#reference to the mercy street players

[jomiddlemarch]

the better part of valor

“And this is Captain Miller,” Mary said, keeping her voice low. The man, a pallor beneath his tanned skin, dark shadows under his eyes, had taken a turn for the worse in the night, a consequence perhaps of being assigned to Dr. Hale, and she was loathe to wake him any earlier than she must. Hale would bluster about his time being valuable, but Jed was more likely to shrug and then expound upon what any decent physician could glean from a simple observation. If they had had coffee and not chicory, he might go on at some length, clearly enjoying himself while also waiting to see if the patient would rouse to the sound of his voice. If Jed sidled a bit closer in these circumstances, the hint of a smile almost concealed by his beard, the admiration in his gaze more obvious, Mary could not be held responsible or accused of any untoward behavior ill-suiting a Head Nurse.

“He ain’t. He’s Major Miller,” the young boy in the next bed piped up. 

“Indeed?” Jed said. He barely needed to pivot to take in the youngster, the beds having been pulled closer together than Mary ordinarily allowed. It meant the ward could hold a few more wounded, but she’d acquiesced primarily to assuage the boy’s combination of imperious demand and abject pleading. It happened this way sometimes, a pair or trio of soldiers came in together and it was apparent that their bond went beyond the battle or the uniform. 

“I see no evidence of such an elevated rank,” Jed added. “Perhaps you’re mistaken, a head injury can cause confusion—”

“I know what I know.” Beneath the bandages, the boy’s eyebrows drew together. Stubborn he was and though Mary was certain he’d lied about his age and very possibly about his name and sex given the binding she’d discovered under his newspaper-lined coat, she recognized the ring of truth in his expression and the flatness of his voice.

“Then you know better than the Union Army?” Jed countered. He’d taken chicory but there’d been fresh milk and Mary had poured with as lavish a hand as her New England upbringing would allow. Jed was in good spirits and was sure to regale her with a thorough medical assessment of the young private when they left the ward. 

“He got a whaddyacallit, a brevet, after what he did a month ago. Should’ve gotten a passel of them, all the Rebs he’s got, sir,” the boy said. 

“For gallantry on the field,” Jed said.

“Not gallantry,” the boy said, shaking his head as much as he could. Mary had attended to his dislocated shoulder herself, strapping him securely without disturbing the muslin tightly wound around his, or rather her, chest. “He’s the bravest man I know, the bravest man in the whole Union Army, and I wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t—if he didn’t—”

Something, a memory most likely, had overtaken the boy and his voice had risen before he broke off, worryingly soprano, enough to draw attention to the discussion and to the smoothness of his cheeks washed free of dirt and dried blood, the slightness of his frame. Carrying a flag and a drum, he’d be taken for what he said he was, but here, in the narrow cot, the bandages around his head like the nuns’ wimples, he was in danger of discovery and his champion Major Miller slept on, unable to defend with a distraction. Someone must intervene before Jed was forced to ask questions Mary knew he would rather defer, a truth undiscovered one he needn’t act on as either Doctor or Captain Foster, could trust to her discretion.

“I’ll be sure to make of note of the Major’s rank, Private Elton,” Mary said, lingering just a little on the name the boy had given her when she’d asked, a subtle reminder of the role that had been undertaken. He’d stumbled over it, really, salvaging the near-disastrous admission by coughing, first clumsily as Mary recalled the poor acting of the man rehearsing as Juliet when Corporal Gielgud had spiked a fever and been unable to tread what passed for the hospital’s theater boards, and then with the convulsive hacking that those who’d breathed in too much smoke and dust were prone to. Ellen was most likely or Eleanor, Elizabeth more commonly shortened to Lizzie or Betsy, not the El— that had been abandoned. The people she’d left behind must fear for her greatly, unless there were none left, Elton an orphan or a poor relation the larder barely stretched to feed.

“He rode a horse gut-shot,” Elton offered. “Major Miller was shot, not the horse.”

“A helpful, though unnecessary, clarification,” Jed remarked. “Exceedingly helpful for the horse, one imagines.”

“Took out two snipers while he did it,” Elton went on, undeterred by Jed’s comment. “They would’ve killed me but he could’ve not got wounded. Belly’s bad to get hurt—” 

Jed picked up Major Miller’s wrist and after a few seconds, nodded, raising an eyebrow in that rapid assessment he was capable of, indicating he thought the man would live but that he’d have had a better chance under Jed’s hands than Hale’s. It was enough for Mary to go on with; she always found it easier to tell the truth and to lie by omission.

“I’m sure he was glad to do his duty. To keep you safe,” she said. She had half-expected another argument, that protecting Elton wasn’t Miller’s duty, that it was unreasonable to be kept safe in a battle, to have a stranger become your closest ally, but Elton stayed quiet.

“His injury isn’t terrible, though you’re correct that abdominal wounds have generally worse outcomes,” Jed said. Elton gave Jed such a glare of skeptical scrutiny it was all Mary could do to keep from chuckling. “I’ve seen worse and I’ve seen plenty,” he said, direct as he could be when it was needful.

“You ain’t the one they call the Butcher, are you?” Elton asked.

Jed choked on the laugh he couldn’t suppress despite the quelling glance Mary gave him.

“No, I haven’t been given that esteemed title. It belongs to our other surgeon, whose efforts your comrade appears to have weathered. Major Miller likely possesses a hearty constitution and an ample degree of, shall we say, fortitude?”

“He’s got grit and he’s obstinate as my Aunt Phaedra’s mule, if that’s what all your high-falutin’ words mean,” Elton said. This time, Mary permitted herself to smile.

“I’ll watch over him myself,” Mary said. “And you may send any of the orderlies for me if you are worried, I’ll come as quick as I can.”

“And now, young Elton,” Jed said, the name uttered with a sincerity that was undercut by the acute acknowledgement of his gaze, “you may rest easy, for there is no one here who is more determined to keep a man alive, even if he should wish to argue, than our Head Nurse. She should merit her own brevet, save that there is no higher post for her to ascend to, given that Lincoln’s still in the White House and the Mother Mary Veronica assures me God occupies His throne.”

[tornioduva]

A rant about spaces in games

As a person who's not in the industry and has never been yet in a development environment, and so has mainly just seen things from a player perspective:

Many, MANY, years ago was understood that if you wanted to give the idea of a big place, a big city, a big valley, a big landscape in general, OF COURSE you wouldn't just make it 1:1 in size and just put it there, it would be a waste of resources, time, effort, all for something that's needed only to convey a sense of scale and nothing else. Instead you would put some 2d images in the distance, an elaborate skybox, maybe some 3d more detailed object and bam, you had a big scenery, though fake. if it was a city, you would just put a wagon with fruit and vegetables, or a car, in front of a road that extends and bam, you have the image of a city that extends beyond the corners of the playable map.

Now more than ever instead there is this toxic obsession with "if the player sees it, then it must be explored, or have an active gameplay purpose", and a general perceived distaste for the concept of creating illusion, while going full simulation.

Now, to clarify: this is not a condemnation of all modern games, this is mainly a thing in AAA and AA games, also i'm not blaming any developers (i don't know how a game is made, how much pressure from above you have, how this might be the only way to keep the boat afloat in terms of sales and marketing), and also i can clearly see that this is not a dead concept; the contrary even! There are a lot of modern (though indie) games that take advantage of limited visibility to convey scale, or complexity, guiding the player imagination but leaving it work by itself. The success of games like Iron lung i think speaks volume about it.

The fact is, even among AAA games i liked and had high hopes for, i can't avoid to be a little sad about how bloated they are with this mentality. The two games that sparked these thoughts are mainly elden ring and tears of the kingdom.

In TotK case, i was sad to see how little they learned from BotW, at least in this regard; instead of closing in on the freedom of the predecessor to give a different, more intense and story driven experience, they doubled down on the original formula and expanded even more. Instead of removing, or readapting, the useless empty space in hyrule, the created even more empty space somehow, and filled it with junk that bloats everything even more. I like this formula, don't get me wrong, just...more often than what i wanted to in both games i found myself on the edge of a cliff, on the backside of a mountain, in a small hole, with nothing there and nothing particularly interesting to see or get, and i thought "why am i here, why am i allowed to be here, why isn't this just background seen from a distance"

In elden ring though i think there is the perfect, more poignant example: Leyndell. The first time i was inside the walls and saw the city, i was awestruck. it was beutiful, intricate, interesting, full of peculiar places. i couldn't wait to explore it all and for once in that game i wasn't overwhelmed with "toomanythingstodotoomanyplacestogo"itis, because i wanted to see it all. i love cities, especially old and ancient ones, love exploring them, lose myself in small streets and alleys. i was genuinelly amazed by the fact that it was completely explorable, and absolutely happy for it. After i've seen it all though, it hit me: ...it's a really small city. like, it's big from a player perspective, there is a lot to do and explore. but it's a pretty small city. I live near Lucca, in Tuscany, so i have a pretty good reference to judge it on, and i think (roughly and without measures, have mercy uhuh) Leyndell and Lucca are nearly the same size, Lucca might be bigger infact uhuh. And even if it's not and Lyndell is bigger, still, after seeing it all it FEELS small. because you've seen it all. Compare Leyndell to Anor Londo instead, and tell me which one of the two FEELS like a gigantic, enormous capital, full of streets, palaces and places for people; and of Anor Londo you only explore like a handful of rooftops uhuh. This might be just a sensation of mine, but the fact the capital of the biggest game Fromsoft has made to date feels smaller than in DS1 where you were dramatically more limited in where you could go....well, that to me is a failure of environment design, at least on an artistic side, in regar to setting up the atmosphere, not in regard to gameplay.

Do i mean with this that open world are always bad, that you should always be limited in where you can go? absolutely not! i love having freedom of exploration, and i like the idea that i can go where i can see! i just wish going forward that developers with the resources to do big projects like these are given the freedom, and the guidance, to guide the players more, to build rails on which our explosive passion of playing can be directed on without letting die out on a rock in the middle of nowhere that you're standing on for no reason. A good example for this i feel is outer wilds! you're free to go where you want, but you are limited by what there actually is to explore, plus the central gimmick. also, all there is to explore is interesting and meaningful, without collectables!

Also, i'm not criticizing empty space at all even. I recently played BABDI, and that is a masterful example of empty, "meaningless" space that is there for a reason, which is the atmosphere of the game. the fact you can explore almost all of the city while there is almost nothing interesting to discover aside from few things, contributes a ton the overall atmosphere.

So, what i'm saying is: developers, go to more theatre plays; not the big budget ones, that can afford all they want, i mean the small local ones, that are able to make you fell like you are in a ballroom with a fancy chair, a stool and a lamp.

[squirrelwithatophat]

Did you know that there are whipping posts in the Kirkwall Gallows?

They’re rather easy for players to miss. You can see them in the background during The Last Straw (Act 3), and as early as Act 1 (and continuing into Act 2), Circle mages can be heard complaining, “Don’t talk to me. The templars will give me thirty lashes if they see me speaking to a civilian.” During the quest A Noble Agenda (Act 3), a woman reports seeing a mage cousin “whipped, half-starving” while pleading for mercy from a literal “death squad.”

In-universe, however, the whippings in the Gallows appear to be common knowledge. During Repentance (Act 2), we can see a whipping post (the exact same model observed in the Gallows later on) being used for sexual roleplay in the Harimann Estate in Hightown.

Lord Harimann: Now, you be the naughty apprentice, and I’ll be the Templar torturer.

It’s Played For Laughs here of course, but it really says something that citizens of Kirkwall know about Templar abuses in the Gallows and just how awful conditions are there — including the use of whipping posts. This isn’t even the only instance in the game of random NPCs referring to the severity of the repression and the rampant cruelty.

For example…

During The Destruction of Lothering (Prologue):

Hawke: I heard someone call this fortress the Gallows. Is it a prison?

Guardsman Wright: Used to be, back in the Imperial days. They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed.

Outside Lirene’s shop, during Tranquility (Act 1):

Refugee: Hey! We heard you in there. Asking about the healer. We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain't gonna happen to him.

Speaking to the sister of a Templar during Enemies Among Us (Act 1):

Macha: Keran was always so devout, so idealistic. He was so proud when the templars accepted him. I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone.

Hawke: (“Are templars so bad here?”) In Lothering, some templars died protecting villagers. I never heard any dark rumors.

Macha: And those are the stories my Keran adored. But it is not like that here, serah. There is a growing darkness in the order. They prowl the streets in packs. Hunting. And now, they say their duties put them above us, that they have the right to... take people from their homes. It is frightening.

Hawke: (“Tell me about Meredith”) What do people say about Knight-Commander Meredith?

Macha: Oh, she has many admirers. They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things.

During Wayward Son (Act 1):

Feynriel: Look, I know it's different in other kingdoms, but here... no one helps Circle mages. Anything the templars don't like, you get the brand.

During Underground Railroad (Act 2):

Hawke: Helping apostates is dangerous. If the templars caught you...

Mistress Selby: One of my sisters is a mage. A gentle child, so generous. She was made Tranquil last year. Templars claimed she was a danger. Now... it's like she's not there. That shouldn't be forced on anyone.

In Sundermount (Act 3), if Feynriel escapes to Tevinter:

Arianni: I hear the templars have grown more abusive of the mages in Kirkwall. I'm glad Feynriel is no longer subject to their whims.

By the Docks, any Act:

Unnamed Woman: I feel sorry for the mages sometimes, you know? What a terrible thing, to be used by everyone.

Knight-Captain Cullen even admits that the common folk suspect them and have become hostile towards the Templars. There’s this exchange in Act 1:

Hawke: The templars defend us all.

Cullen: That's a surprisingly unpopular viewpoint. It used to be that templars were welcomed wherever they went—for defending people from dark magics. Now the townsfolk are as likely to slam their doors as offer us a bed. The image of the poor, chained apprentice is a powerful one. And one the mages are more than willing to exploit.

Then there’s the codex for the Mage Underground (available in Dissent, Act 2), written by Cullen:

Every Circle in Thedas suffers from individual mages who rebel and attempt to flee… Until now, I have never served anywhere that the populace does not fully cooperate in hunting these rebels. Here in Kirkwall, citizens actually help rebel mages escape.

In World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 173), from a note dated 9:25 (set between Acts 2-3) from a mage of the Hossberg Circle in the far away Anderfels: 

I have heard that in the Kirkwall Gallows, mages are locked in their cells with barely room to stretch, let alone exercise.  I can promise you that any mage of the Anderfels would be stark raving mad after a week of such treatment... No wonder Kirkwall has such trouble with blood mages.

Even relative newcomers recognize the situation right away. For example, when speaking to Grand Cleric Elthina in the Chantry (Act 1):

Hawke: Why are Circle mages here kept in a Tevinter prison?

Elthina: Ah. So soon you take an interest in our problems. The short answer is, it was a building. A large one. Should it have sat empty? The Chantry found a use for what was once a horror. It is the nature of men to move on and forget the past. Even your Blight will be a distant memory in our lifetimes.

Isabela: “Once a horror?” Yes, I'm sure it's filled with flowers and sunshine and happiness now.

Even Fenris, who supports Meredith’s policies, immediately notices (first entry into the Gallows, Act 1 or 2):

Fenris: I've... heard about the Circle of Magi outside of the Imperium, but I've never been in one. This seems more like a prison. I wonder if it's more effective than the Circle I know.

Given all this, it’s hard to believe that the people in power in Kirkwall don’t know (or at the very least suspect) what’s going on — more likely, they simply just don’t care.

Or perhaps they think it’s acceptable. As Cassandra says of the Seekers of Truth in Inquisition, “We knew what was happening at Kirkwall, where the mage rebellion began. We looked into reports of Knight-Commander Meredith’s harsh treatment of her charges years earlier. But we found so many shocking cases of magical corruption, it was decided her actions were justified.”

[noisessobbingdistant]

Metal Mania #8 — Page 2

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Well, here it is! The most venomous attack on your ears your eyes will ever read! Since Ron has been away, it’s been up to me to make sure the show goes on. Ronald has been hanging out with Ulrich Roth, getting blitzed blazing drunk, seeing all my favorite bands…I hate him! The biu Cheese boy himself should be returning in about a month and we’ll begin work on issue #9 which will include: Steve Hammond interviews Venom, plus many interviews and reviews of bands Ron’s been seeing—Budgie, Baron Rojo, Uli, Scons, Y&T, Accept, Merciful Fate, Silver Mountain, Judas Priest, a history and evolution of Anvil Chorus, Metallica and lots more metal. Though this issue has’nt turned out perfect (I’ve had rewalk all the steps Ron took for his first publishing venture) and it’s a bit late, I think it’s worth it as its a double sized issue. Please appreciate the fact that this is a one man operation. Special apologies for all hte spelling fuck ups and to any ignorance or negligence I may have demonstrated in these pages. 

Special Thanx to: The Record Vaulters, The corner liquor store, Ron, the Aardschok screw, Mike (Mr.) Varney, The Vienna Boys Choir, Scabie Crowders, Adam the ignoramous, Dudley, Mike, Thundercrowders, KUSF, Ness Aquino, The Waldorf, The do-nut shop, The worsening posture boys, Jenny, The bum on market street, Guiness Stout and Tuborg Dark, Howie (for getting the Rampage rolling), Pimpin Sir Player Baby J, everyone who I forgot and especially all of you crazed metal maniacs out there! Yeeaaah! Metal Mania is published semi-monthly at $1- per copy (£1.00 in Europe) Metal Mania offices are located at 4340 20 St. San Fran., Calif. 94114 & at 1460 Webster St. San Fran., Calif. 94115 USA. This issue (c) copywright 1982 Axemuder Ltd. No part of this edition what so ever may be reprinted without written consent of this issue of Metal Mania’s editor—Ian Kallen. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED. Unless the article is signed by someone else, all “me”s refer to me, Editor, Writer, Publisher and Big Cheese of the month: 

Ian Kallen

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[incorrect-dishonored-quotes]

Do you have a favorite level within each game or even one out of all games / is there a specific level that stuck in your mind since you first played it?

Mine would be the second to last I think in DH1. The one, where you walk over a bridge and it's all orange light on one side and deep shadows on the other. In daud's dlcs it would be the boyle mansion, because I love the flooded building. I've loved the edge of the world in DH2 because Karnaca's atmosphere is such a breath of fresh air and the trail of whale blood through the bright and sunny district reveals very much about the game's world. For DOTO it would either be the bank job or the royal conservatory. It may sound pretty weird but the atmosphere within the bank job gives me vacation vibes lol. Also the moment you take the twin bladed knife feels amazing every time. I also really like the hidden features in the royal conservatory.

Thank you for running this blog, it really means a lot to me. Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈

Honestly all the levels in the DH series has a lot of personality in them, and so much visual storytelling. Each one has a different feeling to it while all matching up to eachother perfectly. Never do I feel like one doesn't belong with the others, they all feel part of the same world, and they feel so lived in too.

Everyone has their favorites, and you picked some good ones. I think youre refering to Kaldwin's Bridge which is a very well done level and is certainly pretty to look at, but its rather big with a lot of loading points, and it's a bit choppy and tedious for me. I do like the area around Sokolov's house though. The test subjects imprisoned in the streets and the crumbling buildings around his perfect apartment is great environmental storytelling. Personally my favorite in Dh1 is The Flooded District. The reflection it paints for Corvo, that after everything, things can still get worse and there's still a light at the end and he can't give up. That even after hating Hiram Burrows and wishing death on him, Daud hides there, in the mass grave Burrows made, protected by the rats, flood waters, rivercrusts, and weepers. It's just *chef's kiss*.

I think the one in Daud's dlc's is actually Brigmore Manor, which is one hell of a level. We learn that Daud and Delilah have a lot in common just by the way they work. They both have large followings they share their power with, hidden under everyone's nose. Dispite this, the difference in atmosphere tells the player that Daud is trespassing here. He's met someone who can match him, maybe even best him, and he has to be careful not to lose what little he has left. Brigmore is probably my fave too, but The Surge comes very close. Being in Daud's base, cutting up Overseers, and freeing his Whaler kids is very satisfying.

Edge of the World is a great intro to Karnaca. You get a feel for the atmosphere, learn about smaller power struggles (Howlers vs Overseers), and get a feel for just how bad things are there. I love taking my time in this level, finding the runes and talking to Mindy Blanchard just because it is a very pretty level that's fun to explore. I also like how it ironically leads you to Addemire, which is dark and claustrophobic. My fave in DH2 though is Crack in the Slab. Going between timelines wasn't something I'd done in a videogame before, and it made learning about Aramis Stilton and the rest of Delilah's allies extremely interesting. I love the little details you can mess with in the past to convenience you in the present too. There's a lot to go though twice over in that level, and I always find something new each playthrough. Also, in the ambience music in the present, you can hear a rhythmic banging, and I theorize you can hear the miners being overworked from Aramis' home.

And then there's DOTO... DOTO, my beloved. This game really brought Billie Lurk's character to life and I enjoy every second of it. My fave here would be Follow the Ink, for reasons similar as to why I like Edge of the World. It's nice to explore and there's so much to do story-wise, and even more to just find or interact with. I do wish the story flowed from one point on the map to the other, like how Edge of the World slowly lead you to the black market, wall of light, overseer outpost, then to Addemire Station. I find I'm going back and forth a lot in Follow the Ink, but that's nit-picking. If anything, it gives me time to stumble across things more. I will say though, The Bank Job is probably the strongest level in the game, and the writing is the best there. Billie getting a hold of the knife, pointing a finger in The Outsider's face and telling him she's coiming, no matter what it takes, only for The Outsider to look her in the eyes and tell her that Daud, the closest Billie had ever come to family, is dead?... Heartbreaking. I'm racing back to the ship. I know he's lying, and he has to be, right? But nope, he wasn't. Billie burning her ship called Dreadful Wale, an anagram for Farewell Daud, as his pyre hurts so much. I love the very ending too and how Daud is low chaos option, and to be honest, I shouldn't have been surprised by that. Ironically, mercy and forgiveness were themes in the background of Daud's dlcs.

Some honorable mentions would be:

-Bottle Street/Holger Square: Learning about Overssers, Slackjaw, Granny Rags and you get to see my man Geoff Curnow! Please switch the poison btw.

-Lady Boyle's Last Party: You fuck around with guards and rich ppl bc they think you're one of them and that's quite the critique on the upperclass huh. Don't forget to sign the guestbook as The Empress' alleged assassin!

Return to The Tower: Hiram Burrows is finally his own undoing, and his worst nightmares have come true! What a satisfying downfall. How poetic. Bitch deserved everything he got.

-Light at the End: In high chaos, Martin shoots Pendleton after calling him inbred and that's hilarious to me. Also in low chaos. Emily will scold Havelock and tell him to "sit in the corner and think about what [he's] done!" In honesty, it's a good climax.

-Eminent Domain: Timpsh's downfall in low chaos is one of the most poetic and well written eliminations in the games. Seeing him faint in front of a General of the City Watch always makes me laugh.

-Coldridge Prison: Revisiting the place as Daud and seeing how it's changed since Corvo's escape was very interesting. There's a lot of details to interact with like other prisoners, executions, and doomed escape attempts.

-Addemire Institute: The Crown Killer was an interesting antagonist, and there's a lot of notes and clues to what Addemire was like before The Duke ruined it. The entire situation is very tragic, but not all is lost!

-The Dust District: It's just really fun to explore Karnaca ok? Also Corvo's old house is there.

-Hole in the World: I love how it hints that there's a low chaos option, but you don't realize it until you talk with Daud’s spirit and all the hints come together. I like wandering around the place too since we don't get to see The Void this much anywhere else.

Sorry this was so long, but I really love how well thought out these game are, and I really rambled! Happy pride to you too!

[dinopopduck]

Ezekiel Only Being Unaffected By Certain Kinds of Magic

Let’s just start with me saying this isn’t exactly a new theory. It’s the demigod thing, and it’s a fairly popular one. If you haven’t heard of this headcannon, I put as much as I can find here. If you have, I found a bunch of new stuff that I haven’t seen anyone else mention, so reading this isn’t a complete waste of your time, I hope.

I tried to keep this from becoming wordy, but it got really long anyway, because there was a lot to talk about here.

Ezekiel being unaffected by magic is sort of an ongoing thing in the show. He is influenced by it much of the time, such as by Santa’s Hat, Pan’s Flute, Prospero’s spell, lycanthropy, etc. When it comes to the stuff he was seemingly completely immune to, there is one link that connects them all.

Apple of Discord: Everybody knows this one. The Apple is a Greek artifact, meant to turn you into the worst version of yourself, and Ezekiel was only one completely unaffected. It’s blamed on “he’s already the worst version of himself” or whatever.

Zeus Lightning Bolt: the episode where Ezekiel ends up decked out in Greek armor, and is sent to pick up Zeus’ Lightning Bolt, which was freaking out and zapping everywhere. He picks it up just fine, and he’s then able to hand it off to Flynn. It may have been purely because of the Greek armor he was wearing, but Flynn did not seem so sure about that working.

Cindy’s Love Potion: Ezekiel is able to be near the potion without becoming obsessed with Cindy. At first, it’s blamed on him being obsessed with himself, then later Jacob tells Ezekiel that he was already in love with Cindy. It was an obsession, not a love, potion you literally spent the episode proving that blah blah, he didn’t even recognize her at first blah blah, anyway, I have a better reason.

There are two Greek mentions in this episode. First, the potion project itself is called Project Aphrodite, a Greek goddess. Second, the sunflowers; when asked, Jenkins mentions how sunflowers are a Greek symbol of unrequited love. In addition, “love” potions may have originated in Greece, or at the very least, were common enough to have multiple sites claim that, lol. At the end of the season, where each librarian uses their gifts to turn Apep mortal, this greek potion is what Ezekiel ends up using.

See a pattern here? Everything that he was completely unaffected by was Greek in some way. So, he has an immunity to these kinds of artifacts, but why? I vote demigod.

Anyway, moving on.

Here’s some magic he could have been immune to, or could not have been. Its pretty debatable.

Fortuna: Technically a Roman Goddess, but the show does acknowledge how similar they are to Greek Gods. He may have been affected by the spell, but broke out of it pretty quick. Some think he may not been affected at all; slot machines aren’t exactly fair, especially in a casino that exists to cheat completely. As for Ezekiel getting so upset over losing, what he says, “Not the guy that loses, I’m the guy that wins” sounds very similar to what he was saying in Point of Salvation, but that’s a whole nother topic.

Alternately, he was affected and this point shouldn’t be here. I don’t know, I’m not the writers.

Libris Fabula: He was a little bit affected, just far less than the others, as he acted pretty much the same. He did get a barely noticeable clothing change, became luckier than normal, and was just able to cast a spell for some reason? Speaking out that spell, it froze the guy, and a certain Greek God does have the ability to put people to sleep. Not really the same thing, but worth thinking about. Maybe. More on that later.

Most people think he was immune, but he could have just been similar enough to the character he was portraying that he didn’t need to change a whole lot.

These ones are barely worth mentioning, because have other reasonable (though I guess your definition of reasonable may be different from mine) explanations, but you could see them as magic immunity as well:

Silver Screen: Ezekiel gets into character the least, while Cassandra and Jacob are out singing and calling people by their character names. Maybe less affected, maybe just a spoilsport. Probably the last one.

Point of Salvation: Was the only one able to remember previous loops. Since they were in a video game, it’s explained that since he was the first through the door, he became the player while everyone else became NPCs. I mean, sure.

Christmas Thief: Saint of Thieves only used his truth telly power on Ezekiel’s mother, not him. Ezekiel did not feel obligated to say anything. Could just be that the guy wasn’t talking to Ezekiel. Or, earlier in that episode Ezekiel tells his mother he doesn’t steal anymore (at least for anything other than the Library, I assume, cause he still kinda does) and therefor that made him immune to the spell, since it only works on thieves.

Image of an Image: Both Cassandra and Ezekiel got their pictures taken, and Cassandra was the only one affected by the transfer spell. However, Ezekiel wasn’t one of the “chosen ones” because he snuck in, and jumped in front of the camera while Eve (one of the “chosen ones”, who was later able to be affected) turned away. Either that, or he just didn’t have time to feel the effect, since his picture was taken after Cassandra’s, and Eve’s was placed in manually.

That’s all the possible instances of magic immunity I could think of.

Next, we have some other stuff that is relevant to this point, but wasn’t necessarily artifact/magic immunity.

Prophecy Cube: Created by the Oracle of Delphi, who is from Greek mythology. This isn’t about whether Ezekiel was affected by something, as he was still able to use the prophecy glass/get stuck in the cube. Rather, it’s about the Zeus Challenge in the cube. They probably would have died in there, but luckily, Ezekiel had just happened to steal, and keep on him, the exact thing they needed to get through– a bunch of golden coins, and a prophecy that ensures at least one coin can’t be destroyed. Luck? Prophecy? Divine Intervention? Plot convenience? Okay its probably the last one but STILL

Also, Ezekiel getting pissed at Zeus.

Zeus’s Bolt (again?): There is a promo image I think for season 4? that has each of the Librarians holding their tools. Jacob had his axe, Cassandra had a notebook, Flynn had Excalibur, all normal, except for Eve and Ezekiel. Eve had this big staff thing I didn’t recognize, and Ezekiel had Zeus’ Bolt for some reason?

Lightning, just, in general: If there is wild electricity in an episode, Ezekiel is probably around.

Examples:

City of Light: Gets shocked and knocked backwards into Jacob by a very electrified fence, gets up right afterwards and is fine.

Broken Staff: The Zeus Bolt thing, you get it.

Image of an Image: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob. Jacob was not really fine. He lived, though.

Point of Salvation: Ezekiel electrocutes Jacob part 2 Electric Boogaloo, but this time on purpose. He was not fine. He died. But don’t worry, he lived.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy: Mentioned a little bit above, Ezekiel, Jacob, and a student get stuck in the Zeus Challenge, and Ezekiel uses some coins he just so happened to steal recently. Throwing them on tiles shows whether or not lightning will strike if it was stepped on. Seriously, why is it ALWAYS Jacob?

The Dark Secret: Ezekiel is the one sent to wrap a cord around a lightning rod constantly being struck by lighting. “Why am I bloody doing this”, he asks? I mean, Zeus probably isn’t going to kill his descendent(?), right?

Werewolves: Have you heard of the Lycaon of Arcadia? It’s a Greek myth. Basically, this dude named Lycaon wants to test how smart and all-knowing Zeus is. To do so, he kills his own son, cooks him, and serves him to Zeus to see if he notices, ya know, no biggie. Zeus was like “wtf man” and brings the son back to life, and turns Lycaon into, you guessed it, a wolf. So, Zeus creates a werewolf of sorts, maybe one of the firsts. In Fangs of Death, Ezekiel just so happens to be the one (main) character to be turned into werewolf. So, if he was a descendant of Zeus, imagine how big of a “fuck you” that was to the god. That all being said, Ezekiel was turned by an Egyptian god, so that might not have been intentional. Also, they may have just been avoiding turning Jacob, because there is already a werewolf named Jacob and they didn't want another Twilight reference in that episode.

Family/Name: Ezekiel is adopted, and his adoptive mother mentions how she took him in off the streets. Because of that, we don’t know who his birth parents are, and whether or not he, or anyone else, knows is unknown. Soooo, we can take some creative liberties as to who his parents might have been.

As for his name, it carries some religious connotations. It should be remembered though, the meanings I’m talking about here are Biblical, not Greek, so again, might mean nothing for this argument. “Ezekiel” is “God’s Strength” or “God will Strengthen”. Jones might also be something like “God is gracious” or “God has favored”, thought different sites say different things. However, I’m pretty sure the name Jones came from his adoptive mother, and apparently Jones is a common last name in Australia. His first name is more relevant, because all of his siblings have themed names; Mercy, Charity, and Honor. So, either his mom named him differently because she knew something we don’t, or he already had the name before she adopted him. Either way, this probably means absolutely nothing. But what are we here for? To analyze a dead show like an English teacher analyzes the color of curtains in an 100 year old text. If it wasn’t for all the other stuff, I probably wouldn’t think about this too much.

Okay. So Greek stuff, lightning, and Zeus himself come up a LOT when it comes to this guy. So is Ezekiel the son of Zeus? Possibly, but a more popular theory is that he’s Zeus’ grandson. Because Zeus’ son just so happens to be Hermes; god of things such as luck, travel, money, trade, and most importantly, thieves. Oh, and animal husbandry/shepherds and sleep, I don’t know how much those apply but I will try.

Time for some comparisons, honestly most of these don’t even need to be explained so I’ll keep it short-ish, cause this shit has gotten way too long already.

Luck: Ezekiel, especially in the first season, likes to rely on luck, and tends to be very lucky in general. Examples where this is mentioned include Fables of Doom and Apple of Discord. “Smarter to be lucky then lucky to be smart!”

Travel: We can assume that he ended up traveling in his previous job (that being heists all over the world) fairly often, even before the Library. Becoming a Librarian with a teleporting door increased that of course.

Money: Steals very high-value items to sell. Also apparently likes to take money from his coworker’s wallets. And probably everyone else’s.

Trade: The aforementioned high-value pieces he steals are traded/sold for money. In Christmas Thief, we find out he kept none of the money or items, giving it away to others who needed it. That kinda fits this category, I think.

Thieves: I really don’t need to explain this. Unless you haven’t seen the show.

Animal Husbandry/Shepherds?: Basically the care of animals. Um, well he doesn’t keep cows or anything, but he has a tendency to “adopt” magical creatures that need help. Stumpy, Nessie Jr., maybe Frankenstein’s Monster as well?

Sleep: I mentioned earlier how Ezekiel froze a guy (not really in an icy way, just couldn’t move) by hitting him with his coin. Hermes is able to send people to sleep with his Caduceus (the snake wand thing). Yeah, it’s not really the same thing, though you could consider being frozen a kind of sleep. He could have just been lucky enough to find a magical coin, and lucky enough to figure out how to use it at the exact right time without even knowing what it did. It’s a stretch either way, really, and was never explained in the episode at all. Yeah, I can't find anything else that fits.

Hermes is considered to be a thief and trickster, and a lot of the things he is god of are Ezekiel’s main occupations. With all those similarities to Hermes, frequent events related to lightning and Zeus related things, and immunity to Greek artifacts, we can conclude that he is perhaps the son of Hermes, taking after his father in abilities and getting visits from grandpa.

Alternatively, his somehow IS Hermes, but I doubt that. He’d probably be way more powerful. He was also able to see the future with Prophecy Glass, which Jenkins claims is impossible for immortals to do (although in that case he was talking about a Prophecy Cube, but close enough). It’s more likely that he is a demigod.

Okay, that is all I can think of that is relevant. I binged the series about two months ago, and have been thinking about this theory. I went ahead and re-watched the episodes that I mentioned in more detail, as well as parts of others that I remebered. The reason I bring this up is because I may have missed things. I did not rewatch a majority of the episodes, more that I looked at a list of episodes on wikipedia and tried to remember what happened in them, watching clips and episodes if I needed to.

The show was cancelled, so we’ll probably never get a confirmation as to who Ezekiels’ birth parents were, and as such, you can’t prove me wrong! That being said, if I got any facts incorrect in this, please tell me so I can fix it. I’m not well versed on Greek Mythology, in fact I know basically nothing, and did the research as I went along. So again, there could be more. This is just what I found in like, less than a day of searching.

Join me next time on “How is Cassandra magical, where’d she get it from? Also, were we ever gonna meet her parents?” And “In the first episode of season 3, Jacob is just able to hit a heavy punching bag of its chain, across the room, at bullet speed, just because of a shift of his wrist, and later in that episode do the same thing to Apep, and it’s just…never addressed or spoken about again? Like wtf man?”

I'm probably not doing that

If you managed to get through all of this, thank you, and I hope this wasn’t too painful to read.

[uwua3]

your name (pt.1)

❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi

part 1 — part 2 — part 3

summary: being an adult is tiring, tsumugi knows that all too well.

warnings: class divide (struggling financially), food

author’s note: this is the first ever series i’m doing! please anticipate the next installment of the “your name” series tomorrow :D i’m so excited to share this since part 01 is my first ever wip for a3 ever 🤍 please enjoy!

word count: 2,932

music: kimi no na wa soundtrack – radwimps

Running with reckless abandon, a boy trips amidst the bustling public traffic in the station, books flying out of his arms from the sheer force of his turn. Passer-bys barely spared a glance at the panicked tutor as he bent down to gather his academic papers, all imprinted by strangers’ shoes. In a moment of lifelong embarrassment, the world continued to spin as nothing rippled the fabric of time.

Murmurs spread across the crowd, daily small talk between people who would never see each other again on the complex train system. Students shared personal gossip too loud for their own good as their prestigious private academy skirts flew past him. Businessmen burdened themselves with client phone calls as they were all weighed down by the same leather briefcase. Employees wore their customer service mask, smiling politely before dropping their act immediately afterwards when they thought no one was looking. As expected, there was no time in the schedule to stop and help a recent university graduate out of his clumsy peril. Everyone was too distracted by their own problems to consider breaking their routine.

Perceptive by nature, Tsukioka Tsumugi didn’t need to glance at his watch to know he was late to his study session. The automated female voice sounded dull over the speakers, announcing his designated train was to depart in five minutes in a monotone attitude. Tokyo was a busy city with no mercy for those who didn’t plan every second of their future. That much was understandable by the aspiring teacher who quickly pulled out his outdated flip phone as he carefully eyed the assignments back in his possession.

A single tone rang before a drawl was heard in poor quality, with a shit–eating grin Tsumugi knew all too well.

“Tsumu, did you finally realize I don’t need your tutoring?” Settsu Banri mocked, the distinct background noises of his new video game obsession making Tsumugi speed walk even faster. With his books held tight against his chest, he sighed and almost pinched the bridge of his nose before realizing none of his hands were free. Placing the phone in between his shoulder and ear, Tsumugi rolled his eyes as he attempted to organize his mess.

“Banri-kun, please refer to me as Tsukioka-san. I am your senior by years, if I may remind you.” Tsumugi reprimanded, noting Banri’s agitated groan and muttered under his breath about the age difference between them. Unlike the other students Tsumugi tutored, Banri was defiant. Over–the–top, lazy, and arrogant—but deadly smart. Ever since Tsumugi carefully took off his shoes in the Settsus’ overpriced apartment, Banri took it upon himself to make his life a living hell by refusing to do the work but getting every question right. The only thing Banri cooperated with was talking about video games, which distracted him from his innate ability to be the best at everything. So on Friday afternoons, Tsumugi would visit to recap the weekly curriculum and try his best to stay patient with Banri’s snappy attitude.

“Why’d you call anyways? You’re late, by the way.” Banri pointed out right before Tsumugi fell through the two closing doors on the train, tumbling into a displeased but silent group as he gripped the overhead. Spectators only stared for a second before turning away as Tsumugi blushed under the attention, stammering back a half–assed apology of how he was going to be twenty minutes late for their session.

“Hold on, am I talking to the right person? Tsukioka Tsumugi, late? Real funny, just tell me you quit or something.” Banri feigned a bothered persona, but it was nice to pretend he was actually worried over the possibility of not seeing Tsumugi. Apologizing quickly to a corporate worker he bumped into, Tsumugi fixed the bag slung too low on his right shoulder as he took the phone back in his hand. At the same time, the zipper on his decade old bag gave out as it took his foot’s entire strength to keep the folders in place. Great, another thing to replace.

Staring outside the window, the school year was coming to a close as the heat of incoming summer air made him grip the phone in case of vicious sweat. “Banri–kun, you know I value our study sessions together.” He didn’t respond, just a resigned hmph before hanging up as Banri started swearing into his gaming headset. Tsumugi closed his eyes, getting his minutes of shut-eye for the first time in days as the sun glowed. Time didn’t stop for anyone, especially not Tsukioka Tsumugi.

After being greeted way too properly by the Settsu chain of servants, Tsumugi could hear the exaggerated game sound effects throughout the rather empty mansion. Walking carefully into Banri’s wide open door, Tsumugi grimaced at the sight of the energy drink cans crushed and thrown haphazardly near the trash can. Junk food wrappers were kicked underneath the expensive furniture as Banri was focused on his two–screen gaming setup. The rainbow LED keyboard was smashed expertly by Banri’s quick fingers all without looking down, getting him a #1 win as he boredly stared at the victory. As expected of NEO-san, a top league player. Or so Tsumugi’s heard by his other student, Taichi, who dramatically cries every time he loses against Banri.

“Banri-kun, please excuse my interruption.” Tsumugi announced, holding up the textbooks he had carried with a strained smile. Banri didn’t even look over as he logged off, saying something about GG to his teammate by the name of “Taruchi” before pushing the cat headset down around his neck. Spinning around in his black gamer chair, Banri raised one eyebrow at Tsumugi’s disheveled appearance panting slightly in the doorway. It was unlike his composed, proper tutor to be... like every young adult out there? Tsumugi didn’t seem like he had all the wisdom and knowledge in the world, he looked more... confused than anything.

“Geez, Tsumu. Didn’t think you’d sleep in, watched the meteor strike last night?” Banri smirked, rolling his chair across the room to his school desk as he put his legs up, stretching his arms beneath his head lazily. How he hadn't changed out of his white t-shirt and sweatpants was beyond Tsumugi as he sat in his normal chair silently, unlike the loud high schooler who glanced at the folder of work with a yawn. Grabbing some trendy bucket hat, Banri shoved the brim over his eyes as he took a break from the flashing neon blue light from his monitor.

“Meteor strike?” Tsumugi questioned innocently, attempting to hold conversation as Banri hummed a game soundtrack absentmindedly. Nodding, Banri pulled up his modern phone that made Tsumugi wince thinking of the price of that thing. Shoving the screen in front of Tsumugi’s wary red eyes, he blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright overpowering pixels. Tsumugi noticed an event marked that raved about the phenomenal light show the day before. Thinking back on the train incident this morning, Tsumugi remembered the excitement buzzing through the students a week prior as they whispered about a new chance to wear their best yukatas to celebrate. It had been so long since he was in school, that he completely forgot about all the childish euphoria that came with change.

“I must’ve slept through it. I didn’t notice at all.” Tsumugi admitted, tilting his head as he tried to remember the news every morning the past week. He couldn’t remember a single story of the astronomical event, although every day felt the same as usual. It was peculiar; Tsumugi was awake all night, too. He couldn’t sleep without his medication... maybe he should have looked up for once.

Taking his phone back to check the game notification popping up on screen, Banri chuckled as he shoved a stick of chocolate pocky in his mouth. “Mhmm, said it was a historical event n’ all. Supposed to be life-changing.” Banri offered bare minimum detail on anything and everything, but it was enough for Tsumugi to have a slight understanding as he set up the workspace. Banri noticed the distant look in Tsumugi’s eyes, the tiredness stifled underneath the graceful mannerisms as it looked like he was going through the motions. Attempting to lighten the mood, Banri’s voice came off meaner than he intended. “Aren’t you like? 25? How come you don’t know this stuff, you’re no boomer.”

Tsumugi frowned, glancing at Banri who looked away immediately with a flustered expression. Leave it to Banri to overthink whether or not he overstepped a boundary but refuse to acknowledge it. Tsumugi kept the meme going, sarcastically deadpanning, “Haha” before tossing a new eraser at Banri’s mushroom hair. Banri caught the gift in one hand easily as he slowly turned it over, turning his body to fully face his tutor. His feet dropped to the floor with a bang, startling Tsumugi to straighten his posture and stare directly into Banri’s curious face that had a glint of... concern?

“What’s all this? A gift to make me like you or something?” Banri jokes, nudging Tsumugi’s foot with his own. Tsumugi couldn’t help but notice the tight death grip Banri had on the small, game controller shaped eraser he had found at his full time work as a florist. Across the street was a one dollar convenience store, where teenage workers stood at the register on their phones as Tsumugi checked out the stationary. Wearing his dirt–stained apron, he remembered coming across miniature, adorable erasers that made him think of his students. Especially the red and blue Nintendo Switch joy con erasers that made Tsumugi think of Banri’s whole rant about the superiority of Fire Emblem: Three Houses’ Black Eagles for the potential wife girls. Sure, it was a hit on his already fragile bank account, but it was worth it to see Banri genuinely happy about something for once.

“You already do, I’m the longest tutor you’ve had.” Tsumugi didn’t need the thanks, because it was clear in the way Banri for once put something down without throwing it. Banri scoffed, mumbling a weak comeback as he flipped open his notebook. He even tossed his hat off his head, revealing the messy long hair tucked behind his ears. Oh, he did his homework for once, Tsumugi mused with satisfaction before trying to flip to the appropriate page in the school’s textbook. It was open to a section on meteors, and glossy colored pictures of the sky made Tsumugi’s eyes focus. The image seemed familiar. Perhaps he stared a moment too long, because Banri took the book himself and thumbed his way to the marked section, warily sparing a careful glance.

“Hey... you good? You don’t look... normal.” Banri roughly phrased, trying his best to emote like a normal human would. Tsumugi nodded, not convincing anyone he was off. Brushing his sweaty palms upon his jeans, Tsumugi pushed his hair back as he started reciting what he knew of the topic and reviewed the homework, failing to catch Banri’s attentive stare at Tsumugi’s cheap, hole-ridden pants and bag bursting at the seams.

Tsumugi went back on the same train. The people were the same, his schedule was the same. Banri was different today though, paid more attention today despite knowing it already. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with, probably some tournament tonight.

In the face of the orange sunset above the skyscrapers, Tsumugi walked home with a slow, natural pace that fit his time slot he allocated for transportation. The mental reminder allowed him to look up for once, seeing the birds fly together around the quieter part of the city as a golden haze reflected off the glass. Community members said their usual predictable greetings as he waved back, respectfully wishing good health to his elders and telling funny jokes to the youth playing sports. Yet, it didn’t bring him the fulfillment he got before when he was young. Being an adult, was tiring.

It was the same everyday, as Tsumugi left the residential area and climbed through the back alley to a slum part of town. Lights flickered as abandoned businesses creaked amidst the silence. He escaped the prying eyes of neighbors and unlocked the door to his dingy, unsafe apartment. Closing the door quietly, Tsumugi stared at the studio as silence overtook his surroundings. Dust floated in the golden hour as everything was where he exactly left it.

“Welcome home.” Tsumugi whispered, his own voice echoing in between his four walls. Alone, again. It was the same everyday.

Heating up the instant ramen expired in his cupboard, the microwave sparked every once in a while as Tsumugi leaned against the counter. Each surface he touched creaked with uncertainty, as if it didn’t know how long it could last. His one–room housing felt cramped despite the lack of furniture around Tsumugi. His run–down appliances, aged decor, and rising rent made the location even better as Tsumugi did the usual routine of eating half the calories he needed and staying up browsing job listings. This time, the ramen wasn’t as satisfying as the pastry Banri stuffed in his hand before he left.

“What’s this?” Tsumugi remembered asking, immediately feeling sick to his stomach once he saw Banri’s serious expression stare back at him. At the moment, it felt like Banri was his teacher. The sweet, strawberry mochi wrapped in plastic felt warm in his palm as Banri stood at the door of his own home, leading Tsumugi out with a gift.

“Mochi. You’re Japanese, dipshit. Just a thanks, I guess.” Banri bullshitted, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Tsumugi noticed they began to fidget a little bit as Banri tapped his foot against the welcome mat. “School punk named Juza bakes or whatever, has a family business so thought you might like it. Or whatever.” Banri elaborated, using one hand to tug at the already loose v–neck collar of his week old t–shirt. Was that a blush Tsumugi saw on his rather indifferent student? No matter, it wasn’t his business to ask about a troublemaker turned pastry chef.

He’d make sure to thank his student next time he tutored him, which would be (Tsumugi checked the wall calendar disappointedly) next week. Banri was a good kid, even if he had his teenage angsty rebellion phase for a while now. Privileged kids liked doing that, pretending the whole world was against them despite having everything, Tsumugi thought bitterly. Even he was slightly surprised and caught off guard by his own pessimism, before the microwave beeped, signaling its task was done.

When Tsumugi tried to pull open the door, the handle snapped off and a quiet sigh escaped Tsumugi’s lips. Guess no dinner for tonight, then. Tsumugi didn’t have enough fight in him to care, so he dropped the handle onto the counter with a clatter. Inside this studio room, there was nothing for Tsumugi here. Not even his own food.

So, Tsumugi sat down on the couch that groaned beneath his weight. Except, it wasn’t his own body that made his sofa creak—it was the stack of papers needing to be graded in his arms. With a red pen tucked behind his ear, Tsumugi began marking his students’ work. A minute passed before Tsumugi quickly turned the television on, letting the sound of the news distract him from the unbearable loneliness.

Sure, it was going to increase his bills but... the money would be worth it to make his thoughts quiet for a moment. Tsumugi had a job to do, and he wouldn’t let his mindset get in the way. Being an adult was something else, indeed.

When had he fallen asleep?

Tsumugi blinked slowly, finding that his cheek was resting against a substantially smaller stack. Another pile that was distinctly red ink was on the other cushion, the pen without its cap rolled across the carpet. Tsumugi subconsciously winced when he realized the T.V. was on, the same channel on in the background.

Lifting his head, Tsumugi tried to comprehend the visual of the screen through his blurry vision. Tsumugi’s glasses must’ve dropped somewhere; he hoped he didn’t step on them. From what he could hear, the duo of news anchors were animatedly discussing some supernatural phenomenon tonight. Tsumugi rubbed his eyes, leaning closer to the small box screen ahead.

There was no way he possibly heard that correctly. Yet, there it was on the T.V.: “Historical Meteor Shower Tonight!” in big bold letters at the bottom. Tsumugi could remember Banri talking about something like this, but it had occurred last night. Was there another one? How common was it for two meteor showers within a span of mere hours? Sitting up, Tsumugi watched the pair talk about the light show.

“This is said to be the first event of its kind in Japan!” The host exclaimed, the screen switching to a picture of the meteors. A sense of familiarity struck Tsumugi once more, the same feeling when he had seen Banri’s textbook earlier that day. “It’s said to be life–changing—” The other one replied, Tsumugi’s wide eyes focused on every single passing word and image. Could deja vu possibly last this long?

As Tsumugi fumbled for his phone, he made his way out onto his balcony. Something inside him was telling him to get some air as Tsumugi dialed Banri’s number. Before Tsumugi could confirm the call, a bright light appeared out of the corner of his eye.

Tsumugi looked up to see two bright meteors splitting from one another. At the sight, Tsumugi’s phone landed upon the balcony floor.

[atamascolily]

Unicorn Chronicles, Book 3: “Dark Whispers,” by Bruce Coville

Whenever people grumble about how long it's been since their favorite fanfic updated, I can't help but smile a little in sympathy. As someone who's read a lot of CLAMP manga, I've grown used to the stutter-stop of hiatuses and discontinued stories that will never be finished. To quote the Princess Bride, "Get used to disappointment". It's just an occupational hazard.

I know people who only read completed stories, but I would have missed out on a lot of great material and works that really matter to me if I followed their example. It also meant that I got really good at imagining what happens next.

So it was a delight to discover that Bruce Coville had actually finished the Unicorn Chronicles when I was busy with other stuff (i.e., life) and there were two more volumes. Coville specifically thanks readers for nagging him about finishing, which is simultaneously #hilarious and #relatable.

Song of the Wanderer came out in 1999, right on the cusp of the Harry Potter boom that shook up the juvenile fantasy genre. (Both series are published by Scholastic.) Dark Whispers came out in 2008, and you can see how much the genre has shifted in the cover art alone:

This is gorgeous art by Petar Mesedlzija, but it only tangentially fits the descriptions in the books: Cara doesn't really wear anything like this outfit, and the story emphasizes she keeps braiding her hair to keep it from tangling. She has a sword, but she doesn’t really ever use it?

Furthermore, the layout, design, and chapter headings of Dark Whispers are clearly meant to capitalize on Harry Potter: Grimmwold has a looping signature reminiscent of Dumbeldore's in the opening prologue, for instance. It's a very different feel from the way the first two volumes were presented, and tbh, I miss the old way that has gone the way of the dinosaurs now.

Inevitably, with such a long gap between volumes, Dark Whispers ended up with a very different style and tone than its predecessors. The most obvious difference is that it's REALLY LONG--464 pages in hardcover. Some of this increase in length is attributable to Harry Potter proving that giant fantasy tomes can sell like hotcakes, and some of it is the fact that the storyline is now really big, with a lot of different players moving in different directions.

Inevitably, this means that instead of following Cara's POV for the entire book, as we did in the first two volumes, we are constantly shifting narrators. It's completely understandable, but as a reader, I find it really annoying--like I am suddenly reading an entirely different series with overlapping plot and characters. It's not that this new series is bad, per se, it's just... not what I imagined when I was making up the ending in my head in the early 2000s. I do not know if this disjunct would be so obvious or unsettling to someone who was reading all four volumes together for the first time.

Anyway, so since it's been literally a decade, Coville makes the sensible decision to open with a recap from Grimmwold, in his role as the keeper of the Unicorn Chronicles: unicorns and human hunters are at war; the latter are lead by an immortal woman named Beloved with a personal grudge against the unicorns, and she just got an amulet so she can invade Luster.

In Cara's plotline, she is still coming to terms with the fact that her grandmother, Ivy Morris, was a unicorn in disguise, and is now Queen Amalia Flickerfoot. Her grandfather Jaques is super depressed (because literary references, yo) and also because this is super-weird for him, too. As they prepare for Beloved's assault on Luster, Grimmwold reveals that pages from the Unicorn Chronicles are missing, and that others reveal an unsettling prophecy about unicorns confronting their own darkness and a mysterious figure called the Whisperer.

Another human, Alma Leonetti, comes forth and suggests that the centaurs might know more details. The Queen sends Cara and her friends to investigate, while Jaques and Thomas the Tinker go on separate missions. Thomas does give her a watch that marks the days and also explodes, so you know right away she's gonna need both on her trip. M'Gama the geomancer is trying to determine where and when the Hunters will invade: the date is the forthcoming Blood Moon, but she's still working out the details on the place.  

Grimmwold tells the group a story about Alma Leonetti, and how she tracked down the wizard Bellenmore, who opened the gate to Luster for the unicorns. Bellenmore has a snarky talking lizard and great tastes in decorating:

On the mantel above the fireplace stood a row of earthenware mugs with hideous faces. One of them winked at me; another leered and rolled its eyes; a third stuck out its tongue and made a rude noise. Then they began to sing a bawdy song until Bellenmore waved a hand to silence them.

Alma bluffs her way to Luster and eventually persuades the unicorns to keep one of their kind on Earth so humans don't forget true beauty and goodness and the spark is kept alive. The hunters keep trying to kill the Guardian, but they always replace the fallen with a new one and the cycle repeats.

We also learn that Ivy summoned Moonheart to heal Cara as a child, which is what alerted Beloved to her presence, forcing her to kidnap Cara and flee because Beloved wanted the child, too. Ian Hunter was a first grade teacher who had no idea about any of this until Cara disappeared and he was radicalized by Beloved and went through an intensive training camp she's built up for her army.

Meanwhile, Ian is in India, tracking down the Rainbow Prison where Beloved has imprisoned his wife. He makes a deal with a mysterious entity, the Blind Man, trading occasional use of his sight for the knowledge he needs. Beloved's men attack Ian, but he is saved by a street urchin named Rajiv who is eager for adventure, and the mysterious Fallon, who is trying to find a doorway to Luster. The three of them team up and head for the Himalayas to find the doorway to the Rainbow Prison while Beloved's forces pursue them. We learn that Fallon is super-hot and also seeking his best bro Elihu, in a relationship that I'm pretty sure was sexual although it's never stated directly.

There's also a plotline involving the delvers - the evil dwarves we mostly forgot about in Book 2. The King keeps talking to the Whisperer, and sending his subjects to do Evil Things as the alliance with Beloved continues. (The delvers do not love humans, but they hate unicorns and so the "enemy of my enemy is my friend" at least temporarily).

The plotlines converge when the delvers attack M'Gama the earthmancer's house and steal a macguffin and kill Flensa, M'Gama's servant. Cara's party splits up, with Finder and Belle hunting the macguffin while Cara and Lightfoot continue on. Finder is killed (sob) and Belle regrets being a jerk to him. Cara's group is attacked by delvers and she is captured and taken underground. (The delvers either don't know Beloved has an amulet already/don't care/want one for their own purposes.) Cara tosses the amulet into an abyss when it fails to transport her to earth, and she is imprisoned in the dungeons with a delver dissident who has had his name ritually stripped from him for defiance.

Cara renames the delver "Rocky" and the Squijum shows up with the amulet and steals the key. They meet up with Grimmwold, and escape. They also encounter the gryphon Medafil, who is lost below ground, only to wake a monster known as the schwartz, a Terminator-like blind dragon that never gives up pursuit. Cara defeats it using the expanding light sphere from Medafil's nest, and they emerge in the centaur's valley, where Belle is waiting for them with the news of Finder's death.

The centaurs are standoffish, but eventually Cara persuades their leader Chiron to spill the beans: after the war with Beloved began, the unicorns decided to expunge all the darkness from their souls with the aid of a magician named Elihu (hi!), which gained sentience and has been egging Beloved on ever since. It's also corrupted the delvers,which is why they hate unicorns so much. In exchange for the info, Cara agrees to mercy-kill Chiron, which none of the centaurs can do for personal reasons. Cara reports this story to the unicorns, who are all :shrug emoji: about it.  

Meanwhile Ian and company are stuck in the Rainbow Prison, the Dimblethum is being tormented by the Whisperer, and ends up taking the macguffin the delvers stole and placing it at the Axis Mundi, the world-tree of Luster, so that Beloved and her forces can enter there. Lightfoot tries to stop the Dimblethum but isn't in time. And the book ends on the seriously metal note of Beloved opening the portal beneath the blood moon and invading Luster with her army. *cue 'Bad Moon Rising'*

[Which, I may note, is pretty much where the LAST BOOK also ended.]

SO. That was a lot.

Once again, the core group of characters from Book One gets broken up. Thomas the Tinker gets sidetracked pretty quickly and isn't seen again; the Dimblethum gets a few brief sequences, but doesn't do much until the end. Lightfoot and Cara are separated fairly early on and don't have much time together, though their musings about their sudden familial connections at the beginning are nice, even though Cara also keeps shipping Belle with Lightfoot. Lightfoot himself doesn't get to do much, Finder dies, and Belle is likewise sidelined by the narrative for a decent chunk of the story. Coville also keeps emphasizing that Lightfoot is a Prince, which just grates on me, too.

I would also like to see more of Cara? She has plenty of scenes, but after two books of focusing solely on her, it's so strange to suddenly be jerked in different directions and it makes me grumpy.

It's great to see Medafil again, but I found the whole delvers/underground plot to drag on too long for my tastes. I'm glad Coville brings back that one delver from the first book who let Cara go because he thinks (rightly) his king is batshit crazy.

I like Alma Leonetti's story, but it feels unrelated to the plot, so I'm not entirely sure why it's there. I think it was originally a stand-alone short story, and I think it's better suited as one, because I can't figure out what its narrative purpose is. Or is it just that Grimmwold is contractually obligated to tell at least one story per book?? Or maybe this is something that will pay off in Book 4.

Ian Hunter's story basically bores me, and I found that whole subplot extremely tedious. He's been more or less retconned to be sympathetic and a victim, and I just don't know how I feel about that.

I HAVE SUCH MIXED FEELINGS ABOUT THE BIG REVEAL. On the one hand, it's a great twist to see the psychological shadow as the literal villain; on the other hand, it takes away some of the delvers' and Beloved's agency as villains in their own right because they're now Pawns of a Bigger Bad. It also just seems like such a weird thing for the unicorns to do--and maybe that's a way of making them more alien, but I don't know.

Coville explicitly uses the word 'hubris,' so it also feels weirdly victim-blaming to me because the unicorns are doing it to themselves (and this isn't just a war, but genocide we're talking about here!). For better or worse, this twist muddies the black and white/good vs. evil paradigm into shades of gray: the unicorns are beautiful and good but also arrogant assholes; Beloved is homicidal but also in terrible pain; the delvers are misunderstood and need to be embraced rather than ignored.

Alma Leonetti consistently delivers the best lines - I guess she's taken over the role Ivy Morris used to play, since Ivy is now a unicorn:

"Perhaps the unicorns need to try to recover some of what they have lost?... You face a dedicated enemy who has shown no mercy, one who will stop at nothing to destroy you. And what have you done? Gathered together, which is good. Prepared to defend yourselves, which is good, too. But is it enough? How fiercely are you willing to fight to save your lives? How strong can unicorns be? ... Maybe you need to take in some of that darkness you once released."

I remember feeling oddly disappointed on my first reading, which unfortunately persists on re-read. This story has now moved in a very different direction from the one I expected, and while that's not necessarily bad, it is unsettling and strange. As I mentioned earlier, some of that might just be that the final result doesn't match the story I made up in my head; or it could just be the inevitable result of such a long gap between books and the changes in the fantasy market post-Harry Potter. I don't know.

(I wish I had written down my thoughts about an ending--aka fanfic--because while I could write one now, it’d be reacting to canon, rather than creating it.)

Either way, major kudos to Coville for writing this book, because I had assumed the series was dead and would never be completed, and he fucking did it. That’s such an inspiration, honestly.

[anneesfollesrpg]

                      「AND MANY HAPPY RETURNS!」

It’s been almost a year - and what a year - since we first opened our doors and inbox. By popular demand, we’re back again! And it’s all thanks to you, our lovely members! Merci, merci beaucoup for sharing your words and wonder with us; you created a group that was truly worthy of being missed. And so, without further adieu, we return to the starry streets of Paris! Welcome, darlings, welcome again.

For the time being, Années Folles will be a closed, character-driven group.  New players will only be joining us by invitation. Established players are free to take up any and all muses they previously played without re-applying. If you intend to drop or in any way substantially adjust your old muses, please send the news along to the main so that we can update our records for everyone’s reference. It’s no trouble! As ever, we want to support a space where you’re all able to grow, experiment, and enjoy your writing. If you wish, you may also apply for new characters from among our skeletons, or make an original suggestion! 

The main will be lightly helmed, as admin availability allows. No activity checks will take place. Our goal is simply to provide a comfortable creative lounge of sorts, where we’re all able to write as suits our schedule. While we will continue to provide the occasional challenge and the odd event prompt, any grander designs when it comes to plot development will be left to the talented hands of our members. Our OOC Discord will, likewise, be maintained for player use. Beyond that, Années Folles is what we make of it, darlings. We look forward to seeing you around the dash once more, shining and bright in the City of Lights!

Sincerely yours, avec nos meilleures salutations… Admins Amy & Gray

[jomiddlemarch]

Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense

“I’m worried about Matthew,” Mary said, having set down the coffee-pot, every Wedgewood cup filled. The meal might have ended with port or brandy for the men in a household aspiring to be fashionable, but to Jed’s eternal amusement, Mary held fast to her New Hampshirewoman’s disapproval of anything she thought was more for show than purpose and though she was not deeply involved with the temperance movement, she saw limited appeal in spirits, which unlike coffee or even tea, never enlivened the enervated nor hastened industry. Jed spent a good deal of his time trying to impress upon her the value of leisure, but admitted it was a Sisyphean task. She applied her considerable efforts, fussing he called it, to the well-being of those she called friends, so he could not be surprised at her declaration.

“I’m sure you needn’t,” Emma said. This only caused Mary to purse her lips in a manner Jed found adorably kissable, but which indicated she felt Emma was not taking seriously what she deemed a serious matter indeed.

“Why are you worried?” Henry asked. “He’s not written often since he went to New York. At least not to me. Perhaps you’ve heard more from him?”

“If she hasn’t, it’s not for lack of trying,” Jed remarked. “At this rate, we may send Daniel out West to earn his Harvard tuition as his mother’s spent it on postage—”

“It won’t work, Jed, Emma and Henry already know you for a fabulist. You ought to confine your exaggeration to your waistcoats,” Mary replied, sounding very much as she had when they’d first met in Alexandria, all asperity and wit. She turned to face Henry, whose earnestness still matched her own. “It’s not so much what he says as what he omits and there are times I almost feel he’s written me a sermon instead of a letter to a friend.”

“I thought it would be easy enough for him, in New York. They’re not known for their propriety as Boston is,” Emma said. She had found it more difficult than she expected to gain acceptance, even as Mrs. Reverend Hopkins, her soft drawl a lesser issue than the myriad small faux pas she made, which she discovered only through a raised eyebrow or a short, barely audible sniff. When Mary’s efforts at consolation had proven ineffective, she’d brought Emma to Margaret Brook and then to the Bhaers’ exercise in utopia. She’d left with a hand-printed program of “The Pirate’s Fearsome Revenge and Also, His Parrot Makes a Freind” as a talisman against disappointment. “No Lowells, no Cabots, it might as well be a children’s garden party at Plumfield.”

“Evidently the von Rhijns and the Astors would make the Cabots and Lowells quail,” Mary said. “There’s a brazenness in New York society that’s frowned upon in Boston and Matthew mentioned that some of the newer families, the Russells in particular, are rather given to excess, even though that is reflected in their charitable giving as well as their millinery.”

“You are concerned Matthew will be caught up in the battles between old and new money?” Henry asked. “That he may be diverted from his ministry and his neediest parishioners?”

“The man survived five holiday bazaars, including the one the former Miss Hastings attended,” Jed said. “Have some faith—”

“He was at home then,” Mary said. “He knew the players and he knew who he might call upon as allies, should he need them.”

“You make it all sound quite cut-throat,” Jed said. “Not that I don’t think Anne brought a Bowie knife to that sewing bee you hosted. I expect she spiked the punch from her trusty flask as well.”

“No one serves punch at a sewing bee,” Emma said.

“I’m afraid Matthew’s affections are becoming improperly engaged,” Mary interrupted. Henry frowned but Jed let out a low whistle, one his sons had all learned to replicate. He was teaching the girls in secret.

“Improperly engaged! Given the source of such an assessment, I can only assume our esteemed Reverend Forte is enamored of a circus performer or perhaps his inamorata is a lady aeronaut,” Jed said, making little effort to restrain himself. He was, after all, among friends.

“Do be serious,” Emma said, an exhortation Mary knew better than to ever bother with. Henry, uxuoriousness undimmed by nearly twenty years of marriage, patted his wife’s hand. Mary rolled her eyes, but Jed could tell she was equally amused by his playfulness and Emma’s exasperation. There was little latitude granted to a minister’s wife in Massachusetts and Emma’s thirsts for gossip and the latest fashion were generally unquenched. 

“Not a widow of means, then?” Henry said.

“He writes almost effusively about a Miss Brook and no, Jedediah, there is little chance she’s any relation to Mrs. John Brook, the surname is common enough,” Mary said.

“What makes an engagement an improper one then, Molly?” Jed asked.

“As her title suggests, she is unmarried, but not fresh from the schoolroom. She is a lady of some years—”

“An elderly spinster,” Jed remarked. “Probably poor as a church mouse, though I’d defer to Henry to explain why all the mice who make churches their residence are doomed to being impoverished. Not much opportunity for cheese, I suppose—"

“Hush!” Mary exclaimed. “She is of middle years and unmarried but what makes the engagement risky—”

“Not risqué,” Jed muttered under his breath, low enough Henry could claim he hadn’t heard but loud enough he’d grinned.

“Is her connection to the van Rhijn family,” Mary went on.

“Is she a second cousin? A cadet branch? A companion?” Emma asked, speaking the word companion as she might say harlot.

“She is Mrs. van Rhijn’s only sister,” Mary said. “He was invited to luncheon at the van Rhijn house. They had New England clam chowder. Miss Brook admitted amidst the guests that she’d had it specially prepared to remind him of home.”

Emma looked aghast.

Henry looked as surprised as he had when his eldest daughter Lydia had announced her intention of studying Ancient Greek at Wellesley College the day after the school’s charter was announced. She had been five at the time and was already halfway through Cicero.

Mary looked concerned and also divinely self-satisfied, largely due to the expressions on the faces of both Hopkins and the near-absolute silence that had descended on the sitting room. Jed could only barely make out the sound of the boys arguing, Rebecca wheedling cakes from Mrs. Hudson for Beatrice and the Hopkins girls. They were dear to him, these three, and though he could not share in the apprehension over Matthew Forte’s affections and reputation, he was fond of the minister in his own way.

“As it’s evident the three of you believe Reverend Forte shortly to be torn limb from limb, either figuratively or literally, with the likelihood of a new iteration of New England chowder featuring a man of God, his frock coat, and quantity of diced potatoes doused in cream soon to be presented at the van Rhijn table, I would suggest a course of action,” Jed said, allowing himself to wax, if not rhapsodic, then comedically melodramatic. Mary might take him to task later, but they were all so earnest and Emma, in particular, needed to be reminded there was life outside the parlor and parish hall, life she had once lived, most threatening with her swinging hoopskirt. It was always fraught, to refer to the War, each of them carrying their own burdens, each of them managing in the best way they knew how, but they had once attended or performed in the dramas of the Mansion House Players and given the clear desire to make a tragedy out of a few lines in Matthew’s letter, their previous experience would be well to be evoked.

“Well, out with it,” Mary said. “You’re overdoing the dramatic pause, Jedediah. If Timothy and John were with us, you wouldn’t escape so lightly—”

He nodded. The two younger boys had his same taste for mockery and were only slightly reined in by Daniel’s steadiness, so like his mother’s, and Bea’s innocence. Rebecca would only egg them on. Mary could quell them all with a glance but only if she chose. 

“Matthew needs an ally. Reinforcements. The introduction of an unexpected character from the wings, kitted out with a shield and sword. And flask,” Jed said. Henry and Emma still had blank expressions but a light came into Mary’s dark eyes as he spoke and he loved her for it. “Mrs. Frederick Morris—”

“Nurse Hastings?” 

“Anne?”

“I may quibble with your approach, but I must admit, this is a pretty solution. A surgeon’s intervention,” Mary said. “No one can deny Anne has the acuity and aim of a scalpel. She’s impervious to shame, while being well-aware of its impact on those around her. And she has the resources to allow her to make a splash in New York society, though her money’s old enough she will merit some respect. I shall write her in the morning.”

“And if she does not succeed?” Emma said.

“I suppose Dr. Foster may find it necessary to visit Mrs. Manson Mingott and make sure she has been taking her tonics as prescribed,” Mary said, smiling. “Or then, Newport is lovely in the summer and we’d be happy to have you and the girls come to stay for a few weeks, Emma. Henry, if you can’t get away, you needn’t fret. We shall have it all well in hand and Mrs. Brook and Mrs. Laurence will make sure you don’t expire while living as a bachelor.”

“I notice you don’t leave Henry to Jo Bhaer’s tender mercies,” Jed remarked.

“I shouldn’t think he’d survive the theatricals at Plumfield,” Mary said. “And she has quite a heavy hand with caraway, which I know makes Henry dyspeptic.”

“Shouldn’t we just send you to Matthew’s side? Within a week, you’d have wedding bells rung for the lovesick couple and Mrs. van Rhijn ringing them herself as well as all the receipts for Delmonico’s menu for Mrs. Hudson to improve upon,” Jed said. 

Henry nodded. 

Emma smiled.

“I’m far too busy here at the moment,” Mary said. “And Anne is likely in need of some diversion.”

“Heaven help Mrs. van Rhijn,” Jed said.

“I believe Matthew must be trying his best in that regard,” Henry said. 

“Unless she has already dispatched him for chowder,” Emma added, making them all laugh.

[tortoisesshells]

Fanfic Asks: 5, 9, 17

5. What’s a crackship you love?

I don’t have any crack ships, alas, but I mentioned this to two dear friends and one shot back a very detailed proposal for throwing James Norrington and Preston Garvey together, so check back with me in a week?

9. Fake dating or arranged marriage?

I’ve internalized too many period drama tropes: arranged marriage.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

does maybe totally altering the whole fourth act of Customs and Duties because of a point my dear @theonlyredcar made when I was ranting count?

There’s a Mercy Street Christmas fic I keep story-boarding but have written ... maybe three lines of? But it would be post S2, the whole gang’s there (some via massive handwave but self-indulgence is where it’s at) just in time for the Mansion House Players (and their new recruits, since it’s been a bloody season) to try to stage A Christmas Carol. Headaches ensue for all, as the Players recite suspiciously appropriate passages in the background of the main casts’ crises, large and small. Featuring: Squivers the unexpected Hero of the Union for [valorous conduct at somewhere I’ll figure it out], Samuel’s first semester in med school in summary & comparing notes with Jed (who’ll likely have some Well, when I was a lad and in Paris ...), anticipation of the Emancipation Proclamation going into effect and its shortcomings with Charlotte and Mary, probably Henry Hopkins unironically saying “I wear the chains I forged in life!”, and references to every holiday movie I can think of.

ask me about fic!

[vannahfanfics]

Courage

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

Characters: Tsunayoshi Sawada, Kyoko Sasagawa

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for Day 3 of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! RarePair Week, for the Prompt “Hilarious or Shocking Reveals”!

Tsunayoshi Sawada had shed tears many times in his young (and unfortunately harrowing) life. He honestly never dreamed he would be blinking away tears while staring admiringly at the rolled-up diploma in his hands. His quivering fingers bent the thin paper when they curled tightly around it. He sunk his front teeth into his bottom lip, but his mind was numb to the dull pain of the action. With a sudden squeal of delight, he crushed the paper in his fist and threw his hands in the air.

“I did it! I graduated high school!” he crowed triumphantly. He puffed out his chest and put his curled fists on his hips to close his eyes and inhale haughtily. “I am not No-Good Tsuna anymore!”

“Yes, you are.” Tsunayoshi deflated like a popped balloon to cast a sordid glare at his home tutor. Reborn had grown significantly in the last several years since the Arcoboleno curse had dissipated, now standing at Tsunayoshi’s waist. The man trapped in a child’s body still dressed way too sharp for his apparent age, donning a neat, pressed suit and his magic chameleon disguised as a hat. He sipped matter-of-factly at his coffee and smirked teasingly at Tsuna. “That paper in your hand doesn’t change the fact that you still have a long way to go- and it was my teachings that earned you that diploma, anyway.”

“Ahhh, Reborn, you’re just as ruthless as ever,” Tsunayoshi grumped and pouted at the diploma. I don’t care what Reborn says! This is an accomplishment, and I’m gonna treat it like one!

“Tsuna, Tsuna!” Takeshi called as he came trotting up, beaming as always, with his father watching with a pleased smile from a distance. “My old man says he’ll treat us to sushi tonight. Everyone is invited!”

“Awesome!”

“I want sushi! I want sushi!” Lambo sprang out from the bushes where he had been presumably playing in the dirt looking for worms, as evidenced by the smears of soil he left on Tsuna’s uniform pants as he pawed at them. Tsunayoshi recoiled with a whine, looking dejectedly at the streaks of brown disfiguring his pants. Lambo skipped over to Takeshi and began running circles around him, bleating about sushi. The afroed boy had undergone a similar growth spurt, only slightly shorter than Reborn, but he had not acquired much in the way of maturity. Takeshi laughed good-naturedly and patted Lambo on the head affectionately. Nothing ever dampens Yamamoto’s spirits, Tsunayoshi thought warmly.

“Hey, little brat, you’re so loud,” Hayato griped as he strolled up with his hands in his pockets, and his diploma tucked in a back one. Scowling, he pushed on the back of Lambo’s head with the sole of his shoe. Though it couldn’t have hurt much, Lambo still took great offense. The little boy plopped down on his behind and began to bawl, screaming about how mean Hayato was to him. “Shut up, you baby! I didn’t hurt you!”

“Gokudera! Stop tormenting my dear sweet Lambo!” Tsunayoshi narrowed his eyes at the familiar but very out-of-place voice. Haru came running into the schoolyard to scoop Lambo up and press him into her bosom. Lambo cooed and snuggled into her breasts, clearly with lascivious intent, but Haru nuzzled his fuzzy head endearingly.

“What are you even doing here?!” the bomb expert griped. She shot him a seditious pout and a stony glare.

“I came to see Tsuna graduate, of course! Our school just finished, so I rushed over here. And what do I find? Gokudera is as much a villain as always!”

“Oh, can it, stalker!”

“I am not a stalker! I am a lady in love!”

Tsunayoshi abandoned the duo to their quibbling and pushed himself onto his tip-toes, head craned back to scan the many craniums of the students mingling in the courtyard. He did not find who he was looking for, but close enough. He could hear Ryohei screaming about the usual nonsense from a mile away. Wherever Ryohei is, Kyoko must be! he thought and pushed into the crowd.

Tsunayoshi was still small compared to his peers, so squeezing through the many chattering students was a chore. He followed Ryohei’s crowing and howling laughter towards the center of the mass of people. With a grunt, he pushed through two very stocky football players before stumbling out into a circle of green grass. Tsking, he smoothed out the creases in his shirt and pants and fixed his fluffy bangs, then inhaled deeply and straightened his back. He fingered the box-shaped lump in his front pocket nervously, eyeing the beautiful young girl chatting amiably with her overzealous boxer brother.

All right, Tsuna! It’s now or never!

“Kill him! Kill the Vongola Tenth!”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Tsunayoshi screeched in anger and tore at his orangey-caramel hair in frustration. As machine-gun fire ripped across the yard, the new graduates erupted into confused screams and scattered like marbles. Thankfully, whoever was attacking only meant to entice the Vongola family into retaliating, so the fire harmlessly rained down into the grass and concrete. Ryohei shoved Kyoko behind him and threw up his fists, while Tsunayoshi begrudgingly trotted over to stand beside him.

“What cowards! Show your faces and fight like a man!” Ryohei yowled and shook his bandage-wrapped fists.

“Can they not?” Tsunayoshi replied with a groan. “Can they just go home?” The yard had thinned in a matter of seconds; all the crowd had spilled out into the streets and run for cover, leaving just the mafia family behind. Takeshi had drawn his katana and Hayato his bombs. Kyoya (who had been lounging around the school though he had graduated before them) was standing across the yard with his tonfa, frowning. Chrome, brandishing her trident, scampered up with Haru clinging to the hem of her shirt. Lambo was sitting in a puddle of his tears, and Reborn was nonchalantly sipping the last dregs of his coffee.

“Reborn! Do you have any idea who these thugs are?” The Vongola Tenth asked his tutor. Reborn pretended not to hear him. “You little-! Gaaaaaah, let’s just get this over with,” Tsunayoshi huffed and activated his Dying Will Flame, alighting his forehead with the orange glow and materializing his gloves on his hands. “Come out!”

“Yeah, so I can blow you all to Hell!” Hayato sneered. Dozens of armed men in black suits appeared on the rooftops, with a man in a mink overcoat at their head.

“My name is- Hey, what the fu-?” Tsunayoshi didn’t give the mafia leader a chance to introduce himself, instead opting to blast his way up to the roof and drop-kick him in the face. As their leader slid across the tiled roof with an imprint of Tsunayoshi’s shoe across his forehead, the underlings could only gawk at Tsunayoshi’s malice and prowess. Tsunayoshi, his expression blank, flexed his fingers.

“One day. Can’t I have one day without some goons crashing in and threatening my life and the lives of my friends? Seriously, did it have to be graduation day?” Tsunayoshi griped as he advanced on the man, who was now crawling away on his hands and knees blubbering. The men around Tsunayoshi howled angrily and trained their weapons on him, but before any of them could fire a single shot, his Guardians jumped into the fray. Within seconds, the attackers’ formation crumbled into chaos. Tsunayoshi ignored the mania to stride over to the leader.

“Have mercy!” the leader pleaded as he pressed back against the roof’s wall, shaking like a leaf and staring fearfully at Tsunayoshi. Using Leon in the form of a mini-helicopter, Reborn perched himself atop the fence and tutted at the poor excuse of a man.

“How shameful. Did you really think you could take on the Vongola Tenth with such a small force and such little resolve? This is an insult.”

Tsunayoshi smothered his Dying Will flame and pouted up at his tutor.

“Rebornnnnn, please don’t tell me this was some kind of training exercise or scheme…”

“Of course not. Even I am kind enough to allow you to enjoy your graduation day.”

“Y-you asshole! How dare you patronize me!” the mafia boss screamed and lunged at Tsunayoshi. A knife glinted in the sunlight, shooting towards Tsunayoshi’s throat, but his hyper-intuition made dodging it an easy task. The young Vongola Tenth side-stepped the attack, leaving the manic man stumbling across the roof. Takeshi dispatched him with a neck-chop to his pressure point, and he crumpled like a doll.

“That was no fun. I wanted a challenge,” the swordsman whined and sheathed his katana.

“I would rather not have to deal with stuff like this at all! One day! Just one! That’s all I want!” Tsunayoshi argued. Takeshi just laughed animatedly, like he always did, squinting his eyes happily. When he stopped, he glanced down at the ground with a confused grunt.

“Oh? Tsuna, what’s that?”

Tsunayoshi knew exactly was Takeshi was referring to and released a high-pitched screech, but before he could retrieve the precious object, Lambo scampered over and swiped it.

“No! Lambo! Give it back!” he wailed and chased the afroed, horned child across the roof. Lambo screamed elatedly, pleased with the chase, and opened the box as he ran in circles with Tsunayoshi in hot pursuit.

“A ring! It’s a ring!” Everyone froze, including the girls, who had just mounted the steps.

“Ahhhhhh! Tsuna is finally going to make Haru his mafia wife!” Haru trilled and clasped her hands beside her cheek. Clenching his teeth, Tsunayoshi shot her an incredulous look before lunging for Lambo, who had stopped running in his bewilderment of everyone’s reactions. He yelped as Tsunayoshi snatched the ring box and hid it behind his back.

“Lambo’s lying! It’s not a ring!”

“Uh, yeah it is, Sawada,” Kyoya blinked disinterestedly. Tsunayoshi growled at him, infuriated that he was no help to his cause; it was just par for the course, because since when did Kyoya care about anything but his naps and the middle school?

“Who’s it for? Who’s it for, Tsuna?” Ryohei grinned and bolted over to shake him. Tsunayoshi released startled gasps as his brain rattled in his skull along with all his other bones under the boxer’s relentless jarring.

“Gah! Ah! For the love of-! Kyoko! It’s for Kyoko!” he choked out. Ryohei ceased shaking him to gawk stupidly at him. Tsunayoshi went pink from the base of his neck to the top of his forehead. He shouldered away from his Sun Guardian, fidgeting with the box incessantly. Kyoko gawked wide-eyed at him from across the roof, mouth agape. Ugh! I had wanted to do this in private, but since when does anything in my life go as planned? he lamented. He cleared his throat before striding over to the girl, trying to seem dignified. It was a meaningless effort, because his knees buckled as soon as he reached her. “K-kyoko,” he stammered, then swallowed thickly, hating how quivery his voice was. He tried again, opening the box as he did so to reveal a silver band with a tiny pink opal in the center.

“K-Kyoko, this isn’t how I wanted this to go, but…. I’ve loved you for a long time. You were the motivation to get me through the hardest parts of my life. This is a promise ring,” he explained with a glance down at the jewelry. “M-my life is really dangerous now, with the mafia and all, and because of that, I’ve put your life in danger far too many times… B-but, with this ring, I promise to protect you, always, a-a-and love you w-with everything I h-h-have…” His voice grew high-pitched and trembly at the end, making his blush redden to a tomato color. With shaking lips and shaking hands, he extended the ring to her. “P-please be my girlfriend, Kyoko!”

“Nice delivery,” Hayato muttered sarcastically, which made him hunch his shoulders up to his ears. He heard Hayato yelp as his sister slapped him upside the head. Still, he kept his eyes firmly locked on Kyoko’s face, watching as she studied the ring curiously. His breath halted as she reached out with slim fingers to pull the ring from the box and admire it in the sunlight. The little pink opal sparkled beautifully, but not nearly as wonderfully as her eyes, Tsunayoshi thought. His heart somersaulted in his ribcage as she smiled broadly and slipped the ring onto her right ring finger.

“I accept.”

“Yes!” Tsunayoshi howled and threw his hands in the air triumphantly. “Kyoko said she’ll go out with me! This is the best day of my life!”

“Sawada!” Tsunayoshi cringed and hid behind Kyoko as Ryohei barked his name. He hunched down to peer above Kyoko’s tiny shoulder, watching fearfully as her elder brother stomped across the roof to cross his arms and glowered down at him.

“R-ryohei, I can explain…”

“No. I’ve heard enough,” he grunted with a stern expression. Tsunayoshi whined and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for one of the boxer’s devastating punches. Instead, he felt a hand ruffling his fluffy hair. He cracked an eye open to see Ryohei grinning and even crying a little. “This is so exciting! I know you will take care of my sweet little sister.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, big brother. You’re the one who needs taking care of, getting beat up all the time!”

“Heyyy, Kyoko, that was so mean…”

“So are Tsuna and Kyoko getting married?” Lambo asked Chrome while sucking on his index finger.

“No, no, they are just dating,” the illusionist responded. “I think…”

“Hey! This is just one more thing to celebrate over sushi!” Takeshi laughed good-naturedly.

“I’m leaving,” Kyoya snorted and whirled on his heel to begin striding for the stairs. He bristled when Takeshi clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him around.

“Come on, Hibari, don’t be such a stick in the mud! Surely you like sushi? My father makes the best.” Kyoya glowered before clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“Do you have tuna sashimi?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. But I’m going for the sashimi, not because we’re friends.”

“Sure, sure.”

Tsunayoshi watched fondly as his friends rejoiced on the rooftop, smiling alighting their faces like beacons as always. As Ryohei scampered over to throw his arms around a laughing Takeshi’s shoulders, Kyoko looked at him with a sweet smile, making Tsunayoshi’s heart stop in his chest.

“You’ll keep your promise, won’t you, Tsuna?” He blinked, then smiled lovingly at the girl he had adored for the longest time.

“Of course, Kyoko. I’ll protect you with my life. I swear it.” His eyes snapped wide open when she leaned in to press a small kiss to his cheek, leaving bright pink heat in her wake.

“Good- but don’t be in a hurry to throw your life away. I’d miss you so much, Tsuna.” Smiling charmingly, she skipped over to Haru and Chrome, wherein they cooed over the pretty pink-gemmed ring. Tsunayoshi slowly raised a hand to his cheek, a smile slowly spreading over his face.

“I’m proud of you, Tsuna,” Reborn remarked and patted the back of his thigh. “I never thought you’d do it, really.”  

“It’s all thanks to you, Reborn. You gave me courage.”

“No,” the mafioso retorted with a sly smirk. “You always had the courage. I just taught you how to find it.” Tsunayoshi nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. You sure did, Reborn.”

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @khrrarepairweek​, @deliathedork​

[myupostsheadcanons]

Books “Read” in 2020

Previous entries: 2019, 2018, 2017

I don’t rank these based on actual literary quality, but by how much i enjoyed reading/listening to them. Hopefully with Audible’s new “Premium Included” feature it would cut down on so many Average/Below Average books next year, it’ll give me more of a choice on what kind of books/podcasts i want to listen to rather than given a handful to pick from a month.

The “Top 10″

Forging Hephaestus / Bones of the Past: Villains' Code Series - Drew Hayes has became one of my fav authors over the past couple years, from his Vampire Accountant series, 5-min Sherlock, and his Spells, Swords, and Stealth books. FH is one of the few times he wrote Adult Fiction. This is the second time Drew created a world of super heroes (the YA Superpowereds), thus previous experience in dealing with the nuisances and meta of super meta dynamics. I love the main character, Tori, and especially love many of the side characters (like Ivan) and the comedy is the right tone of dark and not-in-your-face (not quite as well -written as something like The Venture Bros or The Tick, but being adult fiction you can get away with having characters named Johnny Three-Dicks and Captain Bullshit)

Dreadnought / Sovereign - the second super hero series I’ve placed on my top list this year, this one is Young Adult. This one is far more serious and deals heavily in issues like trans and women’s rights, mental abuse, and social acceptance. The main character is full of angst, but that should be a given for a 15 yo with lots of mental baggage and new social pressures. The main character is the main draw, most of the side characters are a bit more one-dimensional.

The Trouble with Peace: Age of Madness, Book 2. It isn’t a “First Law” book if you don’t want to strangle half of the main characters. Many are stepping outside of the shadow of the previous generation and finding themselves falling flat on their faces. If they aren’t at each other’s throats, they would soon have to deal with rebellion in the streets and the constant looming presence of Bayaz, who waits to sweep the board clear and rearrange the pieces the way he sees fit.

Michael J. Sullivan’s: The Riyria and Legend of the First Empire Books.

Riyria Revelations: Theft of Swords / Rise of Empire / Heir of Novron

Riyria Chronicles: The Crown Tower / The Rose and Thorn / The Death of Dulgath

Age of Death / Age of Empyre, Pile of Bones

After finishing the Legend of the First Empire books that came out earlier this year, I went ahead and read the prior series that takes place in the same world. I would suggest reading the entire series by Publish order, but they can be read Chronologically. I read the Legends books first, and it helped me see where Sullivan was heading and when he started to plan out the Legends books in more detail. (The early cameo of the Main characters from Legends in a mural in Heir of Novron, and knowing who is behind the events in Dulgath)

The Dresden Files: Peace Talks / Battle Grounds - They really should be read as one book, because that was how they were written. It is a Feast of Crows / Dances with Dragons situation, where the book got too long and got split up. The fans are pretty divided by the book(s) ending and how some of the main characters are handled, but these are Jim Butcher’s characters not theirs and he can drop bridges on whom ever he wants.

What Lies Beyond: Cycle of Galand, Book 6 - This is a “mythology” book (like Sullivan’s Age of Death was) where it introduces most of the Pantheon of their religion and corrects much of the mythology that had been lost over the decades. They seek a weapon to vanquish the Litch and save their world and the afterlife from oblivion, but not all of their Gods are happy about it.

Will Destroy the Galaxy for Cash - Yahtzee (Zero Punctuation!) has to be one of my favorite internet personalities for the past 10+ years, and I eat up every book he puts out and because he wrote the books, and is an actor himself, he could deliver the lines as they are intended to be. The sequel to Will Save the Galaxy for Food does not disappoint and even ups the stakes from the previous book.

The Girl Who Drank the Moon - This has to be one of the most charming books I’ve read. It is magic and wonder at it’s finest, no need for long explanations on how the world works. If you like Ghibli movies, you’ll be interested in this book. It has its dark moments but isn’t outside of what you’ll find in something like Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, and Nausicca.

The Goblin Emperor - the youngest son of the Elf King finds himself emperor after the death of his father and brothers in an assassination. The only problem is, that he is only half-elf... his late mother was a Goblin, and he had been in exile as an embarrassment to the family for most of his life. He knows nothing of how the courts work and what’s left of his own family work against him just for being who he is.

Lost Gods: Brom - I liked this book more than I did American Gods (which I read a few years ago). It is darker and bleaker by the bucket loads. One of the few books with a downer ending that I actually liked. I would compare this book to books like All the Pretty Horses and No Country for Old Men-- but it is a Fantasy!

Above Average.

Siege Tactics (Spells, Swords, & Stealth. Book 4)  - What happens to adventurers after they retire? A fun concept that is explored with our party of NPCs running across a town full of epic-level characters that no longer have a player.

The Arthurian Saga - The Crystal Cave / The Hollow Hills  / The Last Enchantment / The Wicked Day - A more realistic version of the Arthurian tales, taking the POV of Merlin, bastard son of a princess, as he earns notoriety as a scholar and wizard.  The Wicked Day takes the POV of Mordred, making him far more sympathetic than other iterations of his character.

Arc of a Scythe - Scythe / Thunderhead / The Toll - Science and Technology eliminates death and in order to prevent over population and complacency an order of grim reapers are chosen to randomly deal out quotas of permanent deaths. An example of what happens when every need and want is satisfied by a higher force and the apathy that causes rot in human society and the superiority complex of those in charge of life and death.

The Diviners / Lair of Dreams / Before the Devil Breaks You / The King of Crows - Horror during the Roaring 20′s. Tackles issues as Racism, Poverty, Government Secrecy, Christian-Evangelical Cults, Nationalism Cult Mentality, Communism, Labor Unions, Eugenics, Post-WW1 trauma... It could almost pass as an adult fiction book. I wouldn’t recommend giving it to someone under High school age.

Ancillary Justice / Ancillary Sword / Ancillary Mercy - Artificial Intelligence takes over human bodies as a form of capital punishment, controlling ships and space stations. The dominate human empire outgrew the need to label any gender, using “she” to refer to everyone rather than the vaguer “them/they” pronouns, and only outlying colonies stick to the binary ideals. Think of “The Left Hand of Darkness” but on a more broader scale and as the default majority/ruling empire. Toss in a solid military action novel on top and it isn’t nearly as boring as Left Hand.

Children of Time / Children of Ruin - War destroys the human population of Earth and those that remain are the ones that headed out to the stars on tera-forming missions. A virus created to advance life forms to prepare a world for human habitation runs amuck with out its overseers, creating intelligent arachnids, crustaceans, and squid.

The Licanius Trilogy - The Shadow of What Was Lost / An Echo of Things to Come / The Light of all that Falls -  It is very heavy on info overload, there is a lot to keep track of, so much so there is a summary of book one and two at the start of the third. I like the twist at the end of the first book and that the villain is actually trying to help save the world, and you spend most of the second stuck between who thinks they are doing the right thing and who is actually doing the right thing - a lot to talk about doing the lesser of two evils.

Mythos - Steven Fry - A humorous retelling of Greek mythology. I read Mythology - by Edith Hamilton prior to this book, which is a more scholarly take on the myths, and helps if you are unfamiliar with classical mythology prior to reading Fry’s take on it.

Iron, Fire and Ice: The Real History That Inspired Game of Thrones - a nice history book about Iron Age royalty. It is actually refreshing to read after going through so much faux fiction that is in Philippa Gregory’s books.

Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? - Children ask questions to a Mortician about death and what happens to bodies after people die. I listened to her autobiography last year/year before and it is worth picking up this one along with it.

Average, but still good.

Jack Campbell’s Lost Fleet Universe: Triumphant (Genesis Fleet, Book 3) / Tarnished Knight: Lost Stars, book 1 - The realistic space battles just drag me back in each and every time.

The Case of the Damaged Detective: 5-Minute Sherlock - Drew Hayes can’t write a boring book. It isn’t quite on point as his other series, but still fun to read. Hayes is really good at making YA books with Adult Protagonists. It is a road-trip book, the main character is a washed-out operative that is getting his second chance playing bodyguard and future assistant to the 5-minute Sherlock.

Locked In / Head On - Do you remember “Surrogates”? that Bruce Willis movie where people walk around in robotic avatars, well... it’s almost the same thing. A virus kills millions, save for a select few that experience “lock in” syndrome and are able to connect to robots via their brains and the internet.  The main character is gender neutral and you get a choice to listen to the book with a male or female reader.

Murder by Other Means: The Dispatcher Book 2 - more John Scalzi! The first book was in my top list a few years ago, and i enjoyed the sequel just as much. Between Scalzi’s The Dispatcher and Locked In series, i like the Dispatcher more.

The Shattered Sea Trilogy: Half a King / Half the World / Half a War - Joe Abercrombie’s attempt to make Young Adult books. It keeps all the grim dark, but lacks all the swearing and humor that made The First Law books more enjoyable. Many of Joe’s favorite character tropes are still present and is one of the better “Fall to Darkness” stories I’ve read. It also has different POV characters each book and is one of those “faux fantasy” settings.

Mage Errant: Books 1, 2 & A Traitor in Skyhold: Book 3 - If you are wanting to get away from Harry Potter, pick up this book series. It takes place in magic school, but it is its own world and setting and not just a hidden world within our own. The main group of kids are misfits among the school, unable to master their powers, that get taken up by the badass librarian to be trained in more unconventional ways.

Dawn of Wonder: The Wakening Book 1 - the main character has ptsd from growing up in an abusive household, and i thought it was handled rather well. He would be rather competent and cleaver most of the time until he gets triggered into an episode, he fights really hard to overcome this short-falling of his. Standard classic affair else wise, family leaves home because the local authority figure doesn’t want them around anymore, goes to big city, kid wants to do good and avenge the deaths he was accused of, joins the badass school of hard knocks...  big powerful evil thing trying to consume the world.

The Rage of Dragons - It shares a lot of tropes and story points with Red Rising... just in a fantasy setting, not in space. If you are wanting fantasy with POC main characters and a non-European-centric culture, that doesn’t pull any punches, give it a shot.

Earthsea - Tehanu and Tales from Earthsea - I had read the first three books several years back, and i did re-read them in order to refresh myself prior to reading the final two.

The Secret Garden - I absolutely loved the movie from the 90′s as a kid, and finally got around to listening to the book.

Six of Crows - A heist book in fantasy world with the magic users being heavily “Jewish / Slavic” coded by how they are treated and persecuted. I might have thought more favorably about the book if i hadn’t read other books with “street rat slum” main characters. (Seriously, after spending six books with Royce in Riyria someone like Kas is just second bananas)

Unconventional Heroes / Two Necromancers - Comedic Fantasy, the humor’s not on par with say MogWorld, and has more jokes than Fred The Vampire Accountant. It is still a parody of villains and heroes in fantasy worlds. I would find it safe for a 12/13yo to read, cursing and all, though they might not be aware of many of the tropes that are being deconstructed. The reader of the book did better in this one then he did with Six of Crows and Beezer, still the audio needed some editing because it repeats itself a few times.

Once More Upon A Time (Free Audio Book)  - I don’t always care to read romance stories. I like the idea behind it however, to trade their love for each other in order to save their partner’s life, then learn to re-love one another again.

Monster Hunter International - If you think Dresden is too liberal, this takes a hard turn to the right.. replace the magic with GUNS, lots and lots of GUNS. An organization that hates the government but hunts monsters for government bounties. The main cast is multi-ethnic and they do make fun of that at one point. There isn’t a lot of thought into the plot, because action is #1, but it is fun enough to ignore the politicking.

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Collection - i bitched about there not being an omnibus last year, and then Audible uploaded one. The ending is still one big clusterfuck.

Stephen King’s Insomnia - this book is the bridge between Steven King’s two universes. It is a sequel to IT and brings up the Darktower often. IT dealt mainly with childhood fears, Insomnia deals with Elderly and feminine fears.

D’Arc / Culdesac: War with No Name - I liked D’Arc more than i did Mort-e, and Culdesac is more on track with Mort-e. The virus that mutated the ants and animals reminded me of the virus from Children of Time/Ruin, even though i read Mort-e first, reading D’Arc after CoT let me notice it.

Michael McDowell’s:  The Amulet / The Elementals / Gilded Needles / Blackwater - From the guy that wrote the screenplay of Beetlejuice, and the pioneer of the Southern Gothic Horror. Gilded Needles is a bit out of place, taking place in 1890′s, and is more of a social horror rather than a super natural horror the other books are.

Gardens of the Moon: The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Book 1 - high fantasy dark fiction. if you really want some CHONKY door stoppers, there’s over 10 of them in this series. Could’ve done less with the manipulative bastard mage that speaks in 3rd person. I had read The Willful Child, an attempted comedy science fiction novel by the same author, and it showed that the author was unfamiliar with that kind of genera and should stick to grim fantasy.

The Knife’s Edge / Citadel of Fire: The Ronin Saga - This is one of those series that I’m always going “oh, that reminds me of [insert another better series]”  At times it reminded me of The Licanius Trilogy, Shades of Magic, Arc of Scythe, Riyria, Korra... It is just shy of being as good as them, and is rather firmly in that Sci-Fi Fantasy Ghetto and has a bit of “anime” feel to it with their magic users having ‘power levels’ and the power creep. 

In Calabria - My only problem with the book is the massive age-gap between the Main character and his love interest. Outside of that, the whole Unicorns in the modern world concept is done very well.

Pout Neuf (Audible Free Book)  - Journalism and romance during WW2. A quick read and the book really shows that research had been done about the setting and time period.

Nut Jobs: Cracking California's Strangest $10 Million Dollar Heist: An Audible Original - Not only does it talk about the heist, it actually touches on the subject of migrant farmers and slave labor, as well as the desertification of the California Valley.

The Science of Sci-Fi: From Warp Speed to Interstellar Travel (Free Audio Book) - a neat little informative podcast if you are looking for an introduction to some of the harder science fiction.

Mythology - by Edith Hamilton - Text book about Greek Mythology. Like “used in schools” text book. It is a good read if you don’t want to go through Ovid, Virgil, Homer, and all the other classical writers on your own.

The Space Race: An Audible Original - America didn’t win the Space Race. Russia did just about everything first. The only thing we did first was put people on the moon. It also goes into detail about how the inventor of the Nazi’s V2 rockets became employed with the US Space program. As well as the government’s announcement to let space travel become privatized.

Pale Blue Dot / Cosmos: A Personal Voyage - It’s Carl Sagan. Come on! Everyone should be reading them. Pale Blue Dot was being turned into an Audiobook in the 90′s but with Sagan’s death, only the first few chapters were read by him and his partner reads the rest of it (she does a decent job, and i understand why they wanted her to read it, it should’ve been done similarly to Cosmos, with guest readers doing each chapter)

Thicker Than Water (Free Audio Book)  - start up pharmaceutical company scams people out of millions with promises of a miracle machine that was ahead of its time. Story told from the whistleblower himself as he recounts what his job was within the company and how he knew the owner/founder of the company and how coming out about what was going on ruined his relationship with his family and friends.

Don't Panic: Douglas Adams and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - biography on Douglas Adams and the history behind the creative process behind the Hitchhiker’s Guide series.

The Genius of Birds - It reminded me a lot of “The Soul of an Octopus” in quality. It is rather informative about birds, how they behave, and how we judge intelligence in non-human animals.

It’s “ok.”

Les Miserabes - I can see why people favor movies and theater versions because of how dense the book is, getting the cliff notes version of the book instead of reading several chapters about the Battle of Waterloo. 

Viva Durant and the Secret of the Silver Buttons (Audible Free Book) - It’s cute, and I spent the next several weeks humming that freaking song.

Challenger Deep - A book about mental illness by the same person that brought us The Arc of a Scythe series. It isn’t a bad read, but if you are prone to get panic attacks and have mental illness yourself, you might get too into it and make you uneasy. It can help with neurotypical people with understanding how some illnesses work.

Into the Wilds (Warriors, Book 1)  - Ah, the cat book. It is prob because there are soooo many books in this series that it over-saturates the kids impressionable minds.

House of Teeth (Audible Free Book)  - I read this book prior to Monster Hunter International, and thinking back on this one, i am reminded about the other. Save for this one is PG. So... the kid friendly version.

The Martian Chronicles - Space Horror, on Mars. If you like old science fiction, like Classic Trek, Wells, or Forbidden Planet stuff. There is a lot of zerust.

Andrea Vernon and the Corporation for UltraHuman Protection - The third superhero series I’ve read this past year. It is not as ground breaking nor subversive as Villain’s Code or Dreadnought. The humor is a bit too forced and parts of it falls into “we can be more offensive because it is an adult book” category.

Interview with the Robot - Don’t really care for books or programs that are set up in the “interview” format where it is two people talking to one another. (I have no fucking idea how this book got top Kids book of the year on Audible, it is more of a YA book... it must been because it was Free and lots of people picked it because the rest of the choices that month were complete garbage)

Micromegas - perhaps one of the oldest examples of Speculative Science Fiction. Written by Voltaire, it is about a giant from another solar system that is so big that humans and life on Earth are microscopic. “what value are the lives of ants to a man?”

The Three Musketeers - i had forgotten how much espionage there was in this book. I would say this is a good companion book to Don Quixote, as it takes its fair share of inspiration from and even name-drops the character a couple times. 

Charles Dickens: Oliver Twist / David Copperfield / A Tale of Two Cities - DC is the standout IMO among the three, it is Dickens’ Magnum Opus. Les Mis did a far better job with the Revolution than Tale did as well. I felt rather obligated to reading these books because of the subplot in the Age of Madness books being about Poverty during the Industrial Revolution and Workers Revolts against the Ruling Class.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea - the version i listened too made most of the Americans sound like GWB... which is funny because one of them is Canadian, and the Comic Relief character about how boorish Americans are.

Stuck (Free Audio Book) -  it is a neat idea, getting jarred free of time but everybody else isn’t and doesn’t remember. It gets a little heavy for a kids book near the end, edging into YA territory as the character gets older mentally and the people around him age physically.

Phreaks (Free Audio Book) - i knew a lot about Captain Crunch and other phone hackers of the 60′s. There is a subplot of the big radioactive corporation covering up causing cancer to their workers, and the father (voiced by Christian Slater) being in the closet but still homophobic about it.

Silverswift (Free Audio Book) - If you like fairy tales set in modern times, it is worth a look. It is similar to In Calabira in that way. The mom being the nonbeliever and thinking grandma is off her rocker, but the granddaughter knows it in her bones that grandma is telling the truth.

Sleeping Giants - alien mechs from the distant past, once mistaken as the titans and gods form mythology, now being studied and experimented on by the government. This is another “interview style” story telling.

Celtic Mythology: Tales of Gods, Goddesses, and Heroes - there is a lot of names and stories, it is worth prob getting a physical copy of the book to keep things straight and to use as a reference.

How to Defeat a Demon King in Ten Easy Steps - A love letter to The Legend of Zelda’s Ocarina of Time and other RPG games.

Casino Royal: James Bond - the movie was rather faithful, including the part of being tied to a chair. I do wish they kept more of the book’s ending where Bond was ready to retire prior to his secret-spy love interest gets killed.

Aliens: Bug Hunt - a compilation of Alien stores about people landing on various planets and encountering aliens, not always the Xenomorphs we know, but the term “Bug” came synonymous to any dangerous alien lifeforms encountered.

Macbeth: A Novel - retelling the story of Macbeth but in a novel form. If you can’t get past the language of the original play, this would help. It sets it more firmly in historical fiction.

Hannibal: A Novel -  I went ahead and re watched the tv show after finishing the book. I’ve seen the movie a dozen times, and i understand why they changed the ending to the movie. The book is the main one that characterizes Hannibal and the show uses a lot of the plot. Hannibal Rising wasn’t really needed because Hannibal (in this book) does think/talk about what happened to his sister and home, and i can see why Harris didn’t want to write that book either. The audiobook is rather poor quality, they talked too fast in places and i don’t really care for their acting...

The Power of Six - I read I am Number 4 several years back and this one popped up on sale so i nabbed it. I like Neil Kaplan, and i think this one is better than the first one and actually gets into the meat of the story.

Cut and Run: A Light-Hearted Dark Comedy - body parts harvesting.... mmmm.

Calypso - non-Fiction, biography of the author. Talks about his family, his life with his partner, and what he does. Much of it is charming and it is read by the author. this was prior to him loosing his marbles about retail workers and becoming a karen.

Our Harlem: Seven Days of Cooking, Music and Soul at the Red Rooster - the history of Harlem and the Harlem Renaissance. I didn’t mind this podcast so much because i was reading The Diviners during the same time.

Malcolm and Me - another biographical book. one of the free books i got during Feb’ Black History Month.

History of Bourbon (Free Audio Book) - Informative about the liqueur industry in America.

Junkyard Cats: Shining Smith Book 1 - post apocalyptic action science fiction novel. the moment that guy showed up i was “that’s your bf.” and it was so... the plot wasn’t hard to figure out, it’s all about the action and setting.

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress - One of the better Heinlein books. The man can’t write romance and he is rather big on casual polygamy and open marriages. An anarchist-revolution book written by someone that is more on the Libertarian side of the aisle. Mycroft (the computer) comes off as rather antiquated, an AI that runs on a closed server, communicating through the telephone lines and printed paper, makes me wonder what Heinlein would’ve done if he was told about the internet and Deep Fake tech. (the book takes place in like 2075, but written in 1966)

Caffeine: How Caffeine Created the Modern World - the production of coffee and it’s prevalence around the world.

The Life and Times of Prince Albert - Exactly what it says on the can. *rimshot*

The Real Sherlock: An Audible Original - a biography of Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle.

The Design of Everyday Things - using psychology to improve the design of systems, products, and the modern business model.  It gives proper terminology for several common design features and how to improve on existing structures.

Bottom of the Barrel.

The Pagan World: Ancient Religions before Christianity. I was hoping there would have been something in there about European Religions, there isn’t, and the book was mostly Greek and Roman life styles and how gods are worshiped. It let me know where the word “auger” came from and why it was used in the Licanius Trilogy.

Life Ever After - disjointed at best. a couple that aren’t good for each other spend the next several hundred years in a crappy relationship.

Beyond Strange Lands: An Audible Original - The audio was complete crap on half of the voices. Which is bad because this could’ve been better. It is a Pod Cast Show and the director couldn’t make sure everybody had decent recording equipment and the sound effects often drown out the actors.

Henrietta & Eleanor: A Retelling of Jekyll and Hyde: An Audible Original Drama - They were going for a modern telling, but the language used is archaic. They speak like Dickens characters even though they talk about cellphones and computers.

A Crazy Inheritance: The Ghostsitter book 1 - The concept is there, but it is too nerfed. It was made for the 8-12yo crowd in mind by people that don’t know how to write for children.

Tell Me Lies (Free Audio Book) - It really wants to be smart. Who’s playing who and who is the actual villain of this story? If you want a quick “who done it?” maybe look into it.

Evil Eye (Free on Audible Plus) - told through phone calls between a mother and daughter. The whole genera of evil boyfriends/husbands isn’t really my cup of tea, and the boyfriend’s actor was too fake and the set up to the meat of the story was annoying.

The Half-life of Marie Curie - I didn’t mind learning stuff about Marie Curie... falls squarely in “made for TV lifetime movie” quality though. You should not carry around a vile of uranium where ever you go.

Alone with the Stars - A girl in Florida hears the call for help from Amelia Earhart, but nobody listens to her. Part fiction, part biographical. It would’ve been better as a biography and talking about various conspiracy theories about what happened to her and finding the pieces of the airplane.

Beezer - The son of the Devil learning to become a good person with a found family... however, most of the characters are annoying.

The Year of Magical Thinking (Free Audio Book) - very heavy on the subjects about loss and death.

Complete Garbage.

The Getaway (Free Audio Book) - A man being a POS by stalking and abducting women. It broadcasts just about everything that is going to happen.

Agent 355 (Free Audio Book)  - Do you like “American Mythology?” Like the whole “the founders are the greatest people in the world” kind of vibe? I don’t. I also hate the main character for being one of those “i’m smart, because i read books that women aren’t supposed to” girls when she doesn’t really think for herself at all.

[nomanwalksalone]

ALTERNATIVE STYLE ICON: RICHARD CHAMBERLAIN IN WALLENBERG: A HERO’S STORY

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

The writer George Santayana famously wrote that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Ironically many who repeat his quote forget who first uttered it.

I had long meant to write about Richard Chamberlain in this role. I once referred to him as “the fey king of the miniseries” and I don’t regret it: foppish, almost milquetoast in fare as varied as a two-part TV version of The Bourne Identity (with Jaclyn Smith, natch), Shogun, and as a leading candidate for an honorary Seinfeld puffy shirt: Not only did he play the Count of Monte Cristo in a 1975 TV movie, but a bunch of what Elaine Benes would have called chandelier-swinging characters in other Dumas adaptations, including Aramis in Richard Lester’s The Three Musketeers and Louis XIV and his twin in The Man in the Iron Mask. Postmodern swashbuckler author Arturo Perez-Reverte even described a character in one of his own novels as looking “like Richard Chamberlain in The Thorn Birds, only more manly.” That same Thorn Birds role, Father Ralph de Bricassart, also inspired a certain Rhunette Ferguson to give her son, a future New York Jets player, perhaps my favorite name ever: D’Brickashaw.

Dubbing Chamberlain an Alternative Style Icon for his role as Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg is low-hanging fruit. For years this TV special dwelt at the bottom of my Netflix queue for that express purpose. Former Savile Row tailors Manning & Manning won an Emmy award for the outfits they made for him; decades later Bryan Manning had some very interesting things to say to the inimitable Simon Crompton of Permanent Style about the 1930s and 1940s cutting styles he had to adopt for Chamberlain’s outfits for the movie. Chamberlain’s costumes are appropriately dashing, from the full diplomatic gala white tie ensemble worn while conspiring with the Papal Nuncio of Budapest to a tan double-breasted suit with horizontal peaked lapels that is, quite simply, magnificent. Zagreb, one of the most beautiful cities in eastern Europe, admirably filled in for 1940s Budapest and Stockholm in the making of this production. I’m fairly certain that I’ve stayed at the Zagreb hotel on whose esplanade Chamberlain wore that suit, in an early expository scene where the American and Swedish governments encourage Wallenberg to take a position with the Swedish legation in Budapest.  I’ve been told Zagreb’s one of two cities in Europe where the street lamps in certain neighborhoods are still gaslit. Gaslighting happens to have been one of the reasons that I finally wrote about this icon.

Of course there’s plenty to mock in the conventions of this telefilm, even beyond Chamberlain’s indisputable 1970s and 1980s stock hero status: its heavy-handed setup and plotting, making Wallenberg out to be a one-man anti-Nazi force from his time at home in Sweden (wearing a U. Michigan sweatshirt to indicate that he had studied in the US - did college sweatshirts even exist back then?). Miniseries meant melodrama and its archetypal characters: an adorable child whom Wallenberg saves from the death camps only to die of illness; a shoehorned-in love interest in the form of a kindhearted baroness who lobbies her suspicious husband to relax the Hungarian government's strictures on Jews; a fiery Hungarian resistance fighter who provides the unofficial, combative counterpoint to Wallenberg’s diplomatic, humanitarian efforts through official channels. And, of course, Wallenberg’s kidnapping by the Soviets at the fall of Budapest meant his story was perfectly framed for 1985, when we still couldn’t trust those Russians. (In fact, to this day no one knows what they did with him.)

A few appropriately haunting and powerful moments do ring true, including Wallenberg’s cordial verbal fencing matches over contraband Scotch and cigarettes with Adolf Eichmann. Whether those meetings really took place in that form or not, their film versions appropriately capture the realities of how we are forced to engage with evil. Rarely are we simply battling an easily identifiable other, weapon to weapon. Instead, we encounter evil in the everyday – in fact, it seeks us out, finds shared ground, converses with us over pleasantries and hospitality even as we recognize its intentions. It identifies with us, we identify with it. Even as you know it is evil.

Eichmann had made it his avowed duty to kill the Jews of Europe. Wallenberg’s mission, as an emissary of an officially neutral power, was to help save as many as he could. And he did, through famously fearless, reckless endeavors including the distribution of thousands of official-looking Swedish passes to the Jews of Budapest, the creation of vast cultural centers and warehouses in the Swedish mission buildings in which these new countrymen could work under the aegis of their adoptive country, and savvy diplomatic maneuvering with the Hungarian and German authorities and military. He went as far as to climb on top of a train bound for Auschwitz and distribute passes to as many deportees as he could while soldiers fired shots at him. Looking back, historians suggest they were firing over his head to warn him as they could easily have dropped him at that range, but it’s not likely Wallenberg knew that at the time.

At that time diplomats of neutral powers could make fortunes more safely as armchair heroes: playboy Porfirio Rubirosa reportedly did so in Paris selling visas to the Dominican Republic to French Jews during World War II. In that respect, perhaps, both he and Wallenberg were heroes… of different sorts.

Wallenberg did not do it for money. The Wallenbergs were Swedish aristocracy (with, the film takes pains to remind us, an ounce of Jewish blood) with considerable means – hence the finely tailored wardrobe for Chamberlain. Thus, an easy cynical response to this essay could be that a rich aristocrat with diplomatic immunity risked nothing swanning around the salons of Budapest, just like the fictional gentleman spies we read about and watch on screen.

That response is wrong. Heroism is not just born of opportunity. It is recognizing when a choice confronts you and taking the difficult, unpopular and dangerous one in order to do what is right. Fictional heroes like Bond or Steed rarely suffer meaningful personal loss and rarely confront the reality of evil. Evil is your friend with many positive qualities, maybe more intelligent or cultured or better dressed than you, the one you looked up to, who gradually reveals the awful things he or she believes and has done. Evil is those complicit in carrying out those things by their inaction, their credulity, or their cooperation, not at the point of a gun but of a paycheck. Evil is legal, logically explained, repeated and reported until its baseless reasoning becomes fact and the foundation for more lies, more evil. Evil can so easily become the system.

Hindsight is a handicap, for it doesn’t usually permit us to see that there were no times without ambiguity in battles between good and evil and no certainty that good triumphs. We have the privilege of retrospect to acknowledge the dashing diplomat in Savile Row suits was a hero for saving innocents from deportation and death as part of the most ghastly genocide in history. We learned what genocide is, and had to invent the word to describe it. Because at that time the people singled out for persecution and death were unpopular, historically, socially and legally marginalized, supposedly easily identifiable and classifiable. A group that societies had made it easy - through regulation, ghettoization, oppression and antagonism – to hate, and whole false narratives drawn up to explain why that group hated and wanted to destroy us even more than we them.

One of A Hero’s Story’s most timely and inspiring lines is Wallenberg’s reply to the Hungarian ruler’s query why the King of Sweden cared so much about the Jews of another country, when he was a Christian. Wallenberg reminded the prime minister that the King’s “concerns transcend religion or national borders.” That concern is humanity, our lowest common denominator, our shared recognition of our capacity for suffering. That concern drove a man to acts of incredible selflessness, a generous mercy that seems to have cost him his liberty and his life. There is no romance to Raoul Wallenberg’s fate. It is worth remembering that he probably saw little romance in the actions he took in Budapest.

Now is no less an unromantic time, no less a time when others – so many different others –are easily denigrated, feared, distrusted, brutalized. Otherization, both of many within our borders and pressing against them, has returned, as has fascism, with apologists blandly elegant or brutally populist, like some inauspicious comet in our skies. Now, again, is a time for heroes – men and women who recognize how difficult and dangerous it is to do what is right. That struggle is far from those of Chamberlain’s habitual roles swashbuckling against a monolithic, universally despicable, evil. Evil is among us, habituating us, desensitizing us, gaslighting us. Far from frills and fanfare, celebration, or certainty of triumph, can we place ourselves in Wallenberg’s Budapester shoes and do what is right?

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This post first appeared on the No Man blog in February 2017.

[chiseler]

Rip Torn: A Retrospective

Rip Torn died on July 9th at age 88. That he lived that long is nothing short of miraculous.

In the summer of 1969, Rip Torn was drunkenly screaming through New York’s West Village on his motorcycle when he slammed it into a police cruiser. Torn broke his leg in the accident, but didn’t notice. The next morning he got up, got on a plane, and flew to Paris where he was set to star in Joseph Strick’s film version of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. He shot the entire film all hopped up on painkillers on an untreated busted leg,. And you know what? He still gives a remarkable performance. It wasn’t the only time he worked with broken bones, either.

For over 60 years, Torn carried on in the proud tradition of John Barrymore, Errol Flynn, Robert Mitchum, Frank Sinatra, and Lawrence Tierney as the last of the great Hollywood hellions. In between insane drunken escapades, he was nominated for Emmys and Tonys and Oscars, he established himself as one of America’s most respected character actors, a man with a knack for making even a small role a pivotal one, and he was in Every Movie and TV Show Ever Made. Next time you watch something take a close look at the credits and you’ll see.

Torn’s given name was Elmore Rual Torn, Jr., but was nicknamed Rip as a boy, as was tradition among all the Torn men. He was born and raised and educated in Texas, studying  animal husbandry in college before turning to acting.

The motivation behind the decision was different than most. He hitchhiked to California to break into the movies not because he wanted to be a big star, but because he thought it would be an easy way to raise enough money to buy himself a ranch. Things didn’t work out quite so zip bang as he’d planned, though he did earn small roles on TV and made his feature debut in an uncredited role as a dentist in Elia Kazan’s great and scandalous 1956 film Baby Doll. Kazan hired him again the following year to play another uncredited but extremely important role in the equally great Face in the Crowd.

Although he wasn’t making the kind of money he needed to buy that ranch, he was getting enough acting jobs along the way to start taking the whole enterprise a bit more seriously. He moved to New York to study at the Actor’s studio, worked in theater both on and off Broadway, and from the mid-’50s to the mid-60s established himself on TV in everything from Playhouse 90 to Thriller to Route 66 to The Untouchables. After that things took off. There was just something sinister about Torn, those wicked eyes of his, that crooked-toothed leer, the whole rat-like demeanor, that suited him for villainous roles of all kinds. Plus he was a chameleon who could shift his whole look and stature with the simplest change of accent. He would go on to play Judas in King of Kings, countless presidents, doctors, senators, military officers and judges. He played rednecks and gangsters, cowboys and spies and executives. He played Walt Whitman twice, was in a whole bunch of Tennessee William’s plays (on Broadway, TV and film). Yeah, like I said, between the mid-’50s and the present, he was in every damn thing ever made. Trying to summarize his career is pretty much impossible, but there was a stretch there from the mid-60s to the late 70s when he was top billed when he was turning small supporting roles into leads, when he was moving easily between TV, experimental films, and big budget Hollywood jobs, and when he was starting to earn himself a reputation as a wild man.

Looking back on it now, it’s hard to imagine the kind of talent, both in front of and behind the camera, that came together on the 1965 period gambling picture The Cincinnati Kid. It was originally a Sam Peckinpah film with a script by Ring Lardner. Then Peckinpah was fired (surprise!) and Norman Jewison was brought in to direct. He thought the script was too self important and talky, so he brought in Terry Southern. He also gave Hal Ashby his first big break, bringing him in as editor and assistant director. Steve McQueen stars as a hotshot young poker player in ‘30s-era New Orleans. Karl Malden is a former hotshot on the skids. Jack weston is the loud whiny guy. Ann-Margaret is the bad girl, Tuesday Weld is the good girl, and Edward G. Robinson is the old man, the undisputed champ, the stud poker king feared by everyone.

Ah, then there’s Rip Torn. His name’s deep in the credits but the whole film turns around him. He plays the slick and sleazy Southern Gentleman who will stop at nothing to see the Robinson character toppled. See, Robinson beat him at poker once, and for a Southern Gentleman of his stature there’s nothing in the world worse than losing. There’s one scene in particular, Torn’s showpiece here, in which he tries to blackmail the dealer (Malden) into cheating, and though it doesn’t sound like much nobody can muster up the cool menace like Torn. Oooohhh, he’s such a rotten son of a bitch.

Four years later he starred in Moses Ginsberg’s first film, Coming Apart, an experimental number that’s been called “More a Happening than an actual movie,.” Filmed with a single static camera to recreate the feel of a documentary, Torn stars as an unbalanced psychiatrist who torments and confuses his female patients, eventually going completely batty himself. It all takes place in one small room shot by that one unmoving camera. It’s at turns compelling and unbelievably tedious, and if it weren’t for Torn (thank god for that Actor’s Studio improv training) it would be unwatchable.

Around this same time Dennis Hopper cast Torn to be in Easy Rider. Then at what was either a production meeting or a cocktail party in New York (depending on who’s telling the story), Hopper and Torn got into a bit of a ruckus over whether or not all Texans were  rednecks out to kill hippies. A knife was pulled (though Peter Fonda would later claim it was a butter knife, or maybe a fork, or maybe both). Next thing you know, Torn was thrown off the picture, and Hopper cast Jack Nicholson in his place.

About a year later Torn joined the cast of Norman Mailer’s improvisational experiment, Maidstone. Essentially it was a raucous, drunken three-day party out at Grove Press founder Barney Rossett’s Long Island estate around which Mailer tried to film himself as a director trying to shoot a movie. As the story goes, before shooting started each actor was given a card briefly describing his or her character, and that was as close as anyone got to a script. One character, however, was given a card at random informing the holder that his character was in fact a CIA assassin whose job it was to kill Mailer. The card’s recipient was supposed to be kept a secret from everyone in the cast, including Mailer.

Well, according to Rossett there was a little confusion there. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe the card simply wasn’t worded clearly. In any case Torn (naturally) got the card, but instead of thinking his character was supposed to kill Mailer, he somehow got the idea that HE was supposed to kill Mailer. Lucky for Mailer, too, as the confusion resulted in the only scene in the film anyone remembers.

After the shoot was over and most everyone had gone home, Mailer and his family are walking back toward the house when they’re stopped by a grinning and quite mad Torn, who is also clutching a small hatchet. The cameras are rolling and you can tell this was something Mailer was not prepared for. Nor was he prepared when Torn goes after his skull with the hatchet. The two wrestle each other to the ground, Mailer bites Torn’s ear, Torn leaves a deep gash in Mailer’s scalp, and Mailer’s wife and children scream in horror until a couple crew members pull Torn off him.

And that, my friends, is entertainment!

(The next morning Rossett found a drunken midget floating in his swimming pool, but that’s another story.)

Then came the motorcycle accident and shooting Tropic of Cancer on a broken leg. As it happens there were two films based on Henry Miller novels filming simultaneously two blocks apart in Paris. Jens Jorgen  Thorsen’s Quiet Days in Clichy starred Paul Valjean, an American dancer who looked an awful lot like Miller, but neither sounded nor acted like him. Torn, meanwhile, looked absolutely nothing like Miller, but somehow by adopting just the slightest hint of a Brooklyn accent (and on all those painkillers) was somehow able to embody him completely. It’s a gritty, funny, poetic film and Torn is great, though to be fair it should be noted that Clichy was dirtier.

Also in 1970, Torn spoke out against the war in Vietnam on a TV show, and a few nights later someone fired a bullet through his window. It was a hell of a year for him.

In ‘73s Darryl Duke film, Payday, Torn gives what he himself would later refer to as his best performance. Or maybe his favorite. In any case he’s really something as Maury Dann, a  womanizing, hard-drinking, bastard son of a bitch of a second-rate country singer. Dann and his band are on tour  through the South as Dann screws and screws over everyone around him, from band members to family, to pretty much every woman he meets. He never quite hit the top, but insists on acting and being treated like he has. Toward the end he even talks his chauffer into taking a murder rap for him, since he has to get to a show. It’s an extremely dark, cynical, and painfully accurate portrait of the country music business of the early ‘70s, and Torn does all his own singing. It makes for a nice counterpoint to Robert Duvall’s quiet, soft-spoken, and sensitive country singer in Tender Mercies from a decade later.

Although again his name is buried deep in the credits of Larry Cohen’s 1977 biopic The Secret Files of J. Edgar Hoover the entire film revolves around him. He narrates, after all, and gives another memorable performance as a young man who decides to join the Bureau after his father (another agent) is gunned down by a two-bit hood on the street. After seeing what’s going on in the FBI, though, and after being punished himself for a minor indiscretion, he tries to bring Hoover down a notch or two. In what could have been a hamfisted cartoon, both Cohen and Torn (and star Broderick Crawford near the end of his career) manage a shockingly human portrait.

As a flipside to Torn’s tendency to turn minor supporting roles into leads, there was 1978’s Coma, the medical conspiracy thriller directed by Michael Chrichton based on the Robin Cook novel. Torn was fourth-billed behind Genevieve Bujold, MIchael Douglas, and Richard Widmark. And sure, Torn’s character, Dr. George, is the film’s central villain, the man behind a Boston hospital’s fiendish conspiracy to harvest human organs and sell them on the black market, but he only appears in one scene, and speaks roughly four lines. It’s unclear whether this was the plan from the start, an attempt to turn his character into another Harry Lime or Mabuse,  or if maybe all his other scenes were cut after Torn went after Crichton with a hatchet (we can only hope). In any case he was missed. He might have livened up what was otherwise a pretty godawful picture.

As Torn grew older and a little larger and his hair started getting thinner, two things happened. He began playing more authority figures, which only makes sense I guess. He had that look and sound about him. He also started doing more comedies and genre films. Sometimes he even combined the two, playing Ronald Reagan in ‘82s Airplane II: The Sequel.

In ‘91 he was Bob Diamond, the charming, sleazy, and utterly  ineffective lawyer trying to give Albert Brooks a boost out of Purgatory in Defending Your Life. He was the sinister CEO in the otherwise dreadful Robocop 3. He even began lending his voice to animated features and video games (usually playing a god of some kind).

Then in 1999 Dennis Hopper was a guest on Leno and told a few old Easy Rider stories, including the one about how Torn had pulled a knife on him at a party. Well, Torn, remembering things a bit differently, sued him for defamation.

It’s pretty hilarious if you think about it; these two guys who were both completely out of their heads in the late ‘60s going to court to determine which one of them was behaving badly. I mean, they both had reputations to maintain.

Well, most of the witnesses agreed with Torn that it was Hopper who pulled the knife (except for Peter Fonda, who remembered all kinds of different utensils), and the court ordered Hopper to pay Torn nearly half a million in damages.  It was all kind of silly. I mean, it’s not like the story cost him any work. Hell, trying to literally kill Norman Mailer on camera didn’t even cost him any work. But I guess pride’s a funny thing.

After that he continued to work regularly, as Agent Zed in the Men in Black films, in sit-coms, in made-for-TV films, christ, anything that came along. Every director I’ve ever heard talk about Torn can’t praise him highly enough for his talent and professionalism (except maybe Mailer), though given his admitted temper, it’s also possible they’re just scared of him.  He was nominated for six Emmys for his role on the Larry Sanders Show, and came to be recognized by a whole new generation as the executive Alec Baldwin worships but wants to replace on 30 Rock.

Along the way he set himself the task of repairing any damage his reputation as a hellraiser might have suffered as a result of that Hopper lawsuit. The DUIs started adding up. Or at least getting noticed, in part thanks to the actor’s tendency to swing on the arresting officers. Along with being the president of the Extreme Dodgeball League (who knew it even existed?) it seems he was also an extreme regular at a bar near his Connecticut home.  Every once in awhile the bartender himself would tip off the cops after Torn headed for his car. I’m not sure if that bartender’s still there, but even after being fingered like that Torn remained a regular, though he didn’t always drive. And that in itself might have caused some problems.

After returning home from the bar one night in 2010, Torn found his keys didn’t work in the lock. Seeing no alternative, the 79-year-old was forced to break into his own house. He was probably surprised a few minutes later, just as he got his shoes off and was making himself comfortable,  when the cops arrived and informed him that he wasn’t in his house at all, but had broken into a nearby bank. And the cops were probably surprised to find Torn was carrying a loaded handgun. Yeah, he’s not the only one who’s been there, as I think many of us can attest.

Once it was clarified that it was not Torn’s intention to rob the bank, he was given a two and a half year suspended sentence and three years probation.

The arrest prompted the tightassed, no fun creators of Thirty Rock to kill off his character, but he remained as busy as ever, including an uncredited role as an alien in Men in Black Three.

He once proudly noted that he’s never missed a performance. He’s worked with broken legs, broken arms and ankles, and once while doing a play he passed a kidney stone on opening night. He was a rare, tough old bird, a vanishing breed, and one of my heroes. We won’t see his like again.

by Jim Knipfel

[vagrantblvrd]

Carve It in Stone (1/1)

Summary: Ryan’s gotten sloppy since Trevor’s been dead.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who wanted to see Red Hood Trevor from my Batman AU idea???

(Read on AO3)

Ryan’s gotten sloppy since Trevor’s been dead.

Trevor can’t tell if Ryan’s doing it on purpose, daring all of Gotham to realize he’s not joking when he flashes that charming little smile of his and laughs that annoying idiot laugh.

Winks at the camera – always one of those around him, he’s a Haywood after all – and claims he really is the Batman, why are you all laughing?

There are so many – so fucking many – video and audio clips from interviews or press conferences surrounding some crisis or other where he just up and confesses.

Over and over again, with all these jokes and ha, ha, ha, and a little put out that no one ever seems to believe him.

Not that anyone would consider Richie-rich Ryan James Haywood could be capable of a fraction of the things the Batman’s done. (Most think he can’t even tie his own damn shoes without help.)

And when he’s not baiting the press, all of Gotham, he’s just.

Careless.

So many clues he leaves behind about Batman’s identity, why it’s almost like he wants to get caught.

“Idiot,” Trevor says, little twinge of something that might have been fondness once upon a time.

Before Joker and his crowbar, glaring red numbers counting down and everything that followed after. (The waters of the Pit burning, searing, remaking him into whatever he is now.)

Now -

It feels like bitterness, resentment. This flare of anger as Trevor looks up and sees all the photos pinned to the wall of his safehouse.

Batman and Robin swinging over the rooftops of Gotham like everything before it didn’t matter. Like Ryan didn’t learn a damn thing when Trevor died. Making the same mistakes over and over again, and someone needs to do something about that, don’t they.

So.

Better get to it.

========

The new Robin is fast, Trevor will give him that.

Quick little bastard and clever about it, flips and rolls and flares of his cape – bright flash of color against Gotham’s gloom – and the usual thugs and bruisers always, always go for it.

Take the bait and turn and aim, bang, bang, bang always a step behind because again, the kid’s fast.

Smart-mouthed too, even if he’s not quite up to par with Jeremy and his comedic timing. Snappy one-liners and zings.

Trevor watches it all from a nearby rooftop. Robin up against a couple of goons who tried mugging some little old lady out waling her ankle biter of a dog.

Sound of his bo staff cracking against a jaw, the strangled bellow and sound of a grown man falling to his knees in pain. Stunned as he cradles what’s sure to be a fracture of some sort and that’s interesting, isn’t it, when Ryan had come down so hard on Trevor that one time.

Robin backpedals as the second thug thunders towards him, big and imposing and furious after seeing his friend go down.

Rolls out of the way of a booted foot aimed at his kneecap – flash and whirl of his cape – stylized shuriken flying out from behind it as he buys himself a little time, some space. Meaty sound of one of them embedding itself in the thug’s arm and a snarl coming from him like a wounded dog.

“You fucker!”

Trevor snorts, taps the barrel of his gun against his leg as Robin shoots the thug a look – offended, almost – and then he’s moving forward.

Bo snapping out as the thug raises his gun, blood dripping from his arm, and smacks it away like an afterthought. Follows up with another strike of his bo – glancing hit – and pursues the thug who’s the one trying to retreat now.

Snapping and snarling and hopelessly outclassed, he never sees the kick aimed at his jaw, too focused on the damn bo staff Robin uses as a distraction. Flash and spin, streetlights catching off the gleaming metal and Robin’s a vicious bastard too, it seems.

Stands over the thug for a long moment, and prods him to make sure he’s not feigning unconsciousness before he gets out the zip ties.

It would be easy, Trevor knows, to teach him a lesson right now.

Drop down from his vantage spot and drive the point home with his fists, heel of his boot. Wing the little bastard with a bullet from his gun. Ooh, or maybe he could use one of the knives Talia gifted him with as a parting gift he hasn’t had the chance to use just yet.

But.

It’s too soon.

Ryan doesn’t even know there’s a new player in town yet.

Just goes about business as usual, punching and kicking (occasionally gadgeting) the bad guys into groaning piles of bruised and battered and sending them back to Blackgate or Arkham as the situation warrants.

Goes off to play with the Justice League when there’s a major crisis every so often.

Baits the press with that running gag about being Batman – it’s appalling, really, how he still gets away with that – and thinks his little world here is safe.

Well.

Safe as it could be, given Gotham’s very nature.

Thinks he’s got it all under control, has thought up every possibly scenario and planned accordingly with all those contingency plans of his.

Paranoid as all hell and still, Trevor knows, still so damned blind.

“Next time,” Trevor says, tossing off a little salute to Gotham’s little songbird as he heads off to really get things rolling.

========

Black Mask is easy.

Smarter than most, sure, but when it comes down to it he’s still predictable.

Ego to him because he’s the Black Mask.

Everyone in Gotham knows who he is, what he does to those who make an enemy of him, and it’s made him...not quite complacent, but he’s certainly lost whatever edge got him where he is today.

Makes it easy for Trevor to disrupt his operations, swing his attention away from all his goals and ambitions and this new figure in the shiny metal helmet. (Helmet, hood, it’s all semantics, isn’t it?)

Has him focusing on Trevor and the way he’s dismantling everything he’s built up on the bones of others. (Bone and flesh and blood, human suffering and this dark spark Trevor gets now. Has buried deep in him too thanks to the Pit and what it gave him, curled in the back of his mind and whispering to him always.)

And Ryan? He’s just as easy.

Notices the way Black Mask is just so agitated these days, fending off attacks and so, so angry at this new figure looking to make an example of him and his.

Throwing money and every available body he has at Trevor to make him go away, and Ryan just has to stick his nose into things. Needs to know what’s going on to cause Black Mask’s little breakdown-in-progress.

Perfect.

========

“Look at you,” Trevor says, chuckles at the way Ryan’s glaring at him. “New suit?”

More heavily armored than the one he wore when it was Trevor at his side all those years ago.

Meaner looking.

Voices drift up to them, yelling and shouting and all sorts of commotion.

Ryan’s silent.

Still.

Stoic is the word that comes to mind.

Standing across the roof from Trevor in all his Battish glory, bit of a breeze playing with the hem of his cape. (Gotham is almost as dramatic as certain residents.)

All kinds of tech and gadgets on him because he’s the Batman, and that’s part of his shtick. Almost certainly recording their conversation to analyze once he gets back to that little clubhouse of his under the manor.

Trevor hums, nods his head because yes, yes, still the same stubborn bastard as always, Ryan.

Childhood trauma and far too much money, and anyone else would be dead by now if they’d tried the same thing as the idiot before him.

Traveling the world to train, hone his body and mind into this weapon to combat the sort of depraved monsters who left him an orphan.

Oh, he would never think of it like that.

Would insist it’s a noble endeavor he set off on all those years before, long before Trevor was even born. That he’s doing it to protect the people of Gotham, prevent the same from happening to them. (The dark knight the press and so many others refer to him as, and still so blind.)

Takes in orphans and urchins, gives them a home and a purpose.

A suit and a cape and utility belt with all the latest gadgets, and if they’re lucky, if they’re good, they get to live. If not...well.

You get things like Trevor, don’t you.

All twisted up inside, wrong in all the right ways. (Or perhaps it’s the other way around?)

However you want to look at it, you get something like Trevor, and when you put him back in a city like Gotham with people like Ryan and all his mistakes, it’s not going to be a pretty thing.

No, not pretty at all.

Trevor snorts, turning to look down at the burning warehouse below them as emergency crews scramble to contain the fire.

Someone’s screaming.

One of Black Mask’s men suffering from nasty third-degree burns on top of what Trevor did to him to get the answers he needed.

Ryan interfered before Trevor could put the poor bastard out of his misery, more’s the pity.

He’ll die slow now. Pain eased by whatever drugs they pump into him, but Trevor and Ryan both know he won’t make it through the night.

Thank God Ryan saved the man from a bullet to the head only to drag out his death longer than it needs to be.

(Such is mercy..)

“Good talk,” Trevor says, suddenly in no mood to deal with Ryan or his codes, his morals and ethics and goddamned high horse right now. “I’m sure we’ll be doing this again.”

He keeps his voice light, playful, lets the voice modulator do its job to add another layer of complication to things for Ryan, and pulls a small remote out of his jacket pocket.

Holds it up for Ryan to see, waggles it a little, thumb hovering over the big red button.

Watches as Ryan finally reacts, starts to move, but Trevor’s just that tiniest bit faster.

Presses the button and gone in the moment it takes Ryan to decide on an action, the small charges he set earlier going off further down the street.

Big flashy things meant as distractions because Trevor’s a monster, yes, but his grudge isn’t against Gotham’s emergency crews.

Still, Ryan doesn’t know that yet, and he goes for the bait.

Spends a split-second too long agonizing over whether to pursue Trevor before a secondary explosion goes off and the choice is made for him.

Noble endeavors and Duty, and Ryan’s still so predictable.

========

The thing that absolutely kills Trevor about all of this is how stupid Ryan is.

“You get what I mean, don’t you?”

Robin is watching Trevor like he thinks Trevor’s a lunatic.

He’s not wrong, so Trevor lets him have that one.

But really.

Ryan’s goes around playing the role of Ryan Haywood, richie-rich and possibly stupidest man alive just so no one will twig to the fact he’s also Batman.

Big scary asshole in a suit and cape and all his little gadgets and smart as he is, he’s so damn stupid.

“Joker’s still out there!” Trevor yells, and okay that, that is what’s at the heart of this. “That bastard is still out there killing people and what does Batman do about it?”

Fights him again and again and again, just to send him back to Arkham until the next time he breaks out to start the cycle over.

And it’s not just Joker, it’s every other asshole like him.

It never ends because Ryan is too blinded by all his ideals and morals, his ethics.

Privilege.

Joker is out there right now, some new twisted plot playing out while Ryan runs himself ragged trying to stop him. So, so stupid and look what Trevor found while Ryan’s attention is elsewhere?

Little (not so little) Robin all on his lonesome and easy pickings.

Trevor’s not angry at Ryan for not saving him from Joker in time.

No.

That’s not what this is about. It’s never been what it’s about. (Even if there’s some small part of him that wonders why. What he did wrong that Ryan didn’t save him when he kills himself for complete strangers night after night, but he knows, doesn’t he. Trevor was never enough, and that’s fine. It is.)

Ryan let the Joker live.

Put him back in Arkham and just went on like that bastard hadn’t taught him a valuable lesson by killing Trevor.

Went and got himself a new Robin, even.

Bright young man and potential to him Ryan’s sure to ruin before long.

Feisty.

Put up quite the fight when Trevor found him, but Trevor’s been at this longer. (Trained with assassins, and hadn’t that been an eye-opener.)

Plays dirtier than the Batman’s good little sidekick.

Fights mean and nasty, plays for keeps.

“We don’t kill,” Robin says, parrots Batman’s line as though Trevor’s never heard it before, like he doesn’t know.

Trevor laughs, but there’s nothing like amusement in it.

“Oh, I know all about that,” he says, because Ryan’s an idiot.

So here, Ryan, have a little refresher while you’re gallivanting about being a hero.

Robin’s all trussed up at the moment, and while Trevor knows it’s only a matter of time before he frees himself -

“Might want to rethink your career path,” Trevor says, and shoots him.

He sees Robin’s eyes widen in the moment before he fires, and it’s not personal this, not really.

It’s Ryan and his choices, the mistakes he never learns from. (Tough love, minus the love.)

Robin sags in his chains – because Gotham and its Drama, presentation - and Trevor goes over to check on him.

Purses his lips when he sees his suit did its job in stopping the bullet. The impact was a doozy this close, though, wasn’t it. Knocked him back, head cracking against the wall he’s bound to, put him out like a light. (Easy.)

Trevor pats his cheek, smiles to cover up the uneasiness he feels seeing a Robin like this, echoes of a dream or something along those lines.

(A living nightmare and a crowbar bearing down on him, Joker’s grating laughter and pain bleeding into everything.)

A perimeter alarm goes off, and Trevor glances over at the laptop he has set up. Cobbled together warning system to let him know Ryan finally noticed Robin had gone silent on him, came to investigate.

Watches Gotham’s hero miss every damn camera he placed in his haste and wants to laugh because lord knows Trevor always got an earful about that kind of mistake during his time as Robin.

“Oh, Ryan,” he sighs. “No gold star for you.”

Still.

Best not be around when Ryan makes it past all the traps and other fun things Trevor left out for him.

Let the bastard stew a little longer once he gets Robin back.

Wonder why the Red Hood bothered with any of this, why he didn’t just kill Robin while he had the chance. (Why, why, why, and no answers to any of it, not yet.)

Trevor shoots the laptop, lips stretching into a thin smile because Ryan’s going to have a hell of a time getting anything out of it now.

Not impossible, because he has all his gadgets and tech wizardry at his beck and call – has Oracle – but it’s going to cost him time. Effort. Have him working overtime to pull anything useful out of what’s on the hard drive when Trevor’s never been that stupid.

Leaving him bread crumbs that Ryan will have to work for if he wants to find out what the Red Hood’s planning.

“Good luck with that one, Ryan,” Trevor says as he turns to leave because it’s going to be one hell of a ride.