where, indeed, the same kind of heavy golden ring rests on his finger. Cadence notices and slyly tucks his hand into his trouser pockets; as if he’s embarrassed by it. When they lock eyes again the red is gone; replaced by dark honey.

But if Nik’s remark is a trap, he doesn’t fall into it. Instead does the opposite of his companion and regards Taylor and Cal like they’re actually a part of the conversation.

“I’ll assume you didn’t come in through the front door; kudos to whatever you did that worked.”

“It was surprisingly easy.” Taylor replies.

“And dangerous — but some things are worth the danger.” The man looks down his nose — at his height it’s impossible to do anything else — and squeezes Kathy’s arm. “We should get going. We need to catch Isadora before the show starts.”

She nods curtly; all business now. Throws a look back to her—friend? rival?—Ryder.

“Well it’s been fun, but —”

“‘Isadora’ as in Izzy-Isadora? Carlo’s daughter?”

Kathy’s not the only one taken by surprise at Cal’s interruption but she does seem to notice him for the first time.

“Maybe.”

“Ain’t no other Isadora we’d know by name.” Nik cuts in.

“What’s it to you?”

“Her dad just died — what’s she doin’ here?”

Cal raises a good point. Leaves the collective group in an awkward silence. The gears turning in Kathy’s head are near visible — like the steam coming out of her ears.

“She’s here to pay off her father’s debt to the Smoke.” Cadence finally answers. Judging by the way Kathy looks at him, too, he’s not lying. “What?” He asks her in defense of her silent accusation. “What did I say?”

Only Nik acts like he’s just been shot. “Wait — Smoke’s here tonight?”

“No — Katherine stop — but her collector is. He’s leading the matches in the underground.”

“What matches?”

“The cage fights.”

Cal makes a desperate, choking noise beside him and Taylor immediately tries to see what he can do — he doesn’t have to know much about this new world to understand what they’re talking about. ‘Cage fights’ is a pretty universal term with only so many interpretations.

“That’s where they have Donny.”

Taylor doesn’t have to question him. Not with how sure, how terrified he sounds. And it makes sense — mobsters are mobsters.

“Well… we’ll just be going now…” Katherine starts tugging her partner away — actually has to tug since he seems suddenly taken by Cal’s reaction. “Cade — come on.”

Nik leans over Taylor — is personal space a concept to anyone around here? — to look Cal dead in the eyes.

“You sure?”

“Has to be.” Cal chokes out.

“Would you like to join us?”

Katherine stops tugging only to pick her jaw up off the ground. Even Taylor’s surprised by the man’s abrupt invitation. Checks his face again for any sign of cruel teasing but there’s nothing in those golden eyes.

Nothing but curiosity. Not even sincerity. He wants to see what will happen.

“Bad idea, Cadence.” Katherine warns.

“Nope!” Taylor’s shoved by Ryder — accidentally shoves the still sheet-white Cal as a result — out of the booth in haste. “Can’t take it back now.”

The Nighthunter adjusts his shirt and coat sleeves like he’s wearing something bought on the same rack as every other bespoke suit and outfit there. When he speaks he’s looking straight at Katherine — now fuming — and has to be getting his kicks judging by the look on her face.

“We’d love to.”

All it takes is a gesture for their new guides to turn and start walking. Too far ahead and too fast for Taylor to catch any of the whispers Katherine hisses under her breath. But he’s more focused on Cal.

“We’re gonna find him — don’t worry.”

Cal swallows audibly.

“Cage fights, Taylor. They’ve got him in cage fights.”

“And we’re gonna get him out before anything happens.”

Nik passes them; offers him grim two cents.

“If it ain’t happened already.”

[fallintosanity]

a wild plot appears!

i’m spoiling you guys today. 

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 

Noctis told his younger self much the same version of events as he’d told Regis yesterday, leaving out only the truth about Prompto’s origins and what had happened to him in Gralea. That was Prompto’s story to share or not, especially since the eighteen-year-old Prompto of this time wasn’t here. It still took more than twice as long to tell everything, because all three boys kept interrupting with questions and exclamations.

But as Noctis got to the end, to the truth of his destiny and the death he faced at the hands of his ancestors, they fell into a horrified silence. Noctis forced his voice to stay level, calm, as he told his younger self what Bahamut had explained to him inside the Crystal: the true purpose of the Lucis Caelums, the blood price they had to pay to save the world. When he’d finished, silence hung over the room, broken only by his younger self’s short gasping breaths, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Not that Noctis could blame him; it had taken him a long time to come to terms with everything inside the Crystal, and even now that traitorous refrain echoed in time with his heartbeat: I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

He waited, letting his gaze fall on the view out the big windows on the far wall. Sunset painted the streets of Insomnia red and gold, the last traces of daylight shining like fire along the buildings. They'd been in the past almost twenty-four hours already.

Abruptly Young Gladio burst out, “That ain't fair!” Noctis looked back at him in time to see him bang a fist against his knee. “Why does Noct - why do you - have to die?”

“It's plenty fair,” Noctis said. His voice came out hard, not quite hiding the bitterness he couldn't chase away. “One life for all humanity. Really, it's a good deal.”

“But it's not,” Young Ignis protested. “You shouldn't - it shouldn't—”

“Then who?” Noctis cut in. “You? Gladio? Prompto?” Young Noctis flinched at that, but Noctis kept talking: “How is that any more or less fair? Just because I was born a prince doesn't mean I deserve life any more than anyone else.” His fists clenched. “This is why the gods gave my family power in the first place. If I don't do this, I’m throwing away humanity’s only chance at survival.”

The room seemed to grow darker at his words, though in reality it was just the sun dropping below the distant horizon. Nobody said anything for a few minutes; their younger selves seemed too shaken, and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto were resigned and grim. Noctis, despite what he'd said, still felt the same ache of unfairness he’d tried to deny. If he hadn't been born a Lucis Caelum, he wouldn't be facing his own death now. No, he thought bitterly. I’d be facing death by Starscourge or daemons while waiting for the Lucis Caelums to do their job.

He sighed, abruptly bone-tired. He’d been ready yesterday to accept his death, but having to explain it to his younger self, to sit here waiting on a past version of his father to make a decision… this was much harder. He wanted to move, to go out and find Ardyn and get this over with. But he was stuck here, and all he could do was warn his past self and hope he’d be better prepared—

A siren began to wail.

All of them jumped; Gladio and Prompto summoned weapons to their hands and scanned the room warily, while Ignis tensed, head tilted to listen. A second siren joined the first, then a third and fourth. “What the hell?!” Noctis yelped.

At almost the same time, Young Ignis and Young Gladio’s phones began blaring an alarm: the Crownsguard alert, a warning that something bad was happening. Young Ignis fumbled his phone out of his pocket and scanned the screen, while Young Gladio shot to his feet in front of Young Noctis. “What's going on?” he demanded.

“... Daemons,” Young Ignis said incredulously. “Daemons have been spotted in the courtyard of the Citadel.”

“What?!” Gladio snapped.

“There can't be daemons here,” Prompto protested. “This is the Citadel! We're inside the Wall!”

“Apparently that is irrelevant,” Young Ignis said, his tone distracted as he skimmed the alert on his phone. “Multiple guardsmen are reporting sightings. All available Crownsguard are instructed to gather in the courtyard to mount an attack.”

Noctis pushed to his feet and crossed the room to the still-open servants’ passage. “Let's go.”

Gladio and Prompto were already on his heels, Ignis half a step behind them. The three boys, though, seemed frozen in place. “Go where?” Young Noctis asked.

“To find a balcony where we can see,” Noctis answered. He didn’t add, and help if we can. Their younger selves wouldn’t be fighting anyway. He ducked into the passage, struggling to remember the route through the hidden halls. Gladio muscled in front of him, then Young Noctis pushed past them both.

His face was pale, but his mouth was set in a determined line. “This way,” he said, and hurried into the dark. Noctis flicked on his jacket light and followed, the others close behind.

They emerged a minute later through another hidden door into the central hall of the tower. Huge windows dominated one wall, with elegant doors set along the bottom which opened onto a narrow balcony that ran along the face of the tower. Noctis led them outside - and stared down at the chaos in the courtyard in dismay.

“Those are Iseultalons,” Prompto breathed, horrified. “And… is that—”

“That's that damn Cerberus,” Gladio said. He leaned out over the railing for a better look and Prompto grabbed his jacket to steady him. Far below, the Cerberus roared in unsettling triple harmony, and a chorus of screams echoed up from the Crownsguard caught in its attack.

“We killed it, though,” Noctis protested.

“Apparently not thoroughly enough,” Ignis said grimly. “The hunters have noticed lately that powerful daemons no longer die, but are merely temporarily dispelled. Apparently that's true for the Cerberus as well.”

“Or it's from the past,” Gladio suggested. “We killed it in the future, but it's still around now.”

“Either way, it's more than the Crownsguard can handle,” Ignis said. “Noct?”

“We should help,” Noctis said. He turned back to the balcony doors; he could jump over the rail and warp down, but his friends couldn't, and he knew better than to dive in alone. “Come on.”

“Hey, Noct,” Young Gladio said sharply, and Noctis turned. But he was apparently talking to Young Noctis, who stood just inside the door, staring at his phone. Young Gladio thumped him on the arm. “What's wrong?”

Young Noctis turned the phone so they could see the messaging app on the screen. “I texted Prompto - I know he's across the city, but I wanted to make sure he's okay - but he hasn't responded.”

“It’s late,” Young Ignis said dismissively. “He’s likely asleep, or away from his phone.”

Young Noctis glared. “It’s barely seven PM. I know you’re an old fogey who goes to bed at eight, but the rest of us normal kids are awake until midnight.”

“I am not—” Young Ignis tried to interrupt, but Young Noctis barreled over him.

“Anyway, even if he was asleep, Prompto always answers his phone.” He punctuated this with a shake of his own phone at Young Ignis. “Always. I’ve texted him at three in the morning and he’s answered.”

Prompto snorted, a fond expression on his face. “I remember that.”

“Why were you—Never mind,” Young Ignis said, exasperated. “In any case, I’m sure he has a reason for not responding immediately. We need to get you to safety and let them—” tilting his head toward Noctis and the other adults— “help the Crownsguard against the daemons.”

Young Noctis shook his head. “But what if something’s wrong?”

“Like what?” Gladio and Young Gladio asked in unison. Gladio narrowed his eyes at his younger counterpart, and Young Gladio scowled back.

“I don’t know,” Young Noctis said. “Just… I have a bad feeling, okay? Prompto always texts me back.”

“He’s probably in the shower or something,” Prompto offered. “I didn’t take my phone into the shower with me.”

“Like you said, he’s across the city,” Gladio said. “No reason for anything to be wrong.”

“Send him one more message,” Ignis suggested in his reasonable tone, “and give him ten minutes to respond. If you still don’t hear from him, then we can start to worry.”

Noctis could tell from the set of his younger self’s jaw that he didn’t like that answer, but didn’t have a better suggestion. Young Noctis sighed and lifted the phone, thumbs tapping out another message. “Fine.”

[praphit]

JW 3: excommunication vs badassery -  WHO YA GOT?!

Well, I'm back here again talkin about John mother bleepin Wick; that must mean that people are messing with him again.

In the 1st movie, we learn that John Wick belonged to a secret soceity of assassins, but he got out of the game, so he could properly grieve his dead wife. The only piece of that life he had was in a puppy, and some assholes came around and killed that puppy.

A puppy! Not John Wick's old dog who had lived a full life and kinda wanted to go cuz he's seen too much shit - they killed John Wick's cute, innocent, lil puppy!

So, JW had to kill not only the people who killed his puppy (no no no no no),but everyone associated with them: family, friends, if you have ever delivered a pizza to those scumbags, if you bagged their groceries, it was on!

He killed 3 guys who were involved in a bar once with a pencil! A PENCIL! Who does that?! Who says to themselves "Man, I'm so mad that I'm gonna go into that bar and kill three men with this number 2." Who?! An unstable human being, that's who! I love him, but damn!

In the 2nd movie, they said , "John Wick has gone too far! Yeah, we killed your pup, but you didn't have to take out the our whole community!" Soooo, they decided to take more of his stuff - they stole his car. They got Ruby Rose and Common after him to say "Look, John, we're square, let us take the car, we'll rough you up just a little bit... and let this all go."

But, you already killed the man's puppy, now you gonna swipe his ride? What the hell is wrong with y'all?! You know who this man is!

Of course, John Wick had to kill off multiple gangs, along with Ruby and Common. For one night, the streets were literally painted red with blood. John Wick's killing went beyond cinema. Those actors haven't been the same since. Ruby Rose has given up movie making for the CW network, to make-out with women while dressed as a bat (not making that up) She figures she can hide in the CW. 

Look at her... she’d rather look ridiculous than be near anything John Wick related. 

I don't think Common has put out any hit songs since that John Wick 2. The carnage that he saw in the production of that movie was mind-shattering.

They said  - "John Wick! That's it! We tried to square things up, but you wouldn't listen! Now, you're excommunicado!"

Now, in the church world, I know what excommunication means - no more Ritz crackers and wine for you, dirty stares when church folk see you at the market, they draw devil horns on your pic in the prayer list, and you're no longer invited to church picnic's, but they never send people out to beat yo ass. Can you imagine if church were that serious?? A pastor having a pack of assassins just waiting for you to disobey him/her. Maybe Russia would do that... seems like they might do church differently out there.

But, that's where we're at with “John Wick 3: Parabellum!”

He's been cast out of the fold! No one is allowed to help him. They cancelled his social media accounts, his gym and yoga memberships, and coupons at Whole Foods. They beat the hell out of him. Told him he’s got one hour until certain horrible death. Took ALL his shit! He's done!

In John Wick's time of need there are only two people that he can turn to. Two people who haven't totally turned their backs on him - Halle Berry and that woman from "The Addams Family"; good ol what's her face. 

So, he's off (though a bit beaten up and bloody), to murder everyone in his path to finding these two people. It's like a video game in a sense - there should be an action total at the end of each scene:

112 dead

52 shots to the head

34 broken limbs 432 bullets fired 40 gallons of blood spilled

10 dicks and 7 balls chomped on by Halle Berry's dogs

Number of New Yorkers freaked out by all of this (0)

He kills people with a horse! No joke! 

And a book - at one point John Wick destroys a giant of a man: busts up his ribs, his knees, his shins, his kidneys, his balls, his jaw, his neck... all with a book. I'll never see a bookshelf in a home the same again.

All of this mayhem and blood leads John Wick out into the desert. Where he has to meet with some high elder to... do a job to reverse the excommunicado to... be... an assassin slave or something... idk. There are people out there who may complain about the lack of sensible story in this movie, and... yep! - they're right, but you know... it's all about survival and revenge - what more do you need??

The real hero of this movie is a doctor that John sees in the beginning, who gives him some pills that take away the pain, and give him energy. Those pills are the things of superhumans, cuz that's all he needs for most of this movie. I saw him take a couple of sips of bourbon, and drink some of Halle Berry's spit (don't ask). But, that's all he needed to do all of this killing for nearly a week. I didn't see him stop at Burger King, or grab an energy drink, or take a nap (think of the great opps for product placement --- John Wick doesn't sleep often, but when he does, I bet it's on a Casper Matress), I didn't even see him use the restroom; which he probably needed cuz he was running weird throughout this whole movie - like he needed to pee and his pants were too tight. That's the real tragedy of John Wick - never having time to pee or buy new pants that fit.

But, apparently, John Wick doesn't need any of those things, all he needs is Halle Berry's spit. Just a couple of sloppy, slurpy kisses from Halle and a man or woman is set!

Yes, this movie lacks a bit in plot, but John Wick has always been about the amazing ballet of kills. There is a literal ballet influence as we see a glimpse of John's background - and it's a ballet/wrestling school... that also teaches young kids how to kill. The fighting is just as creative and pretty as in the last two movies, with A LOT more blood.

All is murderously fun enough to subside some disbelief, until... I won't spoil much, but... look, I've watched John Wick get shot, stabbed in crucial arteries, break bones, get hit by two cars, sliced up by all sorts of sharp objects... he keeps going, ok... we're living by "Fast & Furious" rules, whatever, but at one point he goes over the edge of a multiple story building. A BUILDING! He gets shot, falls over, hits multiple objects on the way down, and then SPLAT! - and he’s STILL ALIVE AND READY TO BEAT ASS. Forget "Fast & Furious" we're living by "Looney Tunes" rules.

At another point, he loses a finger (minor spoiler, but it doesn't matter to the plot), if that finger had grown back, it wouldn't have surprised me.

C'mon, man... I've got to take off points for that.

It's a fun movie. Fans of the series will def enjoy it; I did for sure! If you're a casual fan, you'll prob have to suspend the part of your brain that tries to make sense of things, and simply enjoy, but it's worth a watch, if you love action.

Grade: B

I did feel sorry for the simple 9-5 henchman in this movie. Just out there trying to support your family, in a world where John Wick is killing people with pencils. If I were said henchmen, I think I'd pretend to get hit and knocked out by John Wick. Only John Wick normally shoots everybody in the head (many times) before leaving a scene. I'd have to smash a couple of ketchup packets on my head or something; I'd figure something out cuz I sure as hell ain't messing with a killer like him.

An actor I didn't mention is Asia Kate Dillon known as "The Adjudicator". 

She is excellent btw Trying to enforce rules, and I get it! You've gotta keep people accountable to the rules in a world full of assassins, but... if John Wick is the one breaking the rules... maybe you should let that shit go. That's the morale here. Follow the rules! And if you break the rule, you had better be as badass and indestructible as John Wick. He caused so much death in these three movies over a dog getting shot; this series is like a PETA wet dream, and judging on how awesome this dream is, it may continue way passed 3 movies.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 13

Author’s note: Time to go bounty hunting!

From Arthur’s POV

THE NEXT MORNING

CLEMENS POINT

Picking up on the scent of cooked meat, I gradually rose back into consciousness as my eyes fluttered open to the morning sunlight, revealing a scene I did not expect.

Not too far away from me, Eddie was roasting something over a newly-lit campfire as Bullet chewed on a clump o’ grass behind him, the two of them already wide-awake while I hadn’t even moved from my bedroll yet.

When the hell did they go hunting? The sun wasn’t even that high in the sky yet, and judging by the freshness of the campfire, I assumed Eddie returned just recently. That must’ve meant he’d been up ever since dawn.

Well, someone was certainly excited to start the day.

Letting out a fatigued yawn, I stretched my arms out and sat up from the ground, causing Eddie to jolt his head in my direction as I dragged a hand down my face.

“Morning, Arthur,” he greeted with a smile, offering some of the food he was cooking. “Rabbit?”

I glanced around the camp for a minute, still trying to get my bearings.

“You caught somethin’ already? Heh. Looks like I taught you well.” I stood up from the bedroll and took a seat beside Eddie, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

“You certainly did,” he agreed. “Though, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the skinning part.”

I took a sip. “Oh, I hope you do. There’ll be lots of skinnin’ today, after all. ‘Parently, these Arlington Twins are no joke. Plenty o’ folk gone after them already, but none have succeeded. They’re wanted alive, too.”

Eddie raised a brow. “And you think it’s a good idea to hunt them down?”

“None of this is a good idea,” I replied. “But it’s the only option we got right now. Unless you wanna earn money by shovelin’ pig shit on a ranch instead.”

The pianist chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way...”

I gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just stay alert, and don’t hesitate to shoot ‘em if things go south. I know they’re wanted alive, but I’d rather you be broke than be dead.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll do my best. So, what was this plan you mentioned before?”

I stared at the fire in thought, pondering the multiple ways we could approach this.

“Well, like I said...there’s a good chance they’re targeting the trains coming from New Hanover, so I think it’d be best if we figure out when the next one rolls in. See if we can’t catch them along the way.”

I downed the rest of my coffee, stuffing the mug back into my satchel as I prepared to leave. “I know a feller over at the Rhodes train station could help us out. A peculiar man by the name of ‘Alden,’ but he’s effective in his own way. He’ll know the trains’ schedule.”

Eddie paused for a moment, briefly falling silent before agreeing to my plan.

For a second there, it looked like he wanted to ask me something, but dropped the subject and refrained himself from doing so.

Was everything alright? I wondered. Maybe I should’ve taken a step back and checked on the boy for a damned minute before runnin’ off to hogtie some outlaws.

After all, Eddie had been through hell this past week. With Middleton’s death, the gala shootout, and being forced to survive in the wilds -- I had no idea how this was really affectin’ him.

I forced myself to slow down for a moment and simply sat on my horse, peering over at Eddie with a concerned expression.

“...You alright there, Eddie?” I asked. The musician unhitched Bullet from the post, putting his hat back on as he climbed on top of the beast.

“Well, there is something I want to talk about,” he confessed, “but...now’s not really a great time.”

I shrugged. “On the contrary, now is probably the best time. Never know when we’ll have a moment o’ peace like this again.”

Eddie gave in and sighed in a worried manner, somberly looking away from me. He actually appeared rather upset -- more than I first anticipated -- and the longer he went without sayin’ anything, the more I was afraid somethin’ bad had happened to him.

What was going on?

Eddie stared blankly at the ground, his voice softening with sorrow and uncertainty as I waited for a response.

“...Am I...making you uncomfortable, Arthur?” He questioned quietly.

I blinked in confusion, wonderin’ how on Earth he even got to that conclusion.

“Wh-- no, of course not. What gave you that idea?”

Eddie turned back to me, clearly more hurt than he was lettin’ on.

“It’s just...every time I try to get close to you, like last night, it always seems to scare you off. And you’re constantly going on about how you shouldn’t be around me, or that it’s better off if we put some distance between each other. I just wanted to know if I’m reading the signs wrong. If I’m...perhaps not quite understanding what our relationship really is, and pushing things too far. ...Am I? Is this...not what you want?”

I found myself at a loss for words, suddenly feelin’ like such an asshole. This whole time, I truly believed I had been protecting Eddie when, in reality, I’d actually been hurting him.

Every time we was around each other, or every time Eddie tried to approach me for comfort, I always seemed to subconsciously push the kid away and do my absolute best to shield my true emotions from him, not realizing the messages I was really sending.

Good God, I was an idiot.

Not only had I been making Eddie feel unwanted, I had also gone and taken apart the only life he ever knew by gettin’ involved in a war that weren’t even mine, and throwin’ him out into the wilds.

But of course, like the fool I was forever damned to be, I perceived it as an act of protection -- and through some twisted logic -- saw myself as the guardian in this scenario.

I struggled to find the right words, stutterin’ like an absolute moron while I tried to reassure Eddie.

“Oh, Eddie...” I said, my tone filled with guilt, “...I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I...”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, desperately attemptin’ to put out this fire I’ve started.

“Listen,” I stated, “I know you think I’m a good man -- and maybe, deep down somewhere, I am -- but my actions don’t always reflect it. I’ve...I’ve committed crimes, Eddie. Harmed people that didn’t deserve it. Taken things that weren’t mine. And as a result, it’s gotten those around me hurt. Sometimes, even killed. I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you. I don’t wanna put you in danger.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m already in danger, Arthur.”

“All the more reason not to add more onto your plate.”

The boy leaned over and placed a hand on my lap, appearing somewhat relieved.

“We’re in this fight together, Arthur,” he reiterated. “Sure, this isn’t what either of us wanted, but it’s happening now. And the only way we’re going to get out of it is if we stay by each other’s side. I know you’re willing to protect me, and I’m willing to protect you. No one is putting anyone in danger, except for Atticus Rose. Alright?”

I took what he said to heart, still feelin’ guilty for hurting Eddie the way I did.

“You sure about this?” I double-checked. “You sure you wanna...tie yourself down to some big, dumb moron like me?”

The boy chuckled, his emerald eyes twinklin’ once again.

“Positive. Now...” Eddie gently whipped his reins, signaling Bullet to start trotting out of the camp as he looked back at me with a grin, “...are we catching these twins or what?”

RHODES TRAIN STATION

Strolling through the double-doors, Eddie and I entered the quiet train station as everyone instantly began staring us, following our every move while we made our way to the ticket booth.

Most of the people inside were relaxing on the multiple benches scattered around and reading the newspaper, tiredly waiting for their train to arrive as life carried on outside.

So far, things seemed calm enough. And judging by the lack of alarm in the locals, I assumed the Arlington Twins hadn’t hit any of their trains just yet. That meant they were either still planning, or waitin’ for the right moment. We would have to move fast.

Walkin’ up to the booth, I tapped the little bell sittin’ on the counter and caught the attention of Trelawny’s old friend, lowering my voice as I told Eddie to wait by the door.

“Hello, Arthur!” Alden exclaimed happily. “You came back! Oh, it’s good to see you again. I hope you’ve been well?”

I nodded casually, placing a few dollars on the counter. “Well enough. Listen...I need a different favor today. I ain’t lookin’ for no stagecoach. I’m lookin’ for a train this time.”

The clerk’s eyes widened as he took the money. “A train? Ain’t that a tad...ambitious?”

I smirked. “What can I say? I’m an ambitious man.”

Alden smiled. “That, you are, Arthur. That you are. Well, let’s see...” he opened a the ledger, sliding his finger down the page as he studied the arrival times. “I assume you’re wantin’ a train with some value on it?”

“That would be ideal.”

He took out a slip of paper and began eagerly scribbling some notes on it.

“You’re in luck. There’s a train arrivin’ from New Hanover at ten o’clock. It’s carrying some weapons as well as some money, and there aren’t too many guards on board. A perfect opportunity for a...discouraged man such as yourself.”

I checked the clock on the wall, squinting slightly to read the time. It looked like we had about half an hour before the train arrived. That would work.

“Sounds good,” I said, taking the note Alden had written for me. “Thank you.”

“Be real careful, Arthur,” he warned compassionately. “Goin’ after stagecoaches is one thing, but trains...they’re no joke.”

I returned to Eddie, waving goodbye to the clerk.

“Oh, don’t worry, Alden. I’m always careful.”

A WHILE LATER

BORDER OF NEW HANOVER

Hiding among the many trees in this region, Eddie and I kept a close watch on the railroad tracks as we waited for the train to come through, our weapons all loaded up and ready to go.

The area had been pretty quiet so far, and there was nothin’ but deer and wild horses running around, along with the occasional traveler or two passing by. And what made things even stranger...was that nothing had been placed on the tracks that would force the train to stop.

It made me wonder if the Arlington Twins were even nearby. Or if they were planning to hit this train specifically. Jesus...after all this drama, I almost hoped they were.

“See anythin’ yet?” I asked, observing the place through a pair of binoculars.

“No,” Eddie answered, taking out a pocket watch. “Are you sure it’s arriving at ten? What did that note Alden gave you say?”

I took the piece of paper out and held it between two fingers, handing the note over to Eddie. “Here.”

The boy examined it for a moment, his brow furrowing once he reached the end.

“...Who is this Alden, exactly?” He questioned, sounding a little jealous.

I adjusted my binoculars. “An old ‘associate’ of mine, you could say. I’ve known him for a few months now. Why?”

“Because at the end, it says: Be real careful. Xxxxx. And he’s also drawn a heart.”

I let out a breath, lowering the binoculars for a second.

“Jesus, Alden...” I grumbled, taking the note back. “L-Look, there ain’t nothin’ between us, Eddie. That man’s just...immensely attached to me for some reason. Has been since day one.”

Eddie softly laughed. “I know. I’m only teasing you, Arthur.”

I went back to scouting. “...If you say so.”

The pianist gave me a nudge, pointing towards the western side of the tracks as the sound of a rhythmic engine reached my ears.

“Wait, look! There’s the train.”

Bringing my attention to the train as it passed by, I began searching for any signs of the Arlington Twins, focusing my binoculars on the surrounding area.

“Well, they haven’t robbed it yet, that’s for sure. You see ‘em anywhere?”

Eddie shook his head again. “No.”

I zoomed in, examining the inside of the train through the dusty windows and studying the opulent passengers one-by-one as they relaxed in the car, completely oblivious to what was about to happen.

The train’s interior was much more luxurious than I expected. From what I could see, there were lavish couches and tables decorating the inside of the carriage along with a cozy bar takin’ up one of the corners, and it seemed like the passengers were enjoying a meal at the moment. I guessed that was the dining car.

What really caught my attention however, was a certain woman who was sittin’ directly in my line of sight. For some reason, she appeared very familiar to me, and the longer I looked at her, the more she rang an ominous bell in my head.

The way her face was shaped, the way her makeup was done, the way her eyes seemed to be in a constant twitch...

Holy shit.

I froze with realization, hurriedly putting my binoculars away as I sprung up from the ground and ran for my horse.

“That’s because they’re already on it! C’mon! We gotta catch this train!”

Bolting alongside the railroad, Eddie and I galloped so fast to the point where it felt like we was glidin’ off the damned ground as we tried to match the speed of the train, practically standing straight-up in our saddles as blades of grass flew behind us.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed just who the hell two of the passengers really were, and as far as I could tell, no sort of robbery had commenced yet. Though, considering how close we was gettin’ to Rhodes, I imagined them twins were gonna get to work pretty soon.

I kicked my spurs into my horse, urging her to run faster.

“We gotta get close enough to jump on!” I yelled at Eddie over the train’s thunderous engine.

“I hear you!” He shouted back.

Leaning forward, I firmly whipped the reins and pushed my mount to speed up as I steadily approached one of the flat carriages, unable to ignore the large cliff that was steadily comin’ up in the distance.

It looked like the railroad turned into a bridge not too far away from here, and if I didn’t jump onto this thing soon, I weren’t gonna be here when it crossed.

“Shit...!” I cursed, immediately angling myself towards the cars. I wasn’t anywhere near close enough to the train, and the gap in front of me was a lot wider than I woulda liked...but I was runnin’ out of land to work with. And despite how chaotic my life might’ve been, I didn’t much fancy the idea of plummeting to my death.

Bracing myself for what was about to come, I balanced myself on the saddle and took multiple deep breaths, my heart hammering along with the train’s engine as I prepared to jump.

The ground beneath me had turned into a green blur at this point, and with every second I wasted sittin’ here like an idiot, the faster the edge of the cliff seemed to draw near.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, encouraging myself to do the unthinkable as I got ready to jump.

“...Come on, you son-of-a-bitch...!”

Taking a literal leap of faith, I launched myself through the air and landed roughly on the metal carriage with a heavy thud, holdin’ on for dear life as my legs dangled off the edge and my horse came to a stop, rearing at the cliff.

The train was well off the cliff by now, and against my better judgement, I glanced downwards, only to be greeted by the bottomless pit of jagged rocks and aggressive waterfalls underneath me.

I let out a strained groan, musterin’ as much strength as possible before pulling the rest of my body on board.

“Eddie?” I shouted, getting back on my feet. “You there?!”

The pianist’s voice called back at me from a different carriage. “I’m here!”

I took out my revolver, heading straight for one of the passenger cars.

“I’m goin’ after Minnie!” I informed. “I saw her in the dining car! You keep an eye out for the brother! And remember -- capture them alive!”

Stormin’ my way across the carriage, I squeezed my way through the many crates of cargo and wasted no time in barging through the door as all the passengers inside nailed their eyes onto me, alarmed by the sudden intrusion while I searched for the sister.

“Minnie Arlington!” I barked, scanning the seats like a hawk.

The woman sprung up from her bench, letting out a cackle when she finally realized what my purpose here was. Jesus -- Minnie looked even crazier in person. Not only did she have strands of wild hair stickin’ out from under her big, floppy hat, she had also stuffed herself into a big, green gown to blend in with the rest of the passengers.

“Well, hello there, darling!” Minnie taunted with a wide grin, whipping out her own revolver. “I was wonderin’ when the next bounty hunter’d show up! Well, c’mon then, lil’ boy! Show me what you’re made of -- blood and bones just like the others, I assume!”

Her finger snaked over the trigger, causing me to jolt out of the way just as a bullet came zipping past my ear.

I shot straight back at her, only to end up hitting a wine bottle on the table she was taking cover behind as red liquid and glass sprayed everywhere.

Numerous shrieks of panic instantly erupted within the train carriage. Passengers ducked under their seats with no other way out and screamed in fear, shielding themselves from debris as I pushed through the aisle and continued my pursuit of Minnie.

The outlaw had made her way to the opposite end of the car by now and was hurling liquor bottles at me as a distraction while she steadily inched towards the second exit.

So far, her twin had yet to lend her a helping hand, and far as I could tell, the same could’ve been said for Eddie. I hadn’t seen him ever since I threw myself onto this godforsaken train, and he certainly didn’t follow me into the carriage. Where was he?

Firing her last bullet in my direction, Minnie toppled over a grandfather clock in her path, forcing me to climb over the damned thing as she gripped the exit’s handle.

“So long, bounty hunter!” She exclaimed. “Maybe next time, you’ll actually get the bounty!”

Swinging the door open, Minnie let out a sharp laugh and ran to her freedom, only to be blocked by none other than Eddie himself who was standing directly in the doorway, Lancaster in hand as he stared her down.

“There won’t be a next time, love.”

Eddie bashed the stock directly into Minnie’s head, knocking her out cold as she fell flat on the floor, completely motionless. Afterwards, the pianist bent down and began tying her up with some rope, glancing at me from under his hat’s rim.

“I got her, Arthur.” He assured. “You go on and find Jesse. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

Giving him a quick nod, I slipped past the two of them and headed outside, searching the rest of the train for Jesse as the railroad took us through an even taller waterfall, sprinkling puffs of mist all over me.

By now, I could practically see the entirety of the Heartlands from here, and the sun was just startin’ to climb in the sky, causing an array of golden beams to seep through the thick, white clouds and onto the land below. It was one hell of a view if I ever saw one. I just wished I actually had the time to look at it.

Hurrying through an empty carriage, I swiftly reloaded my gun before spotting Jesse in the conductor’s car, mindin’ his own business.

It looked like the man had killed the original conductor and was now disposing of his body by throwing it over the edge, allowing the poor soul to plunge through the air and into a raging river below.

He didn’t seem to know I was there yet, and just before he could stop the train, I called out his name, making sure my revolver was clear as day in hopes of persuading him to surrender.

“Jesse Arlington!” I yelled, making the outlaw freeze in place. “I’m here to turn you in. Now, I ain’t gonna kill you, but I sure as shit will make you wish I had if you gimme enough of a reason to. So you got one chance to come easy...before I start shooting.”

The man turned around to face me, revealing the nice set of yellow teeth hidin’ behind his cocky grin as he slowly put his hands up.

He let out a chuckle. “...A bounty hunter, eh? You wouldn’t be the first to come after me, big man, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

I gestured to the carriages behind me. “Your sister would disagree.”

Jesse paused at that, his grin disappearing as the mischievous twinkle vanished from his eyes. “...My sister?”

I nodded, admittedly amused by his sudden lack of courage. It was my turn to smile now.

“Oh, yeah,” I confirmed, subtly stepping closer to him. “Minnie’ll be wearin’ a California collar soon enough, and if things go accordin’ to plan, they’ll be suitin’ you up, too. So, you gonna come easy? Or am I gonna have to introduce you to the rope sooner than expected?”

Jesse gulped at that, clearly not confident about his chances no more. I could see beads of sweat rolling down his brow, and with every second he spent glaring at me, the easier I could tell he was losing his nerve.

The outlaw muttered a quick curse, his jaw clenching in anxiety as he desperately searched for a way out.

“Shit...!”

To my surprise, the man suddenly leaped upwards and climbed onto the roof of the train, attempting to escape me as he ran to the other end.

“Of course...” I hissed, putting my gun away. If I shot him while he was up there, there was no doubt the man would fall off. That meant I was gonna have to restrain this bastard with my bare hands.

Pulling myself onto the roof with an amount of strength I didn’t know I had, I broke into a sprint and furiously chased after Jesse as he bolted ahead of me, jumping from carriage to carriage while the train aggressively stormed across the bridge.

The waterfall was well behind us at this point, and all I could see right now was miles of open country...along with a deadly drop looming beneath us as it swallowed the bridge’s towering supports.

This was definitely not what I had in mind when I took the Arlingtons’ posters off that goddamned wall, and I sure as hell hoped this would all be worth it in the end.

I picked up the pace, hurdling over the numerous gaps laid out in front of me.

“Stop, dammit!” I shouted, gradually gaining on Jesse.

The outlaw had reached a dead-end by now, and was frantically searching for any other options as his eyes flicked around, his body coming to an abrupt halt once his gaze landed on me.

Jesse gritted his teeth in anger, sliding out a knife when he finally decided to confront me.

“You want the money you came for, boy?” He growled. “You’ll have to fight for it.”

Pouncing at me like a tiger, Jesse began violently swingin’ his knife around while the two of us fought in the middle of the sky, our clothes billowing wildly in the powerful wind as we barreled through Lemoyne’s countryside.

At this height -- combined with the train’s smoke whirling around us -- it almost felt like we was fightin’ on our own little arena above the clouds as we hurled each other around the roof, doing our absolute best not to fall off.

It was a one-way ticket to death waitin’ underneath us, and I had no intentions of hopping from this ride to another.

I quickly recomposed myself, prowling towards Jesse as I held my fists up in defense.

Throwing a flurry of punches at the outlaw, I ducked and swerved outta the way of his blade, the sharp edge just barely brushing against my skin as the two of us brawled on top of the train, tryin’ to corner the other on the edge.

There was a certain adrenaline sparking my movements -- one I rarely ever experienced -- and the longer the battle carried on, the more determined I was to shut this son-of-a-bitch’s lights out.

I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever was to come next.

Lunging at me with his knife, Jesse let out an angered yell and attempted to stab me in the abdomen, only to find himself locked in my hold once I grabbed his arm and bashed my forehead against his, stunning the man.

Dazed from the hit, Jesse stumbled backwards and dropped his knife over the edge, leaving him completely defenseless as he sluggishly rolled around, trying to stabilize himself.

Meanwhile, I took the opening before he could do anything else and hurriedly prepared my lasso, only to get kicked directly in the stomach once I got close to the man.

Using the opportunity to gain the upper hand, Jesse briskly tackled me to the ground and grabbed a handful of my shirt, hoisting me upwards as he dangled me over the train’s border.

Jesse’s disgusting grin returned to his face and he laughed lowly, more than eager to throw me off.

“You got nowhere to run, cowboy...” he taunted. “Nowhere except down.”

Sneaking its way into the scene, a second lasso suddenly roped itself around the both of us, tying me and Jesse up into a bundle as we stared at each other in confusion before being yanked back onto the roof.

I landed on top of the outlaw with a heavy thud, both of us glancing around to see just who the hell had joined the fight, only to find Eddie at the end of the rope.

The pianist steadily approached us as he unholstered his revolver, glaring at Jesse in a defensive yet somehow playful manner.

“He ain’t a cowboy.”

Pulling the trigger, Eddie fired a bullet directly into the man’s leg, causing him to let out an agonized howl while I slipped out of the lasso, lying still for a second as I caught my breath.

I lazily looked up at the musician, giving him a weak but thankful smile.

“...Bravo...”

He returned the smile, beaming at me as he hogtied Jesse properly.

“What can I say? I learn from the best.” Eddie stood back from the outlaw, admiring his handiwork. “So, what do we do now?”

I sat up and gazed at the view surrounding us, a breath of relief escaping me now that the fight was finally done.

“...We get our goddamn money.”

Eddie took a seat next to me, his legs hanging off the train’s edge.

“And after that?”

“Keep headin’ west,” I replied. “To Valentine. Possibly Strawberry. Hell, even New Austin if need be. Anywhere...but Saint Denis.”

The boy seemed satisfied with that and hung his head low, clearly drained of energy from all this action.

“Fair enough,” he concluded. “Just...no more trains, please.”

I laughed at that, removing my hat for a second as I combed a hand through my hair.

“Now that...is a promise I can’t make.”

A LITTLE LATER

RHODES, SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the Sheriff blurted out, staring at the two outlaws we had thrown onto the floor of his office. “You actually caught them. They make you work for it?”

I exchanged looks with Eddie, the two of us lookin’ like we had just gone to hell and back.

“A little.”

“Well, my deputies’ll take it from here. In the meantime, here’s your money. A hundred dollars, as promised. Spend it wisely.”

I grabbed the bill-fold off the desk, wavin’ a quick goodbye to the Sheriff as Eddie and I took our leave.

“Pleasure doin’ business.”

Stepping out of the office, the Sheriff called for his deputies to clean up the mess while Eddie and I wandered back into the quiet town of Rhodes, splitting the money we just earned.

I slapped fifty bucks into Eddie’s hand and beamed at him, praising the boy like a proud mentor.

“Good work, kid,” I complimented. “It ain’t exactly ‘easy money’ like I was expecting, but you did well anyway. And you saved my life, too. So, thank you for that.”

The pianist smiled bashfully and flicked his eyes towards the ground, his expression glowing with gratitude.

“Of course, Arthur. You’re worth saving...even if you may not believe it.”

I chuckled lightly. “Oh, I dunno ‘bout that...but I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, how’s about you and I get outta this hot weather and start makin’ our way to Valentine? It’s a calm enough town, and if we move fast, we should be able to get there by this evening. Maybe even stop at the saloon for a drink or two. Lord knows I could use one.”

Eddie followed me out of Rhodes, both of us feeling refreshed now that we were off that goddamned train.

“Nice to see you’re spending your money wisely.” He joked.

I gave him a friendly wink, slipping the bills into my satchel.

“Well, for a few dollars more, we might even get some proper food to eat. And I know there’s a saloon just down the road, but...I’ve had enough o’ this town. What ‘bout you?”

Eddie sighed in fatigue, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I think I’m more than ready to move on to Valentine.”

I stuck a cigarette in between my lips and struck a match, lighting the tip as I let out a breath of smoke.

A smirk crept onto my face.

“...Then what the hell’re we waitin’ for?”

[ayearofpike]

Witch World/Red Queen

Witch World

Simon Pulse, 2012 521 pages, 24 chapters + epilogue ISBN 978-1-4424-3028-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Wi 2012 OCLC: 924501501 Released November 13, 2012 (per B&N)

(HELL YES I DID take this picture in Vegas. Way back in November, underscoring just how behind this entry is.)

Red Queen

Simon Pulse, 2014 ISBN 978-1-4424-3029-7 LOC: PZ7.P626 Rd 2014 OCLC: 1030042441 Released August 19, 2014 (per B&N)

First I have to address the immediate question: It’s the exact same book. Like, down to pagination. (Yes, I read them both. We’ve already established I’m kind of a freak.) I don’t know why it has two different sets of catalog information. I don’t know why they changed the title, but I will hazard a guess that Witch World is a shitty title and it took slow or lacking sales for S&S to convince Pike/Pike to convince S&S to change it. I don’t know why they then picked a title that would be coming out shortly from another publisher, one that would go on to create a much more robust universe and move enough units to muddy any kind of search query. I don’t even really know why I bought them both. I don’t know a lot of things, and I’m not quite masochist enough to find out.

What I do know? This book is more of the same old shit. Like, OK, most people aren’t going to read all 95 of Christopher Pike’s books right on top of each other, so the connections and relationships might slide. But if you do, you start to see that this dude actually has no new or original ideas after ... let’s generously call it 1996. The beautiful girl in the California town in the middle of nowhere who goes on a weekend party outing with her friends, but then meets a dude with mysterious powers and ends up in a fatal situation, only to realize that she’s survived death and now has strength and vision beyond her prior ability or even imagination? A vision that taps her into an alternate parallel universe, where she’s had a child who has the potential to be the most powerful human ever, only evil forces know about this child’s genetics and want to use her for their own selfish and horrific ends? This is The Grave, gang. Well, mostly The Grave, with some Sita and Alosha and, yes, even Spooksville sprinkled in for flavor. But the point is, we’ve seen all of it already.

Pike has previously said that he felt rushed toward the end of his previous S&S days, and that he didn’t put everything he had into the stories he wrote because of being pulled in multiple directions. That’s fair, and it makes sense that he’d want to come back to something he felt wasn’t as good as it could be, something that didn’t get enough care and attention, and make it better. So it’s a little frustrating that this is what we get. Don’t get me wrong, it’s got a lot of potential, but then again, so did The Grave. I can’t help but feel like Pike is still just trying to figure out what has sold, what has been attractive to people who read his books and others like them, and is retreading so much old ground that it’s starting to become flat and uninteresting. (Which might be part of my reticence to finish this project.)

One thing that’s new and notable about WW/RQ: it marks the placement of Pike’s first YA F-bomb. He’s been using “damn,” “hell,” and “bitch” since the beginning, and starting with EoI (eliding maybe one or two in Whisper of Death) he began liberally (not literally, mind) dropping “shit.” But “fuck” has been sacred, hallowed ground, off limits in any but his adult novels, never mind that this is pretty much what all of his characters want to do all the time. So imagine my profound shock when I picked this book up right around its release date* and encountered the word “unfuckable” on page 18. A sign of the times, yes, and of what was becoming permissible in YA, but to someone who had grown up with Pike and expected a certain voice and stance, this felt kind of wrong and out of place. Much like my opinion of Pike in the 21st century in general.

*This was another random club store find in a rural town in southern New Mexico. I don’t know why the store where I mostly bought diapers was getting Pike in hardback on or near release when nobody else even knew these books were available, and can’t imagine I’ll ever find out.

OK, summary time. Jessie Ralle has just graduated from high school and her entire senior class is going to Las Vegas to celebrate. Said entire class is like 200 people — so not only does Pike still not get what a small town is, but he demonstrates increasing disconnect from how young people actually act. Vegas is a two-hour drive from Apple Valley, California (where Jessie’s mom relocated them after her Hollywood doctor dad bailed on them for a hot young nurse, and also where none of this takes place). I barely even wanted to drive across town to my senior party, to say nothing of paying for a hotel and a fancy dinner with a massive group that I barely know. And that was before the Internet and streaming media allowed us to prune and curate what (and who) we interact with so ruthlessly. Like, if this was a class of 40, I’d be on board, but 200?

But apparently it’s a close-knit 200 people, even though we only ever meet like six of ‘em. Jessie’s riding in a car with four others: her best friend since childhood, the uptight salutatorian, the class nerd who of course has always had a crush on Jessie, and Jimmy. Jessie has loved Jimmy from afar since the beginning of high school, and from up  close for a couple of months this past winter, but he dumped her to go back to his previous girlfriend, who graduated early and hasn’t been seen around town since. That doesn’t mean Jessie is over him — far from it, actually — so this car ride is either going to work out in her favor or be super awkward and uncomfortable.

They get a three-bedroom suite at the MGM Grand for $150 over a weekend somehow. It is all I can do to suspend my disbelief. Like, I’ve been to Vegas (obviously; see top image). Pike obviously has too; his description of spatial mechanics is (mostly) on point, which is what makes this price thing so jarring. I’ve been responsible for booking hotel rooms there off and on for the last 20 years. And the one time we ever got a suite, it was almost twice that PER NIGHT and still only had one bedroom. (We split it six ways, and we all HAD jobs.) And this was in the beat-ass old Luxor in September 2006. Ain’t no way these fucking CHILDREN managed a SUITE in a PREMIER CENTER STRIP HOTEL SIX YEARS LATER FOR LESS. And Jessie has the gall to fucking COMPLAIN ABOUT THE COST.

I MUST STOP YELLING. I am so a dad, right?

But anyway, Jimmy doesn’t have a room — he wasn’t even sure he was coming on this trip. Jessie’s best friend offers for him to stay with them, which Uptight Salutatorian bitches about, but like, chill the fuck out, there’s a couch, right? He and Jessie have to talk about whether this is OK, and it turns out he left her because his ex was pregnant, but the baby died just after he was born. And Jessie isn’t OK. They’d been together long enough that this smacks of either an excuse or a manipulation, and she doesn’t like either option. She kicks him out and cries a lot, and then the gang all goes to dinner at the Bellagio, which is where this starts to get financially realistic when half the class balks at the cost of the meal and fucking bails. Yet the restaurant serves the rest, even giving these (again) CHILDREN bottles of wine, which messes Jessie up enough to kiss Nerd Crush. In front of Uptight Salutatorian, who (it turns out) likes HIM. So everyone gets pissed off at each other and takes off, and then Jessie and Best Friend go see O (the Cirque show inside the Bellagio). 

It’s page 35, by the way. Almost 500 to go yet. At least from here the story gets more focused and straightforward.

After the show, they want to gamble. CHILDREN. But they have fake IDs, so they head down to the Tropicana, an older hotel with lower minimums on blackjack, where they bump into a dude who seems strangely familiar to Jessie, even though she’s sure she never met him before. This dude is in town for a medical conference ... Jessie will later learn about his genome-scanning technology and what it implies for people like her, but she’s gonna have to figure it out first. He has an uncanny ability to win, and people start asking him for advice, but he denies them all. Except Jessie. They quickly pile up hundreds of thousands of dollars, which is where she’s hosed because they’ll never let her cash out that much with a fake ID. So the dude gives her his room key (not at this old-ass dirtball hotel, at the Mandalay Bay across the street) and says he’ll get her money and bring it up in a minute, and she should order some dessert from room service while she’s waiting.

No, they don’t fuck. They almost do, but then Jessie remembers Jimmy and realizes she’s still hung up on him, even though he wronged her and left her hanging. But she learns that the dude will cop to some unnatural method of knowing what’s coming next in the deck, which is why he managed to bet properly at the right times. He doesn’t show her, but he does teach her how to play twenty-two. Not twenty-one, which is blackjack: in twenty-two, aces are only worth one, but red queens are eleven. And if you get a natural twenty-two (queen of hearts and queen of diamonds), you win instantly, PLUS your opponent HAS to try to win their bet back in full on the next hand. The dude doesn’t state why these are the strict rules, but he does imply that a portion of the winnings goes to some mysterious party that doesn’t come clear yet.

So Jessie goes back to the hotel, where Jimmy is sitting on the floor outside. He’s been sexiled from the nerd’s room, because it turns out he was OK going after Uptight Salutatorian (who I guess isn’t so uptight after all). And he’s crying and he’s apologetic, and this coupled with Jessie’s realization in Mystery Gambler’s room is all it takes for her to accept him back. They have breakfast with everyone the next day (room service, more invisible money spent) and then Jessie and Jimmy drive out to Lake Mead to splash and swim and sex. But what’s weird is that it reminds them both of the first time ... which neither of them remembers the same way. Even more awkward is the ex showing up with a warning: “They never take just one, Jessie. They always take both.” (102)

This doesn’t make any sense, right? Well, Mystery Gambler has planted a seed that things might get confusing pretty quick, and invited Jessie to talk to him about it. So she hops in a cab back to his hotel, except the cab takes her out to a creepy industrial area instead. When it finally stops at a stop sign, she bolts, only she doesn’t know where she is now. Luckily, a beautiful woman in a red Porsche pulls up at that exact moment and offers to give her a ride. Which ... aren’t you even the slightest bit concerned that a strange car brought you out here and now another strange car has just pulled up right when you needed it? Obviously not, which is what leads to her getting tased and waking up in a meat freezer, where the safety ax is of course missing. She wrestles with the door and some meat-hanging apparatus for a while, but can’t get it open and ends up spraining her ankle in the process. And even though it’s dangerous to sit, to slow down, to stop moving in this freezer, Jessie can’t help herself.

She wakes up in a hospital. Only this room doesn’t look or feel like a typical hospital room. Plus, she can’t move. She can’t even blink. She’s briefly relieved when two doctors come in, but that goes away when she realizes they’re here to perform the autopsy. The senior doctor gets called out, which is all the other guy needs to start satiating his necrophilia all over Jessie’s corpse. He’s pretty shocked when Jessie suddenly sits bolt upright and curses him out — enough that he has himself a nice little heart attack right there in the morgue. The other doctor comes back, and she seems to know what happened, and is also weirdly thrilled by the guy’s obvious pain? But she leaves without taking any action, and Jessie sees this as her chance to get out of Dodge.

The hospital is downtown, which is a long way from the MGM Grand but at least it’s an obvious straight shot on Las Vegas Boulevard. Only Jessie doesn’t recognize some of these north-end casinos. She goes inside one to get her bearings and is quickly accosted by three punks, who she casually injures like it’s no thing. What’s even stranger is how quickly they back off and the degree of respect they suddenly accord her. And even stranger than that is that the blackjack tables don’t say “blackjack.”

You guessed it. People in Las Vegas are playing red queen.

So now she has to talk to Mystery Gambler more than ever. She walks all the way to the Mandalay Bay, because fuck a taxi anymore, right? Only it’s called the Mandy, and his room on the top floor is now one floor lower than it used to be. But as it turns out, he does have some answers. He first tells Jessie the truth of why he's in Vegas: his whole medical conference story is just a front. There is some basis in reality, in that his group has identified certain genes that, when awakened, enable essentially superpowers. His genetic sensor identified that Jessie has seven of these genes — but he already knew that. He seems to know a creepy amount for some rando she just met. And also, he keeps calling her Jessica, and she realizes she's using a longer version of his name too, reflexively, even though he never called himself that in their interactions.

This, plus the hotels and the casino game and the fact that, y'know, she woke up on a fucking MORGUE TABLE a few hours ago help Jessie to realize the truth of her situation. With a little guided meditation, which helps her to remember things that never actually happened to her, she learns that there are two simultaneous dimensions happening on Earth, we live two lives in parallel, and the extra genes (when activated) allow people to experience both. These people, historically, are who we think of as witches, so for lack of a better term this second dimension is colloquially called witch world. Like, super lazy writing, right? I guess Pike blew his load inventing names for shit in Alosha and couldn't be arsed to consider that maybe twelve thousand years of connected humans might have named something themselves. (Yeah, I said twelve thousand years. Back at it again with the same timeline.)

But one of those things Jessie remembered is having a baby. This is where her father (remember, the dude who bailed on Jessie and her mom) suddenly shows up. We learn that he left (in the “real” world, not in witch world where he’s still present in her life) because he realized the importance of Jessie and her fate, and hoped that his absence would protect both her and the baby to come. (He has the "seeing-the-future" gene, I guess?) According to Dad, this baby is potentially the most important person in the history of both worlds, because she's the only one to have ever been born with all ten extra genes. It's also a weird connection, because this is the only occasion that anybody knows of where a child has been born to different parents in the two worlds. (The kid is an entirely different person because of that, so that's weird too.) But, just like the boyfriend's ex-girlfriend warned, "they" have taken both. 

"They" turn out to be a cadre of witches who want to use their powers to elevate themselves rather than ... well, it's never really made super clear what the "good" witches do. Like ... hang out and be immortal? Oh yeah, I didn't mention that once you're awakened you can't die of natural causes. I guess the dad says that sometimes they'll interfere when shit is really going sideways, but for the most part they want regular humans to regulate their own affairs. It's the Telar again! Only, no, wait, they call themselves the "Tar" in this book so it's obviously totally different. And yeah, both babies have been taken; they let the boyfriend think his son died in infancy so that he'd eventually be a lever to manipulate Jessie when he realized he had two living children. But it sounds like the daughter is already causing trouble for her kidnappers, without even being aware of her ten genes, which ... 

I don't know, it doesn't make any sense now that I'm writing about it. Like, I'm cool with the parallel dimensions, I'm on board with dying to become awakened, I'm down with extra powers and whatever. I'm even mostly OK with this story reusing so many assets from all these past books. But like ... how does the baby have some (even unconscious) control of her locked genetic powers when her counterpart in the real world is not only still alive, but had a different MOTHER and is therefore a totally different PERSON? The first chapter of the sequel (all I’ve read of it so far) doesn’t make it look promising that we’re ever gonna find out, so just keep suspending the shit out of that disbelief, I guess.

But anyway, now that Jessie’s connected, she’s hell-bent on rescuing her baby. Which I think she would have done even if she were still separated, but whatever. And I know, easy to think that not actually having a memory of the baby might make it difficult, but these memories are slowly bubbling up and emerging, especially strong ones like parenthood and family. She’s been warned against contacting Jimmy (or “James,” I guess) in witch world, but she doesn’t hesitate to tell him all the crazy shit that’s happened to her in the real world.

(This is another reason I have a problem with the lazy naming conventions on display. To witches, “witch world” is the most real. Each day takes place first there in their perceptions, followed by the same day in the “real world.” We’ll also see how events in witch world have a stronger effect on events in the real world; namely, if you die in witch world you pretty much always die in the real but the inverse is not true. So, once again, why wouldn’t witches have come up with some more appropriate naming patterns at least, given how old the oldest is? Just more lazy crap we gotta swallow.)

So anyway, Jimmy doesn’t believe her; he thinks someone drugged Jessie with a hallucinogenic and now she’s having altered state memories. So she gets out of the car they’re driving to the desert and picks it up to prove her new strength. Why are they driving in the desert? For some reason, Jessie is drawn to the power associated with the nuclear tests that the government ran in the barren nowhere that is most of Nevada. There’s gotta be a reason, after all, that the centers of witch power are here. So they bust into the deserted testing ground, only to discover it’s not that deserted — there’s a kid out there apparently living by himself. He takes to Jimmy immediately and agrees to come back to the city with them, where they’re going to talk more to Jessie’s dad.

The kid can’t speak, but he can write — with a prehensile tail that he has heretofore hidden by wrapping it around his waist. He tells them about the other freaks that live out in the nuked test cities, as well as the mean man who brings him food. The rationale isn’t clear, and the kid isn’t talking ... well ... you know what I mean. But this is where Jimmy finds out his son is still alive and being used as bait. And dude fucking TAKES it: as soon as his ex calls and wants to discuss what she might know about the children, not only does he refuse to step back and let the powerful people handle the rescue, but he actually wants to go through the death process in order to awaken his awareness of both sides.. They don’t let him do that, because apparently our good guys are not allowed to actively connect more witches, except when they are. So all they can do is talk to the ex and learn that she doesn’t care who she sells out to as long as it saves her son, which ... fair. But Jimmy isn’t willing to go that far, and they head back to her dad’s house to regroup, where they realize they’re being watched.

Or they were, I guess. There’s a car with two obvious spies in it, but they’re dead, and the killer is hanging out nearby. This dude is, we learn, second-in-command of the Tar leadership, a five-thousand-year-old Celt who wants to take a more proactive approach in encouraging good and deterring evil in both humans and witches, mostly with his sword. He’s a Highlander, is what I’m trying to say. He takes Jessie out to a sacred spring in the mountains, where they swim naked together, as you do when you first meet an ancient Celtic swordsman, right? But there’s some cliff writing out here, written by the ancient people in a script the Highlander knows, having been taught it by the man who turned him so many years ago. It describes a woman who will have such power that she controls the destiny of the world, and it’s essentially Jessie’s daughter. So like ... tell me something I don’t know, right? What’s more new and unusual is the Highlander’s description of red queen, how it was taught to him and spread throughout ancient Rome, and how a certain percentage of all winnings, no matter who takes it, has to ultimately return to his benefactor, who we’ll call the Alchemist because that’s what Pike calls him.

We’re going to have to wait on more description, because the Highlander takes Jessie home and we skip-cut forward to the next night in witch world, where she’s meeting the leadership council and discussing their intents to rescue the baby. Mystery Gambler is there too; he's going to act as Jessie's liaison to the bad guys, having served as a double agent since the Civil War. This scene seems like it might be superfluous, except that you mostly only retain the memories from the dimension in which you die, and so the council knows that Jessie needs some backstory.  (Don't we all.) The main thing we get out of this is that they've kind of figured out that WANTING to activate their witch genes has a high correlation with witches going bad at all, especially when they try to engineer the birth of high-number witches. So Jessie's contact with Jimmy was carefully arranged so as to appear NOT engineered, because even though the future sight told them that these two were compatible and would fall in love and make a power baby, any appearance of forcing it could make things all fucked up.

So Jessie's entire life is a sham, manipulated by sources of power she was never supposed to see, one of those being her own goddamn father.

What next? Well, on to the other purpose of this meeting: prep for said meeting with the bad guys. The council expects that they're going to offer Jessie her baby back, as long as both of them live under bad-guy control, and they want her to string them along while they figure out what to do. Great fuckin' plan, guys. You've been trying to make a power baby for how many thousand years, and you didn't have a contingency plan if it got kidnapped?

But so Jessie and Mystery Gambler go to the next meeting, and this is starting to sound like work. As it turns out, the leader of the bad guys is (plot twist that surprises nobody!) the coroner who was unfazed when Jessie sat up in the morgue. She's making this deal because the baby is difficult, and they think that if she has her mother that they'll be able to control her and her powers. They let Jessie hold her, which activates even more of those mom connections, but when they go to take her away the baby cries and creates almost a physical wall, which the big strong guard man has to fight with all his might to overcome. President Coroner has no qualms with the possibility that she might have to kill both baby and mom if they don't cooperate. In fact, she invites Jessie to die right here and now, by forcing her to fight for her life against Mystery Gambler. For Jessie, this is proving her worth and her importance in being allowed into the bad-guy circle. For Mystery Gambler, it's a step up to a higher ranking of leadership. For President Coroner, it's TV. So they have a monster sword fight ... well, Mystery Gambler has a sword; Jessie has a bamboo stick that proves its power when she somehow shoots fire out the end and totally incinerates the dude. Which is cool by the bad guys, because they already knew MG was a double agent and wanted him dead anyway. And then there's another kid ... this one with a tail ... only instead of a blunt prehensile end, this one has a stinger like a scorpion's. Guess whose kid THIS is.

Back in the real world, Jessie and Jimmy go see her dad, who confirms that there was a mysterious fire on the top floor of the Mandalay Bay the night before, with one fatality. Which ... does this even come close to matching the timeline? How could it have already happened if the day hasn't happened yet? But whatever — the important thing is that the council wants Jessie to accept the bad guys' offer and go live with the baby. The tail-boy is still here, though Jessie's dad says he's riddled with malignant tumors and can't possibly live too much longer. But they realize that if he can tap into those cross-dimensional memories, the way Jessie and Jimmy were doing when they argued about fucking all the way back ... two days ago, then maybe they can use him to triangulate the area where witch-tail-boy lives, presumably with President Coroner. He leads them to a gated community at the base of a mountain, which they figure is good intel to take back to the council even if they're not ready to investigate yet.

Jessie does want to try to find the area where she got dumped and zapped the day she was killed, for ... you know, reasons. She hears cries of pain coming out of the sewer in the general area she thinks it was, and in investigating she runs into the big mean guard from the bad guy meeting. He thinks it's been a waste of time trying to get her on their side and is just about to kill her when the Highlander shows up and unceremoniously lops off his head. He has some more info about what might be going on down here, and it has to do with his dearest and oldest love: that’s right, President Coroner. 

They met in ancient Rome, around the turn of the calendar, but every effort they made to procreate ended in tragedy. One son was killed in battle fighting the Huns, one daughter (and her children) died of the plague, and a final son (who, let it be known, they named HERME) disappeared during the US Revolutionary War. All this loss made the poor woman so bitter and angry that she naturally began striving for control, including supporting Hitler (like, literally helping him) during WWII. The Highlander thinks there's another dimension to her having gone there, though: somehow she can feed off the pain of misery and death, and is addicted to it. Also, it gives her another power of being able to confound people, which the Highlander experienced when trying to reason with her around the time of the Hiroshima nuclear explosion and again when the power baby was kidnapped. Is it helping anybody that he's holding out on the council with this info? 

So he takes Jessie back to the hotel, where she owes her best friend an explanation — only she already knows. Turns out that this dude she's been hooking up with in Vegas is a witch too, and has explained to her the ins and outs and difficulties of what's going on with Jessie, up to a point. Turns out this dude is ALSO a double agent, here supposedly on assignment from the bad guys but just about ready to turn face, at least partly because he's found himself in love with the friend. After two days. His primary power is the ability to change his appearance at will, which Jessie learns in a jarring fashion upon waking up in witch world and finding a tall hunky dude in her suite in place of this pudgy nerd. She has that gene too, he says, and helps her start down the path of disguising herself. She quickly gets good at it and then realizes: couldn't I use this power to sneak into that gated community and steal back my baby?

Obviously it's not going to be so easy as walking into the joint and walking back out with The Special, even disguised as President Coroner as she is. First of all, she doesn't even know for sure that the baby is here now, and she does know that the actual boss is in town, not here. (Lucky thing, right, when she goes through the guard shack in full makeup.) So instead she goes to Jimmy's ex-girlfriend's place. Don't ask me how she knows that THIS is an option, or that the girl is indeed even home, or that she is living there at all. There's not even really a reason to believe that she can help, or that she even KNOWS anything about the baby. But Jessie's concerned about the competition, and fairly confident that her target doesn't have the strength gene and will therefore be easy enough to overpower. It proves true in terms of tying the girl up and throwing her in the trunk of her car, but Jessie isn't counting on being lied to. The ex kicks through the backseat and forces Jessie off the road, where they have an epic Matrix battle that culminates in Jessie punching a hole in the gas tank and exploding the thing with an emergency flare. She feels a surge of pleasure while the ex-girlfriend dies, which is ... creepy? Shows some link to President Coroner? What else does it mean?

It at least means that Jessie should be prepared when she goes to talk to President Coroner tonight. She buys a handgun at a pawn shop, then meets Jimmy James in front of the Tropicana, where the big ugly bodyguard picks them up in a limo. James takes a little while to get in the car, and he doesn't sit right next to Jessie for some reason. The car takes them back to the gated community, to the biggest house, where President Coroner is waiting. Negotiations don't really go as well as could be hoped, since the boss already knows that she's not the one who kidnapped the ex in the trunk of a car. But while they're working out their threats and measuring their dicks, who should walk in but the Highlander. He's finally talked the Tar council into using brain powers to murder his dearest love, and as one person has to be present to make it work, guess who volunteered. Only the big mean bodyguard is holding the baby, and he'll rip her in half if they make a move against his boss. This is a good time for the best friend's boyfriend, the shapeshifting teacher, to appear out of thin air, grab the gun out of Jessie's waistband, and cap the bodyguard in the head. Yeah, he was sitting between them for the whole car ride, like there's not enough seats in a limo for him to stretch out somewhere else. Cockblocker.

But here's the weirdest part: President Coroner recognizes him. That's right, bitches — Herme lives! He has seen the evil his mother is doing and has finally come out of hiding to try to help put a stop to it. And James helped him because he knows what's going on in both worlds. He's experienced it, actually: after Jessie fell asleep, he killed himself (with Herme's help) so he could be fully present and help in witch world. I have more timeline problems and concerns, obviously, starting with the question of how Jimmy could possibly be here today if he hasn't yet killed himself, but that's not where the characters are right now. Right now they're concerned with stopping this ultimate evil who doesn't seem to care about murder. So Herme and his Highlander dad point blue brain lasers at President Coroner, who generates a red bubble to stop them, because everything we have to know about good and evil energy colors we learned from Star Wars.

And now Jessie finds herself inside the red bubble. She's been the most susceptible of those exposed to PC, after all, and so she might be convertible to the pain-suckers. She relives all of the memories that our dear villain has of her children dying and of how the pain could be turned into a pleasurable sensation, and it's just hypnotic enough and convincing enough that, as Jessie finds herself back in her own body, she can be persuaded to take her gun back from Herme and shoot the Highlander. He doesn't die, but he's weakened enough that President Coroner can steal his sword and stab him in the heart.

So now what? Well, it's a good thing Jimmy's here to save everybody! What would we do without a white dude who's barely aware of his powers? But he knows that together, with Jessie and the baby, they have a strength that is impossible to overcome. So they manage to paralyze our villain, but now her scorpion son shows up and wants to murder too. Only — plot twist! — he murders his mom! Turns out that when Jimmy killed himself, he also killed tail-boy in the real world, and now HE'S got good-guy memories. This is really telling about President Coroner's parenting skills that all of her living children not only think that she has to die, but show up to help DO IT.

But now all is good and we can move forward as a family, right? Totally! At least until Jessie wakes up in the real world and finds Jimmy lying beside her, still and cold and dead.

This would have been a good place to stop, right? Of course he doesn't. Two days later, Jessie and her best friend are home from Jimmy's funeral, talking about what's going on and all the implications, when suddenly there's a sound at the door — the mail box. (Does anybody still have one of these shits in 2012? Most rural neighborhoods are going to the community box.) Jessie collects the mail, among which is a red envelope containing a letter from the Alchemist (remember that dude) anticipating a future meeting and sending best wishes from ... President Coroner.

And that is the end of Witch World! Or Red Queen, whichever one you picked up. Like, are we starting to understand how Pike has so little grasp of world-building that he has ALREADY killed his main antagonist AND the potential monkey wrench in Jessie's future relationships? Doesn't he realize none of us are going to get invested in a world where you don't stay dead after you die? I mean, except zombies. But since that's not what we're talking about, I can't possibly imagine where Black Knight is going to take us. I mean, I can, because I've read the back copy, and it doesn't look remotely related. Maybe that's one more reason I've been stalling on this entry: to keep me away from the annoying-looking next one.

[that-vicious-vixen-blog]

Airing my thoughts on 13 Reasons Why

What’s interesting is that I wasn’t passionately for or against the show until the last two episodes. I didn’t think it was good per se; character arcs were weak and not at all satisfying, plot points were left dangling, very few of the characters were likable...but we figured we’d finish it since we’d started it.

WARNING: this post will contain MASSIVE spoilers for the show 13 Reasons Why, as well as discussion of rape, mental illness, suicide, and all the other god-awful things that happen to these kids in this show. With that out in the open, click the cut for my bullet-point thoughts on the show.

1. These kids are deplorable. With the exception of Clay, Jessica, and MAYBE Sheri, I have a hard time feeling any sympathy for the myriad of monsters and bullies that were thrown at me. The harder I think about a character the more I dislike them, remembering issues they could have tackled or times they could have stood up for someone. And don’t pull that “they’re teenagers, they’re developing!” bullshit on me. If I had the opportunity to stop a rape I would have. I got a kid suspended from our high school for telling a girl he WANTED her to be raped. Marcus and Courtney were gross and more concerned with being the best than helping people in need. Justin, Alex, and Zach VERY ardently protected a rapist from being exposed. Am I supposed to feel bad for Tyler? He was a sexual predator. I don’t fucking pity him. 

And you keep waiting for someone to learn a lesson! You keep waiting for someone to change, to make the right decision, to step forward! And they don’t! Sure, they all start to come clean at the deposition, but that only seems to be out of fear of getting in worse trouble for getting busted. Alex FINALLY shows that one of them can feel remorse and he attempts suicide over it! Awesome message, show!!!

2. Wow. Clay is fucked up for life. ”Clay, you shouldn’t be on those tapes because you’re a good person but once when we were about to have sex I told you to stop and you didn’t push. You should have pushed!” Are. You. Kidding. Me. Like. Was I supposed to find him problematic because he’s a shy kid who didn’t always know what the fuck was going on? And now he’s being tormented through these tapes and by the kids at school, nasty little punks who don’t want to take any accountability. Also, remember how I mentioned dangling plot points? What the fuck happened to those hallucinations he was having? The poor got hit in the head MULTIPLE times, was clearly suffering a concussion, and they never touched on it again. I was in so much pain watching HIM in pain. And then his suffering was for nothing. Yes, he got Bryce’s confession, but we got no confirmation that the little bastard ever had charges pressed against him. 

“Am I the reason Hannah Baker killed herself?” “Yes.” NO. No Clay, you are not at fault for Hannah’s death. And it is wrong and disgusting that you never got to learn that in the show. You can’t love away someone’s mental illness, their hopelessness. And no one, not Hannah, not Tony, not you yourself, have any right to put her death on you.

3. What the fuck was that ending? So you’re giving us this bit of hope through Clay reaching out to Skye. He gives a big speech to the shitty guidance counselor about how we have to try better, to do more for each other, which I can totally get behind (though it’s not your fault Clay). And then we find out that Alex tried to kill himself and Tyler is planning on shooting up the school. WHAT THE FUUUUCK DUDE? You’ve completely taken away from whatever weak ass ending/lesson you were going for. Instead, you’ve shown that there’s no hope for any of these kids. Justin leaves town to go who the fuck knows where. Do you think he’s going to have any luck on his own? Alex is dying. More kids are going to die at Tyler’s hand (again Tyler you’re no fucking innocent you’re a predator). Jessica sure as hell ain’t going to be fine. Also, Clay’s relationship with his mother is a loose thread just hanging around for no reason. We see her finding out he had the tapes, and then nothing. Show’s done. 

4. Man, what were those parents? It’s like the show’s entire attitude towards parenting was, “Eh, they suck as guardians but they’re well meaning.” Each kid on that show had the exact same set of parents for chrissakes. 

5. Okay, let’s discuss the suicide and rape scenes. They were graphic. Incredibly graphic. During one of the rape scenes (there are two instances, one is shown multiple times) the camera was zoomed in on Hannah’s face and you could see her body rocking as Bryce thrust into her. For a while. During the suicide, we were treated to the image of Hannah actually cutting her wrists as she cried out in pain and struggled to finish the task. We saw her parents find her body in the bathtub, saw their breakdown (I got to watch my parents sit with my brother’s dead body. Kate Walsh deserves an Emmy. It hurt to watch). We saw it all. And it was filmed beautifully. And that makes me nauseous. 

6. Did we learn anything from this? I’ll level with you. I’ve been a victim of penetrative rape (not that non-penetrative isn’t just as traumatic). I’ve lost someone very close to me before either of us graduated high school. I’ve messaged my therapist at three in the morning because I wanted to hurt myself and I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I’ve fucking been there, again and again. And I came out okay. I was one of the lucky ones.

I felt no hope at the end of this show. I didn’t feel like anyone could walk out of it understanding mental illness, or victim’s rights, or rape culture, or anything that could save these kids from the bleak world they (we) live in. It didn’t tell kids how they could survive these social trip-mines unless you have a tape recorder and you don’t mind taking a beating to get someone’s confession. I walked out feeling sad, and broken, and tired, and hopeless. And that’s not something you can risk, with the type of people this show is going to attract. It makes me genuinely afraid for anyone who might go into this show not having a decent idea of what they’re getting into.

But hey, it’s the most Tweeted about show of 2017. Congratulations.

-

If you’re having thoughts of self-harm and suicide, please reach out.

If you’ve been the victim of sexual abuse, you have options and you have my support.

[forsythexposed]

Tamla Horsford Death Forsyth County

Tamla Horsford death investigation, Forsyth county

Tamla took being a mom with great pride, always doting over her boys. Had there been a manual on raising kids, keeping calm, and being organized. She wrote it. There are three things about Tamla. She loved her family; she loved life, and she loved you. To know Tam as people often called her, was to know what pure joy and happiness looked like. How did such a beautiful woman, that had so much life to live, and so much to offer the world end up dead?

My baby loved to have fun, she loved to dance. She loved life. Lee Horsford, Husband of Tamla

National outrage local silence. This is the story of Tamla Horsford.

When Lee met Tamla, he met his best friend. And, when Lee wanted to

Tamla Horsford -Wedding Day

Tamla Horsford -Wedding Day

move his business from Florida to Cumming, Georgia. Tamla was a game. An adventure, new scenery, new memories, and better educational opportunities for her boys.

Tamla first met Michelle, her new neighbor, after moving into her new home in Cumming, Georgia. Well, their kids met, and then the adults met soon after.

Tamla’s boys were all boys. Involved in everything, from sports to after-school activities. Being a “boy mom” was never easy, but she loved every moment. Including football.

Tamla Horsford

Thanks to social media, Tam could keep in touch with all of her friends and family. Continually posting pictures of the family, particularly the boys and her friends.

Tam didn’t spend many nights away from her boys, but whenever she did, she called frequently and was sure to pack snacks after cooking dinner.

That night Saturday, November 3rd, was an exception. She and a few others “Football” moms would celebrate two things, Jeanne Meyers turning 45 and surviving another season of football.

As Tam was fixing dinner for the boys, Michelle dropped by. They chatted about the boys and did what women do, gossip. Tam told Michelle her plans for the night and invited Michelle to tag along, she declined. Those weren’t really her people. Not skipping a beat, they continued to talk and laugh like they have known each other their entire lives, but they have only known each other for 5 years.

Michelle and Tamla

She was late, fashionably late.

The boys came first, and she made sure she knew that they situated before leaving. In true BYOB style, Tam brought an imported tequila. Tam was from the Caribbean; she liked stronger drinks. Not the wine coolers, the desperate housewives were sipping.

The social butterfly. Tam never met a stranger though she wasn’t familiar with everyone present that night; she extended a hug and flash a smile to everyone. She played card games, took two or three shots, and face-timed her family to check on the boys and to show off her beautiful babies. Because before anything, she was a mother.

She wanted to leave.

Something that night made Tam feel uneasy, and she wanted to leave. But they would not allow her. Though they do not mention it in the multiple police reports gathered that night, someone took her keys and her phone. Something that night happened to this mother.

A faint knock on the door awakened that morning at 8:45 Jeanne Meyers, the homeowner of the house that was hosting the party. She and her boy toy Jose Barrera lay quiet in the bed, and the faint knocking happened again. Jeanne then summonsed the knocker to come in.

Madeline Lombardi, Jeanne Meyers’s aunt, who lived in her basement, was at the door. She needed to talk to Jose. Tells Jeanne that something is wrong with one of her friends. And she tells Jose to come to look.

Madeline didn’t call the police; instead, she called Jose. Madeline didn’t try to help Tam; instead, she called Jose.

Jose Barrera-Tamla Horsford Forsyth County

Jose Barrera-Tamla Horsford Forsyth County

Jose Barrera threw on some shorts, ran down the stairs, and yelled to Jeanne his much older girlfriend to bring her phone. Jose’s career background is in probation/law enforcement. He’s trained to study body language, perform CPR, and to be quick on his feet.

Instead of trying to feel for a pulse or even rolling Tam over, he bent her leg instead. Why? What training did Forsyth and Hall county provide that bending a person’s leg who is not responsive seemed like the best thing to do.

On Sunday, November 4th, 2018, it was cold outside, its Georgia.

Tam lay facedown in Jeanne Meyers’s backyard while she and Madeline Lombardo watched Jose Barrera attempt to bend her leg. A hung-over Jennifer Morrell came out a few moments later. Watching. They all waited while a mother like themselves lay face down. No one attempted to give Tam medical attention, no one. Jose Barrera instead paced around her body, poking at her as he replayed the events from the previous night. Almost ignoring the dispatcher’s questions,

“Can you tell if she is breathing.”

They dispatched the police, crime scene, and to the home of Jeanne Meyers. Not an EMT or any medical provider. No one attempted to help Tamla Horsford, the mother of five boys. She laid face down until the coroner collected her. And took her to the GBI headquarters.

They found her “face-planted,” as described by Jeanne Meyers. Tamla Horsford wasn’t wearing shoes or a jacket. Stacey and Thomas Smith had her cellphone. Unlike Tamla, She would have never separated herself from her boys, and having her phone would have provided her communication with them, had an emergency arose. It was cold, and she only had on her pajamas, no shoes, no jacket. Also, unlike Tamla, Let me explain.

Tamla was from the Caribbean.

She enjoyed warm weather and a good time. One of her friends even noted she always wore a jacket indoors,

“Tam was cold nature, we used to tease her a lot about always wearing a jacket.”

I’ve mentioned multiple times that Tamla Horsford was a mother. Because before anything else, that is what she was. Tam didn’t arrive at the party on time because the boys came first. She and her husband Lee did everything possible for the boys, any move or decision always went with the boys in mind.

If it ain’t right, it ain’t right.

Michelle Wynn Graves is that ride or die friend that everyone needs.

Nothing about the statements given to police or even the explanation given by police made sense. So, Michelle Graves told them. Since the mysterious and suspicious death of her friend, Michelle Wynn Graves has been vocal about trying to understand what happened that night. Even with Jeanne Meyers and the Forsyth 12 trying to silence her.

Abuse of process and intimidation are crimes, so is filing a false police report. Jeanne Meyers filed a frivolous and fictitious police report against Michelle. She then attempted to get a stalking order taken out against her. Because what Jeanne Meyers was saying made little sense, so Michelle became very outspoken in her quest for the truth.

Jose Barrera

I wouldn’t be writing this article if it were not for Jose Barrera.

Because a healthy black mother that ended up dead under very suspicious circumstances is not at all suspicious. Nor is it newsworthy. But when a court employee who was a witness of death is under investigation. Barrera misused his work credentials to look up information on a case and gets fired, is newsworthy. And with that, it flicked a tiny spark with me, and the rest of the world got to know Tamla Horsford.

Aside from her family and friends, no one local to the case made any effort in solving it. They even interviewed witnesses an entire 3 weeks after the fact. And Jeanne Meyers also interrupted Madeline Lombardo’s interview to give the detectives Dunkin Donut’s gift cards. Like even she realized that this isn’t the sharpest group of cops she’s dealing with, or they were cheap. Cheap and dumb, and she could sway them with donuts.

Forsyth police

Jose Barrera had connections inside Forsyth County sheriff’s office.

Before being rendered unemployed for his policy violations. He has ties and connections with multiple LEO’s in Forsyth County and the court. Not a single investigator said, or thought it was a good idea to have an outside agency to investigate this? No. The world-class and sophisticated detectives that makeup Forsyth county’s criminal investigation unit did not. Investigator Michael Edwards Christian initially thought Tamla, tripped over a small object in the yard, ground level and had a medical emergency and died.

The investigation was half-ass.

They left evidence at the scene. Responding officers drove Tamla’s car to her home. The investigation into her death stood still until Sandra Rose posted about the case on her blog, and others online took notice of the claim. Within a week, the sheriff’s office wrote a statement. The following week they held a press conference announcing the case had been closed, and her death deemed accidental.

Unacceptable. From the case was incompetently and grossly mishandled. Ron Freeman, the sheriff of Forsyth county, claims Forsyth is a former shell of its racist past. And now a progressive county. That was a lie. Forsyth is still as racist as they were 30 years ago that they are today. Prosecutors are still over prosecuting people of color who are being accused of crimes and under prosecuting crimes when they are the victim.

I could have been Tamla Horsford, my mom, sisters, aunts, friends, even cousins. You could have been Tamla Horsford.

Tamla Horsford was a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. She laid face down and not a signal person from the homeowner, her alcoholic friends, the passive aunt, her boy toy boyfriend, nor any of the responding officers attempted to help Tamla.

Both Jose and Jeanne spoke as if they already knew she was dead before attempting to help her. Tamla Horsford laid face down for hours, and no one helped her. These actions within itself are criminal. Tamla Horsford deserved better, her boys and family deserve more. Demand justice for Tamla Horsford.

Tamla Horsford

Forsyth County News.