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alarawriting · 4 years ago

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The Cold At The Heart of the Light: Chapter One

I’ve decided I’ll post probably the first three chapters of this as I work on it. There’s currently six chapters written and the seventh is started; I have been planning about twelve of them.

This is gonna have to be edited a lot when I finish the whole thing -- it’s too goddamn long, for one thing -- but I can’t spend too much time editing the first draft when I’m not done with it.

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As soon as the maid led me to the living room and I got my first look at the little girl, I could tell the child was dying. She was sitting on an overstuffed, white suede couch with brown fringy pillows all around her, at the back of a living room that looked like something out of House Beautiful, all tall wide windows and understated elegance in brown and beige and gold and white. She was maybe about seven, if her disease hadn’t undersized her, feet dangling off the couch and not moving. When children whose feet are dangling are not kicking those feet, and there is neither a book nor a TV nearby to explain the discrepancy, I can generally tell something is wrong. Her blonde curly wig was as expensive as the décor of her parents’ living room, but I’m an expert in these matters – I could tell the chemo had taken her hair. And her skin was dull and dry looking, her eyes vague and unfocused, her expression indrawn and blank, her small limbs painfully skinny. She showed all the signs of either being abused, drugged, or severely ill, and given that her father had called me in, I knew that at least it was the last. Probably the second as well. The pharmaceutical industry has never solved the problem of stopping children’s pain to my satisfaction (or, for that matter, the children’s.)

Her mother would have been an elegantly plastic politician’s wife if she hadn’t been sitting tensely at the edge of the sofa, arm around her daughter, clutching the child. Fear and anxiety make even women with $500 haircuts and botoxed foreheads seem human. I’d already forgotten the woman’s name; after checking over the daughter with a quick glance, I turned to focus on her father. Senator John Lightman, one of those politicians who manages to look “boyish” simply by being a thin dark-haired man in his prime when everyone else in the Senate is somewhere between 60 and dead, was walking toward me, reaching out a hand as if to shake it. I saw the look of puzzlement cross his face as he got a good look at me. “Are you…”

“Dr. Mystery?” I filled in the blank. “Yes, of course, I apologize. You couldn’t possibly recognize me like this.” I had arrived in a stock form, a middle-aged woman of average height, weight and appearance with blonde graying hair in a short fluffy do. I couldn’t very well drive around town in my working form, but now that I was here, it was time to shock and awe the mundanes. With a thought, I transformed.

When I first adopted this as my working form, it used to take me ten or twenty minutes in front of a mirror to get it just right, because it doesn’t look human enough for me to use DNA as a model anywhere – I have to brute-force it. But by this time I’d been doing it for so many years, it took only a few seconds. Changing doesn’t hurt – it feels like having a really good stretch, actually.

In a moment, I was six feet tall, simultaneously busty and thin, with the golden skin of an Academy award, iris-less purple eyes with cat pupils, and flame-red hair down to the small of my back. I wore a skin-tight black leather catsuit with no shoes, and modified pelvis and leg muscles so I looked like I was wearing high heels even though I was barefoot – an anatomic impossibility for other women, but there’s no point in having total control over your own flesh if you can’t use it to show off a little. To complete the costume I grew a white cotton labcoat over the catsuit; not exactly a cape, but the name is Doctor Mystery, not Ms. Mystery or Lady Mystery or Sexy Chick I’d Like To Do Mystery.

Being a supervillain’s all about the power and the respect. Back when my working form wasn’t quite so do-me hot, I actually used to get less respect as a villain, as if a woman couldn’t possibly really be all that mad, bad and dangerous to know if she doesn’t look like a supermodel. But when I do the catsuit without the lab coat, I get respect as a badass with dangerous powers and incredible fighting skills, not as a biomedical genius. Not that I’m not a badass with dangerous powers and incredible fighting skills, but I’m not a teen thug for hire anymore, I’m a bona fide mad scientist and I want people to remember that, dammit.

Mrs. Lightman’s eyes went wide, and she made a tiny little yelping noise and clutched her little girl… who rather than looking frightened, actually looked mildly interested for the first time since I’d arrived. Her dad was trying to hide it, but his lips had compressed as if he were trying not to bite them and there was just the tiniest tremor in his hands. I expected Mrs. Lightman’s reaction, but the Senator could have gone one of two ways – men usually react to me with fear or lust, or a combination. I didn’t think I saw lust in Senator Lightman, and when I took his hand and shook it, I confirmed it. He was on the verge of peeing his pants. I might have believed he wasn’t reacting with any lust because he really had eyes only for his wife, if he weren’t a politician. But I’ve known very few male politicians to be faithful, and even they couldn’t avoid being lustful. Senator Lightman was terrified of me because I was a Proxima and he was a Sapien-centric bigot. Also, probably, because I was a supervillain and a killer and I could drop him dead in a second, turn him inside out, make the skin melt off his flesh or give him cancer, just from the touch of his hand in mine. But I suspected I’d have gotten the same reaction if I’d been a member of the Peace Force, or even a Girl Scout with purple eyes and gold skin trying to sell him cookies. He hated my kind, but he needed me today.

And I intended to use his need to my people’s advantage.

“Introduce me to your family, Senator,” I said.

I felt his adrenaline spike through the skin connection of our clasped hands, but he managed not to show it. He let go of me. “This is my wife, Dot, and our daughter Mindy. She’s eight.”

I walked over to Mindy and knelt down in front of her, prompting more tension and white knuckles from her mother clasping her. “Hello, Mindy,” I said.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

“Do you know who I am?”

“My daddy says you’re some kind of super doctor.”

Super doctor. I liked that. “He’s right. I’m here to help you. I imagine you’ve gotten real tired of being sick.”

She smiled wanly. “Yeah.”

“Let me have your hands.”

“Will it hurt?” Her tone was tired and apathetic, as if it didn’t really matter if it was going to hurt or not. I suspected it was more resignation than apathy.

“Not at all.” I smiled at her. “I’m a super doctor, remember? It doesn’t hurt if I don’t want it to.”

She gave me her small hands and I clasped them in mine. I can’t entirely describe what I feel when I examine a living creature, not in terms that refer to the senses everyone else has. It’s like feeling a symphony or hearing a tapestry. Everything is very complex and interrelated, and I get signals from thousands of processes in the body, but it all melds together into a single big picture. The big picture here was that Mindy’s body was attacking itself. Her bone marrow was busily churning out cancerous white blood cells that didn’t work, filling her bloodstream with useless cells that crowded out and starved the working, useful ones. The pain signals were overwhelming even with the drugs trying to mask them, and the drugs themselves were dulling her mind as much as the fatigue and weakness from the disease.

Like many terminally ill children, she was quiet and accepting, which is constantly mistaken in glurgy human interest stories about terminally ill children for bravery. Children who go out with scarves on their bald heads and run lemonade stands to raise money to research and cure their own illnesses are brave. Children who are too tired to feel fear and have been living with a disease too long to cry about it are just normal human beings. Mindy was a normal human being, and her leukemia was also perfectly normal, something I’d dealt with a hundred times before.

I closed my eyes so I could focus better on Mindy’s internal world. First I triggered the release of endorphins into her bloodstream to mask any pain caused by what I was about to do. The human body rebels against my power, seeing my authority as a violation of its autonomy, and frequently reacts by tattling to the brain about it in a way that the mind perceives as agonizing, but unspecific, pain. As I told Mindy, though, no one feels pain in my hands unless I allow it. As soon as her body was saturated with endorphins and I’d shut down most of the internal sensory trunk lines to the brain, making her internally numb while leaving her ability to sense anything touching her skin, I swept my concentration through her body and killed every immature white blood cell she had. I then targeted the surviving mature white cells and forced them to rapidly replicate and mature, until she had almost a normal white blood cell count and they all worked correctly.

To finish off, I blocked the drugs that hadn’t been working so well anyway, turned the internal nerves back on, and filled Mindy with a combination of endorphin and oxytocin, and other hormones designed to make people feel good. This particular cocktail wouldn’t have sexual effects – Mindy’s brain lacked some of the structures needed to process that, yet, and I always took great care with children not to do anything inappropriate to their age. After what my own father did to me… well, I may be a supervillain, but I am not a child molester, and that makes me better than he was. What I was going for – what I always gave the children I treated – can be best described, if you remember being a kid, as the excitement from knowing you’re about to go to an amusement park, coupled with the pleasure you get from eating ice cream, and all that combined with the warm snuggly feeling you get when you’re cuddled with your parents. Mindy wouldn’t know why, in the future, she looked forward to my visits and felt very warm and positive emotions toward me. She would just know that seeing Dr. Mystery would be the coolest thing ever, and just my presence would be more fun than any doctor’s office lollipop ever was.

Combine such warm and pleasant emotions with the freakish physical appearance of an obvious Proxima, and Mindy would not grow up to share her dad’s bigotry, even if he tried to teach it to her.

“Mindy?” Dot Lightman asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Are you all right?”

Mindy lifted her head. Her skin didn’t look any better, of course – I hadn’t done any cosmetic work – but her eyes were refocusing, turning bright and engaged. “Mommy? I feel good, Mommy. I think the doctor fixed me!”

With my endorphin cocktail chasing away her fatigue temporarily, she leapt to her feet. “Thank you, Super Doctor Mystery! I feel all better!” She twirled around, perhaps to prove to all of us that she was fully healed… and stumbled. “Whoa, dizzy!”

“Slow up there, kiddo,” I said. “You’re not cured. You feel a lot better and you’re going to be a lot better, but you’ve spent a couple of years being sick and you’re not going to be back to your full strength overnight. Take it easy.”

“Is she—is she going to be cured?” her mother asked, looking at me, her lower lip trembling.

“She’s much healthier, right now. But no, as I said, I haven’t cured her yet. I triggered a temporary remission and bolstered her immune system to compensate for what the disease did to it, so she needn’t suffer while she’s waiting for a full cure.” I turned to Senator Lightman. “To cure her, I’ll need to perform three treatments, about two months apart. The cost will be $8,000 per treatment. When we’re done, not only won’t she have leukemia, but the genetic potential for cancer will be purged from her system, so it will be very, very unlikely that she ever get any cancer-like disease again. Short of living on top of a radioactive landfill, of course, but you understand what I mean.”

“Oh, God….” Mrs. Lightman started to cry. “Oh, God, thank you…”

“Don’t cry, Mommy,” Mindy said, and gave her mom a hug. “It’s good news. Don’t cry.”

“I’m crying because I’m so happy,” Mrs. Lightman said.

“I—I don’t know what to say, Doctor. You have a deal. I’d pay anything to save Mindy’s life, and your prices… well, they’re much more reasonable than I was led to assume. I’d pay more than that for hospital treatments, even with the insurance.” I was pretty sure this was a fib – Senators get damn good health insurance. But of course Lightman belonged to the party that thought that health insurance was a privilege, not a right, and downplaying the high quality of his own state-sponsored insurance was probably a reflex by this point.

I smiled at him. “That’s because most of my payment is non-monetary.”

“Non-monetary?”

“Let’s go have a discussion, Senator. I imagine you must have a private office in this house somewhere?”

His wife gave me a hard-eyed look. I returned her look with an “oh, please” expression, just the slightest of eye rolls and sardonic smile. “There’s nothing you can say to me that you can’t say in front of my wife,” Lightman said, his voice hardening.

“Yes, there is,” I said, pleasantly. “You want to tell her all about it when we’re done talking, that’s your prerogative. But I am here to negotiate with a United States Senator, not a husband or a father.”

He stiffened. “All right,” he said slowly. “We can go downstairs to the den.”

“Is it—is it going to be all right?” Dot Lightman asked her husband.

“I don’t see that I have much choice, Dot,” he said. “She’s the only hope Mindy has. You know that.”

“Mommy? Can I play outside?”

“Sure. Sure thing,” Dot said, her voice breaking again. “I’ll play with you.”

“Don’t let her overexert herself,” I said. “As I said, she’s better, not cured, and even if she were cured she’d still need time to recover her energy. She wants to run around and play now because she’s not in pain, but she actually still does need to save her strength.”

“We’ll go for a walk,” Dot said. “How’s that sound, Mindy?”

“Sure, Mommy. We can do that.”

“The den is this way,” Senator Lightman said.

It was a typical suburban finished basement, not nearly as fancy looking as the living room, if you didn’t count the huge projection television. I perched on the still-nice-but-obviously-worn couch, sitting on the back of it. “Let’s get down to it, Senator,” I said. “You’re a member of the Committee to Analyze Parahuman Activity. You’re aware as well as I am that the United States government has been investigating or implementing various techniques to control or eliminate the Proxima population, including laws to create a registry for us as if we’re sex offenders, black ops soldiers with power suits to hunt us down, attempting to find cures for us like we’re a disease, secret databases being maintained in an attempt to identify us in the absence of a registry law… so on and so forth.” I didn’t mention the biowarfare; people who didn’t live through being imprisoned in a government research facility and watching others being injected with various tailored viruses have a tendency to assume that government biowarfare is the stuff of paranoid conspiracy theories, and I doubted anyone had actually let Congress know what was going on there. The others, I was pretty sure he’d been briefed on, if not actively involved with. “And you’re an active supporter of the Human Definition Amendment, which would deprive us of any human rights whatsoever on the basis of junk science.”

The faintest beading of sweat broke out on his forehead. “The United States government hasn’t taken any illegal actions to ‘control’ the Proxima population, as you put it, and certainly not to eliminate you. You must understand, however, that we do have the right and the duty to protect normal humans from people like…”

He hesitated just a moment too long. “Me?”

“I was going to say, people like Caesar Primus or Optometron. But if the rumors about your activities are true, then yes, you. Weren’t you some sort of assassin? An enforcer for a drug lord?”

While technically the description was almost true, the idea of describing David as a “drug lord” almost made me laugh. Almost. I don’t actually have a lot of a sense of humor when it comes to David. “And I was rehabilitated by the Peace Force and today I’m a fine, upstanding citizen who cures little girls of leukemia,” I said.

“That isn’t a lot of comfort to the families of the people you killed.”

“Maybe not. But if I’d been killed by American soldiers in power suits then, your daughter would be out of luck now, wouldn’t she?” I slid off the back of the couch and paced around him. “And this isn’t about me. How many people were saved when the Irregulars stopped that second plane from crashing into the Trade Towers? When they held up the collapsing building so the firefighters could get out? When the Peace Force shored up the levees in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina so the city didn’t flood, or when Maui’s volcano went active and they shut it down again?” The Senator didn’t actually need to know that was a plot of Professor Octohedron’s, if he didn’t already. The Peace Force hadn’t actually broadcast the fact that the disaster had been caused by a Proxima in the first place; I only knew about it because Octohedron continued to believe that he could get into my pants if only he could impress me enough, and he hadn’t actually ever managed to figure out that I wasn’t impressed by grandiose plots to take over the world by threatening to activate volcanoes. “You might owe your life to a Proxima. You are about to owe your daughter’s life. So I want your support for our basic human rights. Oppose the Parahuman Registry, oppose the research to kill us or break us of our powers, and oppose the Human Definition Amendment.”

“The Human Definition Amendment isn’t designed to take away your human rights,” he said. “It’s designed to clarify the rights you do have. I mean, there have to be different ways to handle you people vs. the rest of us. Remember when the ACLU sued on behalf of the Heat Miser? They said that it was cruel and unusual punishment to keep him continuously drugged in prison. And as soon as they won and the drugs were withdrawn, his powers came back and he burned the prison down. 700 people were killed, over 100 guards and the rest of them human inmates, who’d been sentenced to serve time in jail for their crimes, not to burn to death.”

“Then you redefine cruel and unusual punishment to state that methods intended to block Proximas from using superhuman powers to escape from prison are not cruel and are perfectly usual. Passing an amendment to the Constitution that declares that Proximas aren’t human is overkill.”

“It actually declares that humans belong to the subspecies Homo sapiens sapiens, and that the law should not be automatically extended to grant human rights to people who can destroy our entire planet with a thought just because some bleeding heart doesn’t think they deserve to go to jail for killing hundreds of people.”

“Yes, and by declaring that Homo sapiens promixus does not automatically count as human, it effectively says that we’re not, and we can be shot on sight with no one but the ASPCA to worry about our murders, let alone suffer discrimination in every part of our lives. You do not live with the reality of what being defined as non-human means, Senator. I do.”

“And you, Doctor, don’t live with the reality of inhabiting a world filled with creatures who can kill you with a thought, steal everything you own, destroy your home without even touching it, or make you believe that up is down and black is white.”

I could argue that last point, if I wanted to be a smartass – I lived in the world where there was conservative talk radio, and it had convinced any number of people that up was down and black was white. But that would be sidetracking. “True. But you’re so focused on perceiving yourself as a victim of the existence of Proximas that you’ve given no thought to what it would be like to be one of us. And you really should. Because you have a child, Senator, and she is too young to be confirmed as Sapien or Proxima. You don’t know what she is, and you’re just assuming she’s Sapien. What if she’s Proxima?”

He blinked. “Well, of course I—but she doesn’t have anything in her background – I mean neither her mother nor I have anything unusual, genetically—“

“No one knows what’s causing the sudden explosion in powered humans, Senator, but we do know that it’s some type of mutation. 90% of Proximas have parents who were Sapien. And the number is that low only because some of us have started having kids. If your daughter was a Proxima with two fully Sapien parents, she’d be in the same boat as most Proximas. Including me. So you really need to think about it.”

“Well, I – I certainly wouldn’t treat Mindy any differently if she were – but if she were, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t check for it. But I could, yes.”

“Well, if she turned out to be, you could just fix it, right? As part of the treatment?”

I stared at him as if I’d just found him on my shoe. “Of course I could. And if she was black, I could make her white and blonde and blue-eyed. And I could change her into a boy if you decided you really wanted a son. Have you any idea how offensive what you just said is?”

“I – I didn’t mean to give offense. I just want Mindy to have a normal life.”

“Most Proximas do. I don't look like this all the time, Senator. When I'm not treating hopeless cases, I live in a nice little townhouse, with two cats and a cockatiel. I go dancing with men friends on weekends, I buy groceries, I do my laundry. I choose to look like this when I'm treating people like your daughter, because I have no desire to be kidnapped and pressed into the service of crime lords or the government."

"Why would the government kidnap you? Proximas have rights. If you’ve served your time for your previous crimes, and committed no new ones--"

"--I would still have the power to make old men young, cure impotence and infertility, heal disease and scarring, change people's appearances... come on now, Senator, don't be naive. If you had a way to make me heal your daughter without paying my price, you'd do it. And I think you're basically a good man, who’s concerned for the child he loves. Can you say none of your colleagues would want me to heal them? To restore lost youth, or whatever they had lost?" I thought of the white room then, the snipers with guns outside ready to blow my head off if the important old men screaming under my hands didn’t get up and walk free completely healed when I was done. Never again.

"I... suppose power corrupts. There are some bad elements in any system, but that doesn't mean the system is evil."

"I didn’t say the system was evil. I said it’s not designed to protect people like me. And if you and your fellows have their way, it’ll be even harder for me to live a normal, safe life.” I shook my head. "We're sidetracking. If Mindy turns out to be a Proxima, she could still have an entirely normal and happy life, so long as you didn't reject her for it and the government didn't kill her for it."

"I would never reject Mindy. No matter what. If-- if she was a parahuman--"

"Then your opinions on appropriate treatment of Proximas would be rather different, wouldn't they?"

He sighed. “Look, I have a constituency, Doctor Mystery. They elected me into office to protect them and serve them, and they have ideas as to what constitutes doing that. If I do something that they don’t approve of, I won’t have the power they’ve given me for very long.”

I flopped down on his couch again. “Oh, baloney. You mean that if you can’t fearmonger about hidden Proximas living among us and the draconian measures the Daddy State will take under your watch to protect the poor scared soccer moms and NASCAR dads, you can’t get elected.” I sat up and leaned forward. “It’s all bullshit. The tide of history always favors greater human rights, greater freedoms, greater protections for minorities vs. mobs. And it always works out better in the end that way. I understand that you have to protect yourself from lunatics who shoot death rays out of their elbows, but you know, you also have to protect yourself from lunatics who break into the McDonalds’ with a gun and start shooting people, and somehow it was your party who decided it was an unacceptable infringement on your freedom to hunt, shoot intruders, and generally feel like manly men to make people undergo background checks to get assault weapons.”

“The Constitution guarantees the right to bear arms.”

“The Constitution wouldn’t say that if you passed an amendment redefining a ‘well-regulated militia’ as the National Guard. Which I’m not saying you should. I’m in favor of your right to protect yourself with a gun. I’m in favor of your right to shoot animals for fun if you feel like it; I’m a Darwinist and you’re a predator. It’s in your genes. Go shoot deer if you want. But the Constitution currently states that I am a human being, because it doesn’t say that I’m not, and I was born in the United States to two human beings, share 99.9% of my DNA with you, speak your language, look like you, and have sex with you. Well, not you personally, but Sapiens men. So if it’s so vitally important to preserve the right to bear arms, because it’s in the Constitution, that it’s okay to let sociopaths get guns and shoot up college campuses, then it is vastly more important to make sure that every child born in this country to human parents is defined as human.

“If you pass this Definition of Humanity amendment in order to protect your constituency, and Mindy turns out to be a Proxima, then she can be raped and her rapist could be charged with bestiality at best, because she wouldn’t be legally a child who can be molested, she’d be legally an animal. She could be killed, and the most her killer could be charged with is animal cruelty. No school would have to take her, no hospital would have to treat her diseases, no restaurant would have to let her in to eat with you. You would have to fight a battle to get her treated in a way that you humans take for granted, every time. Want her to die in a car accident because the paramedics didn’t want to treat a Proxima? Want her to die in a fire because the firefighters didn’t want to risk themselves going into a burning building for someone who isn’t even human? There are better ways to defend Sapiens than making it legally open season on us.”

“But you’re against those too. The Parahuman Registry would allow us to track dangerous people without having to deprive any of you of basic civil rights.”

“Except I’ve never heard of a version of it suggesting that only parahuman criminals be added to the registry.”

“Well, dangerous parahumans haven’t necessarily committed crimes yet. But for instance, if your next door neighbor turns up dead of a heart attack and everyone knows you were fighting with him, isn’t it important that the police know you have the power to stop people’s hearts by touching them?”

“If your next door neighbor has a gun, isn’t it important that you know about it so you can keep your daughter from playing in his yard?”

“Most gun owners are law abiding citizens, and if someone is killed with a gun we already have laws on the books to help the police track down the killer. If someone is killed with a superpower, we wouldn’t even necessarily know to look for a superpower.”

“So educate the cops better on superpowers. Most Proximas are law abiding citizens. If you kill your neighbor by hitting him over the head with a frying pan, does that mean you needed to be on some sort of registry of frying pan owners?” I started pacing again. “It’s irrelevant in any case. I don’t care what your personal beliefs are. I care that you love your daughter and want her to be healthy.”

“So you’re blackmailing me.”

“Blackmail? I’m demanding payment. When your campaign contributors give you money for re-election, they’re not blackmailing you to expect that you’re going to show them some quid pro quo. I’m offering you something far, far more valuable than a few dollars in your re-election coffers; I’m offering you your daughter’s life and health. I think expecting a little quid pro quo is not unreasonable.”

“And what if I refused? Would you let her die?”

At one point that would have been a tough one; in this line of work you have to appear to be compassionate, but you also have to be tough or the patients will walk all over you. I had had plenty of experience dealing with this particular conundrum, though. “Do you know what I did for Mindy today? Do you understand her disease at all?”

“I don’t know what you did, no. You keep saying you made her better but you didn’t cure her. But I do know something about her disease. The doctors tell me that she’s making too many white blood cells, and it’s crowding out and killing the rest of her blood.”

“Close. They’re immature, cancerous blood cells, so they don’t work to protect her from disease the way mature white blood cells would. This lowers her general immunity, and yes, it clogs up her bloodstream and takes resource away from working cells. What I did today was to kill all the immature cells and regenerate some of the mature ones. She still has leukemia; she’s still making too many immature cells. Without a full treatment that will never stop. What I’ve done is to ease her symptoms. Until she builds up too many immature cells again, she’ll feel better.” I leaned on the wall, arms folded. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this every six months and never actually curing her. She’ll feel better, and she’ll have a happy, normal life, as long as she gets her treatments on time. The one time she misses a treatment, though – maybe because the government kidnapped me, arrested me, killed me or took my powers away – she’ll have full-blown leukemia again, and within a year or two she’ll die.” I pushed off the wall. “So you can support me up front because it’s the right thing to do for the person who gave you back your daughter’s life, or you can hedge and haw and refuse to get with my program, and if so your daughter will be well for exactly as long as I am able to continue treating her. The very laws you want to pass that will harm me, will block my ability to heal her sooner or later, and then she’ll die, and it’ll be your fault.”

“And how do I know that if I promise to do as you ask, you really will heal Mindy and you won’t just do what you just said?”

“How do I know that if I really heal Mindy, you won’t go back on your word and start pushing for the Human Definition Amendment again? It’s a matter of trust, Senator. You trust me, I trust you. Or you don’t trust me, I don’t trust you. Tit for tat. What’s it going to be?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to just rubber stamp your suggestions. Even if that was the right thing to do for my constituency, and it’s not. I’m going to study the situation and try to do the best thing to protect my people and yours. You can accept that or not.”

“All right, I’ll accept that, with one caveat. The Human Definition Amendment is totally off-limits. You can switch your support to the Inclusive Humanity Amendment, or just drop your support of Human Definition, but if you don’t publicly do one or the other within the month Mindy does not get fully cured. The other stuff, do the studies you want to do, but I think you’ll find that when you look at Proximas as if we are people and not weird animal things with superpowers, you’ll find it a lot easier to come up with ways to help protect your kind without harming mine.”

Lightman nodded. “All right, Doctor. Then we have a deal. When do you want to perform the first treatment?”

“If you’ve got $8,000 lying around in a checking account, we can do it today.”

“I do. Who do I make the check out to? I don’t imagine you can cash a check made out to Doctor Mystery.”

“Make it out to Miracle of Life, LLC.” I had about twenty-seven of these shell companies I used to funnel my various payments through, since even Senators typically had a hard time coming up with $8,000 in small unmarked bills on short notice, and a girl’s gotta eat. Playing politics is all well and good, but I needed to cover the mortgage and the gas money for my various trips to clients, plus the funds for my various Activities of Mad Science. Just because you can manipulate any organic tissue with a touch, doesn’t mean you get your beakers and retorts and Petri dishes for free. “Let’s go upstairs. I’m sure Mindy is eager to begin freeing herself from this disease.”

“Of course.”

At the top of the stairs, I reached out for his hand. Too afraid of giving offense to refuse me, he took it, and I shook with him. “Pleasure doing business with you, Senator. Go call your daughter in, give me a check and we’ll do this thing.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mystery. I may not entirely approve of your politics, but thank you for giving my daughter back her life.”

He wouldn’t be thanking me so much if he had known I’d just planted a tiny clump of slow-growing cancerous cells deep in his brain. It’d be a year from now before he started feeling any symptoms, and that would land in the middle of his re-election campaign. If he did what I wanted after I finished healing his daughter and we were on good terms, I’d find some excuse to come by and heal him or prune it down again. If not… there was a reason I was a feared supervillain even though most people knew me, if they knew me at all, as some kind of uber-doctor. You didn’t double-cross Dr. Mystery and survive it. Ever.

Well, unless you were Dr. Suryabati Chandrasekhar. Then you got any number of free passes.

***

The truth was, I was being something of a hypocrite.

I was offended at Lightman’s suggestion that I make his daughter a Sapiens if she turned out to be a Proxima, but not for the reason I told him. The difference between a Proxima becoming a Sapien and a Sapien becoming Proxima isn’t the difference between black changing to white or male changing to female. The difference was described by Plato as a man raised in the darkness leaving the cave to see the light of the sun, vs. a man raised in the sunlight doomed to spend the rest of his life in a cave. Making a Proxima a Sapiens is like giving someone a lobotomy, or a clitoridectomy, or binding her feet until she can’t walk. It’s an obscenity, a Harrison Bergeron nightmare of breaking the best down to the level of the mediocre, taking away a birthright one was born with.

Making a Sapien a Proxima is, on the other hand, one of my great callings in life.

Mindy Lightman wasn’t a Proxima before I touched her. But she would be, before I was done. I did a preliminary assessment of her DNA while I was performing the first treatment, and I stored a small amount of her cellular matter in a pocket under the skin of my hand, to study at length later. I’d determine how much energy her mitochondria could supply her and which latent powers-complex genes she had, and which powers they were likely to ignite into. If she had something distressing, like death touch or world-shattering TK or the gene for turning blue, I’d edit the complex over the next two sessions into something more palatable for the child of a public figure, something frilly and unthreatening. Maybe the ability to make pretty light shows, or fly. Most flyers loved it, and it didn’t seem to frighten Sapiens as much as some other powers did.

When I left the Lightmans’, now back in my middle-aged lady persona, I headed first to the bank to deposit the check. Senators whose daughter’s lives are on the line don’t give me checks that bounce, but they do take time to clear, so the sooner I got it in, the better. And then I dumped the rental car at the airport, changed form in the bathroom, and got on the Metro to head back home.

****

Science fact: There is only one gene that determines the difference between a Sapiens and a Proxima.

To most people this seems insane. Proximas come in an entire extra range of colors besides the human norm, have powers ordinary humans can only dream of, and get energy to fuel these powers from a source that is frankly incomprehensible. We just have to be a separate species, in most people’s minds. When Proximas were first discovered, there was a huge push to label us a fully separate species – Homo superior (thankfully, that one got shot down real fast) or Homo proximus, “the man who comes next.” Scientists – not me at the time, since I was too young, but reputable geneticists and biologists – had to constantly point out that the definition of a species is that they cannot viably interbreed. The children of superpowered and ordinary humans were themselves perfectly fertile. Ergo, we cannot be a separate species.

But we hadn’t mapped the genome then, and we didn’t know exactly why Proximas had powers. So scientists made, in my opinion, a mistake. They agreed to classify us as a separate sub-species.

You’ve grown up being told that you are Homo sapiens. What you might not know is that technically, if you’re not a parahuman, you are actually Homo sapiens sapiens. There were several other subspecies of humans, all extinct, such as Homo sapiens idaltu (elderly wise man). It is still scientific nonsense to call us a subspecies, when we’re only different by one gene – to put this in perspective, parents and children differ by many, many more than one gene – and in fact the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature keeps debating changing it to Homo sapiens sapiens proximus or dropping the designate proximus entirely. But the scientific evidence that we aren’t even a separate subspecies gets even less play in the media than studies that show that men and women are alike, if such a thing is possible. And at least the Homo sapiens proximus nomenclature reinforces that we are of the human species.

The trouble is, most people don’t know that the true name of Homo sapiens is actually Homo sapiens sapiens. So when they hear the short designators – Sapiens vs. Proxima – they assume that our species is Homo proximus. We’re widely believed to be an entirely separate species, and it doesn’t help that high-profile supervillains like Caesar Primus (who is 2,000 years old and knows as much as any Roman gladiator about science, which is to say, diddly jack), or Professor Octohedron (a brilliant physicist and inventor, but he knows about as much biology as I know about fixing my car, and let me put it this way, the last time I ended up dead on the side of the road I needed a friendly dude passing by to tell me I’d run out of oil) are constantly spouting off about how we are a new, superior species. Informed laypeople and doctors usually know better, but the truth – that we are different by only one gene – is so appallingly counterintuitive that you almost need to be a geneticist or an evolutionary biologist to get it.

But here’s the truth.

The human genome is packed with genes that don’t do anything. Most come from our evolutionary history. You may have heard that we are less than 1% genetically different from chimpanzees. That 1% consists mostly of control genes, which govern when, how and if the other genes turn on.

It turns out that some of those genes generate superpowers, under the right conditions. One of them turns melanin, the brown pigment of humans, blue in the presence of a hormone called catalysine. Others use catalysine to activate superhuman abilities. All humans carry some of these genes. But only a very, very tiny number – about 1 in 10,000 – have the gene that codes for the creation of catalysine.

Like testosterone, catalysine has two surges in a person’s life cycle. One is pre-natally. The amount generated is small and doesn’t pass the placental barrier, so no, pregnant women do not manifest superpowers when carrying a Proxima baby. That’s an urban myth. The surge pre-natally does little, usually, except to prepare the brain to control superpowers someday, creating a brain nucleus and appropriate wiring. In cases where the child has two Proxima genes – for example, the child of two Proxima parents-- the amount of catalysine created pre-natally might be enough to distort the child’s appearance, begin converting melanin into azurin, or awaken a low level of superpower.

When the child hits puberty, the same genes that turn on sex hormones turn on catalysine production. The superpowers appear, and wire up to the brain structures created in utero. If the child has the gene for azurin conversion, their pigment changes from brown to blue – so pale red-haired and blonde white children suddenly develop purple, green or blue hair, while brown-skinned children turn blue all over. (Azurin is also rare. Only about 5% of all people carry the gene for azurin production, and only Proximas ever display it. Non-Proximas with the azurin mutation never express it, and end up creating perfectly normal melanin, because they are never exposed to catalysine.)

The “power mitochondria” are another pan-human phenomenon that only expresses itself in Proximas. All living cells on Earth contain tiny organelles called mitochondria – practically separate living things, with their own DNA, they use oxygen and sugar to generate the chemical that powers all life, ATP. Power mitochondria vastly overproduce ATP, and no one knows where they get the energy to do it – it’s like they suck potential energy out of the universe and convert it to life force. But they do this only when activated by catalysine within the cell. About 1/3rd of humans have power mitochondria. In the presence of the Proxima gene, these people generate energy above and beyond what they take in from food and air, which is then consumed by their superpowers. Without power mitochondria, a Proxima must draw from their own life force to fuel their superpower, which makes their powers pretty weak. The exact same genes for telekinesis can code for a person that can lift 70 lbs with their mind with effort vs. a person who can lift an aircraft carrier out of the water and break it in half, depending on the presence and output of the power mitochondria. Since mitochondria are passed by the mother, Proximas who inherit their power from a powerful mother will always be very powerful themselves, whereas Proximas who inherit from a powerful Proxima father depend entirely on the hidden status of their mother for their own strength.

(Funny fact, here: when Proximas were first discovered, male Proximas freely dated, married and fathered children on human women, because our entire society says it’s okay for men to have wives who are weaker than they are. Proxima women, on the other hand, mostly stuck to their own kind. In the seven years since we discovered the role of the power mitochondria, we have seen a dramatic reversal in which powerful Proxima men will not marry or get serious with human women unless they consider themselves “childfree” or have had the human woman’s mitochondria analyzed for power status, and more and more Proxima women are dating Sapiens men.)

So most of what goes into making a Proxima is actually in a vast percentage of the human population – 30% have power mitochondria, pretty much all of them have powers-complex. It’s the presence of the single gene that codes for catalysine production that makes a person Proxima as opposed to Sapiens. My belief was that Proximas would not be safe from the fear and envy of Sapiens unless we were normalized. The more Proximas there were, the more the law would adapt to and accommodate us and our needs and the less we’d need to fear the mob of Sapiens out to kill or control us. So my primary work, since I became Dr. Mystery, had been to increase the number of Proximas by giving as many Sapiens the Proxima gene as I can.

In my early experiments, when I used uncontrolled methods like retroviruses to mutate people, there were high casualty rates. Sapiens adults whose brains have not been exposed to catalysine in utero can’t control whatever superpowers they develop if they suddenly start making catalysine. So I started working primarily with children, usually terminally or chronically ill children that I could get direct access to. My power can create new brain pathways, and in a child or teen, with a developing brain, I can do it transparently, with no one noticing. Adults cannot experience sudden brain growth and change without noticing that something’s wrong – memories suddenly becoming lost, well-developed skills becoming weaker, mood swings, etc—so I only alter adults into Proximas if they request it. I often modify women of child-bearing age so that all their eggs carry the Proxima gene, ensuring that they’ll give birth to Proximas if they ever have kids. It’s harder with men, because men are generating new sperm all the time – I’d have to alter the spermatogonia, and since they’re part of the body, the body’s immune system might notice that they are genetically different from the other cells and attack them, making the man infertile. So I only make men into Proxima-fathers if I have plenty of time to work with them and tweak their immune systems, if necessary – and if they’re likely to have kids. Gay men coming to me to save them from AIDS and 70-year-olds who don’t want to get Alzheimer’s are usually not worth modifying reproductively.

The Peace Force were aware of my work, and opposed it. They believed it was wrong of me to change people’s genes without their consent. Technically, maybe they were right, but come on, what sane person would object to having superpowers? The only reason anyone would not want to be a Proxima is the prejudice against us, and I was working on that too. So I had to maintain a low profile because every so often the Peace Force would take it into their heads to try to capture me. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t fully legal – I was pardoned for my activities as Megamorph by Bill Clinton (did you know that Hillary Clinton once had breast cancer? No? Well, neither does anyone else), and nothing illegal I’d done as Dr. Mystery could be proven in a court of law. But the law hadn’t caught up with Proxima abilities, so the Peace Force never overly concerned themselves with whether they could prove wrongdoing or not. Their mentor and leader, Dr. Suryabati Chandrasekhar, aka Doctor Sun, was a telepath, and if she said, “Bad guy! Go fetch!” they would jump like puppydogs after a thrown stick.

So I lived in Baltimore, in a townhome in the Woodberry neighborhood, on Television Hill, because living directly under the broadcast tower generated enough interference that Suri couldn’t find me telepathically. I’d have preferred Little Italy, or better yet, a real city like New York or Philly (and I’d come way down in the world, admitting that Philly is a real city), but New York was far too close to Suri, whose base of operations was in Manhattan, and a lot of my work was done with politicians, making Baltimore or DC more convenient than Philly. And DC had the Special Service, human police in power suits who patrolled to protect the Capitol from parahuman attack. I never felt safe in DC. My Woodberry home had civilians living on both sides and a children’s day care across the street, ensuring that the Peace Force couldn’t attack me in force – they’d know the threat to civilians from a power battle would be too great to risk it politically for my sake (and to be fair, most of them are goody-two-shoes hero types who wouldn’t risk civilians, especially preschool children, even if they had perfect political cover for the operation.) So I figured that if Suri ever found me, she’d still think twice about siccing her dogs on me.

Also, the Light Rail, Baltimore’s sad and pathetic substitute for a subway, had a stop near my home. I didn’t learn to drive until I was 28, and I still hated it with a passion. I was a Brooklyn girl – give me a city with buses and subways and railways, so I wouldn’t have to dodge hurtling chunks of death metal just to get where I was going. From DC’s Metro, after I dropped my rental car at the airport, I changed at Union Station to the Camden line, took it to the baseball stadium in Baltimore, and changed there for the Light Rail. This took far longer than a car would have, but didn’t involve me being isolated in a tiny box with no source of living organic matter other than my own flesh and facing careening metal boxes coming right for me. It also didn’t involve traffic jams, which are brutal on the DC Beltway. A short walk from my stop later, and I was home.

As I unlocked my front door, Brian the cockatiel chirped at me wildly, flapping his wings in his cage. I’m really proud of Brian – in some ways he’s my greatest work. He used to be a man, or the head of a man, who attempted to rape me once. The truly pathetic thing was that Brian had been a good-looking guy, wiry and blond, the way I like them, and if he’d been willing to wait half an hour I would happily have had sex with him. But he hadn’t wanted sex, he’d wanted rape – the only reason he dated women and went back to their houses with them, rather than jumping out of the bushes with a knife, was that he was a lawyer and knew that a handsome man with money who date rapes a woman will basically never, ever be convicted. People think rapists have to be hard up for sex, or have to somehow look evil – the idea that a handsome, charming guy who could get any woman he wanted would actually prefer to hold screaming women down and force them when he could get consensual sex with the exact same woman instead breaks people’s brains. They assume the woman must be lying, because what man who could get mutual fun would prefer to commit rape? No one wants to admit how common misogynistic sadists actually are or how normal they look.

I found out from Brian that he’d date-raped ten women before me, that only two had tried to press charges, and the cops had refused to take the charges in one case and upset the other one so badly with their disbelief that she’d dropped the charges. I found this out while I had him paralyzed but still able to feel sensation, his voice made too hoarse to do more than whisper no matter how much he suffered, on a cot in the basement. Over the course of the two weeks that I used him in experiments, he told me his entire life story, amidst lots of self-justifications, begging, pleading and promising to change his ways. Then I started turning his body parts into animals, bit by bit. The rats and mice I made of his arms and legs didn’t come out right, and they died. The cockroaches who used to be his testicles were actually very robust, but after the cat knocked over the terrarium I was keeping them in, I had to get an exterminator to kill them because who wants cockroaches in their house? I was actually quite sad when the puppy I made out of his guts wouldn’t wake up and live – sometimes they just won’t come alive no matter what I do. Living things are very complex, and it’s more an art than a science to do things like make life into different life.

Since at that point, Brian had no way to digest food or ingest water, and he was therefore only a day or two away from death, I finally put him out of his misery by turning his head into a cockatiel and his torso into an iguana, a gecko, and a handful of tropical fish. Nothing lived longer than a week except the cockatiel, which so far had lasted three years. I often wondered, since I’d used some of the original brain tissue in making Brian’s new cockatiel brain, if he had any dim sense that he used to be human.

I fed Brian a cracker, re-absorbed my shoes into my flesh, and took back my original human form before plopping down on the couch to relax and await my cats. My actual body was permanently frozen at about age 22 or so; I changed it so often, I’d never really had the opportunity to let it naturally age. I could have forced it up to 36, where I really was, if I had to, but why bother? No one was going to see me and think less of me for looking too childish. My natural form is about 5’4” and built like a gymnast – tiny breasts, thickly muscled legs and arms, a rounded and balanced body with a low center of gravity and nothing sticking way out of line with the rest of it. For gymnastics – my childhood passion – and for combat, it was a fantastic body, and I used it for years as Megamorph before it occurred to me that maybe I should hide my true face if I was going to be a criminal. For instantly commanding respect, making men drool and women envy, or sending the signal “I AM A SERIOUS CRIMINAL MASTERMIND”, it wasn’t so good. It was short, the face looked too young and soft (and too much like a young, soft Gillian Anderson – people in med school actually used to call me “Scully”), and a body perfectly proportioned for gymnastics or martial arts isn’t all that attractive by the psycho standards of our culture. But it was my body, and in my home, with the shades drawn and the security system on, I went back to it because it was me.

As I wiggled my toes on my shag carpet and then propped my feet up on my coffee table, I wondered where my cats were. They were well-fed cats, but their heightened metabolisms made them constantly hungry, and they knew I was a sucker for giving them treats when I’d first come home. Normally, they’d be leaping on me minutes after my arrival. This worried me. If I had accidentally shut them in the bedroom, Angelkitty would probably pee on my ceiling to express her displeasure and Pikachu might have destroyed my furniture with a few good lightning blasts by now.

My cats were also experiments. I’d been curious to see if the genetic structures I’d observed in other mammals that seemed related to the human powers-complex were in fact superpowers, so I got myself a pair of abandoned newborn kittens and in between the droppers of kitten formula (I really drew the line at making cat milk in my own breasts; those little things have teeth very early), I modified them to generate catalysine. The female promptly grew bird wings (which didn’t attach to the right spot on her back and were too small; she’d never have flown if I hadn’t heavily modified them for her), and the male developed the ability to shoot lightning out of his paws, so I named them Angelkitty and Pikachu. (Technically, if you have seen the Pokemon cartoon, which I admit I have, Pikachu is a mouse that shoots electricity, or something rodentlike anyway, but come on, there aren’t exactly any mythological figures of cats that shoot electricity.) Angelkitty’s a Siamese and Pikachu is mostly white with some orange. They don’t have power mitochondria – that does appear to be a human thing – so they eat like pigs. I could feed six ordinary cats off what my two eat, but they remain extraordinarily svelte, almost feral in their slimness. And so if they weren’t here to pester me for fish treats, something was wrong.

I got up and went out to the kitchen. To my relief, my cats were still noshing on their tuna fish, which amazingly it looked like they had barely touched before I came home. (I always fed them human food. Why not? I had the money to keep them in canned tuna rather than cat food, and they loved the stuff.) Pikachu looked up at me, gave me a meow that I interpreted as “Oh, you’re home, good,” and then went back to his meal.

Wait a minute. There was more food in the bowl than there had been when I said good-bye to them this morning. And it was beyond the realm of possibility that they’d left so much food untouched for so long, anyway. And the tuna looked fresh out of the can. So how—

“I was wondering when you were going to get home,” a woman’s voice said behind me. I was already spinning to face her, preparing to leap at her, but as soon as I saw her I realized it was hopeless. “Don’t you ever feed these cats? They look like they’re starving.”

Ciana Kim, aka Sapphire, my once-classmate and current dire nemesis, was standing – well, floating—above my stairs in her traditional blue bubble, her features slightly obscured by the blue distortion and concealed behind her mask. The combat leader of the Peace Force was in my house.

I backed up. I couldn’t take Sapphire directly. Her power was to generate spherical or toroid magnetic fields, which glowed blue due to the way they bent light, hence her name. I needed organic channels to send my power through—behind her force field, Sapphire was totally safe from me, because I couldn’t touch her. I wasn’t safe from her, though. She could generate a force field around me, trapping me, any time she wanted.

There was a switch by the door to my basement, labeled “FURNACE – DO NOT TOUCH,” that would actually activate an EMP. All the computer and electronic equipment I had in my house outside the Faraday cage of the basement would fry, but Sapphire’s power would fail as well, and I could leap on her before she could reset her power. Or, if I didn’t really want to replace my MP3 player, phones, and the laptop in the bedroom, perhaps I could grab Pikachu and throw him at her. He’d be startled enough to discharge a bolt, and the electrical surge should pop her field like a soap bubble. I knew I had a faster reaction time than Sapphire – after years of modifying and tuning up my nervous system, I’m faster than anyone who doesn’t have super-speed as a specific power – so I should be able to grab her and neutralize her power or knock her out before she could get a force field back up again. I was reluctant to do that because Pikachu was my kitty and throwing him at superheroes seemed kind of mean, even though I knew he wouldn’t be hurt, but the EMP generator could theoretically blow out TV Hill, and then I’d have to dodge swarms of reporters trying to find out why they suddenly couldn’t get on the air anymore.

I stalled for time. “They’ve got very fast metabolisms. I feed them all the time, but they’ll pester anyone they meet for more.”

Sapphire rolled her eyes. “Oh, stand down, Meg. If I was here to capture you or beat you up, I’d have done it before you knew I was here.”

She had a point. Sapphire wasn’t stupid, and she had completely gotten the drop on me, to the point that I was actually really embarrassed about it. “So what do you want? Cooking advice? I always prefer to replace the generic vegetable oil with olive or canola, it’s easier on the heart.” The last time I’d been in the same household as her, Ciana Kim had refused to learn to cook, for very similar reasons to her refusal to learn hand-to-hand combat.

She ignored my jab. “Doctor Sun sent me. She needs your help and she asked me to ask you.”

I blinked. Doctor Sun wanted my help? Cold day in hell. But it’d have to get a lot colder before I’d say yes. “She wants my help? And she actually thinks I might agree? Excuse me, but the last time I interacted with any of you people you wrecked my lab, ruined four years of work and set me back half a million dollars.”

“You were infecting children’s vaccines with a retrovirus. Did you seriously think we’d let you just get away with it?”

“All it would have done was make them into Proximas. What do you think I am?”

“Someone who mutates people against their will. And how do you know that’s all it would have done? Retroviruses mutate. Besides, it’s still wrong to change people without their consent. How do you know those kids would even have wanted superpowers?”

“Oh, be real. Who wouldn’t want superpowers?”

“If I wasn’t a Proxima, I might have been an Olympic gold medalist.”

She was telling the truth. One of the things that annoyed me so much about Ciana was how close her life had been to mine, minus the dysfunctional family. I, too, had had Olympic dreams once, and my coach had told me when I was 11 that I might seriously make it as a contender. But no matter how good I’d been, I’d never really had a chance; if my parents hadn’t died when I was 13, some other aspect of my family’s screwed-up-ness would have ruined it for me.

Ciana Kim, however, had had a good and loving family who’d pushed her hard in the belief that she could achieve anything. She was a third-generation Korean American from California and her parents were doctors or something like that, and they’d stood behind her every step of the way. Even after everything had fallen apart in my life and I’d basically become a thug for hire, I had followed the Olympic gymnastic news, so I’d known all about this as it was happening.

Ciana was originally to be the USA’s representative to the Olympics in Seoul for women’s artistic gymnastics. Much was made in the media of a Korean American going to Seoul to represent America, but Ciana had been very photogenic and full of great soundbites about how she was as American as apple pie and she was honored to represent our great country and she was so looking forward to bringing a medal home for the US and she was following in Mary Lou Retton’s footsteps and blah blah blah. And then, a week before the Olympics, it had come out that she was a Proxima. They’d finally figured out that doing a blood test for catalysine would find any Proxima with an active power.

The truth is that even now, twenty years later, as an experienced superhero who uses her powers all the time, Ciana still can’t use her powers invisibly. There’s always a shiny blue blob there. And she had no training with her powers when she was 16, so it would have been even more implausible that she could have somehow used her powers to secretly cheat. I would be disqualified from a Sapiens competition in gymnastics in any sane world because of what my powers actually are, but Ciana was disqualified solely from anti-Proxima prejudice (and, to be fair, probably some anti-Asian prejudice from the Americans whose job it would have been to advocate for her). The Americans paid for their prejudices when Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union took home all the women’s gymnastics medals (I don’t like Ciana, but I’m pretty sure she would have won at least a silver in something, if not a gold.) Ciana was recruited by Dr. Chandrasekhar to learn how to use her powers and eventually join the Peace Force, Dr. Chandrasekhar’s UN-supported superhero team.

So it wasn’t that I had no respect for Ciana’s loss, but it irritated me that she saw the problem as being that she was a Proxima rather than that the Olympic committee was scared of Proximas. And also, that being an Olympic medalist was better than being a superhero. “Yeah yeah, you could have had your moment of glory, and nowadays you’d be selling sneakers and breakfast cereal to pay the bills, assuming anyone even remembered you at all. What’s Mary Lou Retton doing with her life?”

“She’s been an Olympics commentator, and she’s a motivational speaker who supports physical fitness.”

Trust Ciana to actually know this. “And that’s better than being a superhero how? You save lives, you have an action figure, millions of little girls look up to you—“

“—I wear a mask when I save lives because otherwise supervillains or stalkers might hunt me down, no one knows my real name, my family aren’t allowed to tell anyone what I do for a living, I’ll probably never have a normal life with a husband and kids—“

“--You could marry some guy and quit the superhero business any time you wanted to, it’s just your overblown sense of responsibility that says you can’t quit your job to have babies until your powers give out on you, because you think the world needs you, and if that’s the case where would they have been if you hadn’t been a Proxima?”

“Someone else would have taken my place if I hadn’t been a Proxima. And all of this is besides the point; no matter how great you or even I might think it is to have superpowers, the fact is that you were planning to infect helpless babies with a retrovirus that would have mutated them. Some of them might have died of it. Some might have been killed by their families for being Proximas once they manifested. You don’t have the right to play God that way.”

“Nobody would have died of my virus,” I retorted. “I tested it thoroughly ahead of time. But you also notice, I haven’t done it again.”

“Because you know we’ll stop you.”

“Because I listened to your arguments that retroviruses are unstable and highly prone to mutation, and I decided that maybe you have a point.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“You didn’t even try to just persuade me. You just blew up my lab! Do you know how many vials of vaccine I hadn’t modified yet you destroyed?”

“All of this is pointless,” Sapphire snapped. “I’m wasting time arguing with you when Doctor Sun is dying. Are you coming or not?”

Wait, what? Dying?

I had been a half-crazed killer with no self-esteem, no sense of myself being able to be or do anything good, no belief that anyone could ever care about me – at least not without dying for it – after David died. Dr. Chandrasekhar had taken me in and taught me that I could have a better destiny than being a tool for monsters to use to kill each other with; that I didn’t have to be a monster myself. I could use my powers for good. I could help people. I could be a decent person.

Viewed from her perspective, I suppose, it didn’t last – I freely admit I am a supervillain and I do highly unethical things, up to and including killing people. But I do it for a cause I believe in. I do it to save my people from the bio-engineered diseases I was forced to participate in creating at Sonnebend. I do it so girls with superpowers who are going to medical school to learn how to save lives will not be kidnapped, stripped of their powers except when convenient for their captors, raped, tortured and forced to use their powers to heal enemies and kill their own kind, by agents of their own government. I do it so my people can enjoy the same rights and privileges as every other human on this planet. And the fact that I can fight for a cause, that I can see myself as a person with a noble goal of my own… I owe that entirely to Doctor Sun.

No matter what she does to me, no matter what she orders her Peace Force to do, I can’t ever get away from that.

“Dying of what?”

“She was kidnapped and raped by Caesar Primus. When she escaped, she was two months’ pregnant, but the doctors say it seems more like six months. The child is growing too rapidly for her to handle it, and it’ll kill her.”

Oh, God.

My heart started pounding, my throat went dry. I could feel the adrenaline surging, my sympathetic nervous system revving up for a totally inappropriate fight-or-flight response. I couldn’t stop imagining the reality behind Sapphire’s words. It didn’t help that I’d once had sex with Primus myself – consensual, sort of, but I could entirely too easily imagine what it’d be like to be raped by him, without powers to protect you. And Primus was immune to telepathy, so effectively Suri would have been helpless. God, no. I didn’t want to think about that.

So I was flippant, and cold. “Doctor Sun’s a woman of the world. You’re telling me she’s never heard of an abortion?”

“She doesn’t want an abortion. She says she won’t compound Primus’ act by taking an innocent life.”

“When did Doctor Sun turn into a pro-lifer?”

“She says the baby has a mind and she won’t kill it.” Sapphire floated herself down onto my dining room floor, still surrounded by a protective bubble but no longer on my stairs. “Are you going to help, or not?”

“I’m a feminist Darwinist. I’m morally opposed to letting a fetus conceived in rape live. It lets dangerous genes persist in the population. Suri knows that.”

Sapphire sighed explosively. “Fine. I knew you weren’t going to be any help, but Doctor Sun believed in you. I’ll just go tell her I was right and she was wrong.”

“What is this supposed to be, reverse psychology?”

“Nothing reverse about it. I knew before I got here that I would be wasting my time. You’re a killer with no conscience; why Doctor Sun ever thought you might help, I have no idea.”

“Because she knows me better than you.” I stepped forward. “If this is reverse psychology bullshit, it isn’t necessary. I’ve known I was going to agree to help you since you told me she was dying. And if you really believe what you’re saying, then nyaah nyaah nyaah. I’m a doctor; everything I do, I do to save lives. And at least I have to try to persuade Doctor Sun to abort the thing. Besides, if she was raped by Primus she might have injuries she could need my help with.” Primus had hammered at me like he was trying to break my pelvis, and without my powers he might actually have done so. And I’d voluntarily gone to bed with him. What he’d do to a woman he was raping, I really really didn’t want to imagine.

I didn’t mention to Sapphire that this was partly my fault anyway. When I’d met her, Suri (Dr. Suri to me in those days, but I feel I have the right to call her by her first name now) had been dying slowly of multiple sclerosis. She had met me on a good day; she’d only needed crutches and braces to move. On bad days she’d been confined to a wheelchair, and on really bad days she’d had to stay in bed. I’d healed her, and in the process I’d turned her from a forty-something woman approaching menopause back to a woman in her prime, young and healthy, physically in her 20’s. It had been almost 20 years since I’d done that; Suri would be approaching menopause again, but obviously wasn’t there yet. By now she’d be well past childbearing if I hadn’t de-aged her when I’d healed her disease.

I didn’t know whether Primus had raped her to torture her, to express domination over her, to really make the Peace Force mad at him, or to impregnate her, but I knew he had enough control over his body that if he hadn’t wanted to impregnate her, it wouldn’t have happened. It was entirely possible that the goal of the whole thing had been to force her to carry his child; Suri was an enormously powerful Proxima with high output power mitochondria, and most women with such energy-full mitochondria would have had a power they could use to fight back against Primus. Blocking a Proxima woman’s powers while she was pregnant carried high risk to the fetus if it too was a Proxima; it could prevent the fetus from developing the ability to control its powers as an adult. Suri was rare in that she was incredibly powerful but only telepathic, with no telekinetic abilities, and with Primus’ immunity to telepathy, she’d have had no way to fight back against him even at her full power. If Primus had wanted a powerful woman to pass her mitochondria to his child, and he hadn’t cared about her consent, there were few Proximas who’d make a better target for him. And if that was the case, then the whole thing wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t made her younger, sixteen years ago.

Sapphire blinked. “Wait. You are coming?”

“I just said so. But we have to bring my cats. They need to eat more than the average cat – they’d starve if I left them without food for three or four days, and obviously I can’t ask the neighbors to come feed them.”

“Fine. Sedate them; I don’t need a cat flying all over my car, or meowing and moaning in his carrier the whole time. We’ll put them in one of the suites and make sure they get fed.”

I took my cell phone – it had all of my appointments and contacts in it, and I’d have to call them all to reschedule once I knew how long this was going to take. If I could talk Suri into aborting the fetus, this could probably go very quickly, but I knew how stubborn she was. If I had to save the baby too, I could possibly have to take a few weeks.

Damn Suri. Why the hell was I taking time off my work and spending four hours in a car with one of the people who most annoyed me in the entire world to go save my greatest opponent anyway? From a problem she could just fix herself if she wasn’t so damn stubborn?

But I already knew. I couldn’t let Suryabati Chandrasekhar die; not under any circumstances, and most especially not if she’d asked for me specifically. Our differences were ideological; what she’d done for me went beyond ideology. I would fight her and her people when I had to, but if she was dying and she needed me, I had to go.

#nanowrimo #cold light #wip #supervillains #tw: csa #tw: rape #the trigger warnings are for things being talked about not things we see

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years ago

Text

Velvet and Coriander’s Honeymoon

New Earth, new me. That’s how it worked, right?

Yeah, I wanted to make the most of things, start a little fresh, brush my teeth more than once a week, all that jazz, but my sweet love and I were in a bit of a predicament: see, we were in the middle of a frozen wasteland with nothing in sight to hold us over. Well, if that’s how we would die...at least we’d die together (no, but seriously, I wish I had a plan or something. I miss my ship (and no, I don’t just mean the relation-ship, that’s going just fine, thank you very much) and being able to hack my way through problems. All this did was remind me how I was no good against the elements. Oh well, I wasn’t about to let it show how agitated I was).

“Hey babe, wanna make snow angels?” I asked my blue haired munchkin companion.

“Now is not the time,” she groaned.

“Right! ‘Cause you’re my snow angel!” I pointed finger guns. Shivering, shriveled finger guns.

“We’re going to die out here, you know,” she pointed out, as if it were a given. OK. So maybe it was. Just a little bit. But I didn’t want to think so. Going through all these lengths, raiding Area 51, defeating The Flashbulb, saving (one version of) the world, things couldn’t just end like that, could they?

“Nah, you’re going to die! From a snowball!” I crouched down and formed a ball, then threw it at her face. She wobbled over, but managed not to fall. That just shows how badass she’s gotten!

“Argh!” She stomped. “We’re both going to get frostbite and all our limbs are going to fall off and you want to have a snowball fight?!”

I shrugged. “Unless you have a better idea?”

She stared, all blank face. Not quite a poker face, more dumbfounded. Not to say she was dumb, though!

On the contrary, she scooped up a snowball and threw it, but I swerved out of the way and watched it fall just past me. She then wiped her hands and scoffed.

“All right, I’ve got an idea!” She ran up to me and wrapped her arms over my shoulders. “We’ll share body heat until we can find shelter.”

“Excellent idea, my blueberry comrade. I’ve read many a fic about this,” I gave her my sailor impression of approval.

“Can you please say something normal?”

I shook my head. “Negative, Captain. I’m only going to get more delirious the longer we’re out here.”

So we did. Yes, both of us. Choice quotes like:

“Chosen one? More like the frozen one.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a roasted marshmallow right now.”

“Nevada wouldn’t treat me this way.”

Anyone’s guess who said what. Our brains were more frozen than an ice cream addict’s overdose. If that even made sense. There was more than one instance where we collapsed over each other and shivered on each other. It was terrible. Kinda hot, not gonna lie, but terrible.

Lucky for us, salvation came in the form of some small, yellow lights. I saw it about the same time time Coriander did, but she was the one to point it out. She leaned on my shoulder and jumped up.

“Look! Look!”

“Ow, ow!” I replied, as if that was the only reply I could give to her.

We followed the light. Of course, for all we knew, it could have been a car or a train (ha, who ever heard of trains in a place like that?) about to run us over. Just my luck, right? But it was our best bet, and any form of luck was good enough for me. As we approached it with each stilted step and kicked back the snow in front of us, we noticed that it was a building.

Like one of those log cabins you’d find on syrup bottles, it had the whole chimney smoke and everything. We trudged on over and each step closer was a step closer to living for one more day.

“Maybe Santa lives here?” Coriander suggested.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe that stuff,” I shot back.

“You’re just being grinchy cause you’ve been naughty.”

“N...No…” My teeth started to chatter. Wind blew as we were almost there. “I’ve been sexy, there’s a difference. Besides, saving the world should, like, offset any bad thing I’ve ever done.”

When we reached the door, we both shoved our way in and collapsed on the floor. Right on top of each other. Both of us were numb and in shock. Meanwhile…

“Oh great! I just swept the floor, too!”

We both looked up and saw someone with flowing seaweed green hair and a little shorter than Coriander.

“Sorry, we, uh…” Great. It wasn’t like I could just explain “we hopped universes and landed here, oopsies.” I had to assess the situation, figure out where I was at, and then act accordingly. Just as I always did. If I knew one thing about how things worked, it was that a little bit of observation went a long way. So I shoved Coriander aside (lovingly) and wobbled on up. I was still in a bit of shock and felt all dizzy and sick upon standing up.

I winced. As I tried to look around, my eyes were full of static. Then came the uncontrollable shakes and shivers. Soon, the image of the place came into view; at first a blur, but then a wooden counter took shape, and my eyes darted around the room. People came into view, just a few, but it was something. Booths, tables, and that’s when I realized where I was at.

“Is this a tavern?” I asked, my voice came as more of a hurried breath as I tried to speak again.

“Close. I mean, we serve drinks. Here, just seat yourself,” the young woman replied before walking toward the back of the room. Before she could get far, Coriander also managed to pick herself up and call after her.

“H...Hey! What about a heated blanket?!” She was also a shivering mess. We both looked ready to turn into little icebergs, though too small to sink any ships.

“That’s not on the menu,” she replied, rather rude at that. Well, I’d say so, but that also made sense. Who would want to eat a blanket?

Both of us took our stilted strides to the nearest booth on our right and sat down next to each other. We huddled together and held each other, hoping it would alleviate some of what we were going through.

“Can’t believe how rude she was,” Coriander muttered.

“I don’t know. Kinda reminds me of you,” I said back to her, which I could tell by her face that she was quite offended by such a remark. I mean, it wasn’t that I disagreed about the rudeness, but for me it was just something I was used to dealing with.

“Look, we may have been lucky in the past, but that doesn’t mean everyone we meet is going to be nice,” I reminded her.

“Still wouldn’t kill her to get us something to warm us up,” she grumbled.

Point well taken. For me, and the journey I’ve been on, I’ve learned to more or less take what I could get and sometimes that meant I got really lucky, but other times, it was just barely enough to get by. That wasn’t to say that life was easy for her, either, but through the course of my life, I just learned to be more pragmatic with my approach to things.

“Oh great, now there’s PDA,” I heard the complaint of little miss seaweed as I turned and saw her storm on over. She seemed to notice now the kind of condition we were in and jumped in place, then turned her head to the side.

“Look, uh...I didn’t really realize...jeez. Sometimes I don’t notice things, okay? So how about something hot to drink on the house?” She sounded real uncomfortable and as she looked away, I glanced and saw her slide a menu down at the table. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t any more comfortable than she was. Like, it’s not exactly paradise going through the stages of hypothermia, but what can you do, eh? Instead of some snarky remark, I just came up with the first thing to pop into my head.

“I’ll take a hot chocolate,” my words came out like a wheeze, just shy of hoarse. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, gimme coffee!” Coriander just about coughed up a roar.

“You get too energetic when you get coffee!” I reminded her.

“Do not! Anyway, I’ll have a mocha.”

That seemed like a fair compromise. Couldn’t really argue there.

“Got it,” she jotted down on her notepad. “One hot chocolate for Pippi Longstalking and one mocha for Blue Raspberry Starburst. I’ll have that out in a jiff.”

“Well, at least we know those things exist in this timeline,” I scoffed.

“Hey, you can’t just be talking about timelines willy-nilly,” Coriander scolded this time. “We don’t know what references we can and can’t make. What if we say something and it doesn’t make any sense to them?”

I shrugged.

“I’d be used to it.”

As we sat, I felt my body start to warm up a little. Taking in the atmosphere of the room, the warm and cozy air, I couldn’t help but be reminded of another instance where I was at a diner after almost dying from the elements. It seemed like I was a lot worse for wear back then. What with managing to escape a government facility within an inch of my life only to collapse from heat exhaustion. No friends to get me by, no idea where my ship was. If it wasn’t for being taken in by a nice middle aged lady I didn’t know if I’d still be around.

It’s kind of a funny thought now, because it seems like, at least on the surface, that the current situation wasn’t far removed from that time: I didn’t have an experimental aircraft to escape in, not anymore. I was ill-equipped for the cold, and most of the friends that I’ve made I’ve had to part with. But I think I consider myself lucky, that even if I had nothing else, even if I had been on the brink of death, at least I had Coriander with me.

The longer I thought of all that, the contrast between then and now, the whole trade off...I couldn’t help myself but lean over and give Coriander a kiss on the cheek. Even if my lips were cracked, and her cheeks already matched the color of her hair. As life returned to her, there was a bit of a rosiness, but it was clear it would take some time for both of us to warm up.

As soon as I pulled away she sunk her head.

“Here? Now? There’s people...and…”

“Worth it,” I stopped her, feeling rather triumphant.

I noticed someone approach, and I figured it would be Miss Seaweed with our drinks, but instead it was some tall buff lady with short, dark brown hair. She threw a blanket at us.

“I know what it’s like to be cold,” she told us, as if that wasn’t just some random act that required introduction. I should’ve been like “now do that again, but gently this time,” but I kept quiet. For my own sake.

We pulled the blanket down and I looked up. While she didn’t look like someone you’d wanna mess with, her overall look on her face was one of boredom. Or dejection? Exhaustion? Maybe it was just her Default Face. No shame there. I knew how that could be.

“Thank you, miss,” I did my best to be polite.

“Remora,” she informed me.

“Hm?” I was confused, but then I gave it some thought. “Oh! Your name!”

She gave a short nod.

“You can just call me…” I was gonna be real honest, I didn’t know how I was going to introduce myself to someone on a new Earth. It was a time to start fresh, so I could pick out a new name if I wanted to. “Plush?” I said at last, and figured that would suffice.

“Huh?” Coriander turned to me. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Just call me Corduroy,” she told Remora. It worked.

As Remora turned away, I looked respectfully for a few seconds, then turned back to Coriander and sneered. “You should’ve said your name was Octillery.”

“Maybe I’m saving that one for a special occasion, you don’t know me,” Coriander defended, as if there was really anything to defend. Soon after, I looked down at the menu. There was the usual diner food. French toast, pancakes, hash browns, the like. But then there was some weird ones, like spaghetti and croque madame.

“I think I’d just like some eggs and toast,” I muttered. Weird as it was, my appetite just didn’t ask for much at the moment. Usually I could eat a truck load of fat, but maybe it was situation at hand that really made me not very hungry.

“How about this?” Coriander nudged. “Tartiflette?”

If only I had an encyclopedic knowledge of food, I’d have had an opinion. Instead, I suggested.

“Why don’t you order it and try it out?”

“No,” she disregarded. “I don’t want to order something and find out I don’t like it.”

“Then get something you know you’ll like?”

“No way! That’s too safe!”

I sighed. I couldn’t disagree, but I didn’t know what to tell her, either. Then again, I just realized one significant fact: neither of us had money.

“Psst, wanna dine and dash for old time’s sake?” I muttered to Coriander.

Before Coriander could answer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I just about slapped that hand away, when I looked up and saw it was Remora.

“Don’t even think about it. If you need to pay for your meal, take this,” she handed me a stack of cash.

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you,” I blinked, as I flipped through the bills as if they were a deck of cards. Nice, but a little too nice. Like, who just gives away that much money?!

“Not really. It’s just less of a hassle than dealing with another redhead trying to rob the place,” she replied, as if that was some kind of regular occurrence.

I watched her walk away once more while humming what sounded like “Let It Go” or some bootleg version (or maybe on this version of Earth, their version was the superior one. Who’s to say?) of it.

Then Seaweed (that’s what I’d call her) came back with our drinks. We both thanked her, and Coriander took her cup and tried chugging it down before spitting it out.

“Ack! Too hot!”

“Why? Why would you just...who does that?!” Ol’ Seaweed over there balked. “Now I have to clean that! What a waste of a perfectly good drink!”

“Sorry about that,” I spoke on behalf of my other. “She can be a little impulsive sometimes.”

“Me?! Impulsive?! You’re the impulsive one!” Coriander protested.

“Not denying that, but I also know things.”

“Hey! I be knowing too!”

“Ugh...are you two ready to order or are you going to continue your comedy duo routine?” Seaweed groaned.

“I’ll just have some scrambled eggs and toast,” I told her.

“Yeah? Can I get a name for your order?”

Ooh. Should I have gone with Plush again or change it? Hmm...I wasn’t really committed to Plush.

“Parsley,” I said after some thought.

“Okay, what about you…?” She addressed Coriander.

“Yeah, so here’s the deal: I’d like to order a Gratin Dauphinois. I’d also like a BLT, and a turkey club, and a cinnamon roll. And just call me Cardamom.”

Seems the reason I didn’t have much of an appetite was because Coriander had stolen mine.

“Oh sure, do you want me to feed you grapes while you’re at it?” Seaweed scoffed.

“Not a bad idea,” Coriander snapped her fingers.

“Ugh...I bet those aren’t even your real names...but I can’t be assed to care.”

I nudged Coriander.

“Heh, she reminds me of you. Short and full of attitude.”

“No way! I’ve got a good few inches on her!” Coriander bragged.

Our gracious waitress chimed in with a groaned, “size doesn’t matter.”

Both Coriander and I laughed at that, while she went off to pass along our order to the cook.

While we waited, we had a good few minutes to collect our thoughts.

“Realistically, while it’s good to warm up and get some food in us, we will have to leave before too long,” I explained as I leaned forward. “We just need to figure out where we are, where the nearest landmarks are, and plan accordingly. If we can find a city, even better.”

“Or worse,” Coriander eyed me. “Sure, more people who could help us, but that also means more people who probably won’t. Sure, there’d be food and shelter, but more than likely, those things would cost money. Even with the money that Ramona gave us, that’s sure to run out before long. What then? Get jobs? Like hell. Plus, we don’t even got ID, so not even an option.”

I didn’t bother correcting her on that person’s name, and focused on the rest of the argument instead.

“OK, Sour Grapes. Maybe it’s good to have reality checks every now and then, but we’re also getting a nice meal and at the moment, warm. We’ve managed to last this long, so we ought to figure something out, right?”

“Yeah,” she slumped over the table and stretched her arms out across it. “But I don’t know what. We’re both the brains of this operation, but right now my brain’s got nothing.”

“That’s the thing, though: neither of us know anything right now. We don’t know what part of this world we’re on or what’s different about it than the world we’re used to. Let’s just ask the waitress a few basic questions, start from there?”

We agreed to that, and once Seaweed came back with our food, I started.

“Hey, what year is it?” I asked.

She leaned her head back and looked all confused. “It’s...the current year?”

“Oh, thank you. I know, obvious thing to ask, right? Like, who doesn’t know what year it is?” I peppered in. Under normal circumstance, such a question would never have come up.

At least now I knew that it was current year, and that was a start.

She set both our plates down. Then ran back toward the kitchen, grabbed a couple more plates, and returned it to Coriander.

“What about where we are?” I asked the waitress. “We’re, like, totes lost, dude,” as if that lessened the damage.

“Hmm...honestly, I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s like between Northern Canada and Greenland, but not really in either of those places. Kind of a gray area, y’know?”

Well, that didn’t help too much, but I at least had a general idea of the time and place.

Coriander dug into her potato thing, and then bowed her head.

“Finally, some good fucking food,” she sounded so relieved, then continued to chomp away.

Rather than eat, I couldn’t help but wonder a few more things. Even though I knew the waitress wouldn’t have a clue what I’d be talking about, I found myself thinking out loud.

“I wonder if there’s anyone I know in this timeline. There might be a Blanc, but I’m not sure where I’d even look. I also know there’s a version of Juniper here. I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Juniper? I have a cousin named Juniper,” our waitress replied to me. I was shocked to find her respond to my thoughts, but I was intrigued all the same.

“Yeah? I wonder if it’s the same one I’m thinking of…”

“Probably not!” Coriander chimed in, mouth full of gooey potato. She took one big gulp, then added, “there’s more than one person on Earth with the name Juniper. There’s at least, like, eleven people with that name. Probably.”

“Maybe more,” I agreed.

“Yeah, good point,” the waitress seemed to agree as well. “That was a little silly on my part. It’s like if someone were to talk about their good friend Dennis and me going ‘hey, I have a cousin named Dennis’, as if that isn’t a common name. I don’t have a cousin named Dennis, just so you know.”

“Cool. Lore,” I made a mental note. No Dennis. Got it. “What is your name, by the way? I’ve been calling you Seaweed in my head, but I feel like I ought to call you by your actual name.”

“Wow, I hate you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m Demetria.”

“I mean, that’s close to Dennis, if you think about it,” I tried to ease the tension.

“Hm. I see your point. That, or I’ve stopped caring altogether.”

I shrugged in response, as if to say that I also couldn’t care less one way or the other. At least a mutual apathy could go a long way, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of relations. Now that we had a starting off point, I had to get down to brass tacks.

“Say, Lil D –” I began, before she interrupted me.

“Don’t call me that. And what?”

“I’m curious where your cousin Juniper lives. Think you could point me in the right direction?”

She seemed taken aback by the question. Understandable, really, but from how things have went so far, I knew she’d answer regardless.

“Look, I don’t know what your family’s like, but I’m not, like, close with my cousins. They’re distant relatives, why would I need to think about them? They only cross my mind when I think about how I have a gay cousin, but that’s it.”

Gay cousin. How interesting. Sounds a bit like the chipper and quite gay Juniper I knew, but then again, there could be other gay Junipers in the world. Then again, she could have more than one cousin. That seemed rather obvious.

“Why do you wanna know, anyway?” She peppered in that last question. It might have been the question I was waiting for, but now that she asked it, I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

My mind went through several avenues, most of which involved lying. My true objective was flimsy at best, as I was just going off of a hunch, and if nothing else, wanted a destination in mind for where to head.

“Tell me, Demetria,” my mind settled on deflection as the best method. “You’re a waitress for a diner in the middle of nowhere. What’s your story?” “Not really much to it,” she shrugged. “I just found this place and I work here.”

“Oh, come on, now. I can tell you’re not from around here, and no waitress in the middle of nowhere doesn’t have a tale to tell unless they’re from the area. You at least have to admit, this is a rather boring job, wouldn’t you say? Didn’t you ever have any goals in life?”

“I...err…” She started to tense up. Great. Sometimes conversations really did seem like a delicate process, like trying to crack open a safe. “My goals are far too complex. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She looked around the room, then cleared her throat.

“Well, you see...I want to be swept up off my feet by a strong woman. Maybe body slammed, too. But not just any strong woman,” she looked around then lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Remora.”

I closed my and waved about my hands while giving off a rather smug smile.

“Say no more, say no more,” a certain Monty Python skit came to mind as I said those words. “I can relate. You see, there’s this lady named Juniper, and we go way back. You could say she was the one who got away. Now, your cousin may be some average June, but I’m willing to take my chances in order to see her again.”

That seemed to distress her, as she looked at Coriander, then back at me. Then back at Coriander.

“Aren’t...you two…?”

“Oh yeah. Totally. And I love her to death, but it’s more like, I want closure, y’know? It’s been years now, but every month of June, my heart aches, and I want to put this to rest.”

“...She’s got a wife, you know.”

My heart skipped a beat. I felt the hairs of my arms stand on end and little goosebumps formed. But this wasn’t a frightened shock, more of a “well, if this is the Juniper I’m familiar with, that’s wonderful news! I wonder who the lucky lady is” kind of shock.

“I recall something like that, actually!” I snapped my fingers. “She sent me an invitation to the wedding, but I never received it.”

“Weird. I figured you guys must not have talked for years or something,” she remarked.

“You’re right, though we talked briefly a couple years back, and she considered us still friends, I just wasn’t very good at getting back with her, and then I lost my phone, and haven’t had a new one since, so I can’t even be like ‘new phone, who this?’”

“That’s rough. I mean, not that I really know. I just cut ties with my only friend recently…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she waved her hand aside. “I’ve never been all that good at the whole friends thing.”

“I consider us friends.”

“Stop. We just met.”

Well, it was worth a try. Now, back on topic.

“The invitation’s always open. If you need an ear, or a shoulder. The rest of me belongs to the one sitting next to me.”

‘Right, well, anyway, I don’t really know where she lives, so tough luck there. All’s I know is the city she lives in, and fat chance finding her in a big city like that.”

Oh, but my goal is the city itself, I thought, as if I were some evil genius.

“What city is that?”

“I’ll write it down for you, but I want something out of this too. I don’t work for free...well, actually I do, but I’d rather not think about that.”

Right. Disregarding that last bit, out of courtesy, there was the matter of a bargain. Squid pro quo, the like. At the least, I’d need to hear her out, even if I wasn’t going to be able to fulfill her request.

“What do you have in mind? I’d like to remind you we kind of don’t have anything right now.”

“Nah, that’s whatever. I just wanna know...how’d you end up with someone?”

I stifled back laughter. No disrespect intended, but I just wasn’t expecting something like that.

“Shit, I dunno. I just raided Area 51 one day and stole her along with a UFO.”

That explanation caused her to roll her eyes.

“Be serious. Tell me really.”

And that is why I usually don’t tell the truth. Stranger than fiction and all that bullshit.

“All right, you got me. We met at a state fair and bonded over…” C’mon, Velvet. Think, think. “Deep fried Doritos. She said something like, ‘I never met anyone as passionate about...doritos...as you’ or something like that, I’m hazy on the details.”

Coriander overheard and decided she wanted in on the elaborate ruse.

“Hey, I remember that day! I was pissed at you because you ran over my four foot possum’s tail with your dirt bike!”

“I swear, your possum’s tail was as long as a boa constrictor, no wonder it got ran over!” I retorted. Not gonna lie, I was having fun.

“That’s enough,” Demetria cut us both off short. “There’s no way I’m ever gonna be in a situation like that, so I think I’ll just stick to pining from afar.”

“Aw, keep your chin up. Those things can be unpredictable.”

“That’s for sure. Anyway, a deal’s a deal.” I watched as she took out a pen and flipped over her notepad. On a new sheet of paper, she jotted down the name of the city and tore the sheet off the notepad and handed it to me. Also at the bottom of the sheet was a price. In other words, the check.

I flipped through the stacks of cash gifted to me from tall, dark, and awkward and pulled out a few bills. After I handed them to Demetria, she left, and I turned my attention toward Coriander.

“Here’s our next destination,” I pointed to the name of the city on the sheet of paper.

“Yeah, but how are we going to get there?” She asked. Good question. Rather astute.

“There’s got to be an airport nearby. We just head there, and we’ll figure out the rest from there.”

“Okay, but where’s the airport?”

“Uhh…”

We wouldn’t have to wait long for our answer. Who approached us next was a slim man with a tuxedo and short, black hair. He strolled with careful strides, as if each step had a purpose. Before he uttered a word to either of us, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses, rubbed the lenses with a cloth, then put them on.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I hope your meal has been well. I am the owner, Ray Sunshine. Please let me know if you need anything.”

I waved my hand away.

“Yeah, Raymond? Can I call you Raymond? Look, this meal has been fab,” note: I haven’t even taken a bite of what I ordered. “But I’ve got a lot on my plate. Some bloke stole my rental car, and I was only renting it to get to the airport. Now, my body’s built pretty tough, I’ve eaten my spinach, but I’m hopeless without a GPS, so I’m a little unsure how I’m going to get to the airport now.”

He squinted at us, and then let out a soft chuckle.

“You guys can’t hustle me. Not only that, it’s unnecessary. There’s a hatch in the kitchen which leads to our basement. That’s where we brew all our ales. You’ll find a load of barrels down there. In the back of the basement, there’s a door which leads to a tunnel. You follow that tunnel all the way through and at the end of the tunnel is another flight of stairs is another hatch which leads to the airport.”

“Why do you have something like that in your basement?” I asked, though it was rather convenient. The whole thing reminded me of the set up I had when I lived underneath that university.

“Let’s say it’s come in handy when a few deals have gone sour.”

“I see. And you’re just gonna let us go through there. I mean, I appreciate it, but why?”

He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“Maybe I’m feeling generous,” he walked away after that.

Soon after our meal, we got up and headed to the kitchen. Inside was a little kid stirring a big pot.

“Oh, didn’t expect to see any kids around here,” I remarked. The kid looked at me.

“No customers allowed! I’m making myself gumbo!”

An older woman, curly brown hair, tank top, and all muscle stood beside the kid.

“Now Tigershark, Ray said it was okay,” she told the kid.

“Oh, OK! But only because the penguin boss said so!”

Heh. Penguins.

“Name’s Sunny, by the way. Shame we didn’t get more of a chance to talk,” she extended her hand toward me. I shook it, then looked at her respectfully before letting go. Coriander did the same.

We opened the hatch and began our way down. I waved to Sunny and Tigershark before I reached the bottom.

“Next time I’ll try your gumbo!” I told Tigershark.

“And we should have an eating contest! Or wrestle!” Sunny’s excitement couldn’t be contained by words alone.

After our long trek through the tunnel, we arrived in the airport and bought a couple of donuts at one of the airport bakeries. Then, we took our flight to the city where Juniper lived. We didn’t know what we’d find there, but it was a start. While on the flight, I turned to Coriander.

“Well, here’s to our honeymoon,” I smiled and spoke as if those were words of reassurance.

“That was a honeymoon? Wait. What’s a honeymoon?” She asked me.

Before I could answer, she fell asleep.

Look, I was tired. It was a long day, we almost froze to death, I ate my weight in food, I’m pretty sure anyone would be tired. Make sense? Good. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s skip the boring details. We made it to the city, bought more donuts once there, met up with the Trent of this new timeline (he was just as plain as ever. He didn’t know who I was, which I thought was quite rude until I remembered the whole timelines thing. After I explained a bit, he asked if Velvet and I wanted to play D&D, but we really didn’t. So he gave us directions to where Juniper lived, along with someone else, think he said West or something. I dunno), then headed over to where this Juniper person lived.

Considering we met up with Trent, it was almost guaranteed that this was who we thought it was, which was good news for Velvet. I couldn’t care less, as long as there was food and a place to crash. But she was cute, so I guess that’s a good enough reason, too. However, when Velvet knocked on the door to this Juniper’s apartment, instead, a different familiar face opened the door.

“Verse?” Velvet asked. “What are you doing here?”

Yes. In front of us was the same familiar tall aloof woman with terrible posture (seriously, that hunched look couldn’t have been good for her back). Shoulder length strawberry blonde, round glasses. Yes, I know. It could’ve been like, alternate version. But…

“Guys? How did you get here?” She asked, her eyes wide, all astonished.

Once Velvet heard the confirmation she needed, she got all excited and started jumping up.

“We did it! We defeated The Flashbulb! You were right, which sucked, we couldn’t save our world, but I mean, we accomplished one impossible thing, and there’s a new timeline somewhere out there now. We didn’t just wanna stay there, all lonesome, so we decided to look for a timeline we weren’t already in. Y’know, to not kill ourselves or whatever. I know you wanted us to protect Juniper, but we couldn’t take her with us, as there was already a version of her here, and really, it was her idea not to come along, so please don’t be too mad at her.”

She stood, stunned. Most likely trying to take everything in.

“Well, that sure was long winded,” Verse remarked at last. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Aw, c’mon! We missed you! Is that any way to treat your friends?”

“No, but, how did you find me?”

“Oh, we met Trent and he told us Juniper lived here, so we’re surprised to find you instead. Not disappointed, though.”

I glanced behind Verse and there stood Juniper, near the door. Same old chipper pigtail self.

“Uh…” I tugged at Velvet’s sleeve.

“Oh! Juniper’s here too!” Velvet waved with utter excitement, then turned back to Verse. “So Verse, what happened to seeing your wife?”

In the background I could hear Juniper snicker.

“Guys…” Verse began, but Velvet didn’t give her much time. That, and she looked rather uncomfortable, so I wasn’t sure if she would have said anything else anyway.

“Yeah, I get it. Relationships can be tough. So lemme guess: things didn’t work out between you two, but Juniper took you in and let you crash at her place?”

“Guys…” This time she sounded annoyed and she spoke through grit teeth.

Velvet got silent and everyone else was silent. But that silence didn’t last, as Juniper broke into laughter.

“I don’t know what’s going on but this is too much!” She had her hands on her knees and couldn’t stop. We all turned our attention toward Juniper. Verse as well, and she balked.

“Babe! Can’t you explain for me?” She threw her hands down and her face got red.

“Babe?” Velvet and I asked in unison, the both of us confused as hell. Then I think it clicked for the both of us at the same time. “Ohhh…”

“No, no! It’s okay!” Juniper continued laughing, then teased. “Verse.”

Verse, or whatever her name was, hung her head low and walked back into the apartment in utter embarrassment. Then, Juniper walked over and welcomed us.

“Hey, come on, in! Why not?”

We walked inside and I plopped down on the sofa. Arms crossed, I already made myself at home. It was a humble little apartment, dimmed lights, blinds down. Very little in the way of decoration or furniture.

Our embarrassed old friend sat at a chair across from me, her hands in her face. Guess it must’ve been too much to take in at once.

“So I suppose I should give you two the rundown. My name’s not Verse, it’s Ves. Short for Vesuvius,” she told Velvet and I once she composed herself. “Juniper and I are, well, you know.”

“Damn, that sure explains why you were acting so funky when we met you,” Velvet remarked.

“Well, there were other reasons for back then, too...sorry about that.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it,” Velvet brushed it off.

“You can make it up to us by letting us crash at your guys’ place,” I butted in. “Otherwise, we gotta sleep out on the streets and are you sure you want that?”

“Um…” I could tell how hesitant about it was, I mean, we just barged right in and decided it was our city now. I get it.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m letting these people I just met stay with us!” Juniper remarked.

“You don’t have to,” Ves argued.

“Oh, no. We’re gonna. Now, who wants quiche?”

So it was decided, and even though I didn’t know what ‘keesh’ was, I still accepted. Hell, it was cool that we got to sleep on a couch. True couchsurfing at its best right there.

Once the night came to an end and the other couple went to bed, Velvet and I slept on each other on the couch. She remarked about the day as a whole before falling asleep.

“You know, this isn’t the worst possible outcome.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

#short story #gift for a friend #jk theres not a honeymoon #happiness overload #remoras full #crossover #memes #happy new year #all that jazz

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digitalnomadic · 5 years ago

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I had many odd and crazy dreams last night. I've been having then frequently and so lucid that I can remember them. Obscure, different, and strange for then all but I remember them.

Today I had a dream of a society that functioned very smoothly and well. I was a new member of it somehow, just appeared inside it in confusion. It was almost a chaotic one, as people were going everywhere really fast but smoothly flew through each other and never made contacts. Like a New York or Chinese or Indian busy crosswalk intersection. Cars, people walking, bikes, etc.

Then, as I was walking there was a scream and panic at one house i was near. I ran to see what was happening. It was this about a kid. The people around him kept saying that he keeps killing himself and they were worried for him. You could tell the people were distraught. At the same time, there were these (1-2 or 3) little white/blue orbs of light that circled the people's head who were panicked.

As I kept finding this kid I followed him around. He would start off with or without the orbs, but either way they eventually kept coming out of his until he was so distraught by them that he would again kill himself. Sometimes he would do it in public places to try and get a reaction out of people, because even though he was scared he wanted help. He didn't like or want the orbs. He couldn't understand them and didn't know why they were there. When there were too many around him is when he would act crazy and commit suicide.

He shot himself in the head a few times in front of people to see if or how they reacted, but he couldn't figure it out. He couldn't make it (the orbs coming out of his head, and so many of them) out. I remember that one time he shot himself in the head, it was in front of a cashier during checkout. The cashier didn't care he had then. She had a smile on. She then had no reaction to it happening in front of her and was staring right at him also. Holding a smile. As if he didn't exist. It was striking. Then, I noticed that she didn't have any orbs floating around her head. I wondered if this mattered.

That's when it hit me. Everyone who reacted to his death and who saw and screamed from it all had at least an orb or two floating around their heads... but I didn't.

While I was investigating the town, cause with was this place, I noticed an electric blue wall/fence looking thing that surrounded the town. I followed it to see if it was just like a fence line. I noticed in one part of the fence there was a house. The fence ran horizontally through the door of the house. A nice big house with a pretty large front yard. Taking a risk, I put my hand through the blue barrier and onto the door hoping not to get shocked or killed. I wasn't, and the door was unlocked and open.

There was a lady (middle aged/a little older) to the left who was dusting/cleaning her house. She didn't notice me at first until I started walking through the house. Immediately, I went to the kitchen and she started following me and who I was and what I was doing. I kept telling her to back up and stay back. To not to get too close (within arms length) to me (for my own safety). That's because I wanted to find a knife or some protection from her. At first, I found a bbq fork poker thing, but as she was trying to get closer slowly with that I finally found a knife in the correct drawer.

I told her some of the things going on and asked why it was happening. She didn't budge at first until I threatened her from my own fear. She then brought me to this vertical rectangle on the wall that was actually on the right, behind her right shoulder. I saw walked past it while going into the kitchen and didn't even notice it. Almost no bigger or wider than a foam soap dispenser in a bathroom, but a little longer vertically. It looked like a nice piece of technology while the house was normal. There were three smooth horizontally rectangular buttons (holographic light buttons) at the bottom of the front face that looked like it controlled 3 different settings. One setting was the blue field so maybe it could be made dangerous or taller idk, one was for the orbs (to control the settings on them), and the third was for I guess turning it all off.

She then proceeded to tell me that people with orbs cannot go through the blue barrier. People without might be able to but they do not think they can and never have really tried or have even gone to her house like I did. Even she thought maybe they couldn't cause she's never seen it happen before. She then went on to say the box controls the field, the orbs, and the on/off switch. She said that the orbs come out of peoples head and circles it whenever they have committed a bad act (I believe for society), but that if you commit an equally good act, they go back inside you. That if you get too many of them outside your head you usually panic and do what the kid kept doing to himself. (Although I noticed there was one on kid panicking even though a saw quite a few people with orbs who were not, and no one knew how to make them go back inside their head).

Then it hit me, the kid didn't know that he could keep the orbs from coming out or how to get then back into his body. He was confused and panicked at the sight about them coming out.

She then explained to me that it was a way for society to become more altruistic and autonomous, which is why the crazy traffic of the town never collided and why everyone who didn't have orbs were always doing things perfectly and "happily". Even those who had them (except the kid).

The box was a control of society.

I argued that she should turn it off. That was the third button on the box. She said no. She has always seen it on, and that she believed it should always stay on. I then kept going towards her with the knife so I could get closer to the box, and she was becoming erratic to not let me turn it off.

Aaaaaaaand right before I got to the box and button some douchebag on a loud af motorcycle rode by my window red lining his bike and I couldn't finish the dream.

Feels like some Black Mirror or Stephen King shit.

I do not give anyone permission to use this idea or any idea within it for profit or for its use in movies, books, etc. without my permission and the rights to it. If so, I will take legal action.

Cause this shit is lit and could make a badass movie.

#me #dream #lucid dreaming #dream apartment #movie #movie plot #movie idea #idea #ideas #new ideas #lucid #crazy

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myupostsheadcanons · 5 years ago

Text

Books “Read” in 2019

I am going to rank these by how much i enjoyed them vs. any actual literary quality. often well written books aren’t always the most entertaining books.

Note: i listen to many of these books at work, which is why i am able to go through so many of them in a year.

List from 2017 List from 2018

------- My Favs of the Year ----

Novels from The First Law:

Best Served Cold (#1), The Heroes(#3), Red Country(#4), Sharp Ends(#5).

A Little Hatred (#2) (Age of Madness, sequel to The First Law)

I read “The First Law Trilogy” about a year or two ago and finally got around to reading the rest of the books, just in time for a new series taking place in the same world to start up (Age of Madness) and now i am waiting like everybody else for the next two books to come out in 2020 and 2021. A Little Hatred shouldn’t be read as a stand alone, a lot of what goes on is dependent mainly on knowledge from the first trilogy and in The Heroes, then bits and pieces from Best Served Cold and Red Country. So much of your enjoyment of each book is based on what you’ve learned in other ones (character development or seemingly useless information being not so useless later).

Age of Legend (Book 4, Legend of the First Empire)

This is more-or-less an “aftermath” book where the main characters are still reeling about what happened in the previous book and are trying to make plans for what they are going to do next. I still like the characters and the world/setting it takes place in.

House of Assassins (Saga of the Forgotten Warrior, Book 2)

I’ve been waiting for the next book in this series to come out the second i finished the first book in the series. It is one of those Science fiction in the disguise of Fantasy settings and I am on the edge of my seat waiting to see how that plot/revelation comes out (I am certain that the location the story takes place is Earth, more specifically around Asia/India, but in a post-invasion apocalypse setting where nobody remembers anything prior to the invasion). I also really like how much of a badass Ashok is... i have a thing for emotionally stunted badass characters, especially when their flaws are held up to a mirror and have real consequences.

R. R. Haywood’s Worldship Humility & Extinct (Extracted, Book 3)

I love the way Haywood writes characters and dialog. I was at-first iffy about WSH, but was won over after i warmed up to the new characters.

Shades of Magic Trilogy (A Darker Shade of Magic, A Gathering of Shadows, A Conjuring of Shadows)

Solid multi-verse and magic system world. Well-written characters, some minor nitpicks on plot points, but can be easily ignored. LGBTQ rep, the gays don’t stay buried.

“Don’t you have enough [knives]?” “You can never have too many.” [me, every time: LOL]

One of the few times when a character deserves a redemption arc, doesn’t really get one, dies, and i am perfectly fine with it because it is done well.

Assassin’s Fate (Fitz and the Fool, Book 3)

I read this one in book-book form, but i already knew most of the emotionally painful parts of the book by spoiling it to myself when it first came out a couple years ago. The main appeal is the inner monologues of the two main characters, even if like 50% of this trilogy is basically spending weeks/months trying to go from Point A to Point B, when many other books would have glossed over the details of travel.. but you can really feel the stress as they dwell in their thoughts and struggles.

Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles & Circe

Re-Imagining of the Iliad and The Odyssey. Focusing not on the characters of Achilles or Odysseus, but on Petroclus (Achilles’ lover) and Circe the sea nymph witch that Odysseus had an affair and child with.

The Spear of the Stars (Cycle of Galand, Book 5)

Still love Dante and Bleys... This is where they really get into the meat of world building and solving the mysteries of the Arawn Cycle (the book/bible) and peel back the layers of their reality.

Dust (Silo Book 3)

A great ending to a good series, it answers whether or not humanity can or has survived what had caused them to be locked away in the silos.

Blackthorn and Grim (Dreamer’s Pool, Tower of Thorns, Den of Wolves)

I like the premise of the books, the two main characters first seeking out revenge, but end up wanting to become better people due to magic shenanigans.... One part Fantasy, One Part Mystery, One Part Lovestory.

The Dispatcher (Audible Free Book)

I want a whole series based off this novella. It is John Scalzi so he can write a good story. I had previously read Android’s Dream by him, which it didn’t make it into my top-10 that year, but was still decent, even if the subject matter was a bit gross... The Dispatcher world is a Sci-Fi Noir, not quite Cyberpunk, where people don’t die by anything other than natural causes. The Dispatcher’s job is to kill people before something goes does wrong and the person “resets” to when they where safe and sound.

---- this is the “Above Average” Zone ----

All the Pretty Horses & Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West

The master of bleak and depressing fiction. if regular Dark Fiction isn’t enough for you.... there is Cormac McCarthy books. Get use to the “purple prose” that fills up pages with no dialog.

The Golem and the Jinni

Supernatural world of the far past dealing with Edwardian New York and Immigration. It not only is a “fish out of water” story of the two main characters trying to fit in with society but they are among communities that are also new to America and trying to find their own place in the world. There are love subplots but most of those kind of fizzle out.

The Axe and the Throne: Bounds of Redemption Vol. 1.

“Discount First Law” book... it is lacking the dark humor that made TFL series far more entertaining. This was also the book that was prefaced by warning people about how grim and dark the setting was... Hahahaha. I still found it entertaining none the less, and hope the rest would show up on audible soon.

Black Snow, White Crow (Audible Free Book)

Another one of those short stories that should have a larger saga to its name. Fantasy Industrial Punk. It has the whole equality role reversal thing going on, it isn’t done quite as well as Left Hand of Darkness (but that book leaned onto the boring side of things).

Stephen King’s IT, Pet Semetary, and Carrie

It’s Stephen King. Classic King. Not much else to say.

Watership Down

Depressing Rabbit Book. Though I did like all the stories and mythology the rabbits had.

Bloody Acquisitions (Fred the Vampire Accountant, Book 3)

A series that is always fun to listen to. I wish the audio books were cheaper because they are rather short.

Lethal White (Cormoran Strike, Book 4)

shuddup, i don’t care if it is Rowling... i have a low-key crush on Cormoran.... he just hits that big-burly tragic-backstory man-shaped soft-spot of mine. These stories are also her “for adults” writings so... expect more racism and garbage values.

The Eye of the World (Book 1, Wheel of Time)

Classic set up to a long running series, though i am reluctant to go further as the middling books in this series are said to drag out the story too much.... It’s not as self-centered as Wizard’s First Rule and the characters are more relatable and stick to their fantasy tropes. This is the “mold” that other modern fantasy try to subvert by going “darker and edgier.”

The Exorcist

If you like the movie, read the book. There is a lot of back story that the movie wasn’t able to adapt.

---- This is the “AVERAGE, but Still Good” Zone ---

The Iliad and The Odyssey

Classics. I am still on the hunt for an unabridged version of Jason and the Argonauts story. I also have Virgil’s Aeneid in my wishlist to get too soon.

Phillipa Gregory’s Plantagonate Novels (The Lady of the Rivers, The Red Queen, White Queen, The Kingmaker’s Daughter)

Sometimes it is like reading the same book 5x in a row. other times you end up not liking the previous protagonist in a book you just finished reading because of how the current protagonist sees them from their POV.

Return of the King (Lord of the Rings, Book 3)

Read the other books last year and didn’t get around to this one for a few months.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Fuck... I’m a janitor... why can’t i afford a house? If you liked Stephen King’s “IT” go back and read this book.

Alien Franchise Dramatizations: Alien: Sea of Sorrows, Alien: The Cold Forge (Audible Free Book) Alien III (Audible Free Book)

I don’t mind that they all are done with a full cast. Though often I end up wanting to find the actual book and listen to them with just one narrator and descriptions.

The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (Narnia, Book 1)

I would like to get the rest of the books in this series, but for books that are only 5-7 hours long they want 20$ a book for them. It needs to go into an omnibus.

Stephen Fry’s Victorian Secrets (Audible Free Book)

It’s Stephen Fry... he’s funny and a good narrator.

Wizard’s First Rule (Book 1, Sword of Truth)

I don’t like Richard. He started off alright, but even before he got tortured 2/3rds into the book, i was starting to dislike his personality. Other than that, the side characters and world are solid, but it was like taking an R-rated movie and cutting it down for TV. There is somethings that are vaguely described when i am use to harder fiction like ASoIaF, The First Law, Dresden, and McCarthy books actually describing those things.

Halloween (2018, movie novel)

Like I said when i first read the book, it would’ve benefited by a second re-write before being published. But, i like the movie and so I liked the book.

Don Quixote

Another classic read. I did find it hilarious that the Author spent a good chunk of the second book complaining about Fanfiction of his own book... in the 1600′s.

The Princess Diarist

I listened this book instead of going to see TROS. worth it.

Smoke Gets in Your eyes: And other Lessons from the Crematorium

Non-Fiction, If you want to know the ins and outs of the funeral business and get told in an informative yet non-clinical way with lots of tidbits and history facts tossed in as well as a semi-autobiographical account of the Author’s life.

--- These Books are “Alright” ---

Frank L. Baum’s Wizard of Oz books

I ligit got into an argument with a 70yo man in a comic book shop about how Canon the other Oz books were post Baum’s death. He was looking for Oz comic books and I brought up reading the first 14 books, and he’s like “There’s over 100 of them” and i was all “but all those are written by somebody else.” and he got all “they are still canon...”

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

If you want to know about the In//cel ideology in a classic literary form, this fits the bill. So much man pain.

A Christmas Carol (Tim Curry) (Audible Free Book)

Tim Curry, guys.....

The Poetic Edda (Norse God Mythology)

I listened this book twice. I bought two Edda books thinking I’d get some extra content, but no... same book just different production teams and readers. Returned the one with the worst translation.

Treasure Island (Audible Free Book, dramatization)

I need to read the actual book sometime, but i did like the cast and thought they did a good job.

Wally Roux, Quantum Mechanic (Audible Free Book)

A YA coming of age story about diversity and acceptance... with wacky science fiction.

Carmilla (Audible Free Book, dramatization)

The vampire before Dracula. Victorian Lesbian love story.

Even Tree Nymphs get the Blues (Audible Free Book)

A novella from one of those “love on the Bayou” romance series with supernatural creatures. Could practically take place in the same world of either True Blood, Dresden, or Fred the Vampire Accountant.

Mystwick School of Musicraft (Audible Free Book)

Harry Potter lite. For 10yo girls.

A Grown-up’s Guide to Dinosaurs (Audible Free Book)

I like dinosaurs.

Rivals! Frenemies Who Changed the World (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)

Interesting way on telling us about the Fossil Wars and Puma vs. Adidas.

True-Crime from Audible: Body of Proof (Audible Free Book), Midnight Son (Audible Free Book), The Demon Next Door (Audible Free Book), Killer By Nature (Audible Free Book)

Why is True-Crime or YA fiction the only halfway-decent things Audible is giving us? But yeah, these are basically the type of reporting that the two journalists from Halloween were trying to do. Where they go around and gather up information about semi-famous cases and present it in a Podcast-like format.

---- Meh... ---

Camp Red Moon (Audible Free Book)

Would’ve been better if they were actually written by R. L. Stein.

More Bedtime Stories for Cynics (Audible Free Book)

No... half of these aren’t written very well.

The Darkwater Bride (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)

The setting is nice, but it is far too .... Soap Opera Dramatic.

Junk (Audible Free Book)

A cross between Alien Invasion and Zombie outbreak, read by John Waters and written as if it was a bad version of a Philip K. Dick Novel.

Rip Off!! (Audible Free Book)

Most of them are duds and boring. I don’t even remember half of them without having to look them up. The two that stood out the most for me where the “Other Darren/Bewitched” and the “Dark and Stormy Night” stories, the rest were rather garbled.

--- Garbage... ---

Dodge and Twist (Audible Free Book, Dramatization)

No, you are not being edgy or kool.

Unread:

Siege Tactics (Spells, Swords, & Stealth. Book 4)

Triumphant (Genesis Fleet, Book 3)

Earthsea (Tehanu and Tales from Earthsea, i am going to re-listen to the first three before i get to these)

Into the Wilds (Warriors, Book 1)

Pout Neuf (Audible Free Book)

House of Teeth (Audible Free Book)

Viva Durant and the Secret of the Silver Buttons (Audible Free Book)

The Other Boleyn Girl (Phillipa Gregory)

#the first law #legend of the first empire #saga of the forgotten warrior #realm of the elderlings #a darker shade of magic #the song of achilles #john scalzi #r. r. haywood #Cycle of Galand #blackthorn and grim #myu reads #long post

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years ago

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Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Beth!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character ARTEM TREBLAY with the faceclaim of Kristen Stewart! We enjoyed how to incorporated the game-canon veela lore into your application, while also keeping Artem within their own person. We’re very interested in having a character on the dash that is a bit controversial in relationship to the Order, especially with the most recently mission failing. We’re looking forward to seeing Artem’s decisions regarding this and appreciated your attention to detail throughout your application.

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Beth

AGE: 24

TIMEZONE: CST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: You can see my current activity with Sirius. I will dip slightly once the semester kicks back in, but I don’t think I will struggle.

ANYTHING ELSE: Nothing here.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Artem Nikita Tremblay – When Artem was ready to rid themself of their family’s influence, they didn’t initially know where to begin on a new name that felt more like them. They threw themselves into researching Slavic names for a piece of family origin to replace the British feminine name they’d been saddled with. Artem felt fitting for a few reasons. It sounded nice, it means “unharmed” which they’d like to pretend they escaped as, and it was a dedication to Artemis. As a child, they’d often heard to be ladylike, and Artemis quickly because their favorite example of a badass lady who didn’t sit still and let things be done to her. She was active, a hunter, and uninterested in becoming a perfect wife. All of that seemed perfect to Artem. Nikita was another neutral name they found and liked for a middle name. When possible, they put “Artem Nikita” as their full name and drop their family name.

AGE: 27 (December 14, 1954)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY:

Agender; Prefers both he/him and they/them and would accept other pronouns as long as the user avoids she/her; Sexually Fluid, but Artem is apprehensive to follow through with the attraction he feels. He has a complicated relationship with his body and isn’t in a hurry to bring someone else into the mix. He’s had some experiences with kissing and intimacy but never with heavy touching or clothing removal because he’s never trusted anyone enough to take further steps.

Gender is a complex notion for Artem tied up in his veela heritage. I’m going to quote Ky from a conversation we had about the character as someone “in whom you’ve worked together a disconnect with their assigned gender and with their veela heritage/aspects, when both that assigned gender and veela heritage/aspects are valued for qualities, physical, emotional, etc, that Artem doesn’t feel at home in.” Artem’s perception of being female is very tied to the traditionally feminine values of pureblood society, and while he has worked to disconnect them in adulthood, he is still working past the connection society places on that femininity and his veela heritage. Both are expected to be charming, graceful, beautiful, serene, and docile unless pushed to the point of breaking. Artem doesn’t want to be any of that, and in rejecting that narrow feminine mold, he also rejected being veela. The difference is that while Artem is not female and has since learned to see other aspects of womanhood in people who don’t fit his mother’s ideals, he cannot fully split himself from being veela because he is whether he likes it or not.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-Veela

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor—Not so much the chivalry, but they’re bold and brash and won’t sit idly if there’s something they can do

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Artem has spent a lot of time figuring out how to be comfortable in his own skin. Artem was sick of being underestimated by people who took one look at him and assumed he couldn’t hold his own. Artem was determined to change that. They started working out religiously, and once they had the opportunity, they began boxing in a muggle club and got good at it. If people commented on their perception of Artem as female, well, Artem hit those people harder to give them the embarrassment of being not only beaten but beaten soundly by someone they saw as a girl. The regulars didn’t care. The regulars saw Artem as a badass who didn’t like to lose, and they could respect that. He liked the way it felt to fight, to be in control of his own body and his situation. He liked being respected, and being able to defend himself the muggle or magical way has been a huge step forward for him.

He’s still not to 100% comfort, but he’s in a much better place than he used to be. Even when they were struggling most, though, Artem met life with strong determination and confidence. They’d like to believe they can talk their way out of any situation without using veela charm, and while they will get out of it without charm, they’re more likely to turn to a punch or a hex as a means of escape. Still, they have a strong sense of self-preservation and are pretty good about reading a room and getting out of a situation before it goes south. Unless they open their mouth.

When Artem has a good line, he’ll usually say it first and then have to deal with the consequences. Because of this, he’s had to work hard to develop to develop better control. Couple with his tendency to keep people at a distance to avoid rejection, he comes off as quite aloof at times. He doesn’t open up easily because even the people he trusts have hurt him so much. Even when he lets people close, it’s usually while he is serving some kind of role. For example, he has close work relationships with a few of the dancers, but that is while he plays protector, not while he strips the layers away. He has a hard time being vulnerable around people and is okay with that. People don’t need to see his vulnerability.

In a fit of anger at someone making veela comments in class seventh year, Artem marched back up to his dorm, borrowed a classmate’s razer and shaved his head. It was incredibly freeing, and they’ve kept it shaved ever since, one less signal to the world of their veela heritage. Their mother cried when she saw them at Christmas. Artem returned the small collection of decorative combs she’d slowly been passing over. While it further damaged their relationship with their mother, that moment and the resulting calm was proof to Artem that they maybe did want to be more masculine. If taking on a “male” haircut made them feel good, why couldn’t they do that in general? In those early days, Artem bought Polyjuice and used it to try out being different people to see how it felt. They only impersonated a woman once, and the lack of muscle definition that they’d work so hard to create made them end up shaking in a corner until it wore off. They’d been trying to figuring out what it would be like to be comfortable with their prettiness. Clearly that didn’t work because Artem got the woman’s body but not her confidence in it. They were still themself. They used the rest of the Polyjuice to try out being different cismen, but even those moments only reinforced to Artem that they didn’t want that for themself. They missed the comfort they had in their own skin, and the change in anatomy felt foreign and wrong. Clearly masculinity and the things associated with it are a cloak Artem likes to wear, but the male body is not.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

The Tremblay family was once incredibly offended to be left out of the Sacred 28, but a recent halfblood in one branch of the family was enough to exclude them. They have since continued to married in some halfbloods when they haven’t been considered good enough for pureblood matches, but most family members would argue they should be considered pureblood. They have the money and the influence of a proper pureblood family but not quite the title.

Pearce and Alanna Tremblay both came from highly respected families. Alanna technically married down from her pureblood family because the Burke’s pureblood claim is still substantiated from that golden list the Tremblays didn’t make, but she didn’t consider it a step down. Pearce and Alanna were not a love match by any means, but their partnership has always been one of close fondness, and they quickly grew to love each other.

The couple had power and a lot of inherited money, but they initially had trouble conceiving and carrying a child to term. When Alanna finally gave birth to Douglas, they were elated and initially said they would be done having children, despite both wanting a large family. When she accidentally became pregnant five years later, Alanna refused to put her own health first, and she and Pearce began planning for the perfect little girl to add to their family.

Instead they got Ellwood. On one hand, it was more reassurance of their family line because they now had two male heirs to carry on the family line. On the other, they really wanted their perfect little girl. Pearce suggested perhaps they add to their family through more unconventional means that both wouldn’t be hard on Alanna’s body and would promise them their perfect little girl: they could adopt a halfveela. It was surprisingly simple to adopt internationally from Yugoslavia, and soon they had their beautiful child who Alanna proceeded to groom into all the refinement and expectations of a proper pureblood lady, never letting the child forget how much simpler it all was when blessed with veela gifts like grace, charm, and beauty that most pureblood girls would kill for.

That child wasn’t a girl, though, pureblood or otherwise. It took a long time for Artem to figure out exactly why they felt so uncomfortable with their mother’s expectations, and in some ways, they’re still parsing it out. All Artem knew for sure was that he felt the freest when allowed to run along behind his brothers. He and Ellie got into all kinds of trouble together, trouble than Douglas was quick to tattle about. Although it had taken a couple years for the Tremblay’s paperwork to clear and for all the proper money to be given where it needed to, Artem came to them as a toddler only a few months younger than Ellwood. When they eventually reached Hogwarts, the two were in the same year, although Ellwood went to Hufflepuff; neither of them followed Douglas’ lead into Slytherin.

It was to Ellie that Artem first admitted their confusion about not feeling like a girl but also not feeling like a boy. Ellie was also confused but mostly supportive, and he joined them in the library to find any scrap of information about people like Artem. He was with them as they tried out new names that felt more comfortable, and he stood by their side when in the summer after sixth year, they finally told Douglas. Douglas didn’t take it well and further alienated his sibling by immediately telling their parents and taking away Artem’s ability to do so. That led to shouting from all five family members and crying from everyone except Douglas. Artem had never seen their father cry before, and they pulled him into a tight hug as he bumbled through apologies for anything he’d ever done to hurt them. Alanna never apologized. Artem didn’t expect her to. Douglas never apologized either. Artem pretends not to care.

Contrary to their fears of family rejection, Artem was not thrown out by their family. Their mother hasn’t quite forgiven him for rejecting her teachings and gifted name, but even she is happy to have him stop by for dinner (although she frequently slips on both name and pronouns). The rest of his family still supports him, but Artem really doesn’t want anything to do with them, especially when he knows everyone except Ellie uses his deadname when he isn’t around to argue about it). He’s rejected his family over and over, only crawling back when he’s really scraped for money. The one person he sees somewhat regularly is Ellie, who still meets Artem for coffee once a week like clockwork. The only person he avoids unless absolutely necessarily is Douglas. Artem can’t bring himself to forgive his brother, and Ellie agrees that it’s justified.

OCCUPATION: Artem is a bouncer at Ganymede’s Gentleman’s Club. They got the job because the owners liked the idea of a veela being able to intervene in many situations to handle them discreetly. That said, Artem doesn’t use their charm ever if they can help it. Most of the time at work, they wouldn’t want to anyway. Why charm someone who cheated at cards into leaving when Artem can drag them out by their collar instead? And on the same token, Artem isn’t going to do anything to make more pleasant the throwing out of someone who tried to take advantage of a dancer. That person is going to wake up outside by the street with a splitting headache and a new black eye.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Artem had heard whisper of the Order for years, of course, and while Connor thought he was sneaky, using the rooms a sort of halfway house was bound to attract a little attention. Even before they’d really known why, they’d helped cover for his guests. As of a few months ago, Artem began hearing whispers of the Order helping relocate werewolves trying to avoid You-Know-Who. That was the final step for them as Artem decided they couldn’t stand by any longer.

Artem doesn’t necessarily like or even trust the Order, but if they win, the most likely outcome is that nothing changes in the abysmal way halfbreeds are treated. If the Death Eaters win, though, Artem knows the likelihood of being treated like absolute dirt or even chased out of England is high. It was a calculated risk of standing by and waiting for things to get worse or at least trying to keep things steady. They have no illusions about any of these human wix caring about them, as is proven by comments lumping in all halfbreeds with werewolves. Artem doesn’t necessarily have problems with werewolves (although he hates that they are able to pretend most of the time to be normal and to have people not immediately point to their hair or grace or beauty as othering things), but he will not pretend that their needs are the same as his. They aren’t even close.

The botched mission at the Nott Estate confirmed some of Artem’s worst fears: that the Order doesn’t really know what they’re doing and that they’re losing badly. He’s stuck here for now, but he’s already looking for an escape route. He wants to help, but not at his own expense. He’s not sticking his neck out to protect humans who don’t care about him.

SURVIVAL:

Complicated as things are, Artem loved his family, even Douglas. That said, he’s always put himself first since before he graduated from Hogwarts. For those first few years, Artem disappeared into the muggle world and barely checked in with Ellie, much less anyone else. When he realized he missed magic too much to stay away, Artem came crawling back with a little resentment that he ended up back at home for a few months while he figured out a new apartment and wizarding job. His mother was appalled when he started working at Ganymede’s. That only made it better.

Artem isn’t the best with money, but they can be mostly self-sufficient. They’re blessed that even when their family doesn’t approve of Artem’s choices, Artem can still stop by when things get tight and he’s looking for a new place. Currently he lives in an apartment above a shop in Diagon Alley, but it’s a place he doesn’t really spend a ton of time. They don’t really bring people over much, partially because Artem doesn’t like people to feel that familiar with them if they can help it, but it isn’t a complete disaster.

Should things go south with the Order, Artem does believe they could probably disappear again into the muggle world. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve vanished.

RELATIONSHIPS:

AINSLEY ABBOTT: Artem never quite knew how to classify Ainsley, and he appreciated her greatly for it. They’d met for the first time in the Hogwarts Library because she was in the middle of some grand theory that her audience clearly didn’t care about. Artem listened carefully from over by the stacks, and at the end of her theory, went, “But what about…” and completely undermined her idea. She loved it, and the two soon developed of habit of spiraling back and forth. Artem couldn’t begin to keep up on the theories, but he loved to argue and could logic his way through most. Ainsley is one of the few people he lets win.

CONFIDENCE BROWN. Artem figured he would gain some friends through work, but he never expected to get along so well with someone that they’d call him their work spouse. But that’s the case with Connor. Connor is also one of the few people that Artem will fully loosen up around. Connor’s habit of flirting with everyone means that he’s a harmless person to banter with, and Artem is able to keep some of those conversation skills alive through empty flirting with Connor. Plus, Connor’s flair for dramatics means that he keeps people happy. He’s the kind of person Artem likes to be around.

CARADOC DEARBORN. Artem had always been used to trailing after Ellwood, and while they had their own friends at Hogwarts, it was hard to adjust to giving him up to people like Caradoc. Through Ellie, Caradoc and Artem did spend some time together, but they were never really friends. Ellie had asked Artem after they’d settled on “not-girl” pronouns if he could share that information with Caradoc, and while it had made Artem apprehensive, they had agreed. It’s with a certain fondness now that they recall Caradoc never messing up once he knew.

JAMES POTTER and LUCINDA TALKALOT. Artem only barely remembered James or Lucinda at all before joining the Order. They’d been kids together technically, forced to go to the same boring social events by their parents, but Artem had a few years on both that made it hard to relate. They did end up stuck together sometimes by simple nature of being somewhat close in age, although Artem was happy to let Ellwood have James. Ellie was good at accepting tagalongs, even if it did hurt when the mood became boys only. Sometimes they resented the mothers pushing Artem and Lucinda together, but at least Luci wasn’t the simpering little thing she could have been. As an adult, Artem doesn’t know how to feel about James being one of the decisionmakers for the Order when she still remembers him as a little kid with big eyes and unruly hair. His hair is still unruly. Her feelings about Lucinda aren’t quite as strong, but in many ways, it’s like starting over.

ARCHIBALD MACMILLAN. Artem has never liked Archie, and it’s not his fault. As a child, Artem was constantly reminded of their future duties as a perfect pureblood wife, and because they were the same age and would attend Hogwarts together, Archie was a common target for their mother’s musing. He was pureblood and seemed like the kind of person Artem could easily persuade. When the two were thrown together, it was always awkward and stiff, and it came to a great relief to Artem when his attention fixed on Isla. He may have called her a best friend, but Artem saw the writing on the wall long before their engagement was public. If they still resent him a little, well, it’s because Artem still has to hear from their mother how they squandered that opportunity.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Artem/Chemistry for sure. I will reiterate that sex is a complicated thing for Artem, and he is likely to avoid any kind of physicality unless he trusts someone completely.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Artem’s spent the last ten-ish years in the process of trying to untwine their hatred for the being halfveela from the very specific lens of what it means to be female that was shoved down their throat as a child. They will never truly be able to separate them completely, although Artem is at a place where they can acknowledge that female means a lot of things beyond that narrow definition. The halfveela traits are harder to get around because if being female means more than being the perfect pureblood lady, being halfveela seems to immediately point back to that. Veela beauty, charm, grace, elegance… These are all things Artem has worked and worked on to try and overcome. He has these things naturally and doesn’t want them because they point back to that person he has never been.

Other people seem to have a harder time overlooking those Veela traits, though, and Artem has had to put up with a lot of it. He’s watched as halfveela are held up as a positive example but only seen them being pushed down in practice. The worst days at Ganymede’s are when he steps in to escort out some drunk asshole who assumes the pretty veela boy is available. The first time it happened, Artem beat the man bloody and almost got hired. His boss chewed him out to no end, and when Artem explained what had happened to defend himself, he was told that was to be expected for someone like him.

Unsurprisingly Artem doesn’t trust fully human wix in the slightest. Humans always put themselves first, and Artem isn’t about to do differently. They won’t go out of their way to avoid people, but they definitely try not to put themself in potentially harmful situations that they can’t fight their way out of. They’ve heard more than empty promises about making life better for halfbreeds, and it often isn’t anything actually helpful to them personally. In some ways, Artem is sympathetic to muggleborns, but he doesn’t overly care about their situation. Obviously he grew up in a household where pureblood and high halfblood wix were held up as the shining standard, but he didn’t hear a lot of direct hate. He’s ambivalent in a world that says it’s impossible not to have an opinion, but Artem has bigger battles.

Artem wouldn’t consider themself prejudice against werewolves, but they’ve got some resentment. On one hand, Artem isn’t usually called a monster. Veela are vilified sometimes, but it’s not the excessive demonizing rhetoric that werewolves have. They know most werewolves probably consider halfveela lucky. But werewolves only change one night a month. The rest of the time they can hide. Artem has never wanted anything so desperately as the ability to just stop being halfveela, to no longer have people stare at them on the streets. Artem can’t hide being halfveela, and werewolves can hide their affliction just fine most of the time. They may all be considered halfbreeds, but their needs are not the same.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I have a lot of passionate for this character and can’t wait to see how their personality meshes on the dash, especially when they have a lot of potential to clash and kind of sort of want some closer people in their life.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: I would love to see some kind of anti-veela or anti-halfbreed sentiment stirring up trouble.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Headcanon: Artem’s current wand is their second. When Artem and their mother went shopping for school supplies that first time, their mother insisted that Artem only be given wands with veela hair cores. None were particularly strong, and the wandmaker tried to talk her out of it. She refused, and Artem ended up with a temperamental wand that they never quite understood. That following summer, Artem snapped the wand out of anger during an argument over their grades, declaring that if their mother had let a wand actually choose Artem, they would be able to control their magic just fine. After spending the summer unable to so much as go outside with Ellie, Artem was allowed to go wand shopping with no restrictions. The wand they ended up with was a short unyielding fir wand with a dragon heartstring core. It has never given them the problems that the veela wand did. Just one more reasons Artem is sure being a veela was never mend to be part of who they are.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/01iTQnHaK284S0AUpvlF6d?si=gEbeARfpSjqjlj6JWgJnOA

https://www.pinterest.com/myrpboards/artem-nikita/

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST: After giving birth to two perfectly good heirs but not quite being healthy enough to risk another pregnancy, the halfblood but highly regarded Tremblay family adopted a halfveela as a way to promise themselves a perfect daughter to raise to pureblood standards. Clearly some promises are meant to be broken because they got Artem, who grew up knowing that the expectations thrust on them were not what they wanted but not initially realizing why. Once at Hogwarts, Artem realized fully that they didn’t want to be a girl but that being a boy felt wrong too. Their brother Ellwood was always supportive of them, and even the rest of their traditional wannabe pureblood family reacted better than Artem would have expected. That didn’t stop them from disappearing after graduation. Artem plunged into the muggle world for a few years, and while it was an extreme culture shock, they ended up in the growing gay community of Muggle London. It was a good place to be with people who helped Artem feel like they didn’t belong in their own skin. That’s also where they picked up boxing, something that changed Artem’s life. They felt positively about their magic, but the physical ability to take action and feel capable no matter the situation or if they had a wand felt more freeing than anything. Technically Artem could have used their Veela charm in those situations, but Artem never used it if they could help it. They felt strong, physically and more mentally than they had in years, but it was time to acknowledge that they couldn’t stay away from the magical community where they had their roots. They missed too much.

PRESENT: Now that they are back in the magical world, Artem deals more directly with that Veela heritage they’ve always tried to ignore. Muggles usually couldn’t put into words those halfveela traits, if they noticed them at all. Wix aren’t like that, and as far as Artem in concerned, most are far too bold it pointing them out. Artem doesn’t really believe the magical community can do better, but they definitely believe it can do worse. They joined the Order not because they believed in it, but because they were more concerned by the idea that Voldemort might win. What they’ve seen thus far from the Order hasn’t instilled much confidence in Artem that he won’t win anyway. Artem is starting from the bottom as a newcomer, and they’re not sure how much people trust them. That said, they don’t necessarily want to rise. They want to show up, do what must be done, and get out of there. Occasionally based on things that are said, though, Artem can’t help wanting to interject and have more of a voice. They may not be the most dedicated Order member, but if they’re here, Artem is going to try and do things right.

FC CHOICES: In order of preference: Kristen Stewart, Brie Larson, Jamie Clayton, Asia Kate Dillon

I know Brie Larson and Kristen Stewart are both cisgender, but they are blonde (I’d be using Kristen’s more recent looks of the blonde pixie cut and shaved head), have an athletic look, and the right vibe that I’m going for. Brie has the toughness and easy confidence. Kristen has the general energy level and the perfect haircut. Asia Kate Dillon is nonbinary, and Jamie Clayton is a transgender woman. Between those two, I like Jamie’s energy a little bit better.

The trickiness with fcs is that Artem’s veela genetics means there is always going to be a certain level of what people associate as feminine beauty to them, no matter what they do. So they’re strong, have no hair, and generally dress in masculine clothing, but it does still happen that they are misgendered. The fc balance for that is something I’m toying with as to how to keep feminine features in a way that feels like his has the edges and physical strength needed. Brie seems to epitomize this the most, although Kristen’s hair is why I edged her slightly above in my preferences.

#homenumaccepted #hp rp #hp rpg #marauders rp #hp roleplay

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lassieposting · 7 years ago

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I’m in a ridiculously sappy mood so: the “oh no he’s hot”, the “am I crushing??”, and “I’m in love” moment for val and skul individually

alkdfhldskfhladskfhlkd bless u moonie this was exactly the kind of cute i needed today

this post is three pages in word but contains no capital letters and minimal punctuation rip

VAL

oh no he’s hot:

“I know you are not about to strike my partner” is a big one. like a lot of the time, val basically wants skulduggery to butt out, she can handle herself and she doesn’t need any guy standing up for her. however! angry alpha skul is Hot and she does also kinda need his support at that point so

also: when she sees him in his war gear. leather. thigh holster. big badass sword. like. val would be dtf wartime general skul, hands down

(also like. in any resurrection!au, time travel!au or whatever where skuldug has a body, bedhead!skuldug gives val life)

am i crushing?

i mean i feel like val has had a lowkey crush on skulduggery since like, age 13, and she’s always been aware of it, and she’s embarrassed about it, and she refuses to admit it to anyone, but

she starts actually accepting it after davina marr calls her out. like, actually having someone bring it up to her in conversation - and tbh, the fact that marr didn’t like. mock her for it or tell her how disgusting it is to crush on skuldug - kind of pushes her to confront her own feelings.

and like tbh because she’s so young at this point her biggest concern isn’t that he wouldn’t feel the same, bc she doesn’t expect him to. she knows at that age that skul is Unavailable & it takes fuckin years for her to actually think of him as like. a dude that she could possibly have. but it terrifies her that he wouldn’t take her seriously. like. someone telling skuldug about her crush and then having him burst out laughing at her or give her the patronising “it happens to us all” talk would mortify her. Nobody Can Ever Know

aaaaand then ofc he’s back and completely insane and she has like six months or whatever of looking after him to deal with and anything else kind of gets pushed out of her mind bc he needs her very badly right now and like. she’s so glad to have him back. even if he’s nuts, she doesn’t care. & his wellbeing is very much a priority for her and her teenage feelings are very much not, so she just sort of leaves it be

i’m in love

so like. the obvious one is when she thinks he’s about to die and they’re standing in front of the accelerator and she blurts out that she loves him, but tbh i feel like she’s more concerned with realising she’s about to lose him than with ~the sudden realisation of her feelings~ so like

i’m really fond of the idea that while she’s in meek ridge she like, occasionally gets very lonely and tries out one night stands and makes some very bad decisions on tinder and like. bc she’s a detective, over the five years she realises that a) her one-night stands seem to fit a pattern (tall, charming, attractive voice) and b) she doesn’t really get anything out of them? because they’re just…poor substitutes for skulduggery. and like. the sex is one thing but afterwards if they want to cuddle or talk or whatever she gets really avoidant and like. kicks them out. because it’s really hitting her now that she’s got her rocks off that they’re not skulduggery, skulduggery is like four thousand miles away and she’s all on her own and maybe he won’t even be talking to her when she comes back - if she comes back - because she abandoned him and like

idk man i just feel like her Feelings™ hit her really hard at that point and she ends up eating her weight in pop tarts while listening to all his old voicemail messages

and then get jazzy on it happens once she’s realised this

SKUL

oh no she’s hot

when he sees val in her requiem ball dress that he bought. she just like. he doesn’t need to breathe but she takes his non-existent breath away. like skuldug has seen val in her standard ‘work clothes’ and he’s also seen her in ratty sweats and a dublin football jersey bc she does sleep over at his by this point, even if she’s on the couch, but like. the last time he saw her in a nice dress she was what, 13? and pouting, bc she didn’t want to be there, and she didn’t want to be wearing a dress, and she was mad at him

so like all of a sudden here she is and she’s very much a Young Woman and she looks all elegant and shit and hes just

like the tongue he doesn’t have stops working it’s not pretty

and by the time she actually gets to him bc girls take ages to walk anywhere in high heels he’s sorted himself out enough to be all smooth with the “you’re always beautiful”

also. vile has a massive one of these the first time he gets to fight darquesse, bc vile is a fuckin sadomasochist of epic proportions and dq trying to literally kill him is Hot, apparently, and it becomes considerably more difficult for skulduggery to like. dodge his feelings after that. because vile is not subtle. at all. and after that every time someone mentions darquesse/val vile-in-the-back-of-skulduggerys-head gets all ~excited~ and skul has to try and hush him so he can focus and like. vile knows you lyin skulduggery why you always lyin

am i crushing??

honestly i feel like the first time he asks himself this is when he’s ass-deep in ball gowns at the most expensive store google could recommend to him, trying to find something for her to wear to the requiem ball. like? he knows her well enough at this point to work out a) what would suit her and b) what she would like, without ever having seen her in a super posh dress before but girl clothes are hard

and like. at some point in the middle of umm-ing and aah-ing over whether val would prefer a sweetheart neckline or a round one, he does kind of pause and go wait, am i…?

because this is the kind of thing he’s always done for the special lady in his life. he shows affection by spending ridiculous amounts of money - he remembers feeling just as out of his depth in a 1700s dress shop looking for something for his wife as he does now, shopping for valkyrie. (although at least things were done by measurements back then…what on earth is a ‘size 12′?)

but then the woman who’s been bringing him dresses for the past twenty minutes helpfully tells him the exorbitant price tag of the one he’s holding and points out that the young lady in question will also need shoes and (potentially) appropriate underwear and his wallet and his brain are both screaming but he wants val to feel like the prettiest girl in the room at the ball and he forgets all about it tbh bc he’s Stressed

it comes up again a year later while he’s getting his house done up for val, and this time, he takes it seriously. it’s costing him an inordinate amount of money, and he’s doing it purely so that he can spend more time with her. so that she can sleep in her own bed at his house, and make her own meals in the kitchen if she wants to, and not have to go home when she needs to shower. so that he can keep her with him when she’s hurt, where he knows she’s safe. so that he’s got like. the noise and clutter and all that nonsense that she brings into his home. he wants her to have a home with him.

and like. skul’s old. he’s been here before, he knows he’s got The Feelings. like he’s mad, bc he promised himself No More Feelings, but, eh. that is a lost battle.

and he’s been gently flirting with her since the requiem ball, but he’s doing his best to ignore that

i’m in love

when he goes to pick her up from america. he’s had five years of being…not quite right. and like, he knows it’s because val isn’t there with him, he knows he misses her, he knows he wishes she’d come home, but he doesn’t realise quite how badly he’s been doing until he’s on her front porch looking at her and she’s looking at him and everything just. falls right back into place. like he’s home now.

it’s the same feeling he used to get when he’d come home from the front and his wife’s face would just light up at the sight of him even though he hadn’t bathed properly in days or longer and he looked horrific

like she literally is his home at this point, he’d probably have done better if he’d gone to america with her rather than be without her for that long

(basically, everyone else knew skulduggery was in love before skulduggery did.)

#mooncactus #valdug #like seriously don't read this if yall dont like valdug bc its SMUSHY]#and i have FEELINGS #I AM HAVING AN E M O T I O N #sp headcanons #skulduggery pleasant

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foreverrosaliesbitch · 7 years ago

Text

Prompt list

please take note NONE OF THESE ARE MINE i’ve only taken a few from random blogs around tumblr so i dont own any of these prompts im juts browwowing them and using them if anyone had a problem with that please message me privatly.

secondly when requestting using the prompts plase include

1. pairing eg. Jasperxoc EmmettxRosaliexchildoc

2. the prompt number eg. C.127 and b.12 (note plese refrain from using any more than 3 prompts per request but feel free to request different ideas as many time as you like)

note there are 3 seprate prompt list A, B and c so when reqeusting add what letter A.6 C.89

_______________________________________________________________________

PROMPT LIST A

1. “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.”

2. “Define normal.”

3. “Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”

4. “Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

5. “Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

6. “It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

7. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

8. “Remind me to kill you. Please.”

9. “I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

10. “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

11. “Were you dropped on your head?”

12. “She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”

13. “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

14. “Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

15. “If I survive, can I go home?”

16. “My middle finger salutes you.”

17. “This is a whole new level of moronic, even for you.”

18. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”

19. “Insanity run in my family. It practically gallops.”

20. “Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

21. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

22. “All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”

23. “I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

24. “What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

25. “I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

26. “I need therapy after this.”

27. “You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”

28. “I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”

29. “I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”

30. “You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?”

31. “I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

32. “I’d explain it to you, but you’re brain would explode.”

33. “Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

34. “I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”

35. “Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass!”

36. “Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

37. “You’re good. A monster pain in the ass… but you’re good.”

38. “Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”

39. “Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

40. “I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”

41. “What’s the point in screaming? No one’s listening anyway.”

42. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

43. “So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”

44. “Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”

45. “This place hold a lot of memories for me. Some bad, some… No. No, no, all bad.”

46. “You’re insane, but you might also be brilliant.”

47. “What you call insanity, I call inspiration.”

48. “Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

49. “Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”

50. “Why does everyone assume the worst of me.” “It saves time.”

51. “I like you. You’re different.”

52. “Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

53. “You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”

54. “I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

55. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

56. “I care so little, I almost passed out.”

57. “Well behaved woman rarely make history.”

58. “You’re so weird.” “You have no idea.”

59. “The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.”

60. “You haven’t even seen my bad side yet.”

61. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

62. “Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”

63. “Damn, you’re strong for a little thing.”

64. “It’s called thinking. Go with it.”

65. “Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

66. “The girl is strange no question.”

67. “Do us a favor… I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try no to do anything… stupid.”

68. “I know most people don’t like me; I don’t care, I don’t like most people.”

69. “You are a very strange person.” “Well, thanks for noticing.”

70. “I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but… no.”

71. “I didn’t steal it. I permanently borrowed it.”

72. “If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs.”

73. “I don’t dislike you, I nothing you.”

74. “Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. That’s cute.”

75. “I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”

76. “My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.”

77. “I’m just gonna pack up and go straight to hell now.”

78. “My ex? Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or baseball bat.”

79. “She’s complicated like the DaVinci code, you know but harder to crack.”

80. “And just like everything else we do around here, it’s about to get weirder.”

81. “And hello to you too… little homewrecker.”

82. “I don’t need anger management. I need people to stop pissing me off.”

83. “This is fun.” “Seriously, we’re trying to hide a body.”

84. “That’s starting to get annoying”

85. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

PROMPT LIST B

“You can’t just sit there all day.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

“The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

“She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

“I lost our baby.”

“They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

“You’re Satan.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse. You can’t just give me wet-willies.”

“I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.”

“Did you just hiss at me?”

“I swear, I’m not crazy!!!”

“The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.”

“How is my wife more badass than me?”

“Be you. No one else can.”

“I haven’t slept in ages.”

“I locked the keys in the car.”

“Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

“Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

“The kids, they ambushed me.”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!”

“Stop being so cute.”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“You need to see a doctor.”

PROMPT LIST C

“I was a joke, baby. I swear.”

“Dogs don’t wear clothes!”

“I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

“Safety first. What are you? FIVE?”

“This is girl talk, so leave.”

“Where am I going? Crazy. Wanna come?”

“There’s a herd of them!”

“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?”

“I’m late.”

“Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!”

“You smell like a wet dog.”

“I could punch you right now.”

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

“If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“How could I ever forget about you?”

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

“Run for it!”

“We need to talk.”

“Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.”

“I want a pet.”

“Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.”

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Quit beating me up!”

“Please put your penis away.”

“It’s a Texas thing.”

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

“I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

“Does he know about the baby?”

“Hold still.”

“Enough with the sass!”

“Show me what’s behind your back.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”

“I had a bad dream again.”

“I love you, please don’t go.”

“Stay here tonight.”

“Please don’t walk out of that door.”

“I thought things were going great.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“You make every day worth living.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“I’m never letting you go.”

“You meant too much to me.”

“I won’t let you.”

“How could you ask me that?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

“You look amazing tonight.”

“Shouldn’t you be with him/her?”

“I’ve got you.”

“I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“How are you feeling today?”

“You look amazing tonight.”

“We’ll figure this out.”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Here, let me help you.”

“Kiss me.”

“I care about you.”

“You could have warned me!”

“That was unexpected.”

“You haven’t lost me.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t cry.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“You make me feel safe.”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“You’re always on my mind.”

“You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

“You’ve always felt like home.”

“I can’t imagine this world without you.”

“You make me feel alive.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Who cares about what they think?”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’ve always got me.”

“I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.”

“Is this okay?”

“You look like you could use a hug.”

“Did you need something?”

“Do you have a ride home?”

“I am home.”

“What happened back there?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Why me?”

“I’m right where I belong.”

“Fine.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

“You need sleep.”

“Excuse me?”

“What are you doing?”

“What did you expect?”

“You’re not alone.”

“We’re meant for each other.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“I’ve always been honest with you.”

“It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“Just breathe, okay?”

“When I’m with you, I’m happy.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

“You’re so adorable.”

“I’m better, now that you’re here.”

“I could never forget you.”

“Forget it.”

“That’s in the past.”

“You make me happy.”

“You’re more than that.”

“I won’t lose you too.”

“Come cuddle.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“I fell in love with you, not them.”

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You love me as if I deserve you.”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“I didn’t know you could dance like that!”

“I found it in the recycling bin.”

“I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.”

“This is… exactly what it looks like.”

“There’s so much blood.”

“You should see me in my old uniform. I’m pretty sure it still fits.”

“I know you really want to hang it on the wall, but…”

“We bet and you lost, so you have to do it.”

“Is that a tattoo?”

“I could tell it was your favorite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.”

“What do you think? Is purple my color?”

“That is way too expensive.”

“Girls night in?”

“I never imagined myself in a wedding dress.”

“I was scared and I ran.”

“I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.”

“You might not like me, but you definitely want me.”

“I want to hike up your skirt and take you right here.”

“I love you. I just love her more.”

“A package arrived for you, but there’s no return address and the box looks really old.”

“If I die, I’m going to haunt you.”

“I didn’t say “sex party” as in orgy. I said “hex party” as in witches.”

“You wanted me to walk in on you.”

“This is a totally inappropriate soundtrack.”

“Let’s get wasted and then go piss on his grave.”

“I scalped my Hamilton tickets to pay for it.”

“Hold my hand until it’s over?”

“If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.”

“I’m a level 72 Rogue and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it and I will kill you.”

#promptlist #brorrowed #not mine #requests #twilight

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superman86to99 · 8 years ago

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Adventures of Superman #500 (June 1993)

OVERSIZED ANNIVERSARY ISSUE! Featuring the return of Superman! And Superman! And Superman, and also, Superman! But first: The Badass Adventures of Pa Kent in Hell. The last time we saw ol’ Pa, he’d just had a heart attack and seen a ghostly vision of his dead son (that’s Superman, for those joining us), who grabbed his hand and pulled Pa towards him. Now Ghost Superman is like, “Whelp, nice seeing you dad, gotta go.”

Superman is taken “into the light” by a couple of demons disguised as robed Kryptonian ladies. However, Pa refuses to give up on his son and follows them, only to find himself in a battlefield covered with corpses -- those of his Korean War buddies. Pa is (understandably) confused and thinks he’s back in the war, carrying out a mission to rescue some captured “airman”. Private Pa then comes across a farm littered with more dead people, including one that reminds him of his brother Harry... mainly because that’s exactly who it is.

In case you hadn’t noticed, something fishy is going on here. A demonic-looking enemy soldier tries to kick Pa out of wherever the hell this is (get it? hell?), but Pa just punches him into oblivion and soldiers on. Sometimes you just gotta punch some Nazis, folks.

Next up, Pa runs into Lady Blaze, the satanic mistress/recurring Superman baddie. Blaze generously offers to help Pa find his son in exchange for one million do-- I mean, his soul. Pa apparently thinks “eh, I don’t love him that much” and prefers to jump into the void beneath him.

At this point, Pa is saved from pinballing from sad memory to sad memory for all eternity by Kismet, the nice cosmic entity Superman met a while back (“our favourite naked outer space lady in a cape”, as Don Sparrow puts it). With Kismet’s guidance, Pa finally finds Superman, but he’s in the middle of some sort of weird funeral procession carried out by more demons disguised as Kryptonians (and Superman’s old furry friend, the Cleric).

Superman has completely fallen for the show these guys put on, and is prepared to let them take him to the “Kryptonian afterlife”, but Pa eventually breaks the spell with his hollering. More punching ensues!

Superman gets rid of the demons, but he still thinks that Pa should go back to the land of living without him. He’s been gone for too long, and it’s not his place to deny death. Superman’s Kryptonian father Jor-El suddenly shows up to reinforce this notion, telling Superman to join him and his biological mother, Lara, in the afterlife. It is the natural way of things.

Naturally, Pa Kent ain’t having any of that.

Pa practically carries Superman through the portal in front of them. Cut to: Pa waking up in a hospital bed in Smallville, whispering “Clark is back” to a freaked out Ma Kent and Lois Lane.

Suddenly, Superman sightings are reported all over Metropolis -- it’s like he’s in four places at once! Lois refuses to give herself any false hopes, but just to make double-sure her fiancee is still dead, she decides to take a peek inside his tomb. Inspector Henderson opens the casket for her, and it’s... empty?!

TO BE CONTINUED! But first...

Epilogue 1: Two rival gangs are fighting over turf when one pulls out some futuristic super-weapons that literally blow the other guys to pieces. As the cops roll in, out of the rubble emerges a hulking figure saying “DOOMSDAY! GOTTA STOP DOOMSDAY!” Holy shit, it’s Superman! He’s back! Also, black!

Epilogue 2: As an evildoer tries to carjack an innocent citizen, a caped figure flies to the rescue... and blasts the absolute crap out of the would-be thief with some energy blasts, throwing him off the roof of a building. The familiar figure explains that he’s “risen from the dead” and been changed by “the fire and darkness” -- OK, that has to be Superman. There’s no other explanation.

Epilogue 3: There’s an emergency at Project Cadmus, the genetic experimentation facility that recently held Superman’s corpse: some type of secret cloning experiment has broken out before it/he was ready. We see this brash young clone being led to the outside world by the Newsboy Legion, and upon hearing the way they refer to him, he exclaims: “DON’T EVER CALL ME SUPERBOY!” Because he’s actually Superman! Oh my God!

Epilogue 4: A tourist family stops in front of the Daily Planet and reflects solemnly on the plaque marking the spot where Superman died... until a man in blue tights lands from the sky, rips out the plaque, and burns it with his heat vision. We then see that he’s got robot parts all over his body; you know, as if he’d been brought back to life after being pummelled to death by a monster. Whelp, that’s it. That’s Superman, right there.

Character-Watch:

First appearance of these four mysterious Supermen: Black Superman, Blind Superman, Brat Superman, and Beep-Bop-I’m-a-Robot Superman. Or is it?!

Creator-Watch:

This is a suitably epic finale for Jerry Ordway’s original Superman run, which started way back in 1987. Ordway went from artist to co-plotter to writer/artist to just writer, along the way pioneering the house style that all Superman series will use throughout the ‘90s. This is often called the “Byrne” and/or “Jurgens” era, but I’d argue that Ordway was the single most influential creator involved in this period, and although what comes directly after his departure is cool as hell, we’ll definitely miss the heart, humor and realism he brought to even the most obscure background characters.

Speaking of which, this wouldn’t be an Ordway comic without a shit-ton of subplots, so here we go...

Plotline-Watch:

One detail I never caught as a kid: one of the “Superman sightings” at the end of the issue is clearly a drunken Bibbo in a Superman shirt.

The Final Misadventure of Jose Degaldo: He’s been beaten, burned, broken (literally), had buildings dropped on him, and dumped by both Lois Lane and Cat Grant, but Jose “Gangbuster” Delgado has finally had enough -- he’s ditching Metropolis. A regular crime-punching adventure goes wrong when Jose accidentally beats up an undercover cop posing as a drug dealer. Upon learning there’s a warrant for his ass and getting shot by another cop, Jose decides to call it quits and leave town (using the bus ticket Inspector Henderson recently gave him). He’s actually going to Fawcett City along with his creator -- he’ll show up again in Jerry Ordway’s Power of Shazam, but that’s it for Jose in these pages! Goodbye, Suicide Slum’s rose.

Incidentally, Cat Grant is feeling rather down since she split with Jose, and her boss Vinnie Edge uses the opportunity to invite her to dinner. She agrees, even though A) her relationship with Vinnie’s son did not end well, and B) he’s a disgusting perv who just grabbed her butt. Don Sparrow says: “The interplay between Cat Grant and Vinnie Edge hasn’t aged well -- though in some ways it seems timelier than ever.”

The “favor” Vinnie mentions above is not what you might think: he wants Cat to talk to Jimmy Olsen, who has neglected his duties as star of the hit Turtle Boy TV series ever since a certain pal of Jimmy’s was violently killed. Jimmy isn’t in the mood for light-hearted TMNT copyright infringement, though, so the series is currently on reruns.

Those Turtle Boy reruns are watched by the cellmate of Oswald Loomis -- aka Superman’s least intimidating rogue, The Prankster. Loomis, once a children’s entertainer himself, doesn’t appreciate ‘90s television and tries to electrocute said cellmate (who, in my memory, was Vinnie’s son Morgan Edge, making this scene slightly less random).

Pa Kent smashing the ghostly Jor-El with a shovel that materializes out of nowhere is, of course, a shout out to John Byrne’s classic Man of Steel #6, when he does the same thing. I want a full series about Pa dispatching Kryptonian ghosts the same way. His maligned brother Harry was also mentioned in a Byrne comic, World of Smallville #1.

As usual, I’m forgetting or lazily leaving out plenty of important details, so check out Don Sparrow’s section after the jump for way more!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

Even more than Superman #75, it’s this issue (and the storyline that follows) that most define this, my most beloved era of Superman comics for me. Perhaps it’s because I was actually opposed to Superman’s death, rather than excited about it, whereas with this issue, I was only completely excited, and totally curious about how they’d bring Superman back.

Still more nerdy background: as we’ve mentioned in previous blogposts, I live in the same city as Super-teamster Tom Grummett, so the fact that he drew this comic was big, big deal in my hometown. Our local comic store (which sat below Tom Grummett’s art studio upstairs) had Tom in on the day it was released to sign copies, so it was a major event. Though I was only a lad of 13 at the time, both that day, and in the years since, I bought enough copies of Adventures of Superman #500 to insulate my house with them (and so did the rest of the world, making the resale value not quite what Superman #75 was). How big of a deal was Superman’s return in my hometown? Well, we made the evening news…

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The direct market edition cover features a stunner of a painting by the great Jerry Ordway, of a ghostly Superman reaching out to Pa Kent from beyond the void. It was billed as being a removable translucent screen, but I don’t know anyone who was successfully able to remove the vellum without ruining their cover, but the softening of the add-on is very effective. The newsstand edition (remember when comics could be purchased on newsstands?) has a decidedly story-driven cover, which must have perplexed the many non-regular Superman readers who came out in droves for this big issue. It features Superman and Pa Kent floating over a background of enemies (including the demonic Blaze, which, to the uninitiated, must have been pretty spooky) with Pa Kent inexplicably in a Challengers of the Unknown looking jumpsuit. Confusion aside, it’s still a great cover, and a nice hint at all the zip-a-tone goodness we’ll find inside.

Throughout the issue, the real world and the afterlife are given very distinct visual styles, with the ‘real’ world being inked and coloured normally, and the spirit world with lots of zip-a-tone shadows and gleaming bright colours. It’s such an effective way to delineate the storylines, and man, I love how the extra shading looks on the afterlife pages. It’ll be hard to single out only a few pages, because, honestly, this is one of the best drawn comics of the era.

In the first few pages, I was struck that, despite seeing Superman in full uniform at the end of Superman #77, the Superman Jonathan Kent sees on the ‘other’ side is Clark Kent, which is a telling note about how he sees his identity. The image of Pa stripping away his Clark garb is a great one, with the mist and swirling clouds establishing we are indeed, not in Kansas anymore.

The direct market edition also has some differences within the book, in addition to the difference in cover—it has a number of full page splashes inserted into the storyline, which are missing from the newsstand edition, and each one is a stunner. The first one is Gangbuster descending a fire escape on page 6, having ignored the warnings he got from Inspector Henderson in the Superman specials that preceded this issue.

The most interesting thing about these splashes, aside from how just about every one of them would have made for some killer poster art, is how seamlessly Jerry Ordway matches the scripts. Many of the splashes contain dialogue, but if those sentences are removed (as they are in the newsstand edition) the story still makes sense, which must have been a real challenge. [Max: Oddly enough, the one flaw I’ve found in my giant Death and Return of Superman omnibus so far is that some of the dialogue from these pages is duplicated, presumably from combining pages from both editions.]

Page 9 features another great Gangbuster image, and the fight choreography in the pages that follow has a real sense of place and pace.

As we return to Pa Kent’s near death experience, the visuals go a good job of selling the story’s dreamlike conceit—“reality” is pretty flexible where he is, so as Jonathan spends time there, his thoughts get muddled in with memory, and he can lose his purpose. It really feels like a dream in that way. Also, having heard about Jonathan’s brother previously, I thought he’d look a lot worse. There’s a strange cutaway to the Prankster in these pages, and while it’s a funny little scene, it has no bearing on the story, and Prankster doesn’t pop up again in these pages for a very long time---if memory serves, until the ill-fitting reboot of his look some 80 issues later. [Max: We saw him during the Dominus storyline, but I’m not sure if that counts.]

I also love how Grummett seems to draw Prankster as looking like UK comedian Terry Thomas, which is a great fit. It’s always tricky to translate such goofy-looking characters into real people, and here, perhaps for the first time, Prankster looks like a human being and not a doughier Alfred E Neuman. (Do prisoners really get their own portable TVs? Surely this scene demonstrates the danger of such a luxury!)

The scenes of Pa Kent falling into a pit and being pulled out by Blaze are chilling, but, like the rest of the issue, doesn’t it just make you fall in love with tough, no nonsense Jonathan Kent? It’s a mini-Godwatch when he pulls a Luke Skywalker and choose oblivion over joining forces with Blaze. (Extra points for Jonathan asking the question on the minds of a lot of Superman readers—is Blaze the devil or what?)

Next up is an appearance by what would seem to be Blaze’s opposite number, Kismet, our favourite naked outer space lady in a cape. Both sides of the two-page splash are pretty stunning here.

The ersatz Kryptonian funeral is pretty interesting too. Here, Grummett walks a fine line, having the Kryptonian stuff accurate enough that we know what it’s supposed to be, but just off enough that we know something strange is going on.

Once Clark figures out that the wraiths mean him harm (has there ever been a nice wraith?) it’s so, so great to see him back in action after all these months without him. Major kudos to the colourist, here especially, but throughout the book, for the unique colours which look great here on Superman’s uniform. Plus, I always like the times when Superman loses his cape.

The visual effect of the portal back to reality is just amazing, and from their perspective, probably pretty accurate. Next to the blinding light of the afterlife, earthly life would probably seem pretty dark. That last image from the direct edition, of Superman flying through the void with Pa Kent is just such a stunner. And from a story standpoint, this is just so definitive of the Super-team. That a story about bringing back Superman is told in the most personal, meaningful way, with a chubby, balding old farmer as more or less the lead character. It’s a total rejection of the grit teeth and substance-less Image comics trend of the era in its’ wholesomeness. And I love this is how they chose to bring him back. My very favourite detail, that I came back to again and again was that the heartbeat that returns to Pa Kent’s monitor goes across his panel, into the panel of Superman’s tomb. So subtle, and so, so awesome.

The four page previews kicking off the Reign storyline are almost an issue unto themselves, but I love how all the eye-witness accounts from page 45 are later seen within issues, and give clues to very different Supermen.

If you’ll allow me just a little more nerdiness, DC sent comic shops some previews of this issue to create excitement, and these pages included scans of the end section with the new Supermen. The only catch was, on these previews the figures were totally whited out, so you couldn’t see what he looked like. So having read those short previews, I thought they were all referring to ONE new Superman, who I assumed had been changed by his experience with Doomsday. It wasn’t until I got the issue home that I realized they were launching four different storylines.

The art on these is pretty interesting. This is really the point where Jon Bogdanove shifts into a really loose, less constrained style, which honestly works quite well for the larger than life character of John Henry Irons. And that first look at him—you can definitely see why they thought that Shaquille O’Neal would work for this character.

Next is a spooky look at the Last Son of Krypton, who I 100% believed was the real Superman, mainly because of his appearance. The panel of Superman lowering to finish off the thug is a great, eerie look, and I dig the Gandalf the White style dialogue here, too.

I love everything about the “Metropolis Kid” section, because it’s all built-in, and even gives us hints of this character’s “tactile telekinesis” with the grating not being damaged from his blow. Maybe it’s just nostalgia, but man, it’s a great costume too.

Lastly, the Man of Tomorrow segment, which is such great, great storytelling, as, until the very last second, you don’t realize anything is amiss, in spite of the facial expressions of the tourists. [Max: This guy freaked me out even before I saw his full face, and I just realized why: the panel of him turning to face the family reminds me the end of this traumatizing BTAS episode.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

It’s interesting to me that this issue establishes that Jonathan Kent fought in the Korean conflict, and not, as was established in the World of Smallville mini-series, World War II. It’s amazing that enough time had passed by this point, that they had to move the timeline up. I suppose if Pa Kent were still in modern stories, he’d have been a Vietnam veteran by now. I’ll admit being surprised watching Smallville that Jonathan Kent had never been in any war—I thought for sure they’d have made him a Gulf War veteran or something.

Even completely in shock and grief and confusion, Lois Lane really rocks those stretchpants.

GODWATCH: This is the big one, where, as hinted to in past issues, the belief system that the Kents raised Clark within is made explicit. First on page 22, in a moment of despair, Lois admits she wishes her faith were stronger, and Martha relates that their beliefs included Heaven, and that Clark himself, to her knowledge, subscribed to those beliefs. Finally, when Pa stabilizes, Ma Kent thanks the Lord, on page 42. [Max: I also find Pa’s theory that Clark only ended up in this limbo because he’d been raised as a mortal pretty interesting.]

“Sure—have some of my hootch, why don’tcha?” A very funny exchange. [Max: I forgot to mention High Pocket’s essential contribution to this issue, when he fishes Jose out of the river, gives him booze, and tries to recruit him for some larceny! Shame on me.]

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mashuheartwrites · 4 years ago

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This the beginning of a story I never finished.

Hiiiiiii

This is a long one.

I was digging into my old writing right? Because I was curious, what was my writing style like years before?

I found this story from maybe three years ago but I believe it’s much older than that and it’s called ‘The tainted soul’ I was like, Oeh Juicy™, so I started reading and oh boy, was it good.

That first paragraph was a wild ride like what was I on lmfao? (It’s literally her friend just coming to greet her, he’s a literal ball of sunshine so??? What is this paragraph????)

The story begins when ‘Ben’ rings my main character’s doorbell and goes ‘lets go to this party at three am’, my protagonist is like ‘hell no, you do this every time, just let me sleep I’m hallucinating because I don’t sleep’, he’s like ‘eh, whatever let’s go’

Because Ben knows the protagonist, he cares for the protagonist and he wants her to be happy because her parents died and her grandfather too, of old age. He feels responsible to not let her be alone so he drags her half asleep being out of the house.

They go to this party that’s a couple of blocks away and the main character looks around and thinks ‘what a waste of lawn’ I’m not even kidding, that’s what she thinks.

The door opens and the protagonist groans, Ben gets greeted with a nice side hug and everything and she just gets a:

“Willow.” He greeted stifly

“Liam.” I cleared my throat, not knowing where to look.

There I found out her name was Willow. Turns out they went to a party of one of Willow’s victims because she used to be a bully in middle school. (And she really gave it to this Liam guy, he was allergic to almonds and she force fed them to him, yikes. Her excuse? ‘I get an allergy to peanuts but almonds?’) Moving on...

The party gets interrupted because cops and everyone runs away, Willow and Ben are caught by the cops and still manage to kind of escape (Ben’s a lightweight, she had to physically drag him to her house.)

Ben proves to also be an annoying drunk because he’s somehow incredibly fast and he runs to her... attic (cue creepy music) she never goes to the attic because it gives off creepy vibes, but Ben is already there and she needs to get him out, because... because it’s the last bit of her parents she still has. Her grandfather collected the stuff of her parents and stored them in the attic so when she was ready she could have access to it, hence why he never locked the door.

When Willow get to Ben she halts, he’s holding an orb in his hands, one that’s freezing his fingers turning his arms blue and purple. She knows she can’t touch it because it will harm her as well so she searches for something to catch the strange globe in but she’s already too late. Ben dropped it. Smashing it into pieces. Gone was this thing that belonged to her parents.

Ben’s upset that she’s not upset, she just acts numb and he has this whole outburst about how pitiful her existence is and Willow decides that’s enough for that day and asks him to leave.

After he leaves she tries, to you know, connect to her parents because she didn’t really know them but she kind of did and that created a really weird relationship between how she felt and was supposed to feel. So she looks around and is amazed by the things her parents dug up, it’s dope, and then she does something... mildly ignorant? She touches a big bad no-no, it doesn’t look like a no-no, but it is.

The next chapter had this line, I quote:

“Apple pie is one of the greatest inventions on earth. No fucking doubt.”

That’s where I stopped writing... I was devastated, I wanted more! (Can you believe that that’s what I opened the next chapter with? I’m... ridiculous.)

The story basically goes like this: Ben’s a chosen one, he’s a demigod but his father has abandoned him, left him for nothing and his mother never told him.

Strange things start to happen after Ben leaves her house because she asked him to, Willow’s attacked by giant bird ladies screeching and throwing her house around, talking about ‘demigod, half blood, whatevers’ and it freaks her out (of course because, what the hell.) also she’s changing, and it’s happening fast.

The attic keeps calling out to her, the world keeps getting attacked by weird scary creatures, she gets nightmares of the world burning to pieces by this thing and it’s too much and then Ben, her Ben, he’s... he’s... a demigod. And this new part of her doesn’t like demigods. Under the influence of this bad artefact she kills her best friend. The Demigod™ so she’s absolutely screwed.

Her normal (kinda cute) body is merged with an actual demon, when she like touched the thing in her attic? Yeah so it’s one that sucks the souls out of people and guess what? She’s opened a portal for a giant angry beast to destroy the world, basically a portal to hell, which by the way she’s later condemned to. Uh... yah.

But before she killed Ben, he defeated this monster enough for it to be immobile and Willow finishes it off (because that thing made her murder her best friend.)

Then there was a sequel to the story, the gods need her help and that’s where the bad ass dialogue comes from, she absolutely hates them, hates their guts and what they stand for. She becomes this badass half demon chic who just doesn’t give a damn about nothing and nobody until this beam of a sunshine guy (who reminds her of Ben.) opens her up a bit.

Ben does come back eventually, under the mercy of his father who suddenly, harbours sooooo much love for Ben, even though he never tried to even care for Ben when things got really really hard. (Yeah, okay, ‘cause that’s how parenting works.)

On the condition that he kills his best friend. (Ugh, why can’t it just be out of love? You know, that’s also a reason to bring your dead son back.)

Here’s some of my favourite dialogue:

Here Willow is talking to Zeus, he summoned her.

Oh, oh, and:

This one is quite nice too, you know?:

That was fun. How much fun to see how much fun I had writing. I don’t think I’ll finish this but... I don’t know to was just a nice thing to look back on. A nice passing memory.

Okay that’s it for today. Back to writing.

Byyyeeeee

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sarazeenwrites · 6 years ago

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The Wheel of Time Review: Books 1-5

With so much time on my hands now, I’ve decided to delve into the “classics” of modern fantasy, beginning with The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (and Brandon Sanderson).

Can I just start off with a little detour?

(Tolkien alert!) My dad recently bought me the entire The History of Middle-earth series, currently nestled happily on my shelves. And let me just say what pure joy it is to look up and see all those gorgeous covers arranged in order. Twelve books, not counting the Index (large enough to literally be a book in itself). Quite an endeavor to get into. But since I have an overabundance of time, I’m more than happy to delve.

But in the meantime, Robert Jordan holds me captive.

I haven’t completed the entire monster yet — currently reading only Book 4 (Fires of Heaven) of 14 — so I cannot speak for the entire series yet, but these are my giddy thoughts so far.

I began this with only the vaguest ideas of what to expect. I knew there have been innumerable comparisons to Tolkien’s work, with some saying Jordan all but copied him. I knew that the beloved author died before he could complete the work, and his wife and publisher chose the worthy Fantasy-giant Brandon Sanderson to finish WOT based on the massive amounts of notes Jordan left behind. I also knew that the plot was classic classic Fantasy: insignificant good-guy becomes powerful and defeats even more powerful bad-guy. And I knew it had something to do about a wheel.

I bought the Kindle omnibus version from Amazon, titled The Complete Wheel of Time, which listed the prequel as the first book. So, naturally, I began there. I also purchased The World of Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time and The Wheel of Time Companion to help me along, and I have to say: these two volumes have been invaluable, though I’ve had to be very careful to avoid spoilers. Speaking of spoilers…

You should be warned: there’s going to be spoilers here. Lots of them. If you haven’t read these books yet, I suggest stopping now.

Shall we begin?

PREQUEL: NEW SPRING

New Spring introduces the Aes Sedai city of Tar Valon, smack in the middle of the Aiel War. The reader is immediately shown two characters: Moiraine and Siuan, who would go on to become vital, vital parts of the series proper. The novella (by Jordan’s standards, of course) portrays the early lives of these two outstanding characters. As someone very new to this world, it took me a few chapters to acclimatize myself to the hows and whys of this new place. While the plot itself was interesting (Siuan and Moiraine hearing the prophecy, being raised to full Aes Sedai, their search for the Dragon Reborn, Moiraine meeting Lan, etc.) I found the book itself to be mildly interesting.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad book. Not by a long shot. But it’s not exactly a page-turner either. I liked the characters, I enjoyed the plot, I found it interesting, but I didn’t find myself as hooked as I was hoping I’d be.

As I’d later find out, New Spring elaborates a lot on the inner workings of the White Tower, information which proved incredibly important later in the series, but while reading it, unaware of the rest, it just didn’t seem gripping enough. There’s not much drama going on, no conflict truly worth worrying about. It was a nice, interesting read. Good, but forgettable.

Overall, I’d give it a 3 out of 5. 2.8 would’ve been more like it, but like I said, it helped to know how the intimidating White Tower truly is from the inside later. As a new reader, however: meh.

BOOK 1: THE EYE OF THE WORLD

As bland as New Spring was, I knew from the very first page of The Eye of the World that I was in for the treat of a lifetime. The prologue stunned me. I’d read about the terrifying mountain known as the Dragonmount, and to actually witness it’s creation…

When the prologue ended and the book truly began, I read the first paragraph and knew this was everything I’d hoped for and more:

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

I could just feel the giddiness. This was what I’d been craving for a long time: a world and a story to sweep me away, snatch me off the real world so I can live and breathe a land that is endlessly full of possibilities.

Rand al’Thor, our protagonist, is literally the first character we’re introduced to (not counting that fateful wind). Jordan likes to take his time with introductions and world-buildings and it is sheer joy to explore the lands he takes you to. You have vivid characters, a terrifying antagonist, an overwhelmingly vast destiny and a reluctant farm-boy thrust into legend he didn’t even know existed.

The only problem I have with his otherwise-beautiful writing style is the excessive use of commas. I myself am guilty of this, but Jordan seems to have been suffering from the same thing I do. It’s only when I began reading this that I realized how jarring it can be to have a punctuation mark placed where it shouldn’t be. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye out for my own commas from now on.

It was a breath of air to meet Moiraine again, especially considering how isolated and (ahem) backward the quaint people of the Two Rivers is. We meet Rand (our titular hero), Mat and Perrin (his friends and companions, who become something of a legend themselves soon), Lan (my heart!), Egwene (Rand’s current love interest, but don’t worry: it fades soon), and the love of the love of my life, Nynaeve.

First thoughts about them:

Rand: Oh. Okay. You’re the hero. Hi! Please become cooler so I can fall in love with you.

Perrin: Hello. You seem nice.

Mat: AHAHAHAHAHA! You’re hilarious. My favorite so far!

Lan: *forgets Mat* *forgets world* *drools* Marry me? Please?

Moiraine: Lady, you’re badass and I love it!

Egwene: Firstly, you’re making me think of omelets. And secondly, not even the Aes Sedai is this bossy. Why does Rand love you, again?

Nynaeve: Tough girl equals cool girl. Teach me, sensei.

Jordan does take his sweet time getting the story started, but once it does, it really gets going. In quick, breathless succession, you’re treated to a tiny town that the villagers are awed by, nearly killed in a cursed city (the damned dagger, I tell you!), separated and then just generally tossed into chaos. Important point: Rand meets and befriends Loial, an Ogier (read the book to find out what that is), an adorable muffin of a giant whom I love all the way to Shayol Ghul and back, in this case quite literally!

By the last quarter, the heroes themselves are fully aware of the scale of the story they’re in and that’s when the reader begins to feel their heart pumping. There’s a brutal fight, two terrifying antagonists are killed (but not really, but that’s for later), and you’re left breathless when Moiraine comes to realize that Rand might be the Dragon Reborn.

As the introduction to a truly epic tale, it’s hard to believe it can get any better than this. It’s a stunning beginning to an amazing story, and it truly lets you peek at the vastness of this world while still keeping you contained enough that you don’t float away into Rand’s Void. I’d give The Eye of the World a solid 4.5/5, and it’s more than well-deserved.

BOOK 2: THE GREAT HUNT

Book 2 is when the tale starts to get into the meat of the matter, in a manner of speaking. It’s also where we are properly introduced to Siuan Sanche, one of the all-around coolest characters in this ultra-cool series, so The Great Hunt automatically gets points for that.

Again, Jordan likes to take his time with things, so unless you’re a (very!) patient reader, this book is around when most casual perusers are likely to give up. We’re all used to trilogies where the protagonist becomes insanely powerful within half of Book 2, so if that’s what you’re hoping for, it’s not going to happen. Rand begins to come into his own from Book 4, so you’re in for a long but worthy wait. And boy does Book 2 set it off nicely!

Padan Fain, a minor character encountered three, maybe four, times in The Eye of the World reveals himself to be as much of a danger as the Dark One himself, foretelling some of the events that will shake the world to its roots. Rand realizes that the powers he’d briefly discovered at the end of the last book are likely to kill him or get him killed, and he panics. Mat and Perrin join the hunt for Padan Fain, who’s stolen the Horn of Velere, with Rand and a band of Sheinarans. We’re also reintroduced to Ingtar, a hero-type character with all the makings of a great man — but with a shocking twist at the end of the story that left me gaping at the words for a full hour. Nynaeve, Egwene, Moiraine and Lan troop off to the White Tower, but the last two leave soon to learn more about the legends surrounding the Dragon Reborn.

Rand, Loial and a hilarious Shienaran half-bloodhound-half-adorkable guy called Hurin are soon separated from their party and lands in the midden of an alternate dimension. Lanfear (you gorgeous killer-lady, you) helps them get back to their own world, though. Rand is reunited with Thom (my darling gleeman, thought killed in the last book), but this spells disaster for the latter. Rand, Loial and Hurin meet up with Ingtar’s group, along with Mat and Perrin, and break into a nobleman’s house to recapture Fain and get the Horn back.

A side-note: Mat is almost dying because of the cursed dagger’s influence, a fact that preys on Rand’s mind. Perrin, in the meantime, has become a wolfbrother, meaning he can communicate telepathically with wolves, an ability which becomes vital to Rand’s struggles later.

Fain escapes to the other side of the continent (Toman Head), which is currently in the hands of the invading foreign army, the Seanchan. Nynaeve, Elayne and Min are lured there by the Black Ajah member, Liandrin (I hate this girl so much, ugh), where they are captured before Rand and the rest arrive in the port-city.

All the main protagonists converge on tiny, significant little Falme, and the world is shown the face of the Dragon Reborn for the first time: the Seanchan and the Whitecloaks attack each other, trapping our heroes in between, forcing Mat to blow the Horn and call legendary heroes from the grave to the fight while Rand enters into a terrifying battle with Ba’alzamon up in the air above the city. This is where Rand receives a wound that will trouble him for a long, long time afterwards. At the end of the book, the world is finally made aware of the presence of the Dragon Reborn, a fate which Rand is just beginning to accept as real, opening declaring himself the Dragon Reborn for the first time.

Despite being just Book 2, The Great Hunt truly begins to reveal just how epic the scale of this story is. We’re shown glimpses of a deeper history, antagonists who seem borderline un-killable and heroes who have to truly earn their places. We’re also introduced to some of the “cooler” characters (Siuan being my favorite), and it becomes very obvious that these three ta’veren will gather enough power to truly change the world. I’m giving The Great Hunt a cool 4/5, striking off a point only because of how much I loathe Padan Fain. Otherwise, it’s a worthy addition to this series.

BOOK 3: THE DRAGON REBORN

Book 3, The Dragon Reborn, is a unique book in some key ways. Firstly, the titular character (and the one around whom the behemoth revolves) is barely here. We are given only tantalizing glimpses of him as the other characters race across the land trying to find him. Another is the entire “hunting” vibe that this book oozes. We’re also given some closure for Ingtar, so I’m grateful for that.

I still feel bad for him…

Anyways.

My boy Rand is having an identity crisis here, a recurring theme throughout the story (not just this book). He knows he can channel, he’s declared himself the Dragon Reborn to his tiny group of followers, but he wants real proof that he actually is what Moiraine and Siuan think he is. What better way to do that than test the prophecies? He disappears from the group, apparently headed east. While the shocked party follows him, we’re also treated to Perrin meeting Gaul and then Faile (Light bless that girl). We also witness Min telling Perrin about her viewings of him, stuff that becomes quite significant later.

In the meantime, Mat, Min and the dagger from Shadar Logoth is taken to the White Tower by Verin, Nynaeve, Egwene and Elayne. Siuan quickly sets Nynaeve, Egwene and Elayne to hunting the Black Ajah, a task which sees them running away from the Tower very soon. Mat, during this time, is healed and given a letter by Elayne to give to her mother, Queen Morgase. Mat and Thom set off to Andor together, but once in the Palace, they uncover a plot by Morgase’s lover, Lord Gaebril, to murder Elayne. Bound by honor, Mat decides to follow the girls to Tear, the same place that Rand’s headed.

Once again, all the characters converge on Tear, which is an extremely rich and important city, unlike Falme. Faile is trapped in the Dream World but rescued by Perrin, who by now has fallen deeply in love with her. Nynaeve and the girl, in their own turn, are rescued by Mat when they’re imprisoned in the fortress called the Stone of Tear.

Rand and Be’lal duel, but the Forsaken is killed by Moiraine with balefire. We then realize that Rand had not truly killed Ba’alzamon in Falme; the two fight again, with Rand winning when he wields Callandor, a crystal sword which has the ability to enhance the user’s powers immensely. However, they quickly realize that the man Rand has killed is not actually the Dark One himself but the chief of the Forsaken, Ishamael.

The book ends with Rand conquering the infallible Stone of Tear with the Aiel in Tear, proving both to himself and to the world that he truly is the Dragon Reborn as prophesied.

The Dragon Reborn is the beginning of Rand coming to his own, searching for who he truly is and then accepting his destiny as the man who must bring about the Last Battle and fight the Dark One. After having taken the Stone, there is no denying that is exactly who he is. Rand grants me the request I made when I first him to become cooler. He becomes almost too cool to handle, and I am definitely not complaining! The other characters, who had already been vivid in their own way, explodes into life.

I do want to add something of a side-note here.

Some modern readers may find Jordan’s frequent comparisons of the differences between men and women uncomfortable — considering the varieties of gender that we now acknowledge — but you do have to keep in mind that this story was written in the 1990’s. Sexuality and gender were seen differently at the time, which is why there are no non-heterosexual relationships here or even people who identify themselves as anything other than strictly male or female. Even the One Power (the source of magic in this world) is split equally into two halves, male and female. Not once have I felt that Jordan was expressing his own beliefs here. He simply wrote as people during the time of writing thought.

As for the book itself, The Dragon Reborn, builds on the promise of the first two books and continue to pile on the suspense I’ve felt since page one. There’s lore, there’s history, there’s story and then there’s suspense. Even with Rand almost always being in the background of the scenes, his presence (or absence!) is always felt. Loial the Ogier is an adorable, overgrown bear whom I absolutely adore, and he turns out to be quite a fierce fighter despite his gentle nature. Nynaeve, Elayne and Egwene grow out of interesting background characters into women who realize they have a job that the entire world may depend on and boy do they embrace it!

The Dragon Reborn earns 4.5/5 from me for masterful storytelling and the ability to keep me up until dawn unable to put the book down and giving me a panic attack when my Kindle finally runs out of battery. I’ve never plugged a device in so fast in my life, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Don’t judge me, you meanie. Rand had just seized Callandor and I was losing my mind.

BOOK 4: SHADOW RISING

Shadow Rising is Book 4 of The Wheel of Time, Robert Jordan’s Tolkienesque epic fantasy tale with a massive cast of characters, a truly heart-thumping story of one man given an impossible fate. For the fourth time in a row, Jordan proves that he had a tale to tell that would leave readers gasping. And his delivery is flawless. Almost. But we’ll get to that very soon.

Also, this is where Siuan suffers one of the worst things that can happen to an Aes Sedai, and it truly broke my heart to see her like that. She proves her to be more than up to the challenge, however, and this only increases my admiration of this woman. What a lady!

Shadow Rising picks up almost exactly where The Dragon Reborn left us, with Rand just having claimed Callandor and conquered the impenetrable fortress of the Stone of Tear, proving him to truly be the long-awaited Dragon Reborn. However, being literally the most powerful creature in the world does not mean things go easy for him. The Stone is attacked by an army of Shadowspawn and Rand uses Callandor to devastating effect, destroying the army single-handedly by creating a lightning storm. This is also where we, as readers, witness Rand hearing Lews Therin’s voice in his mind for the first time.

Knowing he needs powerful allies, Rand buries Callandor into the Heart of the Stone (another part of the prophesies) and goes to the Aiel Waste with Egwene, Moiraine and Lan. Elayne — who is in love with Rand, a feeling which is returned — entrusts his care to Aviendha, an Aiel Maiden who quickly became fast friends with the girls. Mat, who encounters a snake-like species called the Aelfinn through a spelled gateway in the Stone, is compelled by his ta’veren nature (aided by Rand’s significantly more powerful ta’veren swirls of the Pattern) to accompany them. Perrin decides to go back to the Two Rivers (followed by Faile, Loial and three Aiel) after hearing of troubles in his old home. He does not meet the others for a very long, but don’t worry, he never falls out of the picture. Quite the contrary, in fact. At the same time, Elayne, Nynaeve and Thom head off to Tarabon to continue their hunt for the Black Ajah, while Min finally (after an entire book!) reaches Tar Valon. The books follows each of these storylines in perfect parallel and it is beautiful.

In the Waste, Rand, Mat, Egwene, Moiraine and Lan (my gorgeous hunk) encounter the fierce Aiel people, the best warriors in the world with their own culture, beliefs and customs in stark contrast to what we’ve seen so far. Moiraine, Mat and Rand all enter Rhuidean, the sacred city of the Aiel, where all experience life-changing visions. Mat encounters the Aelfinn through yet another ter’angreal and given a foxhead medallion which makes him immune to the One Power, all the memories of his ancestors and then hanged on a spear, a weapon which he later adopts for his own once revived by Rand. Moiraine enters the city, but what she sees is not revealed for some time yet. Rand, on the other hand, encounters his Aiel heritage through his Aiel father’s ancestors, during the entire stunning history of this warlike folk, and the prophecy of the car’a’carn, the Aiel’s own version of the Dragon Reborn. He emerges with dragon markings on both arms, proving himself to be both their savior and their destroyer. This last, however, is contested by the chief of the Shaido Aiel, Couladin, who declares himself the car’a’carn. Rand reveals the secret history of the Aiel to the entire nation, stunning them and proving the truth. He is forced to call in a rainstorm (in a desert!) to stop the fighting and then goes back to Rhuidean in pursuit of Asmodean, one of the Forsaken who had been tailing him. Asmodean is defeated and his access to the One Power is limited on the condition that he teach Rand. When they return, most of the Aiel have accepted Rand as their “chief of chiefs”.

Meanwhile, back in the Two Rivers, Perrin inadvertently uses his ta’veren nature (along with the help of Faile, Loial, Verin, Alanna and his Aiel friends) to fight back against the Trollocs attacking the villages. He is nicknamed “Goldeneyes” and called “Lord Perrin”, to his disgust. He and Faile marry but he sends her off “to get help” (his way of protecting her, ugh). The Whitecloaks, who’d been there the entire time, promise to help, but when the time comes and they do not keep their word, they are driven off. Faile returns with massive reinforcements from the other villages, and the Two Rivers acknowledge “Lord Perrin Goldeneyes” and “Lady Faile” — a situation which Faile approves off but Perrin finds annoying.

At the same time, in Tanchico, Elayne and Nynaeve (accompanied by the adorable Thom and the hilarious Juilin) encounter the Forsaken Moghedien, meet Egeanin and find one of the broken Seals of the Dark One’s prison. Nynaeve quickly realizes that she actually matches the Forsaken woman for power, but the latter manages to escape.

In Tar Valon, Min arrives at the White Tower and reports to Siuan, but has to remain disguised as an idiotic girl named Elmindreda (which happens to be her real name). Soon afterwards, Elaida deposes Siuan and Leane, stilling them both and breaking the White Tower into two factions: Siuan’s supporters (named rebels) and Elaida’s followers (who prevail). Min manages to break the women out from prison and escape Tar Valon (assisted grudgingly by Elayne’s brother Gawyn, who supports Elaida). While on the run, the three of them pick up Logain, a False Dragon who had been gentled.

Compared to the other books, Shadow Rising is more action-packed. There’s a lot going on here, with every single character encountering and then resolving conflicts of their own. Being perfectly honest, I thought the Tanchico parts of the book dragged a little. It’s still interesting, of course, but does not really live up to the standards I’ve come to expect from Robert Jordan. I thought the same might happen with Perrin’s story, but I found myself interested, then fascinated and eventually hooked, going so far as to groan out loud when the next chapter featured a different place. There were times when I was actually more interested in Perrin than Rand. The Aiel Waste storyline was shocking, especially when it is revealed that this extremely volatile folk are actually descended from a people who were sworn to a life of peace, refusing violence even in defense. To think they’re now the world’s foremost warriors! What a twist!

I’ll give Shadow Rising a 4.9/5. It loses that 0.1 simply because I found myself not really caring much about Tanchico at all. Sure, it was fine, but Jordan has spoiled me with true page-turning adventures and this was not quite up there. Otherwise, Book 4 is one of the high points of The Wheel of Time, and I cannot recommend it strongly enough.

BOOK 5: THE FIRES OF HEAVEN

The Fires of Heaven does not feature Perrin, so it automatically loses a full point for that. I missed him so much! But aside from that, there’s much more to this book than people say. I know that some fans do not like this installment much, calling it a “filler” and “aimless” and a lot of other things, but personally speaking, I did not find it so. Yes, it’s true, compared to the neck-breaking pace of the last book, this is slow. But it also features the first battle we witness in which the One Power is used extensively. How can I possibly not love it?

But then Moiraine…oh Light, Moiraine! Noooooooooo! Okay, let’s just get this over with…

The Shaido Aiel, led by the absolutely dung-brained Couladin, invade Cairhien in retaliation for Rand declaring himself the car’a’carn of the Aiel. Rand, of course, gathers the rest of the Aiel (a massive army of both men and women) and follows them. A tremendous battle takes place just outside the gates of Cairhien, with Rand and Egwene wielding the One Power against the colossal army of Shaido. Mat, who has been trying desperately to get away from all this mess, ends up only getting himself more deeply entrenched in Rand’s ta’veren swirls when he saves some troops from a Shaido ambush and ends up not only gathering a small army loyal only to himself but also kills the Shaido leader Couladin in single combat. It’s not the end of the Shaido, however, not by a long shot..

Once Cairhien is firmly under Rand’s control, Lanfear returns with a vengeance. Finding out that Rand (the reincarnation of her old lover, Lews Therin) has slept with Aviendha, the Forsaken flies into a monstrous rage and lashes out. Moiraine, who had seen this and the outcome of this during her experience at Rhuidean, grabs Lanfear, making them both fall through a ter’angreal which is instantly destroyed. Lan’s bond to Moiraine is passed automatically to another Aes Sedai, Myrelle as Moiraine had planned months ago. Myrelle was to pass the bond on to Nynaeve once the two lovers had grown strong enough. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Rand receives the news that Queen Morgase, queen of Andor and Elayne’s mother, had supposedly been murdered by the Forsaken Rahvin and invades Caemlyn with a small Aiel strike force in retribution. Almost immediately upon arriving by Traveling, however, Mat, Aviendha and Asmodean are killed. Shaken to the core by this, Rand pursues Rahvin until they both physically enter Tel’aran’rhiod, the Dream World. There, with Nynaeve’s help (who has Moghedien bound to her, but more on that later), Rand kills Rahvin with balefire, reviving Mat, Aviendha and Asmodean. Asmodean’s life, however, is short-lived this time. Just hours after coming back, he goes in search of drinks and killed by an unidentified entity. The person behind is not revealed for a long, long time, though.

Morgase, despite the rumors, had not been killed. Being very strong-willed, she manages to shake off the enchantments of Lord Gaebril (the nobleman that Rahvin was posing as) long enough to gather Tallanvor, a guardsman deeply in love with her, her old nurse Lini, a fiercely loyal innkeeper named Master Gill (who had once housed almost the entire cast of characters), and two commoners and escape Caemlyn. Morgase hopes to gather her old supports and regain her throne, and set off in a direction her enemies would never suspect: Amadicia, the home of the Children of the Light.

Meanwhile, Nynaeve, Elayne, Thom and Juilin learn of the division of the White Tower and search for the rebel Aes Sedai. They find shelter in a traveling menagerie when they accidentally encounter Galad, Elayne’s half-brother, who has joined the Children of the Light. They had been communicating with Egwene through Tel’aran’rhiod, and that is where Nynaeve meets Birgitte Silverbow, a legendary hero bound to the Horn of Velere and spun out of the Pattern to be rewoven back in when needed. Since she had already fought and nearly defeated Moghedien once more, Nynaeve faces the Forsaken again. However, Birgitte is thrown out of Tel’aran’rhiod into the waking world during the fight and almost killed. Elayne bonds her as her Warder despite not being a full Aes Sedai yet as the only way of saving her. Nynaeve manages to trap Moghedien with a Seanchan a’dam, using this to distract Rahvin enough so that Rand can kill him.

Siuan, Min, Leane and Logain have been traveling through dangerous lands as well. The women are obligated to swear service to Gareth Bryne (a Great Captain who had been in service to Queen Morgase and her lover before being exiled once the Queen came under Rahvin’s influence). They run off soon, though, reasoning that they had never mentioned when they would keep their oath, not even dreaming that Bryne would follow them with a small group of his own men, all the way to Salidar where the rebel Aes Sedai have gathered. They are not truly accepted back, with many blaming Siuan for the division of the White Tower, but they convince the rebels that Siuan and Leanne can be useful despite having been stilled.

Three things in this book truly stood out for me.

The first was, of course, the death of Moiraine. She had been such an integral part of the story so far that I felt almost as lost as Rand once I realized that she was gone. Her letter to him was painful, and it was a few days before I had the heart to pick the book back up. Rand’s reaction to her demise was so perfectly handled, I could almost feel his grief and confusion.

The second was another death: Asmodean. Without even realizing, I’d grown very attached to this hilarious Forsaken. Any scene with him had me either gripping the Kindle dangerously hard or just dropping it while I laughed out loud. His abrupt end had been flipping pages back and forth for a while to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood. But no, Asmodean really is gone. And so is Lanfear. What am I supposed to do with my life now?

The third was how much Morgase’s story intrigued me. It drew a lot of parallels with Siuan, in my eyes. Both were extremely powerful women in very high places who seemed infallible. And then their worlds come crashing down abruptly. They are very strong women, however, and take what they’re given. I definitely prefer Siuan over Morgase, obviously, but the former queen’s story felt different from the rest of the book. We have her strong will and her endless determination, of course, but there’s also the depthless love of a mother for her children in her thoughts. She’s constantly worrying about Galad and Gawyn and Elayne, and it just goes to show that she isn’t just the Queen of Andor, she is a devoted mother as well. I found that beautiful.

What I said at the beginning about Perrin still holds, however, and there were times when the plot did not seem to be going anywhere at all (the menagerie, anyone?). It’s not a high point, but it’s not entirely a low one either. I give it a solid 3/5. Not exactly great, but entirely bad at all.

I miss Asmodean

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vincemarie · 7 years ago

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Daryl, Bella and I went to dinner tonight at MaGerks in Horsham. It started with just Daryl and I, but Bella, while Daryl and I were halfway down Norristown Road heading to Horsham road, calls me to ask about my whereabouts. I told her that I had yelled up to her to let her know I was leaving. That I had thought she was sleeping.

“Can you and I go out to dinner? Grab a Sonic?”

“Of course baby. Would you mind going to dinner with Mr. Madden and I at MaGerks?”

“No, I don’t mind.” She says.

I make a U-turn. I look at Daryl and say “You don’t mind.” I already made the U-turn, so it’s basically my way of saying politely “You better make the right decision here buddy. Suck it up. I love you, but my baby comes first.”

Daryl and I have some drinks. He orders some IPA. Asks the bartender to surprise him with an IPA. I order a Bulleit neat. We stand outside on the patio. I smoke a cigarette. We talked about life. Daryl teases Bella as usual. She’s her smart-ass way.

I get texted that our table was open. We walk back to the hostess area, and back to where we were near the patio door. “Crowded.” I say.

“What did you expect? It’s Friday night.” Our fucking Bella says to me. I’m thinking “How the hell do you know what a Friday night at a sports bar looks like?”

I don’t order any food. Mama had stopped over earlier in the afternoon and dropped off some food. I had a bite then. I don’t eat typically after 4pm anyway. Except for our nightly snacks. That was a bad habit. But I loved that bad habit. It was our bad habit.

Bella ordered the Mild Wings and Fried Mozzarella Sticks. “Shirley Temple?” I ask Bella.

“Nah, I’m fine with my water.” She answers.

I’m impressed. Healthy. Good decision baby. Way to make the right decision on your own. No one forces you to make a decision. We raised your brother and you so that you could make the right decision. We cannot be there for you every minute to make decisions for you. We can only raise you to hopefully you make the right decision. The rest is on you. You make your own path. You are both strong, smart, talented, leaders, and most importantly, compassionate. That means the world to me. Compassion. To stand up for what is right by others around you is compassion. Both of you are activists. You do not approve of the system and you voice it in your own way. Neither you nor myself pushed our babies to do or say anything. We allowed them to express themselves. We never taught them religion. We only taught them to believe in a God, a spirit, a higher power, call it whatever, why put labels on it? Treat people the way you want to be treated. Love others. Stand up for what is right. Be tolerant of other cultures, religions, ideologies, philosophies, and always listen. Talk less, listen more.

Neither you nor Bella could ever shut the fuck up. You both talked more and listened less. Must be a female thing. You love listening to yourselves talk. Ladies, we tune you out. I am telling you. We learn to tune the dial, the pitch, the levels all down to “0”. We can hear everything else around us clearly.

“You don’t fucking listen to me.” You always said to me.

“I do.” I would always reply. “Babe, I do listen to you.” Reinforcing to cover a lie. I seriously don’t remember a fucking thing you told me. I don’t even remember what happened yesterday. I’m at “Overload” capacity. More shit in my brain cannot get in. So you telling me about your PTO at Maple Glen Elementary and the fundraising events you used to put on with the rest of the board, I really didn’t listen. I just nodded. nodded. nodded a little more. But my mind was elsewhere. My mind was working.

I dropped Daryl off to his house and drove back to our home. He was getting his cigars and heading over.

He and I had a great talk. He shared more of his stories. You loved his stories. You loved the way Daryl tells a story. No one could tell a story better than Daryl. He made you fucking laugh. Every time he made the open mouth “O” face you’d bust out laughing. Every story has an “O” face in it. His travels stories. His sick and twisted stories. Every one is better than the one before it. I remember once trying to tell a story that happened to Daryl and myself. It was a hysterical story that I can’t really share. I had to at one point stop myself and hand it over to Daryl to describe it to all. I was butchering it and I knew he’d do a better job at telling it. And of course, he killed it.

Earlier while he and I were driving, he confessed to me how much he misses you. He misses your constant harassment of him. In texts, in-person, over the phone, car window to car window, any means possible to you to lay an insult. Insults, one after the other. He loved it when you insulted him. He looked forward to them. He almost used to set you up so that you’d insult him. You made him laugh like no other. You made all of us laugh. I miss the way you used to make me laugh.

Yesterday was a lot of fun. I started it late in the day. I was lazy. I rented an AirBnB house in the city earlier in the week. Used to get us a room at the Monaco. This time, I wanted to change. I’m not ready to go to the Monaco. The Louix Award Show was last night. You loved attending the Louix’s. We were online looking for dresses for you a few days before I lost you.

Check into the house was at 3pm. I meet up with Jenn and David at the Studio first. I was picking Jennifer up first before we head to the house. We loaded your car with booze. Jenn and I headed over to the house. David was going to follow us there.

I invited Carla’s nephew Frankie to come to the award show with me. The kid has the “It”. He’s going places. Reminds me of myself when I was his age. I’m going to take him under my wing and teach him the advertising business. He said he wanted to get into marketing. Brace yourself there Frankie, it’s going to be a wild ride. See you on Monday.

He meets us at the house around 5pm. The Louix wasn’t starting until 6:30pm. We had time to drink, smoke, chill, dance, whatever. The house didn’t have any toilet paper. WTF? It has fucking Google Home, but no toilet fucking paper?

We had a blast laughing at silly shit. We were giddy. It was going to be a great night. All of us. Well, almost all of us. Rich and Charlie couldn’t make it. Rich is sick, still sick with a cold. Charlie was rehearsing for his role as the Beast in “Beauty and the Beast.” We’re all going to go see him perform. I asked him “How do you make a 5′ Jew into a 7′ Beast?” Laughingly. “Are your hooves also stilts?” I question him more. And in his Charlie way, he pauses to chew on a smart response to outdo my zinger. The best he came back with was that he keeps tripping on his shoes/hooves. Plus he’s wearing a long trailing cape that keeps obstructing his movement. I’m of course busting laughing at the image of him. I love him. He’s a fucking awesome guy. Honored to be working with such brilliance.

We got there around 6:45. We were supposed to Uber over there, but Jenn was running late getting dressed. She said her husband Michael and her would just catch up with us there. So David, Frankie and I take your car and head over to Sugar House Casino where the Louix Award Show is taking place. I valet. Next car pulling over beside me is Ameet. Perfect timing. So now there are 4 of us out of 17. Gather the troops. Where are we meeting? Everyone is running late.

We finally get to the venue. You would have loved it. Oh my God would you have loved it. You would have been in your element. All sexed up, looking stunning as you always did, and in the middle of the casino. You’d be in your fucking heaven.

I say my “hi’s” to almost everyone I know. Hugs all around. Everyone was kind and supportive, no one over did it, just “Love”. They try to console me, but they also understand that tonight it’s about having fun. We’ll all chat about it at a later date over drinks. Hit me up and I’ll make it happen.

All 17 of us start to gather together except for fucking Sarah, she was running as usual, late. Her and Lubna just flat out suck with getting anywhere on time. Their body clock is super fucking slow.

The show starts, we were outside smoking on the balcony. Fucking brilliant venue. Convenient for us smokers. I go inside and sit at a seat at one of our two tables.

Ginger and the rest of the board had placed this Louix trophy on my seat. When I read it, I choked and teared up.

Best of Show – Badass Bitch – Janine Fresta Marie – We Love You – Love Forever ADCP

We won Louix’s for the piece you worked on as the Prop Master. You have never done it in your life. But I trusted you’d pull it off. And pulling it off you fucking did. You were amazing. Just flat out amazing. Not because you were my wife, no, you know better from me. If you “suck” I’ll tell you. No baby, you fucking rocked that shit. You fucked up here and there, but nothing that you couldn’t fix. And you fixed it as a professional would.

The piece won for Corporate Video something, Original Music, and I think some other category I can’t recall what it was at the minute.

I can see you here working on it.

[fvplayer src=”https://vimeo.com/257238649″%5D

And here is the piece.

[fvplayer src=”https://vimeo.com/230911678″%5D

We won for “Video Scripting” on this piece. Thank you Doug. You fucking Rock. This Louix is yours. Love you.

https://vimeo.com/252938755

And we won “Corporate Communication” for this piece.

[fvplayer src=”vimeo.com/247836311″]

We hanged for a little, some of us headed back to the house, while others stayed behind. I was one of the ones that headed back to the house. I was spent. I needed quite. I couldn’t handle the noise. I needed peace.

Jenn and I Uber’ed back to the house. I was too fucked up to drive and so was Jenn. David ended up driving your car back to the house. We met up with Jenn’s husband Michael at the house.

Sarah, David and not sure who else was going to come later.

The house was okay, nothing really great about it. Fresh paint, minimal decor, all white. Modern with beautiful hardwood floors. 2nd floor has 3 nice-sized bedrooms. A bathroom centers the hallway connecting the bedrooms. I kept hearing the toilet water running. The 3rd floor is a master bedroom loft. That would be my room. I paid for the fucking house. I go first.

I wanted to take a quick power nap at 12:15am, but I choose to write to you instead. I needed to let you know. I couldn’t wait to tell you.

Matt Paul texts me that he’s on his way over. That he needed the address to the After After Party house. I text him the address back. He’s 15 minutes out. Perfect. Take a quick nap.

I climb the narrow steps down. I had my work boots on. I decided not to get all dressed up for the show. “Fuck it. I’m just going to be me.” I underdressed. You would have yelled at me had you and I went together and me looking like that. “You’re an asshole. I can’t believe you’re not even going to look nice. I can’t believe it.” A pause. “Could you please tell me what the fuck are you thinking? I don’t get it.” A breath. “Could you at least put some nice shoes on? I mean for fuck sake look how I’m going to look.” I’m just staring at you with a grin. Not a word. You already know. You accepted it. You accepted that I was going to do what I wanted to do, and no one was going to change my mind. But you tried. Your insults were your effort for me to change my mind.

I let you win some times. “Just make her happy, dumbass. Give this one up.” I’d tell myself and follow suit.

A knock at the door. It’s Matt, he made it. I greet him in, we hug again. Love is in the air.

I pop open a beer for him. I get my Honey Whiskey.

A knock at the door. I walk over and open the door. This you would have loved.

Let me set the scene up first.

Earlier in the day, we were investigating the house as anyone does when they first walk into a vacation home, a room at the hotel, a foreign frontier. Jenn opened the basement door and screamed back to me: “Oh my God, there are rat traps down the steps. Holy shit, the size on those traps. Come look at these Vince.”

I walk over and climb the first couple of steps down. They’re all lining up down the steps. Size of a foot long and hand in width. Wrapped in some film of plastic. We assumed it’s the sticky plastic that rats could escape before the hammer comes down snapping their necks in half. What an awful way to die. Imagine another more intelligent specie setting up human traps that snaps your neck in half. But before you do, we’re going to fucking trap you with this sticky plastic to freak the shit out of you before we kill you.

Isn’t there a more humane way to remove them?

Where was I? Right, the infamous “knock.”

I know I could tell you all about it. But I thought, an exchange between the landlord and myself earlier today will do just enough to explain what took place. I had received a text from the landlord with checkout instructions:

<– Me responding to his checkout instructions message –>

Thanks Frank. We’re all checked out. Tried our best to get it to its original shape when we walked in. I hate being a bitch about a few things that would better help your tenants have a better experience than we had: – Would be nice to have toilet paper stocked and available. Or at least an early heads up would have been appropriated.

– We had an interesting experience with a gentleman last night named Mike. He claimed to have seen one of our guests piss on a tree in the park across the street. He said he worked for the park and the Fine would be $300. I asked for his credentials and an ID, he handed me his drivers license. Ha. I politely asked him to write me the Fine and I would gladly pay it with the city. He threatened to call the police, at which point I advised him to do so and closed the front door. 5 minuets later he barges into the house demanding a resolution. I questioned him how he got into the house, he said he had a key and that he worked for you. Trying to resolve this issue, I ask him what can we do so he could leave us alone. “$20 and a beer.” He answers. “2 beers, no $20. You’re trying to hustle us?” I negotiate back. My producer hands him $20 and he left.

Not sure what type of operation this was, but totally unprofessional.

Have a great weekend.

Cheers, Vince

<– Frank –>

That’s totally not acceptable, this is my neighbor mike who has live there his whole life, while he does work for the parks department in no way is he someone who could write a fine. We have been letting mike take care of the trash weekly that is why he had a key. We will no longer be using his services, I wish you would have given me a call, I have no problem refunding the $20 plus for the toilet paper.

<– Me –>

Lmao. Save your $20 and the toilet paper. All good. We figured out what the odor was, we believe a rat was murdered down the basement last night. There must’ve been a rat massacre down there.

I think you may find one of our peeps stuck in the rat trap going down the basement steps. Just let him loose, he’s harmless.

Cheers, Vince

<– Frank –>

You guys are amazing, Please if you or anyone in your group find yourselves in Philadelphia again and need accommodations for the night, it’s completely on us we have more than just this place! We have about 15 other places all throughout South Philadelphia and Fishtown. So just let us know and we got you covered!!!

<-End->

I had a cup of coffee late today. I’m wired. But I need to stop writing to you now. I have to go get some rest. Last night I had a rough night sleep.

Good night my sweet.

I love you,

Day 20: Daryl, Bella and I went to dinner tonight at MaGerks in Horsham. It started with just Daryl and I, but Bella, while Daryl and I were halfway down Norristown Road heading to Horsham road, calls me to ask about my whereabouts.

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