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anachronistic-falsehood · 11 months

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generation loss: it's not horror

a full review of genloss thus far. because fuck it i’m bored

So! Generation Loss, when Ranboo originally came up with the idea and talked about it publicly, was heavily implied to be some sort of analog horror series. He said, in multiple old streams, that he bought 90’s audio recorders and cameras in order to make it as authentic as possible. So, what exactly is the Generation Loss that we got?

Well, it's not horror, that's for sure. That's not to say it's objectively bad, however! I enjoyed it, to an extent, despite the bits that dragged on, the subpar improv acting, and the questionable writing choices. Ranboo, along with all of the other actors involved, have said that it is a horror series. Clearly, that was the intention. But none of it was scary. I know horror, and that wasn't it. "But Whiskey, it's psychological horror!" Okay. Where was the psychological horror? I get it, there are layers to it, and there are disturbing things when you pull them back (the green to red switch in episode 2, which implies that Charlie's outfit and the food he eats in episode 1 are also blood and gore instead of slime, which is a detail I did like), but overall... there's no real horror. The only times I felt something, like, truly got invested in the story and what was going on, was in two specific moments in episode 3: one, where Charlie was acting his heart out and yelling at Ranboo to hit the button, and two, the very end where Ranboo is begging to die. The rest of the show was relatively supbar to me. It's not horror, but if Genloss continues on the path it was taking in episode 3, it could definitely get there!

I'll talk about some details I did like first. I don't want to mercilessly attack the series and rip it to shreds, because there are good qualities in it that have a lot of potential, and ripping into things with pure hate on the mind rarely comes with good criticism. I will rag on it a bit, but I do want to focus on the potential of the series, because it clearly isn't over. Also I’m well aware that this was made by Ranboo and a bunch of his content creator friends and most of them aren’t professional actors so. I’ll cut them some slack

I have seen a lot of praise for episode 2 specifically. Not much for episode 1, understandably so, but I'll get into that later. Episodes 2 and 3 seem to be most people's favourites, and for good reason. Episode 2, as slow as it felt to watch through 2 hours of it, did have a lot of thought and detail put into it. The personas of the other streamers stuck in the trap, for one: Niki's emphasis on being "the nice one" as her best and only character trait, even as she's crying behind the scenes; Ethan’s slash text saying he’s unemployed, and being relatively unimportant and unnoticeable until someone else acknowledges him; Austin's splash text saying he's gay while he emphasizes that he has a wife and kids, which could either be a comment on how queer people are often made to hide their identities, or how someone's sexuality is often made the forefront of their public persona, etc. etc. Even their deaths, both Niki's and Ethan's being offscreen, were significant in playing into that symbolism! The dress-up bit dragged on a lot to me, but the fact that Ethan was the one who decided to start dressing up, put on a dress and a wig in some approximation of drag, and then was immediately killed off? And Ranboo, the "hero" only dressing himself up in a black jacket, like every single masculine protagonist in any action movie out there while still being controlled by Showfall? The queer themes of vague (very vague) gender fuckery are there. Ranboo being queer himself, it's hard to believe that the little queer bits would be a coincidence. There's a lot of filler (will touch on that later), but if you can parse through it, it is saying something. There's thought put into this, even if it's under a thick layer of ironic half assed comedy like a less articulate Dave Strider monologue.

Episode 3 was the best by far. Most of it was genuinely enjoyable, even if I did laugh at a couple of serious points that definitely weren't supposed to be funny (Ranboo stabbing someone was so funny to me, I'm sorry, I couldn't get over the >:[ "serious" face). The elements of horror did show themselves by the end, and laid down the foundation for a promising continuation of the series. The twist villain, Hetch, was introduced in the first one, and he was untrustworthy from the beginning, at least to me. It wasn’t a huge surprise when he suddenly switched up on Ranboo at the end, but it still got me a bit, which is good!! If you can guess the twist, or look back and see where the twist came from, you’ve done a good job setting it up! Also, The Truman Show-esque bow before the doorway was a good detail, and a great way to directly put it in your face that this is a series about escaping the narrative. The narrative is actively hurting these characters, and every moment they spend on camera is hell. It's about finding free will in a situation where it's hard to find any freedom at all (which, again, is another theme that can easily relate back to queerness). And of course, as soon as Ranboo bows and the curtain begins to close, Hetch drags him right back in, because there truly is no escaping the narrative in this world. Ranboo's last bid for freedom is to beg for death from the very audience they're being made to entertain, and they ultimately get it. That is his escape, his curtain call. He's gone from the narrative (supposedly; who knows what the future of Genloss holds?).

The point of saying all of this? So you know that my criticism comes from a good place. I can't say I liked watching Genloss, but I can't say I disliked it. Watching it was a bit of a drag, especially in the first and second episodes, but theorizing about something that clearly was meant to be theorized about is very fun :3

Let’s talk about my gripes with episode 1. I saw one post that described Genloss as “a comedy horror with no comedy or horror” and i have to agree. The comedy, most of the time, didn't land. A few jokes got me, but for the most part, the improv bits were... bad. They were bad. The cooking bit in the first episode went on way too long. I understand there were probably a lot of cool secrets hidden in there, but come on. It went on for, what, half an hour? To paraphrase one of my mutuals, "that's like 26 minutes after it stopped being funny." While watching ep 1, I stopped paying attention for about ten minutes to type out a list of horror series I enjoy that actually have horror in them, and all I missed was a boss fight sequence that was STILL going on by the time I finished. And the acting, in all honesty, was bad. It felt stilted and awkward and none of the characters held my attention long enough to get me invested in them. There is so much filler, even though we were told that the series would have little to none. Episode 1 was like watching a middle school project with a weirdly large budget.

Let's move on to my issues with episode 2.

Episode 2, as I've stated, had its strengths. The underlying themes and details were there, and it was easier to get invested long enough to want to peel back the bullshit to take a better look at what lies underneath. Some of the humour actually landed for me (although still not a lot). I'm not going to complain about the sets or the makeup and costuming, because I have little to no expertise in those fields, but I can speak on the writing. It was better than the first one. I can say that with confidence. Still, many parts of it were just too long. The Saw trap carousel bit dragged, as did the Mouse Trap bit, and the dress-up bit—you get the picture. There was still quite a bit of filler, even more so than the first one, considering its length, which is frustrating because, again, we were told there wouldn’t be much at all. I'm also no professional actor, but although I’m well aware this was made by a bunch of inexperienced content creators, the acting definitely left something to be desired. If Austin Show puts his whole pussy into a performance, then theoretically, it shouldn't overshadow the main character. It shouldn't make me root for this side character who's clearly going to die. But it did! I wanted Austin to live more than I wanted Ranboo to live, because his character had something. And I get it, Ranboo was being mind controlled, he's going to act a little spacey and clueless. But by the end of episode 2, I hadn't felt any personal connection to Ranboo's character at all. What reason did I have to want this guy to be our final girl in the movie who beats the bad guy and lives to tell the tale? The writing and acting for Ranboo’s character both kind of sucked overall. I felt nothing towards this guy. Absolute jack shit.

Let's talk episode 3. Arguably the best one out of the three, but not without its flaws. Hetch’s voice acting just sounded like any generic white boy streamer out there. It was very much "this is my first acting role so I'm going to talk how I normally do but a bit more exaggerated in hopes that it comes across as evil." Not very convincing. Also, the backrooms-esque TV-head monster was uninspired and unoriginal at best, and at worst, a complete wrench in the barebones plot there was. Why is there a monster here? What is it doing? Who made it? Why is it sentient? Why is it running free around this abandoned empty mall? It just felt like a complete cop out to have an "ooooh scary monster!!" in a lame attempt to have some semblance of real horror.

But, despite all of that, I genuinely enjoyed most of episode 3. Charlie's acting really got to shine when he was finally taken out of the role of the funny man and put into a scene that required some serious acting. He actually made me feel something. He's genuinely an amazing actor. Like, what the hell. Get this man an Oscar!!! The tension that was missing from the other two was actually present here, especially in the chase scenes. The stakes felt higher, and in the last scene, Ranboo’s acting really took off. It was fucking amazing. You could feel his desperation. Put this guy in more life or death situations! I wanna watch them scream for their life!!! (Also, the crucifixion imagery in that scene? Very well done. mmmmm I love me some good religious symbolism)

So if Genloss isn’t horror (yet), what is it? It’s not a comedy. It’s not action. The only genre I can think of that it might fit into is a mystery hidden under a thick guise of unfunny sitcom-adjacent improv humour. There are things to look for and find out on your own, but there are five layers of bullshit to wade through before you can get to anything of substance.

I think my biggest gripe about Genloss is that it’s clearly made for Ranboo fans. Despite being advertised in Times Square, this is mostly made to be watched and enjoyed by people who already know and care about who he is. They will go into Genloss with a positive outlook on the series before even watching it, knowing beforehand that it’s meant to be some sort of mystery, with the intention of theorizing about it and praising it afterwards. If you went up to a horror fan who doesn’t know who Ranboo is and has never heard him speak about Genloss before, and told them that this series was a horror, they would watch it and think “in what universe does this qualify as a horror?” Your average horror fan would watch Genloss and be confused as to why it’s apparently considered to be a horror series. The first episode is its weakest point. Anyone outside of Ranboo’s fan circle who watches it wouldn’t know that it’s meant to be a mystery or a horror. They would sit through an hour of bad improv and come out the other side confused, and probably not interested enough to watch the second one. As I said in another post, watching Genloss is like watching a hurdle race where the racer trips right out of the blocks, falls over every single hurdle along the way except for the last couple, and sprints through the finish line while tripping and falling right after. The first episode is even worse when you’ve watched the last one, because you can see the potential the series fails to live up to in the very beginning.

BUT! But but but! It still has potential. The ending of episode 3 was honestly really good, at least in comparison to the rest of the series. If Ranboo decides to continue taking the series in the direction that episode 3 went in, it could be something good. My expectations are very low, but my hopes are high. I think they can genuinely make something out of Genloss, maybe not quite on par with most other horror series, but they could get there if they try. It just depends on where Ranboo and their team take it from here.

When Generation 2 comes out, I’ll probably watch that too. The ending intrigued me! Idk what the fate of gl!Ranboo is, whether he’s actually dead or not, what happens to the others, if Hetch and Showfall have bigger plans for Ranboo, etc etc. I’ll admit it!! I’m curious!!! I don’t know if Generation Loss as it is now was worth all the hype and buildup, but maybe eventually it will be.

#whiskeys word soup #genloss crit #generation loss #ranboo #it was. something!! that’s for sure!!!#basically: i’m very neutral on genloss. i’m very intrigued by the ending but it wasn’t worth sitting through all the filler #i’m lookin on the positives more than i was bc i genuinely wanna give it the benefit of the doubt and give generation 2 a chance

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jmsebastian · 3 years

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Vampire Hunter D’s Lone Video Game Adaptation

When people talk about PlayStation era 3D games being hard to go back to, Vampire Hunter D is the one I most often think about. Something of an alternate timeline version of the Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust animated film, the game has you play as the vampire hunter, himself. Throughout the adventure, you explore the castle Chaythe to rescue a woman, Charlotte, from having been kidnapped by the vampire lord, Meier Link. I say it’s an alternate history because while the general plotting of the film (itself an adaptation of the third novel in Hideyuki Kikuchi’s series), the events of the game take place entirely within Chaythe, whereas only the last act of the film is set there.

The decision to condense the story to all take place within the castle is a brilliant move and makes for an interesting and thematically consistent setting. You work your way from room to room, finding items and solving puzzles to open up more of the castle to explore. All the while you must slay or evade enemies that stand in your path and battle the occasional boss. If any of this sounds familiar, it should. It’s the formula for the classic survival series, Resident Evil.

Vampire Hunter D does its best to disguise itself as a survival horror game. It has pretty much all the staples. There’s the spooky mansion setting, the keys and puzzles, the backtracking through areas to open previously inaccessible locations. There are pre-rendered backgrounds and static camera angles. Last and for many, definitely least, there are tank controls.

My feeling is that tank controls are perfectly fine for survival horror games where the player has no control over the camera. It makes sense that your directional movement would be absolute rather than depend upon the view of whatever area you happen to be in. The drawback, of course, is that precision movement is difficult and you often move a bit slower because it takes time for your character to turn to face whatever direction you want to go.

Vampire Hunter D is not a survival horror game. It’s an action adventure game. It’s an action adventure game with platforming, fast paced melee combat, and plenty of ways to keep yourself fighting fit in the form of consumable items. None of these things are made easier by way of tank controls and they are, by far, the biggest barrier to entry for players who might have otherwise really taken to the game. All it takes is getting stuck against a wall while being wailed on by an enemy or missing a jump due to a poor camera angle to sour the overall experience.

The game seems to be aware of just how inappropriate tank controls were as well, as other aspects of the game seem to exist purely to compensate for the movement. The platforming I mentioned earlier rarely has you leaping over dangerous gaps. Even the instances that do only set you back a few seconds or reset the current room with no penalty to your health points. Really, most of the time you just need to hop onto a box or a knee high ledge, which kind of makes you wonder why they bothered including it.

Tank controls really have their limitations in the combat. To compensate, by default, you lock onto the nearest enemy when you draw your sword. This alters your movement a bit as pressing left or right will have you circle around your target in that direction rather than having you turn your body to face that direction. This works fairly well in rooms that provide good visibility and aren’t too cramped, but can be pretty useless in tight hallways or if you're trying to work around more than one enemy at a time. Again, the developers at Victor Entertainment Software seem to have been aware of these limitations and generally limit the places where you face multiple enemies to specific sections of the game, many of which you can just run past if you need to. It’s no surprise that the bosses are all fought in more open rooms where you have ample room to run around, side step, and circle around while locked on.

It’s a shame that tank controls were what we were given. I understand why it was designed the way it was, but if any game could have been improved by having more standard 3D movement enabled, it would be this one. Perhaps most amusing is that there is analog support, but like Resident Evil, all it really does is map the tank controls to the analog stick rather than give you true freedom of movement we’ve become accustomed to over time. I have plenty of complaints about the movement in Devil May Cry, but something like that would have been a huge improvement over what ended up in the game.

While the movement controls may be frustrating during combat, the mechanics around combat are actually where Vampire Hunter D shines the most and why I think it’s a game worth exploring despite its shortcomings. Being half vampire, D’s prowess depends upon having a steady supply of blood. That vampire power is represented by the VP bar under your HP.. Overtime, your VP depletes and causes your attack power to drop and your magical abilities to weaken. You can recover VP in two ways: consume blood capsules that you find throughout the castle or be splashed with the blood of enemies you strike with your sword.

I love this idea because it provides incentive to engage in combat when you would otherwise be tempted to just run past as many enemies as possible. If you avoid fighting, you have to consume blood capsules. While they aren’t exactly in short supply on the normal difficulty, they are best served for boss fights or other tough enemies so that you can recover some health and your VP and deal as much damage as possible.

It’s not as balanced as it really should be, unfortunately. Your VP drains at a pretty slow rate, but it’s also hard to get back up to a high level through the blood splashes alone. It would have been interesting to have the meter drain more quickly, but also refill more quickly, adding a bit of urgency to the game and really encouraging you to take down any monsters you come across.

A similar mechanic is used for D’s magic abilities, which are made possible thanks to the parasite that lives within his left hand. There is an option to heal, an attack based magic that surrounds enemies and drains them of health, and the ability to absorb the souls of enemies. That soul absorption replenishes your magic meter, so while you want to refill your VP with sword strikes, you also want to make sure you inhale as many enemies into Left Hand as possible as well.

Again, this is a mechanic designed specifically to encourage killing the monsters in the castle and it’s a perfectly reasonable goal for an action game. Unfortunately, it has a bit of an opposite effect as absorbing enemies is not a guarantee and you’re likely to take damage when attempting it since you need to be in close proximity for it to work. If you try it and you can’t absorb one, you’ll almost certainly take a hit that would have otherwise been avoidable. It’s a shame the VP and magic replenishing systems weren’t all that complementary as the intent behind them really has a lot of merit and offers a glimpse at what could have been complex and satisfying combat mechanics.

If you know what you’re doing, Vampire Hunter D is a fairly short game with a fair bit of replay value, as there are three endings you can achieve depending on a handful of choices you can make. I find the story to be one of the more compelling things about the game. It’s told through standard in-engine cutscenes and they’re acted fairly well (several of the actors from Bloodlust reprise their roles). Your enjoyment of that probably largely depends on whether or not you’re already a fan of the Vampire Hunter D source material or your feelings on sci-fi action horror in general, but there’s a lot to like about it.

I feel a bit bad for those who just aren’t able to enjoy older games due to feeling archaic. I can’t really defend the issues Vampire Hunter D has, as there are legitimate limitations and design choices that make the game frustrating at times. However, I also don’t want it to be dismissed as an old game not worth playing. You can tell just how much the people who made it really seemed to care about making it true to the Vampire Hunter D series. It’s about as faithful a video game adaptation as could be and one well worth spending some time with.

#vampire hunter d #sony playstation #resident evil #survival horror #majesco

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inactiive-shit · 5 years

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Supernova

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Title: Supernova

Prompt: trick-or-treat

Warnings: none, as far as I can tell

Pairing: Pre-romantic Analogical, sibling Prinxiety, sibling Logicality

Words: 3,508 (this got away from me.)

@sanderssidescelebrations Here we are, day three already! We’re all suffering but I wrote fluff because it just be that way sometimes. Enjoy!

Virgil didn’t exactly have ‘friends’. He didn’t care particularly about it, didn’t really think he needed them to be happy when he had his ten year old brother and his dad. That being said, he had definitely been planning on watching horror movies the whole night and into the next morning in honor of the best holiday ever: Halloween. He even had his favorites already set up (Nightmare Before Christmas, The Corpse Bride, and Coraline among others.) Besides all that, he was sixteen and didn’t feel like being the kid who got yelled at by the neighbors because he was ‘too old’ to go trick-or-treating. So he had planned to watch movies until he passed out and probably be scared to go in the bathroom for a month after.

But plans change, and often with very little warning.

Dad had been so sick that morning that he hadn’t even gone to work. So sick, in fact, that he had asked Virgil to take Roman to school for him because he didn’t think he should be driving with the migraine he had. And of course Virgil had done it, hadn’t even questioned it. He had picked up other chores once he got home, too, so that Dad wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Though he played the part of the uncaring, leather-jacket-and-dark-sunglasses badass to the outside world, things were different in their little bubble. Virgil knew his Dad was just as prone to over-thinking and incessant worry as he was. (It had to come from somewhere, right?)

But he hadn’t even thought about trick-or-treating. Their Dad loved taking them, loved getting dressed up and taking an obnoxious amount of pictures just as much as Roman loved showing off his costumes and Virgil had loved getting candy. So when Dad asked him to do it last minute, practically begging, voice hoarse and eyes barely open, Virgil had just shoved a cup of tea into his hands, kissed his movies goodbye, and got dressed.

And that’s how now, at five fifty-nine p.m., one minute before Halloween was officially underway, Virgil was standing in front of the house in a Jack Skellington costume he’d outgrown two years ago next to Roman, dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. They both smiled as Dad took pictures, and Virgil tried not to wince in sympathy when Dad started to look too unsteady on his feet.

“Alright, boys. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t let you do.” He ruffled Roman’s hair and pulled Virgil into a hug. “Thank you for taking him out, Virge. It means a lot,” Dad whispered, voice devoid of his regular smart-ass tone both of his sons had inherited. “And you did really good on Roman’s make-up.”

“Course,” Virgil said. He pulled away and snagged Roman’s hand. “What time do we have to be back by?”

“It ends at eight, so no later than eight thirty.” He pushed his sunglasses up on his head and gave them both a piercing, undoubtedly painful stare. Virgil nodded and Roman pouted. “Good. I love you two. Now get out of here.” Roman darted in for one last hug and then took off down the street. Virgil trailed him, holding both their pillowcases. Dad had said Virgil should do it too and to hell with anyone who complained about it, but was it really worth ruining Roman’s Halloween to cause a scene with some cranky old lady? Virgil figured it wasn’t.

There was already a stream of kids heading up to the first house, and it was looking like some of them had started early. Some other chaperones stood on the sidewalk by Virgil as he passed Roman his bag and let him head up to the door. Roman blended seamlessly into the hoard and Virgil sighed. It made him anxious that he couldn’t see Roman when he was supposed to be watching him, though he knew Roman wouldn’t run off without him. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry about it.

Some of the other parents held spare bags in their hands, and Virgil looked contemplatively at them. Why did they have extra bags? What was the point of that?

“Virge! Look! I got a bunch of Hershey kisses!” Roman didn’t even pause long enough to let Virgil see, just grabbed his hand and went for the next house. He babbled about the other kids costumes and how cool some of them were and must have waved at a minimum of twelve other kids by the time he waltzed up to the next house.

Virgil tried not to look like he was moping, but he must have been doing a pretty bad job because someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, an apology on his lips, and stopped dead. Standing behind him was the one person at school that Virgil actively regretted that he didn’t talk to: Logan Abbott. He was brash and loud and always fought back against unfair rules and had pretty much every quality Virgil valued in a person. He also managed to make a tie look hot, and it was entirely possible that Virgil wanted to do more than talk to Logan. Though he was always wearing professional clothing at school, he was currently wearing a white lab coat and had all sorts of medical props hanging off it. He was about three inches shorter than Virgil normally, but he must have been wearing platform shoes of some kind because right now Virgil was definitely looking up to see his eyes.

“Salutations, Virgil,” he said. Virgil nodded mutely, just staring. How was he supposed to talk to a person he liked as a person? “Are you trick-or-treating or have you come out on the request of your parents?”

“I came out years ago,” Virgil said, and yeah it was true but why say it. Oh, god, Virgil was absolutely too gay to deal with this. He couldn’t have his first one-on-one interaction with Logan him just being gay, oh god, what if Logan was weirded out by that? Virgil really just needed to quit while he was behind.

“I as well,” Logan said, smirking slightly and why couldn’t he just say ‘me too’ like a normal person? What was with this ‘I as well’ bullshit like he was smart, he needed to stop being smart because Virgil definitely might do something stupid if he kept doing it. “Though I meant to ask if you are watching a sibling.”

Wait. ‘I as well’ meant Logan was gay-er, well, probably meant Logan was gay and Virgil was gay as fuck so maybe-

“Uh, yeah. My brother’s only ten, can’t go by himself yet.” If Virgil could hold onto his language processing skills, maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster. And stop thinking about being gay with Logan, though that was another matter altogether.

“My brother’s ten, too,” Logan said. “I have to take him because our parents tend to work through dinner.” They lapsed into silence, and Virgil really had to wonder what was taking Roman so long. If he hurried up, there was a slight possibility that Virgil could make it out of this without being too weird.

“Virgil!” Roman cried right on que, barreling into Virgil’s legs. “I found Patton!” Indeed, there was another ten year old trailing Roman across the yard.

“Lolo!” the other child, presumably Patton, yelled. He grabbed Logan’s hand and began swinging it back and forth. “It’s Roro!” He giggled and mock-whispered to Roman, “You rhyme.”

“I’m very glad you found one of your friends, Patton,” Logan said. He smiled kindly at Roman and Virgil wanted to sink into the ground with how nice that was. “Hello. I am Logan, Patton’s older brother.”

“I’m Roman! Patton’s my best friend in the whole world.” Roman pointed at Virgil. “This is my brother Virgil. Are you dating him? You’re standing really close.”

“Roman,” Virgil hissed, and he was suddenly glad he’d decided to paint his face. Logan couldn’t see the blush underneath that thick layer of applied death.

“No, I am not currently dating your brother. We know each other from school.” Currently? What the fuck was currently about? Were they going to dating? Where was that distinction coming from? Why did he say that? CURRENTLY?

“You’re not supposed to just stay stuff like that,” Virgil said.

Roman shrugged. “Dad doesn’t care.”

“That’s because Dad doesn’t have a filter either,” he muttered. Logan snorted next to him and Virgil really couldn’t help staring with how cute that noise had been. How was one person allowed to be so adorable?

“Which way are you heading?” Logan asked. Virgil motioned up the street. “Us too,” he said and turned so they could walk together. Virgil’s eyes widened. Oh, gods above, they were walking together now. What was he supposed to do with that? Was he supposed to do anything? Were they going to be doing this all night?

“C’mon, Ro, this way,” Virgil said as Roman started lagging behind to talk to Patton. He galloped to catch up, and then passed Virgil and Logan yelling, “That’s Captain Jack Sparrow to you!” Patton started to run up the yard after him, but then paused.

“Lo, weren’t we already at this house?” Patton asked.

“No, Patton, we weren’t. Go catch up with Roman,” Logan urged him and shoved Patton’s shoulder a little. Patton took off running, but Logan turned red and didn’t look at Virgil. If they had come from this way, why would Logan tell Virgil he was coming this way? Unless, he wanted to come with Virgil, but that was ridiculous because they had never really spoken in class and he didn’t know anything about him. It was actually much more likely that he was coming so Patton could stay with Roman, but then why hadn’t he told Patton when he made that decision? Unless he didn’t want Patton to know, but why wouldn’t he? Nothing was making sense anymore.

“Your costume looks nice. What are you dressed up as?” Logan asked, blush still faintly on his cheeks as they waited on the sidewalk.

“Jack Skellington,” Virgil said. “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“I know all of those words, but not in that order,” Logan said. Virgil stared, open-mouthed.

“You’ve never seen Nightmare Before Christmas?” he asked. Logan shook his head curiously. “It’s-it’s amazing, you have to watch. I can’t be seen associating with someone who’s never seen Nightmare Before Christmas before.”

“Then you’ll have to show it to me. I certainly wouldn’t want to tarnish your reputation,” Logan quipped. Virgil laughed.

“What about you, glasses? What are you dressed up as?”

Logan groaned. “Dr. Frankenstein, though I have come to see the error in my ways. Nobody knows who he is; they all think Frankenstein is the monster.”

Virgil nodded sagely. “You definitely can’t just expect average people to know things about the classics. They’re not all monsterfuckers.” Logan’s laugh boomed out unexpectedly and Virgil startled, then stared. If he got any gayer tonight, he wasn’t going to make it. Roman would have to venture home without him. Dad would have come out of the house, fever-ridden and all, and look for his body because Logan kept being cuter than was physically possible or acceptable and it was going to kill him.

“Well, I suppose you’re right,” Logan wheezed. They followed Roman and Patton to the next house down, and Virgil allowed Logan to catch his breath. It really hadn’t been that funny, but he’d like to cause whatever just happened to happen again regardless.

“Do you not go to the houses with your brother?” Logan asked.

“Nah,” Virgil said. “I prefer not to get yelled at by strangers because I’m too old for Halloween.”

“Fair enough,” Logan ceded, “but most people in this neighborhood are not so judgemental that you have to worry about it. Also,” he added, voice low and conspiratorial, “I have figured out the algorithm for obtaining the optimal amount of candy.”

“Oh, really?” Virgil asked, intrigued despite himself. “You managed to apply math to Halloween?”

Logan nodded confidently. “I also go up to the doors for the first half of the night. After that, I allow Patton to dump his candy into my bag every few houses so that his bag is empty. It makes him more likely to get more candy from the following houses. The adults are inclined to believe that he was late getting out because of a tardy parent or uncooperative older sibling. They feel bad for him.”

“Isn’t that a lot like stealing? Or lying?” Virgil asked.

“They give it over willingly enough, though I prefer to think of it as a creative solution to not being able to afford candy other times of the year anyway,” Logan said, and Virgil couldn’t fault him there. His family wasn’t quite well-off enough to buy a lot of sweets outside special occasions either, so Halloween held them through to Christmas when extended family started sending in cards and money.

“Smart,” Virgil said. Logan preened and smiled, near blinding and yeah, Virgil was so, so gay. He was going to die if Logan kept being this cute.

“I know, but thank you nonetheless.” Virgil choked on a laugh, and they tracked Roman and Patton to the next house.

“Shall we?” Logan asked, motioning up the driveway. Virgil nodded.

“We shall.” They went up to doors with their siblings for the next half hour, and somehow, nobody called them out. Virgil got a few stink-eyes, but he also got candy so it was really sort of like being paid to piss people off. By enjoying himself. It was awesome. He definitely owed Logan for introducing him to the wonders of Halloween as a teenager.

Logan caught his arm as they came up to the next house. “Have Roman dump his candy into your bag and let him go up alone.” Logan had Patton do the same. Logan didn’t let go of Virgil’s arm, and Virgil tried to have coherent thoughts past that, but it really wasn’t happening. Logan was right here, talking to him, touching him, voluntarily spending time with him.

When the Roman and Patton came back, they both reported that they had been given extra candy by the sympathetic woman manning the candy bowl.

“See?” Logan said, smirking down at Virgil. “Pretty effective.” Virgil grinned back and shrugged.

“Pretty genius,” he agreed.

“Very pretty,” Logan said, and his face began glowing red. “Y-you, I mean. Not me.”

“You are, too,” Virgil said.

“I-oh.” Logan seemed at a loss for words.

“Thank you, though,” Virgil continued. “It’s not everyday someone as cute as you wants to compliment me.” Where this other Virgil was coming from, Virgil didn’t know. He had never used words to do something like this before, it was crazy-talk. He wasn’t a confident, flirty person!

“Well, I, uhm.” Logan stopped and took a breath. “They should. You are a very attractive person, Virgil.” It was Virgil’s turn to blush wildly.

“C’mon, nerd,” he said. “They’re getting away from us.” Virgil didn’t say anything else, and he also didn’t pull away when Logan’s hand dropped from his arm to his own hand and held it. Virgil squeezed once, a barely there pressure on Logan’s skin, and then they both released.

Virgil was, completely and totally, without question, going to lose it.

They kept talking and walking through the neighborhood, but as they approached the last few houses Virgil couldn’t help but feel like something was slipping away from him. So as soon as there was a lull in conversation, he blurted, “Where do you live?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Virgil refused to admit defeat and drop eye-contact even if it felt physically painful at this point. “Right down there, on Sycamore.” Logan jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s not too far out of our way, and we don’t have to be home immediately. We can walk you. I mean, I’m sure Roman wants some more time with Patton, and it wouldn’t be a big deal or anything and-” Virgil forced himself to shut up. He steadied his brain before he opened his mouth again. “I don’t really want to quit talking to you quite so soon. If you want.”

A smile bloomed over Logan’s face, slowly at first and then so large he was practically radiating happiness. “I do want,” he said softly and Virgil almost melted. “I really, really do.”

“I’m glad,” Virgil said. “It would have been awkward if you didn’t.” Logan laughed.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and that would be the absolute worst outcome.”

“Virgil!” Roman screamed and ran face-first into an unprepared Virgil, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Logan coughed over a laugh and caught Patton when he attempted the same maneuver.

“Ro, kid,” Virgil groaned, “you really have to give me some warning when you do things like that.”

“I yelled your name! What more warning do you need?” Roman demanded petulantly, laying on Virgil’s legs.

“He has a point,” Logan added, face alight with mischief. Patton wriggled in his arms gleefully. “He did warn you.”

“You,” Virgil said, pointing, “are going to pay for that.” Logan scoffed and shook his head. Virgil shoved himself up to a sitting position and let Roman roll of his legs. “You’re going to get grass stains on your costume if you keep doing that.” Roman immediately popped up off the ground and took a few steps back.

“Logan!” he yelled, and then launched himself through the air like some sort of projectile. Virgil watched in slow-motion as Logan, already unbalanced from holding Patton, got his legs taken out from under him and crashed to the ground. Virgil was happy to note the first sound he heard following the tragedy was twin giggling, and then Logan’s groaning. Nobody had died.

“Told you you’d pay,” he said, doing his best not to laugh.

“Yeah,” Logan muttered, flat on his back. “I really did.”

“Ten year olds,” Virgil said, standing to scoop Roman off of Logan’s legs. He monkey-ed around Virgil until he was firmly attached to his back.

“Ten year olds,” Logan agreed, sounding equally aggrieved. Virgil offered him a hand and pulled him up. “I believe I will have bruises to remember this night by.”

“At least you won’t forget it,” Virgil said. Logan huffed a laugh. Together they set off for Logan’s house. Mercifully, Patton didn’t feel the need to sabotage the walk, and Roman was too set on singing as many Disney songs as he could, so they made it all the way back without another incident. Roman jumped down at the gate to give Patton a hug, and Virgil looked to Logan.

“So, I guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” Logan suggested. Virgil got the visceral feeling he was about to lose something important again, so instead of words he reached out and grabbed Logan’s coat and yanked him into a kiss. There was a moment of terrifying inaction, in which Virgil thought he had majorly fucked up, but then Logan moved closer and it was fine and it was good and Virgil could not have fucked this up if he’d tried.

They finally parted, Virgil too dazed to really think past what had just happened and Logan looking at Virgil with an expression he’d never seen before, and Roman said, “I thought you weren’t dating.”

“We-we aren’t,” Logan said, eyes stuck on Virgil. Then he dug through his pockets and pulled out a paper and pen and jotted something down. “But if you text me tomorrow, we can work on fixing that?” He extended the paper and it took Virgil approximately three seconds to comprehend what was happening. Then he was nodding vigorously and holding the paper like it was a check for a billion dollars.

“Yes, yeah. Yeah. I will. Text you. Text you so we can do-something. Something.” He knew he was bright red under the make up, and there was a smear of face paint on Logan’s lips, and he suddenly felt a lot like a supernova in the best way possible and not at all like he was losing anything.

“See you tomorrow,” Logan said again.

“Tomorrow,” Virgil echoed, smiling. Logan smiled back, and Virgil waited by the gate until Logan and Patton got into their house. He waved one last time before the door shut, and then he took Roman’s hand and started home.

“You like him,” Roman said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m telling Dad on you,” Roman said. “You kissed him. That’s nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Virgil shot back.

“Nuh-uh,” Roman said. “I only hugged Patton. I didn’t kiss him. You’re nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Virgil said again.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too,” Virgil said. He smiled as Roman kept it going, and really, if the price he paid to be with Logan, to talk with Logan, to know Logan was annoying his brother, well that wasn’t much of an ask at all.

97 notes · View notes

nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

👏Bob👏Yatta👏Fanfiction👏continuation👏PleASe👏

Zen and the Art of Hovercycle Maintenance, Part 3

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

—-

Ashe was sitting across from him, hat off, her white hair taking on a slight yellowish tint in the glaring light of the workroom. She looked smaller with the hat off, but sharper somehow, like a blade unsheathed. She sat across from him, leaned back in her seat slowly turning one of Zen’s orbs of destruction over in her hand. Bars and Bob loomed in the corner, and Zenyatta heard a sneeze to his left, moved to turn his head, but found he couldn’t. All motor functions shut down again, he thought.

“Way to ruin the moment, idiot,” muttered a voice to Zen’s right.

“Wasn’t my fault!” said the source of the sneeze.

“Both of you shut up–” said a voice behind Zen.

“Boys,” Ashe spoke simply and the three voices flanking Zen instantly silenced.

“Sorry boss,” they all spoke in unison. Ashe gave a nod of acknowledgement before fixing her red eyes on Zenyatta.

“Care telling me what you’re doing working with Jesse McCree?” She

“Can I ask what will happen if I don’t tell you?” asked Zenyatta.

“You can,” said Ashe, “You ain’t gonna like it.”

Stall, thought Zenyatta, You know McCree and the others are looking for you. Just stall.

“What will happen?” asked Zenyatta.

“We still find out,” said Bars, “We shut you down, dismantle your head, sort through your visual data from the past 36 hours a handful of terabytes at a time. We put everything back, put you back together, and wake you back up, of course, but everyone says it feels like everything in their head’s been moved an inch to the left.”

“You would do that to another Omnic?” said Zenyatta.

“I’ve done it to other Omnics,” said Bars, leaning in.

Zenyatta studied Bars’ face for a moment, “…one of those eyes isn’t yours, is it?” said Zenyatta.

“It’s mine now,” said Bars with a shrug. Horror flickered across the lights in Zenyatta’s forehead and Bars just stood up to his full height, “It’s all parts, Zen. That’s all it is.”

“How can you just…” Zenyatta trailed off.

“How many Null Sector units you see roving around here?” said Bars, folding his arms.

“…none?” said Zenyatta, “But they only target population centers–”

“You know how much prime solar power real estate is in these deserts? Enough to make a new Omnium,” said Bars, stepping forward, “But because there’re no population centers, you don’t see the US government giving a shit about it.”

“I told you,” said Ashe, leaning forward, “I’m the law around here.”

“You are a weapons trafficker, a bully, and a thief,” said Zenyatta.

Bob suddenly loomed forward, insulted on Ashe’s behalf, but Ashe held up a hand and Bob stilled. He signed something furiously but Ashe only gave him a short glance before saying, “It’s fine, Bob,” before turning back to Zen. “And you’re claiming moral high ground on account of, what, working with Jesse McCree? You come into my territory blowing shit up and you want to act like you didn’t throw a rock at a hornets nest?” said Ashe.

“Whatever personal issues you have with McCree–” Zenyatta started.

“Don’t,” said Ashe, “Tell me what you and McCree were doing out here.”

Bars was already looking over a tray laden with screwdrivers of various sizes. He turned on an acetylene torch to make sure it worked.

“Jesse McCree is with Overwatch,” said Zenyatta, and then he added, “I–I am with Overwatch. The new Overwatch.”

It felt strange saying it without Genji around. He and Genji had decided that Overwatch was the best means to stop the rising conflicts between human and Omnic in the world, but without Genji there, any connection Zenyatta felt to Overwatch was tenuous at best. Zenyatta had always felt like the one guiding Genji, but now, alone in a grubby little garage in the middle of nowhere on Route 66, Zenyatta felt like he had just wandered after Genji into this whole mess.

“Go on,” said Ashe as Bars examined a screwdriver.

“We were stopping a shipment of explosives,” Zenyatta spoke quickly, “Not yours. They were from Talon. The plan was to safely drop them off with the authorities at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, when we were intercepted by the Sidewinders. There was a… miscommunication, on my team’s end, and rather than let the explosives fall into the wrong hands, we detonated them. I was separated from my team in the blast.”

“…you were caught in an explosion… because of a miscommunication…” Ashe repeated slowly.

I was caught in an explosion because I was put on a team with someone who doesn’t care if omnics live or die, thought Zenyatta before answering, “Yes. A miscommunication.”

“Well if McCree was on that mission, that doesn’t surprise me. Shit seems to have a magnetic attraction to fans when he’s around. Let me guess: McCree’s here because he’s ‘an expert on the area,’” said Ashe.

“You need to put me on this mission. I’m an expert on the area,” Zenyatta could clearly hear McCree’s voice in his memory.

“…yes,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe huffed incredulously. “I’d call him a son of a bitch but truth be told I have nothing but respect for any woman who spent that many years looking after his sorry ass without strangling him,” she stood up from her chair, now tossing the orb of destruction up and down in her hand and walking thoughtfully around the room, “That was the only reason you were here?” she said, looking back at Zenyatta, “Overwatch has no intention on stepping in on any of Deadlock’s operations?”

“Deadlock… isn’t as high a priority as Talon or Null Sector,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe chuckled and the triplets behind Zenyatta forced nervous laugh along with her. “’Not a high priority,’ he says,” said Ashe, “Oh, but once you take care of Null Sector and Talon, then petty criminals like us should be quaking in our boots,” she walked over to a worktable where her black hat was resting and fitted it back on, adjusting it in her reflection in the glass of a cracked analog television tucked in the corner, “Is that what you’re gonna do after you save the world? Do what the old Overwatch did after the Crisis and just start policing the world over again?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Zenyatta. He certainly didn’t see himself being an enforcer like that.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Ashe, looking at him with something almost like pity, “So… how is the fight going?”

“Excuse me?” said Zenyatta.

“The fight. The big damn heroic-ass fight,” said Ashe, “How’s it going?”

“I… would not be able to tell you,” said Zenyatta.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” said Ashe, “But what do you think of it? Is it getting any easier? You got ‘em on the ropes?”

Zenyatta was silent at this.

“Figured,” She gave a glance to the orb in her hand, “You don’t exactly strike me as the mercenary type… what are you doing with them?”

“I heal and advise,” said Zenyatta. How often do they listen though? a bitter voice in his head spoke up, made sharper by his own sense of helplessness and isolation, Winston, Jack, and Ana listen to Doctor Ziegler before they listen to me because they actually worked with her. Lúcio is friendly, but his focus is largely on Vishkar. Genji listens, but he tends to keep out of the larger-scale strategizing anyway, so I can hardly expect him to advocate for me if he’s not advocating to begin with. Tracer listens, if only because she respected Mondatta.

That last thought stung and if Zen could have shaken his head to stop the train of thoughts, he would.

“You advise,” said Ashe, arching an eyebrow, “But you don’t know how the fight is going?”

“I don’t… advise tactically…” said Zenyatta, hesitantly, before attempting to assert himself as best he could while being completely immobilized. No, he wasn’t going to let himself get discouraged here. “Overwatch is a peacekeeping organization. If there is going to be peace, it requires guidance from activists like myself.”

“I thought you looked Shambali,” said Ashe, tilting her head, “So a cozy little alliance there, huh?”

“I… am no longer Shambali,” Zenyatta said a bit stiffly.

Ashe perked up a bit at this. That look of not-quite-pity seemed to shift into genuine concern. “Seriously?” she said.

“I was Shambali, but then the Shambali became overly concerned with dogmatism and overshadowed by their own fame, I believed the path to changing the world was in individual connections.”

Bob’s shoulders softened a bit at this but Bars made another exaggerated motion of his head to indicate eye-rolling.

“…So I set out on my own path,” said Zenyatta.

“And that lead you to Overwatch?” said Ashe, tilting her head.

Genji lead me to Overwatch, thought Zenyatta, but he managed a, “Yes.”

Ashe huffed a little before plopping back down in her seat.

“Bob,” she said, not even looking over her shoulder at the massive omnic butler, “Get my usual and get him some Glenwales.”

Bob perked up and quickly headed out of the room.

“I don’t want Glenwales–” Zenyatta started.

“Yes you do,” said Ashe. There wasn’t a playful ‘Come onnnn live a little!’ lilt in her voice, but rather a flat factuality.

“You threaten to take my head apart, and you think some oil is going to establish trust?” said Zenyatta.

“You talk about trust, but I wasn’t the one who started off this whole thing claimin’ to be an artist,” Ashe scoffed, “The sad part was I really wanted to believe that. We would have sent a tail after you when we let you go, I mean I’m not stupid, but I did want to believe it. But no, this isn’t about trust, Zen. This is about hospitality, and god knows you could use some.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bars. “Bars? Restore the motor functions of his head, neck, and left arm.”

“You sure, boss?” said Bars.

“Well I ain’t pourin’ that oil down his gullet, do you want to?” said Ashe, “It’s five on one and he’s not an idiot. Just lost. Like anyone.”

“I am not lost,” said Zenyatta, adjusting himself in his seat as he felt something pinch in his neck and felt the ability to move flood back into his arm.

Bob came back with an oddly fancy silver tray and two bottles and two glasses set upon it. One was an already-half-empty crystal decanter, the other was a commercial bottle of Glenwales, not even opened.

“Sure you are,” said Ashe, filling her own glass with the whiskey, “You’re working with Jesse McCree, ain’t you?”

“Overwatch as an organization is far more effective than you give it credit for,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” said Ashe with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s a hodgepodge, but the firepower you’ve got is nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“You’re more lost than me,” said Zenyatta, “You are plagued by doubt and resentment, your vision is clouded by anger, and you are ultimately chained down by your past.” His words would have far more effect with an orb of discord, but if it had managed to stop Genji in his tracks a few years ago, he saw no reason why it wouldn’t work on Ashe. But Ashe just kept that expression at him as Bob poured Zenyatta a glass of Glenwales and offered it to him. Bob looked questioningly to Ashe as well with Zenyatta’s words but Ashe seemed unshaken.

“Uh huh,” said Ashe, sipping her whiskey, “I know all that. And you’re in Overwatch because…”

“Because I must help,” said Zenyatta.

“Just not tactically,” said Ashe, swirling her whiskey in its glass, “And martially you can probably hold your own, but you’re not exactly a soldier. Or a doctor. And arguably you could advocate but as you said, you’re exactly Shambali, either.”

Despite finally having partial movement, Zenyatta stiffened in his seat.

“Lost recognizes lost,” said Ashe, “Which I guess brings me to the rub of the whole situation, which is, what do you think Overwatch would give to have you back?”

Zenyatta suddenly felt very hollow. Overwatch’s resources were stretched phyllo-thin as it was. He knew as a medic he was invaluable, but whether Overwatch had anything to offer or would even negotiate such a matter…

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zenyatta, “McCree was easily able to defeat you before–”

“Yeah. Fresh after a heist when everyone was exposed and exhausted and he was pulling the puppet strings on the situation just so he could get his glowy blue sex doll back. This situation calls for your team storming our turf–which, I promise you, will end up much worse if it really comes to that, which it doesn’t have to. I don’t have the time to bother with a hostage. Your team wants you back. We can take care of this like adults.” She motioned with her own glass to the bottle of Glenwales, “And we’ll see you’re well-taken care of in the meantime.” Zenyatta noted the virtually unchanged level of whiskey in her own glass and the still-sharp look in her eye as she set her own glass down. No, she wouldn’t get his guard down that easily.

“How kind of you,” Zenyatta’s voice was bitter and dry.

“Aw, thank you!” Ashe put a hand over her heart, “People tell me I’m too nice all the time.”

“They do?” said one of the triplets, before he got swatted upside the head by one of his brothers.

“Bars?” said Ashe, putting her hands on her hips, “Think you can figure out whatever comm network our guest is linked up to?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Bars, rolling his shoulders.

“Good. I want an accessible channel with it by the time I get back. You three,” Ashe motioned to the triplets, “With me. We’re riding. Making sure there’s none of those Sidewinder clowns in our territory in the meantime.”

“You got it, boss!” the triplets said in unison.

“Bob?” Ashe put a hand on the massive omnic’s shoulder, “I am leaving the comfort of our dear guest in your very capable hands… Also rip his head off if he tries escapin’.”

Bob gave a slight bow to Ashe as she walked out of the room, the Deadlock triplets trailing behind her in a line. They all headed out the door but Ashe paused in the doorway, “I mean, we can put it back, of course–”

“…Of course,” said Zenyatta, dryly.

Ashe made a finger gun at him, “Sit tight!” she said, before slipping away from the doorway.

About a minute of pure silence and stillness passed, punctuated only by the sound of Bars’ tools clinking as he sifted through them and then the hum of hovercycles in the distance. Zenyatta slumped a little in his seat, and then noticed Bob was pushing a glass of Glenwales in his direction.

“…I don’t want any,” said Zenyatta.

“Do you have tac-mods?” said Bars.

“Pardon?” said Zenyatta.

“Tactile modifications? You know, ‘Oh wow, organic partner, you touching me feels so good, and this is very genuine because I physically altered myself so we would both feel better about your dumb meatsack body rubbing on my chassis.’”

“…I… have.. some,” said Zenyatta.

“Where?” said Bars.

“That’s rude,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m asking you so I don’t hurt you,” said Bars.

“…Chest, forehead, and hands,” said Zenyatta.

“Really?” said Bars, “No…?” he gestured at his pelvic region.

“I…. considered them, but decided I wouldn’t get them until I found the right partner,” said Zenyatta.

“Ooh la-la,” said Bars, picking up a screwdriver, “Got a real romantic on our hands.”

“I’m a monk,” said Zenyatta.

“You’re not Shambali,” said Bars, stepping alongside Zenyatta and setting a screwdriver against one of the bolts securing the small flattened cylinder on the left side of his jaw. A few loosened screws the upper half of it came off easily. Zen didn’t feel a thing. He did feel a wire being stuck into one of the manual ports and then glanced off to the side to see Bars holding a tablet and tapping a few things into it. Zenyatta heard a high pitched noise buzz through his head for a few seconds before Bars extracted the wire.

“Got what I need,” said Bars, walking out of the room, “All you, Bob.”

Bob nodded as he headed off and the door closed behind him. Bob took a seat in the metal folding chair Ashe had been sitting in. It creaked and whined beneath his weight. Bob sat primly, one leg folded over the other, fingers interlaced on his knee like an old-fashioned gentleman in a victorian clothing catalogue.

He signed something at Zenyatta.

“…I don’t understand,” said Zenyatta.

Bob perked up, slightly alarmed, held up a finger again in a “Wait,” gesture, then stood up, stepped over to a work table and rifled through it briefly before pulling out a data drive. He pulled a small handkerchief from the interior of his vest and wiped the data drive down, looked it over, seemed pleased with it, then stepped in front of Zenyatta once more.

He held up the data drive to Zenyatta.

“What?” said Zenyatta.

Bob gestured to the side of his own head, then pointed at the exposed port on the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.

Zenyatta flinched back slightly and Bob made a slightly flailing, “it’s okay!” gesture, before taking a phone out from the interior of his vest. He slowly and clumsily tapped something out on the phone and then held the screen up for Zenyatta to read.

It’s safe.

I promise.

“I would like to trust you,” said Zenyatta, “But… given the circumstances…”

Bob withdrew the phone, rapidly tapped the screen indicating him deleting a word, then tapped something out again and held the phone up once more.

“I PROMISE” was in all caps now and Bob held up the data drive.

Zenyatta paused, studying Bob’s face, then gingerly took the data drive from Bob and inserted it into the exposed port in the side of his jaw. His train of thought slowed as it always did when he was downloading a large amount of data and Bob started signing.

“I don’t understand what you’re–” Zenyatta started, but then he did.

“—doesn’t cover all the signs, people are always making new ones, of course,” Bob was signing, “But you should be able to fill in the gaps–Do you understand me?”

Zenyatta sat there, stunned.

“Do you understand me?” Bob signed again.

Zenyatta brought up his one functioning hand and slowly signed, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes brightened. “Oh! I’m so glad! You don’t have to sign everything. You can just talk. It’s fine.”

“…why don’t you talk?” said Zenyatta.

“I tried a couple different voice boxes, Ashe and Bars still bring me some, sometimes,” Bob signed, “None of them sounded right. None of them sounded like me. This,” he signed, “Feels like me.”

“But you were made without a voice box?” said Zenyatta.

“Technically I’m just a slightly more advanced labor unit,” Bob signed, “I was never designed with one. I learned ASL because deafness is congenital in Miss Ashe’s family.”

“…explains why she’s so good at yelling,” Zenyatta said a bit dryly.

“It’s not my place to apologize on her behalf,” signed Bob, “But it does touch on a very sore spot that you’re involved with Jesse McCree and that you lied about it—”

“Because she’s the most dangerous woman in the southwest,” said Zenyatta.

“Dangerous things tend to be so to survive,” Bob signed. He paused for a bit and Zenyatta was silent as well.

“You spoke more than I thought you would,” Bob signed after a while.

“Oh–I did?” said Zenyatta.

“I was worried Bars would take your head apart–” Bob signed, “I mean the procedure is perfectly safe, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant but… you shared a lot…”

“…I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that many questions–me as in… me,” said Zenyatta, “Not what I thought so they could help themselves best—” He caught himself and then glanced back at Bob, who was still listening perfectly patiently, “I’m rambling. They’re a good team,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” Bob signed.

“They are,” said Zenyatta.

“I never said they weren’t,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta just slumped back in his seat a bit.

“I do wish we had met under better circumstances,” Bob signed, glancing off at the orb of destruction Ashe had left on the workbench, “But Miss Ashe doesn’t believe in keeping families apart. As harsh as she can be, she does want to see you back home.”

“I carry the Iris with me,” said Zenyatta, glancing off, “Home is wherever I can bring human and omnic together in harmony.”

Bob paused at this. “So home is with you,” Bob signed, “It’s not… technically… with them.”

“No–” said Zenyatta, “Well-Yes–I mean…” Zenyatta made a sighing sound. Not having any lungs, the sound itself didn’t have any physical purpose aside from giving him a few seconds to think, “Is this place home to you?” said Zenyatta.

“It is. I rather like being a dastardly rogue,” Bob signed, “It’s quite thrilling.”

Zenyatta chuckled a little at the sign for ‘Dastardly.’

“And Miss Ashe is my family,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta reared back slightly in his seat at this.

“She can surprise you,” Bob signed. He daintily extended a finger and pushed the little glass of Glenwales across the silver tray towards Zenyatta with his pinky. “Lots of things about this place can.”

Zenyatta gave a long look to the glass, then took it and gulped it down. Well, if he was going to be here for a while…

#bobyatta #tekharta zenyatta #bob overwatch #elizabeth caledonia ashe #overwatch

30 notes · View notes

pfenniged · 4 years

Note

3, 7, 9, 15, 18

booknet ask game (Apologies for the delay!):

3. what was the last book you rated 1/5?

Probably this horrific and justifiably priced 0.25 cent paperback I got from the library book sale. I care so little about the title I’m not even going to bother getting up to look at it, but basically it was somehow involving a mystery on a liner heading to New York, and The Kennedys circa 1941 when Joe (’God what a terrible person’) Kennedy was ambassador to England (And casual Nazi supporter/isolationist, lovely).

But the book promises you that it will mostly talk about Rosemary Kennedy as a character. Which I liked, because in case you don’t know, Rosemary Kennedy was JFK’s sister who was considered the ‘prettiest’ of all the Kennedy girls, but also constantly was on a diet because she ‘put on weight easily’ (Poor girl), and because she was seen as ‘simple.’ Supposedly when she was in her early twenties, she had the mental capacities or a naive thirteen year old/ writing level of an eight year old. They kept basically shoving her into boarding schools to try to push her forward in terms of education, but obviously when she most likely had something like a severe case of autism, there weren’t exactly many programs that directly addressed those who were learning disabled, and being a Kennedy, they most likely were like PUSH HER THROUGH IT AND SHE’LL BE FINE (Great, thanks guys).

All this being said, there is proof in terms of letters that basically everyone was afraid, because once she became a teenager, she started running away from these schools or sneaking out late at night, and they were literally worried because of how ‘naive’ she was, that she’d end up getting pregnant by some weirdo guy forcing himself on her/ convincing her to have sex. What most normal people/historians think now, is that she saw her brother being John F. Kennedy, El Primo Playboy of the World 1941, dating movie stars and having a buttload of friends (As my older brother used to say), and she obviously wanted to be involved in this glamorous, fun life with the rest of her family, rather than shoved away at some crappy boarding school with nuns the age of time immemorial (Understandable). (Also, for what it’s worth, JFK basically WAS a great older brother, for what I’ve heard, and wanted his parents to loosen up on her. He involved her in his social groups if she was around and never pushed her into anything that someone with her ‘limitations’ might be hurt by).

So of course the natural thing would be to do is to give her a lobotomy so she doesn’t run away, and of course, it had some horrific side effects and basically killed her personality entirely from all accounts, making her basically a human vegetable with only a shadow of the person she’d been before. After that Joe ‘I’m the Worst’ Kennedy carted his daughter off, and debatably, depending on who you ask, she was basically ignored by most of the family for 60+ years of her living in a care home, or embraced in private (The Kennedy message/propaganda/nice try guys). There’s really only consistent public photos of Ted Kennedy visiting her, because besides the whole ‘I accidentally murdered a woman I was having an affair with’ thing, Ted was the baby and seemed actually like ironically the most ‘Christian’ in the most broadest sense of the word besides Bobby Kennedy (Yes, I know they’re Catholic, it’s an analogy).

So bringing this back to this awful book, the ‘mystery’ on the cruise liner shit basically seemingly revolves around Rosemary pre-lobotomy and how she wants to get married to a ‘coloured jazz man.’ BUT THIS NEVER FACTORS INTO THE PLOT. NONE OF THE HISTORICAL FIGURES ABOARD DO EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE ‘POV’ CHAPTERS ASIDE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.

You heard me right. xD I KNOW IT’S THE 1940S IN THE BOOKS AND THERE’S FAR WORSE THAT COULD HAVE BEEN DONE AND THE JAZZ MAN IS NICE AND ALL BUT DAMN IT’S SORT OF THE WORST, BECAUSE THEY BASICALLY MAKE THIS THE ENTIRE REASON FOR HER LOBOTOMY AND WHILE THEORETICALLY IT WOULD FIT IN WITH JOE’S MOTIVATIONS HISTORICALLY, IT JUST CAME OFF AS SUPER SKEEZY AND UGH. Mostly the book A) Actually did a considerable job giving Rosemary a sweet and loving personality that you like, but considering what you know if you’re probably reading this book and how they’re just dropping bread crumbs the entire way through, it’s just incredibly morbid and bleh.

If you’re going to write historical characters and fiction well, at least have something more to back it up than ‘Racism was more (outwardly) prevalent back then so she was going to be in an interracial relationship so lobotomy.” It just came off as conflating two important issues (The rights of the learning disabled to date and have families of their own, and interracial romances versus status in society), and just came out to justify it for a lobotomy we never even see. (Trust me, I’m making it sound far more interesting than it is).

Plus the mystery on the liner is the main aspect of the story, and I think that’s what makes it the worst: This author just chose to have these random historical figures on BECAUSE, and considering Rosemary’s background and what we know happened to her, it just seemed like a pretty desperate ploy to reel people in (like myself), and have them go, “Wait, this is just a sub-par mystery book, not a historical mystery book: She used that whole actual living person who existed and who was screwed over by her own family as ‘shock value’ and a ‘hook’ for the audience.” Double EW.

7. what was the last book that made you cry?

Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese, who is unfortunately no longer with us but a BEACON of Canadian Literature, and I'm SO sad he didn’t get to write more books, because his writing style is BEAUTIFUL and poetic.

“Saul Indian Horse is an alcoholic Ojibway man who finds himself the reluctant resident of an alcohol treatment centre after his latest binge. To come to peace with himself, he must tell his story. Richard Wagamese takes readers on the often difficult journey through Saul's life, from his painful forced separation from his family and land when he's sent to a residential school to the brief salvation he finds in playing hockey. The novel is an unflinching portrayal of the harsh reality of life in 1960s Canada, where racism reigns and Saul's spirit is destroyed by the alienating effects of cultural displacement.”

What you also don’t get about the book from this review, is the role hockey plays as being central to the narrative. In that moment, and when Saul is young, inside his own head, he is just what we as the reader see him as: A young boy who loves a sport and finds it freeing. A PERSON. A kid who loves hockey.

He’s so good that he has a chance to make it to the NHL. He’s good enough to play on the ‘white teams,’ but when he starts beating white players, grown men and women throw things at him, like plastic ‘Indians’ from a ‘Cowboy and Indian’ set.

He is a skilled player. He has raw talent. But to make it to the next level, and because they won’t let him be on the team in any other role, because a Native man can’t become a skilled star in 1960s Canada, he has to become a ‘goon.’ There’s actually a moment in the book where he snaps, and it’s so well written and heartbreaking, where it’s like this Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde dynamic inside of him, where he literally just goes, “Okay? You want me to be a bloodthirsty ‘Indian’? Then I’ll be that for you.”

There’s also a movie I haven’t had the guts to watch all the way through, because I tried watching it on a plane ride from Australia to Canada without actually having read the book first, and having no idea what the movie was about aside from hockey and Indigenous culture, and Jesus Christ IT KILLED ME. I’m terrible at flying, had been throwing up and thoroughly miserable for about three hours at that point on the plane, tried to turn on a movie to distract myself, and within ten minutes, I was like “No, I think sticking to the vomiting is justified.” (To give you an idea of the directing style, it’s bizarrely produced by uber-Republican yet ‘weirdly-obsessed with Indigenous people’ movie star Clint Eastwood. If you’ve seen his other films and how sparse and depressing they can be, you can only IMAGINE what this material lends itself to. So I’d really stick to reading the book first. Because Wagamese’s voice is so much stronger within the book, and the pain and horror poor Saul is exposed to serves a purpose within the larger narrative much more clearly, and even when he is an alcoholic, he still is able to find hope within himself and returning to his people, and that’s a beautiful thing that I think was lost in the portions of the film I was able to catch.) Check it out: It was only written in 2012, but it’s already being heralded as a ‘classic’ in Canadian Indigenous Literature.

9. do you actually check out books that have been recommended for you?

I do. I might not actually READ them, but I’ll at least check out a snippet on Amazon to see if it’s my cup of tea. So if anyone has any recommendations, go right on ahead <3

15. how do you feel about reading buddies?

I would love a reading buddy! <3 Feel free to message me if you’re keen. <3

18. what was your favourite book when you were 10?

Probably something by Roald Dahl or The Hobbit, if we’re talking sheer escapism or enjoyment (Or the original run of Harry Potter). My Dad is an English teacher, so I was always reading older books than were probably age-appropriate (I was placed at a college-reading level at twelve on an assessment test), so other than that, a lot of classic literature: Just name it, I’ve probably read it.

I also was a nerd who decided to read the entire dictionary back to front somewhere around this time and copy down all the words I actually didn’t know on a list, so that was a hobby. xD I guess I could count that as a ‘favourite book.’ (-Insert Homer Simpson “NEEeeeRRRddddd” gif here-).

#asteriah #sorry this took too long bb! <3 #answers #personal #literature

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ltjlily17 · 4 years

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The truth about vampires

Let’s start off with some basics. What’s your name? Rachel How old are you? 35 What’s your hair and eye color? Green eyes, brown to teal hair. How tall are you? 5′6″

What’s your relationship status? Married Alright, enough of that. Let’s move on to the random shit. What’s your favorite song? Mayonaise by the Smashing Pumpkins, Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton and In Your Atmosphere by John Mayer. What does that song mean? What is the message behind it? They are all pretty different theme wise, but all three really evoke a feeling. Is it your favorite because you relate to it, or do you just like the beat? They’re all more guitar heavy than having a beat, the lyrics and overall feeling the songs provide are what really get m, though. Have any pets? If so, what are they and what’s their names? I have a dog named Finn, and a cat named Mateo. Have you ever met your idol? If so, were they nice or were they kind of an ass? I don’t have an idol. What’s your favorite method of gaming? (PC, Xbox, Playstation, etc) Either the Switch or my laptop. Xbox is fine, but I guess I prefer a handheld type device. If you’re in college, what’s your major and why did you pick it? I am not in college. My major when I attended varied between visual communications, education and IT. I didn’t choose nor graduate. How’re you doing today? Meh, theres a lot going on around me with people I care about. I was talking to a friend earlier about how most people are stressed or unhapy this time of year, which is really not my experience. I love buying gifts for others, decorating and baking, so this is generally a good time for me. What color are your bedroom walls? Ugh, like a pastel yellow. I really dislike the color. I have painted some grey paint splotches on one wall to see which one I liked most, but I’ve never gotten around to actually painting. Describe your favorite shirt. I don’t know that I have a favorite. I typically wear a shirt I got from John Mayer’s last tour the most- its got a cool fish and cat graphic on it. Use this space to tell someone off. I’ve no one to tell off. What’s your view on smart watches? Cool or a waste of money? I have one. I like it. I really like watches in general, though and I feel a little sad I don’t wear the analog ones anymore, but I’d miss the functionality of the smartwatch. What is one poster that you have hanging on your bedroom wall of? I don’t have anything hanging on the walls in my room. We have slanted ceilings, so there isn’t even enough space for a poster. My room was covered in band posters as a teenager, though. How many times have you moved in your life? I lived at home til 20, lived with my first roommate til 25, a townhouse with a friend and my now husband for a year, an apt with my now husband for 4 years and now our house for 5 years. If you moved, do you like where you are now better than where you were? I’ve stayed in pretty much the same area, but living in our house is definitely better than the one bedroom apartment we were in. What’s your favorite color and why? Grey. Darker earthy tones. Do you have a calendar? If so, what’s the theme? Nope. Just use my watch/phone. Have any famous person’s autographs? I do on some concert tickets from when I was younger. Do you draw well? Depends on your perspective, to my non-artistic friends, they think I’m amazing. The artistic friends, probably just roll their eyes lol. What type of cell phone do you have? iPhone X. Should you be doing anything else right now or are you just bored? I finally finished the wedding I had been editing and the only other project I have right now is the paint by number of our dog I got for my husband as a gift, but he’s here, so it has to wait. Finishing that wedding was a huge weight off my shoulders.

If you’re in school/college, what’s your favorite subject and why? Not in school. Maybe now that I’m done with the wedding I’ll start exploring some learning opportunities. Are you a cat or a dog person? Why? I would’ve always said cat until I got a dog. There are a lot of things about dogs I was really not into, but I love my dog so much. Personality wise, I’m more of a cat person, but in practice I like dogs. Tell me about the plot of your favorite book. I have several. One has a ghost that rings a bell around a mounted moose’s head. Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses. What do you think about horror movies? I like them. I’ve seen a lot of old ones. Back in the day, my mom and I would go to Blockbuster and I’d get a different horror movie every week. If you love them (I do), what’s your favorite? Nightmare on Elm Stree is a classic for me. It Follows is probably the one that fucked me up the most. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I’ve got all my gifts purchsed except for the hub. He sent me a ridiculous wish list that included a suit of armor and a castle and then decided he didn’t want any gifts this year. I’m running out of time to figure something out. Do you do Black Friday shopping or wait for Cyber Monday? Neither. I’m definitely not going to go out on Black Friday and deal with all those people for junk I don’t need. As for Cyber Monday, I don’t really pay much attention to any of the deals and don’t really buy more on that day than I would on any other. Have any mental illnesses? Not encompassing enough to get any kinda of diagnosis. What’s your favorite word and why? No idea. What is the most expensive thing you own, and what is it? My car? I mean, I don’t outright own it yet. Singular item, my MacBook or iMac, I guess. Did you buy that item yourself? Yes, I bought the macbook and iMac after I left my job at Cassano’s and needed a new laptop since my previous one was owned by the company. Where do you work and what is your position? *I am currently unemployed. How often do you cuss? A fair amount. Maybe just a little bit more than whomever I’m talking to. What type of car do you drive, if any? I have a 2012 Volvo s60. Are you happy with it? If no, what’s your dream car? I prefer to drive my car than my husbands, but I’m like 50/50 on liking it. Right now, my dream vehicles are the new Land Rover Defender or an Audi Q8. Do you have a lot of social media accounts? Which ones? I have Instagram, Facebook LinkedIn and Tumblr. I very rarely post on any of them. I use snapchat a lot, though, if that counts. What is your favorite genre of music? My Spotify year end review said I listen to Pop, Rock, Indie, Folk and Emo the most. In that order. Does your family have holiday traditions? If so, what are they? Nope. My fmaily just barely cobbles themselves together for major holidays. If you’re in a relationship, are you happy with it? Sure. People are breaking up around us, and it really makes me appreciate the relationship my husband and I have, even if it doesn’t always feel like its going as well as it is. How long have you been with your significant other? Just hit the 10 year mark. Do you like psychology? (It’s my college major). Nah. Never really been something I’m too interested in. What is something your state is popularly known for? College football I guess. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? I do. I recently drew a bunch of Dungeons and Dragons monsters to use as ornaments on a tree in my dining room where my husband and his friends play Dungeons and Dragons on Sundays. I’ve made some painting as house warming gifts or nursery art for friends children that they’ve hung up and thats nice to see. Do you watch sports or do you think they’re overrated? Nah. Not really a fan. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? Meh, I don’t know that I want to hate on any specific occupation. The extremely rich do bother me, however, with how much money they make, often at their employees detriment. Do you straigthen your hair? Not usually. I have more lately, since its getting long again. I’m more likely to do the loose waves thing, though. Ever dyed your hair a color that isn’t natural? (blue, pink, etc) Yes, it is currently teal. How’s your relationship with your parents? Relationship with my mom is okay, none with my dad. Do you still live with them or do you have your own house? I live in my own home. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Hmm, nothing. The couple of items I want at the moment, I asked for on my Christmas list. Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? Nope, I’ve never smoked. Ever done drugs? Nope. Tell me one of your worst habits. Picking at my cuticles? What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? No idea, I kind of doubt that theres something I do that no one else ever does. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I don’t ever need a headset. What type of computer do you own, and do you like it? I have a MacBook Pro. I used to have an Air and I loved it, but my husband talked me into getting the Pro instead and I regret it. What’s the thing that annoys you the most? When my husband asks google to make his cellphone ring at max volume without even trying to look for it. Today, it was in his pocket. What brand of TV do you have? Samsung. Are you excited for Christmas? (It’s December 1st today when I made this) Kind of? I love how cozy my house feels with all the decorations. Tell me about your favorite vacation you’ve taken. We went to New York for my birthday/anniversary/Halloween 2 years ago. Tell me something cool about yourself. I am not cool? Did/do you get good grades in school/college? Not in my middle school/high school years. What’s your ringtone on your phone? Vibrate. What’s your favorite store to shop in? The internet. If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would buy and why? I have no idea. I’d probably sit on the money for a long time and then once I finally broke the seal, buy a bunch of stuff. How long have you had a Bzoink account? Don’t have one. Ever been to Field of Screams? If so, what’s your favorite attraction? Nope. Do you own a Polaroid camera? I have an Instax camera. Do you have hardwood floor in your room or carpet? The two bedrooms upstairs have carpet, but the rest of the house is hardwood. It’s a Saturday night, what are you typically doing? Relaxing at home, most likely. Doing a crossword puzzle, probably. Do you have a lot of friends or do you not have any at all? I have a couple. What’s your all time favorite movie and why? I don’t know, really. I watch the Iron Man movies and Thor Ragnarok the most these days. How many blankets do you sleep with at night? A sheet and comforter. What’s the last TV show you watched? Did you enjoy it? The Mandalorian. I do enjoy it. Do you prefer cable TV or do you use Netflix? We have cable, but never really watch it. Everything we want to watch is only Netflix or Disney+. What is your dream job and why? I have no idea. Need to get to thinking on that. Do you think you would be a good therapist? I do. I think I can listen to people and help them come to their own answers pretty well. What’s your favorite brand of clothing? I don’t know that I have a favorite. Anything that fits well and has a lot of sales lol.

#dontletthemgetyoudown #peopleinmotion #survey #songs #vampire #sweetness

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bradycore · 6 years

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Horror Movie

For @sanderssidesspook 's spooky month and the prompt scary movie night!

Words: 1,115

Pairings: platonic Analogical

Warnings: screaming, being scared, not really anything else-- I've never really seen a horror movie so no details

***

Virgil grudgingly removed his headphones at the knock on the door. “What is it?”

“It’s Logan. Do you think I could come in?” came the voice through the mahogany wood. The door had been added to the main hallway at Patton’s request after Virgil started getting more used to being a part of their famILY.

“Sure.” The teacher stepped inside, giving a grimace as he motioned out to where Virgil could hear the two right brain traits laughing about something from all the way downstairs. “They were being a bit too much..my apologies for disturbing you.”

“It’s fine.” Virgil decided to take pity on the formal side and refrained from adding a ‘dude.’ “At least you knocked and didn’t just barge in like the others usually do. Though I have to ask, wouldn't you have rather been alone?”

Logan came to sit on the bed, pink grazing his cheeks. “I have to admit, I enjoy your company. Besides,” he added, “I finished a very good book today, and I don't quite know what to do with myself.”

Virgil flopped down onto his back. “I've been bored too. So what should we do then?”

A minute of contemplation that got them nowhere passed before they glanced toward Virgil’s laptop at seemingly the same time. “More conspiracy theory videos?”

“I...think there might be none we haven’t seen.” What, they’d only spent a few nights this past month up late, sucked in to youtube.

(Okay, it was more than a few nights. But it turned out it was something they both enjoyed. Logan would figure out how likely the conspiracies were to be true, Virgil would have an existential crisis, and in the morning they would exchange tired glances as they downed their caffeinated tea. Bonding.)

Logan’s eyes glowed a faint blue for a second as he got an idea.

“It’s close to Halloween...does your laptop have movies?”

The anxious trait knew instantly what Logan was thinking. “Do we really want to watch a horror movie?”

“I've never seen one,” Logan admitted. “Thomas has stayed away from them--”

“Thankfully,” Virgil muttered.

“--and I have to admit they intrigue me. Based on collected data, I believe movies are better to watch with other people, so I've never watched one on my own.”

“I started a Stephen King movie once and I couldn't even finish it, but sure, sounds fun.”

They spent a few minutes trying to figure out what they wanted to watch-- “I’m ruling out Stephen King, because you've read all the books so you'd know what's going to happen and have an advantage.” “Fair enough. I doubt I'm going to get too scared anyway but--" “Hey, I can't freak out alone. Now we gotta find a really creepy one. If you don't get scared the whole experience will be ruined. And we’re staying in my room, too"-- before settling on one and placing themselves on the floor to watch it.

The emo side lay on his stomach and pulled it up on Netflix. Logan carefully sat down and crossed his legs, wondering for a second how Virgil could be comfortable until he got pulled down in the same position by Virgil, who then snapped his fingers to turn off the lights.

“Ready?”

Nod.

Click.

They spent the first while watching in mostly silence, occasionally making fun of the over-exaggerated romance or cliche backdrops, but it was overall a well done movie and found both of them internally shivering whenever they caught something purposefully slightly...off in a scene, getting caught up in the building tension(though Logan grudgingly).

Then it started to get scary. Real scary.

---

Downstairs, Patton and Roman had popped up to say hello to Thomas, and they started chatting about video ideas.

“Getting something out on Halloween would be cool--"

“That would be MARVELOUS!” Roman agreed.

“But,” Thomas started to continue, before getting interrupted by an excited exclamation from Patton. “We could do costumes and then guess who’s who! Or if you didn't want to do a Sanders Sides--"

“Oh my-a Angelou, you could do a cover of This is Halloween! Even Virgil would agree to that!”

“Guys! Let’s--"

“Or a trick-or-treating vlog!”

“Or--”

Thomas clapped, loudly. “Hey. Can we bring in Logan and Virgil? I think you guys might be getting a little over excited...I would appreciate some balance to this conversation.”

Roman pouted but gave a summoning motion towards Logan’s spot.

“Maybe he’s in Virgil’s room,” Patton suggested, when the logical side didn't appear.

“I don't see why he would be. --Oof, that sounded mean, I didn't mean it like that, I swear.” Roman gestured in an upwards motion, and this time, it worked.

Which was sort of unfortunate timing, since back with the two left brains, a jumpscare had caused Logan to let out a loud curse as Virgil’s reflexes kicked in and he flung the laptop away from them, just as they popped into the real-world living room.

Thomas ducked just in time. “I am so done with these flying computers, guys, I swear--"

Virgil and Logan looked up in spooked alarm at the change in surrounding. They were now huddled close together, a blanket around them for extra protection. (It felt safe at the time, though it must be made known that fabric actually isn't that good of a defensive item.)

“Um...do we want to know,” said Roman carefully, as tinny screams came from the fallen laptop.

Virgil squinted his eyes against the sudden bright lights. “Come on, we were just at a good part.”

“What's your definition of good, because your voice is shaking right now.”

Patton peered at the upside down screen before shuddering. “Ew ew ew!”

“We were just watching a horror movie,” Logan said (in a voice quite different than he usually had since internally he was still screaming with fear.)

Thomas reached down and closed the computer, and you could practically see Logan and Virgil’s tense shoulders relaxing in relief as the sound finally shut off.

“Are you kiddos gonna be okay?”

“Of course, soon we’ll be acclimated to the relative calm and safety of reality again. In any case, fear is illogical.”

Virgil allowed himself a snicker. “Huh, that's strange, Logic, because you were definitely afraid.”

“Well, yes, and I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight, but--"

Virgil started laughing(though it might have been a bit hysterical).

“Okay, well,” said Thomas, deciding as he often did when it came to his personality that the best course of action might be to push the situation in a more sane direction, “we were just talking about videos for Halloween. I'm guessing a horror movie react is out of the question?”

Two normally calmer voices gave a yelped “YEP.” (And no, neither slept that night...they might’ve finished the movie and then sat staring at the wall in paralyzed fear til dawn came, but shh.)

#sanders sides #sanders sides spooky month #fanfiction #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #platonic analogical #analogical #horror movies #halloween #always?writes

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analogscum · 6 years

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THE BURNING (1981, d. Tony Maylam)

Welcome to Camp Analog Scum! Now that summer is in full effect, we’ll be devoting this week to discussing two entries into one of the most hallowed subgenres in all of horror: the summer camp slasher flick! Following the massive success of Friday the 13th in 1980, small studios realized they had an easy formula to print some quick dough: find an idyllic summer camp somewhere in the Northeastern U.S., fill it up with hard-partying horny teenagers, and unleash a bloodthirsty psychopath with some kind of score to settle on them. It’s not hard to understand the universal appeal of the summer camp slasher flick: who doesn’t remember long July days running around in the woods, swimming in the lake, or the white-knuckled terror of a ghost story told ‘round the campfire? After all, a story can’t hurt you…unless it’s real.

Our first entry into this double feature, 1981’s The Burning, was somewhat lost to time for awhile. It was perhaps the first film to try and capitalize on Friday the 13th’s boffo box office, and while it got a more positive critical response than the film it was aping, audiences greeted the film lukewarmly, and it quickly faded from public consciousness thereafter. These days, thanks to re-releases from the likes of Scream Factory and Arrow, The Burning has finally found an adoring audience. I won’t lie, part of the reason I even did this summer camp-themed week in the first place was so that I could finally stop making excuses and watch this movie. And now, time for a controversial opinion: in terms of pure slasher bonafides, I think that this may be a better movie than the original Friday the 13th. Yeah, I said it!

If you grew up around New York and New Jersey, like yours truly, then you probably heard some variation on the legend of Cropsy, the madman who stalked the woods, looking for children to kill. The Burning takes this campfire classic and runs with it: we begin at Camp Blackfoot, sometime in the late 1970s. It’s after lights out, but a few of the older campers are plotting a prank on Cropsy, the groundskeeper of the camp. Quickly it becomes apparent that these kids fuckin’ hate Cropsy’s guts, but we never really get a clear answer as to why. Hey, sometimes kids just decide that a person sucks. The gang slowly make their way into Cropsy’s creepy-ass bunk, set something next to his bed, light that something on fire, then go knock on his window, stifling their laughter. Cropsy wakes up, and to his horror, sees what is burning next to his bed: a worm-ridden human skull! Wait, how did these pimple-faced little shits get their hands on a human skull?! Doesn’t matter, because Cropsy knocks over the skull and sets himself on fire! Oh fuck! Then he knocks over a canister of gasoline that is by his bed for some reason, and now he’s even more on fire! Oh fuuuuuuuuck! He runs out of the cabin, and he’s totally for real super duper on fire, and throws himself into the lake. The kids run off, their prank having turned into a crime scene.

Cut to five years later. Cropsy is getting wheeled out of the hospital or whatever. As he’s being rolled down this hallway, we hear all sorts of ADR voiceover recapping his stint in the burn ward: the skin grafts won’t take, there’s nothing we can do for you, try and forgive those kids, it was just an accident, etc. Suddenly, Cropsy is in Time’s Square, picking up a prostitute. Wait, I thought that this was a summer camp slasher flick? Anyway, she leads our giallo-ed out crispy critter up into her bedroom, understandably freaks out when she sees what he looks like, and then gets stabbed to death with a pair of scissors. If you look up “gratuitous” in the dictionary, its just a picture of this scene.

Now we’re back at camp, but this time it’s a different camp: Camp Stonewater. We meet our cast of characters: there’s Todd and Michelle, the head counselors; there’s Dave, the prankster; Eddie, the lothario; Karen, the virginal shy girl; Sally, the blonde bombshell; Glazer, the asshole bully; Alfred, the misanthropic nerd, and a few more. We get to spend quite awhile with these characters before the bloodshed happens, and we grow to like quite a few of them, so when the bloodshed actually begins, we’re more invested in the story, and more likely to get scared. I don’t know why this concept is so often lost on other filmmakers, but this is the main thing that this movie gets totally right. It’s also fun because these kids are played by some future notable faces: if you’ve seen a mob movie made after 1980, then you’ve seen Ned Eisenberg, who plays Eddie. A shockingly young Fisher Stevens plays a scrawny kid named Woodstock. We get to see future Oscar winner Holly Hunter in a small role as Sophie. And most notable of all is Dave, who is played by none other than Jason Alexander, when he still had a full head of hair! Talk about the Summer of George!

Some shenanigans happen. Alfred spies on Sally in the shower, and he’s a whiny dork about it. Glazer roughs him up a bit and throws him in the lake, because he’s decided that Sally is his girl, which is news to Sally. Dave and Woodstock help Alfred get revenge on Glazer by shooting him in the butt with a BB gun and mooning him. Constanza ass alert! These kids smoke cigarettes and read Playboys and talk openly about sex and jerking off, just like real teenagers do, and it’s very refreshing. At one point Alfred catches a glimpse of a weird, burnt up face in the window, but no one believes him, because he’s a total wet blanket about everything. There’s a really good fake-out scare involving Woodstock in a dark empty cabin which totally got me because even in my thirties I’m still freaked out by the dark. You don’t judge me, I judge you!

The next day, our gang jumps into some canoes and sets off on an overnight camping trip, somewhere near the former sight of Camp Blackfoot. What could go wrong?! That night, around a roaring campfire, Todd recounts the legend of Cropsy, who jumps out and tries to kill everyone! Aaaaaaaah! No, wait, it’s just Eddie in a rubber mask! Oh, Eddie! Speaking of Eddie, he convinces Karen, whom he has the hots for, to go skinny dipping with him in the lake. Karen is apprehensive, but she does have feelings for him, so she strips down and hops in. However, she gets uncomfortable when Eddie starts putting some moves on her, and keeps telling him to stop. Finally, Eddie gets super mad and tells her to leave him alone. In exchange for standing up for herself and refusing to be just another one of Eddie’s sexual conquests, Cropsy shows up and violently slits Karen’s throat with his trusty garden shears. Umm?

Now it’s morning, and Todd and Michelle are freaking out. Not only is Karen missing, but the canoes have disappeared. Eddie tells them what happened the night before with the skinny dipping and the blue balls and the anger, but Michelle is suspicious of him, despite telling Karen in an earlier scene that she should just let Eddie fuck her and get it over with. Whatever, Michelle. Todd gets the bright idea to build a raft out of twigs and branches and shit, which sounds hella stupid, but somehow actually works. They send a bunch of the kids, including Eddie and Woodstock, to row back to the camp and see if Karen or the missing canoes have turned up. Meanwhile, Glazer will not stop getting handsy with Sally, who keeps telling him no, which of course gets him super mad, and so finally to get him off her case, Sally is like, fine whatever meet me in the woods later and we’ll totally clown on each other in the nude, which is good enough to make Glazer stop pawing at her for awhile.

Back on the raft, everyone is tired and miserable. But look! There’s one of the missing canoes! Just floating there ominously in the middle of the river! Let’s row towards it! And so they row towards it, for what feels like 8 hours. Even though you can probably figure out what’s coming, they draw it out for such a ridiculously long time that you can’t help but hyperventilate a little bit. Just when they finally get right next to the canoe, who jumps out but our old pal Cropsy and them garden shears of his! In roughly twenty seconds he disposes of all of these kids in a very gory, graphic manner, and it’s awesome. So, so, so, so awesome. The amount of carnage that they manage to squeeze into these twenty seconds is awe inspiring. Well done, The Burning. Well done.

Meanwhile, Glazer and Sally are finally doing the horizontal polka, but of course Glazer blasts his sauce after like five pumps. Sad. But for some reason, Sally is kinda impressed? And she’s like, how long until you can drum up a new supply, because I’ve got a totally inexplicable case of the hornies. So Glazer is like, holy shit, ok, this truly never happens, sit tight, I’m going to head back to the campground and grab some matches so that we can make a fire. Good thing that Glazer wasn’t sleeping with Missy Elliot, because we all know how she feels about one minute men.

So of course as soon as Glazer leaves, Cropsy leaps out from behind the camera and turns Sally into his own personal shrubbery. Back at camp, Glazer grabs the matches, and for some reason, Alfred wakes up and decides to follow him. Dude, Alfred, what are you doing?! Being a voyeur has already gotten you in trouble once, and you know that Glazer is praying for any excuse he can find to shred you into pulled pork. Ill-advised, this plan is. As Alfred looks on, Glazer very, very, veeeeery slowly pulls back his and Sally’s sleeping back, which Cropsy was somehow hiding in? It’s confusing, but oh shit, Cropsy stabs the shit out of Glazer, and there’s so much blood. Peace out, Glazer.

Alfred runs back to the campground and wakes up Todd, who is understandably not super thrilled to be awoken by this neurotic dork at 4am or whatever, but Alfred runs one of his classic guilt trips on him, so they head into the woods, where Todd is shocked to find that yes, Glazer and Sally are both super duper dead. Oh no, Cropsy jumps up and smacks Todd on the side of the head, knocking him unconscious! Alfred runs around the woods for what feels like the entire first season of Cheers. The makeshift raft drifts back over to the campground, and to Michelle and the others’ chagrin, it’s full of the mutilated corpses of their friends.

Todd follows Alfred’s screams to a shack in the middle of the woods. We’re treated a suitably tense game of Cropsy and mouse as the creep stalks Todd through his lair. All of a sudden, there’s a flashback to the first scene: turns out, Todd was one of the kids who pulled the prank that turned Cropsy into fried chicken! Cropsy is brandishing a flame thrower, because this time, it’s…well, you know. We finally get a good look at the guy, and, well, he looks like if someone took an action figure of Sloth from the Goonies and put it in the microwave. Todd is about to get totally murderized by fire, but at the last moment, Alfred breaks free and stabs Cropsy with his own garden shears! Oh, the irony! Our two heroes are walking away, but oh crap, Cropsy is still alive! He grabs Alfred, but he breaks free and Todd smashes his head in with an axe before Alfred finishes the job with the flame thrower. Oh, the double irony!

As the police chopper in, we fade in on another campfire, and another set of campers. A counselor once again tells his rapt charges about the legend of Cropsy. The man himself may be dead, but he lives on in nightmares, just like Roger Ailes.

There are many reasons to recommend The Burning, and many of them are up on the screen. The acting is good, the cinematography is surprisingly artful, the story is well-paced, and the kills are fantastic. But The Burning is also an intriguing film due to some of the faces behind the camera. Weirdly enough, the film’s soundtrack was composed and performed by Rick Wakeman, the Arthurian legend-obsessed synth wizard from Yes. Though he occasionally dips into his typical ornate, switched on Bach territory, Wakeman also does deep, guttural digital terror surprisingly well. The film’s excellent, gory kills got their bite courtesy of the legendary Tom Savini. As the story goes, the makeup master was less than thrilled with the reveal of the undead Jason Voorhees at the end of his previous project, so he passed on the sequel in order to work on The Burning instead. Savini set out to outdo his work on Friday the 13th, and I personally think he succeeded. These kills are nasty and visceral and stock full of Grand Guignol madness. The only demerit is Cropsy’s burnt face, but in his defense, Savini only had three days to make it.

And then there’s the elephant in the room, in more ways than none: Harvey Weinstein. The film has the distinction of being one of Miramax’s first productions; Harvey and his brother Bob helped write the screenplay, alongside future Sopranos producer Brad Grey, and Harvey gave himself a “Created and Produced by” credit, whatever that means. Sadly, for as much as I enjoyed the movie as an 80s slasher, I found it to be nearly impossible to watch The Burning today without it being colored by what we now know about Weinstein. There’s been plenty of ink, digital or otherwise, spilled on how the Friday the 13th franchise punishes its characters with death for their sexual transgressions, but that trope is somewhat murkily applied to The Burning. Karen is punished with death for REFUSING to have sex with Eddie, whereas Sally is punished with death for giving in to Glazer’s sexual advances despite not wanting to. No matter if you’re the Madonna or the Whore, you’re still just gristle for the slaughter in the end. Given that this film’s “creator” may end this year as a convicted sex offender, could this film be a glimpse into his poisonous views on women? Turns out there were multiple monsters on the set of The Burning, but only one of them showed up onscreen.

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mellicose · 6 years

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That Woman Over There - Chapter 7

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: teen, for some strong language

Word count: 5830

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Note: due to the length of this chapter, I won’t be posting the next one until next Wednesday. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

He came back with drinks and sat hard beside her.

“Ow!” she yelled. “Your skinny ass is gonna leave a bruise!”

“Nonsense. I heard from very good sources that it’s quite nice,” he said. He drank deep from a longneck.

“What happened to those ladies you were working on? They looked pretty into it.”

“I gave them my business card,” he said dismissively.

“How analog of you,” she said. “Seriously, though. You just blew them off?”

He shrugged. “Yes and no. There will always be bored, horny women. Any night of the week, at any pub. That shit never changes.” There was something in his tone that stopped her from becoming offended for all womankind.

“What happened?” she said.

“What? With the women?”

“With your wife,” she said.

Again, he lay back and looked at the stars peeking through the clouds.

“You can’t see the stars in the heart of the city,” he said. “It’s not something you think about when you move. It’s usually whether to buy a car or not, or whether there’s a nice supermarket nearby, but never whether you’ll see the stars at night,” he said. “It’s so weird how easily priorities get … skewed.”

She sighed.

“She wasn’t happy. She dieted and exercised and experimented with different looks, but she wasn’t getting signed. And as time passed, it got worse and worse. Anxiety ate her alive. She began to get surgeries. And I, the ever obliging husband, paid for them. But nothing worked. Nothing was good enough. Not the flat, the city, and most glaringly … me.”

Her stomach bubbled.

“She had a thing she did,” he continued. “A rare talent, if you want to call it that. I’m a grown man. No glasses. No brace. But she had a way, ever so subtly, to make me feel like that bent boy again. And as time passed and things didn’t go like she wanted, it happened more and more. Until I was the boy - just a weak, whinging thing at her feet, begging for the least scrap of affection or sympathy.”

It’s like he took a slice of life from her childhood. How many times had she peeked around corners as her mom berated her father for no other reason than ennui? He would withstand her onslaught, softly clucking out an occasional “perdoname, mi amor”.

She spit poison, but he knelt, brown eyes liquid with adoration, and apologized to her. Every time. Every day. For years. He wore his misery and shame so openly that she found herself averting her eyes. And although he was a good man - loyal and kind - she began to resent him.

“To add insult to injury, I suggested that we start a family. I figured that maybe if she had a wee baby to watch over, she wouldn’t be so worried about other things. I really fucked up then,” he said, eyes wide. “I was sexist. A selfish misogynist asshole, and I wanted her barefoot and bloated in the kitchen. That was a laugh. She didn’t cook.”

“Then how did you eat?” she said.

“I did the cooking. And most of the cleaning. She preferred to have a lie in and then go out for late lunches with friends.”

It wasn’t an odd confession. Her own mother never lifted a finger - they had a cleaning service come in every day to keep things tidy. Because her mother was so contrary, she was never able to form any connection to the staff, since they never lasted long.

“Why didn’t you get someone to come in to do the cleaning?”

His brow wrinkled with indignation. “I come from honest Scottish stock. It’s a shame not to be able to clean up your own muck. It was just us two, hardly an excuse to have some poor woman scrubbing and dusting after us.”

“They get paid to do it,” she said. She played with the buckle on her boot.

“You have a cleaner?” he said, giving her a disapproving look.

“No. My apartment’s small, and dust never really bothered me,” she winked at him. “It add character.”

“It gives me asthma,” he said.

“Then I guess you can’t come over,” she said.

“Am I invited? I could use a cheeky NYC holiday,” he said. “I’m curious about seeing American women in their natural habitat.”

“All animals, are we?”

He shook his head briskly. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I get it. I was joking,” she said. “It’s a pity she didn’t want children.”

He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Last I heard, she’s a new mum to a healthy baby girl,” he said morosely. “She didn’t want to have my children.” He kicked at the firepit.

“Did she actually say that, though?” she said.

“Not quite. For the first half of the marriage, she insisted she couldn’t have children because it would ruin her figure. That made some sense to me, so I waited. We were young. But as things began to fall apart and it was obvious that there would be no modeling career, the truth finally came to light.”

“And what truth was that?”

He couldn’t look at her. No one knew the truth. Not Alex and Olivia. Not even his own mother. And he didn’t know why he was going to tell her. She noticed his hesitation, and squeezed his hand. Old pain began to rise from where he had subsumed it under a mountain of self-loathing and anger. He was suddenly dizzy with it.

“She didn’t want to procreate with me. She would be horrified if she had a ‘gimp kid.’” His voice was hoarse with pain. He put his head in his hands, and his body trembled as he tried to fight the urge to sob. Hearing it out loud, it took him back to the moment his life fell apart. Mara’s face had been so lax, so cold. She didn’t understand why he crumpled in his chair, and went pale as a sheet - to her, it made perfect sense.

“And when we lost Josie, I started to wonder…” he said, his face twisted with horror, “I started to wonder whether…” he took a whooping breath, “ whether it was my fault.” He finally broke down.

She wrapped her arms around him and let his choked sobs shake her. His pain humbled her - there was no anger whatsoever left in her. He tried to wave her away, but she insisted on holding him. She shushed into his neck and held him tight, taking in the scent of leather and salt. His body curled into her, and he finally hugged her back so hard it made her ribs ache.

He disentangled himself and started to yank at the jewelry on his wrist. “Look-” He lost patience and bit off the fashionable thin leather thong bracelet. He held his right wrist up for her to see.

She rubbed her thumb along the cursive letters.

“Josie,” she read out loud. Without another thought, she kissed his wrist. A tear dripped on his palm. They sat there, just breathing. She pulled up the hem of her shorts. He squinted, then dared to brush the skin of her hip.

“It’s a poppy,” he said, mystified. “Quite nice.” Although tears still dried in his beard, he wasn’t just talking about the tattoo. She linked her fingers through his long ones. He warmed at her easy, mindless gesture. It felt so very nice. Almost better than sex.

“That was her name. Poppy,” she said, smiling at him. “She wasn’t mine through blood or marriage, but I love her with all my heart.”

Was it another girlfriend? His heart dropped. “Wait - who are you talking about?” he said softly. He didn’t remember Olivia mentioning a Poppy.

“She was Ella’s little girl,” she said.

He couldn’t hide his relief. “Her daughter. I see. What happened with Ella?”

She squeezed his hand. “The most common but painful of conjugal sins - infidelity. Our relationship no longer held any adventure or excitement for her. This is a quote.”

“How many years were you together?” he said, rubbing her back.

“Four years, 7 months, and 20 days,” she said. “Nothing like you and Mara.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“At least Mara married you. Ella didn’t believe in the institute of matrimony. She said it was heteronormative garbage and she refused to tow the line for the sake of a false sense of propriety.”

He sucked his teeth. “She sounds a delight,” he said. “So you wanted to do the whole white frock and flowers thing, eh?”

“I love weddings, straight and gay. I’m an unapologetic weeper,” she said. “I guess I wanted that for me. To share our love with people - make a public and binding commitment in front of God and man.”

“Ooh,” he said. “Binding. That just gave me chills.”

“You were married,” she said.

“If it isn’t already apparent, it was harrowing.”

“You loved her, though,” she said. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “At best, she loved the idea of me. The stability and ease of a life with me. But she never loved me. And it happens far too often.”

“You know, not all women see their partners as walking ATM machines,” she said petulantly. She was the main breadwinner as well. But up until the end, she chose to believe it was love, and not being a stable dupe to raise her kid, that kept Ella around.

“I could tell you some stories,” he said, his eyebrows high. “Sad, sad stories.”

“Like what?”

“The divorce process isn’t kind to many men - even those who did things very right. It’s the woman’s word above all, even when there is proof of infidelity.” He cleared his throat.

“Imagine how awkward it is when it’s two women,” she said. He looked confused. “I’ll give you a clue: complete and utter shitstorm.”

“Did Ella take you for all you had, then?” he said, too jovially.

“Thing is, she didn’t have to. Even after the breakup, I wanted to help her find a proper place for Poppy to grow up, and give her money for her schooling. But she didn’t care. She never really worried about … prosaic things like that, and that’s what worries me. She was the stereotypical hipster artist, and because I loved her, for four years, I paid for the lifestyle. It didn’t bother me, John. It made me happy to see them thrive, to do and give beautiful things. I never kept a running tally, to my lawyer’s chagrin,” she said, giving him a half smile. “I understand how women can be. We’re not perfect. But as a bi woman, I’m a bit closer.” She winked.

“How so?” he said. She still held his hand loosely on her lap. Her thighs were like velvet.

“I was just joking. What I mean is, I’m straddling a fence and able to look at both sides, both physically and emotionally. Men complain that women are too emotional. Women complain that men don’t listen. And both are right, to a degree. But even if the complaints from both sides are similar, it’s still an individual problem.”

“Life with Mara was constantly walking on eggshells,” he said. “Anything I said, no matter how well-meaning, could end up upsetting her in some way. Still happens, honestly,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance.

She chose to ignore it. “I acknowledge what you said, but what if I told you that it was Mara’s insecurity, and not you, that caused all that misery? It wasn’t your fault.”

“How could such a beautiful woman be insecure? Either way, I tried to make it better the best way I could. With compliments, and kindness, and attention, and trips - I took her to bloody Bali. Paradise. And all she did was sulk in bikini for a week. She looked fucking beautiful, though.” He shook his head.

Connie smiled and bit her lip. She knew the feeling. Her and Ella’s last trip to Thailand had been much of the same - her trying to stay positive and pretend things weren’t falling apart, and Ella finding any excuse to go off by herself.

“Hey …” he squeezed her hand. “You’re gonna chew your lip off,” he said, and pressed his finger on her chin, dislodging it from her teeth. It was bruised and red.

“Did I say something stupid?” he said.

“No. Of course not,” she said. She sucked on her lip pensively. “Sometimes, that kindness and attention is what makes it worse.”

It was getting colder, and the fire was getting lower. He leaned into her and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Wait-” she said, stiffening.

“I’m sorry- it’s just, you’re shivering,” he said, but let her go. He took off his jacket and held it up. “Here. Put it on. Still warm.”

She opened her mouth to protest - something about preferring to freeze than wear his obnoxiously hip leather jacket - but instead, she accepted his gesture gracefully. She slid into it and sat down with a sigh. His scent surrounded her and made her smile. He smelled of … herbaceous green and the ghost of fresh cut wood. Despite the warmth, she got goosebumps.

“Thanks,” she said. His nipples poked through his thin cotton henley shirt. “Now you’re cold, though.”

He smiled and rubbed his chest. Pink rose to his cheeks above the beard. “It’s the price I pay for being a gentleman.”

“You did it on purpose,” she said, nudging him. “You wanted to show the world your goods.”

“The world’s not here,” he said. “Just you.”

His intense gaze made her heart race, but she laughed it off. Oh no. He’s not gonna do some MRA mind tricks on her.

“Okay, what is this? A three-step system to get any woman to bed?” she said. “Because it’s not gonna work on me, slick.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you going on about?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“You know - number one: engage her, and make her feel in control. Number 2: be vulnerable, and allow her to be vulnerable. Number three …” she stood up and started to walk around the patio, searching for the words,”...give her your jacket and make her feel safe. Yeah. Safe. I see you,” she said, nodding and smirking. “You’re not clever, hipster boy.”

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I’m very clever, but this is no ruse. I’m genuinely freezing my lads off right now.”

She took off the jacket. “Then here.” She held it up impatiently.

“I clearly said I would buy you a drink and leave you alone. You are the one who asked me to stay.”

“No I didn’t,” she said. Her arm was starting to burn. The jacket was heavy, but he didn’t take it back. She threw it on the bench and crossed her arms.

“Yes, you did. You asked me what I did for a living. I replied that to answer your question, I would have to remain. You said that this was a public space, and that you couldn’t put me out, implying consent to continuing the conversation.”

She sat down, still pouting. He resisted the urge to smile.

“You think I would say those private things just to get a woman into bed?” he said. “It’s not much of a show of strength, is it?”

She shivered. “Whatever. It’s just not gonna work on me.”

“I wasn’t trying to work you,” he said, and stood up. It stung that she thought the things he told her were just a means to an end. “You women are impossible. If we talk a big game, then we’re egotistical jerks. If we dare to be vulnerable, then we’re weak and revolting. This is why I gave up trying to please you lot. It’s so much easier to please myself - at least I know what I’m about.”

“Shocking revelation,” she said under her breath.

He groaned with frustration. “And things were going so well.”

“See! You were working me!” she said, pointing at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I was trying to get to know you - see what Liv sees. There is a massive fucking difference,” he said.

She faltered, but she refused to give up. “Why do you care what Liv sees, or feels anyway? You were an utter twat to her. She told me what you did at the park. You … barked a fake orgasm in public to humiliate her even more about what happened between you and Alex.”

“I didn’t really know her then, and I thought the whole thing was a weird lesbian sham. Sandwiches at the park? How civil,” he said. “Bollocks!”

“That’s how she is, though. Civil and kind and lovely,” she said. She didn’t know why her voice was up an octave.

“Well, I didn’t know that then,” he said, matching her volume. “I just thought she was the evil gatekeeper keeping me from who could be the actual love of my life.”

Her jaw dropped. “You loved Alex?” Livvie didn’t tell her that.

He rubbed his face. “I thought I did. I mean, I do, but then, I wanted her as well, for myself. Our drunk thing and what happened afterward felt like it was destined. And that little stunt at the park? I was jealous. Seething.”

“Fuck,” she said softly. “I am so confused.”

“So was I,” he said. “Trust me. Alex and I were drunk that night, but we weren’t …” he tried to find the right words, “... she wasn’t so gone that she didn’t know …” he sighed. She waited for him to finish.

“She was the one who pulled me up the stairs to bed,” he said. “She ripped my clothes-”

She held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear more. Suffice it to say, there was consent.”

“Because I knew that, I thought it meant that maybe there was a chance. That she might choose me. Especially after the baby.”

She sat down hard. Olivia had not told her that, and she knew why. It was weird. And painful. And awkward.

“But you had to know that Alex is a lesbian,” she said finally.

“Should I know? Because she sure didn’t fu-”

She held up her hand for silence again.

“I’m sorry. It felt weird sometimes, like she wanted me but was too afraid to say so for fear of being judged or something.”

“She did care for you, but more importantly, she needed you. She was pregnant, and frightened, and on the horns of a fearful dilemma - literally.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“No, you think I’m saying she wanted you … sexually. But she didn’t.”

“But she did.”

“She was drunk, and furious, and scared.”

“And really horny,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but friction is friction if you’re drunk enough,” she said. “You were there, and willing. She made do.”

He sat down beside her again. “And it hurt.”

“Slamming your dick up against a brick wall will do that,” she said.

“It made me feel used.”

“Welcome to the fucking club, kid,” she said. “She told you she’s gay. She introduces you to her girlfriend. You never see male overnight guests. Again … Wall. Cock.” She wished she had another drink to warm her. “You still have those feelings for her?”

“No,” he said. “I was so ecstatic about Josie that what was a just a pash blew up to something more. I wanted to love her. I absolutely did. She checked all the boxes - creative, beautiful, passionate - but I realized after losing the baby that we were more meant to be friends.”

“How convenient,” she said.

“Really. We’re very alike, in a lot of ways. Too much, honestly,” he said, chuckling. “That ever happen to you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “With Olivia,” she said.

“Exactly,” he said. “Although the circumstances were weird, I feel so lucky that Olivia, Alex, and I found each other. They changed my life,” he said.

“In myriad ways,” she said, smiling. She couldn’t imagine a life without Olivia.

He laughed softly beside her.

“What?” she said.

“Just thinking. Slamming my cock up against a brick wall. That’s choice.”

“It’s what you did, though. Al’s gay as fuck. Her words, not mine.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“I’m bi, remember?”

“But … you wanted to marry Ella.”

“And?”

“That’s pretty lesbian of you.”

“I loved her,” she said. “Ella could’ve easily been … Elton.”

“Fair warning though - he’s gay as fuck,” he said.

She chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Men and women are so different. I don’t understand how you could want both equally.”

“That’s what’s most amazing. The differences. It keeps things interesting.”

“But what if you’re with a woman, and you want to be with a man? What do you do?”

“Is it a committed monogamous relationship?”

"Let’s say yeah.”

“What any good person in a committed relationship does. Practice self-control. Bisexuality is not carte blanche to be a callous, greedy bastard.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You ever cheated?”

“This conversation is getting deeply personal again,” she said.

“Afraid to answer the question?” he said, raising his eyebrow.

“No! And no.”

“Never?” he said. “Not even a little kiss?”

“No,” she said, irritated. “I think it’s cowardly.”

“How?”

“You ever done it?” she asked, eyeing him.

“I asked the question first. Answer it, then I’ll answer you.”

“It’s cowardly because it’s the easy way out for a person who can’t muster up the bravery to tell their partner the difficult truth that they’re not happy. If they cheat, then it circumvents it completely. It’s like ‘Oops! I went outside the relationship. That’s gross, right? You hate me now, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out…’”

Her voice trembled.

“Spot on,” he said. “Mara didn’t even give me a chance to get angry, though. She didn’t care enough. It was like ‘I’ve been fucking someone else for a year, he makes me feel like a woman, I’ll send someone for my shit, goodbye’.”

The noise from the pub was quieting down. The fire was down to embers.

“I got the line ‘she makes me feel like my most authentic self’. What does that even mean?”

“It’s hipster speak for ‘makes me feel like a woman’,” he said, then let out a snort. She looked at him, thinking he might start crying again. But his face glowed with a smile.

“We’re quite a pair, you and I,” he said. “What a fucking pity party.”

“And worst of all, my glass is empty,” she said. “What time is it?”

He looked at his cell and laughed. “Fuck, it’s after 1 AM!”

“Really?” she said. “You’re telling me we’ve been here for nearly five hours? Impossible.”

He showed her the phone.

“Damn,” she said. “No wonder it’s so quiet in the pub.” She rubbed her nose pensively, something he noticed she did a lot.

“Has anyone told you how utterly charming you are when you’re angry?” he said. He tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear, brushing his knuckle gently along her cheek bone.

“No one who doesn’t want a bruise,” she said, but she smiled. She liked his touch. It was gentle and unassuming.

“Then I will say that you are very intimidating. You made me quake in my boots a couple times.”

She lifted her chin high and raised an eyebrow. “Good.”

“You’re so fucking adorable,” he said, shaking his head and smiling.

“Puppies are adorable,” she said. She meant to nudge him, but ended up leaning against him. He felt good.

“You’re right, I suppose,” he said, daring to wrap his arm around her waist. His touch was feather-light, but warm.”You are beautiful.” The way he said it made her look up at him and search his eyes. The swagger she saw earlier was gone. His gaze questioned, and she responded, tilting her head and giving him the slightest smile. He put his hand on her face. Her nipples hardened, although his touch was warm.

He kissed the side of her mouth first. The prickle of his beard made her giggle, but she put her hand on the back of his neck to guide him.

“I didn’t want to offend with the porn beard,” he whispered into her mouth. His lips were so maddeningly soft. The cold flew from her limbs, and it was replaced with desire.

“A little hair doesn’t bother me,” she said, and just as he pressed his lips to hers, someone came out and threw a bucket of dirty dish water on the embers of the fire.

The woman gave them a cursory glance. “We’re closing in 20 minutes,” she said, and left.

He stood up and held out his hand. “I guess that means it’s time to bugger off,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Didn't you drive here, though?” she said. She licked her bruised lip for a hint of a taste of him. Sadly, there was none.

“Yeah. But I’m just in the mood for a moonlit stroll,” he said. When she stood, he put his jacket over her shoulders again. “I can pick up my car tomorrow.”

He held his arm out gallantly, and she linked hers through it. It was a small town, so just beyond the high street, there was only silence and the yellow glow of the street lamps. When was the last time she had ever done this, with anyone?

Too long. And she forgot how good it was.

He bounced beside her, slowing his long-gaited walk to accommodate her.

“What are you so excited about?” she asked.

“I can’t wait for the party tomorrow! I hope Olivia likes her gift. It’s a trifle late, but then again, it took a while longer than I imagined to make.”

“Ooh, sounds interesting. Is it in your magic shop?” she said. They turned the corner, and his house was visible not too far off.

He walked in front of her and took her hands. “Would you like to see?” he said. His boyish energy was infectious. Although at first she thought it irritating, it was growing on her. It was nice being around someone like that, after years of Ella’s borderline soporific coolness.

“Sure,” she said. They were nearly running now. Just as soon as they turned into his front yard, a car engine roared to a stop nearby. In the street, a taxi unloaded two very familiar, very drunk women.

“Oh shit-” he ran toward the taxi, but he drove off, glad to be rid of them.

“Heya there, playboy,” the red head slurred, tripping over her feet and falling to the grass. As he tried to help her up, the blonde came up behind him and grabbed his crotch, hard. He dropped the redhead and held the blonde’s wrists firmly.

“Careful with the jewels, darling,” he said. He was pale with pain.

The redhead managed to get on her knees. She touched him too, but with gentler hands.

“Whoa!” he said, and pulled the woman to standing. She leered up at him, licking her lips.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” she said. “We’re here and ready to go-” she tried to hump his leg, but he held her at arm’s length. The lights from the neighbors across the street came on. He cursed underneath his breath.

He ran up to his door and opened it. “Just … get inside and keep quiet.”

“Don’t wanna give your fancy detached neighbors a show, eh?” the blonde said as she climbed the steps, lifting her skirt high. Her hot pink thong had little rhinestones on it. Just as soon as they went inside, he went to her. She stood in Olivia’s garden, arms crossed. She didn’t look mad, which made him even more nervous.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

“What are you doing here? It seems they’re primed and ready to have some fun,” she said. His kitchen window opened and the redhead stuck her head out.

“Oi! Get your ass over here, playboy,” she said. “And you can join us too, if you’re not shy,” she said, giving her a lascivious look.

“You got anything to drink in this place?” the blonde yelled from inside the kitchen.

“It really looks like you have your hands full. I’m gonna turn in,” Connie said, walking to the back door.

“Please, don’t leave me alone. I don’t want them in-” something crashed in the kitchen, “-I don’t want them in my house.”

“Then why did you invite them?” she said.

“I didn’t. Not really. We were flirting a bit, then you came into the bar … shit!” he slapped his forehead. “The business cards. They had my address.”

“Why?” she said.

“I work from home, remember?” he said. “I’m such an idiot.” An ominous thud came from the open window. When she looked, the two women were drunkenly making out. It was not a pretty sight. He gave them a despairing look and turned back to her.

“Help me get them out of my house,” he said, his face twisted in embarrassment.

“But it looks like they’ve already started without you,” she said. The redhead had pulled the blonde’s dress down and was licking her breasts. He groaned. “Please. I don’t want to … touch them.”

“You did earlier,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was going to make out with him just 20 minutes before.

“A lot has happened since then,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I swear this has never happened before.” The blond sat on the counter, and the redhead disappeared below the sill. “It’s just my luck it would happen tonight, of all the nights in my bloody life.”

“You should post the experience on your little site. The mouthbreathers will be really impressed.”

“I deserved that. You know what? I’ll take that, and more, if you help me this once. Please.” He looked miserable. “Use your angry powers for good.”

She rolled her eyes. He fell to his knees and grabbed her legs.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said, and stalked across his yard. The ladies jumped when she yanked the kitchen door open.

She clapped her hands. “Alright, ladies. As they say in America, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

The redhead came up from between the blonde’s legs and wiped her chin. “What are you like, his mum?” she said. “Where’s playboy?”

“Off somewhere calling you another taxi,” she said, loudly enough for him to hear from the garden. “Playboy. Do you even know his name?”

“Names don’t matter, do they?” the redhead said, but she pulled his business card from between her breasts. She squinted at it. “Fuck. Don’t have my contacts in-”

Connie took the card from her and crumpled it. “It doesn’t matter, right?” She pointed at the blonde. “Get yourself together and fuck off to the living room. You can wait for the taxi there, where I can’t see you,” she said, and walked back outside.

“Someone should be by in less than five minutes,” he said.

She made a face. “A taxi in less than five minutes?” That was a statistical impossibility where she came from.

“I know. But I promised to pay whoever got here first three times the going rate, plus tip,” he said.

That made a lot more sense.

“They’re not destroying things, are they?” he said.

“Oh my-” She ran back into his house. They were stuffing anything small they could get their hands on in their cheap purses - curios, CDs, and a little comic book figurine that looked expensive.

She darted into his foyer, where he had a proper English willow cricket bat and walked into the living room, bat held high.

“Empty your bags right now or I swear I will call the police and report a home invasion,” she said, her voice low with anger. “But that’s after I call an ambulance.” The women sized her up, and decided she wasn’t worth the risk - the crazy bitch might not be bluffing.

The redhead dropped the George Harrison CD in her hand. “Sure. Whatever. This stuff’s shit anyway,” she said, and started taking stuff out of her purse.

“No, boo. Empty your fucking purse on the carpet,” she said, pointing at her with the bat. “Both of you.”

They rolled their eyes and obeyed. The women had even stolen a wooden pepper grinder from the kitchen. Connie rolled her eyes as they put their meager belongings back into their bags and clutched them to their chests.

They looked at her with open resentment. “You ‘is bird er summat? The blonde said, going full Northern.

“I’m none of your goddamned business,” she said. The bat was still gripped tight in her hand. The taxi honked outside.”Alright, time to go,” she said, herding them through his front door. They stumbled to the vehicle, where John spoke with the driver.

He handed the man a couple of large notes. “Take them wherever they want to go,” he said. “There’s a bit extra there for clean up, just in case.” The man nodded.

“This wasn’t the ride you promised,” the redhead said petulantly.

“Sorry, love,” he said and walked to the sidewalk. The blonde opened the window and stuck two fingers out at Connie. The rude sound she made faded as the taxi drove away.

“Wow. It’s been quite an evening,” she said. “A rollercoaster of emotions.”

He kicked at the curb sheepishly. “Thanks for your help. I just didn’t want them to say that I’d touched them funny or yelled at them or something.” He looked at her and chuckled. “The bat looks good on you.”

“Oh,” she said. It was still slung over her shoulder. She handed it back to him. “I should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She rooted for the house keys in her pocket. Her heart was heavy. She wanted to be furious at him, but she wasn’t. She was just sad. He ran to the stoop.

“This was not how imagined tonight ending,” he said, hand over his heart. “I apologize if that upset you.”

“Is that what you want? To be a sex object to horny, faceless women? Is that the definition of being an alpha male?”

His genuine panic when the blonde grabbed at him made her curious.

“After years and years of being insulted and rejected, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Granted, that was a bit scary. Sometimes I don’t know my own magnetic charm,” he said, trying to get a laugh out of her. But she just patted his shoulder wearily.

“I need sleep,” she said.

His smile faltered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, er, later today.”

“Uhuh,” she said. He took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back, and closed the door.

Next Chapter

#That Woman Over There #you me and him #ymah #john helm #David Tennant #fan fiction #these two #the powers that be aren't making it easy

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ihorrorvixen · 6 years

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[Originally written almost two years ago & reposting because I still have so many thoughts & theories as to how this particular sequel could have been so much better while still using The Curse of the Thorn theory.] Thought on Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers Ok, so I have some thoughts about one of the sequels to my favorite horror movie franchises: Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. This sequel happens to be notorious for a lot of reasons, one of which being the only film in the franchise to have different versions of it; versions we’ve all seen by now. Years ago while perusing the web looking around for various things I somehow ended up stumbling on a few websites that brought up an alternate version to the theatrical version released in theaters. Talk about mind. blown. . .seriously. I had no idea until then that there were alternate scenes to one of the best sequels in the franchise, so needless to say, I went to work looking around for ways to find what is known as the producer’s cut. It took me years to be able to actually see it before purchasing my own copy but until then all I could hear was people saying how much better the producer’s cut was. When I finally saw it I understood what they were talking about. While I’ve always thought the theatrical version was badass, there were certain aspects that I never did like and there were other parts to the plot that were better explained in the producer's cut. Plus, the producer’s cut told many of us exactly why Dr. Loomis, played by Donald Pleasence, was screaming at the end of the film while the theatrical version kept us in the dark about that. I mean, was he screaming because he discovered Michael Myers had disappeared? Was he screaming because he suffered some kind of psychotic break after years of chasing Michael Myers for the sake of conquering evil? Was he screaming because alien pods somehow took over his body and the ring leader of the pod people was in fact Michael Myers? *cue dramatic music* No, he was screaming because the thorn symbol appeared on his wrist like the dark mark, indicating he was destined to lead the druid cult, taking over for Dr. Wynn. That was so dumb. I hated that with a passion. Anyway, it was satisfying seeing some of these questions answered in the producer’s cut or at least seeing it further explained in order to get a firmer grasp on it. Now, I want to get to what else I didn’t like about either version. The curse of the thorn theory explained exactly why Michael Myers became evil and began killing the members of his bloodline. I’m sure there are a lot of people who could care less about an explanation as to why he began killing as they saw him as “scarier” if there was no explanation whatsoever. But I’m different. Things are simply not more scary to me because something wasn’t revealed. In fact, I would like to see more of what makes a person like Michael Myers kill and why he seems to be invincible no matter how many times you kill him. And the curse of the thorn theory was brilliant. It explained a tradition in which druid priests would choose a child from a specific tribe and inflict this child with the curse for the sake of blood sacrifices on the night of samhain. I’m not Tommy Doyle. I don’t remember what was said word for word, but hey, you’ve seen the movie. You get the drift. This aspect of the curse of the thorn theory was good, as well as the portion where Tommy revealed in the producer’s cut that the evil could be canceled out by using runes of light, however, this should have been left as is. To me the plot was ruined by the inclusion of the druid cult, not to mention the fact that the leader of the cult was none other than Dr. Wynn, a former colleague of Dr. Loomis. . .really? Dr. Wynn? How. Fucking. Stupid. Was. That??? I have no idea what the writers were thinking when they came up with that aspect of the story but I’m just gonna say it -- it was fucking stupid. Sure, the curse of the thorn theory was a great explanation as to why Michael Myers became what he is, but it went too far with that stupid cult that included not just Dr. Wynn but most, if not all of the staff of Smiths Grove Sanitarium. It was also stupid how these “doctors" used their females patients for artificial insemination experiments to create the perfect evil offspring. Come on, now. Slow it down -- let’s rewind it a bit and go back to using non-ridiculous plot points. There was no need to bring in a stupid cult that turned out to be the equivalent of medical Charles Mansons. (seriously, I couldn’t think of a better analogy than that.) Even with the explanation regarding the thorn, a lot of that other shit could have been left out, thereby, still maintaining enough of that mystery that we all love. Don’t even get me started on that old nut, Mrs. Blankenship, who was supposedly babysitting “little Mikey Myers” when he heard “the voice” telling him to kill, which is the night he killed his sister, Judith Myers. Her character, while intriguing, did not need to be embedded that deeply within the story, either. Now, let me go in on the producer’s cut. The producer’s cut went a little further into the curse of the thorn theory and even included Dr. Wynn trying his best to persuade Dr. Loomis to join their cult. . . *head desk* Yeah. . .anyway, that’s not even the worst. It went beyond dumb when it was revealed Jamie Lloyd’s baby daddy was. . . . . .Michael Myers. *second head desk* Why. . . . . .WHY??? Fuc. King. Dumb. If those aspects that I just mentioned were eliminated and the entire curse of the thorn theory was executed in a much better -- entirely different -- way, the film would have been more of a success regardless of which version you’ve seen or prefer. Still, despite these dumbdified plot aspects it was still a good sequel. Ironically the Lord was truly with the makers of this film for it to have stupid plot points and plot holes and yet still be enjoyable to watch. More ironic is that it’s one of my favorite sequels of the franchise. But even being a favorite didn’t exempt it from having things about it I didn’t like. I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels this way. I still hate that Danielle Harris wasn’t in it as Jamie but I agree that if they were going to kill off her character so soon, or at all for that matter, I wouldn’t want to come back to do that sequel, either. So, there you go. I just wanted to talk a little bit more about my thoughts on this sequel. I spoke briefly about it in an older blog but I thought now was the time to write a more updated blog on it. I think I’ll write more thoughts on other sequels in the franchise, the remakes, fan fiction, as well as the new Halloween that will be produced by John Carpenter himself. Still ridiculously excited about that. Until next time, stay scared, fellow vixens. . . UPDATE - 11/15/16 I want to add something to this blog that I'd forgotten about before writing it, explaining in more depth the plot hole issues. I want to reiterate that Michael Myers began killing because he was inflicted with the curse of the evil rune, thorn, by the druid cult, who is also the majority of the staff at Smiths Grove Sanitarium. But what I want to know is why, as a little boy, would any druid cult want to inflict him with any curse in order to kill? When Tommy Doyle was explaining the origins of the curse, he also mentioned that a child from a specific tribe was chosen to be inflicted with the curse of the thorn to sacrifice members of their own family for the sake of saving many others in the tribe from sickness and death. To my knowledge there is no documentation presented in this portion of the plot that suggested any accuracy of the thorn's history, and therefore, isn't truly known if what these druid priests had done was based on fact (likely not) or their beliefs based on the myths about thorn. The only thing that attested to its truth was thorn appearing in a constellation of stars from time to time on Halloween night, which is about the same time Michael Myers came back to Haddonfield to kill. That's about the only thing that makes sense to me. And if you ask me I think this could have been incorporated within the story without that stupid cult. But what Tommy Doyle was referring to when explaining what the curse of the thorn signified was based on Celtic legend. And we all know legends are often based on nothing more than folklore. Which brings me back to the members of the druid cult. Because of the explanation in this particular sequel about the reason for Michael Myers' killing spree, it would stand to reason that this cult existed back in 1963 and caused him to fall under the influence of thorn when he first killed his sister, Judith. And that's where I can't help but wonder how this druid cult knew about Michael Myers in order to inflict him with this curse to begin with? And more importantly, why would they want to? I know they were into the whole evil thing but it still doesn't make sense. This cult inflicted Michael Myers with this evil rune for the sake of evil, so their motives are different than the motives of these ancient druid priests. Still, how did they know of this presumably innocent six year old boy to inflict him? And I ask again, why? Why do that to a six year old boy? One plot hole takes me to another plot hole, and then another, and so on. And I know I'm just doing useless rambling on a movie that's all in fiction, but I can't help but wonder, you know? There's so many ways the filmmakers went wrong when it came to the plot. Which is why I was saying that mentioning what influenced Michael Myers without involving this stupid druid cult led by Dr. Wynn would have been so much better than how it was executed. Hell, the more I attempt to explain this, the more confused I get so if you get confused I don't blame you. I can't tell you how much I wish I was in one of these movies, but more than that I would love to be part of the making of it. I hate the H20 sequel because they eliminated the Jamie Lloyd storyline, thereby, eliminating the curse of the thorn storyline. To me, it was just disrespectful and beyond stupid. So what I would love to do is a film in this franchise that brings back these storylines but do a sort of slight retcon that eliminates the druid cult while leaving the curse of thorn theory intact as best as possible. But that's a dream that might never come true. I've wanted to be in a Halloween film for years, so one day I hope I can work something out. We'll see.

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