#horse tornado indeed

[beetleskeleton]

Some doodles of the beetle that align with the notes

Y’all have left me no choice/lh

Beetle lore drop

—

Beetle is trans and gay. I will not elaborate further.

In Pico’s School/Pico 2, Beetle is 13, almost 14. In Fnf, Beetle is 19. 

Femur breaker. Beetle has the jaw strength of a spotted hyena and takes great pleasure in snapping bones in half. Take that as you will. 

On that note, Beetle does not bite playfully. If they bite you and you’re a friend, it is very lightly and mostly to tell you they are not in the mood. They could snap your bones in two if they wanted, they just really worry that they’ll do it by accident. Beetle does not know their own strength and it scares them. Beetle won’t care if you do it to them though, which is why Nene gets away with it all the time. 

Beetle is indeed a shapeshifter, but like in my sona post explaining it briefly, they are limited into what they can shapeshift into. They can learn how to transform into other creatures, and also learn to change the size of said form, Beetle is just really slow, so they can only shift into a cat with a few varying sizes.

Shapeshifters like Beetle can pick and choose to learn what things they want to turn into. When they first start out, they have a clean slate, an empty palette so to speak. So, they can learn whatever form they want to start. Of course, there are recommendations of where exactly to start. The smaller animals and creatures are much harder to do, since it’s easier to expand organs than to shrink them. In that logic, Beetle chose to learn how to do a cat first. It’s one of the easiest forms to learn.

Yes, shapeshifters can get stuck, but it usually isn’t too difficult to get out. Sometimes the body can work itself out after a certain amount of time. Worst case scenario, they’re stuck with like a horse leg for an arm for 20 minutes.

Beetle has been stuck before, especially when doing smaller sizes. 

The smallest they can shapeshift into is the size of a mole.

Beetle does not like living in the city at all. They skedaddle away to the countryside as frequently as they can whenever they get the chance, which is unfortunately not that often. They miss their hometown a lot.

Beetle’s biggest means of affection is gift giving in both giving and receiving. They have chronic crow brain.

Beetle’s favorite kind of bones are skulls, any skull. Rodent, feline, canine, any skull. 

Any bones that they have are all scavenged. They would rather jump off a bridge into a river of broken glass than kill a living creature for its bones. Their proudest bone that they have is a large deer skull. The first bone they ever scavenged themselves was a rabbit vertebrae when they were 13.

Very interested in witchy stuff. Sage burning, moon water, crystal collecting, the whole nine yards. 

Squeamish. There’s a reason why they can’t stand being around the Pico gang when they’re on missions and whatnot. They can and will faint at the sight of the red bodily fluid. They can barely make it through their shark weeks.

As much as they have changed by the time the FNF timeline rolls around, they are still a goth at heart. They still listen to Guns N’ Roses and Megadeth on a daily basis. Their favorite songs from GNR are Sweet Child O’ Mine and November rain ←(it makes them cry every time). Their favorite Megadeth songs are Tornado of Souls, Symphony of Destruction, and Promises. 

Other bands and music artists that Beetle likes are Sir Chloe, Mr Floyd Larry, Cosmo Sheldrake, Nirvana, ABBA, Alex G, and many others.

The genres they typically like are alternative/indie rock/rock. But they also love metal and alternative folk.

They can sing pretty dang well (school choirs will do that) and they know how to play the piano. They also know how to play the acoustic guitar.

Beetle hates Papa Murphy’s with a burning passion. Little Caesars or bust.

Fatherless behavior™

Their favorite kinds of cheese are mozzarella and parmesan.

Besides being AuDHD, obviously, they also have C-PTSD, GAD, and DPDR. (I'm aware that other mental disorders exist.)

They do take medication for GAD (General Anxiety Disorder). They’ve been taking this medication before they even came to Philly, so it isn’t something that necessarily stemmed from the events of Pico’s School. It is worth mentioning that they increased in dosage after the fact, though. 

Beetle was acquainted with Pico, Nene and Darnell before the events of Pico’s school. Darnell specifically seemed to click more with Beetle, which is why they were more open with him in Equal Grounds. They feel like they can trust him a lot, because they know he’s a lot smarter than people take him for socially wise. They respect that. 

Beetle is 5 '3 in their regular state.

Beetle will go feral for huckleberries and raspberries. 

They walk out into the wilderness unprompted sometimes. Times of which this occurs differ, but never in the middle of the night. Say they walk into the woods at around 12 pm, they will be coming back out by 10 pm at the latest. 

They have a strong sense of smell and are really good at tracking.

Beetle has four siblings. They’re closest to the second oldest.

[isamerceds]

dogs definitely bring that perfect chaos. they're like furry little tornadoes of love and mischief. i have three dogs, canela, bonbon and pluto! i don't know why but people fall in love for bombom so fast, you have to meet her! do you have any dogs? oh man, childhood memories are the best. what's your favorite? humbling indeed, and sometimes downright hilarious. that meme hits the nail on the head—we've all got those stories that we'd probably rather forget but make for great laughs in hindsight. the land of tire swings, horses, and cracker barrel. it sounds like a dream! there's something so refreshing about being outdoors. holy shit, cracker barrel—definitely an essential stop for some good old-fashioned comfort food. i grew up in cleveland, ohio! but also spent some time in peru! shit, yes, that excitement on set—trying to resist the urge to snap a selfie in the makeup trailer or sneak a behind-the-scenes peek. it's like trying to contain a burst of confetti sometimes.

That's true. No wonder everyone says dogs are everyone's best friends; they really add a perfect chaos to our lives. Do you have any pets? Hahah, I love the humbling experiences of our childhood. What's that meme? "You would do it too for a check"! My favorite thing in Nashville is probably just being outside. I love tire swings and being on the horses. Cracker Barrel is essential too. What about you? Where did you grow up? Yes, absolutely. I love the excitement still. I guess it's like when someone's on set and it takes everything in us not to take a selfie in the makeup trailer.

[savagenewcanaan]

Michael Savage New Canaan Muscle mass Cars and trucks - It's a Love

After years as well as years of listening to just how muscular tissue cars are out of below never ever to be seen once more, I'm starting to assume that all these individuals that hate muscle vehicles are shedding the fight. Back in the mid to late 1970's I listened to that gas prices would certainly eliminate American muscular tissue automobiles.

However in the 1980's when the federal government got hard on emissions, as well as started to eliminate power that all autos had, yet still the muscular tissue auto had made it with the tornado, perhaps you simply can not kill American vehicle history.

We had Ralph Nader telling us that cars and trucks were the source of every one of the pollution troubles on our earth, when in reality autos just encompass regarding 1% of the trouble, and also you can obtain much less emissions and still have power. This whole point is simply people that don't like automobiles.

Michael Savage New Canaan

American muscular tissue automobiles belong of our nations history, and also you don't just wipe out history. I see various companies and business that are bring back all sort of houses that are thought about historic landmarks, as well as individuals are quiting them from being taken apart regularly.

What is the difference between this background, and our country's automobile history, simply clarify that to me. You can not because vehicle background is equally as crucial, and also auto lovers will constantly like vintage cars and muscle vehicles as well as they will certainly constantly recover them.

I love timeless American vehicles and also I have from the first time I ever seen one, as well as I will till the day I die. Of all the classic automobiles and the American muscle mass cars are my favourite of all times, if you wish to know why, I'll attempt to describe it to you.

Have you ever really felt pure raw horse power and torque, otherwise it feels type of like obtaining pressed truly hard, however at the same time your pinned to a seat, and also you can not relocate the car is so powerful that your immobilized in your seat, until you feel this you can not recognize what I indicate.

It's a sensation of being the only one in an auto similar to your own. It's regard for American resourcefulness and also recognize just how, it's the body lines of a timeless American muscle car, it's the sensation you get when your behind the wheel, it really feels just like pure contentment that can not be put down by anyone.

It seems like you're the king of your domain, it feels like driving a masterpiece, and also it seems like your god, it the best high that you can achieve driving a cars and truck, there is nothing else like it on the earth, muscle mass cars and trucks will constantly be here, and also males will constantly like them.

Michael Savage New Canaan

Absolutely nothing else is fairly the same as driving an American muscle mass car, as well as I'll be right here to defend them for a long time, every single time I listen to people condemning muscle mass automobiles for yet an additional wrong, as well as informing people how much better the import companies develop cars and trucks.

I'll constantly come going to the defense of American vehicles, and also indeed that will certainly always include muscle cars and trucks. Nobody builds a much better auto them we do, and no one ever before will, instead it's a classic car, or a new automobile America will certainly constantly build the very best automobile period.

I'm American to the core, I believe in all things American, and that makes it my responsibility to defend American muscle autos. It's not that hard when you like things that you protect, I enjoy America as well as it's vehicles, so if I have anything to claim about it.

Nobody will ever before belittle the American muscle mass car, no one will certainly destroy it's tradition, and also the Detroit motor companies will certainly constantly be god in my eyes. They have actually constantly built cars and trucks that America enjoys, automobiles that resemble nothing else auto, they build American vehicles.

[mudzdale]

i think the thing that disappointed me abt centaurworld was that it didnt tell the kind of story it was cut out to be. or at least that it could have been. obviously the show’s primary gimmick was the clash of a cutesy, cartoony, largely nonsensical world versus the standard edgy, war-torn fantasy realm. so i figured it was going to be like a. who framed roger rabbit kind of thing. teaching Horse to find the fun in life thru friendship with zany cartoon-people

but then they introduced the taurnado and i was like OHO. now THIS is interesting.

this adds some depth to the world. suddenly wammawink’s insistence that they all just stay safe in the bubble makes sense. this world is lovingly hostile to its own inhabitants. its a zany, rainbow gilttery cartoon world that also wants them dead. theres something incredible about the concept of a sentient tornado made up of the very souls it’s taken, which actively hunts and desires to add more to its collection. and takes the form of a centaur as well

...but then they didnt proceed any further with that. all the dangers posed thereafter indeed seem to be only brought about by other centaurs, or brought upon them by horse’s grimdark fantasy world. the one whole episode that was largely a theater + cats the musical parody, like...... there was the, um, whaletaur who eats ppl who are, suicidal? which was an. interesting element to have in Zany Cartoon World. but even she was ultimately just some guy, not a malevolent force of nature

i guess i just think leaning into an Environmental Horror would have been fun, because it could have lent another angle to the roger rabbit kind of story i was expecting--just as horse needs to learn softness and friendship, the centaurs need protection and self-defense skills to make their home a safer place. which they also could have achieved by utilizing The War as a narrative element differently--that also felt like an incomplete arc that should have been seen to. why did the war come to centaurworld forcefully enough to leave wammawink an only-survivor war orphan, yet the rest of her universe has never even heard of it? how did that all come about?

heck, even the war itself is kind of a goofy narrative device IMO... the driving force behind it, the nowhere king, isnt some kind of malevolent, ancient power, barely held at bay by mortal forces across the centuries. he, too, is just some frickin guy! theres no way his reign exceeded 1, maybe 2 decades. not that his character/motivation etc was uninteresting per se. but it seems kind of silly that ultimately some dude who Wasnt Like Other Girls gets to take up the mantle of the ~Nowhere King~ with this totally bomb little lullaby theme, and hes not a Force of Nature or didnt make a Pact with one or anything. man just had a tragic backstory and built himself a nuclear reactor. downright odd, is all

anyways that digressed a lot but ultimately i just go back and listen to taurnado and im disappointed that was more or less the only song of its breed that came out of the show. its probably just entirely personal preference on my part. but i would have much rather had a show that explored a survivalist twist on the goofy cartoony universe instead of consistently dedicating songs to things like one of the character’s father-son relationship with his. own butt /:

[visd3stele]

magic and kids

summary:

A/N: I really hope you like it. Thank you for your requests. Loved writing it.

art credit: @phantomrin

TW: none

@britishbookworm2 requested (if you want to leave a request as well, click)

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It's been four years since Taryn decided the mortal world would be a more suitable place to raise her child than Elfhame. Even if her sister was now High Queen, the fairies would still make life hard for her and her baby. Maybe not on purpose, she admits it. But magic runs wild, free and unstoppable. Used to it, the Fae Folk barely notices the dangers. And frankly, they don't care. Not allowed to use it on humans as cruelly as before, some meaner courts claim innocent ignorance. How can an entire society of enchanted beings change overnight? How could they be expected to adjust to human fragility all of a sudden?

So Taryn took her baby, promised her sister to visit and fled to Heather and Vivi's. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Getting used to the mortal world, that's it. And if her baby had longer canine than normal, or his ears sharpened to pointy edges to the top, it passed unnoticed. Her son certainly didn't stood out the way Vivi did, even with light brown eyes that looked orange in the sun and rusty red hair. He didn't need much glamouring either, not like Oak, Oriana or Madoc. By the time she sent him to preschool his hair was long enough to cover the ears and no one seemed to notice the teeth even without magic.

For all the talk Taryn did on how she wanted her son to be free of his father in all ways, snapping at Oak when the boy tried to teach him magic before he knew how to properly walk and forbidding her family to bring Fairyland up, she named him Renard.

Fitting, though not what she should have done. Maybe part of her can't let Locke go, not entirely. She knew he didn't particularly wanted the baby, that everything he promised her were pretty lies. But for a few months, it has been real. Their marriage, their love, their lives. She saw her dreams come true, one after another: the mistress of an important household, throwing parties for courtiers, motherhood.

Now that everything she wanted snaped broken in tiny little pieces carried away by harsh winter wind, Taryn Duarte couldn't phantom having her child become like his father.

"It has nothing to do with magic, for fuck's sake!" Vivi exploded once, after Taryn better than not threw Oak and Oriana - who came to visit - out of the apartment for trying to reach Renard's magic. "He won't become a sly, selfish fox if he can change appearance or grow horses out of leaves. It's all about his up-bringing!"

"I want him to be normal, Vivi! That's why I took him here!"

Renard has been barely one year old when the argument happened. But it was enough to take his mother's words to heart.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Four years old Renard and twelve years old Oak played outside, jumping in crusty piles of autumn leaves. The princeling hadn't given up his plans to teach his cousin magic. He refused to let go of such opportunity: a friend he didn't have to hide of, one he could play with like he used to in Elfhame.

"Hey, Ren-Ren," Oak said, "check this out!" The older boy held up his hand, brows furrowed in concentration, lip grazed between his teeth. Nothing happened for an alarming amount of time. And then... the leaves twirl around the two cousins, splashing then with guts of wind and scarce dew as it swept them up in a friendly tornado.

Renard chuckled in delight, stretching to catch some of the closer leaves. But as soon as he touched one, the whole thing fell apart. "No!" Do it again, Oak. Do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ren-Ren," Oak faked a yawned and laid on the ground. "Magic is very serious business. Very consuming. I'm too tired to even move." He let his eyes close dramatically, watching Renard between his lashes. Truth be told, every time he did magic Oak felt good. Vibrant. As if the earth itself reached out and gave him life. But Renard didn't need to know that yet. He can definitely learn it by himself if Oak's plan works out.

The younger boy pouted and dropped on the ground. "Not fair," he muttered to himself.

"You know, Ren-Ren, you're half fae. That means there's a pretty good chance you're magic too."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't know that. Come on, give it a try!"

"No, Oak! I'm not magic. I'm not like Father, I'm like Mom. Like Mom, just like that."

Oak straightened himself, but didn't rose from the ground. "Ok, Ren-Ren. Listen up. Magic is not bad. It's fun. Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yes!" Renard nodded enthusiastically. "It's super fun. When you do it, Oak." At that the named boy own enthusiasm faded away in an instant.

"Thank you, Ren-Ren," he deadpanned. "But do you know what's more fun than watching me practice magic?" Not giving the kid a chance to answer, to even take in the question, really, Oak said "To do it yourself."

"Do you really think I should try, Oak?" Clearly, the little boy was attracted to magic. And clearly something was stopping him. But his older cousin slowly made whatever that was seem less big and scary, dragging him along in his qualms.

"Totally!"

Renard pushed his lips forward with his tongue, sticking it out through the gap in his teeth. Caramel eyes shone with desire, his red hair flown around by a cold, pleasant wind. "Ok," he gave in, as expected. "How do I do it?"

The smirk that lightened up Oak's face can only be describes as evil. Though no ill intention hid behind it. Only the knowledge his plan worked out, just like his sister, Jude's.

"Listen to me very carefully, alright? There is not just one way to make magic, Ren-Ren. You have to find your own. But for now, try the basics. Think really hard on what you want to happen. Something easy. Got anything in mind?" Renard frowned, then his eyes landed on a tree which still had some green leaves on its branches and nodded.

"Perfect! Now, imagine whatever you want to happen. Imagine it happening. Are you imagining?"

"Yes."

"No!" Oak groaned. "If you're paying attention to me, then it means you're not focusing on magic."

"But how will I know what to do if I don't listen to you?"

"I told you! Magic is your own, Ren-Ren. It comes naturally. So, dig it up. Use your imagination."

Renard tried to shut out the world around him, picturing the sole tree in his mind. A warm pull tugged at him and he followed. His magic, he tried not to dwell on the joy, but instead focusing on his practice. His magic reaching out. Because he reached out first.

The boy allowed the warmth to take control, guiding him through it. The tree now carved in his mind by detail wasn't enough. He needed action. But just imagining the leaves to fall wouldn't do. Renard couldn't say how exactly he knew it. He just did. Something more tender was needed. The half fae kid had to imply what he wants and trust his magic to follow his lead.

So Renard made himself cold. Chilly. Feeling a breeze of wind creeping inside his clothes, whipping his skin gently. Enough to rip a leaf off a tree, though. Which it did. The wind he summoned couldn't be felt, not really. Only by himself and the green leaves that departed one by one from their branch as if plucked by an invisible hand.

Oak gasped. Then grinned. And then he laughed. Renard broke free of his concentration, pleased to see his magic didn't falter. Not until every and each green leaf from his chosen tree didn't fall. The sight made him still in awe for a couple of seconds. But soon enough he joined his cousin with a bubble laugh, jumping up and down and running to tackle Oak in a tight hug.

"I did it, Oak! I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Rem-Ren. Indeed, you did. Congrats!"

"Can we show auntie Vivi? And auntie Oriana?"

When Madoc and Oriana first came in the mortal world, Taryn wanted nothing to do with them. But years of being cared for by the blue skinned, white haired, pink eyes woman showed their tale. She agreed to see her, but only her. She could be part of her child life, if she wanted.

"Sure. But don't you want to show your mom first?"

"Mom and auntie Heather work a lot. We can show them later." Renard said, but he felt his magic shrinking at the thought of his mother. His Mom didn't like his father. And his magic comes from his father. Is that why his magic doesn't want to reveal itself near Taryn? He hoped it was just him overthinking it, because he loves his Mom and wants to share this with her.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Oak stayed with auntie Oriana, who was his mother, so Renard couldn't bring himself to be upset over it. He would want to be with his mother as much as he can as well. So he did a little trick for auntie Vivi, who told him to stay where he was, brought a camera and ordered him to glamour the tea cups again. Renard made them look like pumpkins, since the Halloween being over the corner made him impossibly anxious - in a good way.

Turns out even mortal technology can be fooled by fae's magic. Vivi showed the clip to Heather, who coed over him until Taryn came home.

"Hello, treasure. How was your day? Wanna give mommy a kiss?"

Renard jumped into his mother's arms, pressing a strong kiss on her cheek before starting to tell her about all the fun he had with cousin Oak. "And then he said I should try magic too."

Tamryn stilled. "And?"

"Look, Mom!"

Renard broke a vase, then, with a twitch of his fingers put it back together. "Auntie Vivi says I'm a natural."

"Does she? That's amazing, sweetheart."

But his mother didn't sound thrilled. In fact, her smile wasn't even a smile at all, but a thin line. "I'm sorry, mommy. I knew I shouldn't've done it, but I didn't know why. Now I know: you don't want me using my magic. It'll make me bad, like father."

Renard pushed his lips up front, scrunched his nose up, wiggled his toes, all in an atempt to stop the tears hurting his eyes from falling. When he realized it was in vain, he took off running to his room.

When Taryn entered minutes later she found her son curled on his left side in the middle of the bed, hugging a black goat plushie his uncle Cardan gave him on his birthday tight to his chest. She hated herself for causing the pain struck look on her son's face.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom." Renard wiped his nose with his jumper's sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy was just scared, but that's not your fault. You could never be bad. Magic is not bad. Of course you can practice all you want, but we'll settle some ground, basic rules first. Ok?"

"Really?"

"Rules you can never, ever break. Really."

"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best! Just wait until Oak hears about it."

A/N: Renard means fox in french. Also: oops, guess I finished it earlier than expected and didn't really felt like waiting days to post it 😅

[okruchlodu]

A woman, indeed; a sorceress; a witcheress; child of old, ancient blood, daughter of Chaos; and hers, hers, hers; theirs. There is not a thing neither of them would not do to keep her safe, alive. As long as she, and him, have warm breath in their lungs, nothing shall ever touch her, thinks Yennefer fiercely, her heart flooded with furious love and impatience that she does not know what to do with but swallow, the enormity of her feelings, choking her. In spite of this, the sorceress smiles, says, voice soft with laughter, ❝ — how very literal, Geralt! ❞ she clicks her tongue in amused exasperation at the answer that she receives from Geralt, watching him, too, as he slows his horse to a trot. Her features are, in comparison to the witcher's, quite complementary.  They are soft, emphatic as he speaks; her eyes express a quiet, indulgent concern that does not quite make it to her lips, even as his expression darkens, visibly upended by whatever fate awaits them just beyond the sunrise. It is slight, the change in his expression, only noticeable to the caring, delicate eye of a dedicated lover, but it is no less apparent to Yennefer who knows the wolf to his core, knowing that unease riddles the waking and unconscious mind of the wolf.

He smiles then, and she returns it easily, her heart warm and tender at the sight of that crooked grin of his, the way in which the sun sluices over the silver of his hair, glinting like shards of ice.

The way in which the light catches her violet eyes as she fixes her gaze upon him is not unlike the reflection of a devoted moon, always and forever revolving around the center of her gravitational pull … her sun; him. The sky above them is thick and dark with clouds, the air around them wet with the promise of a storm, sweet with her perfume as she comes to a halt somewhere near him, gathering her reins in one hand. She nods a little, dark curls spilling in a tornado down her shapely back, shiny and rippling, as she says, help me get down then, says, only half in jest, yet mayhaps tomorrow I shall have to employ some magic to hasten our travels... knowing full well, he shall not let her; not after what happened when last she tried to cast a spell not two days ago, her body still far too frail to endure the casting of creational magic. ❝ — it shall get dark soon. I will light us a fire. You get us something to eat. ❞ Yennefer's voice is birdsong, a note of fealty amidst the drums of war. She patiently waits for him to dismount so that he might help her, too, get off her horse, draping her gaze around the glade, violet eyes lit from the retreating sunlight. The air is warm and fragrant, and as she inhales, mist touches her throat, something cool and sweet. There is adequate shelter beneath the trees here, and a lake nearby. The smell of malt greets them, wet, sweet berries, bluejays flitting about in the trees near them, the first night breeze through the leaves, a russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, the silk of her black curls. She wonders if she could mayhaps somehow conjure up a bed for them to lay in, yet knows she must preserve her Chaos and not waste it on frivolous luxuries. He shall provide warmth and comfort enough for her to sleep, she decides.

He rather enjoyed the way that she moved about, the way she proudly sat atop her horse. She's beautiful and being around her managed to pull him out of the grime of the shit world around them. They were in the middle of a mess but it was so easy to lose himself to the feeling of being there beside her, of catching the scent of her wafting about in the air. He liked looking at her profile, at the way that her hair bounced with her movement. It reminds him of - But then his mind cuts the thought off when she talks about Ciri. That draws his attention away from being alone with her so that he could focus solely on their mission. This mission of theirs that would bring their family together again, after all of this time. She was right. Ciri was a woman now and, even though that made him nervous, it still filled him with proud. He and Yennefer - and yes, even Dandelion - had done it. They had managed to protect her and, of course she had even protected herself. "She is a young woman." He stated, tucking away his need to get closer to her as he turned his eyes some to look at her, catching the features of her face as the sun above danced in those brilliant eyes of hers. "I do have to wonder whether or not she takes after you or me." He gave her a crooked smile then. "I'm sure that she's waiting for you."

That sun that filtered through the trees started to become ginger, gray clouds danced across the golden rays. The was starting to pick up, fluttering through the raven strands of her hair. He could smell the storm on the wind, could feel the heaviness of the sun as it started to dip into a paler version of itself. "I think a storm is coming." He told her, slowing Roach to a trot so that he could speak clearer with the wind that was starting to pick up. "I'm sure that Ciri would understand if we didn't ride headfirst into a storm." He gritted his teeth some. Even if he did want to get to Ciri immediately. "I'd rather not have to rely on magic to survive."

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

The Weather In PJO (brought to you by gods and demigods)

*alternating colors for ease of reading

**page numbers look weird because they're copied/pasted from ebooks

“Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.” - TLT pg 33

“One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.” - TLT pg 65

“Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. [...] Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten.” - TLT pg 156

“There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.” - TLT pg 176

“I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn’t dreamed that.” - TLT pg 491

“It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me.” - TLT pg 520

“BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.” - TLT pg 629

“The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.” - TLT pg 988

“In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades’s fault.” - TLT pg 1191

“I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.” - SOM pg 10

“After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of us came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea-an island with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.” - SOM pg 598

“A storm raged that night, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did. Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in our valley. We were protected again, thanks to the Fleece, sealed inside our magical borders.” - SOM pg 1045

“Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn’t seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much.” - TTC pg 11

“Old spirits are protecting the bad boat.”

“The Princess Andromeda?” I said. “Luke’s boat?”

“Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy’s storms. Otherwise he would smash it.” - TTC pg 210

“Clouds seemed to be swirling around its peak, as though the mountain was drawing them in, spinning them like a top. “What’s going on up there? A storm?”

Zoë didn’t answer. I got the feeling she knew exactly what the clouds meant, and she didn’t like it.” - TTC pg 751

“I will do my best to destroy his boat with storms, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. They will fight to protect him.” - TTC pg 886

“We were standing at the dining pavilion, just where we’d last spoken before I went on the quest. The wind was bitter cold, even with the camp’s magical weather protection. Snow fell lightly against the marble steps. I figured outside the camp borders, there must be a blizzard happening.”- TTC pg 915

“The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn’t see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn’t give any hint that anything was wrong.

“It’s even worse,” Annabeth said, gazing to the north. “The storms have been bad all year, but that—” - BOTL pg 359

“I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. And I let it loose in one horrible scream.

Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.” - BOTL pg 618/619

“Mrs. O’Leary howled. I patted her head, trying to comfort her as best I could. The earth rumbled—an earthquake that could probably be felt in every major city across the country—as the ancient Labyrinth collapsed. Somewhere, I hoped, the remains of the Titan’s strike force had been buried.” - BOTL pg 1005

“I remembered what Tyson had told me at the beginning of the summer. “The old sea gods?”

“Indeed. The battle came first to me, Percy. In fact, I cannot stay long. Even now the ocean is at war with itself. It is all I can do to keep hurricanes and typhoons from destroying your surface world, the fighting is so intense.” - BOTL pg 1066

“Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll through the armies below us.” - TLO pg 153

“I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path— ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys. “Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction." The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. I couldn't tell which one. Inside the storm I could see the giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast.” - TLO pg 216-218

“Over the city, a thunderstorm boiled—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing. A column of dust rose from a mound of rubble, which I realized was a collapsed skyscraper. [...] Wind whipped her hair. The temperature was dropping rapidly, like ten degrees just since I'd been standing there.” - TLO pg 468-470

“She faltered as a mighty groan cut through the sky. A blast of lightning hit the center of the darkness. The entire city shook. The air glowed, and every hair on my body stood up. The blast was so powerful I knew it could only be one thing: Zeus's master bolt. It should have vaporized its target, but the dark cloud only staggered backward. A smoky fist appeared out of the clouds. It smashed another tower, and the whole thing collapsed like children's blocks.

The reporter screamed. People ran through the streets. Emergency lights flashed.” - TLO pg 470-471

“Listen to me!" I said. "Kronos's army is invading Manhattan.'"

"Don't you think we know that?" East asked. "I can feel his boats right now. They're almost across."

"Yep," Hudson agreed. "I got some filthy monsters crossing my waters too."

"So stop them," I said. "Drown them. Sink their boats."

"Why should we?" Hudson grumbled. "So they invade Olympus. What do we care?"

"Because I can pay you.” - TLO pg 654

“Water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. The wind picked up, and Hyperion staggered backward.

"Percy!" Grover called in amazement. "How are you doing that?"

Doing what? I thought.

Then I looked down, and I realized I was standing in the middle of my own personal hurricane. Clouds of water vapor swirled around me, winds so powerful they buffeted Hyperion and flattened the grass in a twenty-yard radius. Enemy warriors threw javelins at me, but the storm knocked them aside.

"Sweet," I muttered. "But a little more!"

Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on Hyperion and blew him off his feet.” - TLO pg 903-904

[pallastrology]

moon in aries

With the Moon in Aries, we find an individual who feels things plainly and powerfully. This is someone with strong emotions, who may be prone at times to big “outbursts” of emotion.

Lunar Arians are bold in their emotional expression, and may find it important to burn off energy to help them better deal with their feelings. Physical outlets can be helpful for these natives, as Aries is such a powerhouse – it’s a little like letting a bucking horse get it out of its system before asking it to behave, really! I feel that lunar Arians can find it hard to figure out what their emotions are at times, because they aren’t naturally reflective, but in my opinion, reflection is a skill rather than a talent, and being able to reflect on oneself and their emotions is a useful one indeed. The Moon in Aries brings a big heart, big emotions, a simple kindness, and bags of creative energy, if channelled wisely. It can also make one impulsive and hotheaded if not channelled wisely, so learn to breathe and burn off your emotions, rather than resorting to less helpful coping mechanisms.

Aries Moon can be one of the sweetest placements in my opinion, because they are very pure when it comes to their expression of emotions. They may not always be the person who gives you a pep talk, but they will hold your hand, walk miles with you, cuddle you up, and just physically be there for you through whatever it is you’re going through. They feel their own emotions at full strength, in quick, hot bursts. They tend to be prone to blushing, tension headaches, and sometimes acne due to the physical affect their feelings can have on them. Because of their opaque nature, Lunar Arians can find it difficult to access their emotions again once the initial storm has passed. Sometimes their experiences can feel like lightning bolts, disappearing after just a second and leaving only an echo behind. It can take them a long time to develop the capacity to reflect accurately on their emotions and feelings, and this can be very uncomfortable.

Something else that Aries Moon can struggle with, is sitting with uncomfortable feelings. Aries handles things with movement and attack, while acceptance and rest isn’t really on their radar. Learning to “sit with it” rather than running away from, or distracting themselves from, their emotions can be a terrifying experience for our Aries Moon friends, but it’s a useful skill to have in their arsenal. Sometimes they need somebody to sit with it, with them, someone who can help them carry the weight of their souls when they are finding it too heavy.

To summarise: Aries is a very honest, and sometimes quite vulnerable position for the Moon to be in. They are strong-willed, big-hearted and very kind, but can appear selfish at times because their emotions can feel like a tornado, leaving them shaken to the core. They don’t always know it, but they need some softness, some warmth, and some time to rest. They are creative, pure and quick to become engorged with emotion. They are a placement that can achieve anything their heart desires, if they learn to master themselves.

[keltonwrites]

I'm not sure if that's a good thing

“Well you’re definitely the first.” This past week, we screened-in the eastern facing porch on the side of the cabin. The porch slopes to the South, with the brick-on-dirt floor crumbling in that direction as well until it reaches uneven slabs of stone acting as steps down to the “yard” below. A mixed material retaining wall wraps beneath the steps to the south facing garage, holding up one corner of the narrow deck on the front of the house. The deck, in the heat of a high altitude summer, droops off the house like it’s daydreaming about the winter snow’s embrace. It’s safe to sit on, though I would not recommend leaning on the railing.

The side porch takes the brunt of the wind. Our wooden rocking chairs have been rocked some 20 feet into the yard more than once in the two months we lived here. In the myriad of threats we heard about the weather, most people included the wind. We all know how I feel about this ongoing weather intimidation tactic. I asked, “what speed are the gusts?” “Oh, they get up to 70 miles per hour on some days.” This was the first quantifiable piece of weather information someone had offered — an actual number we could react to with data and our historical personal experiences of various weather events. And our reaction was: uhhhh…. OK???? Look, I get it. No one’s preaching the skin benefits of -20 degree wind gusts at 70 mph, building snow drifts against your house in the span of minutes that Cooper could die in. I am not going to pretend that’s pleasant. But 70 mph? Any wind I’ve driven faster than does not intimidate me. I used to rally the horses at 12 years old in winds over 70mph to get them in the barn before the latest tornado whipped through. I helped shutter the resort in the BVI as the Category 5 hurricane rolled in. Even in Topanga, 70 mile per hour gusts were not uncommon in Santa Ana events. We had our single pane windows shatter more than once from debris in the wind. We taped cardboard up and went to sleep. That “70 mph” was all I needed to hear to confirm our next project: we were going to build a catio for these cats, and we were going to do it on the pre-existing porch structure to save time and money. We spent a week framing out the structure. We had to carve into the logs of the house to embed the wood supports for the framing.

And from there, every piece of wood was custom carved and cut to fit around the existing timber supports. The existing porch was so wildly uneven that there are gaps between each piece of old wood and the new framing. Our plan is to mix all the wood chips from the project with mortar/chinking and stuff the gaps — a good solution for the log cabin look. We built a plywood pony wall up to 28 inches from the interior of the porch, which gives a height of ~4-5ft from the exterior ground below. It’s capped with a 2x6” railing for even the fluffiest of cats to find a perch. The exterior will be wrapped with corrugated metal that we’ll quick-age to match the metal that wraps the bottom of the cabin. On the interior of the porch, we’ll use shiplap to hide the framing.

The screens themselves can withstand winds up to 120 mph, but to-be-determined if they can hold the weight of a growing maniac cat who has already tried to climb them. In the event the screens succumb to cat (or wind or snow or neighbor judgment) we’ll reinforce with metal mesh. We’re going to maintain this screen porch regardless of what the screen is. We had the pleasure of running into one of our more industrious neighbors the other day, and Ben asked him, “hey we’re building a screen porch. Is this a terrible idea?” He laughed. “Well you’re definitely the first.” But he liked it. Great way to diminish wind into the house. Simple way to regulate the temperature with massive south-facing windows. And indeed a practical outdoor safe haven for cats in predator territory. Just because you’re the first doesn’t mean you’re foolish — just foolhardy. There’s plenty of that here. This town has the typical mountain town’s truncated version of a colonizers’ history: “established 1881.” But it was plenty established prior to that by the Uncompahgre Band of the Ute Nation, removed by the U.S. Army on September 7, 1881, nearly 140 years ago. The government relocated the Uncompahgre Ute People to Utah, and one year after the Ute were forcibly removed from their ancestral land, San Miguel County split off from Ouray County and was made its own political subdivision in the newly-formed State of Colorado. In 1879, the ore-laden valley already had 50 people living in it, with a new narrow gauge railway only 2 miles away. By 1885, it was a town of 200 people. There was a hotel, a couple saloons, a pool hall. Winters were treacherous; the valley was and is prone to avalanches. But where there’s gold, there’s gumption. The power needed to run the stamp mill to process ore drove innovation. Timber was scarce at such high elevations, so a wood powered steam mill wouldn’t cut it. But the San Miguel River just a few miles down from the mine looked promising. Thus began the development and construction of the Ames Hydroelectric Generating Plant. It was a hit. In fact, it was so successful that the Ames Plant led to the adoption of alternating currents at Niagara Falls and eventually to being adopted worldwide as a viable power solution. The plant remains, but the gold rush obviously didn’t. By 1940, the U.S. Census declared this little town I call home as tied for the lowest population in the country: 2 people. By 1960, it was one of four incorporated towns in the U.S. with no residents. But the joke was on the Census — the town’s single resident was just out of town the day the census came through. 1960 population: 1. By 1980 the population grew to 38, 69 in 1990, and about 180 now. (Plus 51 dogs according to the town’s website.) With modern amenities, it’s easier to be here. Studded snow tires, satellite internet, solar panels, instant coffee. No matter the hardships, there’s the reality of the present. In the 1880s, as the town boomed, the Ouray Times declared, “it will be at no distant day a far more pretentious town than it is now.” That day hasn’t exactly arrived, but I guess it depends on what you consider pretentious. I don’t think the town claims any airs of excellence beyond what’s true. In fact, the town hardly claims anything at all. There’s no sign indicating it’s even here. There’s just the old side and the new side. The new side, the Eastern half, was drawn out in the early 1990s, some 100 years later, and is separated from the Old Town by an avalanche zone—preserved open space for hiking in the summer, preserved open space for surviving in the winter. The town forbids short-term rentals, no one has a fence, dogs roam free, and all the houses have that cabin look to them. A boulder nests in a grove near a trailhead in the center of town with a plaque paying respect to the Utes who called this valley home. There’s no industry here. No businesses allowed. If you want a $7 latte, you can drive the 14 miles required to get it, assuming there’s not an avalanche blocking your path. You can, however, buy a pink lemonade in a

solo cup at the permanent lemonade stand run by the local feral child mafia. Crystals (rocks) can be purchased for an additional cost. We bought one, hoping to buy favor at the same time. The town plan has a few guiding principles, and it’s all in the name of preservation. We must preserve: 1 - the quiet atmosphere 2 - the rustic character 3 - the natural setting

And finally: 4 - protect the health and wellbeing of the people here No snowmobiles, no ATVs, no drones. In fact, the only sign of the outside world here are the passers-through. When you take the dirt road through town to the end, you enter National Forest, and you can hike over the pass saddle at nearly 12,000 feet before descending down the other side into Silverton. The pass road climbs rutted through an aspen forest before scaling across a scree field and then lurching over to the other side. Every day, it seems like 30 or so Texans and Arizonans in lifted and loud Jeeps with unused mods climb over this mountain in the comfort of their air conditioning, simply to drive down the other side. You could hike it, ride it, run it, and ski it, but they don’t. They rev their engines, kicking up dust in a town of feral children and roaming dogs, staring at us instead of waving. I’ve lived here for two months and look how salty I am. I’ll fit in yet. But today, there is a temperature that whispers of perfect trails and the dwindling of ogglers driving 35 in a 15. It’s already snowed in the mountains we see from our kitchen. Today, like a dedication to the Septembers of our youth, you can feel a chill in the air. A temperature akin to pencils and sweaters and reinventing yourself. A temperature that doesn’t exactly sing “screen porch” but could if you had the right slippers on. That’s what I did this morning: put my slippers on and sat there in the cool mountain morning air, thinking about the cemetery behind our house, about the Ute tribe, about the miners, about the mailman who died on Christmas in 1875 on the pass, about the 5 people who died in avalanches here just last year, about the people in their cars on their phones driving through, and all the people who’s very first question to us was, “so are you gonna live here part-time or full-time?” Maybe it will be a hard place to live. But at least we’ll have a screen porch.

Every week I'm writing about moving to log cabin in a small town at 10,000 feet. Subscribe here for free: tinyletter.com/keltonwrites

[witchesoz]

Oz Lore: The Wicked West (1)

There is a comic book series called "Legend of Oz: The Wicked West"

The first series was published in 2012 (the first volume being called "Over the Rainbow"). It is a clever and entertaining re-imagining of The Wizard of Oz in a Wild West setting.

Dorothy Gale (known only by "Gale" since she hates being called Dorothy, only her Aunt and Uncle called her that and hearing the name makes her miss them) was a young farmwoman/cowgirl who one day got swept away by a tornado into the magical land of Oz, a supernatural version of the Wild West-era America. Now, a lonesome cowgirl with for sole company her horse Toto, she has been following the Yellow Brick Road for three years now, in search of the Emerald City and its fabled Wizard...

The comic mixes elements from both the MGM movie and the original novels in a unique mix.

The East

We do not know much about the "Witch of the East" in this context, merely that she was killed when Dorothy's barn fell upon her after the tornado.

The "ruby slippers" are now here the "ruby trappings", aka the ruby spurs and pistols, two powerful magical set of items the Witch of the East wielded. Their exact powers are left unknown and Gale herself ignores the extent of their power - she only mentions that Glinda, the Witch of the South, gave them to her, and that people around Oz fear and respect the items. The ruby spurs can break chains with one kick, while the ruby pistols actually shoot ruby bullets, and does not need to be recharged - though they seem to act like regular bullets.

Later, at the end of the story, Dorothy actually learns the true powers and the true charm of the Ruby Pistols - they can open up doors and portals to any location and place existing in the world. You simply need to state either the name of a place, of a time era or of a loved one, and then shoot three times in front of you. It will open up a portal to said place/era/person. But beware, because the portal won't close like that, and things can follow you...

The land of the East, the territory of the Munchkins, is described by Gale as a "feast or famine" place, one minute you are in a place of farms and fields filled with people, but as soon as you set out you find yourself in a desert filled with canyons, before finding back towns and fields, and then again a desert.

There is the "forest of the Kalidahs" where the unfamous beasts live and that people rarely get out of - but there is one escape. At the end of the forest, there are huge statues of Kalidahs. Or so it seems - in truth they were kalidahs petrified a long time ago by a man named Pipt who used a "liquid of petrification". Ever since, the kalidahs fear going near this area of the wood (out of "superstition". Because here the animals do not talk, but they are nonetheless intelligents and emotional enough to understand humans or, in the case of the kalidahs, have superstitions).

The Yellow Brick Road is actually extremely hard to follow because the bricks were stolen by reckless and greedy people: they were bricks made of gold, pure gold. One of those groups of road-breakers are seen in the story - but as it turns out what seems like common bandits were actually winged monkeys. Indeed, recently the East has been more dangerous because winged monkeys sent by the Witch of the West have invaded the area, usually disguising themselves as cowboys, bandits or (in the case of females) as prostitutes. You can however pierce their human glamour by their glowing green eyes - the magic of the Witch of the West is green in color. [A small note, female homosexuality is apparently allowed in Oz since the prostitutes offer with no shame some "business" to Gale].

Interestingly, the Road was only destroyed in the most Eastern part of the East, where there's towns, salooons, farms and deserts. Past the forest of the Kalidahs, the Road is untouched and the vegetation lush and vibrant - but this area of the East is wild and filled with dangers and strange beings. Even if you survive the Kalidahs, you have to escape the sentient poppies and the warrior field mice.

The Munchkins are mentionned as the "little folk" who welcomed Gale upon her arrival in Oz and helped her. They gave her "Munchkin perfume" (whose exact purpose is unclear but that apparently is a strong perfume that fades away only after a very, VERY long time), and they are visibly reputed as makers of sugary goods: they used to hold candy stores (under the Lollipop Guild control), the Witch of the West mentions "Munchkin sweets" and the Tin Man (here a cold and aloof but good elder sheriff as talented with guns as he is with axes) says they make the best "sugar bread" of all Oz.

 The Emerald City

The Emerald City is the heart of Oz, and the end of the Yellow Brick Road (in fact at this point, the Road floats in the air, showing that magic is high around here).

Officially, the Emerald City does not exist anymore. It was abandonned by its inhabitants and fell into ruins. Are only left a huge green tree in the middle of the desert, with nearby a house/farm in which live Pipt with his daughter, Scraps (who looks like a regular human being, until you notice the stitches covering her and the numerous scars and patchworks of flesh). They claim they are the last inhabitants of the Emerald City - but in truth they are its guardians.

The Emerald City used to be a mining city, on top of emerald mines (hence the name) and it went underground - now a full underground city build in the grottos, caves and emerald mines. Pipt is supposed to guard the entrance to the upper world (the giant tree). The city underground is led by Jinjur, a young woman, but she is but the assistant and servant of the fabled Wizard of Oz, who appears to Gale and her group as a giant green and glowing head - but the head seems different depending on which side you are. In the front it is an old man's head ; on the right it is a monstrous black head ; on the left it is the head of a beautiful and solemn woman.

Note that in this first series the truth about the Wizard is not revealed - the first series ends when Gale vanquished the Witch of the West. Oh yes, because the mission the Wizard gives Gale is to kill the Witch, just like in the book.

 The West

The Witch of the West is of course the main antagonist of the series. Ruler of the West, land of the Winkies. Her appearance is heavily based on the one of the MGM movie. An old, withered, green-skinned crone, with a crooked chin and hooked nose, red claws, glowing red eyes and black hair. She wears all black - a black hat, a black cloak, and instead of a black dress rather black bandages wrapping her body. She is said to be one of the oldest witches around, if not THE oldest witch, being roughly two-hundred years old (though the Witch herself claims that she lived five times a human lifespan, and defeated death several times - Death personified as a "he" so it implies she literaly met and vanquished Death on several occasions).

Just like the Witch of the East, the Witch of the West has a weapon - a black rifle (though she can turn it in black pistols, which she does to fight Gale - but the ruby bullets and her own black bullets annihilate each other, because visibly the witches' weapons are of equal force). When it is under the shape of a black rifle, the Witch can shoot it in the air - one single black bullet can not just cross the entire land of Oz, going from the West to the East, but it also can turn into a gigantic swarm of black bees (yep, the deadly bees of the book? They are the Witch of the West bullets).

The Witch keeps other items with her - for exemple instead of a broom she rides a creepy horse who can walk through the sky (and the horse is actually a parody of the color-changing horse of the MGM movie, here still a rainbow/color-changing horse, but visibly made of fire and with glowing red eyes) ; and she has a crystal ball she uses to spy on Gale (but when activating it the ball glows green and emits fire). Just like in the movie, the Witch is also associated with fire - she has been show producing fireballs out of her clawed hands. The Flying Monkeys (who are actually gorillas with bat wings) obey her because she owns the Golden Cap, but they resent her and how little she thinks of them (when she throws magic attacks she doesn't care if her own troops are in the way - the Witch does not care how much or how mnay people are hurt as long as she gets what she wants).

The Witch of the West is obsessed with the Ruby Trappings. She believes that she owns them by "right" since they belonged to her "sister". She also mentions that she wants them to "free" Oz of the Wizard's rule and grip, which might seem to be a benevolent move and put her as a anti-hero... Except that at the very end she reveals that if she wants to free Oz of the Wizard, it is to take over Oz herself and become its absolute ruler. Not just that - but she also plans on conquering all the universe existing. You see, she claims to have been to several other worlds that she conquered, and she wants the Ruby Bullets to open up portals to even more worlds to conquer and add to her empire. (And yes our world is considered a separate world from the one of Oz). In fact it seems a good part of her powers come from her exploration of other realms - she says her fire comes from the "depths" of Oz" and she mentions having control over winds coming from "unseen worlds" (she threatens Gal to tare her apart with the four winds of Oz).

Of the West land in itself we do not see much. We only see the black castle of the Witch, which is located beyond the "Haunted Forest". At first it might seem like a regular forest, just filled with dark and dead trees... But if the Witch casts the appropriate spell, the entire forest becomes alive, each tree now a hateful monster trying to harm whoever stands near them.

 The other regions

We do not see much of the other lands, but we have a bit of Glinda, the Witch of the South.

She is said to have been the one to give Gale the ruby spurs and pistols, taken from the crushed body of the Witch of the East. She only appears in person near the end of the story, when Dorothy is imprisoned in the Witch of the West's castle.

While at first she seems to appear in flesh, surrounded by a blue aura and clouds of bubbles, in truth she merely appeared in Gale's dreams to guide her (though the Witch of the West notices bubbles in the castle, which makes her guess Glinda is acting up). In fact, upon discovering Glinda helped Gale escape, the Witch of the West makes an oath to make Glinda pay - visibly Glinda had never stood up directly to the power of the West, but by her helping Gale she declared war on the West.

Glinda appears in a white outfit, as blond woman - with her outfit and manners, she seems to have been fashioned after the "Southern Belle" archetype (given this Oz is a mythical United-States it makes sense that the South would be the Ante-bellum South). Gale has a strange relationship with her, because while at first she thought her a friend and helper, when Glinda revealed to her she knew all along of the ruby bullets' portals, Gale lost her trust in her. In a similar way, Glinda says she cannot help much Dorothy because her abilities are limited - but it is unclear if this is really the case or if she just withdraw her powers, the same way she did not say anything of the Ruby's powers. The fact that she clearly is a Southern Belle also puts in doubt her "goodness" given, you know, the dark side of the USA South.

Apparently, each Witch has a weapon, a gun, which is her most precious item and main source of power. The East had her ruby pistols, the West her black rifle, and Gale asks to see and know what is Glinda's weapon - but Glinda refuses to show or tell her. The only items she is seen holding are a white fan, and a magic wand with at the end a huge pearl (a nod to the pearl necklace of Glinda in the books).

[crusherthedoctor]

It goes without saying: the first level always matters. If it doesn’t leave a good impression, it would hardly motivate you to give the rest of the journey a chance, would it? Being in fanfic form aside, Beyond the Stars is no exception, and because of this, Gleaming Meadows was actually one of the longest zones to work out. Viridonia is meant to stand out from previous Sonic settings after all, and kicking things off with a poor man’s Green Hill wouldn’t cut it.

Since the first level in a Sonic game usually tends to be either a hilly area (Green Hill, Emerald Hill, Seaside Hill) or an urban area (City Escape, Westopolis, Windmill Isle to an extent), I decided a good way to set this zone apart would be to... combine the two! This was inspired very much by Neo Green Hill from Sonic Advance, since although that zone wasn’t a city, it did add some minor urban elements the further it went on, most notably the bridge at the end where you fight Eggman. So as tribute to a forever underrated installment, Gleaming Meadows does that too, but in a different way.

Creating Zone 1: Gleaming Meadows

1-1: Blossom Fields

What’s a good way to make your first level stand out from all the Green Hills? Give it more than green, obviously. While it’s important that the entire adventure is full of interesting locations, I really wanted the first level to sound as gorgeous as possible in order to leave a strong first impression for this new journey, so what better inspiration than tulip fields, particularly those of the Netherlands?

The added use of yellows, oranges, reds and pinks already help set it apart, but there’s also the fact that although there are some lakes and rivers here and there, it’s not particularly coastal.

This aesthetic not only serves to get things off to a good start, but it also sums up the running theme with Beyond the Stars in general. Namely, that although plenty of the basic level tropes will be familiar to us all, many of them will be handled in rather different ways, thus proving that as long as you can think outside the box, there’s plenty of life in them yet. Some examples are more extreme than others, but other times, even a simple change of colour, weather, or time of day can make all the difference.

I mentioned in Chapter 1 proper that the cliffs in Blossom Fields have unique markings that convey a vague, lore-hinting narrative. I couldn’t find a better image to explain how this would look, so I’ll have to resort to this shot from Paper Mario:

See the cliff behind them, with its starry patterns on the soil? That’s basically the gist, but with a more complex pattern.

Also mentioned was the addition of a tunnel near the end of the stage, which is one example of the Neo Green Hill-esque hillside with minor urban elements that I intended.

Don’t assume the inside is drab however. On the contrary, it comes with abstract graffiti in a style reminiscent of the Colinton Tunnel in Edinburgh:

Very Jet Set Radio, eh? In addition to simply being more interesting this way, I figured it fit Sonic perfectly.

But you might question what a tunnel inspired by Edinburgh is doing in a level inspired by the Netherlands. Well, this is another running gag with Viridonia. While not always the case, a lot of times there���ll be combined aspects of real world inspiration, as opposed to Unleashed and its clear cut Not-Greece, Not-New York, etc. This is not just me throwing things at the wall to see what sticks, there is in fact a purpose to it, as it’s one of the more subtle ways of showing how peculiar Viridonia can be compared to other places in Sonic history - partly due to the Ethereal Zone - with only the Little Planet truly competing with the island in that field.

And y’know, it gives it that extra bit of identity and variety, eh?

Now, with music choices to explain what sort of musical atmosphere I’d have in mind for each level, I’m gonna have to use basic links from now on, since I rediscovered the hard way that Tumblr only allows up to five or so direct posts. It’s also worth noting that if this were a real game, it would do what SA1 (and, uh, ‘06) did before it, with each level having at least two different bits of music for the appropriate sections to add even more flair. I’ll still be listing two examples each for extra comparison’s sake, so with that said...

First Section (the fields): Opening Demo (Sonic Mega Collection) Ending B (Sonic Advance 3)

Second Section (the tunnel): Topical Tropical (Sonic: Before the Sequel) Shooting Ristar

1-2: Swanky Suburbs

Continuing the Netherland theme going on, the local town has a touch of Giethoorn to it, with its calming rivers and little pathways. Though unlike Giethoorn, there would be some cars and short roads sprinkled about.

Again, really wanted to convey that feeling of low-key beauty and coziness, and provide more justification for why Sonic and Co would come here for a vacation. But that’s not all: when it comes to the houses and other buildings, the red and white colour scheme is more based on those of Portugal:

And of course, you have the local parks as well. You can even interact with the slides and swings if you want, because you’re never too old to make the kids wait their turn.

First Section (calm): Neo Green Hill Classic The Amazon (DuckTales Remastered)

Second Section (when Badniks start wrecking things up): Wave Ocean ~The Inlet~ (Sonic ‘06) Andy’s Neighborhood (Toy Story 2)

1-3: Yellow Hills

As we go on, we leave the Netherland influence behind, and with the countryside in sight, the clue is in the name. Lots of yellow to be had indeed.

And inbetween all these fields, we have some villages, of which the rural vibe suits the place just fine.

Then as we go into farmyard territory, the yellow actually starts taking a back seat in favor of red, because I guess even I’m not immune to the subverting expectations fever. Hopefully I’ve done it in a way that isn’t asinine though.

The barnyards would be the stereotypical red and white, since it works well enough with the autumn colours, and can still pop out despite there being so much red surrounding them.

And yes, there are many farm animals hanging around here.

Yes, that includes horses.

No, they’re not Trudy’s family.

First Section (yellow): Tornado Alley (Crash Bandicoot: The Wrath of Cortex) Mount Lineland (Super Paper Mario)

Second Section (red): Green Hill ‘12 (Tee Lopes) Menu (Mario Tennis)

1-4: Rusty Mill

A wooden mill doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination, so it would look pretty much exactly as you’d expect, albeit a tad more old and worn.

The same goes for inside, really. Since the interior of mills are tricky to find interesting images of when elaborating on your quirky Sonic the Hedgehog zone, I’ll be using another game for comparison instead, specifically Donkey Kong Country 3:

Except multiply the cobwebs by five.

It’s decayed, and a bit grim, but not enough to the point where it would feel like it’s near the endgame. Yet another thing I go in hard on in this story: escalation. In order for later zones and climactic moments to be more striking and impactful, you gotta start off by taking it easy. There’s still action to be had, and there’s still mysterious and/or ominous touches here and there, but it’s for the purpose of organically building things up, so that when things do escalate, you actually feel it when shit starts going down. Pacing, boys and girls! Learn it!

Then again, as with Angel Island in S3&K, this place gets set on fire halfway through, so maybe I need to remember my own lessons. But on the other hand, also like S3&K, it still pales in comparison to what happens later, so...

Lastly for today, when you’re fighting the fearsome Paindozer, the section of the mill that you confront it in suspiciously takes a form more akin to a old fashioned warehouse. Like... IKEA, I guess. But on fire.

So congratulations, you got through IKEA Zone. Looks like Eggman should have stuck with B&Q Zone instead.

First Section (calm): Pogo Painter (Crash Bash) The Walk of Life (Rayman 2)

Second Section (on fire): Vs. Rotatatron & Refreshinator (Sonic Colours) Set Point - Match Point (Mario Tennis)

[wearesorcerer]

[5e] 7th-Level Spells

or “You’re Taking Teleport, Right?”

7th-level spells are like higher level ones in that you only learn one of them (unless you give up better magic) and can’t use it terribly often. Unlike 8th- or 9th-level spells, though, you aren’t outright godlike for using these: they're the sorts of things the most accomplished caster of a generation should be able to, but they are still fundamentally within the realm of fantastical human capability.

So, why teleport? Why are you worrying about this spell above all others?

Teleportation is, by definition, the most effective means of transportation. It ignores all problems specific to transportation except something (or someone) else being right where you want to be. Almost all drawbacks are theoretical -- indeed, they vary from one type of teleportation effect to another, even within works. In D&D, it negates most obstacles in, to, and from a dungeon, making it the bane of many a DM’s existence.

Teleport happens to be the best teleportation spell within D&D.

In fact, most other teleportation spells exist to reduce dependency on teleport. For instance, TSR created plane shift some time after the Expert set (1981); before it existed, teleport could go across planes. Dimension door is the oldest example of a lower-level teleportation spell for the tactical movement aspect -- obviously a major point of appeal. Really, the only teleportation spell that isn’t strictly “teleport, but...” is gate.

Teleport is so handy that after 3rd edition, they bumped normal teleport from 5th-level (as it had been since OD&D) to 7th-level, at the expense of greater teleport (3.5)/teleport without error (2e and 3.0) entirely. Some of this has to do with D&D not being great with sympathetic magic; some of it is how video games deal with teleporting; most of it is 4e. Still, it’s not for nothing that it was this one spell that required so much reworking.

The question is not “What spell should I take?” but “Is this worth giving up teleport for?”

The Main List

conjure hezrou · crown of stars · delayed blast fireball · etherealness · finger of death · fire storm · plane shift · power word pain · prismatic spray · reverse gravity · whirlwind

This level’s list pretty much demonstrates the main parts of the Sorcerer list in general: boom-boom (five dedicated spells), crowd control (four spells), some utility (three), and the occasional other (two summons).

Conjure Hezrou: you summon...a stinky frog demon with a thing for necrophagy; it will gleefully serve as a tank, but can’t do much else, and will turn on you. Did you read my rant? Pass. With extreme prejudice. #killitwithfireball

Crown of Stars: pretty much sunbeam combined with light, but the flavor is dancing lights. Functionally, it has two advantages over sunbeam: it has a longer duration that it doesn’t require concentration (both as light). However, it doesn’t provide true sunlight or affect as many targets. This should be a 4th-level spell at the highest. (I bet I’m going to have to defend that later...)

Delayed Blast Fireball: I’m not really certain what the point of this spell is anymore. I only reference it as much as I do because it works with queuing and casters = fireball users. The main point of DBF was in conjunction with time stop, but since it’s concentration that doesn’t really fly. Otherwise...hooray, a time bomb? I’d rather have this as a metamagic effect.

Etherealness: or intangibility. You probably won’t need it as long as the spell provides, but even there plane shift can outdo this spell. That said, it doesn’t cost you anything in materials and you won’t arrive in a semi-random location. I mean, it’s by no means bad...

Finger of Death: deal lots of necrotic damage, zomble target. This is niftier than the 3.5 version (which was just a save or die effect), but there was a metamagic feat (Fell Animate) that applied to any damaging spell. Ask your DM to convert the metamagic feat for you.

Fire Storm: one of the few spells on this list that is primarily a Druidic spell (you can tell by the bit about it ignoring vegetation). The sculpting aspect of this spell is nice and it’s slightly bigger and more damaging than wall of fire without requiring concentration. This + elemental spell = conscientious blasting. For a boom-boom, not bad.

Plane Shift: the other half of teleport, which is a bit sad given that this is now the level at which you get teleport. Unfortunately, it has a costly material component to it and isn’t a ritual. Depending on the game, this could be as important as teleport or entirely irrelevant.

Power Word Pain: (CRUCIO! -.-) you torture someone and get... minor results? I swear, if you want to be this evil, there are lower-level spells that would let you do it better.

Prismatic Spray: RANDOM! The CC effects are cool, but toned done from 3.5 (in which they’d take effect immediately, rather than over several turns). The rest depends: 10d6 is nice damage, but if you roll the wrong type then you’re just out of luck (and Elemental Metamagic won’t help you much, either). Since charging is now a feat, the range on the cone isn’t bad, but I’d much rather have a burst. I want to like it, but...

Reverse Gravity: this is funnest spell on this list and one of the more fun 7th-level spells period, yet it’s only so-so. It’s mainly there to throw creatures skyward. Wouldn’t it be great if you could just alter gravity in areas and make the game Super Mario Galaxy?

Whirlwind: other than crown of stars, this is my personal favorite for this list -- and it doesn’t come with caveats. You simply create a miniature tornado and destroy people’s lives. HOORAY NATURAL DISASTERS!

If you’re not taking teleport, you might be considering etherealness or plane shift. If you’re not, you’ve got some pretty good options and some...not so good ones. Y’know, like always.

Just remember about conjure hezrou: dishonor!

You got that? Good.

Moving on.

Cleric (Divine Soul) List

conjure celestial · divine word · regenerate · resurrection · symbol · temple of the gods

Conjure Celestial: you summon a celestial of CR 4 or lower (5 if you spend a 9th-level spell slot). CR 4- celestials include the couatl (flying shapeshifter healer) and several winged animals (bull, lion, horse [pegasus]) to serve as combat mounts. (Did you know that Pegasi prior to 5e also had spells to detect alignment? Yep. More than just a mount.) Upping the spell to 9th gets you a battleforce angel (flying paladin), a felidar (sometimes winged cat-thing with truesight to which you could bond if the spell’s duration didn’t prevent that), hollyphant (ridiculous elephant celestial thing), or a unicorn. For the sake of comparison, a unicorn in 3.5 is CR 3 and a 4th-level summoning spell could call one. (Summoning is much weaker in 5e, but lasts a lot longer.) I’m not sure what to say. I mean, the couatl and the unicorn would be nice if you needed healing, but you can probably do that yourself.

Divine Word: creatures of your choice within 30 ft. that can hear you must save (Cha) versus various effects based on HP. This is overall better than the equivalents in 3.5 (which were alignment pole based) and it’s an “I win” button against extraplanar creatures (except aberrations) that fail their saves, which could stop a cult in its tracks. Pretty powerful.

Regenerate: target creature is now a troll/starfish! Woot woot! It’s kinda sad that you have to wait this long for it and that it competes with your second best rez, but you can replace that rez with this once you get true rez (which of course you will). This should be mandatory in a game that uses slashing weapons so much.

Resurrection: holding out for true resurrection is not really a great idea. On the one hand, you don’t want to have to ask someone else for this spell -- and chances are there will come a time when you need it. You can replace this spell with true rez later. On the other, there are so many other things you might want. Need I say more?

Symbol: you spend a buttload of money to make magic traps. Why are these Cleric spells? Dunno. Why are they spells and not magic items you craft? Also dunno. They’re useful, but not so much that I’d want them as anything besides rituals (which they aren’t). -2 Sorcerousness.

Temple of the Gods: holy shit, this is neat. If you need to seal yourself and your party away from the world while still being able to access the world, you want this spell. Like, take Mordenkainen’s magnificent mansion and make it more convenient. Great spell.

S’yeah, lots of lovely spells that you now have to decide upon vs. teleport. I do not envy you in making this decision.

[sockablock]

for the prompt thing - keyleth meeting the m9? since shes gonna live a long time and stuff

oh…oho…ohohohoho…….( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

—

“Just…just act natural, alright? We don’t really know her…well, at all, and we are here to take her stuff.”

“Her staff,” Caduceus corrected. “You only need her staff.”

“Exactly!” Beau reached up and clapped Fjord on the back. “And isn’t she retired, anyway? I don’t see why you’re so worried.”

“Plus, I’ve heard they call her a princess!” Jester pressed herself against Beau’s arm. “She can’t be evil if she’s a princess.”

Fjord scratched the base of his neck, looking nervously up the winding path before them. Low-hanging boughs of gnarled cliffside trees framed the silent, gravelly road. Above them, the heavy sun bored into their skin, but the blustering winds of the Summit Peaks Range buffeted their cart at every turn, and sent chills running down Fjord’s already-nervous spine.

“I feel like I should emphasize that ‘retired’ is not the same as harmless,” he muttered. “And I don’t think the Wildmother would have sent me here if it was an easy task.”

“Yeah, but maybe she’s doing it because it’s simple,” Nott called from the back of their wagon. “Maybe she’s starting your Paladin-stuff slow. You know, ‘cause you’re so weak and all.”

Fjord shot her a glare over his shoulder, met with a rather crude and wet raspberry. It echoed around the greying stone.

“Now, now,” Caleb said, “be civil. This is Fjord’s special day.”

“That’s right,” Caduceus nodded pleasantly, “and we don’t want you to fail. Especially not with that other god at your heels.”

Fjord grimaced immediately.

“Ah, yes.”

“Do­-on’t worry!” Jester interjected. “I’m sure if the Wildmother abandons you, the Traveler would be more than happy to take you on! You’d look great in pink, too, if you would just give it a shot.”

“Pink?” Nott frowned. “What does pink have to do with it?”

Jester crossed her arms with self-importance. “I’m the Traveler’s high priestess, right? That means if Fjord joins in his worship—which he should, ‘cause the Traveler is super cool—that would make him my disciple, too. And then he’d have to do what I say!”

“And…that means you would make him wear pink?” Caleb turned a page in his book. “That is a trial indeed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with pink,” Caduceus rumbled. “I think it’s a lovely color—”

Fjord turned around and put his hands over his head. Beau sidled up to him with an awkward pat.

“There, uh…there-there?” she tried, smacking him roughly on the shoulder. “Did…did that make you feel any better?”

He leaned over the side of the cart.

“I retract everything that I’ve said,” he grumbled. “This can’t be worth my life. Uk’otoa, wherever you are, just come and end it n—”

He paused. He squinted at the dirt.

It was faint, barely there, but it seemed like the earth was…vibrating?

“Hey, you guys,” he began to sit back up, “do you feel something o—”

And then, the world exploded.

Or, more accurately, the ground exploded. A blast of rubble and rock shook the air, sent their horses scattering, cart flipping to one side, the Nein were thrust from the wagon and collided with the narrow, sheer path, barely-stable as a tremor rocked them to their core, and then the dust around them blew stronger, and stronger, spun into a tornado, ripping at their clothes and tearing at their hair, causing their very skin to almost peel, and then, when they could bear it no longer, suddenly at the edge of their vision, from around the storming mountainside, a figure, a woman, emerged in the air, flying towards them with a staff in her hands, eyes hardened and piercing green, flaming red hair blowing around her in the gale, coming to a stop just above their cart, raising a fist with the wrath of a god—

And then she paused.

Her arms fell to her sides.

And then, to all of their astonishment, she gasped.

“Oh my—oh, shoot, you aren’t bandits!” Her feet landed on the ground and she rushed over to calm their horses. “Gods, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that, I thought you were troublemakers and bad guys! You see, we’ve been having some issues with ruffians, so when I sensed someone coming, I thought it was them and I just figured I’d come up and scare them…er…”

She trailed off at all their slack-jawed faces. She nervously scratched her head.

“I, um…I’m Keyleth,” she said. “Keyleth of the Air Ashari. This is…oh boy, this is awkward. But what, um…what are your names? And…well, actually, why are you here?”

The gang, still in shock, slowly turned to Fjord.

For a second, all he could do was stare.

It was…this was her, he knew it, knew it with every pulse of his soul. This was the woman he’d been sent to find. The wielder of Her breath, the Voice of the Tempest—

And with all the terror of someone who’d almost just died thrice now, very carefully….

He raised a hand.

He pointed at the object in her grasp.

“That…that’s why we’re here. Guys, that’s the…that’s the artifact from my dreams. The vestige. The Spire of Conflux.”

Keyleth blinked and glanced at her staff.

“Wait…you mean this?” she frowned. “No, hang on, you…no, you can’t just have thi—”

Fjord quickly scrambled to his feet.

He took a deep breath.

“I know. And I’m sorry. But…Miss Keyleth, the Wildmother needs it back.”

—

From 8/11-8/15, I’m holding a grand fic giveaway! Check out the guidelines right here and feel free to send in a prompt 💜

[tcm]

Bette Davis and Dark Victory (’39) by Theresa Brown

I was working at my computer one Saturday night a while ago when a friend texted me:

“Prognosis Negative. 8:00pm.”

I stopped what I was doing, shut everything down, turned my TV to TCM and settled into DARK VICTORY (’39). I had a good time with a sad movie about a girl who dies.

The girl? She’s been an old maid, a spinster, a waitress, an alcoholic, a secretary, a tramp, a fashion editor, a murderer, a schoolteacher, a nanny, a mother, a daughter, a half-crazed sister. She’s all those and more. She is Margo Channing. She is fearless. She is The Queen. She is TCM’s Star of the Month: the incomparable Bette Davis. Loving classic films as we do might put us in a niche audience, but anyone over 30 who has ever seen a motion picture at least knows the name Bette Davis. She’s undoubtedly the most famous female in classic films that the general population of today knows. Now if you haven’t seen this film, be forewarned, this review contains SPOILERS. If you do know it, there’ll be no surprises. Come. Walk with me through this movie.

Bette Davis plays socialite Judith Traherne, who goes through denial, grief and then acceptance of the fact she is dying. The movie shows each phase of her experience not in a jagged, disjointed, paint-by-number way, but seamlessly flowing from one situation to the next. We all have to face the inevitable. Me, I refuse to go. Nope, I ain’t goin'! But if I must, this movie might help get me through it. Max Steiner waves his baton over the music score. And director Edmund Goulding keeps it all together...even if by the end, we’re a sobbing mess.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? ~

To start. Judith’s hand-eye coordination has gotten so bad that she’s forced to see a doctor. She puts up a false bravado at Dr. Steele’s office. She rants and rails, but the Doctor (played by dependable George Brent) stays steady, focused and not scared off by this human tornado. He sees through all that and calls her out. The camera frames Davis in profile as she slowly bows her head in acknowledgement of each symptom. She’s broken. She can no longer deny it. Judith finally admits to needing help. Goulding shoots this scene well. Judith is vulnerable and Dr. Steele, commanding.

A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED ~

Hollywood newcomer Geraldine Fitzgerald plays Ann, Judith’s best friend/business manager. (You can hear the hint of the brogue still in her. Fitzgerald’s previous film was WUTHERING HEIGHTS, ‘39). Ann has the tough job; she watches over Judith. She is the Keeper of Secrets. Her eyes don’t leave the doctor for a moment when he tries to examine Judith. She...watches...him. Later, when Ann finds out Judith is not going to make it, Fitzgerald plays the scene in a way that amazed me: her gasp, the air sucked out of her, the tremor in her hands are all subtly done. I’ve replayed that moment a couple of times because Fitzgerald seemed true, genuine and pitch perfect in that moment. Ann had to go through all the emotions Judith will be going through, but she had to go through them all now...this instant. The genius of the film is rather Hitchcockian: we, the audience, are given more information than Judith. And now we are made to watch over Judith too. We hold our collective breath.

I also like how there is just the faintest whiff of jealous rivalry when Judith thinks Ann wants the doctor for herself. On a (very) personal note, what makes me chuckle is watching how the studio tries to tamp down Geraldine Fitzgerald’s looks. What a beautiful girl she was with that deep red hair; I swear you could see it through the black-and-white. I chuckle when I see how they have Fitzgerald in "sensible" shoes or a frock with long sleeves—buttoned up to her collar and down to her hem as if she were a monk—while Bette is in frilly femme-y girly clothes. Fitzgerald’s beauty shines through even if Bette is the Star. Fitzgerald is a good supporting actress. She supports Davis marvelously throughout this entire movie.

PROGNOSIS NEGATIVE ~

To be honest, this is the moment we wait for. It’s a great set-piece. Steiner sets us up on tenterhooks with his music of discovery and realization. Judith sees her file on the doctor’s desk and questions nurse Wainwright (one of my favorite character actresses...Dorothy Peterson) about it. She finds out the truth about her condition. And again, we’re given information some of the film’s characters don't have. Judith knows. And she’s gunning for Ann and the good doctor.

I'M GOING ON A BENDER...JUST TRY AND STOP ME ~

That scene in the restaurant is classic; Judith is a cat toying with two messes before she strikes the fatal blow. Ann and the doctor have no clue WHAT she’s talking about. (Huh? Wha'? Nice try.) Judith feels betrayed, tears 'em both a new one, storms into the night to drink and party and run...run...run away from all this.

The point/counterpoint of the scene, with Judith and her frivolous ritzy crowd with not a serious thought in their rich pointy heads, is good. "Oh give me time," the song goes. Davis uses those great ‘Bette Davis-eyes’ to good effect here. She can’t run. She can’t hide. She knows she is dying. Her eyes go dead. She cares about nothing.

PLEASE, MAKE ME FORGET ~

I’ve heard bones of contention made because Humphrey Bogart plays an Irishman in this, brogue and all. Is he convincing? I dunno. He and Davis appeared in a few Warner Bros. films by the time this film rolled around. (If you get a chance, watch MARKED WOMAN, ‘37.) Michael, the Bogart Irish horse trainer, makes his move on Judith. He’s always liked her, respected her. He’s not afraid of her like those other vanilla milk sops who buzz around her. She encourages his advances, but she comes to realize making out with the lower-class stable hand will not change things or stave off the inevitable. But it was an option she was willing to try. You’ll be the judge if they had chemistry or not or if Bogie is a convincing Irishman.

I’M HAPPY AND CONTENT ~

I love the scenes in Vermont with Judith and her doctor. The betrayal and recriminations are all in the past. They’re married. Judith stops running and lets love wash over her. Here’s another side to Bette. She’s all friendly and warm and giving. She’s sweet and young. She and Brent made several movies together and definitely have good chemistry. As the doctor who falls in love with his patient, he’s totally committed to her. He’s making her happy. And I’m happy Judith is happy. She’s a new woman.

KIBBITZING WITH OLD FRIENDS ~

This is a nice scene of old friends getting together. It’s Judith, Ann and Michael - the horse trainer. I liked Bogie better in THIS scene. Doesn’t he look good with the fedora and trench coat? (He’s going to wear more of this in the coming decade...and with Lauren Bacall waiting in the wings in the mid-40’s). Judith’s got her best buddy up in Vermont for a visit. She’s surrounded by people who care for her. This is a nice moment shot outside.

...BE MY FRIEND ~

What we’re told would happen, is now happening. And both women know it. It’s time. Ann takes it baaadly. Judith still has "noble" work to do to get everyone squared away. Ann holds one more secret and is made to promise not to tell the doctor. GULP! It’s a sad touching scene in the garden...their last together. When Judith sends her away telling Ann she must do this alone, it’s really tough. Nothing maudlin or mawkish. There’s a strength in it. I’m sad watching Ann run down the road, passing laughing children, running to deal with her grief alone. Losing her friend.

I LOVE YOU ~

Here is the moment where Judith totally thinks of others. Steiner doesn’t lay it on thick with harps and violins. His score is understated as it accompanies Judith’s goodbye to her husband. She’s sending him off to a medical conference in New York. She won’t be here when he returns. She puts on that false bravado once again, but this time it’s for him; to give him strength in his future without her. This a very touching scene. When he picks her off the stair-step, has her in his arms and they look out the window together, we know she’s almost totally blind.

Once again, we know more than the character in the movie. For me, this saying goodbye is reminiscent of BRIEF ENCOUNTER (‘45) or THE FALLEN IDOL (’48) where your last goodbye is spoiled by something outside yourselves.

DARK VICTORY is one of the triumphs of Bette Davis’ legendary career. We see different sides of her throughout the film. Yes, we all must face our end alone. We can only hope to leave those left behind in a better place. Stay tuned for Bette Davis every Tuesday this November on TCM. She does a fantastic job showing us her journey.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Candy 12-14

Even Jake’s having his proverbial love triangle troubles

It’s clear he genuinely cares for both Jane and Dirk, but if he’s being honest with himself, the one he romantically loves would be Dirk, the one he would prefer to be with, who he’d choose if they were equal options, would be Dirk

But he’s also right that it’s not like Jane’s a bad choice either, sure it’s not his preference if he’s being honest, but he’s also not about to look the gift horse in the mouth if it falls right into his lap

13 is where we start start to see the unraveling happen I suppose though

Again, everyone is acting so drugged up in Candy

Jane and Jake getting literally inebriated and Dave acting like he’s going through Dirk withdrawal

Then Gamzee being the weird ugly poster child of both drugs and candy, honestly it really did make sense to shove him into this timeline in a weird and uncomfortable ham fisted way, it gets that “are you fucking high right now” feeling across really well

Gamzee really being the cloud cuckoolander here though

hold on let me un-gamzee-ify it just reading his text quirk makes me feel like im on drugs

Gamzee: you don’t got any need to go and concern yourself with his mortal flesh body out here in this candycane whirlpool beyond the infinite black wink of the wicked singularity, my ninja.

Gamzee: a sack of meat and bones in one life or the next is only a means to the final totality that will damn and raise us all in brilliant apotheosis.

Gamzee seems clearly meta aware of the situation he’s in which is interesting, This is indeed a candy swirled timeline hidden inside an infinite black hole singularity

the second line seems to be describing the meat timeline in a way though too

a sack of meat sounds worthless, but it is apparently only a means to a truer end, it has to happen for something else to happen

Essential, but irrelevant, again

funnily enough he’s also seems to be referencing gnostic concepts, not that i’m surprised really at this point

one sack of meat, or, one body in one life or the next

so reincarnation

is only a means to an end that both damns and raises a person into apotheosis, or their “zenith” their highest point

which, i mean, yeah, you live life again and again, differently each time, becoming closer to ascension, and ultimate consumation of every version of you is the basic tenet of the reincarnation gnosticisms

Also, a lot of text was put into describing Gamzee haphazardly crashing into things and setting off rube goldberg machines, which I guess sort of describes his escapades through Homestuck lol

“cinder block, crusty puppet, and Japanese sword in a tornado’s radius off balance and avalanching them catastrophically onto the hapless clown’s torso. “

So the Sword is Dirk (or AR) the crusty puppet is Caliborn (because Lil Cal) which I guess leaves the cinder block as Equius? He’s built like a brick shithouse? eh only problem sleuth stuff comes up so 2/3 ain’t bad

Speaking of Equius, oh look, A feminine half finished robot in Dirk’s basement

the uncomfortable Equius vibes ping once again though I don’t think this is robo-Aradia, but likely something meant to serve a similar purpose and almost DEFINITELY Rose related if reading meat wasn’t already obvious and if the skull for an inner head thing wasn’t immediately referring to the headaches Rose was known to have

though it’s also uncomfortably a symbol of her Doom

---14---

“A flip of the cosmic coin has rendered your entire life completely inessential.”

yup what did I just say, Meat is representing the essential bits of the story, candy is decidedly, not

hm, Dirk’s going to kill himself for the supposed greater good of his own making again

not unsurprising, but a guy like him always like to make an escape rather than give up, is he thinking death will unlock this part of his conciousness and send the memories back to the ultimate self? probably

“and one final act of relevance that can bequeath your meager energies to the cosmic well from whence they came.”

yup!

Though as much as he keeps saying none of this matters he did leave an explanatory note specifically for his friends to find, so there’s still something in him that cares

Don’t like how the bigger blacker text is basically instructing this version of Dirk to kill himself though, that again implies there’s part of Dirk that are subservient to other parts, so again it’s a question of if his ultimate self got tainted through the connecting pieces of Arquisprite > Lord English > Doc Scratch, then who’s actually pulling the strings in Dirk’s Ultimate Self and directing the behaviour of “Dirk” in general

Is it Dirk Strider? Or Doc Scratch? and does that even matter anymore since it’s all DS all the same anyway?

“In a certain sense, you’ve never felt so free.

> Kill yourself.”

That’s hilariously also a JailBreak reference, I think, but definitely played for the morbs instead of as a joke lol

https://www.homestuck.com/jailbreak/109

Literally this MC kills himself when his friend dies and he’s now alone in a vast cosmic emptiness and the text is:

“Yes! Finally! Free at last!

Though the victory is bitersweet. Your friend has died of blood loss.

This is no victory. The feeling is vast emptiness. You are no longer bound by bars or concrete, but you feel more incarcerated than ever. You come to the heartwrenching conclusion that the only true prison... is loneliness.

There is only one thing left to do.

> Continue”

and it just resets him back to the first panel but this time he makes choices differently

ironic that Dirk does literal the exact same thing but comes to exactly zero of the same conclusions

“Just as your epiphany occured at sunset, your death must occur at sunrise to complete the ouroboros of symbological harmonic resonance that is your personal arc. It is the very last moment of narratively consequential action that will happen in this whole, barren world.”

I wonder what about this death makes it so narratively significant? just because it passes along the knowledge of what not to do back to the Ultimate Self so he can avoid it? Probably nothing more than that

“but there really are no words that can adequately express the sound someone makes when they die. It’s a phenomenon that happens on two levels. First, there is the literal termination of organic processes, which is to say, the destruction of the meat. Then follows the dissolution of the ego. And you have quite the ego to dissolve, one that has flown so high above the forest that not only can it no longer see the trees, it cannot even conceive of the trees as material substance with objective meaning.”

funny it mentions a forest which is also where that happened in JailBreak

Basically describes how death in general works in Homestuck, the body dies but can leave a ghost/ego behind, but eventually that dissolves as well

Again though, making a compariosn between the Meat and the Body/Flesh and the Candy and the Spirit or Ghost

or another pun between Candy and Drugs if you take Spirit to mean alcoholic spirits

Candy seems ironically and symbolically the place where Breath Meets Void, no wonder John and Roxy hook up here lol

Does that make Meat then the place where Blood and Light meet? I have before put significance into the crossover of those symbolisms in Homestuck before, but couldn’t really conceptulize it as a solid symbolic thing and the Meat and epilogues in general did a really good job of conjoining them into the idea of the story what with the Narrative having importance but also Veins and the idea of Karkat as being reliable narrator etc etc

Meat’s as good a symbol as any for that I suppose

“ When you think so little of yourself as a moral character, any act of self-termination will result in a death that is Just. “

so this line seems to imply that Dirk’s death was permanent and Just here because he thought so little of his own moral character aka deep down he knew he was terrible person, amount of remorse felt over that not applicable, and because of that perception of his, the clock tick tocked over on to Just

Again reinforcing that the Clock is less of an ultimate moral judgment from down on high and much more like an influenceable moral compass, given form by the person affecting it at the moment

I actually kinda like the new spin on that it gives Vriska’s original just death, since that slow ticking of the clock was not just a decision, but a battle of wills between herself and Terezi, it could have easily gone either way depending on how each saw Vriska

neat!

[rcris123]

The buck fathers

“Chloe, look out!”

Too late, the car swerves out of the road, into the ditch. There’re no airbags in this thing so both of them end up slamming with their entire bodies into the board. Head bumps against the windscreen.

 “Ow...” That’s one hell of a headache if she’s ever had one. “Ow, ow ow ow...” Chloe tries to pull back slowly. “Max?...” Panic. “Max!”

She rushes over to shake her friend awake, but to no real avail. She seems to be breathing though. Shit, shit, shit-

The other car stopped as well. Two men came out, running towards them. One’s got a stupid cowboy hat.

“You okay there?” The cowboy dude bend through the window, then grimaced when seeing Max like she was. “Shit... Buck, call 911!”

“On it already.”

“Can you get out, miss?” The man said, extending a hand.

“I... Think so.” Chloe tried to pull herself out of where she got crashed to.

“They’re on their way here!” the other, ‘Buck’, beckoned, somewhere between her car and their own, just putting his phone back in his pocket.

With just a little help, a bit of a struggle, heart running a minute a mile, Chloe got out of the wreckage and that’s when realization sunk in, faster than the ache in her ankle and knee:

“Shit... Shit shit! Fuck! Fuck no...” She hit a stone with her foot, pursing her lips and rolling her fists when the bristle pain shot up through the leg. And let’s not even mention feeling like she’ll fall over ‘cause her head was as big as a bowling ball and twice as heavy, hurting like it just came out of the goddamn track after hitting all the pins.

That was all she got left of Arcadia. That car and Max.

The car’s ruined...

The cowboy, a massive dude with a real thick southern - or maybe it was midwestern – accent, came nearer, hands raised as if trying to pet her. She’s no animal.

“Miss?...”

But she doesn’t pull away when the man tries to put one of those hands on her shoulder. She could use the comfort, well at least that’s what she thinks...

“Just call me Chloe...”

“I’m Arthur. Arthur Castellanos. You a’right there? Bumped ye’r head or somethin?”

“...I’ll live-”

The somewhat silence that settled in after the crash got busted by the cries of a small child.

“Daddy?” A girl, maybe 10 or 12 pokes her head out of the van the two strangers got out of. “Isaac’s...”

“Want me to check up on him?” Arthur shouts over to ‘Buck’. Guess they were partners and that was one weird fucking petname.

“No, no, I got this.” The brunet heads back into the car. There’s some mumbling, then the man gets out of the car with the baby.

She can’t help it; she doesn’t have the nerves not to talk about something: “So... urhm, that your kid?”

“Yea-”

A muffled sound from the car, movement: “Chloe-”

Sprained ankle and all Chloe jumps towards the car, towards her one and only thing in this world. “Max!” Mister Cowboy Arthur follows, arms raised as if trying to stop them from doing something.

“Now you take it easy, miss. There’s an ambulance on the way here.” He talks, but between them, and Max still tries to stand up. A sigh: “Can you get out?”

“Yeah.” Why was her voice so weak, drained. It reminded her of that crazy week back- well she can’t call it a home now. Poof! One tornado and it vanished.

“Lemme help ya’ out.” Arthur huffs, arms like tree branches stretching inside to get Max out. And there she was.

“Max!” She’s not even fresh out of the wreckage when Chloe presses her within her arms: “Max, oh, Mad Max.” She was scared.

“Chloe... I’m fine...”

“We’re sill gettin’ the two of you checked by that ambulance.” Arthur said; now that was a dad tone if she ever heard one. Kinda familiar in a way.

“Thank you, Arthur, thank you.” Chloe said, and soon enough both of them get seated in the shade of a tree by the side of the road. It was one of those bright, hot summer days when, if you put as much as a pinky into sunlight, you’ll get burns.

The baby’s still crying and Arthur’s gone to check up on it. She’s guessing it’s the heat and the fact that they stopped for so long so suddenly. She’s feeling sorry. She almost ran them over, and then crashed Max into a ditch. Her head falls in her palms. Really sorry. She can’t even do driving right. Fingers claw at the scalp.

Baby switches dads, and she can still hear them talking.

“We should be calling their parents.” ‘Buck’ said.

“Shouldn’t we let ‘em call ‘em themselves?”

“Maybe we should wait for the ambulance before that.”

“I guess... Did it say how long till it’s gonna get here?”

“No...”

Baby seems to have calmed down under the gentle rubs of those big ass hands: “Is Lily a’right?”

And as on cue, girl pokes her head out, springs out of the car and clings to the ‘Buck’ dad; man bends down and picks her up: “It’s okay, Lily.”

“They okay, Daddy?”

“Guess so. Maybe we should give them some water. Wanna come with me?”

And Chloe dares a look at Max, slumped against the tree, staring back at her:

“Are we okay, Max?”

“Can’t say we haven’t been through worse-” slight smile; Maxine’s gotten her lips busted.

Red lights. The ambulance.

“C’mon up, Mad Max!” Chloe shouldn’t be jumping up like she did, but there she was to assist her girlfriend.

“What happened?” the paramedic asked.

“Misses got in an accident.” Arthur replied.

“And you were witness?”

“Yeah. They were goin’ fast and swerved into the side of the road trying to avoid us. We were comin’ from the opposite direction.”

“They’re conscious so we’re going to ask them a few questions- Miss?”

“Caulfield. Maxine.” Damn, she admired her courage.

They were asked to walk for a bit, had their blood pressure and heart-rate taken and all the other crap, allergies and the like. Then they were asked to phone their relatives. Max... Where would she be without her- Well obviously in a grave.

But what if that was better...

Now they had to tell those paramedics that she was an orphan. Well Max did, and she was also obligated to call her parents; told them they’ll be reaching Seattle tomorrow. She did all the legwork. Well... Max had the plan. Chloe just sort of tagged along to it all. It’s been about a week since it all happened. They tried calling Mom, Joyce, for a few days. At first there seemed to be some hope that she might pick up. No... The phone battery died about 3 days into their journey.

She cried that night, in the car. They had to stop. She cried all night. Didn’t even remember when she fell asleep. Max even tried to convince her to drive herself that day. Not happening.

They were heading to Seattle; hoping Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield will kindly take her in. Well... not with all those kisses and the possibility of a naughty one- Did she just think that... Yeah, regardless, it didn’t sound like it was gonna happen.

But Chloe got nothing left and this was probably her best chance at anything ever.

She fucked it all up this time around. If... if only Max chose-

 The paramedics let them go, blood wiped away and a cold compress applied to Chloe’s ankle. In the meantime tho’, the guys heard all they said, and Max told them about Arcadia, ‘cause she thought they surely heard on the news about the tornado. They did...

“You can spend the night at our place, and we’ll drive you tomorrow into Seattle. We stay in Olympia City.” The brunet said; Arthur was seating the baby back inside the car.

Did they have a choice?

“I mean sure...” Chloe said, and with that they hopped in the car. The girl got in Arthur lap.

“Oh. This is Lily. And that’s Isaac back there.” Kid fell asleep, chubby cheeks smooshed against the side of the baby chair. “I’m Sebastian. And Arthur. My husband.”

“Hello~” Arthur greeted, with a silly, long, drawn out o at the end. Sebastian smiled at that. And well Chloe had to as well; there’s something about seeing married gays that kinda gave her hope...

“So we ain’t going to the Nes Percy Park today?” the little girl, Lily, said. She meant the Nez-Perce National Park, right? Jesus they were on vacation and Chloe’s ruined it for them.

“We’re gonna go tomorrow after we leave the ladies back in Seattle.”

“Yes!”

“Ah, Chloe, right?” Arthur called back. “What’s your friend called.”

“Maxine, but you can call me Max. Caulfield.”

“Chloe Price.” She added; now she didn’t think saying her surname will leave her feeling bitter...

 The ride back to Olympia city was one surprise after another. Firstly, the dudes were unironically listening to Kesha and Lady Gaga like it was the best thing ever. The Johnny Cash and other country music she can’t place. But there was that one guitar solo that her dad used to listen to. They sang to it. And maybe for the first time in a long while Max saw her really smile; she started singing too, why the fuck not. Then the house came into view. Well, house is an understatement. The husbands had a whole fucking domain; ranch and all. Arthur proudly announced that they built the stables themselves, like the chicken coops and most of the garden. They had 5 fucking horses, goats and, obviously, chickens.

Chloe jumps straight outta the car to stare at the large, lavender lined, fields. Beside the house were tucked some bee hives and if the thought of insects wasn’t creepy the fact that they got themselves home-made honey simply had her in awe. Dude. What kind of magical fairy gay fathers did she stumble upon.

“Woah.” Yeah she couldn’t help it; leaned over the railing of one of the pastures. It stretched for so long! And indeed 5 horses grazed peacefully not too far off.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad...

She caught herself smiling before one of the horses, one with a brown head, fixed her attention on her and came towards her. Others noticed too but didn’t move.

“E-easy there.” The animal poked her massive snout beyond the fence, lips pouted as if sniffing.

“Chloe!?” Max sounded scolding; “Did you even ask?”

“It’s a’right!” Arthur beckoned from the car, unpacking some of the essentials. Sebastian was talking to a middle-aged lady on the porch; she was probably going to take care of the animals while they were away. “I could show ‘em to you later if you want to!”

“Of course!” Chloe was in heaven-

Dog!

Came running like a bullet and hopped up on her, tongue out, trying to lap at her face.

“Aa-!”

“Copper!” Dog perked its head back to Sebastian. “Down boy!”

Chloe tried her best: “Down boy, down!”

Dog listened, pranced back on all fours, wagging his thick tail side to side with such power it moved his entire butt.

A whistle from Arthur: “Com’ere, boy.” Damn that accent carried over in the way he said boy, but with that dog was off to it’s owner. Cowboy wasted no time bending down to bend the fluffster, the praises carrying over to her.

“Chloe? Max? What’d you like for dinner?” Sebastian had his hands on his hips; she just noticed that the man was dressed in a flannel that was now wrapped around his waist leaving the man in a tank-top. Damn what a dad...

No, actually, all of this.

Lily poked her head out of the house: “Shrimp Fajitas!”

“Seconded!” Arthur said. “Some fries and guacamole? Think we still have a couple o’shallots.”

“The avocado’s in the bags.” Sebastian said, those last lines were between themselves.

“Yup, gotcha.”

“So’s everyone down for shrimp fajitas?”

“Hell yes!” Chloe resonated, sprinting down the pasture to back home- nope, not sprinting, her ankle hurt lie a bitch.

But she gets to the house eventually, and inside: sunflowers on the table in the living, a cat on the couch and the kitchen being warmed up for dinner.

Of course Max helped with the dinner, or tried to, ‘cause they sorta let her on the back burner. Chloe was watching in awe from the couch. The girl plopped on her lap at one point, asked if she was alright, complimented her hair. Then her and Max tried to braid it. Lily tried on her beanie. It was too big for her head but it suits her. Somewhat.

The all cooked, dinner got served up. Arthur went upstairs to feed the baby, and play with him until he was all exhausted and ready for sleep. Sebastian informed the two of them that Max will be sleeping upstairs in Lily’s bedroom while Chloe will get the spare room downstairs. And the food was fucking delicious, tasty and juicy, with a little beat of heat in each bite. The guacamole too, you could tell it wasn’t one of those store-bought kinds that tasted just a bit too sweet, just a bit too addicting.

And it’s the fullest she felt all week. The two of them have been living off fast-food and snacks bought from gas stations at 2PM for the last past few days... Always on the road... And today, despite losing the car... she kinda felt the happiest she has been in a while... Like, things were gonna look up...

Max found herself playing with the cat, unexpectedly named, drumroll, Cat, and she watched. Lily went upstairs, looking for a boardgame, but instead came down with Arthur. It was getting pretty late.

“We gotta get the horses in the stables, wanna come with?” Arthur asked the girls.

Lily already bolted out the door.

“Isaac’s sleeping?” Sebastian intervened, looking up from the sink where the dishes just got done.

“Not really. He’s still a bit rowdy.”

“Should I put in a round of laundry?”

“I ain’t thinkin’ we got any? We did the last batch yesterday ‘cause the trip.”

Sebastian bobbed his head, hands on hips. “I’ll figure something out.”

“ ‘Course you will.” A peck on the lips as the cowboy parted from his husband to go rustle some horses.

What can she say, Chloe got all excited about it: getting to witness the gay wild west up close and personal. Man seriously just went about rounding horses up with a few whistles. All 5 of them came right up, ears perked and eyes all doe-like, snouts extended. Both Max and Chloe got designated halter holders as Arthur put them around the horses’ heads one by one. Chloe got the courage to try herself, on the little horse, the pony. She did it! ... after apologizing for bending the animal’s ear. Arthur laughed though. Presented them all.

“The black one’s Ash.” That one was the first to go into the stable. “He was a racer; got in a accident: caught in the chute at the start of a race.” And the poor thing has one big scar on the shoulder and some smaller ones on the neck and cheek. “He’s a bit jumpy ‘cause o’that but he’s a real good loyal horse and I have a hunch he’ll just die for Sebastian ‘cause he’s lovin’ that man so much.” Arthur caressed the dark head before taking the halter off and closing the stall up.

Then outside again for the next horse: “The big brute’s Victoria.” Well she really was big, almost all white, but looked much gentler than Ash. “She was my first horse, even before I met him. Poor ol’ girl’s seen some stuff.”

Next horse; the pony: “She’s prob’ly the most expensive horse we got on ‘ere. Lily’s competition horse: Princess. And she lives up to the name.” Chloe got the sense that she was a spoiled little thing with a bit of a temper. She looked the part.

Up next the horse that came and greeted Chloe as she jumped out of the car: “Morrowind-”

“Wait. Like the game?” Max asked.

“Was Sean’s idea.” Who the hell was Sean? “Made Sebastian play The Elder Scrolls, but we couldn’t name‘er Skyrim.”

Max snorted: “Well why not?”

“Well you try riding a Mustang named Skyrim.”

“Woah, A Mustang? Like a wild horse?”

“Yeah, got her from the Bureau of Land Management. ‘bout last June I think. And the one left in the pasture’s Whitehide; also from the Bureau.”

 They still played that board game with Lily upon re-entering the house, up until the little girl more or less fell asleep in Max’s lap. She was to sleep with the dad.

And Chloe was to go downstairs. Spare room. And that’s exactly what it looked like: all filled up with trinkets and older stuff and... workout equipment. But there she goes, sneaking by the heavy machinery and under the yellow blanket of the bed there, trying to find a pose that felt nice. Head up, nope, on the side, still nope, on the belly, arms dangling from the side- wait what’s that.

Square, plastic, but paper thin- cigarettes.

Chloe sat straight up. Men smoked. Oh yes, yes, yes. She pulled one out and lit it up; she still got the lighter with her. Cranked up the window as well. Oh how she missed these. She could of used some of these this entire week, damn.

Yeah today wasn’t so bad. Today wasn’t bad at all.

She got no place to go. Maybe she can ask of them to stay here. She’d like to.

 She woke up to the soft strumming of a guitar. She thought it was a dream, but no, someone was actually playing the guitar; out on the porch. Baby gurgling. She got up to peek out the window; she could understand the lyrics now:

“Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys- Don’t let’em play guitars and ride’em old trucks-”

The front door swung open as Arthur got out with the bags he got out yesterday. They still had a holiday... and her and Max still needed to reach Seattle.

“Should I wake ‘em up? Don’t wanna drag the kids to Seattle. Isaac’s been awake-” a sigh. And for a moment Chloe felt like an intruder in this house.

“Let them sleep, Arthur, they had a rough day yesterday.”

Chloe watched the man seat down by his guitar-baby-holding husband, arm wrapping around the shoulders.

“Guess just anxious. Girls’ been through lot... barely survivin’ that tornado in Arcadia. That Chloe lost her family back there...” a sigh.

“We’re gonna get them to Max’s parents in Seattle. It’s gonna be fine.”

Chloe’s hands shook on the window sill. A huff. She went back to the cigarette pack she hid under the bed. She didn’t dare open up the window again.

Two cigarettes.

She heard someone come downstairs, thought it was Max so she opened up the door.

“Mornin’!” it was Arthur, grand smile on his lips.

Then a wheezed breath and a cough.

Oh shit...

Another cough.

“Can... Can you open up a window, Chloe.” And another cough. “Please.”

She rused to do so; clumsy hands didn’t do a good job at it, but she tried... Arthur leaned over towards the window, taking in some really deep breaths. She could hear Sebastian coming in from outside too.

“E-everything alright?” she dared ask; the coughing seemed to be gone.

“Yeah...” A drawn out inhale that sounded loaded with mucus, followed by a spit out the window. “I’ll be a’right...” A scratch of the beard.

Sebastian let Isaac roam the room:

“You smoked in here?” scolding.

“I...”

“Buck-” Arthur held his husband back. “It’s a’right. He ain’t known.”

The scowl that covered Sebastian’s face mellowed: “Go get some fresh air.”

Some more dried up coughs while trying to get the words out: “Will do. Gotta feed the horses.” And the man stumbled out.

“I’m sorry. I’m... I’m so so so sorry.” Chloe tried.

“Those were my cigarettes, right?” Sebastian cut her up.

“What?”

“The ones under the bed...”

“Yeah... I shouldn’t have-”

Sebastian listened, bobbed his head. “Help me open up the windows.”

And that they did; the man took the remaining packet and thre it in the bin. There was a story behind that... and Chloe’s not sure if she wants to know it. Dude’s all snappy because of it now. But once Max’s awake, they fix themselves some breakfast and set out to Seattle. It’s a few hour’s drive, depending on traffic.

 “Max...” They’re almost there, the skyscrapers breaking the horizon line with their ‘magnificence’. “I don’t think I can stay with your parents.”

“You know they won’t be mad at you for what happened.”

“I know, I know...”

“You’re not a burden, Chloe, okay?”

“It’s not that...” she snapped back. Sebastian gazed at them in the rearview mirror.

Silence.

“Is... Urhm, Sebastian... Do you think I can make it up to you? I...” This was so selfish of her, but she can’t help it: “I’ll stay just a few more days until I can make enough money to afford a place. I’m-”

“You’re always welcome at our place.”

“What?- Wait. Really?...”

“You need a place to stay, of course.”

  Safe to say she might have gotten adopted by fairy husbands. Oh, did she mention they were badass detectives too?