#Also the Director has a Carolina accent!

[rubykgrant]

I finally finished designing my other RVB OC, so I decided to put her in a line-up with the other ladies! I'll eventually make a full outfit set for her like I did the rest, bit for now, I like how these 5 look together~

Tex, Carolina, and Kai are the actually existing characters we all know, and my OCs are Poppy (who I've shared before), and Junonia (new!).

I had several ideas for character pop into my head as I watched the series, and over time, I worked on sort of combining certain designs together, and eventually Poppy and Junonia became more solid as themselves.

Info about the characters below~

My Tex design is from my story-line in which she and Church get to come back, this time in synthetic human bodies. DNA from the Director and Allison were used to create them, but they aren't literal clones or perfect copies; Tex is considerably taller than Allison, with broader shoulders and a stronger chin (ironically, she resembles Carolina more than her mother did). She's pretty thick and buff, naturally~

We know what Carolina looks like without her helmet, but I like to imagine she decided to try short hair, and decided she liked it. She's pretty muscular herself, but more lean and athletic than Tex. She still likes to add some dark make-up around her eyes, just for the aesthetic... I also decided that she just doesn't care about shaving, so you can see the hair on her legs/under her arms

Junonia is tall, but not as much as Tex. She's also chubby, but not as curvy as Kai. She also uses a mobility aid, a cane and some knee braces that help with ease stress. She has a cane with her armor as well, but it's more high-tech, and doubles as a weapon, while the suit itself helps compensate stress on her knees (the idea of having a character who needs mobility aids, specifically canes, actually came from seeing a different character from another series; the character used them in a civilian form, but when fighting bad guys, they just magically could walk fine... I thought, hey, if sci-fi magic is involved, shy not just give them a SUPER COOL cane, that can adapt to their needs in battle and what-not! so, I transferred this thought process to Junonia. the high-tech on can automatically fold-up into a gauntlet when she's sitting, and has several other adjustments, making it like multi-tool). Her armor would be black/gray with pink accents.

She has two prominent tattoos; around her neck/collarbone is a design of a gold chain, pearls, and a seashell. On her arm is a design of a seahorse, with the tail wrapped around her wrist (the way they sometimes hold on to rocks with their tails~). She has most of her hair pulled back, in box braids (they are short on one side, getting longer as it goes to the other side, in sort of an asymmetrical line).

Part of her story involved getting tricked into working for an organization that claimed to help people without being "restricted" by unhelpful government rules... which is a cool idea in theory, but unfortunately, the people in charge of this group were insidious a-holes. Junonia was in charge of gathering intel, a medic for her team, and occasionally helping with defensive fighting (not that she isn't perfectly capable in any forms of battle, but she's a bit like Doc, not entirely a pacifist, but reserves violence as a last resort, or to defend herself/others). When the organization began to fall apart, including the people running the show trying to take out the underlings to erase evidence, Junonia got out of there quick and hid under the radar for a while... more recently, she's been involved with helping people find resources for recovery, and she's also gotten back into her habit of collecting information (like what happened to other people in her group, and where the ones responsible for the problems are hiding).

Junonia is generally a calm and graceful person, but she's also VERY clever, and can have an icy form of anger when dealing with somebody unpleasant. She's very compassionate, but doesn't compromise in specific situations. She grew up being fascinated by sea creatures, but never got to visit the ocean until she was an adult. When she was hiding, she finally was able to find a place to stay by the water, and worked on putting all her knowledge of marine life into practice. Within the group, she's something like a "reverse" of Carolina, without being an adversary/antagonist. She has the same level of tenacity as well, but more tempered (if Carolina is a bit hot-headed, Junonia is more cool). It's a bit ironic, because she knows about all the others, and at first some of them wonder if this will somehow be "uneven", but Junonia is sharing facts about herself, and it's very easy to enjoy/accept her companionship. She really likes horror and action/adventure movies. She's in her late 30s, and is a trans lesbian.

My design for Kai is from little bits of info we get about her, plus some imagination; she and her bro are both Hawaiian, and both chubby (he's a bit thicker with muscle, but Kai ain't no push-over... she can hold her own in a fight, and ticking her off is a BIG mistake. hell hath no fury like Kaikaina Grif). She's short, and has long hair, with thick and wavy curls. She's dyed it multiple colors over the years, usually not even knowing what was what. She took a break for a while, and recently Donut and Carolina have helped her add a golden gradient. Kai has a very big personality; she ain't shy about being fun and flirty~

Poppy is short, though not as much as Kai, with a fairly thick and solid build. Poppy didn't actually "join" the army. She was "selected" to be part of a "special training program", which turned out to be tricking poor and homeless people into working at dangerous outposts. When one area was getting attacked, a lot of the people running the show took escape ships for themselves. Poppy was able to find a set of armor, and now looking "official", she helped guide all the people who would have been abandoned to safety. When she got them all to a rescue ship, a soldier asked if she had been in charge of that outpost. She basically pretended that yes, she TOTALLY was the boss. Yep. Hired herself, and gave herself a promotion. Before she could back out or escape, she was thrown into a new "assignment". Whoops!

She was then sent to a different group of Red and Blue Flag Zealots, meant to identify needed supplies and order more ammunition. She was designated "neutral", and had white armor with tan accents. When the teams ran out of bullets, they kept fighting in non-lethal ways, which Poppy thought was preferable to a clearly pointless war, so she just never put in the order for more. Both teams considered her a friend, playfully fighting over who's side she was on. After a dangerous incident left her knocked-out and recovering, Temple's group arrived to recruit more Sim Troopers. Poppy's group refused to join. When she woke up, they were all gone, and she had to work on making cybernetics for herself. Because she's still considered part of the Flag Zealots, the UNSC decided to throw her back into a new training program (which was actually pretty shady and insidious), and that's where she meets Sarge.

Poppy is meant to sort of mirror Simmons. The fact that Sarge likes her, and she's a nerd, SHOULD make Simmons hate her guts... but after one conversation, he internally just clicked with her- "Oh, sibling? Sibling!". Also, she and Simmons are trans in opposite directions (Poppy never cared much about having surgery, but she always wanted really long hair). Poppy’s got a bit of a “cheerfully dismissive” attitude when she’s not in a mood to deal with somebody. She also likes making people laugh, and when she’s really close to them, she tries to be a source of comfort. She’s got a temper brewing under there, though (she can shout and rant with the best of them, but you really need to worry if she’s coming after you quietly). For the most part, Poppy is easy-going (because she’s been through a LOT, and knows what she’s capable of), and pretty quick with sarcastic little comments. She also feels her painful emotions VERY deeply, and freely cries when upset. One of her skills is messing with audio communication, and her favorite trick is to play annoying songs as a distraction. With white armor, the prophecy of Red Team being the lesbian flag has been fulfilled!

[bluesregards]

So I have some thoughts about RvB

A few weeks ago I started watching Red vs Blue for the first time with some friends. I have/had been in the RT community since like 2010 or 2011? And just never watched more than some best of clips from youtube while in high school. I did know some spoilers from years of knowing people who are REALLY into the series. And here are my thoughts on some of the seasons.

Season 1: I would be blue team if Church would shut the fuck up. Donuts voice is so nice and Simmons is great! Sarge feels like every liberal old man I have known that doesnt know hes liberal. Tex just feels under and over sold at the same time? This was def made in 2003

Season 2: God damn it Church I thought you were gonna be gone for good. Damn it. Well at least you gave me Doc. Now him I love. I like his accent. O’Malley seems like an interesting concept but idk. tucker be less weird and I’d like you more.

Season 3: How much fucking weed did Burnie burns smoke to make this season what the hell. Why the hell is he english?? Andy is really edgy humor in the way a shit is.

Season 4: So Mpreg certainly wasn’t on my list of things I thought I’d see today.

Season 5:  Sister might be one of my fav people. I love confident people who are just so casual about their sex live. Blarg chicka honk honk might be the funniest thing they have ever written. Vic and Vic jr shut up

Season 6: GOD DAMN IT I HATE THE DIRECTORS ACCENT SO MUCH. Did that slut Agent Washington just hold a grudge so hard that he had to mangle souths corpse like that? you petty bitch I love it. Also I would kill a man for Delta

Season 7: Washington I like you but if Donut is really gone I’ll have to break your legs. Basketball Church might be the only Church I like.

Season 8: Church is out here just trying to download a gf huh. I will pay someone to stab the director. The Meta seems cool but I can’t place why I’m not 100% invested in him??

Season 9:  AGENT CAROLINA WILL YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TRY AND BREAK ME IN HALF. IM LITERALLY BEGGING. Caboose being a god for a second and that Platypus joke are my favorite things I’ve seen.

Season 10: Oh the Director is like the worst kind of wife guy ever huh. Carolina has mommy and daddy issues no wonder I’m attracted to her like a gnat. Wash feels more like comedic relief but its the past and hes younger so I’ll allow it. Hey Carolina yank me like you yanked Wash thou. The really oversold Frodo in the marketing material huh

Season 11: Oh god they gave Caboose depression and trauma now im sad. Wash and Tucker talking is great actually. Felix has little hips and it’s a touch hard to take him serious because I can see Miles shit eating grin(affectionate). Locus feels like if Maine could speak and didn’t have a batshit AI

Season 12: Im halfway through it. Will update.  Carolina putting people into pegging position immediately is my jam thou. I do like them actually making the reds and blues actually seem to grow up a little bit.

[wakandaiscoming]

Ryan Coogler’s statement on Chadwick Boseman’s death has gutted me again. “He’s an ancestor now.”

Before sharing my thoughts on the passing of the great Chadwick Boseman, I first offer my condolences to his family who meant so very much to him. To his wife, Simone, especially.

I inherited Marvel and the Russo Brothers’ casting choice of T’Challa. It is something that I will forever be grateful for. The first time I saw Chad’s performance as T’Challa, it was in an unfinished cut of “Captain America: Civil War.” I was deciding whether or not directing “Black Panther” was the right choice for me. I’ll never forget, sitting in an editorial suite on the Disney Lot and watching his scenes. His first with Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow, then, with the South African cinema titan, John Kani as T’Challa’s father, King T’Chaka. It was at that moment I knew I wanted to make this movie. After Scarlett’s character leaves them, Chad and John began conversing in a language I had never heard before. It sounded familiar, full of the same clicks and smacks that young black children would make in the States. The same clicks that we would often be chided for being disrespectful or improper. But, it had a musicality to it that felt ancient, powerful, and African.

I learned later that there was much conversation over how T’Challa would sound in the film. The decision to have Xhosa be the official language of Wakanda was solidified by Chad, a native of South Carolina, because he was able to learn his lines in Xhosa, there on the spot. He also advocated for his character to speak with an African accent, so that he could present T’Challa to audiences as an African king, whose dialect had not been conquered by the West.

I finally met Chad in person in early 2016, once I signed onto the film. He snuck past journalists that were congregated for a press junket I was doing for CREED, and met with me in the green room. We talked about our lives, my time playing football in college, and his time at Howard studying to be a director, about our collective vision for T’Challa and Wakanda. We spoke about the irony of how his former Howard classmate Ta-Nehisi Coates was writing T’Challa’s current arc with Marvel Comics. And how Chad knew Howard student Prince Jones, who’s murder by a police officer inspired Coates’ memoir Between The World and Me.

I noticed then that Chad was an anomaly. He was calm. Assured. Constantly studying. But also kind, comforting, had the warmest laugh in the world, and eyes that seen much beyond his years, but could still sparkle like a child seeing something for the first time.

That was the first of many conversations. He was a special person. We would often speak about heritage and what it means to be African. When preparing for the film, he would ponder every decision, every choice, not just for how it would reflect on himself, but how those choices could reverberate. “They not ready for this, what we are doing…” “This is Star Wars, this is Lord of the Rings, but for us… and bigger!” He would say this to me while we were struggling to finish a dramatic scene, stretching into double overtime. Or while he was covered in body paint, doing his own stunts. Or crashing into frigid water, and foam landing pads. I would nod and smile, but I didn’t believe him. I had no idea if the film would work. I wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing. But I look back and realize that Chad knew something we all didn’t. He was playing the long game. All while putting in the work. And work he did.

He would come to auditions for supporting roles, which is not common for lead actors in big budget movies. He was there for several M’Baku auditions. In Winston Duke’s, he turned a chemistry read into a wrestling match. Winston broke his bracelet. In Letitia Wright’s audition for Shuri, she pierced his royal poise with her signature humor, and would bring about a smile to T’Challa’s face that was 100% Chad.

While filming the movie, we would meet at the office or at my rental home in Atlanta, to discuss lines and different ways to add depth to each scene. We talked costumes, military practices. He said to me “Wakandans have to dance during the coronations. If they just stand there with spears, what separates them from Romans?” In early drafts of the script. Eric Killmonger’s character would ask T’Challa to be buried in Wakanda. Chad challenged that and asked, what if Killmonger asked to be buried somewhere else?

Chad deeply valued his privacy, and I wasn’t privy to the details of his illness. After his family released their statement, I realized that he was living with his illness the entire time I knew him. Because he was a caretaker, a leader, and a man of faith, dignity and pride, he shielded his collaborators from his suffering. He lived a beautiful life. And he made great art. Day after day, year after year. That was who he was. He was an epic firework display. I will tell stories about being there for some of the brilliant sparks till the end of my days. What an incredible mark he’s left for us.

I haven’t grieved a loss this acute before. I spent the last year preparing, imagining and writing words for him to say, that we weren’t destined to see. It leaves me broken knowing that I won’t be able to watch another close-up of him in the monitor again or walk up to him and ask for another take.

It hurts more to know that we can’t have another conversation, or facetime, or text message exchange. He would send vegetarian recipes and eating regimens for my family and me to follow during the pandemic. He would check in on me and my loved ones, even as he dealt with the scourge of cancer.

In African cultures we often refer to loved ones that have passed on as ancestors. Sometimes you are genetically related. Sometimes you are not. I had the privilege of directing scenes of Chad’s character, T’Challa, communicating with the ancestors of Wakanda. We were in Atlanta, in an abandoned warehouse, with bluescreens, and massive movie lights, but Chad’s performance made it feel real. I think it was because from the time that I met him, the ancestors spoke through him. It’s no secret to me now how he was able to skillfully portray some of our most notable ones. I had no doubt that he would live on and continue to bless us with more. But it is with a heavy heart and a sense of deep gratitude to have ever been in his presence, that I have to reckon with the fact that Chad is an ancestor now. And I know that he will watch over us, until we meet again."

[trannydean-moved]

for the oc alphabet soup? im such an enabler *rubs together my little hands like a raccoon* m as in mich

oh ho ho you've done it now /lh

Agent Michigan is my main RvB OC. My favorite OC I've ever created. My personal blorbo, my love and joy, the light of my life. I'd do anything for that stupid fucker, including bending around previous plots to make sure she stays alive (I've done that at least a few times).

Agent Michigan (mostly known as Mich) (real name Cascade Locke but only a handful of ppl know that) is the younger sibling of Agent York, her dumbfuck older brother who raised her to be just as much of a dumbfuck he is (affectionate but exasperated).

She's pansexual, demi-panromantic, and agender, and goes by she/her pronouns. Depending on which part of the timeline we're speaking of, she is 18 during year 1 of PFL, 25 at the beginning of s6/Reconstruction, 26 at the beginning of the Chorus trilogy, and 28 during s15.

Mich is 5'3, has mellow brown skin, hazel eyes, and usually bleached blonde hair cut short. She has had it in multiple styles over the years, but the norm is for her to have it in a short, masculine cut. A favorite she often falls back to is an undercut (similiar to lots of fcs of Wash portray).

In many ways, Mich is a lot like her older brother--laidback, friendly, a lock-picker (of course), an avid coffee drinker. She's also impulsive, expressive, an overthinker, and perceptive. She argues a lot with her brother and companions, she can be quite competitive under certain circumstances, and she's not the best listener.

When I said Mich was friendly, I really meant it. This poor little idiot had minimal friends for the first 15 years of her life, with the only person she knew and cared for that cared for her back was her older brother. When she was able to meet other people, starting with the Church cousins (Carolina and Simmons), she became immediately attached. These were new people who thought she was a good kid and hung around her bc they liked her. After meeting them and getting to know them, Mich decided that she would be close with them for forever and figured them to be some of the best people out there. (This partially makes up some of the angst I have for her.... Mich has lots of angst surrounding her and the ones she loves)

Carolina and York joining the military and Simmons being sent off to boarding school (supposedly) left Mich alone for the very first time. Spoiler alert: she didn't like it! So, on her 18th birthday, she enlisted into the military, and soon after was deployed. She was assigned a training base affiliated with Project Freelancer, and after months of hard work and no small amount of blackmailing and forgery, Mich was able to join the project her brother and "sister" were a part of.

Lots of things happened after that! Mich made the first best friend she'd ever had. She made enemies she never wanted and a one-sided rivalry over someone's ridiculous moustache and accent (give you one guess who). Oh, and she fell in love, too. Despite being a self-declared "amazing flirt", Mich is a TOTAL dork and has a hard time expressing true feelings about many things.

Then lots of other things happened! People died, people were lost, people were killing. Young Mich wasn't the biggest fan??? She also hated the Director, even before Freelancer, but even after getting the opportunity to leave, she stuck around. She stuck around for her brother, and for Carolina, and for her new friends. She wasn't about to leave them.

And, you guessed it, more things happened! More people died, ships crashed, and just like that, Mich and her brother are wanted fugitives being portrayed as intergalactic criminals! They decide first to go find Simmons, but when they get to their home planet, they find it surrounded by Coveneant ships. Did I mention they're from Reach and they returned in 2552 to find it glassed? Well, now I did.

They eventually find Simmons on a faraway planet that civilians were brought to, and they convinced him to join their "criminalistic bandwagon", as Mich fondly put it. Chaos ensued. Simmons was given his first set of armor after they raided a PFL base. They painted it maroon, with steel as his secondary color and aqua as detail, in honor of Carolina, who was very much missed by everyone there, by the way.

Mich, York, Simmons, and the AI Delta and Tau stay on the run for over four years before they run into major trouble. Their pelican is a piece of shit, the UNSC is on their butts, and it's looking like they're gonna get caught. So what does York, as acting leader, do? He shoves his younger counterparts into an escape pod and sends it off while he tries escaping on his own. Not the greatest plan ever? But this is York. He's not the greatest planner.

Mich and Simmons' escape pod lands in a dry desert canyon occupied by two certain color-coded armies who are apparently at war with each other, but don't really act like it. This is, of course, Blood Gulch, and they soon come to realize they had landed in a simulation base owned by PFL, and therefore, the Director.

Awesome! Great! Best situation ever! Is TOTALLY what the two thought (they didn't) (they were scared for their lives, until they realized their problem wasn't with PFL atm, it was with what Sarge would do if Mich looked at him wrong). They soon realize these two armies aren't the most competent of soldiers and decide to try fixing their radio to hopefully get in contact with York. They needed him to get them out of there.

Before it could be fixed, however, transfer orders come in! And Mich and Simmons soon find themselves on the pelican taking Grif to Rat's Nest, where they reside at for the next 14 months until Mich's former best friend returns, seemingly a completely different person....

[blue-rasberry-soda]

A question I have: Which Freelancers are from the states they're named after, and which ones are from somewhere else? Where?

We have, to my knowledge, three freelancers whose home states/countries are confimed:

Tex, who has explicitly stated she is from Texas

Because of The Director's accent and Tex's confirmed home state, Carolina cannot be from Carolina. She's also from Texas.

Wyoming, who is British

My own thoughts are that Florida is actually from Florida and York cannot be from New York. He's just not. I feel like he's a Southerner, but probably not a Texan. I'm guessing Tennessee, Mississippi, or Georgia. Maybe Alabama? I can't explain why, he just has the vibe.

I don't have any ideas for the others, so I'd like to hear your thoughts!

[musinglymuse]

This recommendation list focuses on the main pairing, the hottest couple in Check Please: Eric “Bitty” Bittle and Jack Zimmerman or more affectionately known as Zimbits. They’ve come a long way since the beginning of Check Please!

I’ve compiled some of what I consider excellent fanfics that feature this couple although it does not contain all of my recommendations. They are in no particular order. I plan on creating more recommendation lists down the line, especially for other pairings in this fandom.

As a reminder, please make sure to check the tags and any warnings before reading. Take care of yourself!

Hold It All At Bay by psocoptera Psychic Bond AU // ~50k // R

The theory of extrapolative synchronization of the mirror neurons was debunked back when he was still in his teens, so Jack is reluctant to mention that he can smell Bitty's pies baking from across campus.

Easy P-Z by ebjameston HGTV AU // ~21k // PG-13

Jack and Kent are the ridiculously handsome house-renovating married retired hockey players that’ve been making HGTV an absolutely stupid amount of money with their new show.

And Eric Bittle just got hired to be their show’s caterer.

Eric Bittle, NBC 10 by foryouandbits Journalist AU // ~82k // NC-17

In 2009, Jack Zimmermann was drafted 2nd overall to the Providence Falconers. After a tumultuous first season in the minors, Jack returns to the NHL and is named captain within a year. Known to the media as the "hockey robot," no one seems to be able to break through the polite barrier that Jack has built — no one until Eric Bittle, newest intern at NBC 10. Bitty, interning as a requirement for his journalism degree at nearby Samwell University, forms an instant connection with Jack. Throughout the rest of the season, and the rest of Bitty's junior year at Samwell, the two grow closer while learning how to both trust each other and succeed in their respective careers.

What I want to feel, I want to feel it now by RabbitRunnah Bakery AU // ~28k // PG-13

Eric Bittle knows the way his life is supposed to go: According to an old family curse, the love of his life will take one bite of his famous apple pie and fall madly in love with him. And they'll live happily ever after.

There's only one problem: Jack Zimmermann doesn't like pie.

Back to You by PorcupineGirl Canon Divergence // ~15k // PG-13

When Jack kissed him at graduation over a year and a half ago, Eric had been too shocked to really think about what it might mean, long-term. They'd talked constantly over the next six weeks, enough for him to feel confident that Jack felt the same way he did, and to start to imagine what those far-off futures might look like together.

And then Jack came to Madison for the Fourth of July, and Eric made the stupidest mistake of his life: He let himself and Jack talk themselves out of it.

he will take you by hockeydyke Camp Counselor AU // ~55k // PG-13

Jack Zimmermann has been a part of Camp Samwell for the majority of his life-- first as a camper when his parents spent summers in nearby at a lake house in scenic upstate New York, then as a counselor, and now as the program director of the entire camp. The problem now is that the camp is attracting bad luck left and right, and they’re losing campers and staff at an alarming rate. Enter Eric Bittle, Jack’s new co-director. He’s young, enthusiastic, and maybe he’ll have what it takes to get the situation turned around.

Unfortunately, something powerful is in control of Camp Samwell, and it wants Bitty to get out.

<lj-cut text="you see who I am and what I did"> by tomato_greens Rock Band AU // ~11k // PG-13

Rolling Stone

No Jack Zimmermann Is An Island by Jennifer S. Harada

After avoiding me for a week, Jack Zimmermann calls to ask me to meet him at a bakery. Or maybe a diner; he’s not sure what to call it. A brunch place, although they make great pies, too.

“Sure,” I say, “whatever you want, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Jack,” says Zimmermann. His voice is higher than I expect it to be, and his Québécois accent more pronounced. “I’ll see you there.”

someone to count on (and other cheesy idioms about finding your soulmate) by heyfightme & omgpieplease Soulmate AU // ~9k // PG-13

Eric’s counter reads 1. That’s all. Just 1. He’s eighteen years old, has not left the state of Georgia in his entire life, and his counter reads 1.

He has spent many mindless afternoons and worn out many pens in tracing it over into a 0. If the counter did read 0, the morning wouldn’t be looming like the black rainclouds that Mama used to call “omens.”

Eric is leaving for college in the morning. When he passes the state line from Georgia to North Carolina in the passenger seat of his Mama’s sedan, he’ll also be passing the last chance he has for the counter to make it to 2.

Calendar Boy by darter_blue Canon Divergence // ~15k // R

It was supposed to be totally innocent. A friend of Lardo’s was putting together a little project, compiling a calendar of some of the openly gay athletes on campus, fundraising for the LGBTQ+ community outreach programs at Samwell.

Bitty hadn't really even been reluctant. Excited about the prospect of a fun photo shoot and a chance to dress up a bit, do something glamorous.

And he thinks it's a great photo (if not a bit more revealing than what he was expecting…). And when the calendar comes out it’s nerve racking but exciting. Until one by one the team finds a copy (Jack may be hiding one under his mattress), and then it's pandemonium.

is it too late now to say sorry by magneticwave AU // ~5K // PG-13

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS, Eric types furiously into Twitter. THIS IS LIKE RENAMING LAKE WOEBEGONE “LAKE SCOTT WALKER.” // Or, the only person in the entirety of Canada who is upset about Jack Zimmermann’s first Stanley Cup is Eric Bittle, and by God is every single one of Eric’s 160,000 Twitter followers going to hear about it.

I Can Feel the Storm Inside You by Effyeahzimbits AU // ~15k // NC-17

Life is going good for Eric Bittle. It's summer, he has an exciting new job with the Providence Falconers, he's in a club celebrating with his friends, and he currently has a Canadian Adonis grinding up against his ass. Life is good.

Until said Canadian Adonis flees the morning after some mind-blowing sex, leaving behind a rubbish note. Bitty tries hard to forget about him and his huge, pert ass and focus on his new job, but then Canadian Adonis and the Falc's grumpy, anti-social captain turn out to be one and the same. And Bitty really couldn't forget about that huge, pert ass.

three words that became hard to say by the_one_that_fell Canon Divergence // Series // ~35k // R

Ten years after Samwell, Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann find each other again.

Flight Check by edgarallanrose Flight Attendant AU // ~15k // NC-17

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

Bits of Heaven by WrathoftheStag Older / Bakery AU // ~22k // R

At age 44, NHL legend, Jack Zimmermann, knows three things for sure: retirement is boring, love is probably not in the cards for him, and his aging father makes a pretty good roommate. When the bakery "Bits of Heaven" opens up down the street, Jack finds that a happily ever after is possible—even late in the game.

A Tolerance for Pain by uniqueinalltheworld Soulmate AU // ~3k // R

It makes sense, his mother tells him when he's nine: Jack's such a physical person, of course his indicator would be his soulmate's pain. Jack doesn't have anything to say about it, really, he just scowls and winces as his soulmate falls down again. Alicia Zimmermann, whose heterochromia reversed itself upon laying eyes on Bob for the first time, because she’s more passionate about visual media, pats him on the shoulder with a completely insufficient amount of sympathy. Jack's backside is sore for months as the falls keep happening, and he can only think that somewhere, his soulmate must be learning how to skate.

[kckv]

The Braavosi smiled

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[96thdayofrage]

The clashes in Charlottesville catalyzed the American public’s reckoning with the budding white nationalist movement, which had accelerated after Donald Trump’s election. Afterward, the wave of public shaming of the violence in Charlottesville led at least one “Unite the Right” marcher to insist his participation in the rally was misinterpreted as racist. Others who attended quickly lost their jobs after online campaigns exposed them.

But the eventual identification of the man in the white tank top and red hat shook many: He was revealed to be a 33-year-old Puerto Rican resident of Georgia, originally from the Bronx. “I’m the only brown Klans member I ever met,” Alex Michael Ramos joked in a Facebook Live video before he turned himself into police Aug. 28. The Facebook post has since been taken down.

But Ramos wasn’t the only “Unite the Right” marcher with a Hispanic background.

Christopher Rey Monzon, a 22-year-old Cuban-American, is associated with the League of the South, which the Southern Poverty Law Center classifies as a neo-Confederate hate group. Monzon was arrested weeks after Charlottesville for charging at protesters in a separate Florida demonstration. And Nick Fuentes, a 19-year-old student who hosts an alt-right podcast called America First, said he had to leave Boston University in the aftermath of the Charlottesville protests after receiving death threats over his participation.

The presence of these Latino men at the largest white nationalist event in recent memory underscores the complicated racial position of Latinos in the United States. Latino white supremacy, it turns out, might not be a contradiction in terms.

Increasingly, Latinos are identifying racially as white. In fact, more than half did so in the 2010 U.S. Census. A March 2016 report from Pew Research Center found that 39% of Afro-Latinos also identified “as white alone or white in combination with another race.” With a current population of around 58 million, Latinos make up the second-largest ethnic group in the U.S., just behind whites.

Another Pew Research Center study from December found that 59% of U.S. adults with Latino heritage who identify as white believe others see them as white, too. Over time, the study found, descendants of Latino immigrants stop identifying with their countries of origin and consider themselves more and more American.

Fuentes — who says he’s about 25% Mexican — identifies as white, not Latino. In an interview with Mic, Fuentes also said he believes multiculturalism threatens white national identity. Monzon, meanwhile, has called for South Florida to secede from the U.S. His ties to the League of the South are generational, as his parents have also protested with the white supremacist fringe group, according to the SPLC. In a Facebook profile the SPLC has attributed to him, Monzon goes by “Ambrosio Gonzalez,” the name of a Cuban general who fought as a Confederate colonel in the Civil War.

Ramos, however, rejects any notion that he’s racist, insisting he went to Charlottesville in defense of free speech and as a show of force against left-wing groups like Black Lives Matter and Antifa.

During the nearly hourlong video Ramos posted to Facebook, he became agitated at users who challenged him for marching with the KKK and jumping a black man.

“Yeah, I stood side-by-side with racist people, but they weren’t racist to me,” Ramos said. “They did not call me a ‘spic,’ they did not call me a ‘fucking wetback,’ they didn’t say nothing as such. We stood for the same common goal.”

Alex Michael Ramos has been charged in connection with the beating of a black man during violent clashes in Charlottesville, Virginia, during the “Unite the Right” rally Aug. 12.

Uncredited/AP

Despite his stated goals, the brutal violence in the video from that day was enough for judges in Charlottesville to twice deny Ramos bond.

“The victim was defenseless,” Judge Richard Moore of the Charlottesville General District Court said at Ramos’ bail hearing in November. “Mr. Ramos rushes into something where people are pummeling Mr. Harris. He is an unreasonable risk to others.”

Ramos is facing a malicious wounding charge and could spend up to 20 years in prison if convicted, according to local station WVIR-TV. Through his attorney, Ramos declined to be interviewed.

Other alleged perpetrators include Daniel Patrick Borden of Ohio, who was identified online and arrested in connection to Harris’ attack. Like Ramos, he was also denied bond. Authorities arrested another suspect, Arkansas man Jacob Scott Goodwin, in October and extradited him to Charlottesville the following month.

Harris himself was later forced to turn himself in when Harold Ray Crews, an attorney and resident of Walkertown, North Carolina — and the state’s chairman for League of the South — claimed Harris injured him in the same scuffle. Though Harris’ felony charge for unlawful wounding was dropped in December, “there are still misdemeanor charges pending,” according to the Root.

Fuentes is, in many ways, representative of the ideas of the so-called alt-right, which the Anti-Defamation League defines as a “loose network of racists and anti-Semites.” His Twitter feed shows equal disdain for conservative commentator Ben Shapiro and the South Side of Chicago, which has seen a sharp increase in gang-related murders in recent years. Though he decried Heyer’s murder at the “Unite the Right” rally during his interview with Mic, he also equated it with antifa violence.

Fuentes did acknowledge there isn’t much reconciliation between his stance on multiculturalism — simply put, it’s bad and should be avoided — and his own cultural background: His Mexican ancestors immigrated to the U.S. at the turn of the 20th century. Intermarriage has created a “beige, rootless mass,” he said, and he rejects any notion that Latino immigrants can assimilate.

“I don’t buy the idea that if you come to a country and your kids learned the language, you’re from that country,” Fuentes said. “You have to understand that America is an exceptional nation; it’s the proposition nation. That’s why the identity question is so big here. America was obviously settled only very recently. If I moved to China and I filled out the paperwork, would that make me Chinese? Of course not. I would maybe be a part of the People’s Republic.”

“They demonize the ‘other,’ but the irony is that they were once the ‘other.’”

Fuentes’s own standard — that learning English and settling in the U.S. does not make you American — disenfranchises himself and his parents, a fact he acknowledged. From the perspective of someone who sees the U.S. as a foundationally European nation, as Fuentes does, being anything less than white is the same as being a nonentity.

“You rob children of something very fundamental when you take away a common and coherent identity,” he said. “I look at my Eastern European people from high school and they have their food and their special clothing from their home country. But when you have race mixing, you rob them. I do pause at that. This is not an experience I wish to replicate. I don’t know if I wish I could turn back the clock and change things, but ideally there wouldn’t be mixing.”

Joanna Mendelson, senior investigative researcher and director of special projects for the ADL, sees growing anti-immigrant views from the descendants of Latino immigrants as a unique conundrum.

“It’s this idea that, ‘we did it right, we did it legally,’” Mendelson said in an interview with Mic. “They’re not just addressing illegal immigration — which would be one thing — but they’re against refugees and Muslims and legal immigration. They demonize the ‘other,’ but the irony is that they were once the ‘other.’”

On Aug. 20, days after the Charlottesville protests, Juan Cadavid, a Colombian-born Californian who now goes by the name Johnny Benitez, led an “America First!” rally in Southern California he described as a vigil for victims of crimes committed by undocumented immigrants. Dozens of supporters were drowned out by nearly 2,500 counterprotesters, the Los Angeles Times reported.

In an interview with NPR in December, Benitez shared how he went from Occupy Wall Street protester and Bernie Sanders supporter to alt-right nationalist, claiming he was exiled from Occupy and called a bigot after he questioned the need for the group to support transgender people. He insisted he was not a white supremacist, but an advocate for what he called “white identity politics” — which includes embracing the 14 Words slogan used by white supremacists: “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.”

Benitez also told NPR he pushes for a United States that is “Italo-Spanish” white, to make room for the descendants of southern Europeans (which he considers himself to be). White nationalists such as Richard Spencer have said white Latinos could theoretically be part of a white ethno-nationalist state, but they still have mixed feelings about assimilation.

“In some instances you are rejected from the host culture, made to feel not American,” Benitez said of being an immigrant in the U.S. “And if I go back, I’m definitely not Colombian. You know, I didn’t live there, you can hear that I have an American accent, things like that, when I speak Spanish.”

Benitez’s girlfriend, Irma Hinojosa, cohosts The Right View, a YouTube talk show hosted with four other women who call themselves the “Deplorable Latinas.” The show features conservative Latinas commenting on the news from a point of view that conversation about Latinos and immigration focuses on the undocumented versus those who entered the country legally. Hinojosa also has her own YouTube channel where she livestreams protests and alt-right events. She was the only woman to speak at a June “Freedom of Speech” rally featuring Spencer and other alt-right figures.

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 85

Music Therapy

In 1944 Edgar Cayce, who healed thousands of people while in a trance state, said "Music is the medicine of the future."

Currently, some religious scholars in the Islamic world denounce music. This paper analyzes the Islamic perspective on music and singing, and concludes that using music as a therapeutic agent in medicine is not forbidden.

Documented evidence shows the power of music can be tapped to heal the body, strengthen the mind, and unlock the creative spirit. Published papers and journal articles offer dramatic accounts of how doctors, musicians, and healthcare professionals use music to deal with everything from anxiety to cancer, high blood pressure, chronic pain, dyslexia, and even mental illness. During childbirth, music can relieve expectant mothers' anxiety and help release endorphins, the body's natural painkillers, and thereby dramatically decrease the need for anesthesia.

Exposure to sound, music, and other acoustical vibrations can have a lifelong effect on health, learning, and behavior, for such exposure stimulates learning and memory and strengthens one's listening abilities. Music has been used as a treatment or cure from migraines to substance abuse.

One thousand years ago, Muslim physicians were in the forefront of medicine and used innovations and therapeutic techniques that are now considered modern. They treated mental illnesses by confining patients in asylums with twenty-first-century techniques of music therapy. In Fez, Morocco, an asylum for the mentally ill was built early in the eighth century, and asylums for the insane were built in Baghdad (705), Cairo (800), and Damascus and Aleppo (1270). In addition to baths and drugs, the mentally ill received kind and benevolent treatment, and were exposed to highly developed music-based therapy and occupational therapy. Special choirs and live bands were brought daily to present singing, musical, and comical performances to patients.

Malik al-Mansur Sayf al-Din Qalawun built the al-Mansuri hospital in Cairo (1284). Its most outstanding characteristic was that, just like today's advanced hospitals, provisions were made to entertain patients with light music. Professional storytellers were appointed to narrate stories and jokes (radio, TV, and computers perform these functions today). People who called the faithful to prayer would sing religious songs in their melodious voices before the morning call to prayer; so that afflicted patients might forget their suffering. This hospital still renders such services today.

Medical benefits

Music therapy has been lost for more than 1,000 years in the Muslim world and in the West. In the last three decades or so, the West has shown tremendous interest in using music therapy to treat several diseases and ailments. No one knows exactly how music heals, but it looks like our brains are wired to respond to it.

Dr. Clive Robbins, a co-founder of the Nordoff-Robbins Center for Music Therapy at New York University in New York City, says: "There is something intrinsically musical about the brain's neurological structure and the muscular function of the human organism. At a nonverbal level, music activates our minds, integrates our attention, and seems to help regulate some body functions." He has treated a child afflicted with cerebral palsy with music therapy in order to teach the child how to balance his body, coordinate his limbs' movement, and communicate. It has made him motivated and intent.

The right song seems to work in more than one way-distracting us from pain, boosting one's mood, reviving old memories, and even prompting the body to match its rhythms. Music has long been appreciated for its calming effects, but new research shows it also may have the power to restore and keep us healthy. Soothing sounds, from Tibetan chants to Beethoven symphonies, are being given scientific credit for preventing colds, easing labor pains, and even boosting anti-aging hormones. One study found that surgery patients who listened to comforting music recovered more quickly and felt less pain than those who did not. The International Journal of Arts Medicine reports that infants in intensive care units go home three days earlier, eat better, and gain more weight if the staff talks and sings to them.

Clinical studies and anecdotal evidence from music therapists suggest that the sound of music is soothing and comfortable. For example, music is credited with lowering cortisol, a stress hormone, as much as 25 percent; boosting endorphins, the body's natural opiates or feel-good drugs; reducing pain after surgery and reducing the need for sedatives and pain relievers; making patients recover from surgery faster and with less pain; possibly preventing colds; raising blood levels of Immunoglobin A (immune system fighter) to a whopping 14.1 percent; and easing labor without drugs. It also seems to help premature infants in intensive care; stimulate the brain's neural connections and promote children's spatial ability and memory; lower blood pressure as much as 5 points, reduce heart rate, improve cardiac output, and relax muscle tension; and manage non-pharmacological pain and discomfort.

But these are not all of its benefits, for research shows that music also improves the mood and mobility of people with Parkinson's, decreases nausea during chemotherapy, helps patients participate in medical treatment, decreases length of hospital stay, relieves anxiety and reduces stress, eases depression, enhances concentration and creativity, brings positive changes in mood and emotional states, increases awareness of self and environment, gives a sense of control over life through successful experiences, provides an outlet for expressing feelings, improves memory recall and thereby contributes to reminiscence and satisfaction with life. In addition, music therapy may allow for emotional intimacy with families and caregivers, relaxation for the entire family, and meaningful time spent together in a positive, creative way.

Exciting new research suggests that our brains respond to music almost as if it were medicine. Music may regulate some body functions, synchronize motor skills, stimulate mind and even make us smarter. According to Suzanne Hanser, D. Ed., a lecturer at Harvard Medical School's Department of Social Medicine: "There is no set prescription or a particular piece of music that will make everyone feel better or more relax. What counts is musical taste, kinds of memories, feelings and associations a piece of music brings to mind. Some people relax to classical music, others like the Moody Blues. The key is to individualize your musical selections."

Depression

Research conducted at the Stanford University School of Medicine provides some interesting results. For one group of 20 people aged between 61 and 86, moods rose and depression fell when they listened to familiar music they selected, on their own or with the help of a music therapist, while practicing various stress-reduction techniques. A control group who missed out on the music and the exercises saw no improvement during the 8-week study period. It helps to perform gentle exercises, depending on one's fitness level, while the music plays. Movements should be light and flowing. Breathe to the music, and gently come to rest when the music ends.

Insomnia

A study from the University of Louisville School of Nursing Research indicates that 24 out of 25 people with sleeping problems nod off more quickly, sleep longer, or get back to sleep more easily after listening to classical and New Age music. The music must be quiet and melodic, have a slow beat and few, if any, rhythmic accents. To be effective, one should skip the after-dinner coffee or tea and avoid telephone calls and TV after 9 p.m. Softer and quieter music should be played as bedtime approaches. Listen to the music in bed with a tape recorder or a CD player equipped with a silent on/off switch. One should lie quietly and take even, deep breaths.

Stress

Many studies have found that soothing melodies can ease anxiety and quiet both blood pressure and heart rate even under very stressful conditions. Everyday stress also responds to music. Select music that grabs your attention and, at the same time, relax your body so that all of your worries slip away. Slow music, like a love song sung by an accomplished singer or a calm instrumental piece may be perfect. If a slow tune gives your mind time to fret or obsess, switch to something livelier. Sit or lie down in a comfortable position and where you will not be disturbed. After a few minutes, perform a relaxation exercise.

Pain

One Yale University School of Medicine study found that people who listened to their favorite music while awake during a surgical procedure needed smaller amounts of sedatives and pain medication than those who did not. Music therapists and researchers say that physical discomfort from post-operative pain to chronic aches can be eased with flowing melodies and distracting rhythms. Dr. Alicia A. Clair, a board-certified music therapist and professor and director of music therapy at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, says that music can bring transitory relief from short-term and long-term pain and discomfort, such as arthritis and osteoporosis. Gentle and soothing stress-reducing music, which can relax and distract the mind, is helpful. Martha Burke, a board-certified music therapist in Durham, North Carolina, says: "Gently flowing music or music with a slow, steady pulse can help promote relaxation, which can then alter a patient's perception of pain. Soothing music can lower the heart rate and breathing rate, leading to further relaxation, and reduces tension that comes with the pain. We know music is so incredibly complex--it has tempo, rhythm, melody, and harmony. And so it stimulates the brain in many ways at once."

Brain damage

Samuel Wong, a Harvard-trained physician based in New York City, plays musical instruments to help patients with brain damage (from strokes) and Alzheimer's reconnect to the world. He is also music director of the Hong Kong Philharmonic and the Honolulu Symphony. "When brain damage (from stroke, Alzheimer's, etc.) leaves a devastated mental landscape, music 'builds a bridge' that allows patients to reconnect with the outside world. The study of medicine has informed my performance of music, and my learning of music has deepened my role in healing," he says. In 1996, researchers at Colorado State University tried giving 10 stroke victims 30 minutes of rhythmic stimulation each day for three weeks. Compared with untreated patients, they showed significant improvements in their ability to walk steadily. People with Parkinson's enjoyed similar benefits. Stroke victims and patients with Parkinson's walked more steadily and with better balance and speed if they practiced while hearing a balanced metrical beat or a piece of music with a powerful, even beat. A musical beat from any genre seemed to provide a rhythmic cue, which has a powerful, organizing effect on the brain's motor skills ;it helps harmonize movement almost at once, according to researchers. Scottish researchers have found that a daily dose of music significantly brightens the moods of institutionalized stroke victims. When daily music therapy was administered for 12 weeks, the patients were less depressed and anxious, and more stable and sociable than other patients in the same building. Music therapy also has proved useful in managing Alzheimer's and other neurological diseases.

Sounds of healing

Mitchell L. Gaynor, MD, director of medical oncology and integrative medicine at New York's Strang Cancer Prevention Center (affiliated with the Cornell Medical Center), says: "More doctors are seeing a connection between harmonious sound and health. If we are around very harmonious people and harmonious vibrations and harmonious sounds, we begin to feel better. I have never found anything more powerful than sound and voice and music to begin to heal and transform every aspect of people's lives. It can really change people's lives.” "We know that music is capable of enhancing the body's immune function, lowering heart rate, lowering stress-related hormones like cortisol that raise our blood pressure and depress our immune systems. It also trims complications after heart attack, calms anxiety, slows breathing and increases production of endorphins, the body's natural painkillers. Eighty percent of the stimuli that reach our brains come through our ears."  "Even before birth, music makes a difference. Hearing is the first sense to develop, when the fetus is only 18 weeks old (Qur'an 32:9). We know that the unborn child hears for literally half the pregnancy and is affected profoundly by what it hears. Studies show that music by Mozart and Vivaldi actually can bring down fetal heart rate, calm brain waves, and reduce the baby's kicking. Rock music, on the other hand, appeared to drive fetuses to distraction, greatly increasing kicking." "Our bodies are 70 percent water, and thus excellent conductors for sound and vibration. We do not hear just with our ears, but literally feel vibration's sound with every cell in our body. Disharmony and noise, whether from traffic, the boss yelling at us about a deadline, or a jackhammer on the street can make us stressed, depressed, and pessimistic--all of which depress our immune systems. That is why disharmony can eventually lead to disease." "Our own voices are very underutilized healing tools. Singing is a great way to tap music's healing power. If you are self-conscious, try chanting. Anyone can do it, and you can't do it wrong. We are just seeing the tip of the iceberg as far as the incredible power of sound to affect every cell and every organ system in our bodies."(10) The Qur'an says: He fashioned him in due proportion and breathed into him something of His spirit. And He gave you (the faculties of) hearing and sight and feeling (and understanding). Little thanks do you give! (32:9, 16:78, 67:23). Dr. Keith Moore, professor and chairman of the Department of Anatomy at the University of Toronto's School of Medicine, writes in his most popular textbook on human embryology that the human embryo first gets the ears (hearing), then the eyes (sight), and next the brain (feeling and understanding or mental faculties) in that order, as mentioned in the above Qur'anic verses. On the other hand, very loud music with sounds louder than 90 decibels cause stress and ear damage. Pierce J. Howard, Ph.D., director of the Center for Applied Cognitive Studies in Charlotte, NC, says: "Very loud music creates an altered state of consciousness akin to an alcoholic or drug-induced stupor that can become addictive."

The Mozart effect

Don Campbell, a composer, music researcher and teacher, healer and the author of The Mozart Effect, learned that he had a potentially fatal blood clot in an artery just below his brain. He shrunk the blood clot from more than 1.5-inch length to one-eighth of an inch by humming quietly for three to four minutes at a time, up to seven times a day. He did this for three weeks before he went back for a second brain scan. In The Mozart Effect, he writes: "You know music can affect your mood: it can make you feel happy, enchanted, inspired, wistful, excited, empowered, comforted, and heroic. Particular sounds, tones and rhythms can strengthen the mind, unlock the creative spirit, and miraculously, even heal the body. Exposure to sound, music, and other forms of vibration, beginning in-utero, can have a life long effect on health, learning and behavior." In conclusion, one should listen to a piece of music that one finds inspirational and uplifting. Dr. Ahmed al-Kadi of Florida's Akbar Clinic conducted research on the healing power of listening to Qur'anic recitations. There is an urgent need for conducting more research on music therapy by Muslim physicians in the West and in the Muslim world.

[ducktracy]

bob clampett’s daffy

i hated daffy as a kid. i thought he was annoying, unnecessarily rude, bitter, and mean. and he was. and now i’m going to preach to you about why he’s my favorite character in the franchise, and how bob clampett totally changed my view of him.

although tex avery was the father of daffy, bob clampett was the first director other than tex to use daffy in a cartoon. clampett’s 1938 “what price porky” pins daffy as the dictator and leader of a group of ducks who are currently in a war with a group of chickens, with porky in the crossfire.

daffy’s head is a perfect circle with no feathers, and he’s considerably taller than other appearances. he’s a bit more rotund too, making him seem more malleable and easier to manipulate with gags. notice how his eyes seem like they could continue to wrap around his head. we start to see what will stay in his design for years to come and what will go, such as lacking the trademark white ring around his neck. what he DOES have, however, and for the first time, is his trademark lisp.

his next appearance in a clampett cartoon is “porky and daffy” (1938). this is truly where his daffiness is allowed to shine. porky enters daffy in a boxing match against a burly, undefeated chicken. the match includes (but is not limited to) daffy acting like a lion tamer, riding an invisible bicycle, and hiding in the beak of a pelican. the short is really just daffy being daffy, but we get to see how he interacts with porky.

his eyes are much taller and skinnier than they were in “what price porky”, and his head and body have been slimmed down. the ring around his neck is jagged, something that would make a few appearances in his design for the next 2 years.

in around 1939-1940 daffy was drawn with a light colored “mask” around his eyes and the ring around his neck a zig zag. there’s a definite difference between these two pictures (left: wise quacks, 1939, right: porky’s last stand, 1940). on the left daffy’s eyes are rather skinny and tall like the rest of him, the mask around his face taking up half of his face, whereas on the right daffy’s eyes are shorter and wider (again, like the rest of him) with the mask taking up less room. interestingly to note, porky’s last stand would be the last short to feature daffy looking like that, aside from a few advertisements in the early 40s.

both continue to prominently feature daffy as unhinged, off the handle, giddy, and, well, daffy. he was truly the epitome of ignorance was bliss. he was oblivious and didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t care. he had such an energy to him that’s so addicting to watch. of course, nothing but screaming HOO HOO! CAN get old over time, but the way clampett just makes him so enthusiastic and such a firm believer in whatever he’s currently preoccupied with is contagious. it’s hard to be in a bad mood when daffy’s jumping around all corners of the screen screaming in your ears.

clampett’s “the henpecked duck” (1941) is really the first short that would dictate how daffy would look in the rest of clampett’s cartoons. his eye mask is gone and the ring around his neck isn’t jagged, and he’s considerably taller and skinnier. his head is still rather short and round, but he’s really starting to take shape.

daffy’s personality also changes in this short. previously he was just a prop, truly a daffy duck. but now “the henpecked duck” opens with daffy and his wife (yes, he has a wife in this short) in the courthouse in front of a judge porky, with his wife angrily demanding to get a divorce. daffy is depressed and devoid of energy, not for a quick, breathless joke, but for suspense. in his previous shorts he’d shown bouts of anxiety or anger, but typically they blew through for a punchline. now something serious is going on, he’s actually depressed, he’s something other than wacky.

the majority of the short is a flashback. daffy is supposed to be laying on an egg as his angry wife is out for the day. because he IS daffy, boredom strikes and he eventually does magic tricks with said egg, making it disappear, reappear, disappear, reappear, disappear..... disappear. the egg is gone and he freaks out, and suddenly we’re back in the courtroom. all eyes are on daffy as he does one last cautious “alakazam....” and the egg is back in his hand and his marriage is saved.

it’s a strange and goofy premise, sure, but it’s surprisingly riveting, primarily because this is when we really get to see daffy express some real emotion. he’s a very versatile character. clampett prioritizes his daffiness, but that’s not to say he’s purely daffy. he can be angry, anxious, upset... he expresses such a wide range of emotions which is what i love about clampett’s characterization. he’s so versatile and UNPREDICTABLE. you don’t know what you’re going to get. it’s an element of surprise. it’s formulaic, but at the same time it isn’t at all.

two years later in 1943 we have “the wise quacking duck” with daffy taking on a role he hadn’t assumed for quite awhile: prey. in it, we have “mr. meek”, a dopey, meek, balding man who tries to appease his “sweetiepuss”’s hunger by serving her duck for dinner. daffy, of course, is said duck.

the short is just daffy teasing mr meek (quite literally, there’s an infamous scene where he does an actual strip tease) by throwing eggs at him, pretending his head was cut off, hitting him in the face with pies and coffee creamer, etc. it’s another “daffy daffy” short, but it’s so energetic and fun. there’s a method to daffy’s madness, and at the same time there isn’t one at all. you know he’s going to do some crazy stuff, but you don’t know what exactly he’s going to do.

daffy’s appearance is pretty solid from here on out. skinny, oval shaped head, long, slender bill, pear shaped body. i really like this design to him, he still looks like a duck. chuck jones draws a great daffy, but i just like clampett’s daffy more. it might be the bill. clampett’s cartoons make a point of daffy’s lisp, making him spew spit everywhere and his tongue has a life of its own. it’s great. they really took his physical qualities and had as much fun with it as they could.

in 1945 we have “draftee daffy”, about daffy getting drafted into the war and frantically trying to evade it. this is a personal favorite of mine, the energy is boundless. in a matter of seconds daffy is happily marching around, singing about how he was drafted, and all of the sudden he screams and breaks down into sobs. what an unpredictable mess! that’s why i love clampett’s daffy. he’s messy. a matter of seconds and facial expressions later he can act like a totally different person (or duck). again, he’s a firm believer in whatever scheme he’s riding the high on currently, whether that’s one-upping bugs, seducing his way out of becoming a roast duck dinner, or trying to dodge the draft. not much to note on his design here.

you knew this was coming! 1946 gives us “book revue” in a slew of continuous great shorts just before clampett left WB. i love how ridiculous daffy is in this. he’s not even in half of the cartoon, maybe topping out at about 3 minutes max, but he’s what makes it so memorable.

the short is another “books come to life” cartoon, a theme that had been popular in the late 30s and early 40s (another clampett cartoon starring daffy and porky was 1941’s “a coy decoy”, pertaining to this theme). as various book title pun related characters are playing a rousing rendition of frank sinatra’s “it had to be you”, daffy pops out of nowhere and throws on a zoot suit, wig, bad russian accent and danny kaye impression, and suddenly has disconcerting teeth. he screams at everyone to shut up, demonstrates his poor vocabulary by talking about sitting on balalaikas (a guitar like instrument), and sings “carolina in the morning” while rolling every “r” possible.

basically he encounters little red riding hood, warns her about the big bad wolf (by scatting), and the cartoon ends with the wolf chasing daffy around until the cops book him and the wolf, wooed by frank sinatra, passes out and literally goes to hell and tells everyone to stop celebrating his departure.

daffy’s just so good in this. he’s so in character and out of character. yes, i could see bugs putting on the same costume and same shtick, but it would be a bit predictable. funny? absolutely, but bugs is known for his costumes. what costumes has daffy ever worn? his wardrobe isn’t nearly as expansive as bugs’. it’s a nice surprise. just how out of character he is proves how in character he is.

“baby bottleneck” (1946) is next, one of my all time favorite cartoons. porky and daffy make such a great pair, they’re so different. daffy’s just completely off the handle in this one. i’ve rambled about this one a lot and repeated myself many times, so i won’t go too in depth here, but daffy’s unpredictability really carries the cartoon. he says he’ll sit on the egg. he doesn’t. he fights porky in a battle of strength and (lack of) wits. you just don’t know where the cartoon is going to head next, it’s packed with gags and so much action, i definitely recommend it. the jokes are nonstop.

and finally, saving the best for last... 1946’s “the great piggy bank robbery”, possibly my favorite clampett cartoon (just above baby bottleneck by a frog’s hair) and really one of my all time favorite cartoons in general.

the short starts off with daffy pacing around his mailbox impatiently (to the tune of raymond scott’s “powerhouse”—maybe that’s why i like this short and baby bottleneck so much, anything that uses powerhouse is automatically great to me) until exploding “WHY DON’T HE GET HERE!”

his attitude changes from pissed off to eager as the mailman arrives, slowly puts whatever daffy’s expecting in the mailbox, and walks away. we never see the mailman’s face or what it is that daffy is expecting, furthering the suspense. daffy tears through his mail and grabs what he was looking for and dashes over hill and dale before hugging his package, a comic book, and throwing himself upon it.

it’s a dick tracy comic, to which daffy declares “i LOOOOVE that man!”. what’s funny is that after this short i was watching frank tashlin’s “porky pig’s feat” (1943) and the antagonist gets his face pushed in by daffy, to which daffy looks at the camera and says “look, a dick tracy villain! pruneface!”. foreshadowing? 🤔🤔🤔

daffy reads to us the comic in excruciating detail (or lack thereof. he’s just manically sputtering out words. the change in emotion is what makes it so funny, from celebration to apprehension to despair, all in a matter of seconds). he celebrates the victory of dick tracy, saying how he’d love to punch those goony criminals, before punching HIMSELF in the face.

this is how we meet duck twacy, on the hunt for a case of stolen piggy banks (“it’s a piggy bank crime wave!”). daffy finds the case juvenile and a waste of his time... before he finds that his OWN piggy bank was stolen. he goes on a hunt for the culprit, kicking sherlock holmes off the streets, riding a trolley driven by porky for about 5 inches before arriving to the gangster’s hideout. he encounters a barrage of weirdly awesome villains, complete with a manic, breathless, and spitty narration of who is who. even though he thinks he’s about to be killed, you can tell that he’s totally eating up the fact that he’s in dick tracy’s shoes, that he recognizes all of these villains. after shooting all of the villains, he finds his own piggy bank and caresses it and kisses it. we’re now back in the real world where he’s kissing a barnyard pig who kisses him back and bashfully declares “i just love that duck!”, with daffy HOO HOO!ing off screen.

i should add, aside from the pig saying “i just love that duck!” and one of the villains grunting “guess who?”, no one in this short talks except daffy. and that’s why i love it so much. he carries the WHOLE thing. it’s all him and him alone. no one for him to upstage, no plans for him to ruin, we get to see his own motivations and his own personality.

i could ramble on forever about bob clampett and daffy, but i’ll try to summarize it the best i can here.

i love bob clampett’s daffy because he’s predictably unpredictable. his zaniness is prioritized above all else, but he’s able to feel emotions other than daffiness. he CAN be cynical, he CAN be depressed, he CAN be anxious, he CAN be happy... his emotions feel very believable, as zany as he is. you can go into each bob clampett daffy short knowing that he’s probably going to do something wild, but that’s it. you don’t know what he’s going to do. clampett keeps you on your toes with how he portrays daffy. daffy is TRULY unhinged in the best way possible.

thank you for reading! i’m sure i repeated myself and even contradicted myself dozens of times, but i love daffy and i love bob clampett. the best way to see for yourself how great he is is to watch some of these shorts. (i recommend the great piggy bank robbery, baby bottleneck, book revue, draftee daffy and the wise quacking duck, and the daffy doc and the henpecked duck are some really entertaining black and white shorts)

[classicfilmfan64]

Yes, his autograph is part of my character Actor autograph collection. I found this extensive biography online.

Lionel Jay Stander (January 11, 1908 – November 30, 1994) was an American actor in films, radio, theater, and television.

Lionel Stander was born in The Bronx, New York, to Russian-Jewish immigrants, the first of three children.

According to newspaper interviews with Stander, as a teenager, he appeared in the silent film MEN OF STEEL (1926), perhaps as an extra, since he is not listed in the credits.

During his one year at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, he appeared in the student productions The Muse of the Unpublished Writer, and The Muse and the Movies: A Comedy of Greenwich Village.

Stander's acting career began in 1928, as Cop and First Fairy in Him by E. E. Cummings, at the Provincetown Playhouse. He claimed that he got the roles because one of them required shooting craps, which he did well, and a friend in the company volunteered him. He appeared in a series of short-lived plays through the early 1930s, including The House Beautiful, which Dorothy Parker famously derided as "the play lousy".

In 1932, Stander landed his first credited film role in the Warner-Vitaphone short feature IN THE DOUGH (1932), with Fatty Arbuckle and Shemp Howard. He made several other shorts, the last being THE OLD GREY MAYOR (1935) with Bob Hope in 1935. That same year, he was cast in a feature, Ben Hecht's THE SCOUNDREL (1935), with Noël Coward. He moved to Hollywood and signed a contract with Columbia Pictures. Stander was in a string of films over the next three years, appearing most notably in Frank Capra's MR. DEEDS GOES TO TOWN (1936) with Gary Cooper, MEET NERO WOLFE (1936) playing Archie Goodwin, THE LEAGUE OF FRIGHTENED MEN (1937), and A STAR IS BORN (1937) with Janet Gaynor and Fredric March.

Stander's distinctive rumbling voice, tough-guy demeanor, and talent with accents made him a popular radio actor. In the 1930s and 1940s, he was on The Eddie Cantor Show, Bing Crosby's KMH show, the Lux Radio Theater production of A Star Is Born, The Fred Allen Show, the Mayor of the Town series with Lionel Barrymore and Agnes Moorehead, Kraft Music Hall on NBC, Stage Door Canteen on CBS, the Lincoln Highway Radio Show on NBC, and The Jack Paar Show, among others.

In 1941, he starred in a short-lived radio show called The Life of Riley on CBS, no relation to the radio, film, and television character later made famous by William Bendix. Stander played the role of Spider Schultz in both Harold Lloyd's film THE MILKY WAY (1936) and its remake ten years later, THE KID FROM BROOKLYN (1946), starring Danny Kaye. He was a regular on Danny Kaye's zany comedy-variety radio show on CBS (1946–1947), playing himself as "just the elevator operator" amidst the antics of Kaye, future Our Miss Brooks star Eve Arden, and bandleader Harry James.

Also during the 1940s, he played several characters on The Woody Woodpecker and Andy Panda animated theatrical shorts, produced by Walter Lantz. For Woody Woodpecker, he provided the voice of Buzz Buzzard, but was blacklisted from the Lantz studio in 1951 and was replaced by Dal McKennon.

Strongly liberal and pro-labor, Stander espoused a variety of social and political causes and was a founding member of the Screen Actors Guild. At a SAG meeting held during a 1937 studio technicians' strike, he told the assemblage of 2000 members: "With the eyes of the whole world on this meeting, will it not give the Guild a black eye if its members continue to cross picket lines?" (The NYT reported: "Cheers mingled with boos greeted the question.") Stander also supported the Conference of Studio Unions in its fight against the Mob-influenced International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees (IATSE). Also in 1937, Ivan F. Cox, a deposed officer of the San Francisco longshoremen's union, sued Stander and a host of others, including union leader Harry Bridges, actors Fredric March, Franchot Tone, Mary Astor, James Cagney, Jean Muir, and director William Dieterle. The charge, according to Time magazine, was "conspiring to propagate Communism on the Pacific Coast, causing Mr. Cox to lose his job".

In 1938, Columbia Pictures head Harry Cohn allegedly called Stander "a Red son of a bitch" and threatened a US$100,000 fine against any studio that renewed his contract. Despite critical acclaim for his performances, Stander's film work dropped off drastically. After appearing in 15 films in 1935 and 1936, he was in only six in 1937 and 1938. This was followed by just six films from 1939 through 1943, none made by major studios, the most notable being GUADALCANAL DIARY (1943).

Stander was among the first group of Hollywood actors to be subpoenaed before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in 1940 for supposed Communist activities. At a grand jury hearing in Los Angeles in August 1940—the transcript of which was shortly released to the press—John R. Leech, the self-described former "chief functionary" of the Communist Party in Los Angeles, named Stander as a CP member, along with more than 15 other Hollywood notables, including Franchot Tone, Humphrey Bogart, James Cagney, Clifford Odets, and Budd Schulberg. Stander subsequently forced himself into the grand jury hearing, and the district attorney cleared him of the allegations.

Stander appeared in no films between 1944 and 1945. Then, with HUAC's attention focused elsewhere due to World War II, he played in a number of mostly second-rate pictures from independent studios through the late 1940s. These include Ben Hecht's SPECTER OF THE ROSE (1946); the Preston Sturges comedy THE SIN OF HAROLD DIDDLEBOCK (1947) with Harold Lloyd; and TROUBLE MAKERS (1948) with The Bowery Boys. One classic emerged from this period of his career, the Preston Sturges comedy UNFAITHFULLY YOURS (1948) with Rex Harrison.

In 1947, HUAC turned its attention once again to Hollywood. That October, Howard Rushmore, who had belonged to the CPUSA in the 1930s and written film reviews for the Daily Worker, testified that writer John Howard Lawson, whom he named as a Communist, had "referred to Lionel Stander as a perfect example of how a Communist should not act in Hollywood." Stander was again blacklisted from films, though he played on TV, radio, and in the theater.

In March 1951, actor Larry Parks, after pleading with HUAC investigators not to force him to "crawl through the mud" as an informer, named several people as Communists in a "closed-door session", which made the newspapers two days later. He testified that he knew Stander, but did not recall attending any CP meetings with him.

At a HUAC hearing in April 1951, actor Marc Lawrence named Stander as a member of his Hollywood Communist "cell", along with screenwriter Lester Cole and screenwriter Gordon Kahn. Lawrence testified that Stander "was the guy who introduced me to the party line", and that Stander said that by joining the CP, he would "get to know the dames more" — which Lawrence, who did not enjoy film-star looks, thought a good idea. Upon hearing of this, Stander shot off a telegram to HUAC chair John S. Wood, calling Lawrence's testimony that he was a Communist "ridiculous" and asked to appear before the Committee, so he could swear to that under oath. The telegram concluded: "I respectfully request an opportunity to appear before you at your earliest possible convenience. Be assured of my cooperation." Two days later, Stander sued Lawrence for $500,000 for slander. Lawrence left the country ("fled", according to Stander) for Europe.

After that, Stander was blacklisted from TV and radio. He continued to act in theater roles and played Ludlow Lowell in the 1952-53 revival of Pal Joey on Broadway and on tour.

Two years passed before Stander was issued the requested subpoena. Finally, in May 1953, he testified at a HUAC hearing in New York, where he made front-page headlines nationwide by being uproariously uncooperative, memorialized in the Eric Bentley play, Are You Now or Have You Ever Been. The New York Times headline was "Stander Lectures House Red Inquiry." In a dig at bandleader Artie Shaw, who had tearfully claimed in a Committee hearing that he had been "duped" by the Communist Party, Stander testified,

"I am not a dupe, or a dope, or a moe, or a schmoe...I was absolutely conscious of what I was doing, and I am not ashamed of anything I said in public or private."

An excerpt from that statement was engraved in stone for "The First Amendment Blacklist Memorial" by Jenny Holzer at the University of Southern California.

Other notable statements during Stander's 1953 HUAC testimony:

- "[Testifying before HUAC] is like the Spanish Inquisition. You may not be burned, but you can't help coming away from a little singed."

- "I don't know about the overthrow of the government. This committee has been investigating 15 years so far, and hasn't found one act of violence."

- "I know of a group of fanatics who are desperately trying to undermine the Constitution of the United States by depriving artists and others of life, liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness without due process of law ... I can tell names and cite instances and I am one of the first victims of it. And if you are interested in that and also a group of ex-fascists and America-Firsters and anti-Semites, people who hate everybody including Negroes, minority groups and most likely themselves ... and these people are engaged in a conspiracy outside all the legal processes to undermine the very fundamental American concepts upon which our entire system of democracy exists."

- "...I don't want to be responsible for a whole stable of informers, stool pigeons, and psychopaths and ex-political heretics, who come in here beating their breast and say, 'I am awfully sorry; I didn't know what I was doing. Please--I want absolution; get me back into pictures.'"

- "My estimation of this committee is that this committee arrogates judicial and punitive powers which it does not possess."

Stander was blacklisted from the late 1940s until 1965; perhaps the longest period.

After that, Stander's acting career went into a free fall. He worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street, a journeyman stage actor, a corporate spokesman—even a New Orleans Mardi Gras king. He didn't return to Broadway until 1961 (and then only briefly in a flop) and to film in 1963, in the low-budget THE MOVING FINGER (although he did provide, uncredited, the voice-over narration for the 1961 noir thriller BLAST OF SILENCE.)

Life improved for Stander when he moved to London in 1964 to act in Bertolt Brecht's Saint Joan of the Stockyards, directed by Tony Richardson, for whom he'd acted on Broadway, along with Christopher Plummer, in a 1963 production of Brecht's The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui. In 1965, he was featured in the film PROMISE HER ANYTHING. That same year Richardson cast him in the black comedy about the funeral industry, THE LOVED ONE, based on the novel by Evelyn Waugh, with an all-star cast including Jonathan Winters, Robert Morse, Liberace, Rod Steiger, Paul Williams, and many others. In 1966, Roman Polanski cast Stander in his only starring role, as the thug Dickie in CUL-DE-SAC, opposite Françoise Dorléac and Donald Pleasence.

Stander stayed in Europe and eventually settled in Rome, where he appeared in many spaghetti Westerns, most notably playing a bartender named Max in Sergio Leone's ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST. He played the role of the villainous mob boss in Fernando Di Leo's 1972 poliziottescho thriller CALIBER 9. In Rome he connected with Robert Wagner, who cast him in an episode of It Takes a Thief that was shot there. Stander's few English-language films in the 1970s include THE GANG THAT COULDN'T SHOOT STRAIGHT (1971) with Robert De Niro and Jerry Orbach, Martin Scorsese's NEW YORK, NEW YORK (1977), which also starred De Niro and Liza Minnelli, and Steven Spielberg's 1941 (1979).

Stander played a supporting role in the TV film Revenge Is My Destiny with Chris Robinson. He played a lounge comic modeled after the real-life Las Vegas comic Joe E. Lewis, who used to begin his act by announcing "Post Time" as he sipped his ever-present drink.

After 15 years abroad, Stander moved back to the U.S. for the role he is now most famous for: Max, the loyal butler, cook, and chauffeur to the wealthy, amateur detectives played by Robert Wagner and Stefanie Powers on the 1979–1984 television series Hart to Hart (and a subsequent series of Hart to Hart made-for-television films). In 1983, Stander won a Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actor – Series, Miniseries or Television Film.

In 1986, he became the voice of Kup in THE TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE. In 1991 he was a guest star in the television series Dream On, playing Uncle Pat in the episode "Toby or Not Toby". His final theatrical film role was as a dying hospital patient in THE LAST GOOD TIME (1994), with Armin Mueller-Stahl and Olivia d'Abo, directed by Bob Balaban.

Stander was married six times, the first time in 1932 and the last in 1972. All but the last marriage ended in divorce. He fathered six daughters (one wife had no children, one had twins).

Stander died of lung cancer in Los Angeles, California, in 1994 at age 86. He was buried in Glendale's Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery.

[schraubd]

NBC Thursday Comedy Quick Thoughts

NBC really pushed its fall comedy lineup, with veteran battleships The Good Place and Superstore looking to boost newcomers Sunnyside and Perfect Harmony (notably, Brooklyn Nine Nine's seventh season will be coming a bit later). The first two are great shows, and they inspired Jill and I to give the pilots of the latter two a try. So ... quick thoughts on all four! *Potential Mild Spoilers* Superstore

I actually don't really have much to say about this show, other than Mateo's ICE detention is heartbreaking and terrible and a really good storyline but also just makes me very sad.

The Good Place

Seems like a whole bunch of our favorite guest-stars are going to get return appearances this season. I'm always here for more Marc Evan Jackson in my life. The sexy mailman who's always "going to the gym" shows up, much to Eleanor's side-eyed delight. We haven't seen Vicki yet (though to be honest, Tiya Sircar was much, much better as Real Eleanor). But the real stretch goal is if Trevor (aka Adam Scott) and his crew stage a return.

This show has earned a ton of trust, so take what I'm about to say very lightly, but ... if the show is serious about following through on using these random (or "random") four humans as test dummies to see if humans generally can get better in the Fake Good Place, then they're forgetting an important point of their premise. It's not that being in the (Fake) Good Place improves people. It's that particular elements of the original quartet, in conjunction with being in the Good Place, ended up bringing out the best in each other (under conditions of adversity). But that doesn't apply to any random four people, not the least because not all of them will necessarily experience this iteration of the Good Place as "adversity".

Perfect Harmony

I've missed Bradley Whitford on my TV screen. Trophy Wife, you were gone too soon. With respect to his probably drunk, deeply embittered character, Jill comments: "Josh Lyman in the Trump years."

Somebody identified Whitford as being from "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip," and I almost tossed my computer across the room.

I know Anna Camp is from South Carolina, but boy that accent she's putting on feels broad, doesn't it (and yes, I know that South Carolina and Kentucky are different places with different accents, but that's just it -- it feels like a caricature of "backwoods hick")? It's testament to just how gosh darn likable she is that I can look past it.

Dwayne's voice -- real, or put on by the actor?

That "Eye of the Tiger/Hallelujah" mashup was pretty damn good, I'd say! Seems like a lot for the choir to throw together on a few days notice without their star director, though.

The evil megachurch pastor definitely has engaged in some serious sexual misconduct, right?

Sunnyside

Kal Penn! Remember that time he got a job in the Obama administration and so they just had his character commit suicide out of nowhere on House?

I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed that the actress who plays the councilwoman who took Kal Penn's seat is an AOC looklike. And by "not the only one", I mean "everyone noticed, immediately, it's incredibly on the nose).

Man, between Mateo on Superstore and Drazen (a Moldovan immigrant and disco music fan) on Sunnyside, network TV is all of the sudden actually willing to tackle the fact that a bunch of people who are just living their lives in America are at constant risk of being plucked off the street and thrown into detention.

I really hope we haven't seen the last of Drazen -- his dynamic with Brady (also from Moldova, but came to America at two years old and doesn't even know where Moldova is) is fabulous. Save Peggy!

Best running gag on Sunnyside is Griselda working a job at every single place the group meets. Probably can't carry for a whole season, but it absolutely worked in the pilot.

Whoever plays Kal Penn's sister can get it.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/2mpNwXH

[itsagrifthing]

One Door Closes

A/N: Oof it’s been a while since I’ve written an rvb fic, but I’ve been going through my WIPs and I really liked this one

Summary: Grif, alone on the moon after the Reds and the Blues went off to save Church with Dylan and Jax, is forced to fend for himself. He comes to terms with each of the Reds as he learns to adapt. 

Tags: Anst, nightmares

Misc: Takes place during season 15, Carolina is red team you can’t change my mind!!! 

DAY 18 SINCE THOSE CRAZY FUCKERS DECIDED TO GO OFF ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE AND KILL THEMSELVES

It had been the second fucking night in row that Grif couldn’t sleep. Which is ridiculous.

Sleeping was his thing, after all. Laziness and sarcasm and food and all that shit. The sole purpose in his life is to seek better naps, darker horizons. He has dreams of sleeping on some faraway island, in a hammock, in a place Sarge or Simmons or all the rest could never find him (except maybe Lopez. Grif always got the feeling that Lopez was kinda cool).

Instead, tonight he roamed the empty, quiet hallways of their stupid makeshift fort. Alone.

He passed Sarge’s room, but still couldn’t bring himself to look inside. Grif had closed that door the day they all left, and it stayed tightly shut to this day. Simmons’s room was a whole other matter, of course-- Grif already raided it for leftover food, and graffitied all over the posters of Sarge and, horrifically, Transformers, hanging up on his wall (he also added a nice handlebar  mustache on every picture of Simmons in Red base. Gotta have a little cultural diversity, right?)

Grif automatically made his way to the kitchen, winding between the beat-up cutout of himself that Sarge propped up in the living room, and the blow-up AirChair Grif smuggled out from Chorus, and stopping right in front of the refrigerator.

He opened the door, licking his lips, eager for something wholly unhealthy and equally delicious. He expected to see Oreo’s (which were definitely better cold), or Cheese Sticks, or leftover pizza, or hell, he’d even settle for some chocolate syrup.

But it was empty. Completely empty. The lettuce was gone. They were even out of goddamn soy sauce!

Fucking hell, Grif thought to himself. He had forgotten that the food had run out about a week ago, and he was always too lazy to go out and find more. His poor, neglected stomach rumbled. There were only so many times one could eat those blue Meth-meth shrooms, after all.

So, instead, Grif turned back down the hallway and began walking.

Walking.

Here was Dexter Grif. Alone. On a little paradise island. Without Sarge or Simmons or any of the fucking Blues here to ruin his life. He could be doing literally anything he wanted.

And he was walking? Fuck that.

But he guessed it calmed him down a little bit. It cleared his mind, and sort of made the dark corners in the base seem a little less dark. And besides, it gave him time to talk with his friend.

“So, I think I’ve figured out the secret to life,” Grif said as he walked out of the base and down toward the beach.

Simmons, keeping up step by step with him, rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, fatass. The secret to life is Twinkies.”

Grif considered this.

“I guess those could come pretty close, with the sweet, sweet cream filling and spongy exterior…” he close his eyes briefly, imagining it. He could almost taste the calories. “Yeah… I’m gonna call those a close second.” He opened his eyes and shook his head. “But no. The secret to life is…” He trailed off, hesitant to say it out loud.

“The suspense is killing me,” Simmons interjected sarcastically.

“I’m pausing for dramatic effect.”

Simmons sighed. “Please, just tell me. I’m dying to know.”

“Alright, here goes. It’s… perspective.”

“Perspective.” Simmons quieted for a moment, considering it for a second. “Explain.”

“Think about it. For years, we’ve been in life-threatening situations, fighting enhanced super-soldiers, or robotically fucked up A.I.’s. We’ve thrown ourselves into the middle of bullshit wars, gotten dragged along on the Blue’s stupid drama throw-downs, and it was the most important thing in the world to us.”

“So…?”

“But look back on it. We’ve been to the very edge of colonized space and back, and I’ve seen it all. It’s all so fucking enormous… There’s so many planets and people and lives and stories and drama. Put into perspective, we… we really haven’t done jack-shit.”

“That’s not true!” Simmons protested. “Stopping the war on Chorus, we’ve saved lives! Stopping the director--”

“We didn’t stop the Director, Carolina handed him a pistol and told him to go fuck himself! And Chorus… well, you heard what Locus and Felix said. It’s just one meaningless planet in a universe of millions and millions of meaningless planets.”

They were quiet. Grif realized that he had stopped walking, caught up in the heat of the moment. He had sunk slightly in the sand, and the waves crept up slowly around his bare feet, sparkling in the bright moonlight. Wind ruffled his hair.

“You don’t mean that,” Simmons said softly. Grif sighed.

“Don’t I?” He could barely bring himself to meet Simmons’ reproachful gaze. The look of disappointment, of pity. The look Grif saw on his face the day they left, and he stayed. The look that screams ‘you’re better than this!’ But he really wasn’t.

“You’re not even real,” Grif muttered, waving his hand, and Simmons disappeared.

He was alone again.

DAY 24 SINCE THOSE ASSHATS LEFT GRIF ALONE ON AN UNINHABITED MOON

Grif hadn’t been talking lately. What was the point? There wasn’t anyone to talk to anyways.

Simmons hadn’t returned since that night, good riddance. Grif didn’t think he could bear to see that look on his face one more time, at least not in person. The look was still etched in his mind, seared into his memories. It ached constantly, a reminder.

Grif shut Simmons’ door last night, and locked it from the inside. The graffiti wasn’t funny anymore.

On the bright side, though, Grif managed to find more food. He’d finally reached the point where he was so desperate for anything that didn’t send him on one hell of an acid trip he raided Blue base for some rope. He collected some leaves and branches too, and sat himself down on a rock for an hour, teaching himself how to make traps.

It wasn’t too hard, he learned eventually, and it was actually an ideal way to hunt. You literally set something down on the ground, and wait for the food to come to you. It was almost too good to be true.

But he soon found out the equalizer the first time he caught a rabbit in his trap.

He watched the creature struggle in vain, it’s limbs flailing helplessly. He stared into its beady, desperate little eyes. He watched as the little creature never stopped trying to escape from its predator in its lost and hopeless battle, and Grif, sickly, felt a little bit of what Locus must have felt when he stalked his prey.

Perspective, Grif thought glumly, then let the rabbit go.

He decided to try his luck at fishing.

He still managed to find other ways to avoid work: he dug a roomba out of the Blue’s basement so it could vacuum up the crumbs that Grif spilled (he never really cared about that before, but it attracted ants, which then stole bits of his other food--and he needed that, desperately), and found some fire-starters to cook the fish with. He burned the books from Wash’s bookshelf instead of gathering sticks (he figured that if the guy ever came back, he would have been through enough shit to not worry about a few lost books too much).

But the obstacle he often ran into was heat.

Sure, the fire-starters started the fire (duh), and, sure, the books kept it going. But it never burned long enough or hot enough for the fish to cook decently.

He needed some sort of fuel, some kind of accelerant, something to make the flames bigger. He racked his mind. They had run out of gasoline ages ago, since Sarge used it all in his stupid war against gravity, and Grif drank all the cooking grease once they ran out of soda. No, he needed something different. Something like… something like… something like…

Perfume.

After much debating, Grif decided to raid Donut’s room that night. The main detractor was, of course, whether or not he could handle seeing whatever pink and lacey monstrosity was in Donut’s room. It was very likely filled with various cleaning products, and nice-smelling chemicals and pretty things.

The very thought disgusted him.

But his need for properly cooked fish out-weighed his apprehension, and, besides, who knows? Maybe Donut’s hiding some spices or shit in his room.

So that was how he found himself standing outside the room of the mildly-frightening, pink, frivolous member of Red team, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob.

He hesitated for a second. Do I really want to do this? he thought. But his stomach rumbled.

He opened the door.

Immediately, bright, flashing lights blinded his eyes, and the scent of grapefruit and vanilla cream overwhelmed him. Grif rocked on his feet as a wave of sensory overload hit him, making him double over with nausea. Lace poured from the ceiling, and the clouds of smells clogged his airway, choking him. Grif gasped and coughed and sputtered, covering his eyes, his mouth, his nose, and he began to feel all his organs beginning to shut down, one by one, as all things pink weaseled its way into every pore, every orifice, taking over Grif’s body and mind--

Okay, it wasn’t really that bad.

Actually, the room was fairly mildly decorated compared to what Grif expected. The walls were a soft shade of coral, accented with neat, white trim. The room was tidy, too-- Simmons would have been impressed-- and a few smartly placed candles sat nicely by the coral-pink bed.

Sure, the room smelled more than slightly of grapefruit and vanilla, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It was actually��� kind of relaxing.

Of course, Grif will never admit that. To anyone.

He cautiously walked into the room and made his way straight to the vanity. Perfumes and little bottles of lotion were arranged neatly by both size and color (again, Simmons would be proud), and Grif peered at them. He wondered which one, if any, would work the best. His hand hovered a smaller bottle, then over a large one, then one with an amber liquid, then one with a lilac liquid. There were too many to choose from…

In his indecision, his eyes strayed over to the other side of the desk, where a picture frame sat.

The picture frame was probably the most normal thing in the room, not outfitted with bows or lace or pink decorations, and Grif was surprised he didn’t notice it earlier. It was simple and brown, and though it had a ragged design, he got the feeling it had more heart behind it than anything else.

Grif picked it up and looked closer. Inside the wooden box was a picture of them-- of the Reds and Blues and Wash and Carolina and the Trainees-- all on Chorus. It was clearly a candid photo; in the foreground was Simmons, both clearly startled by the picture being taken and the close proximity of Jensen in all her braces and freckles and pimply teenager glory. Sarge was gruff, his arms folded over his chest and glaring at the camera (but there was a twinkle in his eye). Tucker was arguing with Palomo in the background, while Wash stood a little farther away, eyeing the two of them apprehensively. Grif saw himself sitting on the floor next to Bitters sharing, sharing, a candy bar. Caboose pranced about happily in the background, while Carolina was mid-eyeroll. Kimball and Doyle stood neatly in the background (a little farther apart than necessary), and in front of it all, grinning widely and throwing up a peace sign, was Donut.

Grif could barely remember Donut’s face, but he was pretty sure that was the happiest he had ever seen the guy (and that's saying something).

He set the picture down gently on the vanity again after dusted off the glass. Sunlight bounced off the gleaming frame, scattering particles of light onto the wall behind him, the vanity, and, oddly, a small bottle of orange Chance perfume as if were a spotlight. Or possibly a big arrow saying “this one here!”  

Grif grabbed it and got the hell out of the room.

He hurried downstairs and out onto the lawn where his firepit was set up. His fish were still set out on a clean rock, though he did have to chase off a fly or two. Grif tossed in a few of Wash’s books and pulled out his fire starter. Within seconds, the fire had started and caught, but it still wasn’t as high as Grif needed it to be. He pulled out the tiny bottle.

He unscrewed the top and held it over the fire, hesitating. Would this work? Fire was never something Grif was particularly experienced with. He didn’t want to accidentally burn off his eyebrows or something else important.

He sighed and began to tip the bottle. At the very least, maybe the fish would smell good.

Immediately, the flames caught the liquid and lept into the air. Grif stepped back quickly, startled by the loud woosh the flames gave off as it grew. But the fire continued to stay hot, high and controlled. Grif studied the bottle in his hands. The perfume had worked perfectly.

“Good choice,” Donut said, sitting on the log next to him. Grif glanced at him and began to skewer the fish onto sticks.

“You helped,” he muttered, placing on over the flames. His voice was a little raspy from being unused. Donut beamed.

“You got my message!” Grif sighed.

“Could you have made it any less dramatic?”

Donut shrugged good-naturedly. “A little flair for the dramatic is good for the soul.”

“Says the hallucination.” Grif didn’t look at Donut when he said that, but he knew, just knew, the guy was pouting.

“I’m as real as you want me to be.”

Grif didn’t respond to that, only sat by the fire, turning the fish over and over again. His method was a little slow, but it brought out the juices in the meat. Grif learned that by trial and error, after many dry and undercooked fishes. Though he’d have to change his technique a little with the new heat.

“So,” Donut started again. “You’re learning to cook.”

“If this is cooking,” Grif snorted, gesturing to his setup.

“Well, what else would it be?”

“I don’t know.”

Conversation with the pink guy never came easily to Grif. They were just too different, and unless they were both teasing Simmons, or Grif was yelling at Donut to quit hanging up lace in his room, they never really talked. Not like he and Simmons did.

“Grif? You know you can  always spill your load on me, right?” Grif rolled his eyes. Donut sat straight up, eagerly and sincerely. “I’m serious! I’ll listen to whatever you say. What’s going on?”

Grif didn’t respond for several minutes, focusing instead on the fish. But Donut sat perfectly straight the whole time, his young and honest eyes boring a hole on the back of Grif’s skull.

He sighed.

“Look, I’m just… I…” He hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“I miss you guys,” he blurted out, immediately turning away. Donut didn’t reply, only sat there. Watching.

“It’s been… it’s been so hard by myself. I mean, at first it was awesome. I got to sleep all day and watch TV and eat all the food. There wasn’t any Sarge or Simmons or… or you. No Blues, no Church. Nobody to make my life hell. I finally got a break from it all, all that bullshit.”

Grif took a deep breath and shook his head.

“But now I can’t sleep and this is the most I’ve talked in a long time. I have to fucking hunt for my food. I’ve had fish for breakfast, lunch, dinner for nearly a week now, and I’m sick and tired of it! And…” He paused. “Well, it’s boring here. Like a repeat of Blood Gulch, except now I’m by myself.”

He caught his breath, shocked by the sudden avalanche of words that had come tumbling out of his mouth.

Donut blinked.  “Oh.”

“I miss you guys,” Grif repeated, and that sentence was so heavy he had to sit down on the log just to keep it from crushing him. He buried his head in his hands, and Donut scooted over to pat his shoulder comfortingly.

They sat on that log for what must have been minutes, or hours, or days, or years. The time that passed was non-existent, the breeze that fluttered past the two of them was endless and the night was eternal. It had been forever since they had left; it had been forever since he left them. How long had it been since Grif had someone to talk to? How long had it been since he last saw Simmons, his friend? His family?

It must have been forever.

“You know…” Donut started, breaking the silence. “We’re still here.”

Grif lifted his head slightly, and Donut reached over. He tapped a spot on Grif’s chest over where his heart was. “We’re still right here. We’ll never really be gone.”

“But…” Grif sniffed. “What if you di-- don’t come back?”

Donut laughed quietly. “Even then, we’ll still be with you. As long as you remember us. We’ll sit by the fire with you, we’ll talk with you, we’ll live with you. Just as long as you remember.”

Grif held on to Donut’s words, pulling them tightly to his chest. He pictured each of his friend’s faces, wrapping them in a little bundle and locking them in his heart. Each detail, each little mark, each little stray piece of hair, Grif etched into his mind. He’ll remember them. He goddamn better.

He sighed.

“I’ll tell you what,” Donut said. “You know that picture on my vanity? The one you found today? Why don’t you keep it. It’ll help.”

Grif nodded seriously. “Thank you, Donut.”

Donut laughed softly.

“Now who’s being dramatic?”

And then he was gone.

Grif went in later that night. He placed the empty bottle of perfume on the vanity, and picked up the picture frame. He took one last look into the horrifying, pink room, and smiled before he closed the door, locking it forever.

DAY 32 SINCE HIS FRIENDS BETRAYED HIM

“Grif!”

The scream was loud, long, painful. It grated on Grif’s ears, and stung his throat. Dust covered his eyes, sucking out any moisture. Grif wanted to call back, but his voice was stuck, it wasn’t working. His limbs ached with incredible pain, like he was being ripped apart. A gun was held tightly in his hands, but he couldn’t feel a thing.

“Grif…” The call was more of a whimper now, at his feet. The smell of gunpowder in the air, the taste of metal in his mouth. Someone had been shot.

Grif looked down, past the gun shaking in his hands, and at the body lying beneath him.

Maroon armor.

Simmons was curled up in pain on the ground, clutching at a gaping hole in his abdomen. He gasped and sputtered, while blood seeped through the cracks in his armor.

He blinked.

Pink armor.

Now it was Donut at his feet, it was Donut who was curled up in a ball, it was Donut who was dying, again, and the smell of blood was so strong, so strong.

He blinked.

Red armor.

Sarge.

And he wasn’t moving.

Grif shot up in his bed, sweat pouring down his back. He panted, shoulders and chest heaving, hands shaking. The dark was confining, but all Grif could do was sit there and listen to the voices calling his name over and over again.

He ran a hand through his hair once he could finally move and sighed.

He was cold.

He threw back his covers and left his room. The darkness was too small, so he made his way to the living room. There, he flicked on a lightswitch and dropped down on the couch.

Eager to distract his mind anyway he possibly could, Grif turned on the TV.

He flipped through channel after channel, from the news station (who watches that anymore?) to the sports station, to food network, to the comedy channel, and back to the beginning. He cycled again and again through the channels, but nothing was a good enough distraction for him.

Grif groaned. “Damn it…” he muttered aloud, tossing the useless remote to the floor and flopping back on the couch.

He covered his face with his hands and tried to remember just exactly how his life turned to shit.

It was smooth going for a while, as smooth as it could be. Just Grif and Kaikaina, fending for themselves on some rundown moon, living day by day, flying by the seat of their pants. Of course, there was always money troubles and Grif could distinctly remember sleeping in an abandoned warehouse for a while, so it wasn’t completely amazing. But back then, Grif didn’t need to worry about killing anyone, or aliens, or robots or a corporate conspiracy that went so far as to try to massacre an entire planet.

“It was so much simpler back then,” Grif muttered aloud, not fully aware of even saying it until he heard the response.

“Hmph. Tell me about it.”

Grif became aware of a presence next to him, and between the gruff voice and the stench of diesel, he didn’t have to guess who it was.

Grif rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about? Weren’t you just always in the military? You fought in the Great War, didn’t you? How is that easier?”

Sarge sighed. “Son, when you get to be my age--”

“Jesus christ, here we go,” Grif muttered.

“--you begin to believe you’ve learned everything there is to know. Back in the day, it was black and white. We were good. The Covenant was bad. We had to win, or die trying. Simple.”

Grif snorted. It didn’t sound so simple.

“But now…” Sarge said with a shake of his head. “Red vs. Blue, Blue vs. Red… it’s all the same. I was given a gun and told to fight. I put my faith in the Chain of Command! But it turns out it was all just a lie... It was all some big elaborate scheme cooked up by a couple of greedy scientists. I didn’t know what to think anymore… Without something to fight, there can’t be a Sarge.”

Grif was silent.

“Wow, Sarge. I guess I underestimated you. I never knew you could be so… heartfelt.”

Sarge, not about to insulted like that, cocked his shotgun. “And that’s why I declared war on Gravity! Our true enemy was right beneath our feet this whole time, and we never knew it! Oppressed, by ourselves! Where will the torment end?”

Grif sighed. There was the Sarge he knew.

“Whatever, Sarge. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

“Hah! I always knew you were a coward Grif!” “Hey!”

“I always knew you were a lazy, good-for-nothing--”

“Come on, man, you aren’t even real.”

“But this is too far! What in Sam Hell do you think you’re going to accomplish by just running away?!”

Grif snapped, whirling around and storming right up to him. “I am not running away!” Sarge glared down at him through his thick white beard. “You were the ones who ran away! AGAIN. You were the ones who went off on a stupid wild goose chase, the ones who aren’t gonna come back because for some goddamn reason you are all so bent on throwing away your goddamn lives for some asshole!” He was screaming, spittle flying everywhere, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he was so angry. “And you aren’t gonna come back ever, and it’s just gonna be me all by myself, stupid Grif alone on a stupid moon, stupid lazy Grif who can barely even feed himself--”

“Son.” The word, uncharacteristically firm and final, stopped Grif in his tracks. “Now you listen here. You aren’t gonna get anything done by pitying yourself like this!” Sarge’s voice was gradually rising, and with it, his presence was growing larger and larger until he was practically towering over Grif. “Stop this whining and get on with it! Boy, you ain’t gonna make it a minute like this. In my day--”

“Sarge?”

“In my day, we didn’t have the luxury of complaining! So you’ve only eaten fish, so what?! At least you have fish! In fact, I’ll be damned, you have a whole island full of food! So stop moping around for Eisenhower’s sake, and get off your ass. So you don’t like it? Change it! Because whether we come back or not, you can’t depend on us to save your sorry behind anymore. And I’m sure as hell not gonna come back to find my Private dead.”

It wasn’t until the silence hit for at least a good few minutes that Grif’s head stopped reeling.

“I’m technically a Captain now,” he said meekly. Sarge exhaled heavily and began to shrink down to a normal size.

“Does it really matter?” Sarge asked. He sat down on the couch. “There aren’t any ranks on this island. That’s why I couldn’t stay.”

“Because you need action?”

“Because I need purpose.”

It was funny. Only a few seconds ago, Sarge had been so extraordinarily large, literally and metaphorically, but now on the couch he looked so very small and tired. Grif sat down next to him.

“Purpose, huh.” He chewed on it for a second. “I don’t think I know what my purpose is anymore.”

Sarge turned to look at him. “No one does. That’s why you gotta make your own.”

So maybe that was why the Reds and the Blues left. Because on the moon, without someone to fight, someone to save, they felt as small as Sarge looked now. Because they were purposeless, so they needed to find something even if it was as ridiculous as saving Church yet again.

“Ehh, tell you what.” Sarge scratched the back of his neck, as if he were starting to realize how different he was acting. “I left my old hunter’s manual back in my room. It’ll teach you how to set up traps, or find nuts and berries you can eat. And maybe you could make up some maps, or keep track of animals or something. Just, you know. Something to do.”

Grif met his gaze appraisingly, and though he appreciated the kindness his old C.O. was showing him, he couldn’t resist a jab.

“You know that’s what the internet is for, right?”

Sarge hmphed. “Internet. The cheater’s tool! Maybe one of these days I’ll declare war on the internet too!”

“Good luck with that.”

Sarge’s room was about as military-like as he expected. A plain cot, an empty gun rack, a barrel which, Grif assumed, was used to hold ammunition. A packet of cigarettes sat on the desk, next to a small pistol and another object. Grif pocketed the cigarettes and picked up the book.

The hunter’s manual was old and leather-bound, filled with detailed pictures and descriptions, notes in painstaking cursive and more. It was worn, and some pages were falling out. Holding it, Grif could just barely picture a younger Sarge, trekking through the jungle with his shotgun, carefully tracking a deer. He flipped through the pages, pages covered in these illustrations all the way until he reached about two-thirds of the way through.

The rest was blank.

Grif’s stomach rumbled.

He snapped the book shut. Tucked away the pistol. Pulled out a cigarette.

And shut the door behind him.

DAY 56 SINCE THEY LEFT

The nightmares were getting worse every night.

And they were different every night, that was the thing. If they were the same over and over again, maybe Grif would have been able to brace himself for the images to come. Somehow, he could prepare himself, block out the screaming.

But it wasn’t always screaming.

Sometimes it was cursing as his teammates surrounded him in a circle of hatred, stabbing him with insults like they were knives, blaming him for their own deaths, blaming stupid, idiot, lazy Grif for screwing up again.

Sometimes it was cries as his friends and family were being slaughtered right in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do. Sometimes he was frozen. Lately, he’d been asleep. Again.

Tonight, it was silence.

Never before had he ever heard a silence so empty, so devoid of life and love and meaning, so dark, so… completely… quiet.

He stood alone on the hill overlooking their bases--on the moon--the Gulch--Chorus--Valhalla--as the sun set in front of him.

Waves washed silently on the shore--sand blew across the canyon--the beacon pulsed--the engine whirred--and he reached for the bases, the bases where his friends should have been, smiling or laughing or bickering and so, so alive.

But no one was there.

His own heartbeat throbbed in his ears, the bases flickered--GulchChorusValhallaMoon--and he opened his mouth to shout, to scream, to say anything at all, but he couldn’t even make a sound and all the while…

Silence.

Grif woke up for the nth time clutching at his sheets, drenched in cold sweat.

Light streamed through the cracks of the hammock in which he slept outside (the base was too empty for him to sleep at all) and he shielded his eyes as he slowly unfolded the fabric that surrounded him.

Sunrise never seemed fresher than this cool morning on the moon, as the breeze glided through the rustling trees. The air never smelled cleaner; the salty smell of the ocean, crisper.

He stepped out of the hammock, carefully watching his footing. His armor was strewn on the ground before him, bright against the green grass which had regrown since the RedBlues last set the bases on fire.

An alien creature, a mix between a bird and a dog, lay curled next to the pieces, soaking up the newly-risen sun. Grif had found him one day while hunting, and in the midst of a bout of loneliness, decided to keep him as a pet. He still couldn’t think up a name for him, though he toyed with naming it Simmons just to see the look on his face if he got back, so he just called it ‘it’ or ‘you’ or ‘pet’ or really any word that would indicate he was talking to the half-dog.

His rifle leaned up against the tree next to Pet. Grif, needed to fill his days somehow, had created a routine of cleaning it every morning it.

Cleaning it. Grif. In a routine.

Yeah, the Redblues were sure to get a kick out of that if they came back.

He wasn’t really sure when he stopped saying ‘when’ and started saying ‘if’, but now his life had more important things to do.

“Come on Grif, come on, come on, get up,” he muttered as he fell out of the hammock. He had changed much on his time alone here. His hair now unfurled down to his shoulders. He’s got the stubble of facial that desperately wants to grow in, but doesn’t have the genetics to back it up. He’s considerably leaner and tanner, hunting for food just to eat every day would do that to a person. His body looked like almost a new person.

His mind hasn’t escaped unharmed either.

“Busy today. Busy busy busy. Busy as a bee. Bzzzz. Buzzy bee-body. Busy buzzy beezy bodies.” His armor took exactly sixty-point-zero-two seconds to put on. He knows, he counted every one. His record was forty-five-point-five seconds. “Bees buzz. Flies buzz. No, flies fly. Busy bee bodies busy and fifty flies fly far...far… far away.”

To be fair, there really wasn’t much else to do but talk now.

“Come on, come on, come on, Pet.” He gently pushed the half-dog up. “Lots to do today. Lots and lots and lots of stuff do to.”

They trudged through the wilderness, today like every other day: him gripping his rifle, Pet plodding alongside him. They went through one by one and methodically checked the traps.

Still empty, a relief. Grif had long since forced himself to start eating the small creatures caught in the traps, but he still hated seeing the creature struggle like it did. It still sickened him. But beggars can’t be choosers.

“Nah, who can choose?” Grif laughed as he brushed the leaves back over the rope on the ground. “Cheaters. Cheaters can choose. I’m not a cheater. I’m Grif. I’m not a coward. Well, not all the time. Right Sarge? I’m not a coward all the time. I’m just doin’ my purpose, y’know? Just my purpose.”

“What is your purpose, Grif?” Carolina asked as she stepped quietly next to him.

“Oh hey, Carolina,” he greeted cheerily. He liked Carolina. Cool Carolina. Not-a-coward Carolina. She made him feel strong. “Today it’s to get this damn deer to stop eating my garden.”

“And tomorrow?” Silly Carolina. She’d always do this. Always try to make him think about tomorrow, the tomorrow that might be sad, the tomorrow that didn’t matter to him right now.

“Nah, just today,” he said to her.

“Grif,” she pressed. Together they crouched down behind a bush. “You need to start thinking about a tomorrow.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why do I have to? Why does tomorrow even matter?”

Carolina frowned. “How could it not? Don’t you want to get off of this moon? DOn’t you want to see your friends again?”

“My friends?”

“The Reds and the Blues.”

“Oh. Right.” In the distance, a creature raised its head. Grif shifted slowly to get a better view. “Nah. They’ll come back. I just have to wait.”

“Grif…” He heard her sigh behind him. “What if waiting doesn’t work? What if they’re in trouble and they need you save them?”

He mulled that over, then waved it off. “They’re the Redblues. They’ll be fine. They’ll come back. They’ll come back for me.”

“What happens when they don’t--”

“If!” With sudden force, Grif whirled around. Carolina leaned back in surprise. “It’s ‘if’ now, don’t you know?! If they don’t come back! If they do! ‘If’!”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean--”

Grif slammed his rifle down angrily, and the deer in the distance, spooked, sprinted away. “Because I see them! In my dreams! They’re sad and hurting and if they don’t come back, then I’ll know the dreams are true and I did nothing! I stayed behind! Like a coward!”

“Grif,” Carolina said, placing her hand on his. “It wouldn’t be your fault. You did what you thought was right--that doesn’t make you a coward.”

He sniffed. “Yes it does.”

“No, it doesn’t. You know why? Because every night you face the darkest dreams and your deepest fears. Anyone else would have gone insane by now, but you face the worst possible outcomes every night. That doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you the opposite.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Carolina… I miss them. But I’m scared to see them again.”

“The Reds and the Blues are your friends,” she told him firmly. Carolina knew what he meant. “Whether they come back or not, they’ll will always love you. Love you. Do you get that?”

No they won’t, Grif thought, but he couldn’t say that to Carolina. Simmons won’t. He won’t forgive me. He couldn’t bear to think of a tomorrow in which Simmons didn’t forgive him. He couldn’t bear to think of a tomorrow in which Simmons didn’t come back.

“I just…” he sniveled. “I just wish I could say sorry to him.”

“Take a deep breath,” Carolina soothed. “And I’ll tell you what. I don’t have something from my room to give you, but I think I saw some volleyballs in the garage.”

Grif looked up at her, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you can use them to practice saying sorry. You know, for if they come back. You can make things up with Simmons.”

He nodded. “I do miss him a lot too.”

“Alright then, it’s settled.” She stood up and dusted herself off. “I’ll show you where they are.”

In the end, he still got to go in Carolina’s room.

It was pretty and neat. Nothing personal. Just a couple of dog tags resting on a letter from Kimball on the nightstand. The clothes and other objects (typically running gear, that was what she did now) she didn’t take with her were folded neatly in the closet.

But the dresser was different story.

Her dresser was littered with half-full paint tubes and brushes and crayons and markers and pastels and all different art supplies. Paint stains covered the smooth wood finish, and the drawers were crammed shut with papers of all colors and sizes.

Grif took some glittery gold paper and red paints of varying colors and retreated out of the room.

“Thanks for letting me use these,” he said to her, his eager hands clutched with the supplies. “You’re cool, Carolina. I wished I talked to you more before you left. You aren’t that scary after all.”

She laughed, a nice sound, a pretty sound. “Any time. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get another chance soon.”

He smiled and reached for the doorknob, but she stopped him quickly.

“Are you sure? I’m the last one. I won’t be there to talk to you after nightmares anymore.”

“I know,” Grif said. “But I’m not a coward. I think it’s time I take those on myself.”

She frowned then, when she was supposed to smile, supposed to be supportive for him. “You know… you don’t have to take them on all alone.”

“I’m already alone,” he replied, surprising himself a little. “But I’m done talking to ghosts now.” He gestured to the paints. “I’m ready to write the script now.”

Carolina nodded with cool respect in her eyes. Sometimes he didn’t remember that Carolina, cool, nice Carolina used to be a hardass Freelancer. Now, however, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten.

She stepped back and saluted formally. “Good luck, Captain Grif. Make yourself a better tomorrow. And… when I get back, stop by once or twice, okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.” He saluted back.

And shut the door.

DAY ZERO

“Listen Simmons. Shhhh, I got… some things to say. To you. Some things I’ve gotta get off my chest buddy. Buddy? Nah, not buddy. Stupid. Friend? Friend. Fr--no, definitely friend. Anyway, I’ve had a bit of time to think about some things. Lots of time actually. Oodles of time. Oodles of buckets of times of time. Tempo de mucho! Mucho de tempo! Now, listen Simmons. Simmmmmons. Sim--Sim--Cinnamon--ah! Focus Grif!

“Now things ended really bad out there, buddy--no, friend!--and I’ve been thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. I need to tell you that I am super duper, I am so incredibly--”

[grad503-mathewhocking]

PUBLICATION RESEARCH

Before I start creating my own publication, I looked at the works of other designers to seek some inspiration and guidance. There is plenty of content out there, so I wanted to make sure I was taking the time to find work that would help inform my own decisions and further speak to the style of my designer. I looked at publications which used serif fonts, grid layouts, photography rather than illustration, and simple colors.

Various Objects

This publication explores the ethos of objects that have been inspired by modernism. It uses only 3 colors, with red being applied to full pages, rather than as smaller accents which I think is very effective. I like the way text is used to create borders around products and I think overall there are some really great techniques used with the typography such as the negative space created by the placement of text. The treatment of black and white photographs keeps the publication consistent and bold. It’s clean, legible and easy to follow, which is something I hope to master during this process.

How to Survive a Pandemic - Self-Care Tips from 2020

This publication was created by New York art director and designer Anjela Freyja. I came across this work through the Adobe Live channel on YouTube where Anjela gives a step-by-step tutorial on how to design a print-ready book using InDesign and Photoshop. Although it’s quite loud compared to what I would like to create, it was super interesting to watch this video and see how a professional uses just 2 typefaces and a few photographs to produce something special. What I really like about this is the pops of red and green, the use of photography where each photograph compliments the text it sits amongst, and the shapes used to break up the sharpness of everything. I’m mostly inspired by the typographic treatment and the clever use of imagery.

Inevitable Distances

This publication is an exhibition catalogue for Renée Green, by Carolina Aboarrage, an art director and graphic designer from the Netherlands. It complies a collection of images, essays and ephemera selected by the artist. What I really like about this is the minimal colour pallette and interesting typography techniques. It feels very formal but I think there is a nice balance of playfulness too. The 4th image features a page of text which plays by a very different set of rules and is something I’ve not seen a lot of. It almost has quite a DIY/paste-up feel to it which I enjoy. I would like to explore some fun ways to use type and this has definitely helped foster some ideas.

A Type Book Abt Type In Book

This publication is a collection of essays on typography styles, movements and ideologies from the designers of the Master of Communication Design at RMIT Melbourne, Australia. The overall typographic treatment in this publication is just really fun. I think the use of only black and white was a smart idea and compliments the imagery well. The placement of imagery is interesting as a few photographs have a slight tilt to them which is probably not something I will experiment with but is one of the features I enjoy.

Vizuelna Kultura Publication

This publication focuses on the International Typographic Style and some of its pioneers, including Emil Ruder, so it’s very close to my topic for this project. I think everything about this publication speaks to what Swiss style is. It’s clean, legible, uses photography rather than illustration, and operates within a grid system. I like the use of language translation on some pages and, on the index page, the mirror effect on the typography is quite cool. The big page numbers and visible grid lines are also really great features. On the last page, the placement of photography is smart and I will definitely look into doing something similar for my publication.

[agentkentuckypresents-blog]

(agentkentucky)

Coloring Outside the Lines Episode 1: Making Machinima and the New Media Maze

~LISTEN ALONG~

WARNING: Volume Down. This one compressed pretty loudly this time around. 

Transcript (with pictures! Most effective when paired with hitting play):

Hi everyone, my name is Erin Christopher aka Agent Kentucky, and you are listening to, “Agent Kentucky Presents: Coloring Outside the Lines: RWBY, Red vs. Blue, and the Rise of the New Media Community”. This four-week blogcast is being completed as a course requirement for my new media class at Florida State University and will use the creation and dissemination of the Rooster Teeth brand as a case study in the formation of new media communities and the impact of digital storytelling. Now, I feel like there was some jargon there, so I’m going to back it up a minute and talk about what new media is, why I’ve chosen to study this company, who I am as a host in relation to the topic, and then we’ll get into the focus of this week’s blogcast, which is making machinima and the new media maze. So, if you can’t tell, I’m a pretty big fan of wordplay and alliteration, sometimes it comes unconsciously so keep an ear out.

Anyway, if you’re not familiar with what Red versus Blue is, I’ll be explaining more in a little bit, but it’s best known as the longest-running episodic web series ever. Still, if you’ve never seen it, you might be wondering why I’ve chosen “Agent Kentucky Presents” as the title of a blogcast with a focus on Red vs Blue. So first of all I’m from Kentucky, and while yes I can do the stereotypical Kentucky accent, I will not be using it in this blogcast because I figure I grew up in Kentucky, this is my voice, this is a brand of a Kentucky accent. Don’t want to do anything disingenuous, here. But moving on, in Red vs Blue, the Rooster Teeth series that launched the whole company, there are 49 Agents called “The Freelancers”, who are named after US states, so you have Agent Texas, Agent Washington, Agent Carolina, but as it stands Agent Kentucky is still out there adventuring and has not yet shown up. So I figure, for my little blogcast, I’ll be the Agent Kentucky’s stand-in until the real Agent Kentucky makes their debut on Red vs. Blue—and, maybe they’ll have the stereotypical Kentucky accent.

Caption: Say hello to the Freelancers! None of these cool kids are Red or Blue, but stand-in Agent Kentucky is goin’ rogue on the Blue Team (Go Cats?)

Moving on, I think I should explain what I mean by a new media case study before we jump too deep into this. So, within this field of new media studies—which is still really getting its footing in the larger academic world—we’re going to be looking primarily at these new ways stories and information are distributed via the Internet. Kind of delving in deeper into this rise of the web series that we really see coming to a bit of an apex today with the popularity and convenience of streaming, also YouTubers and the social media influencers. New media also encompasses things like the web comic, the visual novel, the listicle, the podcast, the fiction podcast—which has actually been my primary area of research for the past six months I’ve been doing my senior thesis, but the thing is we’d be here forever if I named off everything that counts as new media because it’s always growing and always changing, which makes it challenging to keep up with trends and shifts, but provides for a lot of diversity of material.

So, all research starts out with a core question, even though I’m going to be talking about a lot of different things regarding new media here in this blogcast, but my question I really want to focus on is about community and these web series. So RvB, RWBY, really anything that Rooster Teeth is putting out, you have gen:LOCK coming in January, which is this huge exciting new scifi series helmed by RWBY’s director Gray Haddock and Black Panther’s Michael B. Jordan, probably a more familiar name if you’re not familiar with RT’s stuff, but the point is part of this company’s success has grown out of a backbone of community. 

Caption: Michael B. Jordan is back to snap some retainers (and pilot some bad*ss mechs) as the voice of Julian Chase, protagonist of the upcoming Rooster Teeth Animation series gen:LOCK

And I’m not just talking about audience—for the record, I will be referring to community and audience as totally different things. So you can watch something and never think about it again, hardly talk to anybody about it, it goes out of your mind—but you were still part of the audience. You consumed that commodity. Community, on the other hand, implies further engagement, it implies connection with other audience members, sometimes this brings about the production of transformative works, so we’re talking fanart, that sort of thing. All of this long explication here brings me to my central research question which is, “How is the niche web series a catalyst of community unbounded by geography?” So that rhymes a little but it’s still kind of jargon-y, so I am essentially asking here, what is it about web series like RvB that brings people together so passionately? And obviously, you have a lot of discussions like this going on right now about modern fandom, kind of concerning things on mainstream platforms, by mainstream studios, but I think there’s a personal element here when we’re talking about indie content, especially indie web content, that facilitates the development of a different kind of consumer community—there really are tons of these out there now, but I want to focus on the RT community specifically given their time frame, how they really were ahead of their time on these things. So, kind of presenting a thesis for my question here, I think niche has a lot to do with this development of community by the web series—you’re getting people engaging in conversations who have more specific intersections of interests, I also think creator-community connection has a lot to do with it which is really bridged through social media nowadays, and that’s kind of what we’re going to be exploring here through these four episodes.

Caption: The spectrum of Red vs. Blue Heroes

Which, nature of research, one question leads to another, why focus on these series specifically? For the most part, we’re going to be talking about Red vs Blue but later we’ll touch on RWBY, which if you’re not following along in the blog is spelled R-W-B-Y, it stands for the main characters’ names and the colors they’re associated with, and I’m not just doing this because it lets me make a cheeky little title about coloring outside the lines, but these series really have made a profound impact on the landscape of digital storytelling and what we think about when we produce visual entertainment for the Internet. And going off that, the ways in which these stories have brought so many people together. I think one of the reasons I really latched onto what this company does, especially after watching their fifteenth anniversary documentary Why We’re Here, which is also the title of the first episode of Red vs Blue, is because my own mission as a storyteller, as a screenwriter, a novelist is to write things that bring people together. Things people can talk about, make friends through. I’ve made of my some of my dearest long-distance friends over the years over just nerding out about stuff, so what I’m really curious about is what makes these niche series so powerful as a connective tissue among geographically disparate people.

Caption: Community comes together at the 2017 Rooster Teeth Expo (RTX) in Austin, Texas

So quick history lesson, in 2003, two years before the advent of YouTube, which has essentially become our society’s video hosting and consumption crutch, we see the birth of Red vs Blue, and subsequently the group that will become the founders of currently Austin, TX based Rooster Teeth Productions. Now with 16 seasons and 5 spinoff miniseries under its belt, Red vs Blue was created originally using playable characters in the shooter video game HALO, which was then overdubbed with comedic voice acting and released on Rooster Teeth founder Burnie Burns’ website, drunkgamers.com, where he and his friends, as the title suggests, would do the equivalent of Drunk History, but for video game reviews. The first official episode was released on April 1st, 2003, and the series actually found itself as part of a larger new media content movement called machinima, which was essentially the art of making movies out of video gameplay. Red vs Blue however has become probably the best-known example of this new media genre, having ballooned into the internet smash hit that it is today.

Not to say that there weren’t bumps in the road, however. After RvB started drumming up serious views, the crew got into some pretty hot water with Microsoft because, obviously, HALO was protected under their copyright. However, due to RvB’s massive success and the hordes of new players it actually brought the HALO franchise, the team at Rooster Teeth was allowed to use HALO footage to make Red vs Blue completely free of royalties.

Anyway, so the first episode of RvB, after it premiered in April 2003—see, I rhymed again—essentially became a viral video before the term viral video even entered our vernacular. Okay, say that ten times fast. But really, by the third episode, things were really taking off and the team had started to realize they had struck on something pretty special here. Which brings me to discuss, “how does Red vs Blue even fit into this greater new media genre of machinima?” For the record, I’d never even heard of this genre, or knew that there was a special genre for the type of production Red vs Blue is, and the creators didn’t know it either at the time, so I don’t feel as bad about it as I could.

Caption: “What are YOU lookin’ at?”*

*Not the actual dialogue

Interestingly enough, there’s actually an Academy of Machinima of Arts and Sciences, that’s had its own film festival, awards show, and an expo convention that started in 2008. The first Machinima Film Festival and Awards were held in 2002, in which Anachronox: The Movie, a short film created using the 3D role-playing game Anachronox, took home best picture. A year later, the prize went to Red vs Blue: The Blood Gulch Chronicles. The first ever machinima films, however, were created around 1996 using the video game Quake. And similarly to Rooster Teeth, you had teams of producers—two of the big ones were called The Rangers and the Undead Clan, who created these early machinima films and distributed them via the Internet.

Now, even though it’s made using an action shooter game, Red vs Blue really isn’t all that much about the fighting—although there definitely is some, it’s certainly not like what you’re going to find in say, RWBY, where you’ve got these super crazy fight scenes and characters whipping out convertible weapons and all that. Rather, Red vs Blue is more about what happens in these humorous conversations among soldiers, and I think that’s one of the big appeals of it. So many times, content is focused on the action, kind of one of the fundamentals of structuring a plot is asking “is this important to the story? Is this important to the characters?” but Red vs Blue endeavors to make the non-fighting, the cracking jokes and dry humor, the focus, that’s the important stuff. There’s actually academic literature out there on RvB as a piece containing anti-war sentiment, I have it linked in the sources if you wanna check it out.

However, I also think RvB has a big appeal due to the interactive nature of the content, starting with its creation and continuing on into its distribution and consumption. So in an academic article on the art of machinima, Dr. Henry Lowood, who is a curator of science and technology history in the libraries at Stanford University, discusses this idea of the player—that is the player of a given video game—as a performer. Which, you know, machinima—the players become the animators, the modelers, the voice actors, but Lowood argues that this is inherent to video games, that the video game experience actually has laid the psychological groundwork for machinima to arise as a form of new media storytelling. So, when you’re playing a video game, especially an RPG, you are, for the most part, in control, you have to literally be inside your character’s head, making decisions for them. That’s why, when games are talked about or reviewed, you’ll see the word “immersive” thrown around a lot, and that’s because so many times when you’re playing video games you are placed into the psychological position of your playable character. According to Lowood, that makes you an actor. 

Caption: A table read of Red vs. Blue Season 10. 

So, of course, machinima producers like the Rooster Teeth founders go the extra mile here, doing voice acting over staged video gameplay, but the point, according to Lowood, is that impetus to create is already there just through the act of playing a video game. So, if we’re looking at RvB’s production as something that amplifies player-game interaction into this new dimension, is it so much of a stretch to claim that that interactive nature is actually directly reflected in the creation of the Rooster Teeth community? Of course, the founders talk about in the documentary how the community forums were created so the fans could really just entertain each other while there were lulls in releasing content, but you also saw the founders having day-to-day engagements with their fans, sort of befriending them, they ended up actually hiring a bunch of their early fans like Gavin Free, Barbara Dunkelman, and Miles Luna who are now trademark company personalities, so you wonder if interactive was just kind of always in the blueprint, and of course carries on into the company mission today.

Finally, I really think that they’ve capitalized—as so many online content creators have—on the simple fact that people process information via narrative. Really, when you break it down, new media studies as a whole is kind of the study of how stories are connecting people. Via the internet, digitally. I mean really that’s intrinsic to the core of humanities, this idea of stories connecting people. All this to say, of course, that this concept of interactive creation, of including the consumer in the narrative, is kind of what it takes to lay the seeds of such a well-connected consumer community.

So, next episode I am going to dive deeper into this creation of community and I would really love to do a Q and A, maybe an interview, so if you’re part of the Rooster Teeth community and don’t mind me reading off your answers to a couple of questions, or if you want to ask me questions regarding this and my research on it, my ask box is open you just can’t send me anonymous messages—so don’t be shy, I only do that for my own safety and security, and you can always request that I not give away your URL when I do the Q and A. Anyway, thanks for tuning in, and we’ll be back with another episode next Friday.

~Peace out, and check out the bibliography under the cut.

AKY

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Lowood, Henry. “Real-Time Performance: Machinima and Game Studies”. Journal of Media Practice, vol. 2, no. 1, 2006, pp.10-17. https://web.archive.org/web/20060101161233/http://www.idmaa.org/journal/pdf/iDMAa_Journal_Vol_2_No_1_screen.pdf . Accessed 14 September, 2018.

Ott, J. “Academy of Machinima Arts and Sciences”. Making the Movie, 7 Aug. 2005, http://makingthemovie.info/2005/08/academy-of-machinima-arts-sciences.html . Accessed 14 September, 2018. 

Starrs, D. Bruno. "Reverbing: The 'Red vs. Blue' machinima as anti-war film", 'Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies', NY, London: Routledge, 24.2, 2010, pp. 265–277.

Thompson, Clive. “The Xbox Auteurs.” The New York Times Magazine, 7 Aug. 2005, https://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/07/magazine/the-xbox-auteurs.html. Accessed 14 September, 2018.

Why We’re Here. Directed by Mat Hames, Rooster Teeth, 2018.

[filmstruck]

Two Texas Movies That’ll Talk the Ears Off a Mule by Nathaniel Thompson

One thing you get attuned to growing up in the South is an ear for accents, which also means that when you hear a bad Southern accent in a film, it’s like hearing someone raking their nails on a chalkboard. That also makes you even more grateful when movies manage to get it right, and one state that’s had much better luck over the years than usual in Texas. While actors almost always struggle and usually fail trying to capture the twang of someone from Georgia, Alabama or the Carolinas, characters from Texas tend to be more convincing thanks to the combination of traditional Southern drawl and cowboy swagger that can switch from arrogance to vulnerability in the blink of an eye. It’s an actor’s dream, and you can find some fine examples in the current “Deep in the Heart of Texas” spotlight on FilmStruck featuring a wide array of cinematic snapshots of the Lone Star state.

Hollywood has had a long-running love affair with Texas stories for decades, but the first really modern look at what it’s like growing up in a small town there arrived with Peter Bogdanovich’s THE LAST PICTURE SHOW (’71), arguably the definitive Texas film for reasons numerous enough to fill books (which they have) and a great American coming-of-age story to boot. The film’s influence has extended through many subsequent films about the twilight period of adolescence, with its candid sexuality and sad-eyed outlook often emphasized by critics over its welcome adherence to that prime Texas quality, the gift of gab. The way characters talk in this film is just as important and naturalistic as what Robert Altman was doing around the same time, and though this one doesn’t get the same amount of credit in that regard, it’s a clear influence on two ‘90s films you’ll find pair up with that classic quite nicely if you’re up for some FilmStruck binging.

No single director has made the most of Texas locations as spectacularly and consistently as Richard Linklater, who’s turned out a string of modern classics set all over the state including DAZED AND CONFUSED (’93), BOYHOOD (’14), EVERYBODY WANTS SOME!! (’16), and my personal pick as his most underrated masterpiece, BERNIE (’11), which opens with a quick primer for the ages covering the major territories of Texas. You can find the basis for all of those films with Linklater’s very first legitimately released feature film, SLACKER (’91), which is available for streaming right now and should be part of anyone’s basic ‘90s cinema education. It’s the ultimate Texas yakking film as it tosses any kind of traditional storyline out the window; instead we meet a succession of Austin, Texas residents who mainly represent the crazier side of Generation X a la Texas, pontificating on any number of topics including UFO and assassination conspiracies, financial woes, and pop culture, most memorably Madonna. In what may be a weird nod to Martin Scorsese’s role in TAXI DRIVER (’76), Linklater himself even turns up as a taxi cab passenger in the opening minutes running his mouth about a dream with “nothing going on at all” and how The Wizard of Oz serves as an example of how multiple realities exist. The cumulative effect is dizzying, surreal, morbid, and often hilarious, setting the template for Linklater’s more adventurous side that would turn up again in those BERNIE townspeople segments and his philosophical animated experiment WAKING LIFE (2001) as well as the frequently overlooked SUBURBIA (1996). Shot for peanuts on 16mm with a slew of real colorful Austin residents, it’s really ground zero for the city’s current reputation as the state’s premiere cinema haven and a quirky cultural oasis that has become a synonym for movie geek culture. Now, whether we’ve all really been on Mars since ’62 is a question that has yet to be answered…

I’d bet good money that the one film in this spotlight seen by the smallest amount of people has to be one of the most recent: DANCER, TEXAS POP. 81 (’98). This one proved to be a tough sell at a tricky time when little indies like this were getting crowded out, neither hitting the Miramax-ified art house crowd nor the slick big-budget studio product filling the rapidly accumulating multiplexes. That’s a shame as it’s a sweet little charmer of a film whose PG rating probably turned off any potential younger viewers hoping for something a little rowdier, and if it were made today it would probably go straight to streaming. So in a way it’s fitting you’ll probably find it for the first time here on FilmStruck, where its easygoing charms will be nice and easy to digest. This was part of a slew of late ‘90s teen films essentially throwing a lot of young actors in different combinations to recreate the brat pack magic of the prior decade. Some of them scored direct hits like the SCREAM sequels, AMERICAN PIE (’99) and CAN’T HARDLY WAIT, another 1998 film that shares three of this film’s stars, Peter Facinelli, Ethan Embry and Breckin Meyer. (The fourth star here, Eddie Mills, hasn’t been nearly as high profile.)

Technically it has more of a plot than SLACKER but not by much as it features a snapshot of four young men about to graduate from high school, first seen sitting in the middle of the road in foldout chairs under the blazing sun and pondering how to get the Rand McNally atlas to acknowledge their home’s existence. All of them are contemplating leaving the itty-bitty township—as they remark more than once, they first got tickets to go to California two years ago—but there’s also the value of nurturing the roots you’ve been setting up throughout your young life. Not surprisingly, some characters go through with the decision to move way while others have a different fate in store. Mostly though it’s a positive snapshot of male camaraderie without any artificial drama as we stop along the way for concerns like finding a job, enduring a bumbling mishap at church or just hanging out on a porch having a chat. It’s not the kind of thing some viewers will find gripping, but it’s a nice afternoon viewing choice and ultimately quite moving at the end if you let it work its subtle charms. Can’t say I’m a huge fan of the treacly score, but you can’t have everything.

A lot of credit for this film’s authenticity has to go to writer-director Tim McCanlies, making his directorial debut and using his knack for little details as a fifth-generation Texan to paint a vivid portrait of day-to-day small-town life. His second feature film, SECONDHAND LIONS (’03), returned to Texas to equally convincing effect, though in between he also wrote what would become one of the most acclaimed American animated films of the past two decades, THE IRON GIANT (’99). It’s a shame we haven’t heard from him in several years as he’s a voice worth hearing.