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apolloloki97 · 3 years

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"Worthy of Him" Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

Summary: When Mickey comes across a handsome stranger, he doesn't realize it's the man who cheated on Ian when Mickey was locked up. Caleb is going to have quite a surprise when he meets the love of Ian's life. ---- Or when Mickey meets Caleb.

Word Count: 3076

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Fuckin' Perfect" by P!nk

Note: I just love when Mickey meets Ian's exes. Also, I get really happy when Mickey defends the Gallaghers!

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Mickey was on his way home when he heard a string of curses that even made him stop mid-strut on the sidewalk.

At the end of the block, a handsome black man was glaring at his car, his hands on his hips as he swore. Mickey knew that look, he himself had had a similar expression on his face more than once. Weighing his options, he considered just turning the other way and going the long way home, but there was something about the man that screamed “help me” and so Mickey decided to do just that.

Besides, the poor handsome bastard clearly didn’t belong on the Southside considering how well put together he was and the decent set of wheels he was glaring at. Approaching the man, Mickey tried to gauge what was wrong with the vehicle, but it seemed as if even the owner didn’t know. “Hey man,” Mickey greeted. “Wheels busted?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with it,” the man said with a sigh as he finally turned to look at Mickey. The latter didn’t miss how the stranger did a double-take, letting his eyes scan Mickey from head to toe. Since he had come out, Mickey had been noticing male attention pointed in his direction more frequently and he couldn’t deny that it made him feel damn good about himself. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, especially to Ian.

Jealous bastard, Mickey thought to himself with a smirk that the stranger before him seemed to notice immediately. Brushing off the bedroom eyes emanating from the other man, Mickey stepped towards the car. “Want me to take a look?” Mickey offered.

“Yeah, sure, thanks man,” the man said, gesturing for Mickey to move closer. Mickey leaned over the open hood of the car, his eyes scanning for anything outwardly wrong. As he bent over the car, the owner watched on with curiosity. “So, you a mechanic?”

“Nah,” Mickey said as he examined the battery. “My brother-in-law is. Taught me some shit,” Mickey explained. Lip had only begun to teach Mickey a bit about bikes after Mickey had helped him steal from Born Free. Mickey would never admit it to the older Gallagher brother, but he liked Lip a fair amount when he wasn’t being a total asshole. Lip was also important to Ian so Mickey made the sacrifice to “bond” with his brother-in-law whenever the occasion arose and graft theft auto just happened to be one of those occasions.

“So, you’re just in the habit of helping strangers when their car breaks down?” the man said. Mickey scoffed as he shrugged.

“Only when it breaks down on the Southside and the owner ain’t belong,” Mickey said.

“Who says I’m not Southside?” the man said playfully. Straightening up slightly, Mickey looked over at him with a knowing look.

“Trust me, I can tell,” Mickey said. Stepping back, Mickey crouched down to get a look at the grill in case anything was stuck when the bottom of his pant leg rode up slightly, exposing the holster he had strapped to his ankle along with the .22 he kept on him at all times. Iggy called it a “pussy gun”, but with being on parole, Mickey couldn’t risk always carrying his larger piece and he was still paranoid that the cartel would catch up with him eventually. The owner of the car noticed it immediately, his brows rising.

“You a cop or something?” he asked, gesturing to the exposed holster. Mickey glanced down at the hardware Carl had given him before covering it back up again. He looked up at the stranger with a raised brow.

“Not exactly,” Mickey said, disgusted to be even considered to be compared to a pig.

“Right,” the man said.

“What?” Mickey asked as he stood up, leaning against the car. “Are you a cop? Gonna fuckin’ bust me for this?” he asked.

“I fight fires, not Southside thugs,” he said with a wink and Mickey laughed quickly before turning back to his task. It didn’t take him long to notice the coolant leak in the hose.

“You’re gonna need to take this to a shop, man,” Mickey said. “You got a leak here,” he said, pointing to the hose. The man approached him, getting closer to Mickey to get a better look. Mickey rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was ready to shove his wedding ring up the man’s nose when his phone rang. Knowing who it was, Mickey ignored it.

Ian had been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now. Mickey knew it was because Debbie had pissed his husband off again, but he had no interest in dealing with Ginger-Gallagher drama at the moment. Ian called again shortly after the first call, the shrill of the phone in his pocket permeating the tension that was radiating off the handsome stranger next to him.

“Wife?” the man asked, gesturing to Mickey’s pocket and the obvious ignoring of the calls. Mickey then realized that the stranger had seen the ring on his left hand and just ignored it. Bastard, Mickey thought.

“Husband,” Mickey corrected, always thrilled to do so these days. It wasn’t necessarily because he was proud to be a gay man, he was just incredibly proud to be Ian Gallagher’s husband. He’d tattoo it on his forehead if he hadn’t already gotten a dumbass tattoo for his husband back when he was first locked up in the joint.

“Ignoring him?” the man pressed and Mickey was starting to become more annoyed than flattered at the forwardness of the stranger.

“Just his family drama,” Mickey said, not sure why he was telling this man anything. Then again, bitching about the Gallaghers was something that just happened no matter who you were talking to. Mickey could remember the time before he was with Ian and he would hear everyone in the community talking about how messed up the Gallaghers were. Being a Milkovich, he never thought any other family could be more dysfunctional. When he finally fell for Ian and became more familiar with the inner workings of the Gallagher family, he finally understood the chaos that everyone else saw. However, that chaos was something that he had gone on to love greatly.

They were his family.

“Yeah, that shit’s never easy, man,” the man said.

“What shit?” Mickey asked, trying to see where the stranger was getting at.

“Just that I’ve dated the crazy ones before and the baggage of their family is never worth it. No matter how good of a fuck they are,” the man said and Mickey raised his brows.

“Classy,” Mickey said with a roll of his eyes. Clearly, the man realized he had hit a nerve and was trying to backtrack when a loud shout echoed from up the street. Mickey turned just in time to see Frank stumbling out of a bar that clearly wasn’t the Alibi as the owner yelled at him. Frank, who was already drunk enough to forget where he lived, shouted obscenities back at the bar, shoving his middle fingers to the sky before falling over. “Fucking Frank…” Mickey said, exasperated.

Even before they were married, Mickey had joined in on the “find Frank” game and had had his fill of finding the drunk passed out under bridges and in sewers to last a lifetime. While he didn’t care what happened to the deadbeat, he knew that Liam and Franny would, which is why he tended to try to keep Frank from ending up in the morgue when he could.

“Seems like everyone around here knows Frank Gallagher, huh?” the stranger said, leaning against his dormant car. His arms were crossed, accentuating the forearm muscles that were hidden under the long sleeve shirt he wore. The man laughed as he saw Frank try to get to his feet but failed. Mickey cringed as Frank stumbled again, crashing into a stack of trash cans.

“Fuck,” Mickey said, knowing he was going to have to do damage control with his niece when her grandfather came home looking like he slept in a dumpster. “That’s my fuckin’ cue,” Mickey said, pushing off the side of the car.

“You all take turns looking after the city drunk, huh?” the man asked, amused by Mickey’s distaste for the derelict.

“No,” Mickey said with a sigh, “just those of us who are unfortunately his fucking family.” This seemed to shock the stranger.

“Family?” the man echoed.

“He’s my father-in-law,” Mickey said and then paused, “sort of…” Mickey was never sure what exactly Ian saw Frank as. He knew that Frank was not his biological father, but he was also the only father Ian had ever known. Regardless, Mickey was now tied to the man forever. Just as Mickey was about to pull his phone out to call Sandy to come and help him with Frank Pick-Up, the stranger said something to make him pause.

“ You married a Gallagher ?” the man said, his voice holding a hint of disbelief.

“The fuck you gotta say it like that for?” Mickey said, ready to defend his family to the man. “Yeah, I married a goddamn Gallagher, so what?”

“Which one?” the man asked and Mickey looked at him as if he was a moron.

“What do you mean, ‘which one’? There’s only one fucking gay one,” Mickey said with a scoff.

“Ian?” the man asked. “You’re Ian’s husband?” Mickey was starting to get pissed off at this man’s tone and he was really starting to regret even offering to help him.

“I’m sorry, I think I missed a few episodes, here,” Mickey said, “Who the fuck are you and how do you know Ian?” The man hesitated for a second before answering. Mickey waited.

“I’m Caleb,” the man said. “Ian and I used to date.” Mickey didn’t need more than a second to recognize the name. Ian had told Mickey all about his rebound firefighter. Mickey knew that Ian wasn’t going to stay single while he was locked away. Mickey was just glad that Ian wasn’t screwing old men. Hell, he had even thought that the Trevor guy seemed great, but Caleb was someone that Mickey had hated the second Ian began talking about him. Then, when Lip had told him that he and Ian had witnessed Caleb cheating on Ian with some woman, Mickey hated him even more.

Lowering his head slightly, Mickey finally took a moment to size up the firefighter. Caleb was big and Mickey knew that those arms would pack a wallop if Caleb decided to start a fight, but Mickey also knew that he was craftier and if it came down to it, Ian’s ex would be on his way to the hospital very soon.

“Oh, you’re Caleb,” Mickey finally said, staring him down. “The fucker who cheated on him with some bitch and claimed it didn’t matter because she didn’t have a cock.” Caleb seemed perturbed by that but quickly composed his face despite the crassness coming from the other man.

“And you are…”

“Mickey Milkovich,” Mickey said, just daring Caleb to say something else stupid.

Which he did.

“Ah, Mickey,” Caleb said. “The abusive boy toy.” Mickey stopped for a second, wanting to punch Caleb in his perfect face.

“Abusive…” Mickey echoed, not liking the accusatory tone in Caleb’s voice.

“Ian told me all about how you used to beat on him before screwing him like he was your bitch,” Caleb said and Mickey could hear the anger in his voice. Mickey knew that Ian had been hurt after a lot of their arguments. The worse one being when Mickey had beat him up after the Terry incident. Mickey had never felt more horrible in his entire life than when he had done that. Even now, he tried to make up for it even if Ian said that he had already forgiven him. The thing was, Mickey had never forgiven himself for the beating he had given Ian in that gravel lot.

However, hearing that Ian had called him abusive, especially to someone like Caleb, just made Mickey more pissed off. Not necessarily at Ian, but more at the situation as a whole. This was who Ian felt the need to run to after their break up and regardless of how attractive the firefighter was, Caleb had no idea who he was speaking to.

“He did, did he?” Mickey said and Caleb nodded, acting as if he had Milkovich all figured out. “Right, well did he also tell you that the first time we banged, he threatened my ass and tried to beat me with a tire iron?” Mickey asked, spotting the exact tool on the ground next to the rest of the tools Caleb had hauled out. Ignoring the little voice in his head that sounded a lot like his parole officer, Mickey reached down and picked up the iron. “Sort of like this,” he said before taking a swing at Caleb’s windshield, shattering it.

“Fuck!” Caleb exclaimed. Mickey followed up by taking off one of the side mirrors before swinging the iron into Caleb’s face, causing the other man to stumble back.

“Get the fuck off the Southside or next time I’ll hit something other than your fucking car,” Mickey threatened. Caleb was wary of him but didn’t back down.

“You don’t deserve him,” Caleb said and Mickey’s eye twitched for a second before composing himself. It wasn’t news to him that people didn’t think Mickey was good enough for Ian, but he didn’t need to hear it from someone like Caleb.

“You don’t know shit about him or me,” Mickey said. “If you did then you wouldn’t fucking test me.” Caleb stared down at Mickey, but the latter wasn’t backing down. He would go back to jail before he let some asshole ex of Ian’s make him feel unworthy of the man he loved.

When Caleb went to retort, his attention was pulled by a police SUV rolling up to them and Caleb’s smashed car. Mickey didn’t move and he didn’t drop the tire iron as Caleb turned to the cop. “Officer, maybe you could arrest this man for threatening me and damaging my property,” Caleb said, glaring over at Mickey again.

“Mickey?” the cop said and Mickey finally looked over at the man in the front seat of the SUV. He recognized him immediately.

“Arthur!” Mickey greeted with a grin.

“Hey man!” Officer Arthur Tipping said, offering his fist to Mickey who happily tapped it with his own.

“You know him?” Caleb said as Mickey grinned at him.

“He’s my partner’s brother-in-law,” Tipping said with a goofy grin on his face. Mickey liked Carl’s partner because the man was the definition of a loveable idiot. Plus, he always turned the other way when a Gallagher was involved.

“Yeah, Carl’s a cop now, asshole,” Mickey said to Caleb. “Good luck filing a complaint or pressing charges, dick.” Caleb was fuming as he started towards Mickey.

“Woah there, bud,” Tipping said. “You might want to take a few steps back.” Caleb stopped and did as the officer said, but not without sending a death glare towards Mickey. “Need a ride home, Mr. Milkovich-Gallagher?” Tipping asked.

“That would be great, Arthur,” Mickey said with a grin as he tossed the tire iron aside. He looked at Caleb once more and then casually walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You come near my husband and I will make sure that nobody ever finds your body,” Mickey said sweetly before leaving Caleb on the curb and hopping into the front seat of the squad vehicle. Mickey flipped Caleb off as Tipping drove away. Caleb just swore and lashed out at his car.

Mickey relaxed in the car before sighing. “Shit, pull over here for a second man,” he said and Tipping pulled over. Mickey then got out of the car and pulled open the back door before crouching over a half-conscious Frank. “Fucking Gallaghers,” he said as he hauled his father-in-law into the back of the squad car and Tipping took him home while Frank snored in the backseat.

When Mickey finally got home and deposited Frank on the floor in the living room, he went in search of his husband. He found Ian in the kitchen, finishing up some dishes. “Hey, you,” Ian said as he spotted his husband walking into the room. Mickey smiled at him. Ian grabbed the back of his head and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s lips, savoring the taste and feel of his husband.

Mickey kissed him back, but Ian could tell it was less enthusiastic than usual. Pulling back, he furrowed his brow at the man in his arms. “What?” Mickey asked.

“You good?” Ian asked.

“Long day,” Mickey said with a dismissive wave. Ian didn’t look convinced so Mickey pulled him back to him, kissing him deeply. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, holding him tightly. Mickey sighed into Ian’s mouth, content to be with him after the shit he had dealt with that afternoon.

When Ian pulled back again, he leaned his forehead against Mickey’s, running his hands down his arms. Mickey looked up at him, Ian’s green eyes looking stunning in the low light of the Gallagher kitchen. Everything Caleb had said to him was coming back and he hated that he was letting it get to him. He loved Ian and he knew that Ian loved him, but there would always be that part of him that felt unworthy of Ian’s love.

Ian, being Ian, noticed the look in Mickey’s eyes. Self-doubt was not something Mickey hid very well. Reaching up to cup Mickey’s face in his palm, Ian gently rubbed his thumb along his husband’s face. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Ian whispered.

Mickey slid his hands up to Ian’s shoulder, always loving how much taller his husband was. With a breath, Mickey inhaled the scent of his love and then smiled softly. “You just...were you,” Mickey answered simply. Ian mirrored the soft expression as he leaned into Mickey once again.

“I love you,” Ian said against Mickey’s lips.

“I love you too, Gallagher,” Mickey said before pressing his lips against Ian’s, falling into complete bliss and knowing one thing for sure: Ian and he deserved each other and nobody was going to tell him differently.

#Gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless fic #shameless fanfiction #shamless

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gamma-gal-24 · 3 years

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okay. I had shower thoughts about River's background and family History.

because yes.

Let's start with their family back in Wales, especially, the farm they grew up on. It was in their family for many generations, and they didn't have a lot of money, but they did well.

their grandmother and grandfather met in the military, their grandmother (gram) was a nurse and their grandfather (Taid, something Welsh people say for grandfather) was a Captain. A few years forward they had River's mom who I think I'll call Mari, a common Welsh name. Mari went to college as an photography major and met River's dad who was studying to be an Entomologist (which sprouted River's love for bugs).

They inherited the farm from River's Taid and started a relatively well photography business. Then, they had the first batch of twins, Ram and Caden. Caden is the more Easy going and fun of the two, Ram being more serious. They didn't have enough money for college, so they went through the military.

Then came the triplets, Arywn, Broderick and Griffin. Arywn came out as gay at 16 and went to open a bar at 26, Broderick a teacher and Griffin a firefighter.

Then the twin girls, Catrin and Ayls. Catrin went to help more on the farm while Ayls became a double major in nursing and fashion.

Then, we come to the youngest, smallest and possibly the most active as a baby, our favorite demigirl River.

Like I said, River loves bugs and just loves helping around the farm. They did develop a fear of roosters after one attacked them. River has a collection of pinned butterflies and other bugs, and can list every type of spider to most docile to most aggressive. Their father died when they were 15, and that inspired them to continue his pasion as well as theirs to become a comic book artist (they read a lot because of their brothers) as well as an Entomologist...often times spreading themselves too thin and their amazing, loving boyfriend Bradley comforting them and reminding them to take breaks.

Also River compared to their brothers.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

And I thought I had a full house! XD

These are some AWESOME details here, and I think it's super cool thay you found a way to connect everything! Way past cool!✨👌😎

Also, that picture at the end cracks me up. XD

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mickeyisak · 4 years

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black and white

(Or, the one where I fix the end of 3x16.)

read on ao3

Love is complicated. Everyone knew that. Travis knew that. He'd been in love more than a few times, and he knew what being in love felt like. It was the calm in the middle of a storm, it was warm blankets while snow (or rain, in Seattle's case) fell outside, it was the late morning sun falling over tan skin in bed, it was sacrifice. Every love is different, Travis learned throughout his life, with every passing partner.

The first time Travis fell in love, he was 19, in his freshman year of college, the first time he felt safe enough to truly be himself. He met a guy in his Intro to Psychology class, second semester. They sat next to each other on the first day, the entire lecture hall packed, every chair full. Throughout the semester the class got emptier, and more seats cleared out, but Travis still sat next to Matt, every Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Matt was cute, a senior in an entry level Psych class, getting his final Arts & Humanities credit out of the way. And he was terrible. He always told Travis how bad his exam scores were, how he never understood the things the professor was saying, or his own notes.

In mid February, a few weeks before midterms, Travis offered to help him study. Travis was surprisingly good at Psych, despite not really caring about the class itself. It was a Saturday night when Travis showed up outside Matt's apartment with his Psych book and notes in his backpack. They studied for a little while, Matt finding ways to scoot closer to Travis every few minutes. Eventually, they both ended up naked in Matt's bed. Travis thought he might've fallen in love when he woke up the next morning to muscular arms wrapped around him. They continued the same routine every few days, and surprisingly, somehow, Matt got a bit better at Psychology. Travis only told Matt his feelings when Matt was fast asleep, snoring and drooling into his pillow. They ended things when Matt graduated, and moved to Portland. Travis knew it was coming, and he moved on fairly easily, but it hurt.

Travis fell in love again the summer before his senior year of college, he studied all summer in Barcelona. He tried to perfect his Spanish, knowing it would help him when he became a firefighter. He met Alex at a gay bar in early June, not long after he arrived. They went home together that night, and almost every night after that. They both knew it would end when summer did, but Travis fell in love anyway. And he fell fast. By August, he was in love. He told Alex he loved him the last time they saw each other before Travis returned to the States. Alex said the same. They remained friends for a while, before losing touch. It was for the best, Travis isn’t good at remaining friends with people he’s loved.

Travis met the love of his life at 23, fresh out of college, in the Fire Academy. Michael was, is, the best thing that ever happened to him. Travis doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but with Michael, he thinks that was the best way to describe it. He swore he was going to marry him, from the minute they met. Two years later, he was proved right. He and Michael were soulmates, he loved the men before, but his love with Michael was different. Gentle, soft, grounding.

He and Michael weren’t perfect, technically. They fought, usually over stupid stuff. They weren’t perfect, but it was perfect. Travis was ready to spend the rest of his life cooking for his husband, because Michael was terrible, and couldn’t make anything other than Kraft Mac n’ Cheese and spaghetti with Prego sauce. Working with your spouse is supposedly forbidden, if you want the marriage to last. But Travis and Michael drove to work together every shift, slept side-by-side in the awful twin bunks at the station, ate breakfast at the beanery table, just as they would at home. Travis was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

Until he wasn’t.

Travis remembers every movement he made that day. Michael went out on his call, a fire in an apartment building. It was supposed to be easy, in and out, a grease fire. But the fire grew, and moved to the neighboring units. The building was built terribly, and the roof collapsed with Michael inside. The Captain knew the building wasn’t structurally sound, and he should’ve pulled the team out.

Travis remembers the rig pulling back into the barn, and Michael not in it. He remembers the feeling of his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He remembers the Captain's voice telling him what happened, in the detached voice they were all trained to use when delivering bad news. He remembers the soft condolences at his line of duty funeral. He remembers sleeping in a empty, cold bed for the first time in six years. He remembers everything. Even if he wanted to forget.

So, love is complicated. When you go through what Travis has, love is complicated. So when he realises Emmett is falling in love with him, he knows he should stop. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t love Emmett, but he continues sleeping with him anyway. To be fair, Emmett’s been saying he thinks he loves him since he was still with Alicia, but Travis knows he means it now.

Emmett tells him he thinks he’s in love for real the first time in bed. They finished having sex a while ago, then laid in bed together, their breaths slowing. Emmett must have thought Travis had fallen asleep, because he softly whispers the words into the dark. Travis knew he should of ended it right there, but he does genuinely like Emmett, and he’s selfish, so he doesn’t.

It happens a second time in the showers of the station a few weeks later, after it’s announced that Emmett’s engaged to Alicia. Travis gets angry, or angrier, because he’s already angry that Emmett’s engaged to a woman he’s cheated on multiple times, and angry that he has feelings for someone that can do that to another person. So Travis tells him, he doesn’t love him or her, because you don’t do that to someone you love.

It’s brought up again when the team is partying on Dean’s houseboat. Emmett’s drunk, so is Travis, but Travis knows how to control his mouth when he’s intoxicated. They’re all having a good time, just partying and not worrying about work. They’re dancing together, Emmett is really cute like this; Bouncy, happy, drunk. It’s nice to see him being his true self. “I think I love you!” Emmett shouts over the pounding music, his eyes drooping with intoxication.

Travis just grabs his face and kisses him to shut him up. The way Emmett looks at him when they pull away tugs at his heart. “I can’t hear you!” he lies in return.

The team decides to hang out again after the bomb call at Pac North. Emmett pulls Travis outside, and Travis knows what’s coming. Emmett takes a deep breath before speaking. “Look, I know I have a lot to learn about... pretty much everything.” he smiles. “But you got me here. And I owe you so much. I admire you so much. And... I’m so grateful for you, Travis.”

Travis speaks up. “No, you did this, Emmett.” He did, he was brave, Travis didn’t do anything, this was all Emmett.

“No, I couldn’t have done this without you.” Emmett interjects, and places a hand on Travis’ arm. “I love you.” he tells him. His blue eyes are shining, flicking in between Travis’ own. Emmett kisses him, and Travis lets him, kisses him back even, but he has to let him know, so he pulls away.

Emmett’s eyes are still looking at him with love, and it kills Travis that he’s about to ruin it. “I am really happy for you, you know. For how far you’ve come, for all this life that you have ahead of you. And I am really sorry...” he takes a deep breath. “That I don’t love you back. He watches Emmett’s face fall, watches his eyes go from shining with love to shining with tears.

Emmett just nods and kisses him one last time, before walking away. “Yeah, me too.”

Travis thinks for a split second, before speaking up. “Emmett.”

Emmett stops and turns. “What, Travis?” The way he looks at him hurts. He did that.

“I was married.” he starts, preparing himself for what he’s about to retell. Emmett’s brow furrows in confusion. Travis sits down in one of the chairs outside of the window. Emmett follows. “A while ago, I had a husband. Uh, his name was Michael. He... was... uh. Well, he was a terrible cook, a giant Seahawks fan... and he was a firefighter.” Emmett’s head snaps up and meets Travis’ eyes. “He was, is, the love of my life. And he... died, in the line of duty. About four years ago.”

“Travis, I- I didn’t know.”

“Saying ‘I love you’ isn’t that easy for me... because the last person I said it to, was... him. It’s been four years, and I’ve gotten used to the empty place in my bed where he used to be, and I took my ring off, but I don’t know if another person will ever compare to him. And... it takes time to recover from losing someone you love. A long time. And I’m not there yet. So, no, I don’t love you back.” Emmett drops his head. “But that doesn’t mean I never will. And it doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be with you.” He reaches over and grabs Emmett’s hands. “I like you, Emmett, a lot, actually. A lot more than I thought I would.” Emmett smiles a bit at that. “And just because I don’t love you now, doesn’t mean I want to end this. Okay?” Emmett nods. “So now it’s up to you, probie. Where do you want to go from here?”

Emmett doesn’t say anything, just leans across the table in between their chairs and kisses him. Travis kisses him back, relieved. When they break apart, Emmett pulls Travis into a hug. Travis buries his face in Emmett’s neck, and they sit like that for awhile, Emmett running his fingers up and down Travis’ back, comforting him. Travis welcomes the serenity: Emmett’s cologne, or pheromones, or both, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat, the soft scratch of Emmett’s fingers tracing circles and shapes on his back.

And, yeah, he can fall in love with this.

#travis montgomery #emmett dixon #station 19 #tremmett #travis x emmett

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fotiathymos · 4 years

Note

I liked your headcanon backstory for Lio, when you have the time would you share your idea for Galo's?

Galo's story time! According to random thoughts that occur in my brain to make me upset at night!

Once again, thank you for the interest. And I guess it comes off that I enjoy writing so I hope you enjoy reading. Even when its said. >.> I'd love to discuss with people their ideas still. And once again again... its LONG.

TW emotional abuse, parental death, small racism mention, transphobia mention, bullying, self harm via over working, and again I apologize if I miss anything.

Galo's parents were city dwelling young teens that fell in love and got married months later after dating at barely 19 years old. And it was rough.

His mother was loud, out spoken, take no bullshit kind of girl. She grew up all her life in Promepolis, poor and dirty. She'd get drunk at gay bars, fight with her parents, make out with random people and claimed it was living life to the fullest and if you can't handle that then you are just a prude!

His father recently moved into the city with his father (Galo's grandfather). They lost their home and was moved to Promepolis' shelter.

The recent events of the World Blaze caused many people to be displaced and homeless across the world. And welcoming new comers in the city scared the locals, what if they were Burnish? But with a majority of livable land reduced to deserts, people had to go somewhere.

Galo's father was training to be museum curator assistant. He was well versed in many cultures histories, educated, introverted and always got his way through social interactions via jokes. Upon arriving to the city he was currently jobless, the museum and city he previously called home was burned to the ground. His father was his only family and unfortunately wasn't handling old age well.

Sort of an opposites attract but 'were not so different, you an I' way. They met through friends of a friend. Galo's father wasn't fond of clubs but went anyway. She made him let loose for once in his life and he fell head over heels for her. They connected real fast. They were just 19 and impulsive, but it worked out in the end sorta, and decided if the world is this sucky lets just get married right away.

The reason why Galo was never taken in by any other family members was because 1. Galo's father only had Galo's grandfather, who was living in a home for his health. and 2. Galo's mother was disowned by her parents after hitching up with Galo's dad. She was from a large Italian family. Tight knit. They disapproved of her not dating or marrying an Italian boy from the city. She married a Japanese man. They excommunicated her from the family. Even when Galo was born they refused to see him.

Galo was their 'miracle child'. Kind of playing off how in the movie he was always is in such danger he should've died, it was a miracle Galo was born! His mother went through unfortunate miscarriages before she suddenly had Galo. And even then he was born premature and was held in the hospital on and off for the first 3 years of his life. And he survived! He was their miracle.

The family mostly lived a quiet life. Working multiple jobs in a shitty city apartment, caring for an elderly man and a small child. They knew of the politics and horrors going on in the world but they had no time to think of it. They were just trying to survive day by day. They had no outside support. They had friends but even then, they were busy too. There were fights about money, who is staying home with Galo, why don't we have any food in the fridge, whose taking him to school. They made a rule to never fight in front of Galo but kids still felt tension.

Galo didn't quite know he was different from other kids. He just felt.. wrong. It was discovered he was a boy early on though. Really, his parents had suspicions. Galo would hate being referred to as girly, lived for the idea of tomboy. Even when it conflicted with things he did like, like dolls and dresses. The moment someone said he was a pretty girl in that dress, he threw out the dress, tore it to pieces. He would get irritable when people used words and terms for him he didn't decide for himself. He only ever wore his dresses at home, played with dolls at home. At school he begged to wear baseball t-shirts, have robot notebooks, he'd point to anything in the boys section without much care to what it was, as long as it made him appear 'boy' to the world. His parents sat him down to talk about all this. When it all clicked that their child was transgender, they did all they could to make his life easier. They poured their money into puberty blockers for the time being. Before any further steps would happen.

Galo was bullied heavily at school. He was the 'weird' kid. The 'ugly girl', the 'freak'. Even to teachers who were asked to respect him, they just found him to be a 'troublemaker'. Never paying attention in class, always fidgeting, he'd talk too loud, always asking to go to the bathroom.

'Look at adults when youre talking to them.' 'Stop drawing and pay attention.'

He'd try to go by the rules but the rules always didn't make sense to him. Gender was confusing but school was even more confusing. He was always frustrated. All his attempts at fitting in were hit by walls. No one seemed to understand him. Kids stepped all over him, stealing any cool pencils or books he had. His back pack thrown across the school yard.

And just as his parents hid their worried and hard life from him, he made sure to not worry them about his own struggles.

When the fire happened Galo was around 13 year old. Galo was in bed. There were suddenly flames everywhere and his instincts made him run to his parents room. His mother was trapped inside the bedroom, his father outside. Galo was told to make a quick exit out of the house on his own. And in a panic he fled out the front door and into the worst possible human being.

Everything was pretty much a blur. Galo fell hard into shock when his parents weren't coming out of the building. He honestly was clinging to anything nearby to just.. hold something.. feel something. It just happened to be Kray Foresight.

The news was on the scene and sirens were blaring and Galo was anywhere but on earth in that moment. He was placed in an ambulance with a shock blanket, Kray sat beside him, muttering to himself. The only words Galo caught were something along the lines of ‘how unexpected the world gives things.’

In Kray's world, his sudden fame gave his sabotage and manipulate plan more speed. In Galo's world. Before he could even start his life, it ended.

Galo was sent to live in foster care. His Grandfather unable to support him. Galo got heavy into history when visiting his grandfather. The man had Galo's father history books in storage and Galo was instantly pulled in. Especially in his father's culture which he never got to learn much about. He discovered the history of Hikeshi through the books and it became his biggest interest. some foster care nurses were worried about him getting into firefighting history after suffering from a fire.

Galo would also visit a reluctant Kray very often. The media always ate it up. Kray would pose for pictures and Galo loved the attention. A break from thinking anything bad, he could run around a large empty office while Kray was on calls. Okay, maybe, sometimes he'd get yelled at for being too loud. And Kray would kick him out of the room. But thats just cause he was busy! Galo would talk and talk and talk to Kray about the new things he read in his books, he'd even bring by the books some days! His back pack full. It has to do with firefighting! Kray is working on ways to help prevent burnish fires! Kray would so be interested in Galo's research! So he'd spread out all the books all over Krays desk. Kray would let in some tv people during Galo's visits, maybe so they could see how even Galo, a kid, can be working so hard for a better world!

Galo would notice how different Kray got when it was just them two. Kray would mutter under his breath a lot. Stress from the job probably. Krays outbursts toward Galo only happened when they were alone. clearly Galo was being a bother to him. Kray was a busy man. Galo wasn't helping as much as he should be for Kray. Galo started being more quiet during his visits. He went from jumping around to sitting in the corner of the room, watching Kray work, till he was yelled at to stop staring. Galo would pace the Foundations halls, people watching. How they acted and how he could do the same to impress Kray finally. Show he isn't a kid anymore. That he’s normal.

But Kray wasn't always so stressed out with Galo, sometimes he'd pat Galo's head, buy him a new clothes and video games, have someone drive him back to the foster home in a big fancy car. And one day Kray even started noticing how interested Galo was in firefighting! He even offered to pay for schooling!

Galo hated the foster home system. Instead of dealing with his problems he ran away. He'd run to Kray's office. To visit his grandfather. Just mindlessly wander the city. Being an older child with trauma, adoption wasn't really on his plate. Ageing out seemed to be his only option. But no one ever wanted to just tell him that was the case. Giving false hopes for a better life.

Being bullied in school was easy compared to being bullied by other foster kids. They all hated Galo for being Krays 'favorite'. Galo was given a special room because Kray paid for it. Galo was bought clothes and video games and taken on drives in fancy cars! It was common for Galo to come back to his bedroom trashed. The first Matoi made out of card board and scrap fabric... suddenly found burning in the buildings front yard.

Galo would try and try and try to fit in. To be accepted. To have friends. So he started letting other kids come join him in the fancy car rides. He'd give others his clothes, pretending they were gifts. He'd help others by doing their chores. And suddenly everyone needed Galo.

When Galo's grandfather passed on due to old age. Galo felt more hopeless. His Grandfather was having memory issues in his old age, so Galo visited less, he could handle being mistaken for his mother, or asked who he even was. Galo felt so useless. And then the last piece of his family died and he, once again, was useless.

He was 16years old now. And felt so very stuck. As he was getting closer and closer to aging out of the system Galo was slowly accepting he had his own dreams of being a firefighter now. To help people who befell such a horrible situation that he himself suffered. He also wanted to impress Kray with his studies and maturity. He got to work. He got a job at the foster home, secretly got a front desk job at the Foundation, did small odd jobs around the city. All at 16-17. 18 years old was moving closer and closer. He wouldn’t eat or sleep and his body would ache everyday. But. He didn't want to be stuck and be useless.

Galo wanted to talk to Kray about helping him with top surgery. After the fire he got off puberty blockers, and after many many therapy sessions with the foster homes nurse did he start hormone replacement therapy. He honestly thought Kray already knew Galo wasn't cis from when he was 13 years old. But it seems he keeps forgetting. Kray was told about it by a nurse but he didn't mention it again. So Kray must not care that Galo was trans! He'd surely be excited and proud when he finds out how hard Galo worked up the money and how mature he was for all his research.

Kray was livid.

Calling Galo impulsive as always. Galo was working 2 years on this, and was researching for even longer. But.. I guess it was still 'impulsive' of him. Kray said it was too huge a thing to do to ones body. Galo understood that. Does that mean he can't go through with it? Yes, it was a big change but thats what Galo wanted. Kray just stated the obvious. Galo just wanted support for it. Galo explained as calmly as he could to Kray. Kray didn't seem to budge. Galo was too nervous about doing it without Kray's support. So he just sulked for months. Til one day, Kray said he found a surgeon. And Galo was elated! The news the next day had a big article on how Kray was still being a hero to the small boy he saved years ago.

Galo had some extreme abandonment issues. He conformed all his life to fit into a role, a job, a way he was expected to be for whoever he was talking to. He struggled with his own identity from a young age and with how different the world continued to act towards him it was hard for him to find his own place of comfort. It was always someone elses comfort he had to focus on. Joining Burning Rescue enhanced that feeling. He was meant to save and help others. And he was happy with that. It gave him purpose, pride, and reason to keep living.

Night terrors and sleep paralysis started immediately after the fire. During his foster home days, he was known to be awake at all hours of the night. Playing video games, reading, wandering around, doing exercise. anything to think of anything that wasn't that night. That wasn't how he's failing, how he wasn't liked, how he wasn't 'normal'.

He'd apologize after every time he got too excited and his voice got loud. Kray would always yell or give him a look from that. Kray wasn't subtle about how disinterested he was in Galo's interests. Galo would talk and talk and Kray would grunt and mumble under his breath and then slam the books off his desk nonchalantly. Galo would shut up. Galo had trouble understanding when the right time to speak was, what if he was too loud, what if he said something wrong.

Self deprecating humor was his go to in social interactions. If he said how annoying and stupid he was first then when they say it, it won't hurt that much. Or well, its just a joke, he doesn't really hate who he is! Right?

Galo's self harm was in working too much. Sleeping too little. He'd appear as a workaholic, invested in his passions. He'd be important and useful and he convinced himself that the aches werent there or werent too bad. His forgetfulness from lack of sleep was just him being stupid.

After Parnassus. He dealt with his issues more. Sort of. He'd become invested in helping Lio in helping the Burnish. Helping Lio with Lio's traumas and aches and lack of sleep.

But Lio was also invested in helping Galo.

Lio.. listened to him. Galo would talk and talk and talk and Lio could repeat the information back days later. Lio asked to hear more about certain subjects. Lio snap at Galo everytime he made a self hating joke. Galo still suffered nightmares and traumas but he wasn't alone this time. Truely wasn't alone. He finally had someone, and even more then just Lio, actually checking in on him, visiting him. Instead of Galo running to find someone to connect to and meeting brick walls.. he was slowly starting to have someone run to him.

Lio was the first person Galo would talk to about his parents. About the fun board game nights they had together. How his mother would let Galo wear make up and dresses but still refer to him as a boy when asked. How his father would let Galo stay up way to late watching old movies with him.

Galo had his own issues to deal with but he was in love with Lio intensely. Someone understood him when no one else would. But he couldn't always trust his own head, it always seemed to give the wrong answers about how others felt. But he just felt Lio loved him back. Lio just needed time. And there were days and months where Galo felt it was entirely one sided. That no one could love a fool like him.

But Lio would always end up doing something, as if reading Galo's mind, that showed he cared for Galo and that Galo's negative thoughts were just that, negative thoughts.

OKAY I feel like i could write forever and I def went all over the place. Im def missing some big points and thoughts. I hope this is at least readable. I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed.

I hope it wasn't too long or too weird or too much. idk where i was going with it and well i started writing with out a goal in mind. Just getting thoughts out really. Enjoy??And please talk to me about your thoughts. Anon or not anon. But thank you again for being even vaguely interested!! I know its not like.. fun or prob a popular idea for the most part.

#boop answers #no tags no time #i must go LIE DOWN #Anonymous

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shunkashuutou · 4 years

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🔥PROMARE🔥

Get ready, this is going to be a long post.

So starting at the end of last September, Mabs and I fell in love with a movie called “Promare”, and we went to see it in the theater 4 times. This movie actually came out in May of 2019, and we missed it the first time it was in theaters, but it was so popular that theaters started showing it again in the fall. It was made by Studio Trigger, which also made some of my other favorite anime, Kiznaiver and Little Witch Academia. (and BNA which Mabs and I are watching right now!)

So what is Promare about, and was it really worth watching in the theater 4 times?

I feel like these titles of articles about it sum it up pretty well:

Promare is set in a future where some people, referred to as “Burnish”, spontaneously develop fire powers. The Burnish start off as normal humans and have no control over over their powers at first, which leads to them accidentally burning down buildings or injuring other people, so they are feared and shunned by human society. The main character Galo is a member of a firefighting team called Burning Rescue, while the other main character Lio is the head of Mad Burnish, a notorious group of Burnish arsonists.

Here’s a trailer:

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It’s colorful, crazy, and over-the-top in true Studio Trigger style, so action-packed that you can’t look away for a single second, and it is one of the most visually amazing movies I have ever seen. (The only thing that is even sort of comparable to this vibrant 2D + 3D animation style would be “Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse”) The color palettes in every single scene of this movie are just incredible. It’s technically a mecha anime with giant fighting robots, but its story deals with themes of discrimination, and it even has a bit of gay romance mixed in, which is a huge step forward for a Japanese movie aimed at a mainstream audience.

All of the characters are wonderful, but especially the main duo Galo and Lio. It’s great to watch as they come to understand one another and work together. They’re both enthusiastic idiots who are the same type of crazy, which to me is both “relationship goals”, as well as the sort of relationship that I am lucky enough to be in.

It also has great voice acting, with the actor who played Sanada Yukimura in the Taiga Drama “SanadaMaru” as the mayor of the town, Kray Foresight (what a name), and the kabuki actor who played Ranbei in the movie “Dokurojo no Shichinin” (which is a super underrated, but another personal favorite ) as Lio.

And the MUSIC. This movie has the most amazing soundtrack, and it’s usage throughout the film is just perfect.

In particular, the scene featuring Lio’s theme “Kakusei” (”Awakening”) includes a volcano and a dragon and is just so INTENSE. In fact, the chorus of this song is not Japanese or English, but entirely made-up words, so that it would be able to convey feeling but not have the words distract viewers from the action.

youtube

“Inferno”, the opening track of the movie which is written from Galo’s perspective, is another very memorable song.

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Also “Nexus” and “Gallant Ones” and aaa, just so much good music on this soundtrack. (The song lyrics from Lio’s and Galo’s perspectives also tell a bit more of their story) Search “Promare ost” on YouTube to find a full playlist of all of the music if you want to hear more!

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And now it’s time for the story of how I’ve seen this movie 6 times now, 4 of which were in theaters.

The first time Mabs and I went to see Promare was after school one day. We got bibimbap and zunda daifuku for dinner first, and when we went to the theater, they were giving out these cool postcards!

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The second time was on the first day of Halloween Month, so we got some Halloween donuts to celebrate before watching the movie!

This was right before Promare was going to stop showing in the theaters again, but we really wanted to see it one more time (there is so much going on in this movie, you have to watch it more than once), and the only showing that worked with both of our schedules was one that was marked “応援上映”, which I didn’t think too much about and just assumed that it was an extra showing to promote the movie.

But we knew that something was different when the person sitting next to us started pulling colored lights out of her bag. It turns out that an “ouen jyouei” is special interactive showing of a movie in which fans are encouraged to wave colored lights, yell out their favorite lines, and sing along with the songs. We were definitely not expecting that! It’s interesting too because “ouen jyouei” clearly have their own sort of culture. It wasn’t just like people were yelling out whatever they were thinking, there were set phrases and responses that fans would say at certain times. These responses were probably developed over a long period of lots of fans watching the movie over and over again; I wonder how many times the other people in that theater had seen Promare already.

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It was around this time that Mabs and I found out that there was going to be a cosplay event conveniently close to Osaka Station at the end of October. We were both very in need of a change of pace, so we decided to go and cosplay Galo and Lio! To make things faster, we divided up the work, Mabs sewed the outfits and I made the wigs. (We also decided to share the cosplays because we both like both characters!)

Galo’s wig was a big challenge because I had never made a wig with a foam base before. First I patterned out the spikes with paper.

Then I cut them out of eva foam, assembled them and painted them blue, and glued layers of wig wefts over the top of them. After the glue dried, I trimmed off the excess hair and hairsprayed them into perfect (slightly dangerous) points, and used hot glue to attach the spikes to the wig base. I don’t know how much time this took, but definitely over 30 hours!

Lio’s wig was so much easier. The wig I got worked great as a base, and I just had to trim it, fluff it up, and add a couple different shades of green hair chalk to get the gradient that Lio has going on.

I am really happy with how they turned out!

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After that it was almost time for the cosplay event, but a few days before, Promare came back to theaters, this time in 4D! It was our first time ever seeing a 4D movie and it was an experience! The seats moved all around and shot out blasts of air and mist, and the lights in the theater flashed to go with the movie. Promare with all of its crazy action was absolutely perfect as a 4D movie, and it was so much fun!! They also gave us this super cool postcard to celebrate the 4D release. I think this is probably my favorite piece of official Promare art.

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And then it was time for the cosplay event!

We had such a fun day, and Mabs looked great as Galo! We ate pizza of course, since the characters eat pizza in the movie.

I was really happy with how I looked as Lio! Here’s a selfie, and a bonus ~fashion~ selfie with my favorite sunglasses.

We met a few new cameramen who took photos for us!

I love that Mabs is strong enough to pick me up for photos! This picture turned out cute!

And I had a lot of fun doing photo edits with flames and lots of crazy colors, since that is very Promare!

Before and After🔥

Before... (I liked the pose but not the background)

... After! (I had fun trying to get this one to look like a scene from the movie!

Using the song lyrics as backgrounds

And of course we took some silly offshots as well! These were my favorites!

Since we made the cosplays to share, next time we get a chance to wear them, I’ll be Galo and Mabs will be Lio! I can’t wait to see how we’ll look!

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The movie came out on DVD and Blu-ray at the beginning of February, and Mabs had pre-ordered the special box set! (I wish I had a photo of the box and all of the extra stuff! So cool!) We had a fun time watching it at home and eating pizza! This movie drastically increased our pizza consumption. Particularly margherita pizza since that’s what the characters eat. I had always thought that it looked boring compared to pepperoni or deluxe, but I now understand the wonders of margherita pizza. (Also look at the cute Galo and Lio cat ear plushies! Mabs got me a set for Christmas and they are adorable!)

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Promare got put back in theaters in 4D AGAIN, on Valentine’s Day!! Of course we thought that sounded like the perfect V-day date idea, so we decided to go see it one more time, even though we already had it on Blu-ray!

So this year I made Mabs Promare-themed chocolates for Valentine’s Day! Yes, these are real, edible chocolates! (I had fun doing a little photoshoot of them before I gave them to her)

I found this wonderful triangular Engrish box at the 100 yen shop and customized it a bit with some shiny pink cellophane.

I made the chocolates by first drawing out the designs I wanted, and cutting up some regular chocolates into the right shapes to use as a base. Then I used colorful chocolate pens to cover the base layer and add the designs!

Before our date, I tried to do Promare-inspired nail polish too.

This is one of my new favorite photos of us! We had such a nice V-day date!

So glad that we got to see Promare AGAIN! And 4D is just the best way to see it! This time we saw it at a different theater than the first time we saw it in 4D, and the movement of the seats was programmed a little differently, which was interesting! This time we could also distinctly smell the rose fragrance when Galo sees Lio for the first time.

Absolutely the perfect Valentine’s Day movie. As Mabs put it, what could be more romantic than overthrowing the government, saving the environment, and setting the entire world on fire together?

And we had pizza for dinner that day, of course!

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Also in February, the Lawson near my school did a special Promare collaboration! It looked so cool, and they had a bunch of posters up all over the inside too!

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And a bit after that, some special Promare merch that had gone out of stock before I even watched Promare the first time got restocked! I needed some new shirts anyway so I couldn’t resist, and Mabs and I placed an order.

I love these plushies so much! They are so cute with their little noodle arms and legs!

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Now that I think about it more, I can’t figure out if we’ve watched Promare 6 times or 7 times. But the most recent time was with strawberry waffles (our food obsession changed from pizza to strawberry waffles after playing Tales of Zestiria, lol)

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Promare will be released on DVD in English in the US on May 19th! I’ve heard that the English dub is really well done, so I can’t wait to see it that way too!

I HIGHLY recommend this movie to anyone and everyone! It’s worth watching for the color palettes alone, but the animation, characters, and music make it one of my all-time favorite movies!

#promare #cosplay #galo thymos #lio fotia #blogging #life in japan #movies #may 2020 #2020

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faveficarchive · 5 years

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The High Road to Low Expectations

Number 666 of the White Trash Series

By Vivian Darkbloom

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: In the final installment of the White Trash series, Cyrene fucks up the weed, Gabrielle is on a mad search for the right kind of weed, and not-so-surprising new facts arise when Eli starts a film project and chooses Dahak’s.

CW: There’s some off-screen sexual assault in this one. Two lines, but it’s there.

You wonder why we're only half-ashamed

Because enough is too much

And look around…

Can you blame us? Can you blame us?

—Morrisey, "Interesting Drug"

1. The Mother of Peace

In 1967, just before she dropped out of the honors program at Berkeley in order to join Strawberry Alarm Clock on tour, Cyrene had participated in a student takeover of the president’s office on campus.

It was her finest moment: She was the Revolution incarnate. Wearing a beret, armed with a bullhorn, she lectured, cajoled, exhorted her fellow students to leave the past behind, to join with the Students Against Totalitarianism and Nostalgia (SATAN) in rebuilding the university for the future. The past was dead, she proclaimed. "Marx was wrong!" she spat into her bullhorn. "Religion isn’t the opiate of the people, it’s nostalgia!"

She was quoted for weeks, photographed for all the local newspapers and her FBI file, and propositioned by the grooviest guys on campus.

Thirty-three years later, the present was now the past, but it still looked pretty damn good. Especially when one lived in a day and age when Ché Guervara’s image was used to sell computers and a chain of stores selling bad coffee had taken over the planet. Now, Cyrene realized, she was beginning to understand nostalgia. She wanted to go back in a time capsule and apologize to nostalgia for all the mean things she said about it. Because now she was an old woman—albeit a relatively content old woman—reduced to selling pot to ungrateful young people who would just use it while watching cartoons and not as a break from fighting for the proletariat, or world peace, or the environment, or for an endangered species.

And then there was Gabrielle—who now stood before Cyrene, irritable and clad in her trusty old Carhart jacket. Once upon a time she thought her daughter’s main squeeze had enormous potential to do something—precisely what, the old hippie hadn’t the faintest idea. But ever since the trés sensitive poet had secured an academic career (with stripping on the side—some career choices were best left unexamined, thought the terminally unemployed Cyrene), she had become terribly dour and authoritarian. Gabrielle was now part of the problem, as they used to say.

"Got my dope, Cyrene?" A tad impatient, Gabrielle was shifting her weight from leg to leg.

The aging hippie sighed. "Of course, man." Cyrene pulled out her briefcase. While it was not a briefcase in the traditional leathery sense, she thought that the old Kung Fu lunchbox (which Zina had used for 3rd and 4th grade before advancing to the practice of bullying other children for food, money, and homework) served her purposes well.

"Here ya go, honey." She flipped a Ziploc bag of pot to Gabrielle, who examined it with the exaggerated self-importance of a nascent connoisseur.

Little golden eyebrows furrowed, like caterpillars plotting a coup. "Is this the Rhine Gold?"

"Absolutely!"

"It doesn't look like the Rhine Gold."

"Since when are you an expert?"

"Since you became my dealer—I've been smoking it for the past five years."

Cyrene squinted at the bag. And grew less convinced herself. She thought she had saved the last of the current crop for Gabrielle…unless she accidentally gave it to Eli. Which would explain why he was so fuckin’ happy at the food co-op last night! "Well, I'm pretty sure it's the Rhine Gold."

"'Pretty sure' doesn't cut it."

"Do you use that snotty tone with your students, man?"

Actually, yes, I do, Gabrielle thought, wincing. "Sorry, Cyrene. It's just a stressful time of year. The semester is over, I have finals to grade, not to mention the term papers. It's—"

"—it's coming on Christmas, they're cuttin' down trees, they're puttin' up reindeer and singin' songs of joy and peace—"

"Cyrene."

"Honey?"

"Christmas is over."

The old hippie smiled in the glorious, reassuring fashion that made her a darling of the counterculture for 15 minutes, that is, with a freewheeling, easy, bullshit charm that totally suckered the always-guileless Gabrielle. Cyrene patted the young woman’s arm. "Just give it a try for me, honey, okay?"

* * *

Zina discarded a sooty jacket and a well-worn helmet in a pile beside the door. Another hellish shift. How many kitty cats could get stuck up in a tree in one frigging day? And then there was another case of blatant fireplace abuse—it happened frequently during and after Christmas, the most festive and mindless time of the year. Somehow people failed to understand that the chestnuts should merely roast over an open fire, and not turn into splitting, hissing flameballs that freak you out and make you inexplicably throw toward the window so that the curtains light up as well.

She yawned, stretched, and ambled into the living room. Gabrielle was standing in the middle of the room, dressed in her standard lazy-ass Sunday gear: green flannel pajama bottoms and an Olympus County Community College t-shirt. "Hey bitch, where's my chicken pot pie?" the firefighter trotted out her standard greeting.

Instead of a playful giggle or a semi-sarcastic retort, the poet met this with stony silence and a baleful glare.

"Just kidding," the firefighter added lamely.

"Your mother dicked me over again."

Zina smirked suggestively. "Come again?"

"She gave me inferior weed, Zina. I'm not high. I'm not getting a good high." The poet blew out a frustrated breath. "This is not Rhine Gold."

"You sure?" The firefighter walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of Rolling Rock out of the fridge. "I though Mom woulda learned her lesson the last time she didn't give you Rhine." In response to the last time she did not get Rhine Gold as requested, the vengeful Gabrielle—perhaps over-inspired by Titus Andronicus—cooked a tofu casserole in chicken broth and fed it to the unsuspecting hippie. However, the only salient result of the incident was Gabrielle's overwhelming guilt and Cyrene's endless tirades on fucked-up karma.

"Obviously not. In fact, I'll prove it to you." The poet dropped her gaze. "Say it."

"I'm tired," Zina whined, as if four syllables would push her into physical collapse.

"Come on."

"Okay, okay." The firefighter took a breath, then wiggled her eyebrows for good measure. "Machu Picchu."

Half a minute lapsed into eternity. Gabrielle remained staring at her blankly. "Try again," the poet-pothead requested.

"Machu Picchu." This time Zina drawled it out a bit, sounding like a Pokeman on Quaaludes.

The silence continued. Zina frowned. Normally—meaning under the proper influence of Rhine Gold—upon hearing the name of the ancient Inca city, Gabrielle would dissolve into giggles that eventually escalated into hysterics and threatened the stability of her bladder.

Zina’s sooty brow furrowed with an almost genuine concern. This was indeed serious. She opened the refrigerator again to continue her reconnaissance mission for leftovers.

2. Somehow, Pacino’s Career Survived

Within the confines of Dahak's, Chad waved at an unusual sight: Eli, clutching a small, old film camera, was leaning nervously against the bar. He was intrigued enough to go over and speak with Sarcastic Hippie Video Store Guy.

"Welcome to the dark side," Chad purred mischievously.

"Hey man, how ya doing? Look, I'm not here because I'm gay."

"Sure, you’re not. I mean, where else can a straight guy indulge his love of 20-year-old dance songs?"

"No, really." Eli held up the camera. "This is for my semester project in Film 404. We have to do a short piece that remakes a Hollywood film about minorities. I chose Cruising."

"I see." Chad's eyes narrowed.

"No, you don't—I'm going to do it better, trust me."

"Good luck," Chad muttered.

"What?" Eli shouted. The sound of Dee-Lite's "Groove is in the Heart" now pounded over them, rendering embarrassed mumbling impossible.

"Never mind!" Chad yelled back. "But you better be careful."

"Why?"

"It’s contagious!" Chad laughed and pointed at a burly man on the dance floor, dressed in black Levis and a leather vest. "I mean, I never thought I'd see him here, but there he is! And I even got his number!" he crowed.

Eli watched as the magic man spun around. It was Artie.

"This is so going into the movie." He held up his super 8.

* * *

Zina had settled in on the couch to watch the latest offering from Fox: When Overeducated White Women Attack. The show was finally displaying some promise: After ten tedious minutes of observing a comparative literature professor balancing her checkbook—resulting in tears and a torn register—Zina now watched as a woman with a Ph.D. in art history from Yale contemplated sticking a butter knife into a still-plugged toaster.

"Do it, you dumb bitch!" the firefighter hissed at the TV, just as Gabrielle came in the house.

"Zina," the poet began breathlessly.

The butter knife hesitated about the toaster slot.

"Are you listening to me?"

The firefighter nibbled her lips with anticipation.

"Damn it, Zina!" Gabrielle latched onto a dark and brooding—yet terribly sensitive—earlobe, giving it a violent twist.

"Ow!" the firefighter roared. It was the first part of Gabrielle's fabled one-two punch: First the earlobe, then cranial battering with the world's ugliest throw pillow—a brightly colored, quasi-Pennsylvania Dutch mess of hexagons that resembled nothing so much as an Amish pap smear. Having the discordant colors so close to her face was worse than the actual physical pain.

Zina ducked a blow from the pillow and rolled off the couch to avoid further abuse. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted. "Ever since you stopped smoking dope you've been out of your fucking gourd!"

"Bullshit!" snapped Gabrielle.

The firefighter rubbed her delicate, doughy earlobe. "Oh yeah? What about all those American Gladiators you were so hot to beat up, the other night when we went out for pizza?"

Gabrielle held up a menacing finger—and snarled. "I just didn't like they way they were lookin' at you."

Zina blinked. Shouldn't that be my line? Is this what it's like to live with me? Mommy, I'm confused.

"We got a problem, Zina. Artie beat up Eli, outside of Dahak's."

"What was Artie doin' hanging around—oh."

"Uh-huh. And it's Gay Night too. This adds to my theory that he's a big fat fucking closet case."

"Or it could support my theory that he's just horny as hell." So very proud of actually having a theory on anything, Zina folded her arms with a minor sense of triumph.

Gabrielle was pacing now. "Fuck the theories. All I know is that I'm gonna kick his ass. Are you in or not?"

Zina now slumped, defeated. In reality, she wanted nothing more than to drink beer in front of the TV until she fell asleep. And maybe mess around a little with her girlfriend on the couch. Add some pretzels to that pleasure equation, and thus an evening was made, nay, would achieve an unrivaled, unparalleled perfection. She recycled the only line she could think of that might get her out of this potential mess. "Violence is not the way, grasshopper."

"Don't you dare quote Lao Ma to me!" barked Gabrielle. She stopped pacing. "I want vengeance!"

A sharp buzzing noise and canned laughter from the TV indicated that the Yalie had just fried herself.

The firefighter sighed. What else could she do? "Will we be home in time for Smackdown?"

"Count on it." Gabrielle sailed out the door, expecting her backup to follow.

* * *

Artie swaggered down a quiet, peaceful main street while fragments of "Stayin’ Alive" provided a rather dated personal soundtrack within his mind. He felt good. Fifteen minutes of sin in a bathroom, easily absolved by lots of prayer and repentant tears, made him feel like a new man. He sniffed at his arm, drinking in the powerful yet sublime scent of cologne that was not his—a heady (oh yeah, baby! he thought), Proustian remnant of his earlier toilet-side encounter.

A lone car passed. Then it executed an abrupt u-turn and came toward him. Immediately he recognized the battered, ugly economy vehicle as Gabrielle’s. When it pulled to a halt near the curb in front of him and both women emerged simultaneously from the Escort—even slamming their respective doors in unison—he giggled. "Hey! Cagney and Lacey! Arrest me and molest me!"

In response Zina leaped over the hood of the car with magnificent, MacGyver-like grace. Somehow he couldn’t picture Sharon Gless doing that. Nonetheless, as usual, her beauty broke his heart, almost literally in this instance as she head-butted him in the chest. He stumbled backward, and she slammed him into a wall. "Zina!" he cried. "What gives?"

"You know what gives, you little shit. You beat up Eli."

Fist curled, Zina leaned in closer to Artie. She sniffed at him. He flinched. Then he noticed that her eyes had that old, familiar look, that look he thought he would never see again, in his wildest, wettest dreams: Desire. "What's that you're wearing?" she growled sensually.

"Um, I think it's called Aroma Mist—"

"You mean Aramis?" The height-challenged Gabrielle was trying to interject herself between them; if doing so physically wouldn’t work, she would settle for verbally. Aramis was dangerous stuff—this she knew from Chad. The demon scent could arouse anyone, her worldly friend had told her. And while a conflation of appetites was an unfortunate aspect of the firefighter’s character—the smell of fresh meatloaf could have Zina naked and ready to pounce within seconds—Gabrielle was quite certain that she did not want to know to what ends Aramis would compel her lover.

The firefighter’s nostrils flared again. Artie almost came on the spot.

"It's nice. Real nice," Zina murmured. Her pupils were obscenely dilated, as if giving birth to a new lust.

"Zina—" Gabrielle ground out the "you-are-on-the-verge-of-infidelity" warning between her teeth.

"Thanks!" Artie gushed. He grinned. "Say, ah, my place ain't that far away. How about we have a little drink, get caught up on old times?"

Zina grunted thoughtfully, like a sensitive orangutan making her TV debut on Nova.

It was the last thing she remembered clearly. For the intoxicating scent carried her away, she flew on the wings of night, her heart swelled and thundered like a storm. To paraphrase John Denver, it filled up her senses.

And then, the scent of the fabled cologne faded—or rather, was taken hostage and pummeled to death by the joint, brute force of stale TV dinners and ancient laundry that happily coexisted in Artie’s trailer. Now, sitting on a couch more wretched and stinky than her own, Zina blinked in confusion, wondering how in the hell she had gotten there.

Artie was smiling at her in his smarmy way from the entrance of his eat-in kitchen. "I’m makin’ ya a Long Island Iced Tea, baby," he crooned. Which meant that he was frantically throwing every kind of liquor he had into a blender.

That goddamn cologne. Geez, it's no wonder straight women fall in love with gay men all the time! Gabrielle is gonna kill me.

"An’ you just sit back and enjoy that cee-gar," he was saying.

Zina looked at her hands. A cigar was cradled between the first two fingers of her left hand. Not just any cigar, she realized, but a good one, straight from the Ghurkhan plantation in Cuba! Now that brought back memories, she thought. She cut off the tip with her switchblade, then lit up, making sure that he could hear the soft, sensual sound of her lips going puh as she puffed away. Might as well torture him while I’m here.

Artie cast a nervous look into the living room. Seeing her here once again, within his home, made him realize that he wanted her to be there, always. This AM radio sentiment prompted a decisive action. He wiped his sweaty palms on his black jeans, darted into the living room, and knelt in front of her. "Zina, I—"

"Where's my drink?"

"I'll get to it in a minute. I—" He made the mistake of looking into her cold, uncompromising eyes. Suppressing a sigh, he stood up and went back to the kitchen. After five minutes, some cursing, and a whirring blender, he was back with a frothy concoction that he hoped would lower whatever teeny inhibitions—like, say, incest or a certain blonde pussywhipper—that now prevented her from sleeping with him.

Gleefully she gulped down half the drink, her lip smacking and groans of pleasure a delightful torture to him.

"Zina, I got to talk to you about something. I've been doing a lot of thinking about you and me."

She burped.

"I can't deny how I feel about you any longer. I reckon my feelings for you never changed in the first place. No matter how much I fought 'em. So I got to ask you this." He lowered his head, sent a quick prayer to the Lord, then looked once again into her eyes. "Would you marry me, Zina?"

"Ain't that illegal, marryin' your kin?"

His face turned red. "They can't prove that, and you know it!"

Zina paused thoughtfully and tortured him some more as she fellated the cigar. "I dunno, Artie. What's in it for me?"

"A devoted, loving husband."

"Not the answer I want, and you know it."

It had been The Issue in their relationship; Artie had prayed that she would not remember. But, alas and alack, she did. "What you ask of me is unnatural," he mumbled, which had been his Standard Retort in the matter—and it was true, because the Bible never said a damn thing about It.

"My ass," she grunted. "I bet if I asked Gabrielle to eat me out every night, she'd do it." She neglected to add that this would most certainly be true only if chocolate and/or margaritas were involved in said oral activity.

His expression curdled. What you won't do, do for love. Then he scowled. Damn that song! "All right!" he spat. "You got it."

The firefighter blinked in surprise; she was impressed. "Okay. What about the housework?"

"Zina," he began patiently, "I am a working man. And the Lord dictates that the home is the woman's realm."

"I work too, asshole. So I would have to do all the cooking and the cleaning?"

His nostrils flared. He would not back down on this one. Never. Absolutely not. "We split it, fifty-fifty! And I'm not doing the laundry."

It was an admirable gamble, and a good offer, she thought. And she knew that Artie could never boss her around like Gabrielle did—he wouldn’t force her to eat vegetables, especially with some lowdown, dirty trick like hiding mushrooms under slices of pepperoni on a pizza! Still, her mind was made up; it always had been. She grinned and drained her drink. "Shit, Artie, Gabrielle already does all that cleaning stuff anyway." She stretched, patted his cheek, and stood up. "Thanks for the drink and the smoke."

As Zina left Artie's trailer, all the while marveling at how easy it was to block out the sound of his sobbing (which possessed a quality similar to the primal wailing of rhinoceroses in mourning), she realized that she had made a mistake. Even though nothing had happened, she had left Gabrielle high and dry, no doubt thinking that something was going on with her and Artie. Well, it wasn't her fault, really, that Artie had smelled so good. Still, Zina knew that one thing—and one thing only—mattered. Only one thing would rectify this mistake: One way or another, she would get Gabrielle the Rhine Gold.

3. Like a Bridge Over Troubled Kung Pao

On his first day out of the hospital, Eli agreed to lunch with Gabrielle at the Green Dragon. This, in spite of the fact that he felt embarrassed about how he looked: His shaven head was completely bandaged, and he resembled a partially bearded blue-eyed egg. But despite his tender condition, Eli was more concerned about his friend; he had detected a serious mood change in Gabrielle since she no longer had access to Rhine Gold. She was moody, irritable, and prone to violence. And maybe just plain weird: She was now arranging the peanuts of her Kung Pao Chicken into an impressive fortress around a particularly large floret of broccoli. She was about to send a lump of chicken careening into the peanuts when Eli announced his intention to speak by clearing his throat.

"So Zina's out of town?" He frowned as Gabrielle got the snow peas in on the action, creating a little drawbridge across the peanuts and into the broccoli.

"Yeah," the poet finally mumbled.

It was like trying to coax conversation out of an autistic child. "Where is she?"

Gabrielle sighed dramatically. Acting as deus ex machina in the culinary warfare, she stabbed the chicken battering ram with a chopstick. "Visiting an old boyfriend. Supposedly to get me some Rhine Gold." She devoured the meat.

Eli shuddered at this carnivorous act. "You don't trust her?"

"I dunno, Eli. I'm not sure anymore—not after the way she was sniffing around Artie."

"Well, geez—that was just Artie. This doesn't mean—"

"Why would she have to go all the way to New York to get the stuff?" Gabrielle burst out with exasperation.

The hippie cinemaphile attempted an explanation. "Gab, this stuff is actually pretty rare. It's powerful shit, and you should just count yourself lucky that Cyrene had a crop going for as long as she did. I'm not surprised Zina would have to go to a big city to score some."

This appeared to assuage Gabrielle somewhat. "I guess, but still…I don't know if I should trust this guy."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Marcus. I actually meant to tell you sooner, 'cause I knew you'd be interested in this—Zina says he's in the movies, like he works for a studio or something."

Eli's jaw dropped. "Holy shit!"

The poet furrowed her brows. "What?"

"Zina knows Marcus Pebble? Oh my GOD."

"Who is he?"

Eli shook his head in disbelief. Of course, he wasn't really surprised that she didn't know who Marcus was—most moviegoers today were so vastly ignorant of their cinematic heritage. He quoted directly from his own lonely, neglected unfinished dissertation: "In the early 1980s, Marcus almost revived the blaxploitation genre and almost returned it to its glory days in the 1970s with one amazing film: White Chocolate Comes to Harlem."

"'Almost?'" Gabrielle interjected skeptically.

"Okay, it bombed. But it's a great film, man. It provides a valuable and much-needed transition between classics like Shaft and Foxy Brown to the new genre of gangsta films which began with New Jack City."

"Is he still directing?"

Eli sighed sadly. "Unfortunately, no. He's leading a living death as a low-level Miramax exec."

Lao Ma stopped by the table to refill their water glasses. "You speak of Marcus Pebble," she announced.

"Ooooh, eavesdropping, how mystical!" Whereas Gabrielle was concerned, Lao never failed in stirring the sarcasm pot.

Nonetheless, Zina's ex ignored the temperamental poet and addressed her remarks to Eli. "I did feng shui for Marcus's townhouse."

Eli gazed at her, amazed, worshipful, and tempted to kiss her feet, even though her filthy New Balance sneakers were encrusted with old "Happy Royal Family of Prawns" sauce.

The proprietress of the Green Dragon merely shrugged. "It's a living."

4. The Face on the Cutting Room Floor

[A scene from White Chocolate Comes to Harlem. Zina, lying on a bed, is wearing a leopard-skin spaghetti string top and mauve hotpants. She has a typical Medusa-like early 80s perm, as perfected by the various members of the Bangles. She is pretending to be high or actually is; to this day no one is really sure. ]

[Marcus enters. His is a more restrained version of the classic pimp suit—black with a hot pink shirt and matching headband around his flying-saucer like hat.]

Marcus: Bitch, what did I tell you? Get your lazy ass on that street now! [He grabs Zina by the wrist and hauls her out of the bed. She stands before him, wavering slightly, glassy-eyed. Due to her three-inch stiletto heels, she towers over him.]

Zina: Huh?

Marcus: You heard me! [He slaps Zina—lightly—across the face. This snaps her out of whatever stupor—and pretense at characterization—she inhabits. Her eyes narrow with rage, she snarls, and knocks Marcus across the set with a vicious backhand. Off camera, a thud and a shriek of pain is heard. The camera follows the sound and twirls toward Marcus, now sprawled on the floor, clutching a bloody nose.]

Zina (off camera): Aw, baby, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to— [She totters over to him, kneels down and tries to help him sit up. Bleeding profusely, he tries, feebly, to crawl away from her.]

Marcus: GodDAMN, Zina! Remember that little discussion—ACTING? GodDAMNit. [To camera.] Floyd, turn off the camera!

Floyd (off camera): Huh?

Marcus: Fuck, are you all idiots? TURN OFF THE CAMERA.

Floyd: Sorry, man, I thought it was part of the scene. [Camera remains on.]

Zina: I'm sorry, honey, I really am. [Marcus is still crawling away from her, leaving a trail of blood. She is now crawling as well, right behind him.] You know how I get, I'm, like, more of a Method actor…I react, not act!

Marcus: I gave up a chance working with Pam Grier for this. [Still crawling, still bleeding. She watches helplessly, tries to approach him again. He is now off camera.] Do you hear me? PAM GRIER.

A Mercedes-Benz mired in traffic at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 76th, 6:42 PM EST.

Marcus drummed his fingers on the armrest, his cell phone glued to his head like the tumor it was probably already causing within his brain. "Right, Harvey. Right." He stared at the driver's thick pink neck and suppressed a sigh. "I'll take care of it as soon as I'm back in the office."

As Harvey droned on about the Gilligan's Island remake, Marcus gazed longingly toward Central Park, at the treetops that peeked over a long stone wall separating the green splendor from the sidewalk. His eyes widened when he saw a white hand appear at the top of the wall. A head, crowned with black flowing hair, followed this. A woman was pulling herself over the wall. Oh dear God. It can't be. Yet the pure grace of that body’s motion indicated it could only be one person, and one person only.

Marcus gasped; he couldn't find his voice. And even if he could have, the driver wouldn't have locked the doors in time anyway.

Gracefully, Zina zigzagged through the traffic, found the dark Mercedes, opened the door, and piled into the back seat. She grabbed Marcus's cell. "Hiya, Harvey. Yeah, I found him. Thanks a lot. Now promise me you'll think about that Billy Jack remake? 'Cause I tell ya, Harvey, that film is like my Bible, and I could be Billy Jack in my sleep, ya know?" A pause. "That Angelina Jolie weirdo as the hippie teacher, of course. Think about it. Okay, babe. Thanks again. Bye." Zina stared at the phone, couldn't figure out how to turn it off, and tossed it into Marcus's lap. "He'll never do it," she muttered to herself. "Damn shame." She sighed regretfully, but then, as she turned her attention on her ex-lover, the wattage on her smile increased exponentially. "Hiya, Marcus!"

Marcus, now plastered against the car door, wondered if he could possibly outrun her. Even if he could, the attention he might draw to himself would be questionable, at least to the easily confused members of New York's Finest. A black man running from a Mercedes? I don't think so. "Zina, what the hell are you doing here?" he barked.

She tried pouting. "Miss me, baby?"

"Like I would miss the plague."

"That ain't nice, Marcus."

"What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want somethin'?" Her eyes—those beautiful, beautiful eyes—went wide. "Couldn't I just stop by to say hi?"

Marcus held up a hand. "Girl, don't even. You always want somethin', Zina. There's always an angle. So just tell me what it is."

She attempted mixing in wounded, sullen pride with the pouting—which sometimes worked with Gabrielle, but only if you were already on your knees—yet he continued glaring at her until she finally broke down. "Okay, baby, you got me. I want some Rhine Gold."

"Rhine Gold!" he exclaimed. "What makes you think I still dabble in shit like that?"

Zina frowned. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You're playing with power suits now. It's all coke."

"Zina!" Marcus shouted. "I do not do coke! Don't oppress me with your assumptions."

"What?"

Remember that this is Zina, he told himself. "Don't be an asshole."

"Oh." Silence fell over them. He folded his arms and remained crushed against the car door, wondering just how the hell he was going to get rid of her. And how in hell was he going to talk Harvey out of a Billy Jack remake. For despite what Zina thought, when it all came down to it, Harvey was just a massive, balding spittoon for bad ideas involving recycled B movies.

"Marcus, you at least gotta know where I can get some," she remarked, disgruntled, for he was wasting her very valuable time.

"Well…" He pursed his lips in thought. Granted, it was dangerous, but it would get her off his back, and far, far away. But can she handle it? he wondered. Marcus looked at her again, into eyes so blue they’d make Joanne Woodward dump Paul Newman in a nanosecond, and so crazy that Robert DeNiro would cry with envy. "I know where you can get some, but it is dangerous, and you gotta go south. Way south." His gaze flicked to his driver. "I’ve give you the details when we hit my office."

"Oh yeah? Okay, I can deal with that." Now that this most difficult phase of her mission was complete complete, Zina stretched with both relief and an air of self-satisfaction. They rode for a while in contented silence. "Hey, Marcus?"

"Now what?"

"Can I drive the car?"

5. Our Dyke in Havana

The retinue surrounding Castro was as thick as flies over a garbage can. The group of heavily armed men surrounding the leader of the small nation pushed through the crowd toward the baseball field.

Castro paused for a moment to shake hands with his people—the workers, the children, the huddled masses longing for decent TV stations. And also because he wanted a better look at the tall, pale senorita in the tight, sheath-like black dress and sunglasses, who grinned at him like a beacon.

With his guards watching warily, the mystery woman inched closer to Castro. Suddenly she flung her arms around the Cuban leader, crushing him in an affectionate hug. Several guards already had their hands on their weapons, but Castro was laughing and patting the woman's back.

Then, just as quickly, she disentangled herself from his embrace, still smiling. The pressure of the crowd urged Castro on, and reluctantly he moved away from her, with a final, longing glance backwards. Only a minute later he was patting his secret pocket for his stash and realized it was gone. He stopped and turned around. In the distance he could see her kicking off her heels, tearing her skirt for better mobility, and running. "Consigala!" he shouted.

Zina was tempted to take a moment to taunt them by shouting "Viva La Rhine Gold!" but as the adrenaline pumped through her and her legs kicked up increasing speed, she became more invested in keeping her sorry ass alive. Shit, I hope this swimming-to-Miami thing is as easy as Marcus says it is, she thought.

6. Husker Don't

Vendela Van Hoek nursed a damp, cold Heineken while a stripper's boobs shook in her face. Unimpressed, the Swedish musician simply leaned back, the gesture dismissing the dancer, who—untalented yet nonetheless working hard for the money, so hard for it, honey—took her mammaries elsewhere.

She had left Sven and Benny at the garage, thoroughly disgusted with her cousins' inane arguments with the idiot mechanic who could not fix their Saab motorbus. Of course it would take a week for a new exhaust pipe to arrive in this American backwater, and all the screaming and Laplander obscenities in the world would not change that. She placed the blame squarely on the domineering Sven. If he hadn't insisted on touring more rural areas, they wouldn't be here, she thought angrily. Her thumbnail slashed into the soggy beer label.

"I knew I would find you here." Benny's voice floated from above.

Vendela glanced up. Her bandmate, a truly gifted guitarist, was cradling a Heineken himself. He sat down.

"Don't say anything, Benny."

He shrugged and said nothing. Yet Benny's flaccid lips were quivering as much as the dancer's hips. Vendela knew it was only a matter of seconds.

"He didn't mean anything by it," the guitarist blurted.

"Like hell he didn't," she snapped.

"Vendela, we are all under a great deal of stress right now."

"That is no excuse!"

"It was just because you were off beat—" Benny winced at her icy glare.

"Oh, so now you are taking his side."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are, you fat fuck! Go on, tell me—say it! You think I am a 'second-rate Geddy Lee' too—you think that, just like Sven does!"

"I didn't say that!" he shouted. Mortified, he noticed that some of the people in strip club were staring at them. He lowered his voice. "You are Keith Moon, Vendela. Purely Moon."

"Liar!"

"Keep your voice down! You're embarrassing me!"

"Fuck you and your embarrassment!"

Just when Benny thought it could get no worse, the opening strains of the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself," began over the sound system, hypnotic layers of guitar that, nonetheless, he detested and thought so clichéd, so ridiculous for a strip club. Could they ever think of anything new? Who, he thought, is this pathetic bimbo who dares to use such an old, gimmicky song?

However, his heart clenched inside his chest when confronted with precisely the kind of bimbo who would use such a song: a delicious, voluptuous woman of perfection, with short blonde hair and in a white fringe bikini, slithering seductively around the pole on stage. He could not tear his eyes away from her. She moved with such leonine self-possession and controlled grace that his imagination begged to see her unleashed in the throes of passion.

May the heavens forgive me for slighting you, o nameless American goddess!

The goddess was now in front of him, gyrating slowly, her eyes glowing with faint disdain as she stared down upon him, awaiting her tribute. By the time that he had the presence of mind to dig for money in his pocket, the impatient goddess had moved on to Vendela. And now, watching his cousin brush a bill along those perfectly sculpted abs, Benny saw that Vendela was just as enraptured.

* * *

Sid Moskowitz narrowed his eyes at the sight of the two out-of-towners loitering in front of the dressing room. He knew they had to be from out of town since they were wearing leather pants and were stupid enough to believe they had a chance in hell with Gabrielle. The fact that they were shouting at each other in Swedish was also a big tip-off.

"Can I help you?" he murmured suspiciously at them. His eyes traveled freely over the statuesque blonde woman, who did not seem pleased at his attentions.

The stocky fellow in the chain-mail shirt, who looked like a scruffy Jon Lovitz, decided to answer for her. Before he spoke, his chest puffed out dramatically, as if he were indeed Master Thespian. "We come to offer frottage to a fellow artist! It is a certainty that She is the most talented dancer in your valley, and it is common for all far and wide to pay tribute to the genius who is She with White Undergarments Resembling Spaghetti!"

Sid had to hand it to this one; usually the potential stalkers lacked any kind of chutzpah and freely admitted that they simply wanted another gander at Gabrielle's tits. Nonetheless, Sid's paternal, protective instincts outweighed his admiration of the creative freak. "Sorry, sweetcakes, but Gabrielle does not receive visitors after she performs, okay? Now run along and abuse the English language elsewhere."

"Who are you?" the blonde beauty growled at Sid.

"I own this place, dumpling."

"And why should we believe that?" she retorted loudly, placing her hands on her hips.

Sid was caught among arousal, indignation, and abject fear—for him, a common state of existence. "Because I do, honeylamb. Now listen, I was just beginning to like you and I was even gonna offer you a tryout—"

Suddenly the dressing room's door flung open. Gabrielle's Olympus County Community College t-shirt and her cutoff jeans undermined her diva turn. "What the hell is all the racket about?" she snapped. However, the underachieving poet's erect nipples held them in thrall.

The proprietor of the Shimmy Shack, however, was accustomed to this glorious sight and he found his voice first. "These foreigners have come to stare at you, sugar pop." He sniffed disdainfully at Benny and Vendela. "What are you guys? French? You're fucking rude enough for it."

The tall blonde woman ignored him. She took Gabrielle's hand. "I am Vendela Van Hoek, drummer for Gravid Havarti. My cousin and I have come to praise you. You have given us three minutes and forty-five seconds of pleasure despite our hatred of the Divinyls. I, in particular, wish very much to prove my great admiration for you." Her full lips brushed the dancer's knuckles.

Gabrielle was only momentarily impressed at the smooth move. "I'm not giving back the twenty dollar bill. Sorry."

"Twenty?" Benny blurted.

Vendela silenced him with a hiss worthy of the most commanding cobra.

Benny fumed. His English was not as precise and mellifluous as his cousin's. Nonetheless, he knew one phrase, and one phrase only, that might get him into Gabrielle's good graces, or maybe even her tight jeans. His barrel chest puffed out once again. "And I have killer weed!" he proclaimed.

He smirked as Gabrielle's green eyes flitted to him. "Wait—wait a minute." She pulled her hand away from Vendela. "Just what kind of weed is this?"

7. Love Songs, Nothing But Love Songs

Carrying a bucket of ice, Vendela tried creeping by Room 604 of the Red Roof Inn as quietly as possible. She, Benny, and Gabrielle had managed to elude Sven when they first came up to the room that she and Benny shared, but somehow the drummer knew she would not be so fortunate in avoiding the overbearing band leader a second time.

And she wasn't. The door of Sven's room swung open and the skinny lead singer, clad in his black silk silver-studded bathrobe and his hairnet, violently hissed her name. "Vendela! What do you think you're doing!"

Sven was the ultimate killjoy. Nothing sucked the life and desire out of her like the sight of his tight, disapproving face. It was like being caught masturbating by a maiden aunt. "Nothing!" she retorted defensively. "Leave us alone! We are adults, you know."

"You're horny idiots, both of you. I know who is in that room with you."

Vendela glared at him defiantly.

"Her name is Gabrielle and her girlfriend is a violent, sociopathic ex-convict." He smirked with triumph at the surprised look on her face. "Obviously, you weren't paying attention to the mechanic at the garage. He knows this Gabrielle—he used to be in love with her. She's off limits, Vendela. Get rid of her before you get us all in trouble."

"Go to hell!" she growled. He slammed the door shut as she stomped over to Room 606. She fumbled with the card, then, exasperated, pounded on the door. "It's me, open up!"

Benny opened the door. Vendela was relieved to see that he was still dressed, as was Gabrielle, who was sprawled on one of the two beds in the room. The poet wore a simple outfit of jeans and a hooded green pullover sweatshirt. Such clothing is an affront to the perfections of that body! Vendela wanted to shout. Most of their vodka had served as a chaser to the big, fat, primo Rhine Gold joint that the stripper had polished off earlier. She was now thoroughly trashed.

And still muttering about Zina. Always with this Zina person, Vendela thought with disgust. As far as she could figure out, Zina was a whore of epic proportions who watched bad TV and made a pretense out of atoning for a half-assed criminal record. I would treat you far better, my queen! Even Benny would, for God's sake.

Her bandmate was now noodling around on his guitar, plucking a simple repetitive chord and singing softly: "Gab-ri-elle/My heart will swell...."

"Don't quit your day job," muttered the poet in a rare—albeit stoned—moment of insensitivity. "Oh, wait...this is your day job." She burst into giggles.

Vendela felt a pang of pity for her sensitive cousin. "Benny, perhaps you should turn on the radio," she suggested. The guitarist nodded, and fumbled at the knobs on the nightstand's dusty, fake wood-paneled clock radio. "Gabrielle," she continued, "I have brought you ice, as you requested."

Like a reanimated corpse in a horror film, Gabrielle sat up all herky-jerky. "Excellent. Gimme." The Swedish drummer handed her the bucket of ice. Over the course of the next few minutes the musicians watched as Gabrielle—ice bucket balanced precariously on her lap—fumbled to remove her sports watch, a much-loved acquisition courtesy of 50 Cap’n Crunch box-tops. Finally she liberated it from her wrist and noisily buried it within the ice.

She handed the bucket back to Vendela, who exchanged a look with her cousin. Do you want to ask her? Vendela's look said. No. She's freaking me out now, Benny's retorted. The drummer took a breath. "Why," she slowly asked, "did you do that?"

Gabrielle's verdant, unfocused eyes locked with hers. "I'm trying to stop time."

She flopped back onto the bed and grabbed an empty bong near her head. She cradled it, humming, as if it were an infant.

Does she have any brain cells left? Vendela wondered. The drummer returned the ice bucket to the dresser. Emboldened by a tiny sliver of bare tummy visible from where Gabrielle's sweatshirt had ridden up, Vendela sat on the bed next to the poet. She was about to lie down next to that delectable body when, in sudden woozy distress, Gabrielle sat up. At the sound of sniffling, Vendela leaned forward and Benny knelt anxiously in front of his goddess. A large, glittering teardrop splashed against the bong that she held.

"Gabrielle, what is it? What's wrong?" Vendela cried.

More shiny, silvery tears fell from the poet's eyes. "This is…our song."

Radiohead's "Creep" was on the station.

The Swedish musicians gaped at one another. This was inconceivable. A love song? A love song was "Chiquitita." A love song was "Babe." A love song was "My Heart Will Go On." A love song was "You Light Up My Life." It was not this.

But Gabrielle could only remember the magic of that night at the Horn, when Zina—after seven Rolling Rocks—finally convinced Effie to let her sing the song while backed up by the Amazons, to Gabrielle and the tattered, late-night remnants of the crowd. Initially, the bar's patrons had actually grooved on the laid-back melody and Zina's soft, angelic alto. Then the drunken, menacing, six-foot tall lead singer snarled the beginning of the chorus at them: I wish I were special/You're so fucking special and Sally punctuated the mood's turn with that sinister, slashing guitar chord. By the end of the song, Gabrielle truly felt that Zina was only singing to her, only to her, and no one else. And she was: Everyone else had left, even Ray Bob, the bouncer.

The spirit of song, nonetheless, now infected the discourse at Room 606 of the Red Roof Inn:

"But she's a creep!" Vendela spat.

"She's a weirdo," added Benny.

Gabrielle jumped up. "What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here." The poet wavered. "I don't belong here," she repeated. The sudden lack of blood to the brain—and the pot and the booze—conspired like the three witches in Macbeth to send her toppling back onto the bed, utterly unconscious.

The salacious Swedes gazed upon the obtuse object of their desire, now snoring softly.

"Now what?" grumbled Benny.

Reluctantly, Vendela opted to do the right thing. "We take her back home. Sven wanted us to get rid of her anyway," she sighed.

"In this condition?" the guitarist asked nervously.

Vendela groaned in exasperation. "What other choice do we have?" She lifted one of the poet's deadweight arms by its wrist. "Look at her!" She dropped the arm, which fell on Gabrielle's stomach and caused an inadvertent squeak from the unconscious woman that startled them both. "Time to eat the doughnuts," Gabrielle murmured in a soft, dreamy singsong.

Benny's eyes lit up. "Krispy Kreme!"

His bandmate smiled in approval. "Excellent idea." Once more she gave the stoner poet a longing, wistful glance. "Benny?"

"Yes?"

"You don't suppose—I mean, how wrong could it be—?" The drummer's hand wavered above a tantalizing breast. "—just to touch them? Once?"

The guitarist's jaw dropped. "Vendela!" he hissed, appalled.

Vendela was not fooled by his outrage. She raised an eyebrow as temptation and sneaky lust danced across his face, his moral compass now crushed under their weight.

8. This is Not My Beautiful House. This is Not My Beautiful Wife.

In half-sleep, Zina sighed and squirmed. The bed felt good—too good. And the sheets were so soft. Must be that new fabric softener Gabrielle is using, she thought. Because they feel like silk. Just like when I used to sleep at Julie's…

Her eyes opened. The room was startlingly pristine, a crisp cream white. And it was not covered with faded blue wallpaper. And the dartboard was gone! And the sheets, which matched the walls, were truly spun from silk. Fuck. I am at Julie's! And I'm naked too! Gabrielle is gonna freak! She leaped out of the bed. Fuck! How did I get here? Fuck! I was just sitting at home—I didn't drink that much! Fuck!

The soft wall-to-wall carpet soothed her somewhat, and she took a deep breath. Don't panic. Find your clothes. Zina looked around the tidy room and its minimalist decor. Not a stitch of clothing was in sight. Not on the floor, or draped over the chair, or—she looked under the bed. Or under the bed. Frantically she opened one of the drawers of the teak dresser in the room. And found row upon row of neatly folded, clean t-shirts and jerseys. What the hell? Julie wouldn't be caught dead in stuff like this. She pulled out a large, Green Bay Packer jersey and slipped it on. Unless it's…The firefighter opened a second drawer, and saw many variations upon the standard, faded Levi's 501s that she always wore. Mine. This is my stuff.

And suddenly, like Saul on the road to Damascus, like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life, like Connie Selleca in Lifetime's But My Adopted Chinese Baby Has AIDS, she got it. She was doing the Alternate Universe Thingy, as introduced in the original Star Trek and expounded upon brilliantly in South Park. And she had no idea what to expect, except that Artie would not have a goatee and would be really nice and that Gabrielle would have a goatee and would be really evil. Right? The thought of Evil Goatee Gabrielle, she confessed to herself, was strangely, thrillingly scintillating.

She was now eager to see her brave new world. Zina padded through Julie's luxurious house—our luxurious house! She walked past a state-of-the-art weight room—in the blinding light of the chrome, she gasped with joy. Mine! Mine! Mine! She chanted this capitalist mantra as she dashed down the spiral staircase, past the big screen TV, the Mitchell Gold leather sofa, and into the kitchen. A middle-aged Latina woman in a sleek maid's uniform was cooking an omelet and ignoring her with the practiced coolness of hired help. Zina opened the refrigerator, and gasped once again at the most beautiful, most wondrous sight of all: Fields of shining, vivid green! Rolling Rock as far as the eye could see!

"Oh," she burbled, helpless with joy. Tears clogged her eyes.

Julie's stormtrooper staccato preceded her into the kitchen. Even so, Zina was not prepared for the affectionate nip upon her neck from the Culinary Fascist. "Good morning, darling. Sleep well?"

Zina said nothing, but remained staring into the nirvana of the open fridge.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. You seem to be running a bit low. I'll put a call in to Latrobe right away."

The firefighter tried to say "thanks," but could only manage a childlike squeak of happiness.

Julie turned her attention to the maid. "Macarena, you did remember to cook Zina's omelet directly in the bacon fat this time, did you not?"

"Si, Signora Caesar," the woman replied serenely, while quietly entertaining thoughts of murdering them all.

At the mention of "bacon fat" Zina slammed shut the refrigerator door and spun around. "Excellent!" she growled, following Julie into the dining room.

Julie sipped coffee as Zina sprawled in a chair, lazily awaiting her food. "Darling, I'm afraid I won't be able to breakfast with you this morning," she began, as Macarena entered and placed the steaming omelet in front of Zina, who tucked into it without hesitation. "But I'll leave the Porsche for you, since the Mustang is still being repaired."

Zina's baby blues bulged. Porsche? Mustang? Dear God in heaven, it's all perfect!

"Perhaps we could meet up later for lunch."

Zina, always a mere step away from turning into a happily mindless Sybarite anyway, nodded vigorously.

Julie leaned down for a quick kiss. "'Bye, darling. Oh, and one last thing…"

Zina, gobbling furiously, looked up.

"The pool cleaner is here." Julie patted her puffed-out cheek. "Pay her with the money I left in the dresser, would you? And don't get too flirty, dear. I know you like blondes, but really!" Julie's forced laughter ricocheted off the chandelier and the crystal ware, then splattered quite appropriately against the original Julian Schnabel lithograph on the wall.

And then Zina's feeling of euphoria tucked itself into Julie's Coach handbag and left with her. Damn. The unease filled her. She tried to ignore it as she decimated the omelet, but it lingered, like Julie's Chanel No. 5. She got up, stalked through the kitchen and past Macarena—who deigned to raise a questioning eyebrow—and slid open the door to the patio.

There, in front of the glistening pool, was pure pulchritude: A blonde woman—nay, the blonde woman to end all blonde women—in a tight sports bra and lycra shorts. She sprayed her sweaty face with a garden hose. Zina thought for a moment that Macarena had put hallucinogens in her omelet, for the pool girl flung her head back in a Flashdance-like slow mo and drops of water fell from her skin like rare, translucent, glowing pearls.

You would have to show up this soon and fuck up everything, wouldn’t ya?

The pool girl smiled at Zina.

And one hour later, the pool girl was coming in Zina's face. Her orgasmic bellows for God, Jesus, and country were laced with tasty bits of profanity as she dug her chlorine'd fingertips into Zina's scalp.

When she finally relinquished her hold on the dark hair, Zina came up for air, pillowing her head on a firm, sweet thigh. Absently, she wiped her face with the back of her hand as the girl's breath caught up with her.

"Wow, that was incredible!" the pool girl cried.

"Why is it that, even in the parallel universe, I'm still dumb as a doornail?" Zina muttered aloud. Everything is perfect, I have money, sex, freedom, even a Porsche, and all the beer I can drink…and I have to fuck it up somehow.

This time the girl's touch was gentle, as she raked her fingers through the black strands. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"No. Nothing."

She was still breathing heavily. Then she giggled. "I didn't get a chance to tell you my name—well, you didn't give me much of a chance, actually. I'm Gabrielle."

"I know," Zina retorted glumly.

"Oh. I guess Miss Caesar told you." There was a pause, and Gabrielle drew a deep satisfied breath, and Zina knew well that postcoital rambling would follow. "Hey. Um…"

"Zina."

"Zina? That's a pretty name." The comely pool girl—gee, you really went far in this existence, Gabrielle—was propped up on her elbows. "Zina, um, would you…like to go out sometime? Like just for a drink, even? I mean, I know it's really weird...we hardly know each other. Except carnally—you know, sexually. Um, I know—well, I assume you've got something going on with Miss Caesar, but I kinda like you. It's—well, you just seem like a nice person. And even if you just wanted to be friends that would be cool. But really, I gotta tell you, that mouth of yours...." She shook her head in pure admiration.

Oh, hell. Go on and do it, look at her and say yes. You know you want to, you frigging wuss. And so Zina looked up at Gabrielle, whose eyes were not as clear and dazzling as a Rolling Rock bottle, but something there—perhaps her innate kindness—made the firefighter feel weak. "Okay," she said softly.

Predictably, the door flung open. It was the Evil Parallel Universe Lieutenant Sulu and three red shirts. Actually, it was merely Julie and Macarena, the latter cradling an impressive-looking Glock handgun.

"Zina," Julie sighed. "I thought you would at least wait until you got to drive your new Harley."

A Harley? Zina's mind screamed. She glared at the naked, satiated Gabrielle. Who shrugged apologetically.

"I'm sure Crassus would like some company in his unmarked grave."

"Hey!" Gabrielle yelled. "How did you know—"

Julie waved a dismissive hand. "Macarena, if you will…"

Zina was leaping forward, covering Gabrielle's body with her own, when the shots rang out…

…and she woke with a violent, gasping shudder, her body spasming at the memory of each bullet. And with each twitch of her legs, the channels on the TV were changing. What the fuck? It was then that she realized the remote was lodged between her legs. She pressed her thighs together. WWF Smackdown flicked onto the screen. Hey. Cool.

The phone rang. She growled in frustration, jumped off the couch, and grabbed the receiver. "Yeah?"

"Hi! Uhhhh...is this Zina?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Well, um, I'm the manager of the Krispy Kreme—"

"Hey, I paid off our account there." The account was her euphemism for the time when Gabrielle—needing sugar and short of cash—ran out of the shop without paying for a dozen.

"—oh, I know. So you are Zina?"

Zina chose for once to ignore the paranoid little voices in her head—some of which sounded suspiciously like her mother—that told her this chirpy woman was a CIA agent. "Yeah."

"Well, um..." The woman trailed off and giggled self-consciously. "I'm your cousin. My name's Eve."

"Who?"

"Eve."

"Never heard of ya."

"Artie never mentioned me?" The young woman sounded hurt.

"Nope. But listen here, if he ever says he's sterile, or that he never had the clap, he's lyin', okay? Save yourself some trouble."

There was a long silence. "Oh."

"So why the hell are you callin' me, Evie?"

"Well, um, it's your girlfriend...she's passed out in the parking lot."

"What?" Zina shouted.

"Some weird foreigners left her here."

Zina's eyes bugged with anger. Earlier in the day, upon arriving home from her Rhine Gold expedition, she'd stopped at Sid's place, deciding to spread the wealth of her newly stolen stash. Sid had mentioned the members of the strange Scandinavian speed metal band who had taken a collective fancy to Gabrielle, and who had offered her some dope.

"She was sitting inside for a while. Then she walked out the exit and conked out, like, the minute she got outside. But, um, the people she was with put some pylons around her, so she should be okay." Eve's bright, chipper tone slashed through Zina's thoughts, both convincing herself and the brooding firefighter that nothing less than patently bizarre could be expected when a pothead slacker lesbian and a mediocre rock band collide.

* * *

And thus, Zina sailed to the rescue on her Harley.

She found Gabrielle just as Eve said—lying within a parking space surrounded by four bright orange pylons. It reminded her of when Lao Ma was going through her Yoko Ono phase and started doing weird art installment things at a gallery in New Mexico ("Lao at Taos," it was called). Lao had placed a half-eaten chocolate brownie on the gallery floor, in between two pylons. The viewer had to lie on the floor to read the message in 7-point type: Will the pylons of your soul protect you from your desires? (Zina, responsible for eating part of the brownie, was billed as a collaborator on the piece.)

Frowning with concern, Zina knelt beside Gabrielle. Her companion looked unharmed and was obviously just sleeping it off. Upon closer inspection the firefighter saw that Gabrielle's breasts appeared strangely rumpled. She tugged at the sweatshirt and quickly discerned that the poet's bra had been unhooked.

Zina felt a psychotic flash of red rage. I'm going to kill those fucking foreigners! She knew that her lover—no matter how furious or hurt she had been with Zina—would never permit tacky strangers to feel her up. Or worse. If only because she knew that Gabrielle detested metal music and thought anyone in such a band was "grody." She shivered away the anger, shaking her head violently. Relax. Later. She bit her lip in worry. Then, as if to dispel all her fears, she leaned in and quickly kissed Gabrielle on the mouth.

Just like in the fairy tale, the poet's eyelids fluttered open and a series of expressions passed over her face: fear, confusion, bliss. "Zina."

Zina's face burst into a grin at hearing her name spoken so softly, so reverently. "Hey."

"Why do I smell motor oil?"

"You're in the Krispy Kreme parking lot. Your, uh, little friends dropped you off here, then you passed out. The manager called me to come get you."

Gabrielle's fuzzy brain had no choice but to accept this strange tale. "Oh." Slowly, she sat up.

"Let me help you up. You ready to stand?"

"I think so." The poet latched onto her girlfriend's strong arms, and stood up. She stretched, then took a few moments to get her bearings. Something felt odd—something limp hung from her chest. "Hey, my bra!" She shot a look at Zina, who was trying to blink herself into an innocent state. "Oh, honey," Gabrielle cooed, "you just couldn't wait till we got home, could you?"

Could Zina bear to tell Gabrielle that horny Eurotrash had molested her? The firefighter smiled sheepishly. "Nope. I couldn't, baby."

"So we got our groove back, then?" The poet's expression was timidly hopeful.

"Yeah." Zina watched her own feet shuffle nervously. "Hell, I don't think we ever really lost it, ya know?"

Once again Zina's lawyer, parole officer, and the judge of her court case were proven wrong—a little white lie could be an enormously rewarding endeavor: The lovely poet jumped into the firefighter's embrace, wrapping her legs tightly around Zina's waist, and from there they proceeded to make out as if the world were ending.

And, in a strange way, it was. As Zina playfully tried to barricade Gabrielle's tongue from entering her mouth, she heard the distant, repetitive sound of a police siren. Despite the serious turn-on of publicly groping her girlfriend in a Krispy Kreme parking lot, the firefighter resolutely decided that she did not want to be anywhere near law enforcement officials of any kind. With the limpet-like Gabrielle firmly attached to her, Zina began to maneuver them in the general direction of the Harley. But instead of backing up against the worn leather and warm chrome of her hog, she literally delivered her ass into the welcoming grasp of Officer Minya.

Zina's lips did a cease-and-desist with her beloved's. A wary blue eyeball found Minya grinning slyly at them.

"Hey guys," the amiable trooper drawled.

"Minya?" Gabrielle was breathless. "What's up?" The poet disengaged herself from Zina, which gave Minya the opportunity to do what she was, nonetheless, very reluctant to do: She snared Zina's wrists—somewhat surprised at the lack of resistance—and clapped a pair of handcuffs on the firefighter.

"What the fuck is going on?" Gabrielle demanded. She looked at her lover. "Zina?"

"Er, Miss Amphisyphilis is under arrest for arson—"

Zina dipped her head, silently acknowledging the truth of the charge. She had known that someday this particular crime would catch up with her.

"Arson?" Gabrielle echoed. She threw up her hands in dismay. "What is it with you and fire?" she shouted.

"—and one count sexual relations with a minor. Do I have to do the Miranda thing with you?" Minya asked Zina. "Seems to me you should have it memorized by now."

But the outraged firefighter was too distracted by the second charge. "Minor? Minor? That fucking bitch told me she was 21!"

Of course—another ex-girlfriend, thought Gabrielle. Zina was being dragged with little effort from Minya—the cop was surprisingly strong. Yet she was placed into the back seat of the police car with care, Minya's hand on Zina's dark head gently shoving her in, like a midwife returning the baby to its well-deserved womb. The cop slammed the door shut and ambled over to the driver's side.

Desperately, Gabrielle lunged at the door and spoke to Zina through the open window. "Explain," she snarled.

"It happened 10 years ago."

"Why did everything happened 10 years ago?"

"Harmonic Convergence?" Zina hazarded a guess.

More like Unharmonic Psychosis, Gabrielle thought. "Never mind. Just tell me what happened."

"I was just showing Kimmy my little firebreathing trick…"

"Kimmy?" Gabrielle couldn't help it—her voice oozed with sarcastic cuteness. You never showed me the firebreathing trick!

"Kimmy."

"God, with a stupid name like that, I hope she was good."

"Nah." Zina shook her head. "Phony virgin," she mumbled. It was the truth, and they both knew it. For Zina could never keep her mouth shut about former lovers: Lao Ma made her multiorgasmic, Boris couldn't be tantric to save his life, Hank would sometimes yell "touchdown!" after coming, spanking with spatulas proved to be Julie's favorite foreplay...the list went on with excruciating detail. There were times when Gabrielle feared that she might be just another bit of minutiae in Zina's Sexual Trivial Pursuit, that someday the firefighter would be telling a new lover about her old flame Gabrielle, who used her firefighting helmet in a multitude of wanton ways, who had a toe fetish, who would sing "Now I’m a Cowgirl" while riding Zina….

Gabrielle shuddered at the list of sexual depravities that Zina could use against her. This was one reason for keeping the ex-con around. That and the love thing. God, I’m an idiot. "Don’t tell me—for the firebreathing, you used…"

"…tequila." Zina confirmed sadly.

It was the most flammable of drinks. "Fuck, Zina."

9. When Obligatory Flashbacks Attack: Ten Years Ago in Yokohama, Japan

Boris returned from losing a match with the local chessmaster—a seven-year-old who had him in check within two minutes—to find that his lover was not alone in their bedroom. He had every intention of being cool about it—he had learned his lesson with Lao Ma, or so he thought—until he heard himself screaming and stomping out of the bedroom with a dramatic slam of the door.

He paced and seethed. A few minutes later, Zina stumbled out of the bedroom, dressed, yet with wild, seriously tangled bed hair.

"Shouldn’t you comb your hair?" Boris suggested with his usual yet unique passive-aggressive flair.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I suppose I will have to, Zeeena. Since I noticed that someone else is in our bed."

She guzzled her morning beer. "Oh—her. Boris, I know it looks bad."

"It smells bad, too. You could at least wash your face."

"Hey—" She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. He winced as eau de muff diving slapped him in the face, and her voice dropped to a menacing whisper: "This is a big opportunity for us. The girl's father is Yodoshi Hirohito, one of the biggest 'Hello Kitty' distributors in North America!"

"Hel-lo Kit-tee?" he echoed.

* * *

"Hello Kitty?" Gabrielle interrupted the flashback in an accent considerably less charming than Boris's. "You mean like that stupid t-shirt Ming Tien is always wearing?"

Zina nodded. "It just got out of hand. The warehouse caught on fire." She paused, and her voice dropped to a cracked, anguished whisper. "Forty thousand 'Hello Kitty' purses, gone."

There was a moment of silence for the dearly departed merchandise.

"Well good fucking riddance!" Gabrielle yelled.

"That's my cue to peel out, right?" Minya asked hopefully, from behind the wheel.

"No!" cried the poet. Her vision swam with tears, yet Gabrielle's resolve—her faithful, steadfast love—did not waver. She clutched the car door, white knuckled. And while original words of inspiration and solace failed to come to her, something did float through to the forefront of her troubled mind, and thus she intoned the following: "I will find you. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you." No sooner were the sentences out of her mouth than she realized she was being Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans.

Zina, however, was ill informed of her role in the make-believe and winced with both irritation and confusion. "Gabrielle, I'm just goin' to jail."

Minya hit the gas and the police cruiser pulled out of the parking lot.

10. Girlfriend in a Stupor

There were times when I could have murdered her

But you know I would hate anything to happen to her

—the Smiths, "Girlfriend in a Coma"

With a majesty possessed by those who are vastly ignorant of their own innate dignity, Gabrielle sat atop the Saab motorbus with a 7-11 Big Gulp. She felt bad about taking the Saab from Bob's Garage (Purdy, of course, had been quite compliant in allowing her to abscond with the now-functioning vehicle owned by the Swedes who had insulted him), but she comforted herself—rather, justified the theft—by recalling Vendela's touching words of devotion: What I have is yours, my love. For fate would have it, the motorbus's registration was in the drummer's name.

So far being a fugitive from justice was fun: She was an accomplice to a known felon, in a stolen vehicle no less, and with a large stash of dope and several peyote tablets in the glove department. Well, she thought with sanctimonious irritation, it was all Minya’s fault. If the sheriff hadn’t been so innately, irresistibly corruptible, and thus hadn’t succumbed to the temptation of a lap dance in exchange for Zina’s freedom, Gabrielle would still be a law-abiding citizen. Although Zina would be still rotting in jail.She hoped that Minya would be successful in at least convincing the Hirohitos to drop the charges; perhaps Eli’s offer of unlimited anime rentals would help soften their hard hearts.

Putting aside these tumultuous thoughts, Gabrielle reclined on the bus, eyes closed, drinking in the sun. Cyrene was right, there was nothing quite like sunbathing on top of a motor vehicle. She could feel the light and the heat sink deep into her bones, dissolving them. She was liquid, expanding, flowing free from the constraints of her body and from time. She was seeing and experiencing alternate time lines, the past, the future, and a new present.

In this vision of the present, Zina was still in jail and about to be executed for her crimes. All of her crimes, even sleeping with the 16-year-old girl scout. She was strapped into an electric chair, with a really bad, fucked-up Siousxie-and-the-Banshees kind of short hairdo. The switch was thrown and a gazillion bolts of electricity fried her lover into a pile of ashes.

"Zina," she whimpered aloud.

"Gabrielle."

The poet opened her eyes, attempting to blink away the effects of phosphene, even though multicolored dots and blobs and dashes remained floating in her sight. She was curled fetally, still on top of the motorbus, face to face with the Big Gulp. The voice came from the benevolent font of bubbling Sprite within the red container. "Zina?" she repeated.

"Gabrielle, what the fuck are you doing?" the Big Gulp demanded.

"Zina? Why are you there? Come back to me!" Lovingly she stroked the sweaty container.

The large red cup sighed. "Oh, for Christ's sake."

The world thundered, and the poet sat up with a gasp, knocking over the Big Gulp, spilling its sticky clear fluid all over the bonnet of the Saab.

Zina had jumped up onto the roof of the motorbus. Crouched like a panther, she grinned, pleased with herself. Then she shot a mock-scowl at the poet. "You ate a peyote tablet, didn't you?"

"I—" Gabrielle's eyes shifted guiltily.

"Eli told you to wait until we got into the Mojave."

"Aren't we?"

"Toto, we're still in fuckin’ Kansas."

"Oh."

"You probably got sunstroke now too."

The poet covered her eyes. "Do not."

Zina sighed and sat down next to her, yet as far away from the Sprite spill as possible. She pulled an old Oakland Raiders cap out of her back pocket and gently placed it on Gabrielle's head, shielding her eyes from the sun.

The poet basked in the musty, sweaty scent emanating from the cap. "Wow, you're letting me wear your Raiders cap. We must be in love or something."

"I reckon so." The firefighter sighed again, this time happily. They were quiet for a minute. "How long do you think before they drop the charges?"

"I dunno, baby. I figure it won't be too long. They'll soon get bored hanging around the county."

"Ya think? Hell, we never got bored hanging around the county."

"We’re idiots. They’re city types. They need neon lights and people driving badly."

Zina hummed skeptically. "So after we go to the desert, then what?"

"Oh, I don't know. We can go anywhere you want."

"We could go to Mexico!" Zina's blue eyes brightened.

"Don't you need a passport for that? I don't have one."

"I dunno—but we can get you one, easy. I know this fella in El Paso, he can put together a passport for you just like that." Zina snapped her fingers and pulled her own passport out of a back pocket. "He did one for me."

Gabrielle took the small document and opened its cover. The photo was Zina, sure enough, although the name read "Ellie Mae Ghurkhan." At the poet's look of puzzlement, Zina said, "Well, it always helps to have an alias, and Ghurkhan was my married name…" In a hapless attempt to take back the words, she bit the inside of her mouth. Oh fuck.

"You were married?"

"Just for a teeny bit..."

"Who's Ghurkhan?"

"It don't matter now, he's dead."

"How did he die?"

"Can we not talk about this now?" Zina tried furiously to work up some crocodile tears. "Let's just say I was the happiest woman in Denmark." When he died, that is.

Gabrielle scowled.

Zina patted the poet’s thigh. "Don't fret, baby, I just married him for his cigar plantation."

"Like that should make me feel better." Gabrielle put her arms behind her head. "So why do you want to go to Mexico?"

"I got an idea."

"That's what I was afraid of."

Zina ignored this and pulled out a picture of Harley—their niece, not Zina's beloved hog. "What we do is this: We get to some little town—a nice town—an' show this picture to all the locals, see, an' they'll think I'm in league with the Chupacabra, an' they'll, like, start payin' me tribute to protect them from the beast!" She grinned with maniacal pleasure.

"And then maybe if things go real well, we could buy our own boat. And we could sail around everywhere do a little, ah, tradin' here and there—or maybe not," she added quickly, at Gabrielle's disapproving look. "But there's quite a business in white slavery, ya know." Zina's eyes darkened, recalling the time that Boris knocked her unconscious with a bottle of Jack Daniels and tried to sell her to Lao Ma's uncle. She shook the thought from her mind. "Or," she continued, "we could just open a casino on board..."

Gabrielle stared at her. Was she serious? Was she joking? Was she crazy? The poet burst out laughing. Because it didn't matter. "God, you are so fucked up."

"But you still love me, right?" Zina dipped her head expectantly. She hesitated a second, perhaps wondering—and fearing—what Gabrielle's response would really be. Could you still love me, even though I put you through so much crap? Even though I ruined your original copy of On the Road, even though I dragged you across the lawn when your shoelace got caught in the weed-whacker, even though I knocked you unconscious while playing Frisbee with the lid of a crock pot? I still love you, but is that enough?

Gabrielle just smiled and lifted her head. Her answer was in the kiss.

The End

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #femslash #fanfiction #author: vivian darkbloom #mature

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douxreviews · 5 years

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American Gods - ‘Donar the Great’ Review

Shadow: "If I upset you back there…" Wednesday: "It wasn’t you. Ghosts from the past."

American Gods serves up its first unequivocal triumph of the season.

There have been good episodes in season two prior to this one, I want to make that clear. But 'Donar the Great' is the first time all year that I haven't been mentally comparing what I'm watching to the previous season at any point. 'Donar the Great' is, as described, great. Really, really great.

We're told a story in two halves. On the one hand, we're told the story of that time back in the late 1930s when Wednesday was known as Al Grimnir and owned a burlesque club in Chicago. On the other we watch as the present day Wednesday and Shadow continue in their attempt to get Wednesday's spear fixed; a quest in which Lou Reed features to a surprising and delightful degree. Sprinkled between these two plotlines we get a few check-ins with Mr. World and New Media, primarily just to remind us that they're still out there.

Since that strand of the episode is the least of the three, let's talk about that one first. Last week I complained a bit about the fact that they wasted a lot of time getting Shadow and Wednesday to the Dwarf-king so that they could get the spear fixed, only to be told that he couldn't do it and they'd have to go see a different dwarf instead. I said then, and stand by the statement, that this was a huge waste of time in the episode that could have been better spent exploring Samedi and Brigitte.

The same is not true of the side scenes with New Media and Mr. World this week, for a couple of reasons. First, they're far briefer, and so they don't feel as intrusive. Second, and more pertinently, they don't promise a plot development and then at the last second announce that they aren't going to do that after all and, 'oops, I guess we'll have to wait till next week, sorry.' Instead, Mr. World, New Media, and that third guy (who I think is supposed to be someone called 'The Caretaker', if IMDb is to be believed) achieve a few small things and then get out of the episode's way.

First, they establish that Mr. World is making tactical strikes in the coming war; a truck driver killed with a hammer, a lobster tank smashed, etc. Speaking of, if those strikes he references actually refer to something specific that I'm not picking up on, could you please mention it in the comments, because I have nothing. Second, they establish that New Media is 'powering up' somehow by rousing her followers in what I think was Japanese, but could be wrong. Why he needs her to do this we don't yet know. Third, they plant the seed that New Media needs more tech support and that the boys in the valley assure Mr. World that their 'new friend' would be ready 'in time.' I'm just going to say what we're all thinking; they're setting up a new version of Technical Boy, hence keeping Bruce Langley around this week in the flashback. I'm OK with that, if it means more Bruce Langley.

As to the burlesque flashbacks, all I can say is that they were wonderful and I want them to do a touring show so I can go see them live every single night. Ian McShane absolutely crushes his role as Al Grimnir, and I'm very surprised to check out his Wikipedia page and find out that he doesn't have any background in Broadway or musical theater, because he owns it. I wouldn't describe his voice as strong in a traditional sense, but it's just dripping with character and what I can only describe as salesmanship. Someone please cast him as Billy Flynn in a revival of Chicago, sooner rather than later.

It was a good decision to go with the name 'Donar,' rather than the more recognized 'Thor' for Odin's son, by the way. Derek Theler absolutely hits it out of the park, playing a very different take on this god, but it was wise of them to do as much as they could not to invite comparisons with Chris Hemsworth, when what they're doing with that particular god is so vastly unrelated to what Marvel is doing.

What they're doing, as you ask, is a really nice riff on the classic 'boy and girl fall in love and plan to run away together to escape the dire circumstances of their lives, but are tragically prevented from doing so by cruel twists of fate.' There are hundreds of examples of this story, but West Side Story and the stage version of Little Shop of Horrors are the first examples that leap to mind.

Fate, in this case being Mr. Wednesday/Al Grimnir/Odin, who reminds us forcefully in this episode that he's an untrustworthy bastard who will do anything to achieve his own goals. His desire for a new source of worship leads him to destroy both his own son and Columbia, whom he seems to be fond of prior to ruining her.

Lastly, we have Wednesday and Shadow giving a eulogy for shopping malls and conning their way into possession of Lou Reed's jacket, as it's the most powerful object in the mall, and Dvalin the dwarf needs power if he's going to fix the runes on Wednesday's spear. One thing the series has been very clear on is that all of the gods' power comes from belief. Wednesday even explicitly says so this week. With that in mind, it makes perfect sense that Lou Reed's jacket would be a source of power. Wednesday's description of Lou Reed's importance is not wrong. The Velvet Underground's first album is often described as, 'It was purchased by 200 people. And every single one of them went out and formed a band that changed the world.' That sentence is true.

As a bonus, the way they get the jacket,'The Bishop Game' con, is described in the novel in conversation, but it's so much better to see it acted out here, particularly with Shadow being part of it instead of just hearing about it.

Quotes:

Wednesday: "Playing dead convincingly is an underrated skill."

Wednesday: "Dies irm, dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla. Teste David cum Sibylla." These are the opening lines of the Requiem Mass, and the amount of contempt that Ian McShane manages to put into them is amazing.

Nancy: "Double up on that nipple tape, Ecdysiasts, nobody comin’ her to see your areolas. It’s Donar’s moose knocker that brings all the boys to the yard."

Nancy: "Get yo’ face out the mirror. Get your ass on the stage. I’m gon’ count to seven. And I’m starting at four!"

Wednesday: "What say you, son of Emir? Want to etch my runes?"

Manfred the Nazi: "We’re an organization with American values, and we see those values in you. Strength, confidence, good breeding. Donnie… what’s your last name?" Donar: "I don’t have one."

Donar: "I accept your proposition, fiend of Germany."

Music store guy: "Want to try this puppy on?" Wednesday: "Is Martin Luther a Lutheran?" Music Store Guy: "…Yes…? I have no idea."

Donar: "Humans serve us, not the other way around."

Bits and Pieces:

-- So Columbia was essentially the first 'Goddess of America', based on how America saw itself in the beginning. That's actually more or less true, by the way. Her name was derived from Christopher Columbus, and it's why the Capitol is Washington District of Columbia.

-- Which means that Donar's sin, from Odin's point of view, was falling in love with America instead of siding with him, and by proxy the old countries.

-- It's implied that due to event here Columbia gave in to Technical Boy (then Telephone Boy) and rebranded herself for the war effort, becoming Rosie the Riveter, hence the presence of that poster behind Donar in his room in 1942.

-- One of the interesting threads this season is the way it's making it clear that the stark delineation between new gods and old gods is basically a load of horseshit. Columbia got replaced by a rebranding of a Roman Goddess, Libertas. Telephone Boy is warned here that eventually the telephone won't be the cool new thing, and we see the beginning of his evolution into Technical Boy. All the gods we see are in a constant process of evolving or withering.

-- That said, we're all agreed that immediately after this Columbia went to Frank-N-Furter's castle and hung out until the '70s, right? Because I need these two properties to exist in continuity with one another.

-- Wednesday's burlesque house is very gay friendly, and is openly acknowledged to be so. This confirms that he just enjoys teasing Ifrit and Salim and isn't particularly bothered or surprised by their relationship. But we kind of knew that.

-- Hello, muscly cowboys.

-- It makes sense that a success for the Nazis would actually have been a plus for Wednesday. As the Wagner we hear tonight reminds us, the Nazis were huge into Norse mythology. Wednesday would have been rolling in belief if they'd won.

-- Sindri the dwarf has a curious reaction when he hears Shadow's name, which we never get an explanation for. Are we going to find out why?

-- Both Derek Theler and Laura Bell Bundy brought it and brought it hard as guest stars this week. I'd happily have either or both back any time.

-- Nobody really believes that Donar committed suicide, right? That shot was very carefully framed so that we saw Donar's hand on the barrel of the shotgun, but did not see the stock or the trigger. We're all pretty much assuming Wednesday pulled the trigger, right?

An absolute gem of an episode. It's not quite 'A Prayer for Mad Sweeney,' but it's very, very close.

Hey, it's the little girl from the first Jumanji film. Yeah, feels creepy now, doesn't it.

Just the tiniest bit under four out of four moose knockers.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#American Gods #Shadow Moon #Mr Wednesday #Laura Moon #Mad Sweeney #Mr Nancy #Bilquis #American Gods Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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lesbianyennefer · 7 years

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ok ive finished andromeda and so im gunna collate my final gathered thoughts below:

All in all its been a good game but for the first time in my life in not just a mass effect but a bioware game i dont LOVE it i cant even say i think its very good - ive even been edging on outright disinterest and boredom at various points throughout. bioware games for all their faults have always made me get fully into their stories get completely immersed in the world and in mass effects case in their characters too. but andromeda is the first time ever that i find myself saying if someone asked me how good it was i would say meh. if someone asked me how the latest installment in my favourite thing to exist on this planet was i would say meh. as someone who for whom the original trilogy is genuinely my favourite thing in existence there arent words for how much it upsets me. im not even like ‘i wanna play again!!!’ like i usually am because im usually still so immersed in the world. here are some thoughts and delving deeper into the things that stood out to me:

- the writing: its poor. there have been a few funny moments and lines and most of the main quest dialogue lines are good but compared to what we are used to from mass efefct it PALES. only one moment of real enjoyment stands out to me in the entire game and that was the movie night one - of the only moments in the game I got happy about like the original trilogy. the writing for dialogue not just with npcs but with companions is often clunky, nonsensical, boring and adds nothing to furthering knowledge/relationships. i honestly couldnt tell you a lot about many of them because the conversations didnt pertain to actually getting to know them. it says in the codex that they all consider me close friends but its never been mentioned that they even considered me one nor can i recall when the friendship actually got going or how we reached the ‘close’ part. similarily a lot of criticism from critics was about the base elements being rehashed from the original and its true. so much has just been copy pasted from the ot in a way that actually makes this version less interesting. the big ‘reveals’ in the story are also so badly done that when jaal mentioned the angara were made by the jaardun is it? i didnt have a wow moment like mass effect has given me in the past i was so confused by everything going on i was just like what? nobody seemed to make a big deal out if either considering an entire race just found out they were genetically engineered. the only real ‘wow’ moment i had in the game was finding out ellen ryder was still alive and jien garson was murdered and even then you cant tell anyone and its pretty much forgotten!! ryder knows that jien was murdered by possibly this benefactor who seems to have ulterior motives for all of them and she also knows the reapers invaded and as far as shes aware eradicated the entire milky way. maybe thats something that should be shared with leadership hmm? (as much as i hate tann)

- the plot: touching on the last the plot was, to me, nothing to write home about. ive always enjoyed that mass effect has a linear storyline that you get stuck into and follow through at a good pace. now i know they said andromeda was going to be more exploration based game - which i would normally like! - but not when the exploration has almost nothing to do with the main story and is so fucking much that you could play for 3 days 12 hours a day and not get to the next bit of the main storyline!! when you space it out too much the audience - or i - loses all connection with the sporadic main plot and what we are actually supposed to be doing so much so that by the time you go to play the next segment you dont even really know why youre there or whats going on. similarly the plot never made me go :O which the ot did a lot. an example ive mentioned before is that seeing the citadel always makes me go ahhh!!! the nexus by comparison is pretty boring. despite its flaws i love the storyline surrounding the reapers and it always gets me each time i play. sitting her writing this if you asked me to detail the main plot of andromeda i honestly couldnt. i cant remember what i did or in which order. theres no substance or linearity.

- the exploration: i again cant believe im saying this but swtor a mmo game from 2011 has more interesting open worlds with more MANAGEABLE and relevant side quests than andromeda. they might be beautiful but none of the worlds stood out to me - though i loved elaaden and the downed remenant ship star wars reference. i dont mind doing a few bland side quests but when there in the 50s and they lead you on goose chases across entire planets i begin to get agitated. i cant recall the amount of times i had to go back to planets like kadara for one 5 minute firefight and a couple of lines of dialogue. going through the galaxy map animations, the landing animations, the lift down to the slums then crossing the threshold to actually reach the map to THEN find your destination? yeah im pretty done by then.

- side quests: tying into the above side quests! bioware hinted theyd learned a lesson from dai and taken inspiration from the witcher 3 for their approach to side quests and they appear to have done neither. there are MORE side quests than there were in dai and i actually didnt mind dais but andromedas have become an issue for me - probably because there were so godamn many. they dont have any baring on the story and they are bland and uninteresting mostly fetch quests. i hate bringing the witcher into this because i dont like giving praise to cd projekt red but the truth is bioware could stand to ACTUALLY learn from the witcher 3. the side quests in that are small in number, long in plot and actually connected to the main story. they dont make you feel like youre straying from the plot, their content is deep and very good and they quite often have major consequences. see triss’ quests in novigrad. one thing i will say is they did seem to take a little of the last into andromeda. some choices have consequences ie saving the salarians over the krogan. that was pretty cool but still underdeveloped.

- the relationships: by the end of the story i can say I love all my squadmates despite the fact that i feel like i barely got the chance to know them (the only one il say i dont know at all well enough to love em is gil who has no content aside from the incredibly uncomfortable jill storyline and i wonder why hes the negelected one hmm?). i loved how they moved around and talked to each other but the amount of times i went round to see them and they had nothing to say was a LOT compared to the fact that in me3 everytime you went to see someone they had something (or multiple somethings) to say often without having to enter into a cutscene style animation just to see if they actually want to talk. in terms of romantic relationships ( i romanced peebee) i was disappointed by how little your romanced companion interjects on the story. at least in peebees case there was very little content and she seemed hardly bothered when my ryder got injected then killed herself and then died AGAIN to save them aside from a little snarky “hands off” comment when the archon grabbed her face. she mentioned a little bit back on the ship but compared to me3 and how liara/garrus/ash/kaidan would interject a lot on mission and have hints to their romance sprinkled throughout it felt like another forgotten thing. not one person on the ship mentioned me and peebee aside from a quick thing from sam when i went to see him in my cabin. also jazzed up sex scenes dont mean anything if the rest of the relationship is bland and overlooked. i prefer liara and sheps me3 scene 10x over peebees (my little gay heart still cries).

- the music: WHERE WAS THE MUSIC??!?! one of my favourite things about games FULLSTOP and the cherry on top of mass effect has always been the music. to this day i love the atmosphere that noveria creates and vigil makes me fucking cry. the suicide mission gets me pumped and leaving earth leaves a gaping hole in my chest. (diverting a bit even dai had fantastic music. in hushed whispers, the lost temple and thedas love theme are among my faves.) aside from the heleus galaxy map music and the ambient from that one destroyed planet i cant recall a single piece of music that stood out. i can remember about 3 tunes overall the map, the main menu and the one that plays a lot when you fight kett. there wasnt even any proper ambient music for the worlds!!!!! there arent words for how upset i am that theres no fucking mission themed bangers. im just really sad about this.

i think at the end of the day a big reason for me why i havent loved it is because as ive said before it doesnt feel like mass effect to me. to a pretty great extent i think the reason for this is the decision to move to the Andromeda galaxy. the absence of shep and the crew and the normandy is another huge factor but rather unavoidable in terms of continuing the games, but moving to andromeda has robbed the series of everything that made it mass effect. the mass relays, the citadel, the council, the alliance, earth, thessia, palaven they all made mass effect mass effect. Not to mention the quarians (one of my fave races ever), the drell, the volus, hanar, batarians, vorcha they were all a part of what mass effect IS. even the architectural style of the colonies, the nexus its all different and it doesnt have any connection to the ot and the world it created. andromeda feels like its own game completely unrelated to mass effect and one that when considered on its own has an incredibly shaky foundation and sporadic storytelling. at the end of the day it was fun to pass the time but as a huge mass effect fan i feel it was incredibly disappointing and to be quite honest i dont consider it a part of the mass effect i love.

#i guess this is kinda like a review lmao #but yeah ofc heavy me:a spoilers #becky speaks

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Staff Picks: Our Favorite Anime of 2019

Welcome to the third post of our annual “Staff Picks,” in which the Ani-Gamers team selects some of our favorite anime, manga, and video games of the past year. This time we’re covering anime!

If you’re strictly looking at the anime output of 2019, it was yet another great year. An ambitious second season of Mob Psycho 100, highly anticipated CG productions like Promare and Beastars (still not available on Netflix!), a new music-focused series from Shinichiro Watanabe (Cowboy Bebop), and Netflix’s big US-Japan co-production of Cannon Busters, among many others. On top of that, Evangelion made its triumphant return to North America thanks to Netflix, stirring up some new controversy along the way.

Unfortunately, all that good stuff was clouded by the worst anime news in decades: a brutal arson attack at Kyoto Animation that left 36 people dead, 33 more injured, and many of the studio’s production materials and digital backups destroyed. The attack represented not only a major tragedy for the anime industry, but the worst mass murder in post-war Japanese history. The victims included acclaimed veterans like Yoshiji Kigami and countless young artists, many of them just out of college and eager to begin work at their dream job. KyoAni was one of the few studios with a reputation for treating their workers with the dignity that they deserve, making the loss of their talented, passionate staff all the more painful. Thankfully, KyoAni has managed to gather a huge number of donations from fans to support the victims’ families and the studio has resumed production, with the new Violet Evergarden movie scheduled for April 2020.

Below, Ink and Evan have listed some of their favorite anime titles of 2019, covering TV series and movies, action series and comedies. Enjoy, and feel free to chime in with your own 2019 picks in the comments.

Ink

#3: The Magnificent Kotobuki

It’s not that I see this title qualifying as one of the best anime of the year, it’s just that, as a WWII plane otaku and airshow enthusiast, The Magnificent Kotobuki (TMK) is one of my personal favorite anime from this past year. Watching TMK is like watching someone play Crimson Skies: High Road to Revenge but with much more attention paid to the planes’ mechanical details and exterior wear as well as some very convincing weight dynamics applied to the dogfights. (The dogfights, by the way, range from intimate 1-on-1’s to squad based to air force against air force (and everything in-between) – all presented in loving detail with so many different angles and approaches that they are definitely the stars of the show.) The characters, save Captain Dodo (the stone-faced badass pictured above), are superfluous, but there’s a fair amount of comedy (mostly stock but some original gags) that works well because of the characters and how they’re used that keeps the show entertaining even when not in the air. The only downside, and it isn’t much of one, is the 3DCG animation used most noticeably for the characters; it stands out like a sore thumb against more organic backgrounds, but not so much as to make the show unwatchable. I looked forward to each episode release every single week.

#2: Wasteful Days of High School Girls

I stand by my original description of Wasteful Days of High School Girls (WDoHSG) as Teekyu x Azumanga Daioh with a load of wit via well-placed running gags and impeccably timed, snarky one-liners. It’s cast is a large ensemble, and the show does well via piecemeal introductions that eventually allow the characters’ traits and tendencies to be expressed and received differently depending on which characters are present – the depiction thereof, as someone prone to excessive compartmentalization, I appreciate quite a bit. Watching people bounce off of other people to varying degrees is great, and the aforementioned timing, crucial to any comedy, is spot-on, but WDoHSG also leverages repetition of animation and situational cuts to great effect. I’d be failing the show completely if I did not mention its AOPOTY (Anime OP of the Year), which consists of an all-female (VA-sung), almost nonsensical, gag-filled rap/pop track ("Wa! Moon! dass! cry!") that initially backs the narrative of a photo-bombing Tanaka as she takes candids of her friends (the cast) and later delves into visual gags and welcome randomness that gets more fun as you get to know the characters. WDoHSG is nothing deep, but it’s a show that consistently makes me belly laugh, and that’s exactly what I needed this year.

#1: Carole & Tuesday

After watching the initial trailer for Shinichiro Watanabe’s new music-focused joint, I was skeptical; the guitar playing animation seemed loose, how much could you do with a keyboard, and something just felt off in general. (Watanabe has said he doesn’t like loose depictions of music being played — one of the reasons Kids on the Slope was so intricately animated.) I was very happy to put my initial impressions behind me, however, very soon after I started watching the series proper. It’s a title with a ton of heart that wants to resolve issues stemming from socio-economic disparity through the creation of art. The topic of privileged creator vs. struggling artist is addressed too lightly and almost dismissed via casual acceptance in the first season; resolutions come a little too easily, and arguments that should be had are, for the most part, laughed off in the face of loneliness/desperation. That, however, feeds into the show’s main focus which is healing and growth through friendship and creation/expression — coming together to be something more than yourself by being a part of something greater to which you personally contribute. And that really sets up the second cour. The pacing is rushed but no unacceptable, and the characters are as charming as they are amusing (and vice-versa), but the main reason why this is my favorite of the year is simply that it got me to watch an in-series version of a reality TV show that was, itself, fun, funny, and increasingly tense.

Evan Minto

#3: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Golden Wind

The hits keep on coming for JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Following up on last year’s excellent Diamond is Unbreakable, Golden Wind takes us to Italy to check in on Giorno Giovanna, the son of infamous vampire Dio. Golden Wind’s cast lacks the easy charm of Josuke, Okuyasu, Koichi, and Rohan, and it’s hard to hold a candle to Yoshikage Kira in the villain department, but at least for me the leads aren’t the real stars of this show. In Golden Wind, Araki’s overactive imagination seems to get a bit of a power-up, as everything from the costumes to the Stand powers becomes even less plausible (and thus, better). Characters walk around wearing entire outfits riddled with holes for fashion reasons. Enemy stands can do things like accelerate the aging of everyone in a train or — get this — spawn a baby assassin out of a briefcase. David Production, too, are at the top of their game on this latest adaptation, continuing their strong command of Araki’s unique character design style while bringing in new animators to craft dazzling action and effects sequences. Stone Ocean is on the horizon and I couldn’t be more excited.

#2: Mob Psycho 100 II

When it comes to anime adaptations of ONE manga series, I was always a One-Punch Man guy — there’s nothing quite like watching the coolest action concepts crumble into dust under the scrutiny of ONE’s sardonic, anticlimactic sense of humor. But 2019 brought us second seasons for both of his big series, and let’s put it this way: I didn’t even bother with the second season of One-Punch. Mob Psycho 100 Season 2 is a stellar follow-up to what was already an excellent first season (it was one of my Staff Picks back in 2016). The season picks up thematically where the previous one left off, as psychic middle-schooler Mob seeks self-improvement and greater self-confidence. Sometimes the show’s character arcs feel like retreads (the faux-psychic con man Reigen is as devious and manipulative as ever), but then it unexpectedly dives down dramatic avenues that push the characters to their breaking points. More than anything else, however, Mob Psycho is worth watching for the dazzling artistry on display in nearly every frame of every sequence. Action scenes crackle with energy, and the animators spare no expense detailing the supersonic whiplash and earth-rending force of the series’ many psychic battles. What has always set Mob Psycho above the rest, though, is the fact that even the scenes of daily life are beautifully animated, full of loose, expressive, and frequently laugh-out-loud funny character acting. This is one of the best-looking shows in years, and highly recommended for any fans of great animation.

#1: Promare

No anime experience of 2019 can compare to sitting in the largest ballroom at Anime Expo in Los Angeles, cheering and hooting along with the crowd as I watched Promare for the first time. Studio Trigger’s first feature film plays out like a compressed version of Kill la Kill and Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann; it’s one magnificent set piece after another, strung together by a series of unlikely twists and betrayals. The gags are fast and exceedingly dumb, the characters are larger than life, and oh yeah, it’s about gay firefighters duking it out with eco-fascists. On top of that, the film’s eye-popping, candy-colored world is powered by a groundbreaking 2-D/3-D hybrid production, utilizing the best talent at both Trigger and their sister studio Sanzigen and merging their two styles into a unified whole. Promare may not be my favorite from its creative team (Kill la Kill and Gurren Lagann are tough acts to follow), but it provided me with more pure, unpretentious fun than anything else this year. I liked it so much I made a whole damn website to celebrate it!

Check out our 2019 Manga Staff Picks and 2019 Video Game Staff Picks too!

Staff Picks: Our Favorite Anime of 2019 originally appeared on Ani-Gamers on January 9, 2020 at 2:47 AM.

By: Ink

#Anime #News #Ani-Gamers

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tube-thoughts-blog · 6 years

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tube thoughts vol. 4

zero stars - terrible, 1/2 a star - dull, 1 star - folly, 1 1/2 stars - lacking, 2 stars - fair, 2 1/2 stars - decent, 3 stars - terrific

Scarecrows (1988) *Through betrayal, and hellish karma, a well armed and military trained heist squad has to ditch flying, under the radar, and land in a demonic cornfield next to an abandoned and creepy farmhouse.* 2 1/2 stars

Fright Night Part 2 - (1988) *In therapy for vampire paranoia. driving around in a yellow mustang -like Kolchak the Night Stalker -another vampire hunter. take the skinheads bowling. werewolf with a mullet. performance artists worse than plague. Elvira tries to replace Vincent Price on late night. Salma Hayek esque lioness snakecharms her own Edward Cullen that she can firepoker for eternity.* 3 stars

Freddy's Nightmares: "It's A Miserable Life" *A worse fate than getting gunned down running the burger drive thru, late at night, is being stuck in a death-dream where you can't quit your burger drive thru job.* 1 1/2 stars *An unlucky (Friday 13th) 'new blood' drifts into the nightmare ward of the hospital.* 3 stars

Z Nation: Home Sweet Zombie *Zombies in Tornado Alley. firefighter zombies. Jamaican bbq rat. Murphy-- my favorite asshole of the apocalypse. powerdrill skull surgery. playing cards for pills. electric- picket-fence and nice lawn. sympathy for the z. Wizard of Oz munchkin joke after a zombie-nado.* 2 1/2 stars

Z Nation: Resurrection Z *Religious nuts who worship zombies (seen that before). safe haven that's not so safe (seen that before). wolves in sheep's khakis. clean and bathed zombie apocalypse survivors (I like that better than the filthy TWD). turning Z for the Lord. zombie food fight. Murphy's Z immunity. Zombiefreak Jerry Falwell gonna turn you z to save thee. Murphy- Messiah of the Nation Z. Z Nation's 'Rick' more heroic than TWD's Rick?* 2 1/2 stars

"Hack-O-Lantern" *Pumpkin' lovin', prissy, and pretentious paw paw wants his grandson (that he, himself, fathered on his daughter's wedding day) to grow up to be Lucifer's lantern. The boy comes of age and is a menace, daydreaming, with his headphones on, about being heavymetal seduced by Pat Benatar and Queen of the Damned-- Aaliyah, keeping an altar to the goat one and candles from bed-bath-beyond, having a pentagram tattooed butt cheek showing, in public, punk girlfriend & doing prison yard exercises-- locked away in his room all day preparing for his ascension. Plus a creep, in a cheap mask, carving people up. This kind of crap had cornpones carried away with the occult.* 1 1/2 stars

--- Paranormal State: Season 1 episode 1

*These ghost hunting shows can really oversell and under deliver in thrills.

Ghost Adventures has nice cinematography when they're showing the spooky places, but when they turn the lights off the three jerks go a little too over the top in their moronic pursuit of the paranormal.

Ghost Hunters is bland. Just a group of average joes who look like they're tired from working a day job.

"Hunters" has nothing that's aesthetically pleasing or interesting in its framing and when they turn the lights off it's just as underwhelming as the rest of them.

This show, Paranormal State, suffers the same fate, with the phony tech and justifying the so-called bumps in the night as ghosts, but I do like the 'earnestness' and the cast of college age investigators and in this episode they at least make an awkward little boy feel good about himself and relieve his family of related stress.

It doesn't get to the point of exploiting the kid & family as they're entertaining us with a spook reality tale, I guess.*

2 1/2 stars

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Crystal Lake Memories -----------------------------

*Part 1: Filmmakers advertise and promise the most scary movie ever, without even having any idea what kind of movie they're going to make. The film surprises everyone in just how huge it is. Actors and crew look back fondly, and without regret, on the phenomena and impact it had on their lives/careers.

Part 2: No one can figure out how/why there's another one and how/why Jason is in it. Special fx guru backs out. Another group of young victims. Dueling actors taking credit for work of grown Jason. Movie is a hit.

Part 3: 3D gimmick is introduced. The show is moved to a warmer climate. Inventive 3D kills. Jason gets his iconic hockey mask.

Part 4, The Final Chapter: A new slasher director is chosen. Salty old stuntman dawns the mask. Jason's father, Tom Savini, returns to kill his creation. Jason's 'zombie' tendencies are mentioned. No one in the production believes a runt, like Corey Feldman, can go toe to toe with Vorhees. Filmmakers try to tie the series together, while fans find plotholes in between the events of all these. It's decided characters are more important than kills. Everyone loves Crispin's eccentricities. Actors go through hell to get the stunts shot. Filmmakers are able to get most of the film past the censor board and to the audience where it once again is a hit.

Part 5, A New Beginning: New exploitation director. Method actor tries to decide whether Tommy is a monster or victim. Feldman is too busy to come back for more than just a cameo. Actors are initially kept in the dark about being in a Friday the 13th movie until Jason shows up on the set. New, secretive killer. High body count. Everyone agrees that this movie is sleazy. A real life playboy bunny who happens to be named vorhees joins cast. The director gets unprofessional and raunchy with his actors' scenes to the shock of other production crew. A lot of Rated X material gets cut from film. Continuity problems in the editing process isn't given a fuck about. Fans disappointed it is not actually Jason. It's compared to Halloween 3.

Part 6, Jason Lives: New director wants gothic horror like Frankenstein. Tommy no longer crazy, he becomes the series -Van Helsing- misunderstood hero. A lightning bolt resurrection makes Jason an unstoppable force. Tongue and cheek elements also infused. Feisty final girl chosen. Self aware humor laced throughout. The cast is chosen to be likeable. Jokes set up for audience participation. Lighter, more family atmosphere compared to part 5. Producer is criticized for being a cheapskate. Improvisation makes the film even better. A sense of mythology comes into play. Cliffhanger ending, about Jason's father, never used. Pop element added with Alice Cooper's song. Sadly, this Jason loses at the box office, but Jason Lives lives big at the videostore where fans ripped off by part 5 come back to series.

Friday, The Thirteenth, the series: Not completely related to films, a late night tv horror series is born. It had to be cheap and it had to be scary, the premise being cursed antiques. Some fans feel left out with the series not having Jason in physical form in it. Big name directors like Cronenberg take part. Syndication allows for creativity. The shows splatter and occult nature comes under fire when it moves to primetime.

Part 7, The New Blood: Jason gets a reluctant director and a powerful new foe. A character with a scarred Crystal Lake history is born to replace Tommy. A superb stuntman takes on the role of Jason and emotes like none before under the mask and makeup. A lot of gay actors are hired giving the chemistry an interesting challenge. Ratings board ruins as many kills as they can. The movie's real horror is the swamp setting filled with real gators. Stunts are favored over makeup fx. Non-horror-fan producer clashes with director. A lot of the annoying cunt producer's decisions override the director's great fx. Fans want a director's cut that they'll never get because paramount destroys outtakes. jason loses out to Freddy at the box office. The final girls all want to return to series.

Part 8, Takes Manhattan: It's decided that Jason needs to take on bigger fish. Budget restraints make the ambitious nature of the film shrivel to an extent. Jason's physical design is always changing. Fans challenge logic and continuity. How did Crystal Lake attach to the ocean? the new heroine is aquaphobic and menaced by her uncle as much as the boogeyman. Being not as gore ridden, this incarnation is referred to as the Disney Friday the 13th. Jason continues to defy logic because filmmakers just don't care. Established actor dislikes his demise. Film not really filmed in Manhattan for the most part, except for great Times Square shots. Toxic waste sewer silliness brings boy jason back. NYC officials do not love 'Jason loves NYC' slasher poster. The new setting and advertising campaign makes Jason more pop culture. But the series suffers decline in quality and box office returns. Longtime producer leaves series.

Part 9, Goes to Hell: Original creator returns and wants to make Freddy v. Jason. Freddy's home, New Line Cinema, takes over. Producers shake up things and lose hockey mask. the Jason zombie is killed to attempt to build a new mythology for the series. A young, enthusiastic crew ponder whether they got in over their heads. the series' cliches are skewered. An ensemble cast replaces the typical teenager victims. Jason gets a sibling like Laurie Strode. KNB creates gore filled naked special fx. Homoerotic shaving scene is added to counter sexist kills. Subversive and taboo is the director's goal. Filmmakers find a way to keep gore scenes from disappearing forever by submitting one version to theaters and rating board and an uncut home video version. Actress not happy with distasteful demon lizard rape scene added to film without her knowledge or approval. Demonic puppets scene, sadly, left out of film. Fan service, Freddy featured, shock ending added. A lot of fans disappointed in not having an 'all Jason- all the time' movie.

Jason X: A stalled 'slasher legends' showdown causes filmmakers to look for new ideas. What some might have seen as a silly sci fi premise, and a popsicle boogeyman, get shifted into the hands of an interesting creative team, including an offshoot of Cronenberg, and a Cronenberg cameo. Sex and slashing carries on into the stars. Digital fx sub for ambitious splatter and setting. Jason X has to keep up with the Screams and I Know What You Dids. Thanks to future tech, cyborg jason is born. Management issues with New Line, and a fading genre, allow Jason X to sit in limbo for years. When it is released, it's the poorest received of the series. The crew defends its legacy.

Freddy vs. Jason: A lot of potential freddy v. jason filmmakers were in love with their script ideas. people gave up other opportunities to be involved with the film. Jackie Chan replaces Kane Hodder, jk, about Jackie Chan, Hodder leaves. This Jason gets special treatment and his own stuntman. Jason becomes an introspective character. Original writers want to take zero credit for Jason's added fear of water. The logic of Crystal Lake being so near Freddy's hometown is questioned. Climax, unintentionally, becomes comedic. So many are letdown about the smackdown dominating the scares.

Remake: Michael Bay and friends begin the 2000s with cashing in on 70s and 80s slasher film After butchering Texas Chainsaw, the next target is Jason. A complete Pscyho remake style remake is tossed aside, thankfully for something else. Jason goes home to texas? backwoods. Filmmakers try to skirt this issue by saying there's Crystal Lakes all over the states. The new Jason is sort of a freak, himself, and a fan of the series. Jason goes back to running instead of magic walking. Stereotype campers return, unlikeable, for the most part. No interesting twists and a yawn ending. Hardcore fans try to kill the film, but it still does well among remakes. Jerk- cast and crew diss the fans for not liking their reimagining of the series.

Overview: everyone is proud to have been in the series.*

2 1/2 stars

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ABC & Disney Halloween (10-29-1989) --------------

*A security guard, at a Disney museum, channels Dana Carvey with his impressions, then talks to a pumpkin head version of himself in a magic crystal ball.

The magic ball shows him Donald's nephews going trick or treat.

Newscasters from the Bay Area thank citizens for positive response to 89 earthquake relief.

Movie legend Peter Graves shows us the new 'not your father's' Oldsmobile.

An 80s aerobics chick clad in spandex talks about her comfy clothes and shoes.

Disney's Splash Mountain might look fun, but the only way out is a long... way... down (weeeee).

A witchy casts a spell on Donald's duck feet to make him dance to her beat.

A ghostly, evil cat gets Pluto all riled up luring him into a trap/trial where his crimes against cats are brought out. The hissing cats animation/sound fx are great. the cats plan to roast poor pluto with flames that come alive. however, it's all a bad dream where pluto slept with his toosh to close to a fire. there's a sweet ending where pluto makes peace with a kitten.

If you're an 80s bizness professional, Lens Crafters can set you up with some giant grandma glasses.

Pumpkin head shows us the true icon of Halloween, a pumpkin, in Disney's Sleepy Hollow adaptation.

In colonial New England, the animals even loved to drink a good ale. Crane keeps a snack pie in his school book. The bully tries to pass off a big boned woman to puny Crane.

Safeway brings us a safe way to carve pumpkins for little ones.

Turbo Grafx 16 is turbo charged.

The stick figure Crane pigs out while Bones tries to exploit his fraidy cat nature with a good tale. We know the rest.

In a surreal, silly twist pumpkin head switches places with the security guard.

Try a little tenderness on tropical aisle with a cat eyed beauty and a bounty coconut chocolate bar.

Feed your baby 'pear flavored gerber and get prodigy for your pc and your baby.

The Real Ghostbusters 'Halloween Door' is up

after a teen girl sitcom called "Free Spirit" --Halloween special-- (which I skip thru but can appreciate for its cheesiness)

We now return to Ghostbusters. Slimer has decided to go as Peter for Halloween. Slimer ruins Peter's hot date.Citizens United Against Halloween and Lots of other Stuff We Don't Like (basically anything fun for kids) seeks the Ghostbusters help. The stuffy jerks use a big mad scientist deathray to almost ruin Halloween. Instead, it opens a door, in a red sky, for demons. We get a musical number, from beyond style. Luckily, one Drew Barrymore esque little girl is the key to saving the day with her dedication to trick or treating.

ABC ends their halloween special with a truly frightful creature feature... The Last Days of Richard Nixon...oooh.*

2 1/2 stars

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Swamp Thing: The Living Image *Dr. Arcane tortures Swamp Thing with the memory of his dead wife by using a plastic surgery floozy clone. This show reminds me of a very unselfaware version of Garth Marenghi's Darkplace.* 1 1/2 stars

Cowboy Bebop: Gateway Shuffle *Ma Barker's eco-terrorists. damsel in distress. monkey virus.* 3 stars

Downtown Julie Brown presents MTV's Rocky Horror Video Show (Richard O'Brien hosts) -----------------------

*musical numbers from the motion picture.

Herbie Hancock plays a casio keyboard with funky animation.

Martin Short is a fugitive.

Subscribe to Playboy magazine and have a closet full of great writing and women, also a sensual collection of centerfolds on vhs.

"Knock Knock, it's Randy." MTV Halloween, let him in, whoever he is. He sounds like Jack from The Shining.

Kurt Loder used to be a music journalist / walking dead zombie.

1 900 Hot Rock can win you your own PEPSI vending machine and a limo ride.

Don't be an 80s yuppie with dandruff, use Head & Shoulders and get laid.

Stop running in place, it messes up your feathered hairdo and you could be in art school at the art institute.

Time Life Video presents classic Universal horror movies like Frankenstein for the introductory price of 14.99, have your credit card ready.

I love those blue backgrounds with the huge yellow type, and I love the old creative MTV logo ads.*

3 stars

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Wonderful World of Disney's 'The Great Cat Family' *Walt, himself, tells us about one of his favorite species, focusing on the domestic cat. We drift back to Egyptian time wherethere were hieroglyphics and monuments to the animals that they were able to tame. Even 3 thousand years ago, people used silly 'here kitty' noises to gain the confidence of the feline. Cats, on the other hand, always toyed with man, and might have used man as much as man used him. Basically, Egyptians would have loved cat videos. Elaborate cat funerals were held where cats got bowls of milk for eternity. At the risk of death, cats were smuggled out of Egypt. Cats became common but retained their uncommon nature. Cats saved mankind from plague and famine. Even though this great service helped man, superstition led to cats being hunted as evil because of their nocturnal habits.* 2 1/2 stars

Garfield's Halloween (10-24-86) --------------------

*garfield is disturbed from a nap by binky the clown, warning garfield to get into shape in order to get halloween candy!

Scared Silly starring Ronald McDonald and the Chicken MCNuggets.McNuggets were invented by graverobbers, oddly enough.

Odie wears a pumpkin head and laps water.

Garfield does standup about Odie's ugliness and realizes he can exploit Odie for twice the candy.

Garfield points out how his owner, John, could be on the tv show 'Hoarders.'

Orange Beard the pirate steals some of John's pumpkin pie and introduces Odie, the stupid, his first mate. Garfield realizes he may be a little too timid to go trick or treating, even though he boasts to the opposite.

What do you put in your McDonald's Halloween McPumpkin? Collect all 3.

Simon's mysterious past is revealed in The Wizard.

Stop the Madness, don't use drugs says Jane Wymann.

Garfield and Odie float down a river to a spooky house on a small island. The home is inhabited by a disturbing looking old man who could easily fit in on Ren & Stimpy. He tells the two household pets a hundred year old story about pirates and buried treasure. Oh, crap, it's John Carpenter's 'The Fog.' Garfield is ready to leave the island but the old man steals the boat and the candy. The ghost pirates arrive at midnight, odie blows their cover, they try to swim for it, garfield almost drowns, odie saves him, the candy is found on the shore, garfield shares with odie. garfield skips the all night pirate movie marathon and sleeps instead.*

3 stars

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Paranormal State season 1 episode 2 *A single mother and her teenage son struggle, with angst and sorrow, living in a house where a 19th century family was brutally murdered. The lead investigator and his eccentric medium pass notes about a demonic name both have stuck on the tip of their tongue. famous Amityville demonologist called in. Nothing really out of the ordinary happens, aside from people knowing about the home's history, which anyone could look up and be bothered by, and the typical responses of the so called experts. Mostly it's tired college kids, in pajama pants, spending the night with a family who could use some real therapy and not any bumps in the night or spooky atmosphere to entertain the viewer.* 1 1/2 stars

Donald Pleasance hosts Saturday Night Live -- Halloween edition ----------

*Pleasance performs field surgery in a gruesome Monty Python esque sketch set in the days of the British empire.

Joggers, on a nice Autumn day in Central Park, step in some sticky goo in the Jogger Roach Motel.

Joe Piscapo in the Two Faces of Jerry Lewis with Eddie Murphy as Jerry's goofy side, and Piscapo as his aggressively angry side.

A Patsy Cline type whitetrash housewife sings a song about killing her husband as he sits at the table with a knife sticking out of his back.

Japanese honor suicide style pumpkin carving.

Eddie Murphy promises 16 different ways to kick someone in the groin as a Guardian Angel walking thru Harlem, at 3 in the morning, with 3 gold chains around yo neck (one way to stop it is to have trick shop snot hanging from your nostril).

Comedian and juggler Michael Davis on the dangers of Halloween... the razor blade in the apple is demonstrated in a way that more helps the prankster than the victim (ha), and he's forced to juggle the razorblade apples and eat them.

Bill Murray's brother tells us the SNl news stories: a Piscapo impersonation of Frank Sinatra being a mafia man for President Regan bombs really hard with the audience, burning flags for the energy crisis, the weather girl gets robbed and borrows a slutty outfit from her friend, Eddie Murphy is the nation of Islam grindhouse movie correspondent who critiques tha bruthas movie watching habits of enjoying rich white honkys get killed,

that's the news.

Three jazzy witches sing about MacBeth (Pleasance) at a smoky cauldron.

Musical guest: Fear 'Don't Care About You.'

Hitchcock parody 'The Clams' a Brian DePalma film, rated R for Rip OFF.

Theater patrons have a social breakdown in a bathroom over society's rudeness and misfortune.

Joe Piscapo and his wife drink cups full of sugar for breakfast and kids join them for even more sugary sweetness.

Andy Warhol's Tv: Andy calls his friends, like Calvin Klein, to ask them what they're wearing, before green screen losing his head.

Amateur super 8 or 16mm or videocasette home movies are made fun of by a SNL castlady.

Scare Me, on the Vic Salukin Show, as he offers a hundred bucks to be scared by any caller and gets a strange call from a stalker (Donald Pleasance).

Fear returns with a mosh pit and sing songs about how New York is alright if you like to get raped or murdered or if you like saxophones.

Tomorrow's great writers are coming from prisons in a documentary look featuring one Eddie Murphy and his poem titled 'Kill My Landlord.'*

2 stars (3 for Eddie)

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Walt Disney presents: Our Unsung Villains *Walt summons the slave in the magic mirror to the broadcast. The Big, Bad Wolf is shown in a different light as a family man just lookin' to bring home the bacon. Snow White's evil queen is seen as self-sacrificing. Yes'm villains is important, just let Uncle Remus show us a hongry fox and bear after a po' rabbit. They'z dumbasses. Finally, the man in the magic mirror points out poor Capn' Hook's disadvantages in facing off against the flying, fairy-having Peter Pan.* 2 stars

The Elvira Show (unreleased pilot) (1992) *Elvira gives inept psychic readings and love potions to suburban women. Elvira has a sarcastic talking cat. Elvira has a witchy aunt. They live in Manhattan, Kansas. A bohunk, in a candadian tuxedo, shows up seeking mystical aid. Elvira acts seductive for the studio audience to hoot for. She shows off her cleavage. Elvira meets her girl scout niece. Chip, the bohunk, turns out to be an undercover cop, in a sting operation, looking to bust the new witches, in town, for selling dangerous potions. Elvira uses a spell to make him stiff. Elvira's niece is a reluctant witch, too, I'd watch this show over Charmed anyday. I guess this was too raunchy for prudish sitcom tv.* 3 stars

The Walking Dead: Four Walls and a Roof *Sadistic and satisfying way to play with expectations of the viewer. Now, we can maybe move on to something different on the show and not spend half a season dealing with the same threats and pretty much predicting the framework. The teaser for the fate of a missing character also hints at hopefully better things to come.* 3 stars

South Park: Handicar *The throwback, tribute to 40s/70s cartoons, element is a nice distraction from the usual social b.s. message of the show.* 2 1/2 stars

Squidbillies: Bunker Down, You Hairy Dawg! *A depraved Jed Clampett punctures holes in the logic of doomsday preppers.* 3 stars

Mr. Pickles: Loose Tooth *The shifty animation style is welcomingly more disturbing than the painful attempts at shock-humor situations. On first viewing, it's just a nose ahead of the awful Brickleberry in humor quality.* 2 stars

Adult Swim, parody info-mercials ------------------------

*The Salad MiXXXer-- Sharp, but not as sharp as a Ginsu knife, shot at 50s suburbia and naive everyman sales pitch folks from that era. Just as raunchy as you'd expect from a joke about vibrators being used as "kitchen aides." 2 1/2 stars

Fartcopter-- Bratty, tween boys want farts or they'll get violent. It stops being a fake infomercial halfway thru and turns into a Jerry Springer dysfunctional family parody mixed with some message about army drones.* 2 stars

Alpha Chow-- Straightfaced, for the most part, and spot on in production, parody of supplement taking or lifestyle changing infomercials- where if you were flipping the channel, you might be tricked until you see the creepy midgets in werewolf makeup. Tries to be disturbing and succeeds.* 3 stars

Goth Fitness-- Again, this info-parody starts out mostly serious in tone, with making fun of two fads, but it might be a little dated with the Goth stuff and it turns into a bad SNL/MadTV/ComedyCentral sketch show skit by the end.* 2 stars

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Joe Bob's Hollywood Saturday Night with special guest star Tippi Hedren -- star of-- Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" (Great insight into the movie's production and you get to see Joe Bob's love of movies) *A free-spirit and a gamesman go toe to goe. Set against the backdrop of isolation, brooding parental displeasure, and a plague of terrible proportions.* 3 stars

Stephen King's 'Kingdom Hospital' *"You can let go, now, Elmer. It's over." The show's like Scrubs meets Twin Peaks.* 2 1/2 stars

"Let Sleeping Corpses Lie" (1974) *A new form of pest irradication is wreaking havoc on the nervous systems of newborns, the nutters, and the necro.* 3 stars

Friday the 13th, the series: "The Inheritance" *Two distant relatives inherit an occult antiques store and a little girl must be stopped from keeping the demonic doll she was allowed to be gifted from there. Along with an expert, of the occult, the cousins must retrieve all the lost and evil antiques.* 3 stars

American Horror Story--- Freakshow: "Massacres and Matinees *Gacy & Bundy team up. Dad and his dick-having girlfriend debut. "Dream a little dream."* 2 1/2 stars

The Simpsons, Treehouse of Horror (1990) -------------

*Bad Dream House: A haunted house rejects cohabitation haunting Homer and family.* 2 1/2 stars

*Hungry Are the Damned: 'To Serve Man' a Simpsons botched close encounter.* 3 stars

*The Raven: A Poe retelling has Homer seeing red and Bart eating crow.* 2 stars

------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Pickles: 'Dead Man's Curve' *Bloodthirsty dog afraid of the noise a vac makes. A long thought dead drag-racer, from the 50s, returns from the car graveyard to face culture shock in a sadistic modern town.* 2 stars

Regular Show, Halloween -----------------------------

(on the way to a costume party, scary tales are told)

*Payback: Modercai's uncle, who died in a horrible bowling alley accident, returns, from the grave, to give back the five bucks he was loaned.* 2 1/2 stars

*Party Bus: Dance til you drop dead.* 2 stars

*Wallpaper Man: Hiring a humanoid spider conman to get out of a chore has the boys, and Pops, cornered in a web.* 2 stars

--------------------------------------------

Melissa Joan Hart (Sabrina, The Teenage Witch) hosts Nickelodeon's presentation of 'Cry Baby Lane' 2000 *An inept mortician/taxidermist (awesomely portrayed by Frank Langella) shares a suburban legend with two boys and sets in motion the events that lead to half the town's residents becoming the wormy servants of a sawed-in-half Siamese stiff.* 3 stars

Ernest Scared Stupid *Letting the town children go off into the woods, alone, with Goober Pyle is a lot scarier thought than any Snot Troll.* 1 1/2 stars

Ghost Adventures: Island of the Dolls *In a part of Mexico where Aztec superstition causes a regretful drunk to honor a girl, who drowned, by littering an island, in a canal, with refuse dolls-- a grown man, in an undersized muscleshirt, gel in his hair, and expensive sunglasses on his face, runs around having a 'ghost adventure' with his brought along 'world's most haunted doll.'* 2 stars

Freddy's Nightmares: "Killer Instinct" -----------

*A leggy Lori Petty tries to get ahead, but loses her's instead.* 2 1/2 stars

*The ghost of Lori goes Freddy on her grieving boyfriend and her guilty bestfriend. There was a glaring difference between Lori and her zombie stand-in.* 2 stars

---------------------

Popcorn (1991) *A sloppy smooch to schlocky movies.* 3 stars

Swamp Thing: The Death of Dr. Arcane *Swamp Thing restores his deceased devil, and makes a deal with him, in order to save a kidnapped boy.* 2 1/2 stars

The Boogens (1981) *A couple of young professionals, their girlfriends, and a feisty dog- show up up in a snowy mountain town at the spark of the re-emergence of a species of POV tentacle monsters that last feasted on a group of miners- more than half a century before.* 3 stars

The Legend of Hell House (1973) *Richard Matheson brings his scientific-technical approach to spiritual horror.* 3 stars

Mickie Mouse, Halloween -----------

*Ghoul Friend: A goofy zombie helps Mickie out with car trouble on a desolate, spooky road.* 3 stars

*The Boiler Room: Minnie's apartment's furnace is in horrific pain.* 2 stars

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"One Dark Night" (1982) *A mousey Meg Tilly is hazed where a powerful, homicidal telepathic has just been entombed.* 3 stars

Town of the Living Dead: 'Don't Mess With the Money Make' *The brain-dead film crew have an unimpressive, bothersome meeting with the prudish city council lady, and a crucial cemetery gore shot is almost "ruined" by an actual funeral and an inept, intoxicated actor.* 2 stars

"WNUF tv28 Halloween Special" *Faithful recreation and satire of a 'Anywhere, USA' local television station, from the mid 1980s, news special and cheesy advertising.* 3 stars

"Pieces" (1982) -uncut- *Giallo puzzler. Gabby dubbing. Gag-fly gobs of gore.* 3 stars

Freddy's Nightmares: Freddy's Tricks and Treats ----------------

*An overworked medical student spends the night with an imaginary friend, a corpse, and Freddy as she relives the torture of a tyrannical, Puritanical grandma.* 3 stars

*The same girl, from the first story, is used as a guinea pig in a classmate's dream recording experiments.* 3 stars

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Paranormal State season one episode three *"Chilling" chaos in a cluttered mobile home.* 2 stars

Thundarr, the Barbarian: The Brotherhood of the Night *Werewolf bandits, around the jungles of Washington D.C., seek to add a lava-worm controlling wizard to the pack.* 2 1/2 stars

Z Nation: Welcome to Fu-Bar *Micchone still grieving over the death of Rick. Gun shows in Kansas after the apocalypse (I can see that happening). Citizen Z memorializes Z Nation's 'Rick' over the radio airwaves. TEN K gets a sweetheart. Doc is maybe more likeable than Dale or Herschel. Murphy freaks out and goes werewolfzombie on a guy, then denies it. Outhouse zombie running around with his pants around his ankles. Bartender zombie. Forecast for a Noah style 'flood-herd' of zombies heading over the plains states.* 2 1/2 stars

Rifftrax presents "Hawk, the Slayer" *Jack Palance pisses & cusses into the fires of Mordor, while a group of other generic sword and sorcery stereotypes run about with the Green Lantern's sword Excalibur or some crap.* 3 stars with riffing 2 stars without

Z Nation: Zunami *Zombie dust-storm / stampede that's miles wide (pretty scary). Three days without water, dying of thirst (nice showing of the survival element). Citizen Z gets a creepy 'crash visitation.' Murphy sinks to even more of a morbidly humorous low... He burglarizes a poor mom & daughter and then sacrifices them to their missing, and zombified, dad whose fate they were unaware of.* 3 stars

Jonny Quest: The Mystery of the Lizard Men *"Goonies at 2 o'clock!" For the most prized boy in the American superpower, he's sure allowed to be put in perilous predicaments. His bodyguard looks like a semi-retired golf pro.* 3 stars

"Bedlam" *Boris Karloff as a pathetic heel in a tale of snobbish beliefs, so-called savages & deeds of savagery, along with sterling acts of sympathy.* 3 stars

"Wicked Fascination" ---xxx--- *Spandex workout outfits that are thongs in the back. Aqua-net hairdos. Scuzzy guys with ponytails. White Rebok athletic shoes. Guys who have a similar style to Gerardo aka Rico Suave. Stonewashed, shredded with scissors and possibly jizz stained jeans. Purple zebra striped bikini. Indistinguishable shoulder-blade tattoo designs. Keyboard synth that sounds like you're playing Galaga (not as fun as it sounds, the synth, not Galaga. Galaga is actually fun.) Dangling peace symbol & star of David necklaces during scenes of slow pumping.* 2 stars

Wes Craven presents "Wishmaster" (1997) *Horror characters in minor roles and cameos. Freddy as an ancient arts collector, Jason as a security guard, Candyman as a doorman at a party. A couple too many cheap false scares substituting for genie scares. The special fx are fun though, and the genie's design and presence are memorable.* 2 1/2 stars

"The Hidden" (1987) *The universe's favorite FBI agent, a not Mr. Dale Cooper, is on the hunt for a bodyswapping slug/spider creature who loves Porches, firearms, and rock cassette tapes.* 3 stars

"Visiting Hours" starring Michael Ironside *A chauvinist sadist takes a break from writing angry letters to the national organization of women, and carving up hookers, to target a talky, lady tv journalist who editorialized one too many times about how abuse victims should be able to shoot their hubbies and get away with it.* 3 stars

American Horror Story: Murder House -- "Home Invasion" *Kurt Cobain & Corky Love get in the way of the Manson Family wannabes.* 3 stars

The Walking Dead: 'Slab-Town' *Goes from zombie-drama to a women-in-prison feature.* 3 stars

American Horror Story: Freakshow -- 'Edward Mordrake' *A Victorian era ghost freak is the catalyst to finding out the twisted backstories of most of the characters.* 3 stars

rifftrax presents: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban *"the horrible and the fanciful"* 3 plus stars with riffing 3 stars without

Gargoyles: Thrill of the Hunt *The littlest gargoyle, Lexington, becomes enamored with a celebrity canine-themed team of gladiators who turn out to not be as heroic as their tv show would have fans believe.* 3 stars

Bob and Margaret: Bob's Birthday *A forty year old dentist is having a midlife crisis, surrounded by eccentric patients, and his quirky wife who tediously plans a mishap filled surprise party for him. The pilot has the same gentle whimsy as Garfield or Charlie Brown, also animated full frontal penis.* 3 stars

Dr. Who (Fourth Doctor - Tom Baker) -- "Planet of Evil" *Interstellar BP scientists are going Mr. Hyde mad over dark energy.* 3 stars

Transformers: Divide and Conquer *As the world's war industries mobilize against the Decipticons, Otimus is gravely injured and a suicide mission to Cybertron is orchestrated in order to retrieve lifesaving repair parts. And we learn a lesson in what it means to be disabled and still able bodied.* 3 stars

Robert Rodriguez presents "Predators" *Alien versus Academy Award Winner. Adrien Brody and Topher Grace never really gel well with this genre.* 2 stars

Swamp Thing: Legend of the Swamp Maiden *Two juveniles camp out in the swamp on a night when a seductive (nekkid) siren (chick) goes swimming in the moonlight and has the allure / power to turn men into hideous humanoid frog creatures.* 2 1/2 stars

"Alone in the Dark" (1982) *Donald Pleasance runs a really relaxed mental hospital where a prisoner-of-war crazy Jack Palance, a fire-and-brimstone pyromaniac Martin Landau, a hulking-retard rapist of kids, and a nosebleeder killer escape during the chaos of a citywide blackout and target the family of their new doctor. Everyone in this movie has some sort of delusion.* 3 stars

--- Paranormal State: Season 1 Ep 4 -- Investigation of the Dark Man

*A mother, mourning the recent overdose death of her son, spends the weekend with our research team and she, and her family, share the stories of their lost loved one's struggle with a haunting dating back to a backyard pond drowning of a man years ago when the lost loved one was a boy.

Our lead investigator proclaims 3am an evil time because it's the exact opposite hour from Christ's death....

Okay... well, what was it before? Just 3am, right? okay...

then a medium calls up on the telephone to tell the mother that her son is telling the medium that the ghost killed him. that's low.

even for a medium, that's fucking low.

followed by a 'third generation pagan' being rowed out, in a boat, on the pond by a devout catholic (go figure) to perform a silly banishing ritual.

third generation, huh? seems like it would be more than that, given how old paganism is.

so, basically your grandma was a pretentious new age pagan, too?

ha. anyway, i guess everything turns out okay because the medium calls back and tells the mom the son has passed on and is happy with grandma in heaven and the college or the folks at a & e do the right thing and get the mom some grief counseling.*

either zero stars (for exploitation)

or 1 1/2 stars (for not bringing enough entertaining scares)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

--- Friday the 13th, the series: "The Poison Pen" *The almost kissing cousins go undercover as monks to stop a powermad Padre's predictions.* 3 stars

Cowboy Bebop: Ballad of Fallen Angels *Spike has a bittersweet mafia homecoming complete with gothic church shootout showdown with a Lucifer Morningstar-esque enemy and his gunmen.* 3 stars

World War Z *In an oversaturated genre, it's silly to get stuffy about just another entry into zombie mania. This one feels like a less moody, but just as intense, cousin to the 28 Days series.* 2 1/2 stars

Texas Chainsaw 3D *Leatherface, the avenger. Half the movie, and new story elements opportunity, wasted on going through the motions with a typical sexy young people in peril slasher formula.* 1 1/2 stars

Tim & Eric, Bedtime Stories: Haunted House *Zalifianakis joins the guys for a trio of Stooges style unfunny non-humor spookiness.* 1 1/2 stars (3 stars for the "post-show" parody of Chris Hardwick's Talking Dead)

Headbangers Halloween ---------------------

(guests: Alice Cooper, Iggy Pop, Dave Mustaine, Dangerous Toys)

*Black Sabbath - Headless Cross.

Queensryche - Gonna Get Close To You.

Quantum Perm - Because Boys Love Curls.

Call 1 900 New Kids on the Block.

Kiss A Little Longer, Hold Tight A Little Longer, Stay Close A Little Longer with Big Red chewing gum.

You got the fever for corn flavor Pringles Corn Crisps.

Megadeth - No More Mr. Nice Guy.

Europe - Superstitious.

Share a little piece of America, Wrigley's Gum.

For a free Soloflex brochure, call anytime.

Time Life Music presents - Heart Rock.

Quiet Riot - MetalHealth.

King Diamond - Sleepless Nights.

Judas Priest - You Got Another Thing Coming.

Full Tilt Taste, Coors Extra Gold.

Dokken - Dream Warriors.

Motley Crue - Looks That Kill.

When a woman sweats - Secret Sporty Clean.

Women's Secret Confessions.

Overkill - Hello from the Gutter.

Dangerous Toys - Scared.

Annihilator - Allison Hell.

Kiss the Sky with Ocean Pacific.

Lyle Wagoner for the New Generation hair growth system.

Alice Cooper - Poison.

Alice Cooper - Teenage Frankenstein.

Danzig - Mother.

Kiss - I Love It Loud.

Iron Maiden - Can I Play with Madness.

Zed Yago - Black Bone Song.

Ozzy Osbourne - So Tired.

Ozzy Osbourne - Bark at the Moon.

Robert Englund was Freddy but now he is The Phantom of the Opera.

Helloween - Halloween.*

3 stars

--------------------------------

Elvira's Movie Macabre --Halloween special-- "Scared to Death" *Sexual innuendo featuring Elvira* 2 1/2 stars *Shocking suspense innuendo featuring Bela Lugosi.* 2 stars

#scarecrows 1988 #fright night part 2 #freddy's nightmares #z nation #hack-o-lantern #paranormal state #crystal lake memories #disney halloween #garfield halloween #walt disney presents #joe bob briggs #kingdom hospital #treehouse of horror #ghost adventures #town of the living dead #elvira

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