#its the first thing i have from breyer and i love it

[jarojagr]

knoebels // 28.5.23

[colorful-horses]

💐 ?

💐 - who’s your favourite mlp blog?

I don't know if I have a Single favorite blogger, so heres a list of some of my absolute favorite pony bloggers:

🎨 MLP Art Blogs

@cassettepony - Such a unique art style. Cannot stress enough how unique her art style is! It's very stylistic and the colors are POPPIN- they're so saturated and pretty! Her art reminds me of jolly ranchers,, I also absolutely love the exaggerated expressions and how she draws EYES (when the corner of the mouth slightly clips over the bottom of the eye.........immaculate) + She does something really special that I never see any other pony artists doing, which is giving the ponies little chin hairs or 5 o'clock shadows (I. i don't know what it's called please forgive me). It is so special and cool to see, and it's so recognizable! I ADORE Cassettes art and I've always been too shy to say hi so uhhh. Hi! 👋

@msponies - ponies drawn in mspaint. HIGH QUALITY posts here. I am so inspired by their use of colors- the RANGE in some of these posts is crazy. Some of these drawings have such extremely unique color combos that you wouldn't think would work so well together, but msponies is just a master at using a color palette to its full potential its actually crazy! Their Trixie drawings are some of the best, and I cant help but admire how bold their backgrounds are (yea I know that kinda goes hand in hand with the whole color palette thing but i just really like their art); the bold colors and the dark outlines are so scrumptious

@celebrationcastle - They don't update extremely often, but when they do, you kno its gonna be a top tier post. They have a very flexible artstyle, and they post fanart for every generation. They were the ones who made that Valentines Pinkie Pie design that popped off a while ago, and for good reason; they are extremely good at drawing and designing. Like, they've completely mastered the artstyle of g3 and g4 (and probably every other gen. its nuts), and their g5 fanarts art probably my favorite I've ever seen (sunny starscout, my beloved). Everything they post is a banger. Their blog is just such a big inspiration to me :,)

📖 General MLP Blogs

@yodawgiheardyoulikeponies - absolute FAVORITE pony collecting blog. OP is SO sweet and her collection is AMAZING! I absolutely adore her photos and her posts, and her enthusiasm about collecting is so infectious. The positive energy on her blog is absolutely pure sugar, and I just really cannot stress enough how much effort she puts into her posts. She makes little pony photo shoots! And makes little stories out of them!!! It's so fun to just sit and read through. I always check her blog after new merch is released just because it's it's interesting to read about a Pony Veteran giving their input on modern toys. 1000/10 I love this blog

@ahorseofeverycolor - I only have notifications on for like. 5 or 6 blogs? And this is definitely one of them. They regularly post about ponies and horses (okay, they mostly focus on Breyers, but thats not a negative to me at all- I got my first Breyer the other day BECAUSE of this blog, lol), and their blog is just so clean and organized! They post about so many different kinds of ponies, whether it be comparing flat-footed release to concave foot releases, or custom ponies they made themselves, or just really cool pony finds that aren't necessarily obtainable (prototypes, special custom ponies commissioned by hasbro by professional artists, etc) but are really cool to look at!!! I really like this blog!!!

@mustcollecthorses - This is a blog that I have a super bad habit of opening and then scrolling through for like. 2 hours straight, lol. It's a mix of reblogs and original posts, so it's really my Ideal pony blog; usually when I hear about pony news, it's because he reblogged it! It's a very focused blog, so it's definitely a good one to follow if you need some more horses on your dash! He recently made an edit of Hitch from the new 5 pack to give him brushable hair, which I absolutely love (why did they gotta give him sculpted hair umu) I also like that OP leaves tags on the posts he reblogs! I don't know if it's just me, but I always like a blog more if they add tags with input about the toys and news and things like that. It adds some personality and a Vibe to the blog and I just really like it!!!

ok thats all! i of course follow a bunch of other pony themed blogs, but those are some of my top favorites, and ill limit it to 3 per category for the sake of simplicity. please consider following them! They're all so cool and talented!!!

--

send me pony themed asks

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

[thegreenwolf]

Betting on the Ponies (originally posted at my blog at https://thegreenwolf.com/betting-on-the-ponies/)

(Above:  Breyer Classic Arabian Stallion made over into a winged unicorn with real wings from a barnyard mix rooster I raised for meat.)

If you’ve been paying attention to my social media or my shop links at all, you may have noticed that I haven’t really been posting much in the way of new hide and bone art for the past year or so. It’s not that I’ve stopped; I still make some fun things for my Patrons on Patreon every month, and I make some bone, tooth and claw jewelry on Etsy to order. But ever since events dried up, I haven’t been regularly making new batches of costume pieces or other Vulture Culture art. My usual M.O. was to make all sorts of new things for an upcoming event, and then once the weekend was done and I was home, post whatever hadn’t sold on Etsy. And since there haven’t been events…well…I’ve just found myself doing other things.

Some of that is because I’ve had to scramble to make up for the lost income; events were a pretty big chunk of my “pay”, and losing them meant having to tighten the belt. I also lost several other income streams thanks to the pandemic making it unsafe to be around groups of people, which didn’t help. So I had to rely on what was left, along with adopting a few new sources of bits and bobs of cash here and there.

And, honestly, I’ve needed a bit of a break. I’ve been making hide and bone art for over two decades now, and while I love it, any artist eventually wants to explore different media for a while. Sure, I’ve stretched my Vulture wings in new directions, going from costume pieces and ritual tools to assemblages and the Tarot of Bones. But ever since the Tarot came out, I’ve been feeling….not really burned out, but a little creatively wrung out, at least. I’ve really appreciated my Patrons and Etsy customers who have helped me keep a hand in that particular medium, while also allowing me to head off in other directions, too.

Which is to say that if you have been paying attention to the aforementioned social media and shops, you may have also noticed that I’ve been increasing the number of customized Breyer model horses and other animals I’ve made over the past couple of years. This might seem like a heck of a departure from skulls, bones, and other dead things. But in a way it’s really me getting back to long-neglected roots.

(One of my favorite customs I’ve done on one of my favorite molds, the Breyer semi-rearing mustang. )

See, I was a horse girl when I was a kid. Or, rather, I was a wannabe horse girl. I never got to lease or own a horse, and even now in my early 40s I’m still about the greenest rider you’ll find. (Seriously, I need one of those kid-proof horses that’s seen it all, done it all, and is probably more trail-smart than I am.) But I was obsessed with horses from a young age. It started with my very first My Little Pony that I got Christmas morning, 1983 (Applejack, if you must know), and then exploded further with a book on how to draw horses and my first Breyer model (Black Beauty 1991 on the Morganglanz mold) in my preteens. Horse actually took over for Gray Wolf for a few years as my primary animal spirit during my teens, so we have a very long history indeed.

And since I couldn’t have a real horse, I ended up collecting model horses, mostly Breyers with a few old Hartlands for variety. I had over 100 at the peak of my collecting, but I had to sell them all in my early twenties when I was between jobs. In hindsight it was probably for the best because having less stuff made it easier to get through the period of my life where I was moving about once a year, but I do miss that collection.

Back then I did my part to add to the artistic end of the model horse hobby, mostly with badly blended acrylic paint jobs and terrifying mohair manes and tails. But it made me happy, and that was the most important thing. Even though I only knew a couple other collectors in my little rural area, and my only real connection to the hobby was through the quarterly Just About Horses magazine Breyer put out, my collecting really made me happy in the same way that my first fur scraps and bones would catch my interest a few years later.

2020….well, it sucked. We all know that. Pandemic, political stress, financial roller coasters and more made it a really tough year for anyone who wasn’t wealthy enough to hide away and weather it all. And many of us found ourselves with more time at home, in need of distractions and solace. It ended up being a time where many people rediscovered their love of childhood hobbies. I’m one of those people. I’ve been slowly edging my way back in for the past few years, starting with repainting a few old Breyer models found at thrift stores, and then gaining momentum as I found that not only was I much better at customizing these models than I used to be, but I was having fun without the pressure to make a living off of it. (Yes, I love my hide and bone art, but when an art form is your bread and butter, it changes your relationship to it. But that’s a post for another time…)

So 2020 saw me really ramp up my customization efforts. I had to stop for a few months in summer and fall when I moved to a spifftacular new living space on the farm I’ve been working on the past few years (with, by the way, THE best studio space EVER!) but as the days shortened I found myself making more dedicated time to repainting and otherwise customizing models. I even started keeping a few of the models I’d bought to customize that were in better condition to create a small, but slowly growing original finish collection, and that really helped me feel like I was back in the (not actually a) saddle.*

That’s why a well-established artist of organic, pagan-influenced arts made from fur and leather and bone and feather suddenly started painting all these secondhand plastic ponies. It’s giving me that deep injection of childhood nostalgia balanced with adult skill and perspective, and it’s offered me a much-needed break from the exhausting schedule I’ve been living the past decade or so. Because suddenly, even with the time spent rearranging my income opportunities to make sure I could stay afloat, I found myself with a little time that hadn’t been scheduled to death, and when I thought about what I wanted to do with that time, I gravitated toward one of the few creative outlets in my life that was purely for fun.**

(Yes, this IS fan art of “The Last Unicorn”! I used a Breyer Stablemate rearing Arabian for the unicorn, and a Breyer Spanish fighting bull for the Red Bull. A LOT of fun to make this particular project.)

In a way having all my events canceled was one of the best things that happened to me, because it made me slow the fuck down. I no longer had several weekends a year where I had to spend weeks beforehand making art and otherwise preparing to be away from all my farm responsibilities for 4-7 days at a time, with all the packing and moving and setup and vending and teaching and teardown and going home and unpacking and exhaustion that goes with each event. I realized just how much each one was taking out of me, especially as I’ve gotten older. And I also recognized how much pressure I had been putting on myself to ALWAYS MAKE MORE STUFF FOR ETSY EVERY WEEK OR ELSE.

So the model horses are really sort of a symbol of the childhood joy I’ve managed to recapture, wresting time and energy back from my workaholic tendencies. I’ve even been thinking about what my professional life is going to look like once the pandemic eases up enough to allow events again, and whether I’ll put the same amount of time toward vending and and teaching at conventions and festivals as I used to. (There are a few favorites that I’m not going to miss for anything, so don’t worry about me dropping out entirely.) But for the first time in a very long time, I’m relearning to prioritize myself, and figuring out that maybe I don’t have to go hell-bent for leather every week, every year, in order to keep the bills paid and the critters fed.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for this dead-critter-artist, pagan-nonfic-author, teacher-vendor-farmer, to indulge herself with something fun, and bet on the ponies to help her get through the tough times.

(P.S. Amid everything going on, I am back to working steadily on my next book, which I mentioned in this blog post almost a year ago. As a recap, its working title is Coyote’s Journey: Deeper Work With the Major Arcana, and it’s a deep dive into that section of the tarot using pathworkings with the animals I assigned to the major arcana of the Tarot of Bones. It’s not just a Tarot of Bones book, though; it’s a good way to get a new, nature-based angle on the majors in general, as well as hopefully gain a better understanding of yourself. My goal is to have it out later this year, self-pub of course, and at the rate I’m going it may end up being my longest book! Stay tuned, and if you want to get excerpts of the work-in-progress, become my Patron for as little as $1/month!)

*At the height of my “horse girl” phase, I had a really beat-up pony saddle I’d bought for ten bucks at a yard sale, and got a cheap saddle stand for it and put it in my room. And yes, I occasionally sat on it and pretended I was riding an actual horse. Hey, it made me happy at the time, and it was the closest I was ever going to get apart from a trail ride every few years.

**Yes, I do sell my customs. But I don’t make them on a schedule, I take commissions VERY sparingly, and I’m getting to stretch some new creative muscles, especially in the realms of sculpting and painting, so this is primarily for my enjoyment. The sales are just a side benefit.

(My ode to the forests of the Pacific Northwest, a Breyer deer repainted to resemble the Columbian black-tailed deer that frequent the farm I live on, along with hand-sculpted Amanita muscaria mushrooms, real and fake moss, and real lichens from fallen branches.)

[whirlaway41]

When I was a horse crazy kid, my parents got me my first Breyer model. Give the kid a fake horse and maybe she’ll be satisfied, right? Well, the problem was it wasn’t just a model of any horse. It wasn’t a paint horse, an appaloosa, a backyard pony or a fancy Morgan. It was a plain, brown horse in the middle of a long, fluid step, with no remarkable features or even a hint of white. There was nothing special about that model horse at all, actually, save for one thing: 

His name was John Henry.

That model horse, inspired by a cranky but brilliant old gelding, whose accolades included two Horse of the Year titles over the course of a career that spanned an unheard of 10 years and one of the most memorable races of the decade in the inaugural 1981 Arlington Million , changed everything. From then on it wasn’t about horses, it was about hoofbeats. The roar of a crowd. It was about Man ‘O War. Ruffian. Citation. It was about roses and May and that elusive crown only thirteen horses have ever worn. That model horse is why I made treks into the Holy Land of horse country anytime we visited family in Louisville, why I skipped my prom to go to the Kentucky Derby, why the moment I had my Master’s degree in my grubby little hands I hopped in the car and headed down I-64 with the Kentucky border set dead in my sights. It’s why I memorized all of the Kentucky Derby winners on accident, have old binders filled with newspaper articles and boxes of archived issues of the Blood-Horse that go back to 1995. It’s why I had a nine year career in the horse industry. Took hundreds, thousands of photos of famous – and not famous – thoroughbreds. In many ways, the trajectory of much of my life traces back to this horse.

During his final years at the Kentucky Horse Park, where he became the first Hall of Champions resident and sole occupant of the first stall on the left until his death at the great age of 32 in 2007, his handlers told me stories upon stories of him cornering hapless seasonal workers in the corner of his stall, biting the person presenting him during the daily Hall of Champions shows, etc. etc. My favorite was the tale of his colic surgery, when a veterinarian smacked him in the nose as he was coming out of anesthesia to help him come around. “Watch it,” someone told him. “He’ll remember that.” Later, when John Henry was fine and frisky, he indeed got his revenge with a well-placed bite – on the hapless vet’s nose. 

What an odd horse to fall in love with. John Henry didn’t have the blue blood of Secretariat. The elegance of Rachel Alexandra. The nobility of Northern Dancer. John Henry was the son of Ole Bob Bowers, who was about as illustrious as his name sounds, and his offspring was an ordinary looking creature with a less-than friendly attitude who reportedly earned his name after ripping a steel feed tub off the wall and throwing it at someone. You don’t come any more blue-collar than John Henry, from his less-than-humble lineage to his $1,100 price tag as a yearling to his 83 starts from 1977-1984.

John Henry started my love affair with thoroughbreds. He was my first idol. My first love. He was also the first time a legend stepped out of my imagination and became something real, from the first time I met him as a starstruck ten year old girl, to our last encounter shortly before he died. 

The cranky old bastard was racing at its best, and I will never forget him.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N:  Enter Marcus Pike, stage right

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer​ , @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse​ , @the-feckless-wonder​ , @pascalisthepunkest​ , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501​ , @fioccodineveautunnale​  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ , @lilkermit14​ , @tortles   [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5]

Part 6 – Step Forward, Step Back, Find Your Partner Quick

Helen tried her best to console a distraught Rosemary as Officer Garcia spoke to several of his colleagues in the hallway.  Her screams had startled the director, who was already on edge due to the break-in and if the circumstances had been different, the look of surprise and horror on the officer’s face would have reduced Helen to peals of laughter.  But all the situation did was add worry to her shoulders.

For nearly two hours, the officers questioned Rosemary about the break-in, about the missing piece, and they kept asking if the museum had any enemies. As much as she wanted to say Fred Breyers out of pure spite, Rosemary kept her mouth shut – sure some people weren’t always pleased with some of their program or exhibit topics, but nothing that would result in the theft of an artifact or the physical beating of a staff member.  The two women were exhausted by the time the three cops left the building.  Rosemary laid on the couch in her office, a wet cloth over her eyes as the lingering headache from the attack ramped up under this new stress.

“Rose, are you going to be okay?”  Helen’s voice was soft, but unable to keep the worried tone at bay.

“I honestly don’t know.  That statue was the only thing missing.  I don’t know if I’m upset because I promised Robert we’d care for it or mad as hell that accepting that ugly ass hunk of bronze led to all of this and possibly hurt the museum’s reputation.”  She sighed heavily, the now cool cloth doing little to help her.  She slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the sofa’s edge.

“I wouldn’t worry about our reputation.  I’m already working with Marquetta on a press release to get ahead of the game.  Louis over at the Caller always does right by us, I’ll give him the scoop first and he’ll spin it in our favor.”  Helen leaned back.  “I’ll also call major donors today to inform them of the situation.”

“I’m sorry, Helen.  I never thought this would have happened!”  The younger woman groaned heavily as she tried to stand, but the director held out her hand to keep her from getting up.  The body stilled.

“Did Francois’ report show anything differently than what Robert had given you?”  Before Robert’s health worsened, Rosemary contacted an old friend of hers to appraise the piece as Helen wanted a second opinion for the insurance company.  The in-depth discussion about the findings with Helen was moved back first by Robert’s death and then the attack.  “Are we still looking at the same value?”

“I reread it the day before the attack to prep for the meeting that never obviously happened, and he seems to agree with the assessment Robert gave us. The statue was processed into the collections several months ago and I put in Robert’s information, but never got around to putting in Francois’ report.”

“Well, so long as the original value was imputed into the report, it’ll give us something for the insurance company.”

“Are we going to report it lost?  What if they recover it?”

“Rose, I don’t mean to sound mean, but I doubt these officers are going to find the piece.  Whoever has it is probably long gone by now.”  Helen glanced over at her.  “Unless a miracle happens.”

“Well good thing I believe in manifestation and miracles.”  For the first time in what seemed like a long while, Rosemary smiled as her old humor began to shine through.  The director smiled back, unable to let the infectious comment not affect her.

“We’ll see.”

---***---

Two Weeks Later

“Pike!  Get in here!” Carmichael’s voice carried through the small cluster of offices their department occupied.  “Pike!”

“I’m coming!  Damn, give me a second!”  Pike grumbled as he scurried from his office and across to hers.  She wasn’t a loud person, so the excited shout she gave had everyone around her curious.  As Pike entered the room, he could see his partner standing behind her desk, doing a little hop-dance.  He raised an eyebrow.

“You need to look at this!”  She pointed at the computer, her smile so big it nearly took over her face. He stopped because she was giggling, Carmichael never giggled.  Whatever this was, it had to been good.  Pike came around the desk and bent down to see what she was looking at and when his eyes landed on the screen, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

“This is one of them, isn’t it?”  Carmichael asked, her voice quivering in excitement.  He ran out of the office to the command center for the cold cases, his presence startling his crew.  He looked over at the evidence board and ripped off a picture hanging in the middle before rifling through one of the boxes to find the corresponding file. He ran back to the office.

The picture in his hand was faded with time, that grainy look of age that pictures older pictures were taking on, but despite those flaws, the sculpture in the photo matched the one in the new alert in the NSAF database.  The Cornucopia had always been breathtaking.

And it’s been missing since 1993.

The agents glanced over the dossier, reviewing the piece to try and discover how this priceless Russian artifact made its way to what looks like a small museum in Western Michigan.  Neither had reviewed the original case file closely and both felt their jaws dropping as they read further and further into its history:

A rare example of the early Ukrainian Avant Garde art movement, The Cornucopia was created by Artem Chumak, a well-known artist from Odessa. Commissioned by the then-governor of the country as a gift to Czar Nicolas II in 1907, the piece was designed to showcase the entirety of the Ukraine in a single moment.  Because the country was known for its agriculture, Chumak chose to use the image of the cornucopia as his inspiration.

The piece is made of bronze and inlaid with the following precious gemstones:

               Siberian diamond

               Ural sapphire

               Ural ruby

               Ural jade

               Russian emerald

               Russian opal

               Ukrainian pearl

Upon the fall of the Russian empire in 1917, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna Romanov took the piece along with several others from the royal art collection when she fled Russia.  She remained owner of the piece until 1920, when she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

In turn, the Grand Duke loaned the piece to the National Museum of History and Art and it remained with the museum until the outbreak of World War II. The ducal family took the piece back, along with several others to protect the collection from the advancement of the Nazis.

Unfortunately, the move did little good and much of the museum’s collection, including the pieces stored in the ducal family home, were taken by the Nazis, with intention of destroying them as part of the Germanization of the annexed country.

The pieces remained missing until 1949, when a team from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program (a.k.a. the Monument Men), recovered the stolen collections in a cellar in Hamburg and returned them to their respective homes.  The Cornucopia was returned to the museum and was on display until the ducal family attempted to sell the piece in 1965.  The sale failed and the family remained owners until the piece was loaned to the Luxembourg-American Cultural Museum in the U.S. in 1992.

In 1993, the piece was stolen from the museum and reported to the FBI’s Art Theft Squad days later.  The piece has yet to be recovered despite the best attempts of the team.

Pike looked at Carmichael and they grinned at each other.  While it being reported as missing didn’t mean that they had found it, it did mean that this cold case was heating up.

“Do you think we found our key?”  He didn’t want to sound hopeful, but he had to admit he was optimistic that they were much closer to solving this case.  The evidence they had been sifting through meticulously was painting a picture, but like a jigsaw puzzle, they were still missing pieces that brought it all together.

“I think we have.”  Carmichael replied.  They grinned at each other.

“Whose turn is it to go and do the interview?”  

“Mine, but could you do it?  Marty is out of town on business this week and I can’t leave Dinah alone.”  She rarely asked to trade like this, but Pike held up his hands in understanding.  They smiled, grateful they were partnered up, their work relationship had always been a smooth one.

“Sure, what could possibly happen in Michigan?”

They laughed as they started to walk to the command center.

---***---

Rosemary and Banana walked into the house, both exhausted from the day, the museum’s annual fall field trip event a cacophony of noise and excitement. The program had been exactly what Rosemary needed – something that distracted her from everything that had happened over the last month.  Her stomach hurt all day from her laughter as young kids swarmed the museum in their Halloween costumes.

As she hung up her coat, she caught something out of the corner of her eye on the kitchen table.  Walking over, Rosemary immediately recognized Fern’s loopy handwriting.

Hey sweetie, probate hasn’t cleared yet, but I heard word it should within the month.  Not to jinx it, but welcome to Saugatuck – its’ about time!  I’m also including some keys to Robert’s safety deposit boxes for safekeeping.  You can’t open them until the probate has cleared, so don’t get ahead of yourself! Love you, ae-in.  Always.  -F

“Oh, thank god.”  She huffed as she opened the bulky envelope, dumping out various keys and paperwork, including the deed to the house and the store.  She had an underlying fear that something would happen, and Robert’s wishes would have been overturned and she would get nothing.  “Looks like we’re here for the time being, Baba!”

Rosemary read through the papers and picked up her phone to call Fern. For the next hour, the two women chatted about the changes, what she needed to do to register ownership with the state, and more.  After they said their good-byes, Rosemary pulled her jacket on and patted Banana on the head as she left the house.  It was dark now, but she knew the path through the cemetery and trudged up the hill towards Robert’s grave with no problem.

“You know, I’m certain you chose this spot for some reason or another, but I think it’s to punish me for not getting enough exercise.”  She groused at the polished granite, wondering how she made this walk as often as she did, and it still robbed her of her breath. She was out of shape.  

Robert’s cheeky grin beamed from the porcelain cameo embedded into the stone.  She had never seen anything like it, but he had told her it was common among Eastern European communities.  He described how they used this horribly unflattering photo for his aunt Ionna’s cameo and that he vowed he’d choose his own rather than leave it to his relatives to decide.

She sat down on the damp ground and settle in.  She was still visiting the cemetery daily and while she didn’t cry as much as she had in the beginning, her throat always felt painful after she left.  Wrapping the coat around her tightly she sighed.

“You missed our field trip day.  I know you loved volunteering for it and the kids who remembered you from last year asked where you were.”  She smiled. “I told them you were attending as a ghost and that they couldn’t see you.  I think they believed me.

“I don’t know what strings you pulled up on that cloud of yours, but Fern thinks the probate will clear next month.  I’m glad, this whole process has been a pain and thank you for not making me go through it.  I’d give up and just die if Fern weren’t in charge.  My landlord was mad I’m breaking my lease, but I know you’re excited, you always hated that place.”  She sighed as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I miss you.”  Her voice crackled with tears.  “I miss you so much, Robert!  I hate that you’re gone.  I hate that! I hate this!  And I failed you!  They still haven’t found the statue and I contacted the FBI and I haven’t heard anything, and I don’t know what to do!”

She cried harder, her ribs hurting as if the pain she experienced weeks ago was still fresh.  She gripped her sides as she continued to sob.   She was tired and everything that had happen in the month and a half since Robert died was catching up with her.  Rosemary sat in the cold evening for hours and let her sadness out.  When she finally left, the exhaustion she felt forced her straight to bed when she arrived at the house.  In a bit of mercy, she slept a dreamless sleep for once.

---***---

“Good morning.”  The deep voice caused Marquetta to turn from the display case she was working on.  A tall man with brown hair and a kind smile stood at the front desk.  She watched as Bob ambled over to welcome him.  She couldn’t hear their conversation after that, but she kept a subtle watch on the interaction as the two men talked.  The stranger smiled again and walked past her towards the stairs and she watched up trudge up each step until he was out of sight.

“You aren’t being very subtle.”  Bob’s voice sounded behind her and Marquetta jumped at the noise.  She felt herself grow hot, grateful her dark skin hid the blush rushing across her cheeks.  She turned to look at Bob, who was grinning at her.

“Who was that?”  She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Some FBI agent wanting to talk to Rosemary.”

“FBI?”  Marquette frowned before her eyebrows shot up.  “FBI!  Oh my god! They’re here!”

“Don’t shout.  It’s rude.”

“No, Bob!  Rosemary reported that statue that got stolen to the FBI!  That means they know about it!  They’re here for that!”

“Does that mean they’ll find the men who hurt her?”  He sounded hopeful at the idea.  Even if he thought her manners were lacking, Bob was deeply upset that Rosemary had been hurt the way she had been.  If this young agent can help find her attackers, he was all for it.

“I bet they do if they find the statue.”  The two stopped talking when Rosemary and Banana entered the building. She looked up and felt awkward when she realized they were staring at her.

“Um, is something wrong?”  She sounded unsure of herself and Bob got angry, realizing that these men didn’t just rob the museum of this ugly statue, it robbed Rosemary of her self-assurance.

“Never, Rose.  There is an agent from the FBI in your office.  Marquetta says you contacted them.”  She startled, not believing that her reporting the stolen item would bring them to her front door.  They were just a small history museum in Michigan, not the Detroit Institute of Art or the Smithsonian.  She figured she’d get an email or a call, but never a real agent.

“They’re here?  Really?” Her eyes lit up when Bob nodded. She started to laugh because she didn’t know what else to do.  Marquetta walked over to hug her and the physical contact help to ground her.

“He’s good looking, too.”  Marquetta whispered in her ear.  Rosemary pulled back at the comment. “Like really good looking.  His butt is cute.”

The two women giggled at the comment and hugged again.  Picking up the leash she dropped, the curator and her furry companion went towards the stairs, hope beginning to bubble in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t failed Robert after all, she thought.  When she reached the third floor, she stopped to catch her breath before walking down to her office.

When she stepped into the doorway, she saw him standing there, looking at her walls.  She couldn’t see his face, but everything about his presence radiated kindness – something she hadn’t expected from an FBI agent.  When he turned to look at her as she cleared her throat, his face lit up in a smile and she couldn’t help but smile back.  For the first time in weeks, she felt safe.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.”  He held out his hand to her.  She took it with her customary firm grip.

“I’m Rosemary Carter.  Welcome to Fort Jamison.”

[mistwhisperexpress]

Types of SSO Players - Part Two

Because of the success of my first part (thank you all so so much by the way, it truly means so much that so many of you loved it <3), I decided to make a part two to this series, with the suggestion of possible future parts if people continue to enjoy this. I’ve been a little scarce lately, so it felt like now would be the perfect time to finally release this! Included are also the additions (with their permission) of those who suggested other types with my last one, so everything can be in a nice easy to find place. As always, please feel free to suggest more!

Part One

The lovely additions from other users, my additions to them are in italics;

The Loner @veronikamasterhouse - “Hi Bye” These players don’t ride with anyone and are more content to traverse the land and quests by themselves. Usually super polite for the two seconds you can converse with them. Then they’re off again galloping away for more solo escapades. May not even notice you, if they pay no attention to the chat.

SSO Is My Therapy @mirandashadowborn - Still running around even though they’ve done most of the quests (its relaxing). New horse breeds bring joy cause its something to live for. Quiet during meetups cause they feel like they’re bugging people. Plays at like 1am cause crowds make them nervous. South Hoof is likely a safe haven, and go to relax place, possibly Mistfall too. The soundtracks are just so beautiful okay, they ease my soul

The Horse Addict Please Send Help @sso-eden-dawnvalley - Has just spent the entire day at the barn riding/cleaning stalls only to come home and log on to continue taking care of virtual horses. Knows more random horse facts than any sensible individual. Gets regularly kicked out of roleplays due to correcting the other players’ horse characters if they aren’t accurate to real life horses

The New types;

The Role-Player - Any roles? “Wild role in Golden, say ‘meep’ to join! Tree stallys needed” I used to be this, do you guys still use asterisks? I’m always curious about what this scene is like now since RPing is how I found my love of writing and why I now write thousands of words at a time with my closest friend to create stories together, but I feel like it would be weird to just silently observe what’s going on. Is it a lot of standing? Do you guys actually do shit, like act it out? Is it all fancy and official? Or my like Animal Jam with all you see is zeniths? Anyway you’re cool, create your stories, you funky RPers, just remember to be safe and don’t do romance ones through the game, theres rules against it for a reason.

The No More - I am not getting another horse until I finish training the ones I have. I am not getting another hor- oops.

The Spender - I can hear my star coins crying. Has likely has 1000 or more star coins, and they’re all gone in a day. Probably less than an hour. How do I know this? Because this is me. I is this. Rest In Peace my star coins, you will be missed. 

The Character - Didn’t use their own name, gets very confused when both their real name and MC’s name are used. Has likely felt the infinite amount awkwardness of responding to the wrong name and then realizing they meant someone else, or accidentally ignoring someone for five minutes. Tiffany? Bitch who? Oh wait, that’s me.

Cherisher of Horses - Don’t talk to me or my son or my son’s son or my son’s son’s son ever again.

The Horse Lover - Has every horse, or at least one of each. Knows coat names and colorings and everything far too well. I envy you, you are the masters, I bow to you. Please share with me your infinite wisdom, oh wise one. I used to know all of this because I was a Horse Girl™ and collected Breyers like your bookshelf collects dust (I have over 300 and still try and go to Breyerfest every year please send help), but then my interest turned to writing and I uh, may have forgotten like almost everything except for roans and appaloosa variants like fleabittens and then of course dapples because any horse with dapples is my weakness, whoops?

The Explorer - Very close to the adventurous idiot, but with more method to their madness. Still tries to get into places they shouldn’t, though. Naughty bastards. They just want to see everything there is to see and climb all the things to climb. Probably also has routes to everywhere and each race memorized by heart.

And because I added them late and not many people saw them, here were my own additions to my last post;

The Collector - Stars, spiders, golden horseshoes, tokens, new clothes, horses, tack, EVERYTHING. The day is not done until every nook and cranny has been discovered and each horse and item is in my possession and the riches and spoils are mine.

The Achievement Hunter - Where’s the highest peak? Because I need to climb it. I will not stop until every page in this journal is gold. Gold, you hear me? Not silver, not bronze. Gold.

Witching Hour (because it was spoopy month time and still should be) - Always on at midnight, when the server is at it’s quietest. There’s not a peep from global, nor a pip from say. All the night is quiet on this darkest day. Players occasionally creep up from behind the upcoming hills of paths, but all is still silent as the world turns black. Probably sleep deprived with no schedule, likely an art person, though that may just be me since I write best at night and tend to play the game at night too whoops. Probably also The Loner, either by choice or by force because they're on at a time when no one else is alive.

[whereareroo]

SUPREME RELIGION

WF THOUGHTS (9/28/20).

Are you interested in Supreme Court history. If not, stop reading now.

The Constitution was signed in 1787. After ratification by the States, is went into effect on March 4, 1789. A few months later, on September 24th, Congress passed The Judiciary Act of 1789 and President Washington immediately signed it into law. Both actions, passage by Congress and execution by the President, happened on the same day. Also on September 24th, Washington nominated the original Justices of the Supreme Court. Only 2 days later, the Senate confirmed all of Washington's nominees. We had a Supreme Court! It started to conduct business in 1790. (Please don't tell Mitch McConnell, or Lindsey Graham, that the entire original Court was appointed and confirmed in 48 hours.)

As an aside, isn't it interesting that all of this historic Supreme Court activity occurred at the end of September? We just marked the anniversary of these great events. At the same time, at the end of September in 2020, new Supreme Court history is being made. September seems to be a big month for the Court.

Let's get back to history and my point for the day.

Starting in 1789 with Washington, and continuing until 1836, the "unwritten rule" was that all Supreme Court Justices had to be male, White, and Protestant. In that era, all Presidents followed the unwritten rule.

In 1836, there was a big breakthrough. A Catholic was appointed to the Court. It wasn't a very big breakthrough. The next Catholic wasn't appointed until 1894.

Another big breakthrough came in 1916. The first Jewish person was appointed to the Court.

To round out the big breakthroughs, let me give you two other data points. The first Black person was not appointed until 1967. The first woman was not appointed until 1981.

Today, I want to focus on the religion issue. In the history of the Court, reaching all the way back to Washington's original appointees, we've had 115 Supreme Court Justices. Only 8 of the 115 were Jewish. Only 14 of the 115 were Catholic. A full 80.8% of the 115, that's 93 of the Justices, were Protestant. Think about those numbers. The historic Protestant domination of the Supreme Court is both unbelievable and undeniable.

At some point, the Protestant domination could not be justified by Presidents and Senators. After the appointment of the first Jewish Justice in 1916, a new tradition developed with respect to Supreme Court appointments. The new "unwritten rule" was that there was a designated "Jewish Seat" and a designated "Catholic Seat." A pattern developed wherein, almost always, there was a Jew and a Catholic on the Supreme Court. Sometimes, under unusual circumstances, there would be two Jews or two Catholics. This new pattern generally continued for about 70 years. (For peculiar reasons surrounding the resignation of Justice Abe Fortas, an occupant of the "Jewish Seat," that seat was empty from 1969 until the appointment of Justice Ginsburg in 1993.)

Starting around the time Justice Scalia (a Catholic) was appointed in 1986, something very unusual started to happen. The floodgates opened for Catholic Justices! Catholics were no longer limited to a seat or two on the Court. In 2006, with the appointment of Justice Alito, Catholics became the majority religion on the Court. Since 2006, most Justices have been Catholic. Imagine that! It took more than 200 years, but the Protestant domination was over.

Things could change, but it looks like Amy Coney Barrett will fill the seat of the late Justice Ginsburg. As you might have heard, Judge Barrett is Catholic. If she is confirmed, the Court will be a group of 6 Catholics, 2 Jews, and a single Protestant (who was raised Catholic.) Yes, two-thirds of the Supreme Court will be Catholic, and there's barely a Protestant in sight. The religious persuasion of the Court has undergone a complete overhaul.

Many books and articles have been written about why recent Presidents put so many Catholics on the Supreme Court. There are dozens of theories. I don't have time to discuss all of the theories, and I don't want all of you to jump out a window. Let me touch upon one basic theory.

The Catholics weren't appointed because they were Catholic. They were appointed because they're Conservative. Republican Presidents (Reagan, Bush I, Bush II, Trump) picked Conservative judges who just happened to be Catholic. If Judge Barrett is confirmed, 5 of the 6 Catholics on the Court will have been appointed by a Republican President. (The exception is Justice Sotomayor, who was appointed by Obama.)

Why have so many Catholics risen to the top of Conservative legal circles? That's a good question that I could debate with you for hours. My short answer is that it probably has something to do with a fixation on education, adoration for rules and regulations, and devotion to rigidity.

This is probably a good time to note that Jesus certainly was not a Conservative. He openly criticized the rules and regulations put forth by Roman authorities and Jewish authorities. Jesus urged us to love, and assist: the poor; the broken; the meek; the sick; the victims of injustice; the imprisoned; widows; orphans; migrants; sinners, and even our enemies. Jesus urged us to share our wealth, and to avoid materialism. It's unlikely that a Republican President would appoint Jesus to the Supreme Court.

The whole Catholic issue is very complex. The teachings of Jesus are unabashedly liberal and loving. Nonetheless, the structure of The Church is conservative, hierarchical, and rigid. Thus, the Catholic population is a strange mix. Some focus on the message and simply tolerate the institution. For others, the message and the institution seem to have equal value. And there are some who believe that the institution is the message. If you talk to a group of 5 Catholics, you're likely to get 5 different viewpoints. Politically and religiously, Catholics are a very diverse group.

Take, for instance, the "Pro-Life" position of The Church. Most people associate that position with the anti-abortion stance of The Church. In American politics, that's a "Conservative" position. On the other hand, the "Pro-Life" position is also the principle behind The Church's support for: criminal justice reform; a ban on capital punishment; universal health care; acceptance of immigrants and migrants; gun control, and; numerous subsidies for the poor and disabled. That list is very "Liberal" in American politics.

Thus, it is no surprise that there are always conflicts amongst the Catholics on the Court. Their Catholicism seems to lead them in different directions. On the current Court, Justice Sotomayor is almost always at odds with her Conservative Catholic colleagues. Not too long ago, Justice Scalia and Justice Brennan were on the Court at the same time. They were both good Catholics. Brennan was an outspoken liberal. Scalia was an outspoken conservative. Their legal battles were epic.

The legal battles might get really interesting when the Court welcomes a Muslim, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist, or a Sikh. Don't hold your breath for those appointments. As you now know, the religious integration of the Court is a very slow process.

My hunch is that the number of Catholics on the Court has hit its zenith. The imbalance is becoming extreme. Today is Yom Kippur, and when the Catholics fade in number I'm rooting for a bigger Jewish contingent on the Court. Starting with Brandeis in 1916, the eight Jewish Justices (all but one appointed by a Democrat) have generally been strong liberal voices. The most recent Jewish trio, Ginsburg-Breyer-Kagan, have been upholding the liberal viewpoint for years. Will we ever have 6 Jewish Justices on the Court at the same time? Only God knows.

You're now fully informed about the religious history of the Supreme Court. You're welcome! G'mar Tov.

[hawkofkrypton]

Brightburn REVIEW [Spoilers!]

I FINALLY got to watch this bad boy and...

I really liked it!

I was giving an hard time to the folks that banned it from my country but I absolutely take back everything: this movie is NOT, I repeat NOT, for the weak of stomach. Maybe its cause I got so used to PG-13 horror flicks (as my friend who watched with me said, “they don’t usually show these things!”) but this one does not mess around. So here’s your warning.

I watched it with my best friend on streaming last night, she didn’t watch any of the trailers first but we both really liked it.

So, I want to first start with the things I wasn’t a big fan of: Some jumpscares felt unnecessary. I disliked them yes but not the point of nonsensically passionate hatred that everyone seems to feel towards jumpscares for some reason, another popular problem this movie suffers is how the trailer made it seem like it was gonna focus less on Brandon’s development and more on him killing people, which isn’t the case. I HATE HATE HATE when they put the movie’s ending shot in the trailer, it makes audiences believe there’s more after that and when it doesn’t happen then they’ll be disappointed.

A thing this movie really excels at its foreshadowing and the Chekhov’s gun, which is a rule that says “don’t introduce elements irrelevant to the story that aren’t gonna come into play later”.

There are simple things, like Brandon’s cover hanging to him like a cape when he first hears the ship or literal checkhov’s guns when the rifle that his uncle gave to him as a birthday gift is what his dad used to try to kill him, then when Brandon gets wounded by his ship’s metal, which plants the info that “the only thing that can harm him is its own ship, his Kryptonite” to the audiences minds. You guys have NO IDEA how disappointed I would have been if they didn’t do anything with the idea, so I smiled when Brandon’s mum got an eureka moment and tried to kill him with a piece of his ship, which failed miserably, but I’m a lot happier seeing horror characters dying by doing the smart thing than a stupid one, it showcases just how hopeless the situation is.

Speaking of smart, Brandon is a sociopathic little shit, but I thought it was a genius idea to make the airplane crash (with no survivors) into the Breyer farm to cover up his destruction of the house and yknow, murder spree, then act like he was the only survivor. Truly the beginnings of a sociopath and I loved it.

Then there are LESS simple examples of foreshadowing but genius nonetheless: remember when Brandon shows near-encyclopedic knowledge about hostile waps, like how they send their offsprings out to be raised on another territory and then destroy it? That’s what Brandon’s species does. They sent him to Earth to “TAKE THE WORLD”, which makes this entire character even more Earth 3 Ultraman-y than he already is. Loved that little detail.

(Although it would be pretty hilarious if Brandon’s species was actually just creepy but benevolent and the kid being a sociopathic little shit interpreted it in its own way. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first message from a superior that Brandon misinterprets)

I believe that its a lot better when the movie doesn’t rely on jumpscares but creepy ambience and Brandon creepily lurking around his next victim. The movie really nails the horror atmosphere when it needs to, every single shot of the farm with grey skies looked creepy as hell. Then of course there’s all the blood and gore, which for its budget it doesn’t have ANY right to be this well done. The jaw scene isn’t gonna leave my head anytime soon.

The Breyers were trying to have a baby without success when Brandon landed in their lives, leading Ma Breyer to love him and defend him like a real mother should, but it also tragically leads to her being blind to any possibility of its son doing anything wrong. Pa Breyer is also quite tolerant for a good portion of the movie, albeit definitely understanding what’s wrong with Brandon before anyone else does. So the parents are acting wrongfully because plot, but because of their characters.

Brandon’s actor performance as this superpowerful evil kid is nothing short of fantastic. He can switch from sympathetic to terrifying in a whim and he doesn’t feel exaggerated or corny in any scene, he definitely can carry a whole movie where he’s both the monster and the protagonist.

Really digged the scene where Pa Breyer shoots him in the head and Brandon looks at him like he just hit him with a small rock. It didn’t hurt him, except on the inside of course. Then he lasers out the ever living hell of Pa’s face ala Injustice Superman, another bit I loved. Remember how Brandon’s mum was all about “you’re a blessing that dropped from the sky”? Well guess what, he kills her by dropping her from the sky, poetic!

In the ending we see Brandon going on a rampage accross the world, with the media calling him “BrightBurn”, which I was very happy to see that’s his supervillain name, it fits both the location and powers. And the end credits scene teaser more supervillains to come, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the future holds. Like my friend said when we finished watching it, “I want the 2!”

Its not a GREAT horror movie but its still very good and unique. 7.8/10

(Admittedly, watching BrightBurn and finishing The Boys on the same day really gave me a weird urge to shave my hair and wear buiness suits. Uh)

[dougbeamer]

Brightburn - Movie Review *Spoilers*

I saw this movie almost a month ago. I tried doing a video review for it several weeks ago and idk...nothing stuck. What I wanted to say just felt like it could be the same as everyone else. I just don’t think I’m gonna add anything new to the consensus.

But then I got thinking about it again for some reason I felt a desire to talk about it again.

So! Let's start with the plot and what this movie is about.

Brightburn is a film that came out in May of 2019 and tells the story of a family Tori and Kyle Breyer trying to have a kid. By a miraculous miracle, a spaceship crashlands on their farm and they adopt the baby boy inside naming him, Brandon. Many years later the family begins experiencing weird things with their now 12-year-old child. He sleepwalks to the barn where the ship he crashed landed in mumbling a strange language and trying to get inside. 

Eventually, Brandon Breyer’s powers take effect and he starts using them to kill people rather than saving people. Brandon Breyer’s is on the full path to becoming a supervillain.

With the plot, in a nutshell, I can tell you there isn’t much more to it than that. If there is anything that I don’t like when making my reviews is explaining the plot. I know I need to in order to give everyone a heads up of what I am talking about but I never seem to talk about the plot specifically enough. I never actually describe it well. My store manager had an opportunity to see this film and said it pretty simply. “It’s like Superman meets Annabell”

While I never have seen Annabell it seems like an apt description. Annabell seems like a small film in scale and terrorizes folks who come close to it. The stakes are personal, intense and not much beyond what you are given. Of course, Superman is the spot on the comparison you can give because this film screams, “WE ARE SHOWING WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF SUPERMAN WENT EVIL!” as a concept piece.

Every time I think about this film the less I like about it. 

I know there are some people out there that probably L-O-V-E this film and can’t wait to see what is next in this obvious start to a twisted franchise. 

This film is basic. Very basic. Nothing more to it than a kid coming to his own with superpowers with his parents in denial of what he is capable of. The father is less in denial than the mother is who refuses to think her child is capable of such things.

At the beginning of this film, I actually loved it. The took just enough time to create the conflict between these two that they wanted a child. Just then their house is rocked by an earthquake and they proceed to check it out. It was mysterious, it was solid. 

The rest of the film...not so much. 

When I watch a film I lookout for a few things. One of them being dialogue, moments to establish the relationships as true, real and tangible, stakes that make sense no matter how much it derails the people involved, and above all else how the film constructs this. Bring it all together with enough pomp and circumstance to say we are functional.

To me, this movie is barely functional.

Dialogue is stiff. When people talk to one another it's so short and to the point that it feels like there is more than can be said. This may not be a legitimate critique but I do feel like the technique of talking is wasted here.

There was a scene where after Brandon crushed a girl's hand and the following scene the parents were all talking in the principal's office. The mother of the daughter was clearly upset and rightfully so. She was spouting this and that, “he should go to jail” and other justifiable remarks. Until...she talks about Brandon's real mother and calls her an inbred psycho. This obviously crosses a line as Tori simply states that if trash-talking a 12-year-old child helps erica sleep better at night maybe she is the one that needs help. After that, the scene wraps up and it's over. It's not without consequence, of course, but I feel that the scene was stunted with a lot of missed opportunities with dialogue. Instead of Erica overstepping her bounds and Tori putting her in her place within seconds of the scene ending I felt that should have been the biggest conflict in the scene. A longer more emotionally driven scene. 

Granted I know the script has been flipped and instead of Brandon being the good guy he's bad. The parents are sticking up for him wrongfully but are on the side of good and Erica is in the middle. The scene conveys mixed emotions that I feel no one is good, no one really knows what to say or do. Brandon is not arrested, he is suspended and will have therapy there afterward and one simple insult closes this off and they move onto the next subject. With the knowledge of the looming fate, Erica will endure.  I feel the scene should have been at least a few minutes longer where we are given a chance to really understand where other people are coming from. By this point, we know where Kyle and Teri are coming from but not Erica. She is actually smack dab in the middle of a situation she has to immediately respond to. Before that, she only was apart of Brandon’s birthday and saw him throw a temper-tantrum where the electronics around him went out. No speaking lines and that may be enough for her to call Brandon a psycho but allow me to point out...

There is an entire bit of backstory faded out to the prolonged stare Teri was making with her son Brandon. A lot of dialogue was muffled out do to her zoning out. They only time she snaps out of it is when insults are being thrown out towards Brandon and questions of who his real mother is. 

That entire scene should have been insightful! Erica could still stay as the emotional mother who just hears and sees the aftermath of her daughter's hand crushed but we could have known at some point where she stood with the family, what kind of friends they were and some back history. Cause we just found out in that very moment more than just the family knows about Brandon’s adoption. That there in of itself leaves me to believe a lot has to be assumed in order to understand where everyone is coming from.

My mind goes to the phrase Expectations vs Reality. When I think about this movie there were a lot of expectations and when the reality hit we basically see what could have been opposed to what we got. Brightburn had a criticism that its full potential was not realized.

This is where I have to disagree. 

Yes, I have to disagree. 

We have had over 10 years of great storytelling and bad storytelling at our expense thanks to Marvel, DC, various TV shows throughout the last decade. We know exactly what we want in these types of films. So when we get a what-if concept there are only a few ways we can go with it.

Our expectations are seeing a complex take on the tale of Superman becoming evil and the reality is we see a kid who is being manipulated by a ship speaking an evil language. We don’t really see where the kid is coming from except for getting upset that he is different and was lied to for 12 years.

The reality is this is probably the best way to convey a what-if piece. Keep it Simple. Keep it just as grounded as it is right now. My biggest gripe is how everyone talks to one another. How the situations play out are almost perfect to convey such an excellent concept. 

So sticking up for this film in this regard, it did exactly what it was setting out to do. Become a concept piece that would show the makings of a villain that was based on one of the most powerful superheroes we will ever know. In fictional terms of course.

The fact that it didn’t go in any direction we were really hoping it to is not a bad thing though. Sure maybe we could have seen the makings of a villain rise up and maybe the parents are in on it. Maybe the mother takes Brandon under her wing and teaches him to channel his evil tendencies towards people that deserve it much like dexter. Instead, Patricide and Matricide are inflicted, Uncles and Aunts are killed, and next-door neighbors are terrified in cliche fashion before they are horribly killed.

What really doesn’t make this film work for me is not really buying into the fact that this kid who seems well to do, not a single psychopathic bone in his body is suddenly turned when the spaceship he crashed landed in, activates.

The film does not do a good job giving us anything that could give us a clue into Brandon’s head. Is he being controlled? Is he acting out of rage? Well, the answer to that is yes and yes. But when? When are those moments? Because one scene he is going back to the girl (the one whos wrist was broken) and tells her that she is the ONLY person who knows how special he is.

One scene before it or after it I can’t remember which...shows him going into a rage as soon as he figures out what the alien message is saying to him. So he either had a small influence then took what he could and left the rest. Or he gets small doses of this throughout the time he first encountered it. Its really unclear.

One big thing is how people write off each weird happenstance throughout the story of the film. The father, Kyle believes Brandon got in and killed some chickens late at night. The best excuse Tori has is that a wolf opened up a locked door and killed some chickens. 

I mean, the reasonings of what to talk about and what not to talk about is out of this world.

The parents find Brandon's secret stash of naked women that soon turn more grizzly where there are pictures of surgical diagrams and graphic photos of organs. Tori exclaims, “Maybe we should have the talk”

In the next scene, they go on a camping trip and the father and son have an awkward conversation about this. But the only thing mentioned was sexual urges and nothing more. DUDE, you found diagrams and organs! That is much more specific than showing off a desirable swimsuit model! TALK ABOUT THAT! This stuff gets pretty redundant after a while. You get it. Dialogue doesn’t work, the scenes and situations mentioned don’t add up when they need to talk about more important things, the relationship between the mother and father work but not with the kid, sadly. 

I feel this movie did deliver upon its potential I just feel it could have been written better. I could care less that it was a cliche horror murder movie. Give me something basic and grow from there. You could have had the characters a lot smarter, capable, flesh out the scenes better and you would have had one solid film on your hands. 

Perhaps I don’t have anything better to say than anyone else but this movie came close to frustrating me on how it presented itself.

The ending sparked more curiosity and obvious means to a sequel that I feel should have been introduced in the middle of the film. But, hey, that's just my expectations talking. 

I know there are some out there that love the film. One who can justify actions and means of what really could have been going down. But I am a very literal person so if it ain't shown to me I am not going to assume so much happened in-between scenes. I am not a psychic so I don’t know what one is thinking and if you keep a kid quiet I won’t know where he is coming from. 

That is exactly what this film did. It alienated me. Me no likey.

**/***** (2 out of 5)

[horsesarecreatures]

101 Reasons Why Zenyatta is a Legend

1. She is the first horse to win two different Breeder’s Cup races (The Breeder’s Cup Classic and The Breeder’s Cup Ladies’ Classic).

2. She had one of the most dramatic running styles of all time. She never failed to start slowly and she never failed to finish powerfully.

3. She is the first and only female horse to win the Breeder’s Cup Classic, the most important horse race in the United States.

4. She won a total of $7,304,580, despite not being raced until she was almost 4

5. She won 19 consecutive races in a row.

6. She is the first horse to win the William H. May Award.

7. She broke the all-time North American record for Grade 1 victories by a mare.

8. She tied the all-time North American record for consecutive victories without defeat.

9. Tied the all-time North American record with 16 consecutive victories in unrestricted races (held by Citation and Cigar).

10. She is the top Breeder’s Cup earner ($4,680,000).

11. On August 7, 2010, Zenyatta broke the world record set by Rock of Gibraltar for consecutive Grade/Group I victories

12. Zenyatta surpassed Tiznow, John Henry, and Alysheba in all-time North American earnings (male or female).

13. Hall of Fame trainer Bob Baffert of triple crown winners American Pharoah and Justify said Zenyatta beating his horses in the 2009 Breeder’s Cup Classic “...was the only time in horse racing that I didn’t mind getting beat in a race. If they don’t reward her with horse of the year, it would be a travesty. Zenyatta made the Breeders’ Cup. And the way she won! I’ve never seen a crowd so captivated. It felt like a horse winning the third leg of the Triple Crown.”

14. She was purchased for only $60,000.

15. She won a total of four Eclipse Awards.

16. She was named Horse of the Year in 2010, getting in on the first ballot.

17. Her Breeders' Cup Ladies' Classic was the second-fastest in Breeders Cup history at 1:46.85 for 1⅛ miles.

18. Zenyatta set speed records in the 2008 El Encino Stakes (1:40:61) and the 2008 Lady's Secret Stakes (1:40:30).

19. She is the first mare to win Vanity International Handicap, Clement L. Hirsch Stakes, and the Lady's Secret Stakes for 3 consecutive years.

20. Zenyatta holds both the speed record and record for most wins in the Lady's Secret Stakes. Her connections Ann & Jerry Moss, John Shirreffs, and Mike Smith hold records for most wins (four) by an owner, trainer, and jockey respectively.

21. She was named by Oprah Winfrey to the 2010 “O Power List” in O Magazine.

22. Zenyatta was selected three years in a row (2008–2010) for NTRA's Moment of the Year Award, for her 2008 Ladies' Classic victory, historic 2009 Breeders' Cup Classic victory, and narrow defeat in the 2010 Breeders' Cup Classic.

23. On May 10, 2011, Zenyatta's story kicked off the "Inspire" segment of the 2011 Professional Business Women of California (PBWC) Conference.  This organization was founded by California Congresswoman Jackie Speier. Ann Moss, Dr. Dawn Hunkin, and Dottie Ingordo-Shirreffs and several thousand people attended as Zenyatta was presented with a PBWC Honorary Membership.

24. Zenyatta was the first horse to receive an Honorary Membership to the San Pedro Assistance League. Her photo proudly hangs in their official conference room.

25. According to her jockey Mike Smith, she is the greatest horse of the decade.

26. Her career spanned 4 years and she retired sound as ever.

27. She never suffered a major injury.

28. She has a personality like no other. Her funky pre-race dances entertained thousands.

29. She was a hero to people in times of economic hardships.

30. Her trainer John Sheriffs said, “I’ve been around horses for 50 years, and I’ve never seen a Thoroughbred like Zenyatta. She was that special that I wanted everyone who wanted to meet her personally to be able to do it. There was something about Zenyatta that made you feel good.”

31. At 17.2 hh, the starting gate could barely contain her massive frame.

32. She clocked the second-fastest time for 1 1/8 miles in Breeders’ Cup history when she blazed that distance in 1:46.85 in the Ladies’ Classic in 2008.

33. Zenyatta was inducted into the National Museum of Racing's Hall of Fame in 2016.

34. The only race she ever “lost” was her second Breeder’s Cup Classic, where she came in second place, only inches behind Blame, who she had beaten before.

35. She was born on April Fool’s day.

36. She likes beer, preferably stout Guinness.

37. ESPN studied the length of her stride and concluded that it was a whopping 26 feet. For comparison, the average thoroughbred stride is 20 feet and Secretariat’s was 24 feet 11 inches.

38. She was chosen to promote The Dodgers in 2010 and had her very own billboard in Los Angeles.

39. At Del Mar, they use the Trakkus system for clocking how fast a horse is running during a race. When Z won the Clement Hirsch in 2009, they clocked her "closing down the stretch" at 40+ mph.

40. She has beaten every single one of the 135+ horses that have raced against her (yes, this includes Blame).

41. Her heart is the size of a volleyball.

42. While often criticized for primarily running on synthetic surfaces, she started training on dirt and it is what she was most comfortable with.

43. Even though she has broken record after record, people still don’t know how fast she truly is because she always came from the back of the pack and swung all the way to the outside to avoid traffic before winning at the last moment. As her jockey Mike Smith said, she has “another gear.”

44. She loves foals as much as she loves people. Todd Claunch said, “She loves foals more than just about any mare I've ever been around. When she's outside, all the other foals just come up to her, not just her own.… You can even see her going through the thought process of teaching them things."

45. Zenyatta set speed records in the 2008 El Encino Stakes (1:40:61) and the 2008 Lady's Secret Stakes (1:40:30).

46. She’s photogenic and knows how to pose for photos.

47. Her talent and personality are unmatchable. When asked, “How does Zenyatta compare to the other horses you've been on who won these championship races?," Mike Smith replied “She means more to me than all those.”

48. She lived in Hollywood like the celebrity she is.

49. She can dance. Her moves were taught to her by Mike Smith as a positive way to relieve her endless energy.

50. She feeds of the crowd’s energy.

51. Mike Smith said, “I think she could arguably go down as one of the greatest, if not the greatest horse of all time." And Mike smith’s ridden a lot of champions.

52. She kicked up so much dirt that Mike Smith once had to change goggles six times during a race.

53. Over a thousand people came to her retirement ceremony, despite below freezing temperatures.

54. She has her own horse race named after her (The Zenyatta Stakes).

55. She was smart enough to control her own energy and exert during the most important part of the race.

56. Her trainer was John Sheriffs, who is known for his kind and patient approach.

57. When she was at Hollywood park she lived on a street named after her.

58. The Dodgers had her on a billboard, with the tagline “This is My Town.”

59. She has her own song written by Liza G. Fly.

60. She blurs the line between a starlet and a horse,

61. She once bowed when the track announcer called her name.

62. Zenyatta’s owners Anne and Jerry Moss love her so much that they almost moved her into their Bel-Air home.

63. A sandwich was named after her at trainer John Sheriff’s favorite coffee shop.

64. She has multiple books written about her.

65. She had her own 60 minutes episode titles “Another Look at Zenyatta.”

66. Her first son, Cozmic One, is the 2018 Retired racehorse Project ambassador.

67. She made “Zenyatta” a word that Urban Dictionary defines as “To meet unrealistic expectations, do things that shouldn't be done, defy all logic, leave observers with a loss for ways to describe awesomeness and be perfect.”

68. She sparked a girl power movement in horse racing.

69. Her fans invented the term “hooves crossed.”

70. She has a trusting soul and a zen-like calm.

71. On June 27, 2009, Zenyatta won the Grade 1 Vanity Handicap at Hollywood Park for the second straight year. She carried 129 lbs, spotting her rivals from 13 to 18 pounds, and became the first horse to win under such a weight assignment since 1977.

72. Her rivalry with Rachel Alexandra was the most intense one of recent horse racing history.

73. The second time she ran in the Breeder’s Cup Classic, its TV ratings were triple what they were in 2009.

74. A single halter of hers once sold for $6,600.

75. Jonathan Bush, nephew of George W. Bush, named his luxury catamaran after her.

76. She is in the Arcadia Historical Society Walk of Champions.

77. Unlike most racehorses, Zenyatta did not jog or gallop to warm up before a race. Instead, regular pilot Mike Smith would let her stand and look over the crowd and her competition. He figured she did enough stretching doing her little dance.

78. Zenyatta retired as the leading money winner among North American-based fillies and mares

79. For three straight years, one of Zenyatta's races was named the National Thoroughbred Racing Association's “Moment of the Year.” The races selected for this honor were her victory in the 2008 Breeders' Cup Ladies' Classic (USA-I), her victory in the 2009 Breeders' Cup Classic (USA-I) and her narrow defeat in the 2010 Breeders' Cup Classic (USA-I).

80. A statue of Zenyatta was unveiled at Santa Anita in 2012, joining the statues of Seabiscuit and John Henry in the Paddock Gardens area near the main grandstand. It took over two years to build.

81. Zenyatta is an honorary member of the San Pedro Assistance League.

82. She stares down anyone who approaches her.

83. The Run the Bluegrass half-marathon in Lexington honors a different Thoroughbred each year, and Zenyatta was the honoree for the 2014 edition.

84. She has her own Breyer model.

85. Her whole pedigree is pretty cool and rare for a top thoroughbred.

86. She is not related to Northern Dancer or Seattle Slew, unlike the majority of thoroughbreds who sometimes feature these horses in their pedigrees multiple times, so she’s not intensely inbred.

87. She outpaces her competitors even in fundraising.

88. Trevor Denman screaming, "If she wins this, she'll be a superhorse" and "This is un-ba-lievable !!" after Zenyatta won the 2009 Breeder’s Cup Classic.

89. She has raised thousands of dollars for various charities, particularly Canter, which helps place ottbs in forever homes. Thanks to her, it has expanded to several locations in the United States.

90. Even though Blame officially won the 2010 BBC, Zenyatta still pulled herself ahead of him after the wire.

91. Thousands bet on her, even when they only got a 10 cent profit off of two dollars.

92. Zenyatta was an inspiration like no other. One school teacher from Santa Barbara who was in a wheelchair when she first met Zenyatta decided to try and walk afterwards, and she did.

93. Kari Bussel from Tennessee once said, “I am terminally ill and my dying wish was to touch her once. I know in my heart she is the reason I am still alive and have thus far defied the odds and what the doctors told me. She inspired me never to give up. I have refused to go anywhere until her story was finished."  

94. Although she did not retire undefeated, Zenyatta proved in the end that perfection is not always measured in numbers.

95. She proved that mares can be just or even more profitable as racehorses than as broodmares.

96. She started a new era of filly-dominated horse racing. After her, other great fillies like Rachel Alexandra, Black Caviar, Goldikova, and Havre de Grace started dominating the sport as well.

97. She has over 468,000 followers on Facebook.

98. For two years in a row, she finished second in voting for the Associated Press Female Athlete of the Year, narrowly beaten by Serena Williams and Lindsey Vonn.

99. Sports Illustrated rated Zenyatta as number 1 female horse of all time.

100. She helped revive the struggling racehorse industry on the West coast.

101. She turned the sport of kings into the sport of queens.

[cinemasquall-blog]

Brightburn (2019)

Brightburn's concept is a breath of fresh air among the bombardment of formulaic superhero movie after superhero movie that's been found in theaters over the past 10 years.  What if a superman like being that fell from space and who was taken in and raised by an unassuming couple, gave into their most violent urges rather than fighting for the righteous causes of justice and hope?  Unfortunately, Brightburn squanders the potential of being an interesting take on aspects of the superhero genre we have not yet seen, and turns it into a senselessly violent and empty experience.

Elizabeth Banks and David Denman star as Tori and Kyle Breyer, the unsuspecting couple whose prayers of conceiving a child together have gone unanswered. Their prayers are seemingly answered one evening when a crash in the woods close to their residence is revealed to be some sort of alien aircraft with a child inside.  We're shown home video footage of a loving family - the boy found in the woods is now named Brandon, and his father wants him to grow up to be a farmer just like him.  This footage serves as a tired method of character development and covering events between the discovery of Brandon and when the rest of the movie takes place.

Flash forward 10 years and we find Brandon not paying attention in class, instead his attention is consumed by scribbling what looks like a crucified frog in his notebook.  His teacher, as they often do in the most telegraphed moments, notices he is not paying attention and calls on him, asking what the difference between bees and wasps are.  Brandon correctly answers her query, stating that bees are pollinators while wasps are predators, unsatisfied, he takes his answer a step further by adding that certain species of wasps are unable to build nests so they must attack and steal nests from other winged creatures.  This trite allusion, that only the most pseudo of intellectuals would find satiating, is the only hint the film ever lends to its most interesting question; where does Brandon come from and what might his motives be? 

Brightburn's script is a mind-numbing exercise in platitudes and fraught symbolism.  Tori and Kyle Breyer's most notable character traits are that they rattle off cliches often reserved for jokes about cliches at an incessant rate, and they are both naive to an alarming degree.  Plot developments happen in a frustrating fashion and events struggle to achieve any sense of importance. For instance, in the films only (albeit unintentional) comical moment, Brandon discovers he has super strength, and can't be harmed by things that would cause catastrophic injury to others while doing his afternoon chores.

The plot, script, and lack of any meaningful inspection of the ideas and concepts that are likely to have been the draw for audiences to see Brightburn would normally combine to make a bad film.  But Brightburn is more than just a bad film, it is a deeply troubling film.  The ability to tastefully depict violence in film is earned through smart story-telling, sympathetic characters, or a wacky over-the-top tone that borders on comical. Brightburn does none of these things, yet still unleashes a barrage of gruesome scene after gruesome scene.  In all of these scenes the violence is carried out by Brandon, a child, and the carnage left behind is comprised of only innocent victims.  I can only imagine it was the filmmakers hopes that film-goers would excuse such depraved displays and still feel compassion for Brandon, chalking up his actions as being a byproduct of the emotional whirlwind that is puberty and the revelation that he is from another planet.  While this explanation altogether is very weak on its own, it escaped the filmmakers that they themselves had blocked this flimsy route to compassion from being reached when they imbued Brandon's character with dangerous traits of toxic masculinity and beliefs that are shared with violent hate groups.  

It's hard to pinpoint redeemable qualities when the entire film is burdened with so many greatly defined flaws.  The few bright spots I can note are David Denman, Jackson A. Dunn, and Matt Jones performances. Jackson A. Dunn is effective with his performance of Brandon, which doesn't require much since the character shows minimal emotion throughout the entire film.  David Denman tries his hardest to bring some life to his character, Kyle Breyer, even with the script having him being nothing more than the culmination of a thousand awkward dad conversations. Matt Jones is great in his all-too-short five minutes of screen time as Brandon's uncle, Noah, who sees right through Brandon's facade of being an innocent pre-teen.

I wish I could end this review by simply saying Brightburn's lazy character archetypes, fumblingly empty script, and failure to follow up on any of its most intriguing ideas are the reasons why it fails so miserably.  But that doesn't feel like enough.  Today I planned on carrying out my first ever double feature at a cinema, and to come home and publish reviews for both.  I was excited, with the cinema as my oyster and this site my sword. But what should have been a brisk 90 minute film shattered this dream.  Brightburn ruined these plans when it assaulted my sensibilities, trying to pass garbage that should only be found in the minds of incels and alt-right sympathizers as a quality film.  And for that it can fuck right off.

Score: D-

[televinita]

A True Story

When I was a little kid, I tried to watch Dumbo at my grandparents’ house, but I started crying so hard when they separate him from his mother that I wore myself out and fell asleep. No amount of my parents telling me it had a happy ending when I woke up could convince me to finish watching it, so I never did. I'm bringing this up because last night, I thought Unicorn Store would be a pleasant little thing to help me relax before bed. Twelve minutes from the end, having been crying off and on for roughly the past 30 minutes of the film and pausing it multiple times to get myself under control, it set me off so hard I began to think history might repeat itself.

It’s not even dark or depressing! I just identified with Kit so, so (too) much.

This film, for all its fantastical whimsy and legit magic, is SUCH A SHOT TO THE HEART of what it feels like to stumble out of college and back to your parents' house with no idea what to do next. How to be a grown-up. What to make of boys. (or are they men now? are you old enough to interact with Men on a personal level?) Especially when you still cling to your childhood loves that the world has told you to put away.

The part where she bags up all her old things?? I did that with my Breyers/plush animals/My Little Ponies in a similar fit of anger and heartbreak (of course they eventually made it back out, which at this point in the film I could only hope would be paralleled by her getting her unicorn at the end). Sobbing to her parents that she knows she’s a disappointment (even though they don’t actually think that)? Done it. The longing for the unconditional love of a pet? I had one, but I haven’t for six years and the visceral ache is ever-present, especially since I had her when I had no IRL friends.

The only thing I didn’t totally love was the end*, but I can see why they did that, so I don’t think it takes away from the film. (warning: talk of the ending below)

*And by that I mean I very definitely had an outraged reaction of “WHAT IS THIS ONE UNICORN-STYLE NONSENSE. What? No! Personal happiness doesn’t mean you turn away a friggin’ unicorn!! Do you see your tears right now? That’s a sign this is not right and not okay! That other sad lady can wait her gosh-darn turn. (also WHAT DUDE WOULD NOT INSIST YOU KEEP A UNICORN. Throw that whole man away.)”

But this, too, reminded me of something in my life. Something I can’t directly remember because my brain is protecting me and I’m going to let it, but where I cried my heart out and then consigned it to the past even though I still wanted it. And that's why even though this is a stupid-ass decision, I cannot elect to ignore it because I understand that for some reason that she has to, even though I'm pretty sure that reason is just SELF SABOTAGE AND UNCONSCIOUS SELF-HARM SOLD AS ALTRUISM.

(Like, part of my heart loves that she is doing what’s best for the unicorn, if she doesn’t need him, but I remain uncomfortable with the idea that grown-ups find true happiness comes from within and not Things. Plus, if you didn’t click my link up there, it’s a picture book about a princess who grows up spending time with a unicorn, but stops paying attention to it after she falls in love with a prince -- see if you can catch the annoying similarities here implying that first comes the horse-crazy stage, then comes romance. Although I guess at least this unicorn LIVES.)

[wonderlustlucas]

eggs - lee taeyong

⇢ prompt Breakfast does not go to the stomach, it goes to the heart. ⇢ pairing taeyong x female reader ⇢ word count 3.1k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none unless fluff gives u whiplash :D ⇢ summary “Taeyong fluff. basically like they aren’t a couple yet but they know they both like each other so they’re all cutesy and shit :) plot doesn’t really matter tbh as long as it’s some cute ass fluff”—request ⇢ a/n take this fluffy shit and shove it up ur ass for optimum benefit

“Noona, will you please make us breakfast?” You are one hundred percent going to kill him.

“Ten, call me that again and the only thing I will cook is your arms and legs. I just bought cereal and milk, so leave me alone,” you groan like a branch under the weight of snow, rolling away from the brightness of the sun filtering through the window and swinging a leg out from beneath the covers to dangle off the bed. “No, you finished the cereal Thursday and never told me to pick up more, plus there’s no milk left,” Ten retorts, voice muffled behind the white door and at the sound of his—your—friends laughing, you feel like screaming. “Then go out and buy some more!”

“___, there’s like fifty eggs in the fridge, plus it’s past twelve and loverboy is starving, don’t you want to cook for T—“

“Okay, shut up!” You shout, accepting defeat rather than embarrassment and whipping the blankets away with an annoyed sigh. Picking a crumpled tee shirt from the floor, you pull it over your head with a certain irritation and make way for the door, swinging it open and glaring coldly at the grinning boy despite the heat growing on your cheeks like sunburn. “I hope you rot in Hell,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest and stomping past him.

In a weak attempt to move past your guests as quietly as possible, you direct your attention to the floor and scurry through the living room quiet as a mouse, embarrassingly aware of loverboy’s—as Ten called him—presence. “Morning, ___.”

Caught. “Good morning,” you sigh, finally averting your gaze to look at the trio and offering a feeble wave. Maybe if you just pretend that he isn’t here, you can survive the day. However, as soon as your eyes land on Lee Taeyong and all his glory, hot rosiness is already burning its way up your neck quicker than before and settling on the apples of your cheeks. Curse you, you want to say, mouth sour and stare fixated on the brunette for a heartbeat too long until he smiles and you embarrassingly hurry on to the kitchen.

If it’s not for the incessant growling of your stomach, you truly contemplate opening the refrigerator door just to slam it back on your head; however, even though you would never admit it, cooking breakfast for Taeyong remains to be your first and foremost priority on this lovely afternoon. And so, no matter how much you don’t want to, you smack a cast-iron pan loudly on the stove and twist on the gas, pausing to count with your fingers how many eggs you’ll need before eventually just grabbing the whole carton.

You see, developing a crush on one of Ten’s friends was never part of the plan. To be entirely honest, you had laid in bed the night Ten first moved in, tucked delightfully in your duvets wondering how in the name of God you were going to survive just a week without falling for him. However, as time went on, Ten’s fiery attitude and the fact that it seemed as if his friend Johnny was the one who in fact moved in based on the amount of time he spent in your shared apartment made it quite painless to get over the brief obsession in your newest flatmate.

And while Ten does have a mentality spicier than sriracha, you could not find it in yourself to complain when he brought not one but three friends over two months into moving in. By that time, you were fairly close to Johnny, considering he was knocking on the door almost every day (at this point, you had already settled on the idea that the two were one hundred and fifty percent dating, although you would never ask), but had zero ideas that Ten even had other friends, let alone met them.

And to be quite frank, you did not expect another two attractive men to enter your life. Jung Jaehyun, quite possibly the most angelic human you have ever met and Lee Taeyong, the greatest threat to your existence.

Perhaps you would not have fallen so quickly if it was not for the fact Ten was adamant on having the three over every fucking day. The first time you met was a terrifying case of embarrassment; you had been sleeping in when you woke to quite possibly the loudest noise to ever enter your eardrums. And so, with speed faster than light, you fled from bed with nothing but measly undergarments to see what sort of Satanic ritual Ten was pulling, only to find two strangers grimacing at an enormous box now flat on the floor.

It was painfully awkward, from the moment they noticed your ghastly presence in the doorway, to the realization they just dropped the new television Ten just bought, and finally to the fact you were practically naked in front of them. Without even a glance to their faces and with a noise akin to a frightened mouse caught in a trap you spun back behind the door, slammed it closed, and dove back into bed, shivering under the covers and planning your plan of survival that included never leaving the one hundred and twenty-seven square feet of your bedroom.

However, five hours later your stomach had a mind of its own.

6:07 PM - To Ten: i will literally do absolutely anything u want ever in ur life if u bring me cereal

6:07 PM - From Ten: No shot

6:07 PM - To Ten: oh my god ten please

6:08 PM - From Ten: I think my friends need an apology for seeing ur titties this morning🤧

6:08 PM - To Ten: please dont do this to me im so hungry i will literally do anything

6:08 PM - From Ten: Bj?

6:08 PM - To Ten: yes an infinite everyday

6:08 PM - From Ten: hmmmm

6:09 PM - From Ten: nah

6:09 PM - From Ten: come get food urself

With an infuriated, muffled scream into the downy pillow, you hurl your phone to the mattress before leaning up and mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of teasing from your sinister flatmate. Sighing obnoxiously as you exit your bedroom for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, absolutely nothing in the entire fucking universe could have prepared you enough for the unquestionably perfectly crafted specimen of Lee Taeyong.

Upon first glance, you barely noticed his figure hidden in the corner of the room, simply a monochrome silhouette concealed in the darkness. It was not until the hues flashing from the television lit up the dark space with brightly colored shades from a commercial did he come into view, seated on the farthest side of the sofa. He was like a single brilliant star on a sky of perfect midnight velvet, a star whose gravity stole the air from your lungs and left you breathless in the doorway upon first glance.

He was by far the most alluring human you have ever seen.

“Hey ___!” Ten suddenly shouted, cutting your train—or lack thereof—of thought into shreds and replacing it with your previous hatred. “Die,” was all you said, earning a chuckle from someone, although you could not seem to care to find out who and instead continued for the kitchen.

“How’s your day been?” He continued, yelling from the other room and you contemplated whacking the side of his head with a cast-iron pan. “Don’t talk to me,” you shouted back while rummaging through the refrigerator, only to pull out a container of half empty white rice left over two days prior and a gallon of Breyers Extra Creamy Vanilla from the freezer.

“Are you grumpy because of what happened this morning?” He singsongs, followed by just leave her alone from an unknown voice as you grab two spoons and slam the drawer close. He was truly pushing your buttons. Ice cream, rice, and spoons in hand you made way for the living room, paused midway, and mercilessly pegged one of the metal spoons at Ten.

It unexpectedly hit him square in the forehead, creating a chorus of oohs from the others and you beamed. “Don’t forget who owns this apartment, Chittaphon,” you sneered, gracing his friends with a beaming smile before spinning on your heels and marching back into your bedroom.

Needless to say, Ten found it in himself to never tread that deep into your patience again and even apologized the next morning. However, the image stuck in your brain of whoever sat in the corner of the living room could not go without questioning.

“Hey, who was over last night, by the way?” You asked as Ten took a seat on the couch beside you, flicking between different television channels. “Taeyong and Jaehyun.”

“Which one had the pink hair?”

Ten huffed, throwing in the towel when it came to choosing an adequate channel, “Taeyong, why?”

You shrugged, “Nothing.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not dumb, c’mon. You think he’s cute?” More than cute.

“I only saw him for like, a millisecond,” you sniffed, waving him off and returning to your assignment. “Good news. They’re coming over again tonight!”

You groaned, throwing your head back onto the plush cushion and kneading your eyes with your knuckles. “I didn’t pick up enough groceries to feed a whole soccer team,” you sighed, lolling your head over to blink at him. “We have eggs?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Tae will help you.”

And only after a proper introduction when Johnny, Jaehyun, and Taeyong arrived an hour later, you found yourself in the talons of a trap designed to drag you down into the depths of drool-worthy dreams and endless nights of “being in your bag.”

When it came time to cook a meal for the new clan you found ravaging your apartment, it took no less than half a minute for the cotton candy haired art-major (something you found out about him during some unacceptably adorable small talk) to jump up from his spot on the loveseat to aid you in any way possible.

“You like cooking?” He asked as you passed him another egg to be whisked, and you laughed heartily. “No, I just have to so I don’t blow all my money on takeout,” you explained, shrugged, and then followed with, “well, I don’t know. If I had time to cook out of enjoyment rather than survival, I would probably like it.”

“You should, it can be really relaxing,” he said, voice luxurious velvet as he poured the whisked eggs into the hot pan. “I don’t really know any recipes,” you shrugged, watching with quiet admiration as he went through what minimal spices you had while simultaneously folding the eggs into what would eventually be an omelet.

“Oh! I’ll have to show some you one day, then,” Taeyong grinned, and no matter how hard you tried you could not fight the rosy blush warming your features.

It was at this moment you realized you were royally fucked. There was absolutely no way of getting out of this one, you told yourself, and it was a constant reminder nearly every day when him, Johnny, and Jaehyun made their entrance. It was especially obvious on days he came over after class, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and revealing an inch too much skin that made your insides crawl, or the alone time you shared when he would help you in the kitchen, when one day over the course of three months you realized it had gone from two strangers forced to feed a group of helpless college kids to a pair naturally creating meals together, including a handful too many hip bumps, tickles, and any other type of physical touching to be categorized as just friends.

“No way,” you blew Ten off one morning when he asked if you thought you would ever date Taeyong, “he doesn’t like me like that.”

When all he did was roll his eyes, some part of you truly did drop with disappointment. For if he had said, “You should hear how he talks about you,” or, “You really are a dumb bitch,” then maybe you would have had some hope. But his lack of response confirmed your thoughts: Taeyong was an unattainable love.

Four months later, you and your now crimson haired friend dragged an absolutely wasted beyond repair Ten into his bedroom, flung him onto his mattress, removed his shoes, and patted him a good night.

“Sorry you had to deal with him,” you frowned, making way for the tiny kitchen and offering him a water in which he graciously took. Lord knows, if you had known he was coming, you would have been more prepared. And yet there you were, in nothing but an oversized tee shirt in front of the man who held all the stars in his irises and the very being of you in his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taeyong smiled, clicked his tongue after taking a sip of water, “either way, I got to see my gi—you.”

Realizing his miniscule slip-up, Taeyong’s eyes grew the size of saucers, as did yours. My girl? Was that what he was going to say? You gulped, windpipe suddenly dryer than any desert on Earth, heart bumping frantically in your chest because holy shit, were you to blow it off or act on it?

Taeyong cleared his throat, and you did the same, an awkward tension suddenly filling the room thick like syrup and you were suffocating. “Anyway, I’m gonna head home. G’night, ___,” said Taeyong, offering a weak pat to your cheek. You watched him in silence as he left, and as soon as the door shut behind him the world came crashing down, the walls suddenly seemed to shrink and you hopped off the barstool in order to save yourself and sped to your bedroom in a rush of excitement and undeniable shock.

Only two days later you saw him again, a mini celebration in your apartment for the end of the semester with a bit too much soju involved. You found yourself curled into his side as the antics settled down further into the night, however alcohol still had your nerves on fire and you were hyperaware of Taeyong’s hand on what was exposed of your waist where your shirt had ridden up, long fingers drawing random patterns onto the bare skin and you could not breathe.

“___,” he said, you turned from the loud Raymour & Flanigan commercial blaring from the television to look at him, eyes wide and honest and his heart lurched. He suddenly could not find it in himself anymore to ask if he could stay the night and instead languidly studied your pretty features, face hovering closely above your own so you could feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks and he did not know what to do.

“Taeyong!”

Ten shouted and the two of you jerked back, the serene moment suddenly popped like a bubble and you wanted to scream at him for ruining the possibilities.

The exchange between Taeyong and Ten turned to nothing but marbles in your ears, the idea of kissing him much too loud and growing from a small mustard seed hidden within your brain to an enormous tree. Except now it was in bold font and flashing every color known to man because there was no way he was actually going to kiss you, right?

Fast forward nearly a month later and here you were, found in yet another treacherous predicament as the man of your dreams sat only feet away. The past twenty-seven days were the worst of your life, you tell yourself; for every time you close your eyes, all you can picture is all the diminutive moments shared with Taeyong since your almost-kiss, every insignificant touch, every drawn-out ogling, every unnecessary compliment that only increasing became worse because Ten told him that you liked him. And instead of bringing it up, too fearful to do so even though you are convinced he must like you back, you push it away, avoiding any possible interaction that will lead to your potential collapse.

And so, when a, “Hey, do you want any help?” erupts from just around the wall, you nearly drop an egg when every muscle in your body freezes because yes he’s here but no get away. “Um,” you sniff, glancing down at the dozen eggs and then back to the boy sporting hair the shade of oozy caramel, “sure.”

You go on in silence, continuously passing Taeyong an egg to be cracked and then throwing out the shells, and you are telling yourself oh, this isn’t too bad until he decides to break the relative silence, “I like you.” You blink, squint at the wall before moving around him to wash yoke from your hands, hearing the words from those damn kissable lips makes your legs burn and heart thump at a rate that definitely is not healthy. “I know,” you finally answer, voice clogged in the back of your throat so you continue, “I like you too.”

“I know,” says Taeyong once you look up at him and he bestows upon you a toothy grin.

“I’m glad that’s settled, then,” you laugh breathlessly, leaning into his side as he scrambles the eggs, cheek pressed against his bicep, “you’re bulking up, I like it.” Taeyong drops his head to look down and you glance up with a smile that cannot seem to leave your face. “Jaehyun said the same thing,” he grins, pulling his arm away so that you must pull away but, just as your lips start to pout, he pulls your body close and wraps his arms around your waist.

In a sudden surge of courage, you raise your hand to trail a finger down the razor-sharp edge of his jawline, something you have dreamed of doing for months and now that you are finally able to, you do not know whether you will ever be able to stop. “Wow,” you almost say, breathlessly infatuated by his presence, however, the sudden pressure of his lips upon yours steals your breath furthermore and suddenly everything is all him and you pull yourself closer, air hitching in your lungs, nerves fizzing with sparks, melding your mouth against his own as the anticipation of kissing him over the past months has reached its boiling point.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” Taeyong asks once you have pulled away, lips swollen red. “That’s the general plan, yes,” you laugh softly, planting a milder peck on the side of his mouth.

.

.

.

“Does anyone smell burning eggs?”

[laetro]

Casey Robin: Observing the World Firsthand

Illustrator and designer, Casey Robin, recons she will run out of time on this earth before running out of inspiration. She has not only illustrated for film, books, toys, and fashion but also teaches and curates gallery shows. Creator of the #MarchOfTheFairies Insta challenge. That art can enable better connect with our fellow humans and help set a new vision for the future is something Casey trusts in.

LA-based illustrator and designer, Casey Robin loves to draw fauns, cats, mermaids and adorable girls. Cal Arts CSSSA, Studio Art Centers International and The Illustration Academy at Ringling are only a few of the institutes she’s formally studied art and animation at. With an equally diverse clientele – Walt Disney, Animation Studios, Disney Publishing, Goldie Hawn, Breyer Horses, and Pinup Girl – Casey has explored various roles as an artist through her journey so far.

Styles: Organic, Digital, Illustrative, Flat, Realistic

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Q. What made you want to become an illustrator?

Casey Robin: When I was about two years old I had a hard time sleeping. Hoping to get a good night’s sleep, herself, my mom dumped heaps of crayons and paper and armfuls of picture books into my crib. I devoured them, then called out, “More colors! More books!” I’ve been in pursuit of illustration ever since..

Q. How do you define your style and what do you consider its distinct characteristics?

Casey Robin: An episode of Japanese Ninja Warrior provided my ethos: “Her secret weapon is cuteness.” While my style encompasses a wide range of looks, it is most often described as cute, pretty, whimsical, and other pleasant words. I design my art to feel like a hug because there are a lot of people out there who need a hug. There is also a more elegant side to my work, drawn from thoughtful observation of nature. I tend to favor simple forms and flowing linework over fussy detail. I keep my colors pure, airy, and vibrant.

Q. What is the process like when drawing from other mediums life films, books, toys, etc?

Casey Robin: I tend to draw from imagination, observation, and photographic reference. I may look at books or movies for inspiration, but I seldom draw from them. More often, I take a walk and observe the world firsthand. I may take pictures for future reference or I may just let it all wash over me. If I need to draw something I don’t have access to, I turn to photography as a reference. I always try to see the gesture first, then the big shapes, light and shadow. Detail usually comes last. I often inject flourishes drawn from pure imagination.

Q. How do you ensure and practically achieve the balance between your vision of a project and the client’s brief?

Casey Robin: When reading a brief, I note the client’s needs. What do they need to communicate, and to whom? I then try to imagine I am a member of the client’s key demographic, coming upon this art as part of my interaction with the client’s messaging. What do I expect to see? What do I want or need? What colors and shape language will speak to me on a subconscious level and entice me to keep looking? From there, I plan my design.

Q. What do you look for when choosing clients to work with?

Casey Robin: I hope for interesting clients with an open imagination and deep respect for their audience. If they are also whimsical and childlike, all the better. I, myself, am quite whimsical and childlike. It is important to note the distinction, in this case, between being childlike and being childish. A childlike person is able to tap into their deepest, earliest experience and see the world with fresh eyes. They retain their adult sense of reason but pair it with youthful wonder. A childish person, on the other hand, lacks emotional maturity. The childlike artist will paint you a fresh and lovely picture. The childish artist will wail and throw her paint at the wall.

Art helps us set a new vision for the future which can motivate, calm, and encourage us in the midst of uncertain times. It also sparks joy, stirs emotion, and help us better connect with our fellow humans.

Q. What was it like working with Disney?

Casey Robin: Working with Disney has been a tremendous growth experience. I have been fortunate to have worked with them in a number of different roles and capacities. Some fit me like a glove and others like a pinching 4-inch stiletto heel. I learned to honor my natural rhythm as an artist, and that Story and the Story Room are not the same things. I learned that the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but time and chance happen to them all. Ultimately, my experiences with Disney taught me to value myself as an artist and work to develop my unique voice.

Q. What kind of projects excite you the most and why?

Casey Robin I am most excited by visual development for animated features because of these light-up parts of my brain don’t always get to come out to play. The animated feature is – among other things – a marriage of many art forms. It incorporates visual art, naturally, but also writing, acting, sound and music, dance, pantomime, and improvisation. It marries abstraction, color theory, observation, and imagination in a way that makes my neurons dance. I also enjoy storybook illustration because it is deeply satisfying to develop charming visuals with which to relay a simple story.

Q. What would you say are your strongest skills and most vital lessons you’ve learned?

Casey Robin: I am particularly skilled at observing the natural world and translating it into simple shapes and colors. I excel in gesture drawing, which gives all of my work dynamic rhythm. I also have a keen sense of color, developed over many years of digital and traditional painting. Still, the most vital lessons I’ve learned have been intangible: things like how to build and maintain a professional network and how to use social media without destroying my mental health. I’ve learned that sometimes the best thing to do is to take a walk.

Q. What do you consider to be the most significant achievements as an artist?

Casey Robin: Truthfully, I am still young in my career. My most beautiful achievements are just around the bend. To date, though, I am proud of developing and co-directing the animated short “Chalk” during my time at Disney feature. I am proud of my output of personal work – pinup girls and mermaids and fairies – and the community that has gathered around that work. I’m still tickled that I got to design a Pinup Girl dress for ladies to flounce around in. Most recently, I’ve been excited to develop animated characters in collaboration with Goldie Hawn and also to help with character designs for Breyer’s new preschool IP, Piper’s Pony Tales. Additionally, I am pleased to have originated the drawing challenge #MarchOfTheFairies, which has become a bit of a thing on Instagram.

Q. What do you do to keep growing and evolving in your craft?

Casey Robin: I draw and paint almost every day. Lately, I have enjoyed drawing live for my audience on Instagram. These little warm-ups keep my pencil moving and help me clarify my thought process as I narrate the thoughts running through my head as I make the picture. I also take in a lot of excellent art and keep setting myself new projects and challenges. There is no shortage of wonder and challenge in the world. I will run out of time on this earth before I run out of inspiration.

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[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: A bit of angst

A/N: Sort of trucking along, now into chapter 4, which gets us into the meat of this whole story, so I guess this sorta qualifies as a slow burn?  Not sure.  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 2 – Well, It’s Valuable for Starters

Coral Gables Restaurant sits right on the banks of the Kalamazoo River, serving as the perfect backdrop to any lunch or dinner date.  It was Robert’s favorite place to eat and the whole staff knew him.  So, lunch dates for the two history buffs could last hours and no one would say anything to them.

Long after the lunch plates had been taken away, Robert nursed his beer and Rosemary leaned back in her chair, letting the early summer sun warm her skin.  As she sat there with her eyes closed, Robert let himself just watched her.  She was tall with a brunette pixie cut – the only hair style he’s ever seen her sport – and he noted there was greyer hair than when they first met and finer lines on the youthful face.

She took up a lot of space with her personality and that’s what he loved best about her.  Of all the people Robert called his friends, none were close to him like she was. When he met her not long after she started at the museum and it was an almost instant rapport.

He never had children of his own, never even gotten married.  But something about Rosemary drew him to her and he felt this love for her like he hadn’t ever felt for anyone else in his nearly seventy-two years.  When the doctor gave him the prognosis, he realized the sadness that had washed over him wasn’t about his death but the fact that he had someone he was leaving behind. It both hurt and consoled him.  He wasn’t going to be alone.

“Rosie.”  His voice was soft, but she still heard him and opened her eyes.  He smiled at her and she sat up and nodded, pulling her chair closer so she was more comfortable to chat.  The waitress appeared with refills for Rosemary’s lemonade and another beer for Robert.  They stayed quiet until she left.  When they were alone again, she raised her eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

“If there are things in those boxes that you can sell for the museum, go for it.  There are a few I want the museum to have and one item it needs to take.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll take anything that will cause me extra work, but we can draw up the deed of gift on the other items as normal.  I already have my eye on a few things, which are probably among what you are already giving us.”  He nodded. “What’s the item you want us to take for sure?”

“The Cornucopia.”  Her eyebrow raised in confusion at the comment.  “It’s a priceless art piece, a friend of mine valued it at three-quarters of a million dollars. On the low end of things.”

“WHAT?” Rosemary’s jaw dropped.  Holy shit.

“I know, I was surprised it valued so high as well.  I bought it at an antique shop in Chicago years ago and given how valuable it is, I want the museum to have it.”

“Uh, hell yeah!”  Rosemary’s eyes began to gleam with glee and Robert laughed.  He knew she was thinking of Fred and he was pleased he could help her get a leg up on the man.  While Breyers had never been anything but courteous towards the storeowner, there was an underlying hostility to the curator’s words and actions.  Something about the greedy curator never sat well with Robert and he shared in Rosemary’s dislike of him.  

“When we head back to the house after lunch, we’ll talk more.”  The two sat back and grinned at each other.

---***---

“But, ma’am. . . Ma’am. . .” Agent Horacio paused, the murderous look on their face not even showing up in their voice.  “Ma’am, I get what you are saying.  I’m asking you to set up a meeting with me to go over the case. Yes, we reopened it.  Yes, we’re working on it.  Now if you would just. . .”

The ever-patient voice of the agent faded into the background as Carmichael skirted the table with a handful of photos, a small smirk on her face. She walked up next to Pike as they filled the evidence board with the last of the pictures from the case files.  A second and third board were set up on the other side of the room, allowing the team to make further critical connections to the cases they had so recently linked together.

They worked quietly for a bit, Carmichael subtly shooting glances at Pike, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.  Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to look at her partner.

“Okay, spill.  How did the date go with Lucy in Accounting?” Her voice dropped to a whisper belying the eager look on her face.  Pike grimaced at the question as he pressed on the last of the push pins.

“There was no date. She stood me up.”  Her loud gasp caused a few of their team to look their way, but she ignored them, giving Pike a look to continue.  “I called twice, and she never answered.  Never even showed up to the date itself.  I don’t think I can go back to Bobby’s anymore.  Lindsey is starting to feel sorry for me.”

“Hell, I feel sorry for you, Pike.  That’s the third date you’ve been stood up on in, what? Two months?” Carmichael’s voice softened.  The poor man was having a rough time of it, what with Lisbon breaking his heart, his divorce before that, three failed short-term relationships after he came to D.C., and now this series of no-show dates over the last year.  She frowned and laid a hand on his wrist, which had stilled on the last pin as his words died on his tongue.

He didn’t look at her and she could feel him stiffen underneath her touch. He pushed down his growing frustration at the situation and turned to smile at her, the grin not coming close to reaching his eyes.  His shoulders squared up as if to say the conversation was done.  She had known the man for six years and just wanted him to be happy, but for the moment, she gave him a small smile to help him with his charade.

“It’s okay Carmichael, maybe I’m just not meant for a relationship.” His voice sounded almost sad at the tone and she bowed her head.

“I don’t think that’s true, Marcus.”

“Yeah, well the universe is working hard to tell me that I’m meant to be single. I should be listening instead of fighting it.”  He sighed and turned away, walking out of the room before anyone could comment on the large frown that had formed on his face.  She looked after him, a defeated look in her eyes.  No one loved as hard and as loyal as him, he deserved the world. She knew that the right person for him was out there, but she couldn’t understand why Pike hadn’t crossed paths with his soulmate yet.  

She turned back to the board, picking up the marker to begin labeling the photos they had posted.  While she wrote, she silently prayed to the universe that her partner’s heart found its home sooner rather than later.

-*-

Pike looked at himself in the mirror, droplets of water still on his skin and the strands of hair framing his face were damp.  Splashing water on his face helped cool down his skin, but Carmichael’s words of sympathy had stung, even if she meant well, and he had to leave the room before he got upset even more.  As he leaned against the sink, he bowed his head and took a few deep breaths. The small moment of zen from earlier in the day had faded and the headache had returned.

It was known that the agent wore his heart on his sleeve, that he was loyal and generous to a fault.  Most of his colleagues loved him for it and it inspired loyalty from those who worked under him.  But none of that seemed to translate into anything romantically successful.  At this point, he was certain that he was a running joke throughout D.C. and that women agreed to a date to see how long he’d wait at his favorite diner for someone to show up.

Last night, Lindsey comped his dinner because she just couldn’t take the defeated slump to the man’s shoulders one more time.  She even went home and hugged her wife, hoping a little of her joviality would seep into her bones.  If Pike knew that, he would have bitterly laughed at the idea that he can help other people love harder, he just couldn’t get people to love him back.

After letting the dark thoughts swirl through his brain for a little longer, he stood up straight and glanced into the mirror.  He wiped his face one more time and straightened his tie. Without looking back at his reflection, Marcus Pike vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let anyone in anymore. He was here to catch art thieves and that’s what he was going to do.

He just prayed the yearning in his heart heard the declaration, too.

---***---

Rosemary huffed as she staggered up the walkway to the front door of the museum with the heavy box in her arms.  She cursed herself for thinking that she could carry such an awkward and heavy load by herself, but she was a stubborn mule and was determined to get it all done in one trip.  She sighed when she reached the top of the short staircase.

She reached out and kicked the frame of the door into the building knowing that their long-time volunteer, Bob, was at the front desk.  There was something about him that grated against Rosemary and if truth be told, he was a bad volunteer, but he was the only reliable one and so she had to put up with him and his nonsense.

She realized with a start that she’d been standing there for several minutes, and no one had come to the door.  She peeped through the glass and saw Bob sitting there, looking her way. Grimacing as she shifted the box, she kicked the door again, harder this time.

And he still didn’t move.

With a low growl, Rosemary shifted around and pressed her butt against the handicap button on the wall and with a sigh of relief, she walked through the now open door.  While the June day wasn’t particularly hot, the sun was still warm and the physical activity overheated her.  The cool air of the lobby felt like kisses of heaven on her skin and she slightly closed her eyes at the sensation.  When she opened them, she looked directly at the man in front of her.

“Bob, did you see me kicking the door?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn’t you come open it for me, you clearly saw my hands were full.”

“Kicking is rude.”  The man’s rheumy eyes stared at her and it took two deep breaths to ensure Rosemary wasn’t going to start screaming.  She gave him a tightened smile instead and she walked over to the elevator. “Rosemary, the elevator is for handicap people, you’re not handicapped.”

“Bob, the elevator is for everyone.  Goodbye!”  She entered the small space and leaned against the wall.  We need him, we need him, we need him, she chanted to herself, nothing convincing her that it was true.  The ride to the third floor was a short one, but the heavy box made it seem longer.  When the doors opened, she took a left down to the staff offices and her workspace.

She did her best to carefully set the box down on the bench, but she grimaced as she heard rattling inside.  When it didn’t sound like anything broke, she heaved a sigh of relief. She turned her head as she heard footsteps from the hallway and within moments, Helen enter the room.

“How did it go?”  She had a small smile on her face, coming closer to the work bench

“Not bad, I took one big box of stuff – good stuff, too.”  The curator grinned and Helen grinned back, curiosity all over her face.

“Nothing ugly?”

“God no.  As my grams liked to say, ‘God don’t like ugly.’”  She lifted the lid off the box and suddenly Rosemary screamed, scaring Helen and causing her to scream, too.  The latter jumped back towards the door, unsure of what was happening.  The sounds of the two women yelling echoed in the room until the scream Rosemary let out evolved into a laugh, tinged with adrenaline. “FUCKING ROBERT!”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”  Helen was now on edge and creeping back closer to the work bench, still wary. Rosemary reached into the box and lifted out the stuff monkey she passed over earlier.  Helen recoiled at the sight.

“I thought you said you didn’t bring back anything ugly!”

“I didn’t!  He must have put it in here after I told him it was worthy of the dumpster.”  The laughter continued as she looked at the stuffed animal.  Finally, she sighed and set the monkey down on the bench.

“You’re not putting it in the collections are you?”  The director still looked at the item with wariness.  It was truly ugly with its almost realistic eyes. She shuttered before looking away.

“No, but I’m going to keep it, though.  He’d probably make a better watch dog than Banana.”  Looking around, Rosemary turned to her boss.  “Speaking of which, where is that dog of mine?”

“He’s in your office, conked out on the couch and snoring away.”

“See?!  I need the monkey now.  My own dog, of whom I am his whole world, didn’t even come hither at my screams.  I am abandoned and unloved.”  Rosemary ended her dramatic comment on a sigh, her hand against her forehead.  The two women began to laugh again.

“By the way, please for the love of all that is holy, find someone to replace Bob at the front desk.  He watched me kick the door to get in and refused to get up.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yeah, ‘kicking is rude.’”  Rosemary mimicked the old man’s gravelly voice and rolled her eyes. Helen patted her shoulder and said she’d chat with Bob about it, but the curator didn’t have much faith in the forth-coming conversation.  The director left the room and Rosemary dove back into the box to pull out the rest of her treasures.

---***---

“Here is the paperwork on the history of The Cornucopia. Please promise me that you’ll list this as a restricted item.”  Robert sat down, a file folder in his hand.  “I know better than to make outrageous demands, but I want it in the paperwork that this item cannot be loaned out, it cannot be displayed, and it is to remain the collections for the rest of the museum’s existence.  I don’t even want it announced that you have the piece.”

He took a breath and Rosemary’s eyebrows furrowed.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he had restrictions on the item.  He continued.

“The piece is valuable; I don’t want the museum becoming a target for it. I’m giving it to you because I know you’ll protect it.”  Rosemary nodded as she thumbed through the file, skimming the history of the sculpture. She looked up at him.

“Let me write up the deeds for you and we’ll note everything you want me to list in terms of restrictions.”  She got up and went to her computer set up on the table.  For the next hour, she sat asking Robert questions and filling out the forms, using the printer to create physical copies. After she was done, she sat back.

“We’ll take good care of it.  I promise.”

---***---

The next day, Rosemary sat at her desk, imputing the new collection pieces into PastPerfect, transcribing notes she had scribbled in her binder.   Most of the pieces she had taken were worth it; besides the map, she took a few pieces of pottery from a celebrated local artist, a couple of prints that dated back to the Fort’s early years, seven quilts, and several history books.  And of course, The Cornucopia.

She pulled the file out for the sculpture and sat back in her chair. After opening the folder, she began to read the files she had skimmed earlier.  The more she read the appraiser’s history more her eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

The Cornucopia was created for Russian Tsar Nicolas II by renown Ukrainian artists Artem Chumak.  The bronze sculpture was inlaid with rubies, sapphires, yellow diamonds, jade, pearls, and opals, most mined from around the Russian Empire.  Ukraine historically has been known as the breadbasket of Russia and the piece was commissioned by the Ukrainian government as a gift to Nicolas upon his marriage to Princess Alexandra of Hess.  It’s value at the time of creation was $250,000 USD.

It is known that Dowager Empress Maria took the piece, along with several other valuable items after the fall of the Empire and she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg in 1920, who in turn loaned it to the country’s National Museum of History and Art the following year. The museum returned it to the family during World War II to protect it from the advancing German army.  It was again loaned to the museum for another twenty years before the family chose to cease ownership.

The piece was then sold via Sotheby’s Auction House in 1965 to a private collector in the U.S. and has remained in private ownership since then.  Because of its history and the materials used, the value of The Cornucopia is approximately $750,000 for insurance purposes, but on the auction block, could fetch upwards to . . .

“Three million dollars?!”  Rosemary shrieked, her feet dropping to the floor as she sat up.  She looked at the sculpture sitting on her worktable and her face broke out in a grin.  Oh, ho ho ho, she really got the leg up on Fred Breyers this time.  This was the best gift that Robert could have ever given her.