1. 17-19: Calgary Comic Con! Cuz Dragon*Con wasn’t enough. Or, rather, I’m going with a different group of friends.
2. 26: Leverage season 4!
3. 13&20: Last two Sanctuary episodes of the season. And it looks like the period of crappiness is well behind us so omg omg omg.
4. 22: The day Virgin (allegedly) switches to SaskTel’s new lines and thus gets the SIM phones. I plan on upgrading from this piece of crap (except I totally have the green version and I didn’t buy it refurbished) to this slightly less crappy piece of crap. I still can’t afford an iPhone.
5. 24: Payday! As is today, but I think the money is already in my chequing account so I’m no longer looking forward to it.
6. 29: I suppose I should put my birthday on the list.

Cut for spoilers. Not that the cuts work in the RSS feed, so, uhhh, suckers?

Not a lot to say other than omfg amaaaazing. The Five reuniting! TPTB confirming that Helen and James were totally involved! James, John and Helen all aware that John’s really the person that Helen loves mostest! More blatant John/James subtext that even I notice! Nigel being casually naked in front of Helen and James!

Yeah.

I’m so in the The Five were all screwing each other camp.

And I totally swore at John for being in that Nazi uniform. And having hair. Mostly the hair, cuz, really, John a Nazi? He’s a depraved sociopath, yes, but racial purification isn’t really his thing. He’s more about the indiscriminate murdering.

Also, is it just me, or did Tesla have less control over his vampyness than usual? I don’t really pay attention to Tesla (usually cuz Helen’s on the screen at the same time and c’mooon, Helen vs Tesla? No contest) so idk. Maybe I’m just used to him being devamped.

Speaking of Helen… mmmm French speaking wide eyed flirty Helen. Oh Helen, I love you as much as a person can love a fictional character and not be a crazy astral wife.

And now for the whiny part: wtf why was Will’s grandfather in it? What was the point of that other than making Helen look like a super creepy stalker? Also, no Kate. ): I mean, that’s no surprise, but I still miss her.

And that is all.

Cut for spoilers, obviously.

omg, Abby has to be the dumbest character on Sanctuary ever. Even dumber than Will’s last girlfriend, the invisible girl. srsly Will, you have a terrible taste in women. I mean, really, who the fuck actually escapes from a hostage situation… and then runs right back into it? Especially when you’re the leverage! And, dammit, I woulda downright applauded Abby and thought she was pretty awesome if she had just thought to phone the fucking Sanctuary before rehostaging herself. Even if you don’t know the number off the top of your head, you just ran around to all these suppliers asking for the Sanctuary rate – clearly the Sanctuary are regular customers and, well, a store is a store – they always have a way to contact their favoured buyers. So, yeah, if she had phoned, filled in Kate on wtf was going down and then went back to Will so that they don’t kill him, I woulda been fuck yeah, Abby is awesome. Go Abby.

But, no, she just basically did nothing. Worse than nothing – she got a guy pissed at them for no reason.

Just cuz it’s worth mentioning, I don’t like the invisible girl cuz she was all ooooh nooo having powers sucks boo hoo hoo and I was like I will cut you bitch – you turn invisible. You look 100% human. There is nothing about you that spells out I AM AN ABNORMAL on your forehead. No. You’re just a human with fucking superpowers.

And you bitch about ‘em.

And I hate characters who bitch about superpowers when they’re not a curse. Helen? Helen can bitch about being quasi-immortal. It would really suck at times. (Though, as an aside, I think Helen’s longevity isn’t just a physical thing – I think it affected her mind as well. She and Tesla, both biologically immortal(ish) adapted to the changing times with great ease. James with his mechanical slowed aging, however, did not. And John’s too crazy to know if he fits into the 21st century.) John certainly can bitch about teleporting – it turned him into Jack the Ripper. Hell, even Tesla could bitch about being a vampire, but Tesla thought that being a monster was cool. And I like that about him.

But the girl who can choose whether or not to be invisible? No. You can not complain. You could complain if you were like the proper H. G. Wells character (um, for those who haven’t read The Invisible Man, Griffin can’t make himself visible again and turns crazy), but you are not.

Okay, I’m done being bitchy now. Though, if you have a reason for why I shouldn’t hate on Abby, please tell me. I don’t like hating characters.

Yes, I fixed the title but couldn’t be bothered to fix the actual map. One is easier to do than the other?

My biggest headcanon is easily that Sam and Jack totally got married in Vegas between seasons eight and nine of SG-1 when Sam was working at Area 51. Also, Janet got better after the time screwiness of Continuum – whose to say that the timeline is exactly the same?

For Warehouse 13, the Regents shipped HG Wells off to the Sanctuary at the end of season two cuz Helen and Tesla threw fits about being left in the dark about her debronzing. Will’s psychiatrist powers and Helen’s blood (if it does suppress John’s crazy – idk, the show retcons itself and I get the webisodes mixed up with the series proper all the time) made HG better. Myka, of course, was recruited by Helen and now she and HG hunt monsters instead of artefacts and have lots of sex.

Speaking of Sanctuary, The Five? Totally engaged in group sex. Multiple times. Also, Helen has slept with most important historical figures.

Rose and human!Ten had a rough start of their relationship until they grew a TARDIS and went on adventures in Pete’s World Universe.

Also, Christina de Souza and Sophie Devereaux are distantly related and Christina kinda idolises Sophie.

Seven dumped Chakotay shortly after arriving on Earth and she ends up hanging out with Janeway a lot. Depending on my mood, sex occurs.

Xena didn’t stay dead. Her and Gabrielle had lots of sex. (Okay, so my slash goggles are on tight enough to believe that the second sentence is canon for reals.)

Kim and Shego? They met up a few years after the series ended and hit it off. Kim and Ron’s breakup was mutual and took place shortly after graduating high school and going to separate colleges – turns out that long distance relationships were one of the few things not possible for a Possible.

Speaking of cartoons and college, Daria and Jane realised that their friendship ran a little deeper than either quite expected. College experimentation was enlightening and Jane revised her belief that she wasn’t bi.

Huh. I didn’t realise just how many of my headcanons involved femslash. It really shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, though.

“I wonder,” John mused as The Five formed a lopsided star in the snow and lay back to observe the cloudless heavens.  They had determined that, after missing the lunar eclipse in April, they would get prime seats for the one on the fourth of October.

It was a decision that had been in no small part influenced by Doctor Edward Moreau, the man declaring himself Helen’s rival, who had spent much of the spring months regaling anyone who would listen, and even those who would not, about how absolutely marvellous the April eclipse was.  For her part, Helen was quick to deride the barbaric doctor; despite her own experiments, which often pressed the boundaries of ethical science, she abhorred her colleague’s techniques.  Vivisection on abnormals, Helen had heatedly argued on many occasions, was an unnecessarily cruel procedure.

Disdain for his research practices notwithstanding, Helen had been galled by the man’s boasting and so she had turned to John with the devil in her eyes and requested that they get the best possible view of the latest lunar eclipse.  John was happy to oblige and, after a bit of scouting, deposited the group in the middle of a field somewhere in the United Kingdom with a perfect view of a clear, starry sky.

At least Helen assumed that it was the UK – there were no signs of civilisation, and thus no light pollution, or noticeable landmarks in sight.  She suspected that James had deduced where they were, but she didn’t mind being left in the dark.  Her trust in John was absolute.

Vindictively, she hoped for a thick cloud cover over London.  Doctor Moreau would just have to content himself with a lovely view of the clock tower housing Big Ben.

“I wonder if I could make it to the moon,” John finished his sentence after a long, contemplative pause.

“John!” Helen’s voice had an edge of shock, but her wide blue eyes glinted with curiosity as they met his across the snow.

“I have teleported clear across the world with no ill effects,” John shrugged, the devil-may-care grin on his face giving rise to a flutter in Helen’s stomach.

“The distance to the moon is thirty times greater than that of the diameter of the Earth, John,” James pointed out mildly from the other side of Helen.

“Not to mention that the air gets awful thin when one leaves the planet’s surface.  I doubt that one can breathe in naught but aether.”  Nigel added, watching his own breath condense in the crisp air.

“Oh, I could remedy that,” Nikola drawled.  “I could build one of those suits used to explore the ocean floor.  But better, of course.  Much better.”

“Of course,” John drawled right back, his tone faintly mocking.  “And if I cannot make it in one jump, I could just take the journey in a series of smaller hops.”

The conversation lulled as the five friends contemplated the idea.  Helen, as per usual, was the first to give voice to their hesitant thoughts.

“We could be the first people to set foot on the moon.” She was almost breathless with wonder and her lips turned up in a determined smirk as she refocused her gaze on the faint sliver of a moon above her.  The four men exchanged long glances, complete with matching grins, before turning back to the moon as well.

To an outside observer, the five friends painted a picture of serenity as they watched the last crescent sliver wink out and the moon flare to life again; its new colouring reflected back onto the snow and painted it copper.  But The Five knew that that their shared thoughts were far from serene – rarely did they have an idea that they were content to let remain as an intellectual curiosity and they knew that, one day, their lunar observations will be not be bounded by the atmosphere.

So, yeah, I have until July 1st to bingo this scorecard.  And any others that I may request.

Thomas Edison?

He’s going to be so much fucking fun. Tesla vs Edison!!!

And, for myself, this is the list of easy ones: Disney, ozone beatle, the main lab, gen, Edison, Ford, 1990′s, Bigfoot (abnormal), lizard creatures, WWI, The Cabal, Helen’s room, For King and Country, Will’s office, fluff and shape shifters.

And, awww, Twain and Steinbeck?  I’m so not a fan of Twain and, for Steinbeck, I’ve only read Of Mice and Men.  Gunna have to use the modern cast for those prompts.

James, long used to their squabbling, simply blocked it out.  In two decades he had not heard a new argument from either party and, after unsuccessfully attempting to join in the first time he caught them bickering, he just sighed and carried on.  Clearly it was just one of their things and the detective was not one to begrudge Barney for staking that claim on Helen; he and her had an intimidating amount of shared history and quirks as it was.  From day one, it had been difficult, if not impossible, for outsiders to squirm their way into The Five’s circle and James was impressed at how deeply Barney had integrated himself into their lives.  Especially since it started with something as mundane, and loathed, as coffee.

So the time James and Barney caught Helen in the kitchen with a coffee mug at her lips came as a great surprise to all parties.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Helen exclaimed, heavily shadowed blue eyes wide over the steaming mug of coffee.  James just tiredly leaned back against the doorframe with an amused smile stretching his face as Barney stepped into Helen’s personal space.  This, James mused, was going to make for a great show.

“Really?” Barney said gleefully as he nudged his boss with his shoulder.  “To me, it looks like you’re drinking coffee.”

“I’ve had one sip!  One!” Helen could feel a blush forming and ruthlessly tamped down on her embarrassment.

“And how many cups?” Barney crowed.  “Are you the reason why my pot is depleting faster than usual?”

“Hardly!” Helen scoffed.  “This is my first cup of coffee.  Ever.  Which I only poured because I’ve completely ran out of tea and I am in desperate need of caffeine.”

Barney looked at her suspiciously and then nodded in acceptance of Helen’s claim.  “So, what do you think?”  His shit-eating grin got wider.  Helen just looked at him flatly.

“It tastes like swill,” she said succinctly.  “Burnt swill, in fact.”  Barney looked horrified until he turned to the twin coffee makers and his expression relaxed as he took in two pots, one full and one empty.

“Of course it tastes burnt,” Barney said. “You took last cup of coffee out of an hours old pot.  Here, let me fix you a new cup – it’ll be marvellous and you will love it!”

James winced as Helen’s jaw clenched and her eyes hardened minutely.  Never a good sign.  He was amused to notice that Barney hadn’t picked up on that particular tell.  Either that or was blissfully unaware of Helen’s state of mind in his over-caffeinated exhaustion.

Barney chatted enthusiastically as he poured a new cup of coffee from his second coffee machine, oblivious to Helen deliberately pouring the burned coffee down the sink with narrowed eyes.  He didn’t look up until Helen slapped the ceramic mug down in front of him.

“That,” she said, “will not be necessary.  I am going back to work.”  She swept an imperious gaze over the two men.  “And we shall never speak of this again.”

With that, Helen stalked out of the room, her back ramrod straight and her head high.  Barney looked at James and slumped sheepishly with his eyes pleading mercy.  James laughed.

“I see some things never change,” James said between chuckles.  “Helen would always get a bit moody in Oxford when things didn’t go quite her way, especially when she began forsaking sleep for science.”

Barney laughed.  “I bet she never went as far as to drink coffee back then.”

“Well, no.” James admitted as he swung an arm around Barney’s neck and led him out of the kitchen.  “But there was that time where I convinced her to try cocaine.  Now that, my friend, is quite the tale.  I’ll tell it to you sometime, perhaps after we catch Helen’s latest prize.  For now, we’ve got work to do.”

Now, well over a decade later, they were still a source of fascination and had even inspired the respect and awe they had so coveted in the past.  They basked in it, pleased beyond measure that they were the centre of attention, even if it was only supposition on how they had managed to not age a day since they last set foot in Oxford.

To the other attendees, the surprise of the night was that Montague John Druitt was alive.  They had all read that he had been found drowned in the Thames and some had even attended his funeral.  To his friends, the fact that he had survived Helen’s bullet didn’t come with that much of a shock – while there was a copious amount of blood on the scene, James had determined that none of the blood splatter possessed the right trajectory to have come from John.  Helen, being a physician, had privately double checked James’ conclusions by analysing the blood for the manufactured genetic abnormality that The Five shared.  It had come up clean – there were no traces of John’s blood mixed in with Molly’s.

If anything, Helen was mostly surprised by the long scar on John’s right cheek.  The scar and the way her heart soared and shoulders lifted, unburdened from a previously unnoticed weight, were her greatest surprises when John had walked into that room.

Helen had cursed her heart fervently.  How dare it, that traitorous muscle, keen so strongly for a murderer?  And not just any murderer, but the elusive Jack the Ripper, the man who once topped Scotland Yard’s most wanted list?  How could she love a monster?  And, dear God, did she ever love him.  Though tainted now, the fire that had consumed them both during their days in Oxford and their passion-filled engagement still burned and she knew that both John and James saw it in her eyes.

When John stepped into the corner claimed by his small circle of friends, James yielded his position nearest to Helen, as he always had, to John without a comment and barely a sideways glance.  For his part, John had taken James’ place without a missing a beat and had preened in his position of honour.  Nikola, damn that Serb, simply smirked behind his glass of wine and Helen couldn’t help but suspect that the absent Nigel was lurking about, naked and invisible, and laughing at his friends.  He had always preferred to observe the group before making his presence felt, and his invisibility only made him more prone to lurk in the shadows.

It was no matter that her heart still beat for John; Helen had finally consoled herself late that evening, cold and alone in her overly large bed. It just meant that the organ was not a fickle one and the passage of time was not yet great enough for it to move on.  It was the next day that she began her hunt – she had tasked herself to find the bastard and then… well… Helen tried not to think about that part.

She never did have to find out what to do with her ex-fiancé – whenever she wasn’t sabotaging her own hunt, James was.  He had barely pulled her out of a deep depression when John had come strolling into that reunion and he had neither the desire to give Helen up to the other man nor to watch her suffer in silence again.

Years had passed, nearly a decade, before the next time they truly saw each other, again in a lavishly decorated room, much smaller this time, with the other three members of their circle.  The Five had been given a task by His Majesty, King Edward the VII, himself. Hunt down their erstwhile classmate Adam Worth and deal with him however they deemed necessary.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Helen had found herself expending considerable energy on just paying attention to the Prime Minister’s words. At every glance and sly touch from John, her chest constricted distractingly and she found herself at her sanity’s end.

James, the traitor, had made himself scarce whenever John was around. He had flashed that infuriating smirk at her when she had demanded an explanation for his abandonment – was he not her paramour now, not John?  His answer, so entirely James, that he was fine with John’s position as first in her heart since he was the one she turned to now, did little to assuage her annoyance and guilt.

His later, drowsy statement, after Adam had died (from her bullet, regardless of that fall, oh God, she had truly killed a man in cold blood this time. She was a killer – a murderer – now.  No different from John) and John had disappeared, was that it was fine to still love John, despite his misdeeds, because she was Helen.  Loyal, unwavering Helen and, with her expected lifespan, it had been but a blink of an eye since they were engaged.  James’ kind words were enough to sooth her worries for the night and Helen had rolled over and laid her head on his chest with a sigh.  James, surprised at Helen’s uncharacteristic desire to be held, traced absent patterns along her sweat dampened spine.

For eighty years after that, Helen didn’t speak with John.  She knew that he and James would share an occasional drink every few decades and that, on the times their paths crossed, he and Tesla would exchange blows.  And she saw him, on occasion – just glimpses in the night that sent her blood rushing through her body.  But never once did John ever stay long enough in Helen’s vicinity to exchange words.  His presence was always noted, though – Helen grew to be quite observant.

She wrote off the increased tempo of her pulse at those times as simple shock –nothing more.

When she saw him for the first time with Ashley – her daughter, his daughter, their child – my God, they shared a child and she had never told him, Helen was struck by how much she still loved him. Eighty years without speaking and a part of her still yearned for him.  Eighty years and now that bastard was holding her daughter – their daughter – hostage and the part of her that wasn’t clamouring in fear for her daughter was aching to step forward into his arms.

It was so wrong.  And Helen desperately – so very desperately and so very futilely – didn’t want to be in love with him any longer.

But Helen suspected that, even with another hundred and fifty-seven years and thousands of atrocities committed by the both of them, she would still love him. She, with all of her education, knowledge and supposed wisdom garnered for a long (oh so very long) life, would continue to be in love with the man known Jack the Ripper.