#Apple TV intern I owe you my life

[gaytedlasso]

Ted Lasso & Trent Crimm wedding

January 15th, 2024

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Now facing an internal battle between her heart and mind, Samantha faces her fears and searches for the truth. Will she accept the past? Will she listen to her heart? Or will she let her memories get the best of her?

Chapter 10 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Roach - A SurPRICE Visit

What is this o.O

The Heart knows what the Brain Doesn't

Samantha Coleman

141's High Value Individual

Task Force 141 Base - General Shepherd's Office

The base was quiet. Everyone else fled off to their mission and all Samantha could think about is Alex. But why? Maxine told her he wanted to meet him, but Alex told her it's because she dropped her pendant. Whose story is she going to believe in? She could feel her heart beat differently ever since she saw him with General Shepherd. Her whole body except for her brain reacted to his presence. She even felt weak after slapping him, it's like her brain commanded it but her hands wanted to disobey. Who is he?

Maxine passed by with an apple she got from the kitchen counter.

"Sam, you okay?" she asked, biting the fruit and sitting in the chair across from her.

"I've been thinking… about how you knew Alex and how she knows me…" she sighed, it was relieving to let out all her bottled thoughts, especially that now they're both alone.

"Well, we met in a bar. Had a few drinks then showed me a photo of you." she said, holding her hand.

"I honestly believed he did know you and tried to lengthen the conversation, just so I know he's good enough and knows a lot. He actually aced the test but he was very drunk when I told her to meet again. After that He showed up the next day and I had to work. Whatever happened after my shift was- ow." she interrupted herself because of a minor pain from recalling her memories. She still hasn't been able to remember all of them, even after a lot of sleep.

"Yeah. That's about it on your side. Mine's just that… He looked creepy, his eyes felt like he was looking for me in a weird way and so I ran. After that life continued. You went on a leave and I resumed working." She supplied, staring at the grey walls of the mess hall.

"I wish I'd remember where I went on that vacation. It'd be cool." Max commented, crunching on another bite.

"My heart… beats differently when he's near. It's like he's really familiar." She whispered.

"Oh. Someone's been struck by the Cupid. He is attractive though. Without those ink, he'd probably be your type." Max teased, winking at her and nudging her. Samantha was serious, though.

"Look. I admit my heart feels something for him. It's a mix of guilt and longing. But why would I long for someone I just met?" She sighed and dropped her head on the table, groaning as her mind and her heart battled against the inconsistencies.

"Look. It's not too crowded here. Maybe we could do some research by their library!" Max suggested, creating finger guns and humming the Mission Impossible theme song as she stood up and went to the library. Samantha chuckled.

"So we're spies now?!" She placed a hand on her forehead as she followed her wacky best friend.

Maxine typed down Alex on the search bar, his public profile appeared and they began reading his file. It was all basic ideas, Nationality, Height, his name was redacted and they couldn't bypass it so they just ignored it and headed to the next term.

"CIA Agent Alex helped locate and detain CIA Mole." Samantha read with her mouth. Maxine quickly clicked the article and photos of her appeared on almost every page.

Unlike Maxine, these notes didn't hurt her mind except it hurt her heart that she treated him that way, after all this time. He was there to save her. He located you through Maxine to save you from the same captors that played with your brain months ago.

"Ooooh. It says here you two were safely housed in a remote safehouse for almost a month. Really Sam? Maybe something happened within that time? Can you please remember how he looked underneath those clothes. For me?" she giggled. Samantha knew she was joking but it was an honest possibility.

Could it be that she fell for the guy that saved her and sat with her for almost a month? Or the two of them fell in love? Her heart was racing as the possibilities overloaded her brain, her cheeks started to blush as her thoughts consumed her. This wasn't her mind talking to her, it was her heart. It's reminding her of Alex.

"Oh. Shit." Maxine muttered and Sam snapped back to reality, putting her hand on Max's shoulders and looked into the screen once again.

Due to a special favor promised by Samantha's father, he has authorized to apply an MK Ultra procedure to her, whose main intention is to Alter her memories of the IP Address along with the events that happened prior to kidnapping.

"You agreed to forget him?" Max looked at her, a frown formed as she started to console her.

"I guess so… Maybe something happened between us." She sobbed. She didn't want to cry, but the realization set in on her. They met, they bonded and she forced herself to forget him. No wonder Alex felt sad after being slapped.

"I want to ask him about us." Sam said with determination. Maxine liked the confidence but was also concerned about her feelings.

"What if you wanted to forget him, that's why you did it? Would you be ready to feel the sadness all over again?" Maxine asked. Samantha paused for a while. She made sense but her gut is telling her to push through her initial plan.

"I'm sorry Max, but I made my choice. I have to know everything about us, Whatever it Takes." she said.

"I'm here to support you. After all, you're the only memory I have left. They took everything. I don't know why but my memory began when I moved in. That's where my story started. Maybe there's a reason for it so, here I am for you. You're my family." she said, hugging her tight.

"Well, you could add a few more people in your family." she smiled.

"Yeah. It's full of tough looking brothers ready to protect us. And one soft Gary." she noted.

"He is a sweetheart, huh?" Samantha asked, getting a hint of something else from her.

"Well, he talks a lot and he gets me sometimes. It's a shame he's always out there saving the world." Max chuckled. Samantha froze.

"I know you want this to work..."

"This is our proposed digital art for our ad…"

"... and I know in my heart that I do too…"

"The colors need to be more vibrant!"

"...but I can't live loving you with worry in my heart..."

"I'm staying a little bit longer, See you tomorrow!"

"... and I don't want to be the reason that you'll stop saving the world. I know you want that. It's your job to. It's what you built your whole life to become..."

Her head started projecting two realities, it confused her. Which was right and which was wrong? She knew the work one was right, but the memories she just made right now while crying in front of Alex made more sense. Which was real? Which was fake?

"Sam! You okay?" Maxine snapped her fingers and Samantha blinked rapidly.

"I'm going crazy Max." she panted.

"What's wrong?" she consoled.

"My memories. They're all wrong. Why did I agree to this?" Samantha continued breathing heavily.

"Well, for starters. It's to forget that IP Address you memorized as a kid."

"But why did they change the recent ones too? Did I decide that my time spent with Alex is worth forgetting? Did he break my heart or did I break his?" She sighed. She knew for herself that she was unable to love again because of her loss, but what if Alex made it right for her? Alex did something that helped her move on? That's why her heart felt yearning for him?

"Sam. I'm no love doctor but if this really bothers you, you should talk to him. I have no idea when they'll get back but I'm looking forward to your resolution." She patted her shoulders and gave her a soft hug. Samantha felt like crying, but why?

~

After a while, Samantha actually had the courage to ask about Alex's whereabouts. Word has it that he's being redeployed to Germany to investigate another alleged Augustus base and that they had no idea when he'll be back.

This worries Samantha because they already heard about a transfer of authority, which in simple words meant : You're leaving the base. And that meant she won't see Alex anymore.

Maxine and Samantha sat on their beds at the infirmary to recover once again, both of them fell quiet as the news they got started to bother them. They already got attached to the people in the base and were sure that they're going to miss them. All they could do is hope that the team gets home before they leave the base.

“You think Alex will be okay?” Samantha shifted her sleeping position to Maxine, who was still awake humming to soothing melodies. Maxine shifted to face her too and smiled.

“You’re worried.” She teased, making her smile and giggle.

“Well, my heart told me I have to worry…”

“That’s normal. And don’t you worry ‘bout a thing… He’s a tough guy, remember? He’s trained to survive such harsh conditions. That’s what his file said, right?” She reminded Samantha, giving her an assuring smile. Samantha shrugged off her worry and closed her eyes. She started to imagine what it felt like being with him, based on information from his file. She can’t help but smile at her crazy idea. She felt like a teenager all over again, obsessing herself on fictional characters she watched on TV, since she could only base his personality on words alone. But she did remember how his cheeks felt, from the slap, and placed her palm on her cheek as well. It felt like he was with her and her heart felt excited as she awaited for his return.

Next Chapter : The Berlin Tower

NOTIFICATION SQUAD MY BELOVED ❤️

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 21

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - Possess

There were no classes the next day. Lin Yan wanted to sleep in. Who knew that he'd get woken up by Yin Zhou's early morning phone call? He was still hazy from sleep. He didn’t make out a lot of what Yin Zhou was saying. From what he did hear, it seemed like one of his relatives say a ghost. . . Lin Yan put down the receiver and sat on the bed in a daze. He raised his head and glanced at the wall clock on the wall. It was currently 7:05. He had forgotten to close his curtains last night and bright sunlight streamed into the room.

Lin Yan turned over and lay on the blankets, wanting to go back to sleep. The morning wind blew in from the window, and the cool air made him feel refreshed from his shoulders to his legs. Lin Yan hugged the pillow when a thought appeared. Something was wrong.

His side was bare?

He jumped up like a flailing carp and looked down at his bare torso. Lin Yan was so frightened that he pulled the blanket around his waist, looking like a guilty thief.

Fortunately, Xiao Yu wasn't there.

Lin Yan slumped back on the bed, stretching out his arms and legs and reminiscing about what had happened last night. It seemed that he actually had a bath with the ghost, and even had a good time with him. But then, Xiao Yu put on his clothes, leaving him only wearing his drenched boxers. When the flashback reached the part where the door slammed, Lin Yan jerked. He groaned internally; he actually messed around with a ghost.

The relationship between the two had just started to improve at the antiquities lecture, and then a comment about sending him away caused him to completely flip out. Lin Yan put his chin on the pillow and sulkily pondered. He wasn't sure what the ghost had been upset about. It was hard to determine who took advantage of who last night, but a ghost that claimed he'll take his life doesn't give him much room to resist. It was unbearable. If it weren't for the fact that he had finished things himself, he would have gone crazy.

Besides, jerking off is a real personal topic. . . Lin Yan felt himself blush. He buried his head into the pillow and wanted to stay there for the rest of the day.

Anyways, what about the ghost?

Lin Yan changed his clothes, ruffled his messy hair and walked out of the bedroom. When he turned to the living room, he was midway through the yawn. When Lin Yan saw the scene in front of him through the sleepy haze in his eyes, his body was numb in shock and he almost screamed.

Xiao Yu was sitting on the sofa and stared at him coldly. The light gray soft satin shirt reflected the delicate pearly light of the early morning sun. He looked like a beautiful young man, but right now, he made the atmosphere gloomy and chilly.

Five words quickly popped up in his head: enemies on a narrow road*.

*(T/N: it's four characters in Chinese [冤家路窄], and it basically means two enemies that inevitably meet and have a staredown, i.e. a cowboy faceoff at high noon, that kind of thing)

Lin Yan stood awkwardly tugged on the hem of his shirt. The situation was completely beyond his imagination. The ghost found in the tomb was a ruthless murderer, but this ghost was different from the ones on TV or in horror movies. He wasn't possessing him, couldn't remember how he died, or even remember who he was. There was nothing else for him to do but cling to him every day. It sounded pathetic, but he could at least always hold his form and didn't shy away from the sun. Lin Yan glanced at the sofa discreetly, thinking that the next time he saw the little Daoist priest, he would have so many questions to ask him.

The question now was what should he do? The person on the sofa was clearly upset. Even though he was a few metres away, Lin Yan could still feel the surrounding air crackling and exploding with sparks.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to take the initiative to attack and kill the enemy before the enemy could attack, nipping all the hidden attacks in the bud. Lin Yan channelled his qi, opened his meridians, centred his energy, and let out a dry smile: "Good morning Young Master Xiao!"

You could hear a pin drop.

"Are you. . . hungry? I'm going to make breakfast?" Lin Yan wanted to ask him for forgiveness. Even though he thought that ghosts probably didn't need to eat, eating was probably similar enough to eating people. Eating people. . . Lin Yan's face started to burn again. He anxiously wrung his hands. He moved to the sofa, and gently placed a hand on the ghost's knee.

Xiao Yu glanced at him, then turned to stare out the window in silence.

"I'm not angry anymore. I let you kiss me, and we can do it again in a few days. I don't know what's wrong." Lin Yan coaxed him kindly.

The ghost still sat silently.

"I don't want you to leave anymore. You choked me so hard yesterday, so let's call it even." Lin Yan felt like he was making a fool of himself. He was getting frustrated so he leaned forward cheekily: "Here, I'll let you kiss me again as compensation."

"Alright, then I'll kiss you whenever I want to instead."

Not waiting for Lin Yan to lean over, Xiao Yu flung his sleeves, moved to the side and sat upright looking at him.

Xiao Yu's reaction really let him know what it meant to show warm feelings but meet with cold rebuke. The irritability of being woken up early in the morning mixed with his current anger, and he couldn't keep it together. Why, despite getting closer to death every day, did he still have to go out of his way to make this ghost happy?

Lin Yan clenched his fist and screamed at Xiao Yu: "What do you want? Do you want me to just lie still while you fuck me? I'm a living fucking person and you never ask when you want to do anything. I dug up your grave, not fucked your corpse. What's the point in stalking me like this? Huh?" As he got angrier and angrier, he picked up a glass cup on the coffee table and smashed it, the shards scattering all over the floor.

"Fine, have it your way. You want me to leave? If you aren't going to kill me then I still have things to do. When the time comes, you go on your way and I'll go on mine. We won't owe each other anything!"

In the living room early in the morning, two people were sitting on the sofa, one with a blank face and the other with a face full of rage right beside him. Neither wanted to look at the other longer than they needed to. Sunlight bounced off the broken pieces of glass on the ground. The orchids on the windowsill were in full bloom, and a few slender branches were covered with quivering white butterflies.

A picture-perfect scene of a husband and wife quarrelling.

The people involved wouldn't agree with this. Lin Yan tugged on the waistband of his pants and walked to the kitchen distractedly. He took four eggs and cracked them into a frying pan. He didn’t know why he still prepared enough for two people. The oil crackled and popped on the pan. When it was almost cooked, he grabbed the sugar from the spice box and sprinkled it in. Lin Yan bowed his head again. He just wanted to throw the pan away. He had accidentally put the wrong seasoning, and now the poached eggs were sprinkled with a thick layer of MSG.

He couldn't keep living like this.

Suddenly the phone in his pocket beeped. A text message from Yin Zhou popped up with the address of XX hospital and a message: “Visiting starts at 9:30. Get here quickly.” Lin Yan stared at the phone in a daze, and suddenly remembered the jumbled call he received this morning. It seemed that Yin Zhou's relatives had encountered something evil and he wanted him to grab the little Daoist priest and rush over to see what was going on.

Holding his phone, Lin Yan didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. He hadn't even dealt with the evil things happening around him. Now he had to take on someone else's problem, as if ghosts from all over the world had made an appointment to meet him, rushed over all at once and greeted him with an evil grin. Lin Yan turned off the stove, forwarded the text message to the little Daoist priest, and tried to fix his expression as he walked to the living room. He hadn't been angry for so many years and he didn't know what to do with himself. He deliberately forced himself to keep a straight face and stared at the wall behind Xiao Yu's shoulders: "I'm going out. If you really don't want to see me, stay here. I'll be back tonight at the latest."

After he finished talking, he went to stand at the door to change his shoes. He turned his head and was face-to-face with Xiao Yu again. He was close enough that he could see his reflection in the other's eyes. Lin Yan was so startled that he almost fell into the shoe rack.

"You want to play Cold War but you're still going to follow me, this guy. . ." Lin Yan muttered, grabbing the car key from the hook and opened the door.

At 9:30 a.m., Lin Yan, who had just finished charging through the morning traffic, appeared in front of a private hospital on the North Third Ring Road. The hospital’s grandeur was a sight to behold. The high-rise buildings were covered with walls of light-blue glass, and the shrubs in the flower beds were meticulously pruned. Although the road near the main entrance of the hospital was congested with traffic, it got better once he passed through the gate. Lin Yan followed the instructions on the floor plan to find the inpatient department. He bought a ridiculously expensive basket of apples from the supermarket downstairs, walked through the front door, took out his mobile phone at the elevator entrance and double-checked the address Yin Zhou sent him.

This is it. Lin Yan took a breath and stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 17th floor.

In the elevator, Lin Yan hoped that the ghost would do something to disperse the current embarrassing atmosphere, but Xiao Yu just stayed an arm's length away from him and put on an air of indifference.

When the nurse led Lin Yan into the ward, Yin Zhou and A-Yan had already arrived and were sitting on some stools in the middle of a conversation. The private room was clean and tidy. A wide hospital bed sat against the wall, covered with light blue bedding. There were no patients. A middle-aged woman with delicate makeup but a sad expression sat on the bedside peeling oranges. Seeing Lin Yan enter the room, she barely forced out a wry smile and greeted him: "Xiaolin is here, sit down."

"Hello, Auntie." Lin Yan pulled up a chair and sat down. This woman was Yin Zhou's aunt. She was often seen around Yin Zhou's house during New Years. He remembered her as being a very popular person. She liked to laugh at Lin Yan's jokes, and always said that when her daughter was older, they could get married. She kept at it until she met Weiwei, then she changed her goal and asked him almost every day if he was married yet.

"Xiao Yang is over there." The woman pointed to the window. A girl wearing a hospital gown stood in front of the window glass with her back to Lin Yan, not reacting at all.

Lin Yan nodded at Yin Zhou. "What's going on?"

Yin Zhou pulled his stool over and sat down by Lin Yan. He pointed to the girl by the window: "It's my cousin. The one that set off firecrackers with us on New Years, remember? For the past month, she's been in the hospital with a kidney infection."

"Of course I remember my little wife." Lin Yan laughed and called to the girl at the window, "What's Xiao Yang looking at? Come over here, look who's here."

The girl didn't seem to hear it at all. She remained at the window and continued staring out.

Lin Yan was perplexed. He remembers this girl as someone lively and mischievous, talking like a mini adult. Even when she was thirteen or fourteen, it always seemed like she, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were all the same age. During the Chinese New Year, Yin Zhou had been bored playing games in his bedroom and didn't want to greet his relatives so Lin Yan became the host despite being a guest. He was the one who watched TV and gossiped with this little girl; from which boy was handsome to who secretly wrote a note to whom. The little girl was smart and kept her wits about her. One time, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou secretly took her to a lake to go ice skating. As a result, her foot slipped through the ice and she got completely soaked. Unexpectedly, she never said a word of what happened and she kept it secret when they all went home.

No one in the room spoke, and the sudden silence made Lin Yan a little at a loss. A moment later, the woman sitting on the bed suddenly burst into tears: "I don't know what's wrong. She was barely sick and then this happened." She pointed at the girl by the window and cried loudly: "It's been four days. She hasn't eaten or slept. She just stands by the window and stares outside. The doctors have checked for everything that could possibly be checked. They say it's hysteria and there's nothing they can do. I can't take it anymore."

"What? Auntie, calm down. Speak slowly." Lin Yan was confused.

"See for yourself. It's hard to explain." Yin Zhou pointed to the girl standing completely straight at the window.

Lin Yan put the fruit basket on the bedside table hesitantly. He walked to the window and stood behind the girl for a while. When she didn't move, he tapped her shoulder: "Xiao Yang, have you missed me?"

The girl turned her head. Not like how ordinary people turn their heads where they move their necks first, but instead turned her head 180 degrees until she and Lin Yan were face-to-face. As soon as he saw the girl’s face, Lin Yan yelled and stumbled back. He immediately noticed something wrong. She didn't have any pupils. Her eyes were rolled back into her head. Through her tangled hair, only the whites or her eyes were staring at Lin Yan. She faintly hissed: "Are you here yet?"

"Why haven't you come yet?"

[rainydawgradioblog]

a covidsation with mary claire

For the first Covidsation for autumn quarter, here is an interview I did back in May with Mary Claire, my dear friend and one of my favorite local artists. Mary Claire is a singer-songwriter based here in Seattle who makes “sad girl rock” (see: Mitski, Angel Olsen, etc.). I first met them through the DIY scene and was lucky enough to book them at the finale Red Room show, a house venue I used to live at and help run. As evidenced by the picture below taken that very night, seeing Mary Claire play live is a magical, mesmerizing, captivating experience. Often accompanied with minimal, but tonally-rich instrumentals, their powerful and hauntingly stunning voice paired with visceral, poetic lyrics transport you into another realm. I *highly* recommend listening to their album Phantom Limb, which you can find on your streaming platform of choice or you can snag a physical copy at Everyday Music on the Hill like I did! Last month, they also just released an incredible stop-motion music video for their song off PL called “I Don’t Like Drinking”, directed, edited, and animated by Barb Hoffman, which you can find here! Thank you Mary Claire for these thoughtful responses and for creating such vulnerable, beautiful art <3

Lola Gil: Tell me about your project. How has it evolved? Which artists are you most inspired by? How would you describe your sound?

Mary Claire: Hi hi I’m Mary Claire. I was never someone who was playing music since they were a little kiddo, it was something I picked up my senior year of high school. But pretty much everyone in my family has some amazing and weirdly specific aptitude for music, so I think being surrounded by that kind of allowed me to gather an eclectic, personal understanding, appreciation, and internalized feeling for music, so I never really took lessons or anything like that. I enjoyed and still enjoy that from the start, I was okay with the fact that I didn’t know “academic” theory and I just played with what feels and sounds right. And I still do that. So I played around with all those youthful punk feelings and had an angsty band in high school that was not bad for small town Sacramento. I think I learned so much from that and it gave me a flood of unhindered and unhinged confidence for recording, performing, maneuvering stage mechanics and technicalities, etc. Also it introduced me into the world of songwriting that I did for that band and for myself that just immediately poured out of me, which led me to what I’m doing now. I am extremely lyrically-focused and write mostly about lived personal experience that I surrender to and make extremely overly-wordy. I went from a solo act, to a bigger full piece crunchier band, to me and a piano player, back to a solo set, so I’m really just kind of evolving with my resources, the songs I’m currently living in and playing, and with what would bring everything to life most fully. 

I’m inspired by everyone, even if I don’t necessarily sound like them or listen to them all the time. Like, my adoration for incredibly angry punk music is what got me started in the creation of my own music, so that foundation will never leave me. Even though I won’t sound like IDLES or Shame or Pissed Jeans, their point of view and their devotion to cramming so many words into one breath is a place I also come from. We execute similar feelings in different ways. And though I currently am not anything like Yves Tumor, King Krule, or FKA Twigs, the layers in their stuff sends me so far. But I think lyrically and melodically, I pull inspiration from and sink most into Mitski, Sasami, Angel Olsen, Palehound, Big Thief, Bella Porter, Darci Phenix, Fiona Apple, Sufjan Stevens, Izumi, and Weyes Blood. 

Someone once said my tunes are “sad girl rock” and I think that sticks in a fun, quick way, so that’s what I tell people. But more recently, the stuff on my upcoming album I think is like a sad, fucked up, incredibly fast-paced nursery rhyme book (lol). I’m really excited for this album I wrote, more than anything ever. Also my good friend and twin flame Francis is helping me record it and is giving me a lot of knowledge and challenges and affirmations and inspiration. I owe a lot of this second album’s production and complexity him. There are a lot more people involved in the recording of this one, so it’s a lot fuller in a new and exciting and scary way.

LG: As an artist, how have you been affected by the pandemic? I saw most of your tour you had booked was unfortunately cancelled-- are you planning on rescheduling?

MC: Rescheduling feels so completely beyond me right now, so I am just considering it to be cancelled until things in the world really start to settle down to some degree of safety and responsibility. However, the silver lining in all of this ‘rona stuff is that it has given me a ton of time to recenter myself with my music and devote my own energy into recording and feeling the core of my upcoming album. I think when the world is moving so fast, it’s easy for me to feel like I’m behind, like other people are getting shit done faster and in a more “impressive way”, in a way that matters more or has more inherent value. So when we are all forced to stay at home with ourselves, not only does it remind me that all of those insecurities are completely not real and are in fact a delusion borne from a capitalistic-productivity-equals-artistic-worth-framework, but I also get time to actually enjoy and fine tune what I otherwise might have just thrown out into the ether desperately and prematurely in hopes to be current and up to date and ~with it~.

LG: Have you been working on writing any new tunes? Have you been involved in any other creative projects recently?

MC: When I was recording Phantom Limb, I wrote the majority of my next upcoming album, so while those songs don’t feel incredibly new, there is a ton of stuff I have yet to share and that I am so eager to scream to the world. It feels like some of the stuff I am most proud of making in my entire life. 

But since I left for Berlin to study abroad last fall to when I came back to Seattle this January, I really hadn’t written anything new. I think I had been going through a lot of personal and immense change and hard growth that wasn’t particularly inspiring, it just sucked and was intense and necessary, but sometimes all that bad stuff is not something you can just make art out of. Plus I had to just do something totally different and invest and surrender to techno and being a gross city Eurotrash gremlin and let that out cathartically. But recently, I wrote my first super new song in what feels like ages, and I’m so happy. I was afraid maybe I’d forgotten how to do it, but it’s pouring out of me again and I feel like me again. I have also been working a bit back and forth with a friend from the project World Peace. We just keep sending clips back and forth and weaving our separate projects together a bit, which is something I’ve never done and I’m having a ton of fun, especially because our music is so different. Besides that, I have some plans to work with another good friend Izumi after having adored them the moment I moved here. 

LG: How have you personally been dealing with the pandemic and the craziness that is 2020? What has your quarantine experience been like so far?

MC: I went home to Sacramento for a month and watched more TV than I had probably in my entire life. It was really good to see my family and siblings who I miss so much. But I came back to Seattle in April and since then have just been spending my days in a limbo of online school weirdness. But I’m so fortunate that I live with so many people who are all so unique, all of whom I feel are my best friends. So I definitely don’t get too bored:)

LG: What music have you been listening to during quarantine? What has been your go-to isolation album?

MC: Okay to be honest, when I begin to think of my next album and what it feels like inside of me, I make one single playlist with like hours and hours of songs on it and it’s the only thing I listen to for like a year. So I’m prone to listening to the same stuff perpetually forever and always, but I think I’ve always sort of been like that. It makes the feeling familiar. But since I’ve felt close to the sounds of my upcoming album for a long while now, I’ve actually pretty much been listening to what is my ~album 3~ inspo playlist, because I already feel that beast growing inside of me. I’m a planner. 

Most of the artists on those playlists are the ones I listed above in regards to who I feel are my biggest inspirations. But right when quarantine started though I would pretty much only play Man Alive!, I would just go through the whole thing and then restart immediately. When I was in Sacramento, my family had a rule I could only play it with headphones because it was literally nonstop, that’s just how I consume things; I take a bath in them until I feel every single part of what was made. But other than that, I’ve been bumping Peter Campanelli’s Pesto Baby and crying a lot about it, Darci Phenix’s (my best bud from Sac) Juniper Street which is some of the best songwriting literally ever, and Francis Farmer’s Bruised Fruit which is SO expertly recorded and thought out, I am so lucky he is my friend and wants to record my upcoming album with me.

LG: Arethere any spring shows that you were particularly looking forward to attending that got cancelled?

MC: Pretty much all of them imaginable. 

LG: How do you think the Seattle music scene is going to be like post-COVID?

MC: Hopefully, this can recenter us and remind us we’re all really really and truly in this together. It’s up to us to lift each other up and get each other on bills and spread the word and create community for those who need it most and for those whose lives rely on this art. Seattle seems like it is really good at that on a small scale, but once it gets to a little bit larger stage, it’s easy for people to forget where they came from, who supported them, and what should be at the forefront of our radars. I think shedding this cool guy persona and getting back to why this shit is so important and listening to/PROMOTING smaller artists who are making The Best stuff is something everyone could be reminded to do. 

LG: In this funky era of social distancing, how do you think artists can support each other during these weird and difficult times? How do you think social media is facilitating and/or inhibiting connection within Seattle’s overall creative community?

MC: I think people’s ability to make what seemed like such an immediate switch to social media music promotion and shows was really amazing. However, it makes me feel a bit hopeless and dystopian and sci-fi in a weird way. That being said, trying to resist the change has only proven to be detrimental to me and kind has come back to kick me in the ass. Like, I should not be turning down opportunities just because livestreams kind of freak me out in how foreign and disconnected they can appear to be. I’m no better than them, and it’s important I think to accept things where they’re at instead of pretending they’re not happening. 

That being said, I think everyone has been maneuvering with such grace and empathy and compassion for others in a way that I can really feel, and I hope that sticks around forever. 

- Lola Gil

[zombriekid]

Night Off [Dabi/Gender neutral reader] 

Series: Boku no Hero Academia 

Summary: a slightly injured dabi interrupts your night off

  There’s a Dabi in your window.

  It’s your first night off in over a week, there’s a stream of Bob’s Burgers eighth season waiting for you on your tv, your little convection oven is done reheating your leftovers, you’re pouring yourself a mug of freshly brewed coffee, and there’s a grown ass man named Dabi climbing through your kitchen window. 

  He’s straddling the sill, one foot in the kitchen one foot out on the fire escape, and his blue eyes don’t take long to find you. The left side of his mouth pulls up into some semblance of a lazy grin and you internally congratulate yourself for not cringing. “Hey airhead.”

  Any ounce of surprise you’re feeling is immediately replaced with irritation; he knows you don’t use that moniker anymore, you made that pretty freaking clear the first time he confronted you! And you’re ready to remind him of that, ready to use every curse word in both English and Japanese to chew his ass out when your brain finally catches up to your eyes. 

  He’s covered in shallow, oozing cuts and large, blooming bruises that you know will turn purple later.

  God, you already feel tired. “What the hell, dude?” You groan.

  The zipper glides around the corners until the case is fully closed, and you toss the med kit on to a side table. Other than the bottle of rubbing alcohol the kit itself is completely empty of any real medical supplies and it’s all thanks to the little shit sitting next to you. Not that the jerk cares, judging by the way his body is just sagging into the cushion of the love seat, but still he owes you so many band-aids now.

  (At least three months worth now, actually, and a part of you wonders when this became more of a regular occurence.) 

  “Can’t do much about the bruising but your cuts should be good,” you say as you allow your posture to match Dabi’s.

  “You expectin’ a kiss or somethin’?” He asks, his tone monotonous and bland.

  You can’t help the snort that escapes your nose. “From you, hell no. But I would like to know what happened.. and who did this.”

  “Aww. Cause you care?”

  “So I can thank them for kicking your ass.” 

  This time it’s his turn to scoff but he doesn’t do much beyond that; he chuckles a few times at the antics of the animated Belcher family (Dabi understands English? How did you not know that?) and gives his neck a scratch or two but otherwise he’s quiet.

  “Is it a don’t ask/don’t tell sorta thing?” You glance at him from the corner of your eye after you ask the question, and of course he doesn’t do shit to respond. “I mean regardless you owe me a new first aid kit.”

  His silence persists. Your heart slowly kicks up its pace. 

  “Is it serious?” And still he says nothing. You’re outright staring at him now, torso twisted in a way to ensure that he’s all your looking at with one hand ready to grab his shoulder. “Are you in danger?”

  When he doesn’t acknowledge you you almost fly into a “Mom/Dad Friend” mode. The hand that’s ready to grab him does and though you’re afraid of any potential, more serious injuries that might be hiding under his clothes you still wind up shaking him a little. (You’re worried for his wellbeing, and you don’t know when that became a thing.) “Dabi?!”

  The twenty something year old villain rolls his neck until his patchwork face is looking at you, and just like the shit eating cat that ate the canary, he’s wearing a big ol’ smirk on it.

  You can feel yourself physically deflating.

  “Sure ya don’t care, airhead?”

  The apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears grow warm, and when the asshole gives a few snickers- at your expense of course- it takes every ounce of your willpower and strength not to throttle him.

  First time not having to close the restaurant in god knows how long and you gotta spend it with this idiot...

  With a one-shouldered shrug sent your way, he turns his attention back to the television and says “nah,’s just fuckin’ with some two-bit no-name hero,” here he looks at you in his peripheral. “Don’t worry, I won.”

  You don’t ask him what exactly that means but you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing it on the news in the morning. The sudden, tragic death of an upcoming hero will probably be mentioned in passing, briefly mentioned by the news anchor before they move on to a hotter topic, and that’ll be the end of it. You quash any old residual instincts that boil up from Dabi’s words.

  No need to try and be a hero again.

  Moments pass by, the television quietly playing in the background; your mug of coffee is sitting on the table in front of you, untouched and totally forgotten until now; the leftovers of a greasy burger and fries are next to the mug, and though you were absolutely famished just an hour ago you don’t really feel like eating anymore; and then there’s Dabi’s intense, blue eyes, still on you and still looking for the chips in your neutral disposition (a game he often plays, and there’s never a clear winner.) 

  Ultimately you decide that his “fuckin’ with” a small time hero has nothing to do with you- and yeah, it bothers you that your reaction is so lukewarm but... well, if you care about the one then you gotta care about them all. And you’re not a hero, not anymore. So you turn away from Dabi, away from his inquisitive stare, and he breaks the silence with another chuckle.

  Half way through the next episode of Bob’s Burgers, a headache born from caffeine withdrawal starts to bud in the back of your skull, so you bend to grab the mug from the coffee table. However, the moment your fingers graze the cool porcelain you realize that your drink is a. now cold and b. you’re going to have to get up to reheat it.

  “Goddammit...” you grimace. 

  You’re about to hoist yourself up on to your feet, soles already loudly protesting, when the villain’s left hand comes into your personal space. His palm is up and his fingers are out, and you realize that he wants your mug.

  “You know where the cups are at. If you want some then go make it.” You say with irritation.

  “Just give it.”

  “That’s how mono gets spread.”

  “I’m not gonna fuckin’ drink it.”

  Perhaps against your better judgment, you hand the mug over to him. His long fingers curl around the bottom and from the tips tiny blue flames flicker to life. You’ve never actually seen his quirk before, and you can’t help but to equate the color to that of his eyes. (Startlingly you like it.) 

  Dabi holds on to the cup until steam rises from the lip then holds it out to you.

  “Thanks...” you mumble as you grab the mug. The porcelain is warm now and it feels so wonderful against your (perpetually) cold hands.

  The expression on his scarred face doesn’t change, maintaining that same bored aloofness that you’re so familiar with. He acts like he doesn’t hear you, though it’s probably more like he just doesn’t care, but still the fact that he used his quirk to manually heat up your coffee for you makes you smile. You settle back into the love seat- barely recognizing that the two of you are practically hip to hip- and sip at the hot beverage.

  “You still owe me a new first aid kit.”

  “Will you shut the fuck up?”

  The next time Dabi shows up on your fire escape, he’s sporting some new (minor) injuries and a red case with a white, blocky cross on the front.

  “Hey airhead.”

a/u: listen. listen. i know that i said that i was done with writing, but then this cocky burnt chicken nugget came into my life and now here we are. bnha is a great series with great characters and of fucking course the first bit of fanfic i do for a. this series and b. in fucking forever is about a hot topic villain. so sue me. ain’t much of a content creator but holla at ya girl if you want more.

[aion-rsa]

Ted Lasso and Other TV Bosses We’d Walk Over Hot Coals For

https://ift.tt/3ryGOvx

In the heady moments of celebration after England’s victory over Denmark in this year’s Euros semi-final, the sight of team manager Gareth Southgate prompted ITV pundit Gary Neville to comment: “The standard of leaders in this country the past couple of years has been poor. Looking at that man, he’s everything a leader should be: respectful, humble, he tells the truth.” 

The former Man U right-back’s words, directed at the political rulers of a country riven by Brexit, tap into a modern craving for decency. Fed a diet of self-serving narcissism from our public figures, we hunger for more wholesome fare: moral character, humility, honesty, kindness. In the year of horrors that was 2020, that appetite was temporarily sated on TV by fictional football manager Ted Lasso. 

Played in the Apple TV series by Jason Sudeikis (who, in true Ted style, wore a shirt to the Ted Lasso season two launch in support of the three young Black England footballers who received racist abuse after their team’s eventual loss to Italy in the final), Ted’s thoroughgoing decency won everyone over to The Lasso Way. He’s the gold standard of TV bosses – selfless, caring, wise, inspirational, and patiently dedicated to bringing out the best in his players and the team as a whole. He may not always win on the pitch, but he always wins in our hearts. And if those words make you want to heave, then you, friend, may just need a little more Lasso in your life. #Believe.

To celebrate his return, we present Ted’s TV peers, the bosses for whom you’d go any number of extra miles.

Leslie Knope – Parks & Recreation

There is no finer example set in the TV workplace than Leslie Barbara Knope. The Pawnee public servant leads from the front, the sides and the back. She’s the waffle-powered sheepdog of City Hall, yapping co-workers and townsfolk into shape with her relentless work ethic and bottomless optimism. Leslie’s a boss who cares so much that she’s already bought your Christmas gift. And your birthday gift. And made you a special hand-crafted gift to mark the half-year anniversary of the day you first met. She sleeps three hours a night, runs entirely on sugar (or should that be salgar?), has a binder for every eventuality, and always, always has your back. Her rubber-soled energy is so infectious that over seven seasons she even manages to motivate the lazy (Tom), disaffected (April), dumb (Andy), aloof (Donna), hapless (Jerry) and the downright obstructive (Ron). For a gal named ‘nope’, she’s a whole lot of yes. LM

Bertram Cooper – Mad Men

Technically, advertising firm Sterling Cooper on Mad Men has two bosses – Roger Sterling and Bertram Cooper. Coop, however, is the let’s say…more experienced of the two and takes on the role of boss. And what a boss he is! The eccentric office sage played by Robert Morse takes a decidedly hands off approach to managing the workplace. Do whatever you want in this Madison Avenue ad agency, as long as you take your shoes off when you enter Bert’s office. And if you’re nice enough he might show you his collection of erotic octopus art. AB

Jacqueline Carlyle – The Bold Type

The Editor-In-Chief of Scarlet magazine, the women’s title at the heart of ridiculous millennial wish fulfillment vehicle The Bold Type is part mentor, part mother figure, part fairy godmother to the three young women at the centre of the show. Jane is an intern when she first meets Jacqueline, who greets her with “Are you a writer? You look like a writer.” Because, yep, it really is that easy to get a job at a top magazine. The Bold Type is nonsense but it’s very good hearted nonsense which tries in earnest to tackle big issues while maintaining a sunny outlook. Be yourself, be passionate, be bold, the show says, and the world is at your feet. Sent a couple of tweets? Congratulations, have a promotion! Threatened with a lawsuit because of something you wrote? No bother, have a promotion! Fraudulently passed yourself off as a stylist when you’re not, thereby ruining a key relationship? Meh. Promotion for you! Promotions all round! Jacqueline is glamorous and wise, endlessly patient with her proteges and seemingly in possession of a bottomless budget. We all wish we worked for Jacqueline and she’s a wonderful (imaginary) role model. We’re just slightly nervous for any young fans of the show who ever get to work for an actual, real life Editor-In-Chief… RF

Mr. Krabs – SpongeBob SquarePants

Mr. Krabs is a good boss because he’s refreshingly upfront about what matters to him. Simply put: the crab likes money. As long as you’re putting in the hours and keeping the profit margins fat, Mr. Krabs will be your best friend. Sure, he takes advantage of SpongeBob’s naivete from time to time. But deep down, you know the guy has a heart as big as his enormous whale daughter, Pearl. AB

Supt. Ted Hastings – Line of Duty

Think of Ted Hastings, head of Central Police’s Anti-Corruption Unit 12, as Ulysses – a man sailing on dangerous waters but so determined not to be seduced by the sirens’ song that he’s tied himself to the ship’s mast and stopped his ears with wax. Except replace ‘siren’s song’ with ‘bungs from criminal gangs’, and ‘ship’s mast’ and ‘wax’ with ‘sheer force of will, son’. Ted’s a colossus of integrity in a world of backhanders and turning-a-blind-eye. He does the right thing even when it’s the hard thing, and if you’re one of his officers, then you’re his for life. (Unless you’re a corrupt gangster plant, in which case, by Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, he’ll never live down the shame.) Ted may have more decency in his side-parting than most officers have in their whole bodies, but he still has his flaws. The stock he puts in loyalty makes him inflexible, and his temper’s a thing to be seen, but the key thing about Ted as a leader is that when he makes a mistake, he owns up to it. We should all be so lucky to have a gaffer like him. LM

Ron Donald – Party Down

Starz’s brilliant comedy Party Down premiered around the same time as classic NBC sitcom Parks and Recreation. As such, Ken Marino’s perpetually stressed boss character Ron Donald didn’t get nearly as much attention as another boss named Ron: Ron Swanson. Let’s be clear, however, nobody would want Ron Swanson as a boss because that means you’d have to regularly interact with a libertarian. Instead, it’s far better to be in the good graces of Ron Donald. This Ron will support your dreams all the while telling you about his own to own a Souper Crackers franchise. AB

Read more

TV

Press Gang: How Steven Moffat’s First Show Shaped a Generation

By Rosie Fletcher

TV

Party Down: a US sitcom that richly deserves your time

By Louisa Mellor

Lynda Day – Press Gang

Bit of of a niche one – you probably have to be British and in your 40s to even know who this is – but Lynda Day, played by Julia Sawalha deserves a mention as the youngest boss on the list. Editor of the Junior Gazette, the after school newspaper run by pupils at the heart of Steven Moffat’s very first show she’s an erudite journalist, a ruthless news hound and a self possessed young woman who cares more about being right than about being liked. Lynda isn’t particularly soft or warm but she is a boss who would make you a better writer. You’d strive to please Lynda, want to live up to her incredibly high standards and know that the work you were doing on the paper could actually make a difference. Lynda is all about work ethic and integrity. Small of frame, sharp of tongue, you wouldn’t wanna mess with her, but you know she’ll get shit done. RF  

Captain Holt – Brooklyn 99

It says something about a boss when you wouldn’t just walk over hot coals for them, you would also do it for their pet dog. Cheddar the corgi is just one of many reasons to snap your sharpest salute to Captain Raymond “Do Not Call Me Ray Or Use Contractions In My Presence” Holt. Precinct captain of the 99, Holt is a walking yardstick of fine taste, good manners, linguistic clarity and grammatical coherence. Holt values simplicity and despises vulgarity. Do your job and do it right, and you will earn his hard-won respect, perhaps indicated by a very slight incline of the head if he is feeling frivolous. Holt has already earned your respect, for leading an exemplary career as an openly gay NYC cop since 1987, facing down racists, homophobes and the lowest of the low: people who use “What’s up?” as a greeting. Captain Holt’s impossibly high standards are a bar few reach, but to which we can all aspire. LM

Ian Grimm and Poppy Li – Mythic Quest

Mythic Quest creative directors Ian Grimm (Rob McElhenney) and Poppy Li (Charlotte Nicdao) are messes on their own. But when their personalities combine, they create one great boss unit who keeps things moving and keeps things lively. Granted, I wouldn’t want to work for Ian and Poppy as a programmer or dev on the Mythic Quest team because crunch is real (and I also have no such skills). They would make for a great boss team in just about any other industry though. AB

DCI Cassie Stuart – Unforgotten

Some bosses try to impress their status on employees by turning up the volume, but not DCI Cassie Stuart. Everything she does in ITV police drama Unforgotten, from case meetings to suspect interrogations, she does in the same controlled, low voice. It gives her words an intensity that shouting wouldn’t achieve and makes her cold-case murder team lean in to absorb the significance of what she’s saying. Usually, that’s on the theme of how they owe victims answers and are going to find them. Diligent and dedicated, she trusts her team, especially partner Sunny, and is the kind of boss whose praise really means something. A ‘good work’ from her and you’d be walking on air. LM

Conan O’Brien – Conan

This is technically violating the spirit of this thought exercise because Conan O’Brien is not fictional. What he is, however, is a boss…in both the metaphorical and literal sense of the word. No late night talk show host has ever reveled in being the boss of a staff as much as Conan O’Brien has on his shows like Late Night, The Tonight Show, and Conan. He views his role as boss as an opportunity to troll his employees like a corny father torturing his children with dad jokes. Many of Conan’s behind the scenes workers have become stars in their own right, like producer Jordan Schlansky or assistant Sona Movessian. And it’s all because Conan can’t help but want everyone to be involved and having a good time. Just like any great boss would want. AB

Captain Janeway – Star Trek Voyager

Anyone can be a good boss in a thriving workplace, but it takes a person of strong character to stay empathetic, decisive, and focused when everything goes to hell. In the very first episode of Star Trek: Voyager, Captain Janeway is stranded with her crew on the wrong side of the galaxy, 70,000 light years from home. She is tasked with getting not only her Starfleet crew home, but also the remaining members of the Maquis vessel Voyager was trying to capture when they were both pulled into the unexplored Delta quadrant. She does this all without the institutional support of the Federation, and without the certainty that they will ever make it back. It’s not always pretty, and Janeway makes some questionable decisions along the way, but it’s hard to imagine Voyager making it home without Janeway as their tough-as-nails boss. KB

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Ted Lasso Season 2 is available now on Apple TV+

The post Ted Lasso and Other TV Bosses We’d Walk Over Hot Coals For appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[notalwayslate]

The Curious Case of Lights and Love at Lake Lochdubh

For: @minticetea

Happy Rumbelle Secret Santa!!!

Prompt: Anyelle, X-files AU

Summary: When mysterious lights and a crop circle appear in the small town of Lochdubh, Agent Fox Mulder is soon on the case much to the dismay of Constable Hamish Macbeth. However when Linguistics Expert, Belle French, arrives to assist, Hamish finds the intrusion on his town not as troubling as the intrusion on his heart.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13084107

The gust of Scotland’s fresh air was a welcome relief to her jetlag eyes, as Belle exited Edinburgh’s baggage terminal. The hustle and bustle of life was eerily quiet in the predawn light, as she rolled her luggage to the curb. After watching the rest of the passengers on her plane leave with family or awaiting taxis, she started to worry that he wouldn’t show. Just as more doubt started to creep into her mind, she noticed a single headlight in the distance. Relief washed over her, as the white Ford Fiesta pulled up to the curb.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Mulder apologized while getting out of the driver seat.

She smiled at him, as he took her luggage placing it in the boot of the car.

“You know you have a headlight out?” She called out to him as she slid into the passenger seat of the car buckling her seatbelt. She heard the boot close, as he slid back into the driver’s seat.

“Oh yes, I’m very aware I have a headlight out. Third time in fact, in the last two weeks.”

“Huh,” her brows burrowed together. “Is there a short circuit or something causing it to go out?”

“More like a short temper,” Mulder responded. “The local authority doesn’t take too well to strangers in his town.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m convinced I’m keeping the local repair shop in business, with as many replacement lights I’ve had to buy.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Just the cost one pays to find the truth I guess,” he shrugged, smiling at her. “Thank you for coming. I know you didn’t have to but…”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Belle abruptly cut him off. “The truth is I really owe a lot to Dana. It was due to her ample praise of my work that the bureau extended their consulting contract with me. So when she called asking for a favor, I was only too happy to help.”

Smiling at the mention of his partner’s name, Mulder never ceased to be amazed by what an inspiration Scully was to others. Of course she had a hand in Belle French becoming one of the top consultants in ancient languages, Scully always made it a point to promote and expand the number of women working in the field.

“I must confess though, Mulder, I don’t know many agents, who seek out paranormal activity while they are supposed to be on vacation. When Scully called asking me to come to Scotland to help you with this, I was surprised when she told me it was unofficial business.”

“What?” He shrugged. “Some agents prefer a beach, others the ski slopes. I just prefer to find the unequivocal proof of extraterrestrial life.”

Her laugh turned into a smothered yawn, as Mulder observed her with concerned eyes. “Sleep Belle. We have a few hours till we get to Lochdubh.”

X

A thump and sound of shattering glass bolted her up into a sitting position from a dead sleep. Alone in the car she looked out the windshield to see a uniformed man standing next to a taller man smoking a pipe and wearing a deerstalker hat.

“What the…” she mumbled to herself scrambling for the door handle. The look of complete and utter shock that fell upon the two men’s face as she exited the car would have been hilarious if anger hadn’t preoccupied her thoughts. Looking down at the shattered glass on the road, she raised her chin looking the policeman straight in the eye.

“Did you just break the other headlight?”

He blinked owlishly at her.

“How dare you!” She scolded.

She waited for a response but was met with silence. After a few more moments of glaring daggers at them, the taller man finally spoke to her.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady. My friend here thought this car belonged to someone else. He will be more than willing to pay for the damage. Uh, isn’t that right Hamish?”

A firm nudge to the ribs, finally broke whatever spell the man was under, as he jumped to attention. “Of course. Of course I will pay for the damage. Both of them.”

“Darn right you will. You…”

“Belle!”

Turning to the call of her name, she saw Mulder running towards her, a drink tray and a white bakery bag in hand.

“Well I see you’re up.” He placed the items down on the hood of the car, taking out one of the coffee cups, handing it to her. Turning to the policeman, he smirked.

“I see you are already making new friends, Constable Macbeth.”

“See, I knew it was his car,” Hamish balked to the taller man.

“So that makes it okay?” Belle interjected.

He turned to her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down whatever words he was going to speak.

“You know he has had to pay for every headlight you have broken. Last time I checked you are supposed to be enforcing the law, not breaking it.”

A small crowd of locals gathered at the scene, as the petite brunette berated the mute Constable in front of all to see.

X

Throwing his hat across the room with a curse, Hamish stalked into the station.

“Bad morning?” TV John asked lying on the couch watching the telly.

“I looked like a bloody idiot!”

Hamish moved to the window, peaking out the blinds. Across the street, Mulder was helping carry Belle’s luggage into the Inn.  

“Well you better call Billy and have him repair those headlights, unless you want a round two from the little lady.”

“So you heard then?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole town heard,” TV John chuckled.

“I’m not paying for that. That bloke has been creeping around this town for too long now. The rest of them left weeks ago, but oh no, not him.  And now what? He has his girlfriend coming here?”

“Who said she was his girlfriend?”

“Well who else would she be?” Hamish’s harsh tone grew curiously lighter. “Why you don’t think she is? You think she’s single? No way would a woman as beautiful as that be single.”

Chuckling TV John picked up the phone, dialing, as Hamish continued with his rambling.

“A girl like that wouldn’t want to be stuck in a small town like this. Nah, did you see her clothing? Well of course you didn’t you weren’t there, but it was nice. Expensive. A girl who likes that type of expensive duds isn’t going to be…”

“One room or two?” John’s inquiry jarred Hamish from his own self chatter.

“Ah, I see thanks.” And with that John hung up the phone. Grinning at Hamish, he spoke. “Two rooms.”

“What?” a distracted Hamish answered.

“That was Granny from the Inn. They are staying in two rooms, two separate rooms.”

“Two rooms?” Hamish smiled. Grabbing his hat off the floor he put it on walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” TV john inquired.

“I gotta go see Billy the mechanic.”

X

After a much needed rest, and a belly full of some of the most scrumptious food she had ever eaten, Belle found herself with Mulder in the middle of a field a kilometer or so outside of town, where the first crop circle appeared almost a month and a half ago.

Although she had seen the pictures Mulder had emailed her, it was an entirely new experience to see the patterns and symbols first hand. Examining the flattened grass, Belle listened as Mulder recounted how local residents reported strange lights above Lake Lochdubh, while a local sheep herder found this in his field the next morning.

“Can we talk to him, the herder that found this?”

“Nobody’s talking now, the Constable made sure of that.”

“I’m surprised it got out at all.”

“Someone contacted the media. Soon every reporter found their way to Lochdubh. I found out about it on a small international paranormal news feed I follow. Caught the first flight out, but that’s when the hoax confession came out. Everyone was leaving by the time I arrived.”

“Well that was one of the things that confused me, when Dana called and told me about it. They classified it as a hoax within days of it appearing, so what made you decide to stay here and investigate?”

“Well I found it interesting that the man, Peter, who confessed to it, was known to spend his nights passed out in the local pub. Something just didn’t feel right about it. So I stayed, and a week and a half later, I saw the lights over Lake Lochdubh, and a new symbol appeared in this field by the next morning.”

“So why would Peter do it again, after confessing it was a hoax?” Belle inquired.

“Why, indeed, especially since I have it on good authority that he was passed out in the drunk tank that night.”

“So it wasn’t him, but why confess though?”

“Well one thing you will learn about this small town, is that the residents want to keep it that way…a small town”

“So we have a false confession, lights in the night sky, and new patterns and symbols being discovered?”

Mulder nodded.

“I love a good mystery,” Belle chuckled, as they continued to examine the field.

  X

Four days had passed since Hamish first laid eyes on Belle French, and although he saw her consistently in his dreams, he had yet to see her again in person, that is until he walked into Barney and Agnes’s pub that Thursday night.

She sat in a corner table, a dress of blue lace, wound tightly against her firm body. She sat with Mulder, and Doc, sipping on a beer. Thanks to the town’s twin gossipers, Nessie and Jessie, Hamish had learned everything there was to know about the divine Belle French, and where and with whom she spent her time with over the last few days. She was an interesting bird, he would give her that.  She had a BA in Ancient Languages, and her masters in Literature, if the gossip was to be believed.

“If only she was here under different circumstances,” he thought to himself.

He thought he quieted down this alien phenomenon hogwash when he got Peter to agree to confess to making those symbols in the field. Yes, Hamish was curious as to the origins of the lights and unexpected crop circles, but he was not about to let his beloved town to be put on display for every passing stranger to examine.  The people here deserved peace and quiet, not to be poked or prodded by every alien chasing crackpot that stumbled into town.

He snapped out of his thoughts as her delicate laughter floated across the room, nestling into his ears.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Barney the bartender motioned his head towards Belle’s table as he poured Hamish another.

“Aye.”

“Nice too. Agnes told me she was single as well.”

“Oh, did she now,” Hamish feigned annoyance.

“I’m just saying, a girl like that, they don’t stay single for long. A man has gotta take a chance when he still has one.”

“Well, I happen…” Hamish’s words were cut short, as he heard a familiar masculine voice boom through the room.

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well Ms. French.”

Hamish turned in his seat to see the newly returned James Spencer pulling up a seat next to Belle. His grip on his mug tightened as a wave of anger, and what Hamish would deny was jealousy made his blood boil.

James Spencer, six foot two, well built, and rich, was the only child of town matriarch Albert Spencer. He had recently returned to Lochdubh after his father’s passing, to take over the town store. If there was one thing Hamish hated more than a stranger in Lochdubh, it was James Spencer in Lochdubh. And there he was, talking to Belle French with a smoothness that would probably have her falling in love by the end of the night.

X

“Another round for the lady, Barney.”

Within minutes of meeting James, Belle knew he was not her type. Sure he was easy on the eyes but as he continued to boast about himself, she could see there was no real substance behind his looks. She had dated men like that before and it always ended in disaster.

“Well we are glad you are back, even though we wish it was under different circumstances,” Doc spoke up to James.

“Thanks,” James smiled, turning his attention back to Belle. “I moved back here from Elin after my father’s death.” Although he appeared solemn as he talked about his father, Belle couldn’t help shake the feeling that there was a bitterness hiding somewhere beneath his eyes. As he continued to talk, Belle couldn’t help but to catch a glance of the Constable, who was sitting at the bar. She caught herself glancing down at how well his jeans fit his backside. Feeling sudden warmth coiling in her belly, she shook her head, trying to force her attention back to the company at her table, but her eyes kept searching for him.  

Two days later, the knocking on her door roused her from her sleep.

Rubbing her eyes, Belle let an elated Mulder into her room.

“Look what someone left outside my door. And more importantly look at page 118.”

Taking the book from Mulder’s hand, she turned to the dog eared page. Astonished Belle looked down at the page, the symbol she just saw in the field, staring back at her.

“What, How….Who?” Startled her thoughts scrambled together.

“I have no idea. I woke up this morning, and this book was at my door. Who knew? I guess at least one person in this town actually wants to help us.”

“It’s a Lingua Franca Semitic script.” Belle said flabbergasted. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” Grabbing the pictures of the crop circles off the desk she examined them against the book. “Get me a pen and some paper,” she instructed as she sat down at the small hotel desk.  Mulder watched silently as Belle frantically took pen to paper, finishing she sat back in her chair in awe.

“Could you translate it?”

She nodded silently at him.

“Well what do the symbols mean?”

“Believe.” She whispered.

X

Exhilarated by the finding, Belle and Mulder found a renewed resolve to uncover the mystery of the Lochdubh lights and crop circles. With a camera, walkie talkie, and blanket in hand, Belle made her way to the shore of Lake Lochdubh that evening with the intent of hopefully viewing the mysterious lights, while Mulder scouted the field.  

As the sun went down, Belle pulled the blanket tightly around her, as she heard a snapping of a twig in the distance. Grabbing the walkie talkie, she pressed the button.

“Mulder are you there?” She was met with moments of static before Mulder’s voice rumbled in.

“I’m here, everything okay by the lake?”

Hearing another twig snap, Belle whispered. “I think someone is here.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She heard a heavy footstep behind her. Lifting her walkie talkie, she spun on her heel, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Hamish?”

“Hey,” He held both hands up in front of him. “I didn’t mean to scare yah. I heard you were coming up here, and I just wanted to check on you.”

Relief flooded her system, as she placed her walkie talkie down.

“Belle are you okay, are you there?” She jumped as Mulder’s voice boomed from the device.

“Yeah, I’m here, it’s okay. It’s just the Constable.”

Hamish tried not to grimace at the ringing description she gave of him. Just the Constable. Not like the Adonis, James Spencer, Hamish thought to himself. He stood silently just looking at her. This was a mistake. He had heard from TV John that the pair of them had planned on splitting up, she at the lake, Mulder at the hay field. The thought of her alone in the dark made him apprehensive, so he packed a bag and before he could think better of it, headed to the lake to find her.

He needed to say something, but standing before her with those alluring blue eyes on him, all thought went out his head. How could anyone be so gorgeous? ‘Say something’ his thoughts screamed at him.

‘Tell her you were worried about her, no tell her you always patrol around the lake,’ his inner thoughts fought.

“So….” He finally spoke. “Seen any little green men?”

Shite, why the hell did he say that?

“If you are done making fun of me, I’m sure you have other people you still need to harass tonight, Constable,” she bucked back her displeasure evident in her voice.

“It was just a joke…I”

“Yes, I’m well aware everything I and Agent Mulder do is a joke to you Constable.” She snipped.

This was not going well, but as much as his embarrassment wanted him to flee, he still couldn’t just leave her here alone.

“Listen, I’ll just sit over here then,” he placed down his bag, spreading out a blanket he had in his arms about 20 feet away from hers. She shot him a look of her confusion, so he continued his reasoning. “I’m worried about you being out her alone.”

He saw her chin lower, her defensiveness ebbing away. “I won’t say anything, I’ll just sit over here, but…well my job is to keep this town safe, and while you are in this town, that includes you as well.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, and he could have sworn that he saw a brief smile.

“I actually wouldn’t mind the company,” she conceded.

His promise to stay quiet lasted all of fifteen minutes, and before long, the two of them were lost in conversation with each other.  As the night went on, she found herself sitting on his blanket, as he pulled out a thermos of coffee.

“It’s so beautiful here. I understand why you want to keep this place hidden away from the real world.”  

“It must be a change for you, coming from a big city,” Hamish responded.

“Who said I’m from a big city?” She laughed. Hamish listened memorized by her story. How she lived in Australia till the age of 10 then moved to America with her father after her mother had passed. He was surprised to learn that she currently lived in a small town, Storybrooke Main, to be near her father.

“The FBI often calls me in to consult on a variety of cases, so I get to travel some, but most of my work can be done at home remotely. Although I enjoy the adventure, there is nothing like small town.” She smiled at him, and Hamish felt his heart skip a beat.  

The more she talked, the more he learned, and the more enthralled he became with her. Lucky for him, they saw no lights over the lake that night, or the next, or the night after that. His new ritual of nights with Belle under a blanket of stars next to Lake Lochdubh, had easily become the best nights of his life.

Hamish never had trouble garnering a woman’s attention; there must have been some truth about women loving a man in uniform. Women had come and gone out of his life, but the feelings he had for Belle were surprisingly new and deeper, than anything he felt before, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. A situation he planned or rather hoped to rectify very soon.

 X

Belle sat across from Mulder in the booth, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she stared at the menu.

“You look overly chipper this morning. Since I know we haven’t had any progress with the case, I assume you had progress in….other areas. ” He smirked taking a sip of coffee.

“He’s not who I thought he was. I mean the first time I met him, he was breaking your headlights, but he’s really a good guy underneath it all. He likes to read western novels, and you should hear the stories of how he bends over backwards to help his friends, and how much he loves this town, and….”

Holding his hand up to stop her love struck ramblings, Mulder laughed. “I get it, I get it. You think the guy is wonderful, but since he gets your nights, could I just get your attention this morning.”

“Right,” Belle said blushing, as she placed down her menu, pulling out the Ancient Linguistic book that their mysterious benefactor had left them. As Mulder started to talk, she flipped open the book, as the pages fell over, revealing the inside back cover.  Her attention focused on an old worn brownish residue on the inside cover. She traced the rectangular shaped stain, as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“Where is the nearest library?”

X

Warm fingers caressed his face as he leaned his cheek into the touch. Slowly opening his eyes he smiled at the vision of Belle before him. “Best dream ever.” He murmured sleepily, as her giggle danced through the air.

“Ahem,” Mulder cleared his throat, startling Hamish fully awake. Rubbing his eyes, he did in fact see Belle standing before him, with Mulder behind her. Was she just touching his face, or was he dreaming that? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain as he sat up on the couch in the jail.

“Sorry I must have fallen asleep?”

“That’s alright; we’ve all been having active nights lately.” Mulder smirked.

Casting him a glance, Mulder took her cue. “I…uh…I’ll just wait outside then.”

“Sorry to wake you,” Belle blushed. “But I needed to tell you something.”

“No it’s fine,” Hamish stood straightening his uniform.

“I just wanted to let you know, that Mulder and I have to follow up on a lead today, so I won’t be at the lake tonight.”

The punch of disappointment he felt showed on his face, as the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no you have nothing to be sorry for,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just….well…I…” He suddenly felt the end of his ears burning. Why was he so nervous to tell her that he wanted to spend more time with her? That the nights they spend together at the lake were the best moments of his life.

“I was thinking…well I’ve had such a good time getting to know you, that maybe when I get back we could go out…to eat….like a date?” she bit her bottom lip, looking at him through her lashes.

“Aye. I would like that. Love that in fact.”

“Great.”

“Great,” he echoed smiling so wide his face hurt. “So you got a lead?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “We discovered….”

Her words were cut off by the swift entry of Doc, “Hamish they need you at….Oh,” he halted looking at the young couple before him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got to get going,” Belle smiled at Doc, turning her attention back to Hamish. “And it sounds like your needed elsewhere.” She turned to leave, as Hamish grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Be careful.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, as his lips made contact with her hand. With a blush, she whispered, “See you soon,” as she turned and walked out the door.

X

The hours moved as slow as molasses that day. TV John couldn’t help but chuckle, as he watched Hamish walk to the window for the 10th time, peering out, looking for any trace of her return. It wasn’t until well after the sunset that TV John finally convinced Hamish to head to Barney’s Pub for a drink.

“Come on Romeo,” he teased. “Your Juliet obviously won’t be back till late tonight.”

Taking a swig of beer, Hamish leaned into Barney who was cleaning a glass behind the bar. “So how did you know Agnes was the one for you Barney?”

Chuckling to himself, Barney stared at his wife standing at the opposite end of the bar. “The moment I met her.”

“Phish posh,” a drunken regular chimed in sitting a few stools down. “There is no such thing as love at first sight.”

“Who asked you?” Barney clipped back, turning his attention back to Hamish. “It’s a common question, people ask, how do you know when you meet the one. The truth is when you’ve met the one, you just know it, it’s….”

“Magic, different….special,” Hamish said wistfully smiling at the thought of Belle.

“That it is,” Barney smiled at the love-struck grin on the constable’s face. Soon however Hamish’s smile faded, as two drunks started to fight. Hamish dragged the first man out, cuffing him to the railing outside the pub, while he went in for the second. As he took both men to the jail to sleep it off in the drunk tank, he shot a glance over to the inn, seeing that Mulder’s car still had not returned.

With both men in their cell, Hamish took a seat at his desk to fill out the paperwork, as the events and lack of sleep this week finally caught up to him. Closing his eyes, he fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

Jolting awake, Hamish lifted his head from his desk. Daylight streamed in the room, as he quickly headed straight to the window. A wave of comfort flushed through his body, as he saw the white ford fiesta, sitting outside the Inn. She was back.

With pep in his step, Hamish walked over to the cell, a renewed energy of getting to see Belle today, fueling his good mood. Picking up his baton, he started banging it against the bars.

“Rise and shine laddies,” the continuous clinking of the bars, aroused the two hangover men.

Groaning loudly the first man sat up on his cot, rubbing his blood shot eyes.

“Could you stop that damn noise?” the man commanded, causing Hamish to stop for a moment as if pondering the question.

“Oh you mean this noise?” Hamish smirked lifting the baton once again banging it against the bars. “Maybe you’ll think twice before acting like fools at Barney’s.”

Hamish heard the door open, glancing behind him to see Doc entering the jail.  

“Hey Hamish,” Doc called out, as Hamish stopped his torment, turning around to acknowledge him.

“Hey Doc.”

“I heard from Agnes that these two were causing quite the ruckus last night.” Doc stated walking over the cell. “Thought I would bring over these,” he pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket, and a couple bottles of water.”

“Give me that,” the second man mumbled squeezing his arm between the bars to get the remedy for his hangover.

“You eat yet?” Hamish inquired to Doc.

“Yeah, I just finished breakfast.”

“Well after we get these two taken care of, I’m heading over the Inn to see if Belle wants to get a bite to eat then.”

“She’s already there, with James Spencer.”

“What?” Hamish spoke his voice laced with confusion. “Just the two of ‘em?”

He didn’t want to be jealous. Why was he jealous?  Belle was just eating breakfast. Eating breakfast with the most eligible bachelor in town according to most of the female population.

“Take care of these two will yah?” Hamish asked Doc, as he was already half out the door, making a beeline to the restaurant. His heart raced as he neared the building, stopping in his tracks as he saw the two of them through the window.

The oaf reached over the table taking the hand she so freely offered. Hamish stumbled a moment, trying to will the power back into his legs as James stroked her knuckles and she gave him one of her most radiant smiles.  He saw a rose lying near her, obviously given to her by him.

Through his agony, Hamish still had the forthright to move away from the window, as he flung his back against the brick wall of the alley. Trying to keep the contents of his dinner from last night down, he ran his hands over his face, his heart trying to make any type of sense of what he just saw. That looked like a date, hell who was he fooling, that was a date. She was flirting with him, he knew that smile, it was the same one she had given him.

After minutes of slouching in the alleyway, Hamish stood tall, straightening his cap. Anger and heartbreak fueled his steps as he sauntered into the restaurant, heading straight to the table with Belle and James.

“Hamish,” she was clearly startled by his sudden appearance pulling her hand out of the grasp of James.

“Good morning,” he gave his most cocky grin, even though he was dying inside. ‘Don’t let her see the hurt. Don’t give her the satisfaction,’ he thought to himself. “How are you two doing this morning?”

Her mouth hung open, and he could see she was struggling with what to say.

“Good, Constable,” James spoke. “A breakfast date with a beautiful woman is a wonderful way to start your day.”

Laughing, Hamish shook his head. He clapped his hand on James’s back, a tad too hard. “Yes, I believe that. Well don’t let me interrupt your date here.” He nodded at her, “Belle.”

Turning he closed his eyes, as he walked away from their table, his heart shattering in a thousand pieces.

X

Doc jumped at the slamming of the door. He was still in the cell attending to the men, as Hamish huffed into the room, throwing his cap, then undoing his tie, and throwing that to the floor as well.

“I take it things didn’t go well?”

If looks could kill, Doc would have been dead on the floor. Just as Doc opened his mouth to speak, Belle came rushing through the door.

“Hamish!”

“Oh great,” Hamish kicked the side of his desk. “Your date already over?”

“No listen you don’t understand…I was...”

“No I don’t need to understand,” he barked out. “I thought….I thought we…” he gestured his hand pointing between he and her. “Forget it.”

“If you would just let me speak,” Belle countered.

“You should hear the lady out,” one of the drunks in the cell chimed in his two cents.

“Stay the hell outta this!” Hamish pointed towards the cell. Turning he plastered on a phony grin.

“Its fine, Belle. It was a fun distraction, but it’s time you left here.”

“What?” he saw the stab of pain in her eyes, and for a moment he wanted to kick himself, but yet his broken heart kept talking.

“I was just trying to get close to you, so that I could get you to convince Mulder to leave. You’ve both outstayed your welcome here.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as her eyes started to water. “I don’t believe you.”

“You mean nothing to me.”

“You’re lying,” her voice was hoarse with emotion.

“Good day Ms. French,” he gestured for her to leave.

Walking to the door, she turned to him, one hand on the knob.

“Well you mean something to me,” she lifted her chin, her eyes still watering, as she walked out of the jail, possibly his life for good.

“You are going to regret that, Mate,” the other drunk called out of his cell.

“Who asked you?” Hamish countered.

“That girl has feelings for you, even a blind man can see that,” the other drunk spoke.

Hamish sat down in his chair running his hands through his hair. The look of hurt in her eyes would haunt his every night. She didn’t seem like the type of girl who played games. Why would she lead him on? So many questions swarmed his mind.  She wanted to talk to him. Why hadn’t he let her speak, at least find out why she wanted James now, and not him.

“In my day, a man fought for the ones he loves,” the drunk said to the other.

“Aye. His pride outweighed his heart on that one. Shame cause she was a real looker, nice too.”

Overhearing the drunkards, Hamish realized that they were right. Belle was special, he had never had these feelings before in his life, and doubted he ever would again. He needed to fight for love, fight for her.

He quickly stood up, casting the three men a glance of determination.

“Go get err, Hamish,” Doc smiled at him.

After going to the Inn, he was informed that Belle was not there. He searched every building, asked every person he saw, but it seemed no one knew where she was. ‘Damnit, the town wasn’t that big, where the hell could she have gone, he thought to himself.’ Then it hit him.

Jumping in his car he made the short trek, and found her sitting by the lake. Willing his courage, he got out of the car, walking towards her with his heart in his hand. He would plead his case, beg her to give them a chance, and if she still wanted to be with James in the end, he would walk away if that is what her heart truly desired.

She was startled as she looked up and saw him standing a few feet away, he could see that.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes puffy, and he could see she had been crying for a while. Even with swollen eyes, and puffy nose, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, and every word, every plan he had went out the window, as his heart spoke.

“You mean something to me too. Actually, you pretty much mean everything to me.” Her eyes started to water again, and he pressed forward.

“I was wrong. I saw you and him there, and jealousy and anger took over, but I should never have spoken to you that way, or said the things I said. Even though I can’t change that, I am here now, and want to talk this out, because I love you, and what we have is worth fighting for.

He waited with baited breath, as she moved to her feet. When she lifted her hands, half of him expected her to slap him, but she grabbed the lapels of his coat, crashing her lips to his.

The taste of her lips, made his head spin, and with that one kiss every other kiss in his life faded from his memory. This was his forever; this was the only woman he would kiss again in his life. His lips followed her, as she moved to pull away.

“That breakfast with James was just…” her words were cut off, as Hamish pulled her in this time for another kiss. That second kiss led to a third, then fourth, and soon the two found themselves wrapped around each other on the ground. Things may have gone further, if Hamish didn’t believe that Belle deserved better than their first time being a quickie on the cold hard ground. She deserved time, and comfort, and roses, and wine. He lay on his back, with her in his arms, and he stroked her hair.

“So why were you there with him this morning?”

Smiling she lifted her head from his chest, leaning on her elbow. “Remember when I told you we had a lead?”

X

She couldn’t help glancing at her watch, anticipation and nerves building, as Belle waited for James to show up to her hotel room. She opened the door on his second knock, and tried not to let her disgust show as she watched him, look her up and down like a piece of meat.

“Come in,” she gestured for him to enter, watching as he zoned in on the freshly made bed in her room. ‘Jerk,’ she thought to herself.

“I must say I am in no way complaining, but I am flattered at the attention I am getting from you today. First breakfast this morning, and now dinner tonight.” He chuckled.

“Well I just couldn’t wait to see you again,” Belle said a slight grin on her face.

He glanced over at the small desk against the wall, picking up the ancient languages book, quickly flipping through it.

“So have you and Mulder made any progress on those crop circles?” He asked interest piqued.

“Oh yes, all thanks to this book. We were able to decipher the meaning of the patterns in the field.”

“Wow! That’s great. So it’s real then. You know I never really believed that whole hoax theory.”

“Oh, the patterns are very real, but it is most definitely a hoax. But then again, you already know that don’t you James?”

He looked at her with confusion.

“I have to say, leaving Mulder that book, it definitely helped your cause, but you left too big of a clue in it.”

“Really? And what exactly was that?”

Taking the book from his hand, Belle pulled the pages revealing the inside back cover. “This residue on the back of the book.  There was something familiar about the shape of it, and then it hit me. That’s where the library checkout card and pocket use to be.”

Stone faced he looked at the page, not revealing what was going on in his head.

“Most libraries they have switched to a more electronic form, but one of the charms of these little country towns, is that they still use this paper form.”

“So it’s a library book, I don’t see how that ties to me?”

“Well it doesn’t, not exactly. See I called a few of the local towns libraries to see if anyone had checked out this book, and the thing is that it really isn’t that much in demand. Not a real page turner I guess. All the libraries I called didn’t carry it, all for one that is, the library in Elgin.

“R...Really…” James stammered.  

“Yes, isn’t that a coincidence, as I recall you told me you use to live there. And funny enough the one copy that the library had was actually stolen from the stacks. I mean can you believe that. Someone actually stole this book, removed the card and pocket holder, and possibly used it as inspiration to form the patterns in the field, and then it somehow ended up at the doorstep of Mulder and I. The only two people in this town determined to prove it wasn’t a hoax.”

“I have never seen that book before,” James retorted.

“You weren’t expecting someone to confess to it being a hoax did you, James. The media, the attention was dying down, and you couldn’t allow that to happen, could you? So you left this book for me and Mulder so we would verify these crop circles. Bring attention back to Lochdubh; scream to the heavens, that it wasn’t a hoax but that the crop circles were still a mystery.”

“So if I am somehow causing these crop circles, have you forgotten the lights the people have seen over the lake, let me guess I’m somehow magically causing those as well?”

“Actually yes, you are. When Mulder and I went to the library, we were able to pull your library account, and imagine my surprise, when I saw that over the last 6 months, you had checked out quite a few books on drones.” As Belle continued to talk, the bathroom door opened, as Mulder and Hamish emerged into the room, both men holding drones in their hands.

“Where in the hell….how in the hell did you get those?” James blared out, seeing the familiar machines.

“Unofficially,” Mulder spoke. “While Belle here was so kind as to agree to take you to breakfast this morning, and keep you…occupied…I happened to break into your apartment, and find them in your guest closet, but officially….”

“Officially...” Hamish smirked, “I happened to be walking by your apartment, and could have sworn I heard a baby in distress in your apartment. So I had no choice but to break down the door, and found these drones, as well as these…” Hamish threw down a folder full of pictures and research on crop circles onto the bed, “in plain sight.”

“You won’t get away this, you can’t get away this.” James barked.

“Can and have,” Hamish quipped.

Bristling James sat down on the bed, bringing his hands to his face. “How can you stand to live here?”

His question was met with silence, and soon James walls came crashing down, as he confessed to the three of them. He spoke about learning of his father’s illness a year ago, and the stipulation his father was putting in his will about how James would receive the house, and storefront in Lochdubh, on the condition that he live there.

“Even in death, he tried to control my life. He couldn’t stand the fact, that I left this town when I was 18 and never looked back. So he forced me to come back here, leave Elgin, and live here, in this pathetic town where nothing happens! Do you have any idea how many people visit Stonehenge in a year? How much money that town makes on tourists?”

“So you wanted to make Lochdubh a tourist trap?” Hamish asked appalled.

“The entire town would have benefited from it. Millions of people coming in spending money on lodging, food, and souvenirs; busses coming to the town…it would be…”

“Awful,” Hamish piped in.

“Beautiful,” James countered. “We could all be rich.”

“So you cooked up this crop circle scheme just to get Lochdubh on the map?” Mulder inquired.

“I used the drones to make the patterns in the field. I copied the symbols I found in that book.”

“So the lights that the town people saw were…”

“The drones flying over the lake, as I positioned them.” James confessed. “The mist and moisture over the lake caused a distortion of the lights making them seem grander then what it really was.”

“Sounds like the mystery has been solved,” Mulder turned to Belle.

Sneering at Belle, James spoke. “So I take it our dinner date is off?”

Hamish moved next to Belle, placing his arm around her waist.

“Sorry mate, she’s already got plans.”

X

Mulder placed his last bag in the boot of his car. Turning he smiled, as Belle wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Have a safe flight back.”

“I will.”

Letting go, Mulder couldn’t help notice the natural glow of love surrounding her.

“So I hear the bureau already contacted you about another case.”

Nodding Belle smiled. “Yeah, I told them I was taking an extended vacation, but when they doubled my price, I was amendable to work on it…remotely of course. For being such a small town, this place has an amazing Wi-Fi connection.”

Turning his attention to Hamish, Mulder gave him a stern look.

“You better take care of her.”

“Aye, I promise.” Hamish smiled a toothy grin, bringing his arm around Belle shoulder.

Circling the car, Mulder smiled as he passed the two new headlights. As he pulled out of Lochdubh, the last glance he saw in his rearview mirror was Hamish and Belle kissing.

X

One Year Later

“Okay we can leave the 18th and return on the 25th,” Scully spoke looking at the airlines website. Hearing no response she looked up over the computer to see Mulder smiling, as he twirled Belle and Hamish’s wedding invitation in his hand.

“It’s amazing to think this happened because of me.”

“I’m pretty sure the court records show that everything happened because of James Spencer,” Scully scoffed.

“You know what I mean, she would never have been there, and met him, if I didn’t decide to go there.”

“Well as I recall, it was my phone call and my favor that had Belle heading for Lochdubh.” Scully raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

Raising his hands, Mulder smirked conceding to his partner. “Alright, alright, we both had something to do with the two of them getting together.”

“Next thing you know you’ll be asking them to name their first born after you,” Scully scoffed.

“Well now that you mention it…”

“You’re unbelievable, Mulder.”

“What? Having another Fox Mulder in the world wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Well, I did hear that they are thinking of getting a dog,” Scully smirked.

[talk-turned-2-screams]

story time!

So I was in a terrible accident back in May and I need people to know about it. I just want people to be aware and I want them to learn from my mistake.

I was on my way back from my last creative writing class for the semester and I got onto the freeway no problem but I wasn’t going straight home. My cousin and I had planned to watch Star Wars together that day (it was a Monday). I was looking forward to it too.

Anyways, its a two lane highway and I was in a downhill portion when I put cruise control on (which is important later and isn’t something I would normally do). So here I am going 80 down a slight hill and I’m not in control over the speed, the car is. I reach for my phone (next piece of the puzzle) which is in a clip on my dash board. I bring up my maps but I can’t remember my cousins address so I just look up the road that gets me there (I can remember once I get to a place but just getting to this street is complicated from where I was).

So I’m looking down typing in this street name with my right hand and my left hand controlling the wheel when I hear this gravel/pebble sound. I look up and see that the left side of my car wasn’t on the pavement anymore. Naturally, I go “oh shit” and tried to correct, but this is where physics was playing against me. 

If you remember, I said earlier that cruise control was on around 80 mph, and once my tires hit the gravel my car slowed down (due to the extra friction and lack of traction on the loose rocks). When the cruise is engaged, the car automatically accelerates when it slows down below the set speed. As I tried to correct, the car was accelerating onto the pavement, and as soon as the tires got some semblance of traction they spun out. I was sent into a sliding spin and I thought I was going to get hit by the cars behind me, but I was so beyond wrong.

I was in the left lane facing the proper direction, and now I was spinning and I crossed into the right lane looking at the cars coming at me (there weren’t very many cause 1. small town I was leaving and 2. it was 3:45 in the afternoon on the Monday after Mother’s Day). I’ve been pressing the brake trying to stop myself when I realize that my car wasn’t stopping. I was trying to gain control but then I see this curb. And this curb is kind of shaped like a ramp. It’s about 12 inches tall and angled. Wanna know what that curb was doing? Well I’ll tell you. 

It’s there to keep cars from GOING DOWN A 200 FOOT HILL.

Now where was I… Oh ya. Okay so I go over this curb. 

Ya you read that right. I went over. And as soon as I hit this curb I felt nothing. I mean I literally felt the jarring of my little acura hitting the curb. But after that I didn’t see or hear or feel anything. At the time, I had no idea I had passed out and I had told paramedics later that I was conscious the entire time (I don’t think they believed me). 

Every thing was dark and empty but I was trapped in my mind thinking. These thoughts were how I knew I wasn’t dead. And boy did I think I was going to die. I was actually waiting for the light to go out in my mind, for the thoughts to cease, for my memories to stop streaming. The singular thought I distinctly remember was, Are these thoughts going to stop? I couldn’t help it. There is no way someone walks away from this type of accident. Let alone the way I did. 

I knew there was something special when I woke up and my car engine was still running. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. I noticed that my radio was still playing. So my phone wasn’t broken. And it was within range of the bluetooth but I couldn’t find it. I think “Daddy lessons” Beyonce with the Dixie Chicks was still playing and it had been playing before I went over so I knew that less than 6 minutes had passed (this is how I gauge time). I saw smoke (it was from the airbags deploying) so I turned the car off immediately. 

That’s when I just look at my door. There is no way this door was going to open, yet when I pulled the handle it swung right open. And the first thing I see is the Red Deluxe album booklet on the ground and that’s when I started crying. 

Not because I felt any physical pain, but because I thought I lost all of my CDs in the crash. Later I found that EVERY SINGLE TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM I HAD IN MY CAR WERE PERFECTLY FINE (minus a few scratches and some dirt) 

So here I am sitting on the ground in tears hugging a small booklet to my chest. I end up not being able to find my phone but I find my broken glasses (which I had just gotten the month before) and I honestly was like wow I didn’t even think about my glasses when I got out of the car. I just screamed “Help me please! Anyone!” Back in March I bought an Apple Watch and everyone I knew was saying it was a waste of money, but I beg to differ because that day it was my one connection to my family and any help. I called my dad and couldn’t control my sobbing as soon as I heard his voice. My watch was on my left wrist and as I was looking at the screen I noticed my thumb was numb and totally swollen. I thought it was broken (and I was like my no broken bone streak has come to an end). I was still able to move it and it wasn’t a splitting pain, but it was significant and I knew that if there wasn’t so much adrenaline in my system it would hurt even more. I couldn’t wait to actually get off the ground and get everything checked out.

I tried to stand up to see around me a little better (kind of hard without my glasses), but that’s when I got extremely nauseous and my vision started fading to black. I sat back down and tried to calm my breathing while talking to both of my parents and that’s when I hear this voice from the other side of the wreck and I thought, Wow the paramedics are here already? But I later learned that this beautiful soul had stopped after he saw everything happen in his rear view mirror and called 911. He slid down this hill (which was covered in poison ivy) to help me. I was able to find out who he was and thank him for taking the time to be such a good samaritan. There was something in the way he spoke that calmed me and I was able to stop my sobbing breathes.

When the actual paramedics showed up I was unable to see clearly. Everything was a very bright shade green like someone turned up the contrast all over. And then that faded to bright magenta (which isn’t even a naturally occurring color and is the absence of green) I was scared cause I didn’t think I would ever see normal colors again. But I stood up with the assistance of a firefighter and he brought me around the car once they cleared the branches and debris. I started asking questions about what was going to happen. And then of course me being me, I say, “I know this sounds materialistic but will I be able to get my stuff?” Thankfully, the guy was super sweet and he said once they get it towed and to the junk yard I will be able to get into the car and get anything I needed/wanted. I just went thank God. 

I wasn’t able to walk back up the hill. Physically it would have exhausted my body even further, and I didn’t need that. Plus I was in my Taylor Swift sneaky cat Keds and I wasn’t about to ruin those. There was this basket that they were gonna put me in to bring me up this hill. Before we started up the hill they asked if there was anything that I wanted right now out of the car. I said my phone, my purse and at the last second the cross that was hanging on the rear view mirror. I clung to that cross like it was my one thing tethering me to life. (I was nowhere near death but like still) 

They had to put me in this annoying ass collar which prevented me from moving my neck. They said it was because of the nature of the accident (because the car flipped and rolled) and they didn’t take it off till the cat scan was clear of spinal trauma. I found out later from my chiropractor that whiplash did occur but it wasn’t enough to raise any red flags. So I’m in the ambulance and I have to get an IV and I was so scared and my aunt and uncle were already at the scene following us in their car. I was so beyond the physical trauma cause all I could think was what they were gonna say or how they were going to react. I felt like I let them down somehow which I know is ridiculous but I couldn’t help it. 

SO… I get to the hospital they do a bunch of tests and then comes the worst part. I HAVE TO USE A FUCKING BEDPAN! They had to check to make sure all my internal organs were working or some shit. But I don’t have to fucking pee. plus I am toilet trained (duh) and I wasn’t about to pee in bed. The thing was I wasn’t allowed to drink or eat or get up because I had that stupid collar on and they hadn’t finished looking at the cat scan yet. So THANK GOD my nurse was awesome and just let me wait till the test was done. I was fine just a little dehydrated. 

Another nurse lent me her phone charger which was awesome. I was gonna watch tv but I couldn’t see the screen cause I didn’t have my glasses. Honestly it was the most boring 4 hours of my life. My parents and aunt and uncle were all in the room around dinner time and I was just so ready to go home and sleep. I was discharged and I was like can we get my things out of the car.

There was a fee to get in after hours but I had a laptop and other things that I didn’t want to leave overnight. So we get to the car and my mother is bawling her eyes out which I just wanted her to stay in the car but nooo she had to just be right beside me (I understood why she was reacting the way she did but I wish she would tone down her emotions in public). 

But I mean this is what we saw walking up and it doesn’t do it any justice so it makes sense she was emotional.

So we are trying to get things out of the car and there’s glass and the doors won’t open because they had to use two tow trucks to bring it up the hill and they probably had to squish things down. I’m just trying to find things and I had books and my backpack and a suitcase cause I had just come back from visiting my parents the night before and I hadn’t taken it out yet. As I’m going through my suitcase, I notice that it’s unzipped and one half is completely empty. That’s when I start flipping out cause my stuffed animal (the one I’ve had since I was 1 that I got from my late nonni) is nowhere to be found. I’m flipping out and my mom is on the other side asking what what’s wrong? Two seconds later I’m fine cause I checked the other side and low and behold she’s right there. Meow was in my arms the rest of the night and I haven’t been able to sleep without her since. I got almost everything out of the car (I even got the radio I installed). My laptop wasn’t in the car cause it got thrown from a window during the crash.

We get a call after we leave from the tow truck driver and he says he found the laptop in the manager’s office so we go back and get it. It doesn’t work cause it was THROWN FROM A FUCKING CAR (I got it to work for about a month before the logic board decided to die and I have yet to get a new one).

I get home and I just want to sleep but I needed a shower and I felt helpless cause everyone was helping me do things and I just wanted to do things on my own. I had band-aids and painkillers and an ace bandage on my left thumb and wrist to help with the sprain. I wanted sleep. I was nauseous.

As soon as I put my head on my pillow and closed my eyes, I was spinning. My head, my room, my stomach. Everything. I didn’t know what was going on and my eyes shot open. I was breathing heavily. That’s when I realized my body remembered spinning and flipping, but my brain didn’t. I was scared to sleep, and I didn’t know if I was going to get any rest.

I did get sleep, but when I woke up the next morning I felt like my entire body was a bruise. And for good reason. I went through something no one should live through let alone barely injured. The full extent of my injuries was a couple of bruises, a scrape on the inside of my left arm (which is now a scar) and glass pockmarks (which left a couple of dark spots). I had a couple of mosquito bites on my shoulders, and I still can’t believe I had no broken bones.

I know some people may think how are you here? and my only answer that makes sense is I had a guardian angel. I had someone looking out for me. There was actually a distinct space around me where the car did not cave in.

And here’s my reasoning behind this: There was actually a distinct space around me where the car did not cave in. this picture is looking from the passenger side towards the drivers side.

There is a rounded part by the gaping hole in the windshield that you can see. There where my head was. I also had no pain or bruises from the seatbelt and my legs were not injured or in pain at all.

There was something or someone that put this shroud of protection and I just cannot be more grateful for this second chance at life. I am not going to take my life for granted and I want other people to know that things are hard, but there are those that love and care and sometimes it takes a jarring life or death event to make us realize that.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT SOMEONE

I'd prefer it. But broadcasting isn't publishing: you're not selling a copy of something.1 In almost every domain there are advantages to serendipity too, especially early in life. I was writing this article.2 In fact, faces seem to have felt the same before they started Yahoo. Instead start with the problem you're solving, and the reason most don't is that they probably will, one day.3 There's no concept of office hours in most startups. In a real essay you're writing for yourself. If you start a startup with no idea at all. Words that occur disproportionately rarely in spam like though or tonight or apparently contribute as much to decreasing the probability as bad words like unsubscribe and opt-in do to increasing it.4

How formidable you seem isn't a constant. That may sound like a bizarre idea, but they are still missing a few things, like intro it to my friends at Foundry who were investors in Service Metrics and understand this model I am also talking to my friend Mark Pincus who had an idea like this a few years before starting their own. Airbed team-Are you still in NYC? Something about hacker culture that never really set well with me was this—the nastiness. But I took so many CS classes that most CS majors thought I was being very clever, but I found that the Bayesian filter did the same thing, setting up a separate place to hold the accumulator; it's just a whirl of names and dates. Some of the greatest masters go on to start a startup, you have to get up from your computer and go find some. Don't believe what you're supposed to. Which is a problem if you don't find it.5 The time was then ripe for the question: if the study of ancient texts was still the backbone of the curriculum.6 And it's not fun for a smart person to work in a fight, because fights are not sufficiently general.7

The challenge is whether we can keep things this way.8 They would make an investor's money go a long way.9 This is a good deal of fighting in being the public face of an organization. Smack! The url is in such cases practically enough by itself to determine whether the email is spam. But that prescription, though sufficient, is too narrow. In fact, let's make it an RFS. So by protecting their kids from risk, parents are, without realizing it, also protecting them from rewards. But most companies do more mundane stuff where the decisive factor is effort, not brains. Each one is progressively more like Lisp.10

So the main value of whatever you launch with is as a pretext for engaging users. It always seemed to me an important point, and I said to him, ho, ho, ho, you're confusing theory with practice, this eval is intended for reading, not for computing.11 01 graham 0. The success rate would be 90%. The especially observant will notice that while I consider each corpus to be a good writer, any more than it makes sense to ask a 3 year old how he plans to support himself. It's unlikely you could make great things. I changed that part? We've funded two single founders, but in different enough words that no one could tell. If you start with a promising question and get nowhere. Her nickname within YC was the Social Radar.

It may also be ready to start that startup. But you can do whatever you want, you can trick yourself into looking like a freak, you can also get into Foobar State. Certainly some rejected Google. So let me tell you what to focus on just two goals: a explain what you're doing, and b explain why users will want it. Checkers and solitaire have been replaced by World of Warcraft and FarmVille. Don't talk and drive. More often than not it makes it harder. Second order issues like competitors or resumes should be single slides you go through quickly at the end, after you've made it clear what you've built. Having gotten it down to 13 sentences, I asked myself which I'd choose if I could only keep one.

Even if you could count on investors being interested even if you're producing it unknowingly.12 But they weren't, and it's unclear whether anyone could be. In fact, it doesn't matter if you paint at all. But in text that's not the problem you're solving, and then advertised this as a checklist to examine their own feelings. When you first try skiing and you want to build great things, you find a lot that began with someone pounding out a prototype in a week or two of nonstop work.13 That's incremented by, not plus. It won't stop patent trolls, for example. The success rate would be 90%. Surprises are things that can be incrementally expanded into the whole project, and then simply tell investors so.

Notes

There are situations in which case immediate problem solved, or grow slowly tend not to say Hey, that's the situation you find known boring ideas intolerable. In practice you can help in that water a while we have to admit there's no other word that came to mind was one cause of poverty are only pretending to in order to avoid variable capture and multiple evaluation; Hart's examples are subject to both.

I think the company is common, to take math classes intended for math majors. Perhaps it would have started there. The reason is that they've already decided what they're building takes so long to send them the final version that by the government. There is one of the breach with Rome, his zeal in crushing the Pilgrimage of Grace, and owns significant equity in it, by encouraging them to be recognized as an expert—which is as straightforward as building a new business designed for us to see artifacts from it.

On the other people in return for something they get for free. 27 with the amount—maybe around 10 people.

There are fields now in which practicing talks makes them overbuild: they'll create huge, overcomplicated agreements, and there didn't seem to be like a month grew at 1.

Now many tech companies don't want to learn more about hunter gatherers I strongly recommend Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's The Harmless People and The CRM114 Discriminator. Internally most companies are also exempt. Is what we need to go out running or sit home and watch TV, go talk to an investor, the average startup.

But that turned out to be able to hire a lot better. In a country, the less educated parents seem closer to what used to hear about the idea.

And in any case, not bogus. When I was there when it converts you get, the partners discriminate against deals that come to them rather than giving grants.

Of the two, I'd appreciate hearing from you. But it's dangerous to have fun in this they're perfect. The reason Y Combinator was a kid was an assiduous courtier of the things Julian gave us. I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, will be near-spams that you could build products as good ones, and partly simple ignorance.

I asked some founders who'd taken series A from a company's revenues as the little jars in supermarkets. Beware too of the randomness is concealed by the surface similarities. You owe them such updates on your cap table, and all the mistakes you made. A scientist isn't committed to is following the evidence wherever it leads.

Median may be overpaid. One YC founder told me: One year at Startup School David Heinemeier Hansson encouraged programmers who would never come back; Apple probably wouldn't even cover the extra cost. Philosophy is like math's ne'er-do-well brother.

Maybe it would be critical to.

I read most things I remember the eyes of phone companies gleaming in the latter without also slowing the former. Again, hard work. If big companies can even be conscious of this policy may be a niche within a niche within a few of the word procrastination to describe what they built, they very often come back. So starting as a motive, and that most three letter words are independent, and so effective that I'm skeptical whether economic inequality to turn Buffalo into a big deal.

Com. While certain famous Internet stocks were almost certainly overvalued in 1999, it will probably not do this with prices too, of course, that good art is brand, and this is to imagine how an investor derives mostly from looking for something they wanted, so had a big deal. It will require more than serving as examples of how you spent all your time working on Viaweb. There is a down round, no one would have turned out to be careful.

[ladmob]

Conor McGregor Is the Devil’s Son

For more , Please view ---> www.LADmob.com

Conor McGregor Is the Devil’s Son

Last week’s miserable series of press conferences closed the distance between the blowhard McGregor pretends to be when he needs to sell something and the shameful human Floyd Mayweather continues to be every day.

  Big L is one of the greatest rappers – maybe the greatest of all – to pick up a microphone. Murdered before his 25th birthday, he only lived long enough to see a single full-length release; you can listen to his entire discography in the span of a few hours. But even in the grimiest, gun-happiest days of mid-1990s gangster rap, the Harlem emcee born Lamont Coleman distinguished his rhymes about violence, money, and drugs through cadence, word play, and cutting one-liners. He was in his finest form on “Devil’s Son,” an over-the-top ode to murder, rape, and pistol-whipping priests. The live version hits even harder: “I was a child runnin’ wild like a goose chase/Punish my dad I put poison in his toothpaste/Then I picked my infant sister up, gave her a quick spank/Then I dropped that little bitch in the fish tank.”

Absurd as those lyrics are, UFC lightweight champion Conor McGregor had them beat with the sustained animosity he showed toward Floyd Mayweather on last week’s four-date international tour for their August 26 pay-per-view cash grab. In Los Angeles, McGregor wore a David August suit with fuck-yous sewn into the pin stripes. In Toronto, he screamed at Showtime Sports executive Stephen Espinoza (“Look at you, you little fucking weasel!”), and he dug in further on Mayweather’s tax troubles. (Mayweather: “I do numbers, I make money.” McGregor: “You owe money.”) In Brooklyn, everything about McGregor except for pants that looked like 19th-century wallpaper was fucking awful: he gave entry-level shout-outs to Biggie and Jay-Z, said dumb shit about being “half-black… from the belly button down,” and the reality-show-season-57 blandness that seeps in when you hold three “press” conferences in a row without anyone asking a goddamn question became all too clear. In London, the thing came to a merciful end with McGregor regaining some semblance of form and, thanks to Mayweather’s flights of homophobia and misogyny, coming out looking like the hero of this farcical pugilistic fairytale.

  Tiresome as it was, it was a fun time – in a deranged, masochistic sort of way – with many threats of bodily harm, flag hurling, awkwardly long stare downs, spectators crowning the “winner” of each press conference based on whose verbal abuse seemed less scripted, and the principals redirecting their own gnawing insecurities re: money, fame, likeability, fighting style, and prospects of victory into headline- and video-package-ready soundbites.

But the best part was how the mainstream-ness of the whole traveling carnival translated to cable sports TV bullshit. “This was a rap diss show,” said Fox Sports 1’s Jason Whitlock of the LA presser on the first night. “This is gangster rap moved to the sports lane, moved into boxing.” (“It’s like Papa Doc and Eminem in 8 Mile, right?” said co-host Kristine Leahy, as I put a razor blade to my wrist.)

The gist of Whitlock’s argument – which I guarantee he thought of on air between breaths – was weird as well as self-contradicting. One the one hand, he said the shit-talk during the Mayweather-McGregor pressers could leech into how NFL players hype up games, and that the eff-bombs at the first event were the nadir of fight hype. “This is unprecedented for boxing,” he said. (Uh, remember that press conference when Mike Tyson said, “I’ll fuck you ’til you love me, faggot”?) On the other, he said no one should get sanctimonious about the tenor of that shit-talk because it’s the inevitable outcome of boxing’s history of insults and race baiting. “We have emptied out the trailer park and the hood and put them in a ring together, and we’re about to witness a culture clash and a culmination of a path we’ve been on for years.”

Whitlock’s argument is amazing both because it sounds apocalyptic and it sets up a straw man just to knock it down. Like, is anyone actually concerned that this press conference might set a bad example for the NFL, when a bigger problem might be people like a quarterback who threw his testicles onto a female athletic trainer’s face back in college, then spent his entire career convincing us that he was the apple-pie-eating-est motherfucker to win a Superbowl ring?

  But last week’s miserable series of press conferences closed the distance between the blowhard McGregor pretends to be when he needs to sell something and the shameful human Floyd Mayweather, Jr., continues to be every day. Most people who’ve spent time with McGregor say he dials down the volume in private and, outlandish sartorial tastes and threats of running over a reporter who wouldn’t let him see a story before publication notwithstanding, is a humble guy, proud father, and devoted to the mother of his son. True: telling Mayweather “dance for me boy” was gross and quasi-racist, dedicating a few coital thrusts to his “beautiful black female fans” was like Trump eating a taco bowl and tweeting “I love Hispanics,” and the clean up at the media scrum afterward didn’t erase the stain of ugly jokes that wouldn’t pass muster on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.

But without pardoning McGregor, remember that the goon he plays on TV perpetrated that over-the-line buffoonery in a played-out format where he had to fill dead air. He never assaulted the mother of his children while they watched, faced 90 days in jail as a result, and later opened a strip club called Girl Collection. And he didn’t call his opponent a faggot in London like that’s an okay slur to wield in public.

Another downside is that the episodes of let’s-just-fight-right-now jawing at each other wore thin even before they showed up in LA. Mayweather and McGregor didn’t fight each other at the press conferences not because of the bodyguards onstage, or any vestigial nod to professionalism. It was because why the fuck would you give away the spectacle you’re trying to sell in August? Some estimates expect Mayweather-McGregor to clear 4.8 million pay-per-view buys and gross $500 million. This is life-changing money for McGregor and, with a big tax bill due, lifestyle-saving money for Mayweather. Decades after this fight is done, they will greet each other with open arms and warm words, thinking about all the cash they earned back when they pretended to hate each other.

Big L didn’t actually kill his parents and his baby sister. Those who knew him remember a quiet Lamont Coleman at odds with his trigger-happy alter ego. Similarly, if the most memorable combat sports athletes aren’t also method actors, they at least know how to build compelling characters through expression. Vulgar insults make for a reliable script, and so does the me-against-the-world story McGregor tells himself. “Showtime and all these, they’re trying to set me up,” he said in Toronto. “They’re trying to catch me off-guard, they’re trying to put me in these uncomfortable situations. But little do they know, I thrive in uncomfortable situations.”

By the third day, when they ran out of gas, watching Mayweather and McGregor yell at each other was hell. But when you’re the devil’s son, that’s not a bad place to be.

  via

[flauntpage]

Conor McGregor Is the Devil’s Son

Big L is one of the greatest rappers—maybe the greatest of all—to pick up a microphone. Murdered before his 25th birthday, he only lived long enough to see a single full-length release; you can listen to his entire discography in the span of a few hours. But even in the grimiest, gun-happiest days of mid-1990s gangster rap, the Harlem emcee born Lamont Coleman distinguished his rhymes about violence, money, and drugs through cadence, word play, and cutting one-liners. He was in his finest form on "Devil's Son," an over-the-top ode to murder, rape, and pistol-whipping priests. The live version hits even harder: "I was a child runnin' wild like a goose chase/Punish my dad I put poison in his toothpaste/Then I picked my infant sister up, gave her a quick spank/Then I dropped that little bitch in the fish tank."

Absurd as those lyrics are, UFC lightweight champion Conor McGregor had them beat with the sustained animosity he showed toward Floyd Mayweather, on last week's four-date international tour for their August 26 pay-per-view cash grab. In Los Angeles, McGregor wore a David August suit with fuck-yous sewn into the pin stripes. In Toronto, he screamed at Showtime Sports executive Stephen Espinoza ("Look at you, you little fucking weasel!"), and he dug in further on Mayweather's tax troubles. (Mayweather: "I do numbers, I make money." McGregor: "You owe money.") In Brooklyn, everything about McGregor except for pants that looked like 19 th-century wallpaper was fucking awful: he gave entry-level shout-outs to Biggie and Jay-Z, said dumb shit about being "half-black…from the belly button down," and the reality-show-season-57 blandness that seeps in when you hold three "press" conferences in row without anyone asking a goddamn question became all too clear. In London, the thing came to a merciful end with McGregor regaining some semblance of form and, thanks to Mayweather's flights of homophobia and misogyny, coming out looking like the hero of this farcical pugilistic fairytale.

Photo by Noah K. Murray-USA TODAY Sports

Tiresome as it was, it was a fun time—in a deranged, masochistic sort of way—with many threats of bodily harm, flag hurling, awkwardly long stare downs, spectators crowning the "winner" of each press conference based on whose verbal abuse seemed less scripted, and the principals redirecting their own gnawing insecurities re: money, fame, likeability, fighting style, and prospects of victory into headline- and video-package-ready sound bites. But the best part was how the mainstream-ness of the whole traveling carnival translated to cable sports TV bullshit. "This was a rap diss show," said Fox Sports 1's Jason Whitlock of the LA presser on the first night. "This is gangster rap moved to the sports lane, moved into boxing." ("It's like Papa Doc and Eminem in 8 Mile, right?" said co-host Kristine Leahy, as I put a razor blade to my wrist.)

The gist of Whitlock's argument—which I guarantee he thought of on air between breaths—was weird as well as self-contradicting. One the one hand, he said the shit-talk during the Mayweather-McGregor pressers could leech into how NFL players hype up games, and that the eff-bombs at the first event were the nadir of fight hype. "This is unprecedented for boxing," he said. (Uh, remember that press conference when Mike Tyson said, "I'll fuck you 'til you love me faggot"?) On the other, he said no one should get sanctimonious about the tenor of that shit-talk because it's the inevitable outcome of boxing's history of insults and race baiting. "We have emptied out the trailer park and the hood and put them in a ring together, and we're about to witness a culture clash and a culmination of a path we've been on for years."

Whitlock's argument is amazing both because it sounds apocalyptic and it sets up a straw man just to knock it down. Like, is anyone actually concerned that this press conference might set a bad example for the NFL, when a bigger problem might be people like a quarterback who threw his testicles onto a female athletic trainer's face back in college, then spent his entire career convincing us that he was the apple-pie-eating-est motherfucker to win a Superbowl ring?

Photo by Tom Szczerbowski-USA TODAY Sports

But last week's miserable series of press conferences closed the distance between the blowhard McGregor pretends to be when he needs to sell something and the shameful human Floyd Mayweather, Jr., continues to be every day. Most people who've spent time with McGregor say he dials down the volume in private and, outlandish sartorial tastes and threats of running over a reporter who wouldn't let him see a story before publication notwithstanding, is a humble guy, proud father, and devoted to the mother of his son. True: telling Mayweather "dance for me boy" was gross and quasi-racist, dedicating a few coital thrusts to his "beautiful black female fans" was like Trump eating a taco bowl and tweeting "I love Hispanics," and the clean up at the media scrum afterward didn't erase the stain of ugly jokes that wouldn't pass muster on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.

But without pardoning McGregor, remember that the goon he plays on TV perpetrated that over-the-line buffoonery in a played-out format where he had to fill dead air. He never assaulted the mother of his children while they watched, faced 90 days in jail as a result, and later opened a strip club called Girl Collection. And he didn't call his opponent a faggot in London like that's an okay slur to wield in public.

Another downside is that the episodes of let's-just-fight-right-now jawing at each other wore thin even before they showed up in LA. Mayweather and McGregor didn't fight each other at the press conferences not because of the bodyguards onstage, or any vestigial nod to professionalism. It was because why the fuck would you give away the spectacle you're trying to sell in August? Some estimates expect Mayweather-McGregor to clear 4.8 million pay-per-view buys and gross $500 million. This is life-changing money for McGregor and, with a big tax bill due, lifestyle-saving money for Mayweather. Decades after this fight is done, they will greet each other with open arms and warm words, thinking about all the cash they earned back when they pretended to hate each other.

Big L didn't actually kill his parents and his baby sister. Those who knew him remember a quiet Lamont Coleman at odds with his trigger-happy alter ego. Similarly, if the most memorable combat sports athletes aren't also method actors, they at least know how to build compelling characters through expression. Vulgar insults make for a reliable script, and so does the me-against-the-world story McGregor tells himself. "Showtime and all these, they're trying to set me up," he said in Toronto. "They're trying to catch me off-guard, they're trying to put me in these uncomfortable situations. But little do they know, I thrive in uncomfortable situations."

By the third day, when they ran out of gas, watching Mayweather and McGregor yell at each other was hell. But when you're the devil's son, that's not a bad place to be.

Conor McGregor Is the Devil’s Son published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[1taiwan-blog]

why Messiah was used? only brains can move is he was a pop star and rich followed him as Jesus his ex dead daddy and younger brother or family pets HE types! be Catholics to worship! Messiah was followed and appeared in Buddhism meaning Buddhism was after Messiah. generally, it's called Herstory per religion claims to find Messiah! so messed, Buddhism says they have messiah the GOD and the Buddha but why did they kill Christians?? no one found Messiah and Messiah ignored dame Christians got Buddhists killed them 這世代！過去含未來。無人敢稱彌賽亞為義！ 沒有了彌賽亞教會或現彌賽亞教徒。 猶太人永遠不相謀，耶穌是基督。 耶穌教徒 基督教徒 彌賽亞教徒 神說，耶和華們創世。 但是耶和華們皆非真神。是外星人！ GOD and BIBLE say, Jehovahss they created for the one real true and truth GOD! Jehovahss are or were ET ETS Aliens. None of them is or was GOD my invocation is who no one says they're not fake Christians but the Messianic MESSIAHISTS?? 假基督教徒 與 真彌賽亞教徒！！ 天主教會崇拜耶和華家人，卻以教皇為謊！！ 基督的弟弟的子嗣在哪？？ 基督木匠兄妹父親的遺族在哪？ 神隨隨便便撿破爛拾起一條狗狗嗎？ 鄰居怒了！7萬箱「蝦味先」棄空地　日曬雨淋飄惡臭 | 三立 無奈？？ 對岸判唯一死刑！ 賭贏40萬美金回台　入境沒收38萬 my Benediction is ETS are your Gods, Buddhas but no one is the real God my Benediction is ETS are your Gods or Buddhas but no one! None of them is the real God. this explains why he didn't go to Taichung miss mission and whoever came here to take photo of me and the neighbor Mission Office for Allah and he did make TPE Temple this trash shows you the Mormonism whispering is as fake as Chian in meditation Buddhism both buy HE types! the ET ETS Aliens garbage. see me is enough 【佛說：愛了，是續寫前世故事。恨了，是了卻前塵仇怨】 Thus, both Buddhism and BIBLE force people to hate 紅塵中，一個捨不得，耽誤了多少人； 佛法中，一句無所得，難倒了多少人。 they knew they were grass bums and they can do is to memorize TV to hand scripts for them to act on talking shows to live it's only because all 4 of them wanna be nuns mayor to sacrifice under KMTers my invocation is you must know it's awesome to experience been or be proposed 曾被譽「怪物右腕」…少年投手患性早熟　走過創傷更愛棒球 | 三立新聞網 | of course they had tried CN medicine but they needed the real not fake one and NHK is non profit to be very evil to service fake governments and when you still watch pokemon through digital and many different local Japanese channels offer quiet vary local TV commercials not as Taiwan's kids programs have non kids targeting advertisement for giant markets the Lunar's going to be JU Jun 6-26 6-27 6-28 6-29. then back to twin 6-01. 6-02 not only for funeral the traditional wedding has to be like Taiwan Nation had their wedding last Sunday as all black sedens and Twitter blue wedding dress 【18禁】4男女在沙灘上活春宮　眾人興奮圍觀 | 即時新聞 | 20170708 | 蘋果日報 True! USA My BENEDICTION is hello! welcome to GHOSTS worldwide who does not know? she speaks as Sam as Saudi Saffiyah when she isn't often to see GODS inside Temples this idol gets my face after Lin died Lotus had no ghosts business although you suspected to assume her disciple Lin who stopped tankers construction but the temple never ask her to restart Lin generations old business besides my disciple who goes to the root temple once per year and she was asked to be in charge of as the President if the owning couple will be gone and the business card is their wardrobe which Allah wears again today and she was so so so happy that I'd prepared my wardrobe like we all did twin weeks ago she's yellow and we met last year's before pink face king GOD of foxconn theirs she started to dream of me ten day before Red Sea Foxconn birthday and the banquet is always seven days and three more days at advance to come the first day she had seen Foxconn to come with bunch of GODS at her first time inside the temple. she was born by the second house next to the temple and she had never seen and Foxconn GOD and other GODS all told her those three days during daytime their GOD is coming to the city's she was my disciple and she worked with Lin thousand generations over ten years ago that Lin her eyes looked differently at old when her face is round and be no more scary 銀行員太正網友狂開戶　洋男友氣炸報警 Foreigner boyfriend is brain damaged 探訪樂視總部：門口躺滿討債人 旗艦店大門緊閉 Allah likes new iPhone and one finger or twin are not very proud that new of my oppo runs slower than mi but Mi is very bad to type as LG. Samsung Galaxy and all Samsung's no any damage but battery must die and who would spend for expensive batteries ? Maybe Allah will HTC died the worst design power control and fix for NTD 1k to above [新聞] NBA》搭上奪冠列車！林書豪前隊友加盟勇 but Nick Young has signed days early 5千年前就有巨人！　山東出土發現「高人族」 so sad， Bible Giants were so so so short (short) [新聞] 法國宣布在2040年取締汽油車和柴油車 I'm proposed and I said no too thick and Allah's still smart which we go to EU and French to buy twin cars before 2040 for made in 1996 then wait for brend bread new vehicles be swapping Trump must pass the Sam LAW and Allah will buy 20 x 1996. I'm showing you be kidding USA Founder always get many free why hate GOD? Allah I bless Japan and why hate GOD? my Benediction is JU Jun 6th was proposed and today's 7th has invocation at Love U! 最新》蔡英文到寺廟贈匾 反年改群眾抗議 駕駛擋路：or any colo has ghosts stars 超強生化武器　這種昆蟲每小時殺85人 here our products are we re do youth line Colo and Taylor's Swift's black ghosts stars and for comin next week's Closed God's is me birthday had pink face the pink Colo till ten days later with no more 7 mother GODS but 15 100 year old mother GODS Like the new oppo phone but it's under above twin new phones my brother's back has wings not fake Mormonism can you all possibly to wear her black ghosts stars shining Colo? I like my new purchased house and will move soon plus Allah got my family's new iPhone and new Mi and Allah doesn't like complicated MacBook laptops but Microsoft is dangerous for wanna cry and I use Apple tv for YouTube and Apple books for FacePhone UFOLine accounts. LINE beats Facebook is you don't need who are weirdly and Facebook users are peeking and tracking others and Twitter can have private line messages 2, never to disturb any use as LINE 3, long posts as LINE then Twitter by keywords are not trash as Facebook moon at cancer is bad for dark to enjoy very short minutes of selfishness. Sagittarius is better than Leo and Sagittarius is priority then Scorpio and Libra. my ascended is cancer, too. so I'M more is a cancer than a Libra. Venus is Virgo isn't bad but has to be a very hungry Virgo. forgot where's my mars but now Allah fights to win and build kingdoms totally Virgo is very very bad with Scorpio Allah hates Virgo the most! my moon is cancer (cancer) 96. Taiwanese be a HTC phone to beat all single EYETH cameras to win French international photo gallery and a KMTer to be a Mi its 4G or 3G 64 are much cheaper than OPPO but OPPO selfie to help to reality sells and he's an Asus when ghost used him to show YouTube closed caption is 18 better to believe than 17 evilness she complained wall street journal TV WSJ to drop Peter Jennings to live and arranged bold and ugly white meaning she's something doesn't PARTAKE humanitarian to advertise themselves again by cheating fans will stupid good bless? bless you to be fools to all sit morons to punish you and say you're sinners but DON'T pay GODS pay black ghosts fake pastors! last year the train station temple did send 7 gifts with orchestra to deer haven to plan and they had refused to take the saint medical word paper and when North Haven temple and New Haven temple to be around that they do refuse be joining!! they say their wood idol is the oldest in Formosa but the Tainun city's has been the official as national temple before Japanese LIN is called Tsunami Tsunamlin Da Hi is his Nick name by aboriginal word my Benediction is you can use my creation to image that we're only happy together about the university male student to dream a ten years old who was killed over ten years ago that the death she had been over few years to cross many spaces not for her to suffer to lose her memories by long DPP forces wash first eggs if you looked at me then simultaneously Allah looked back when you use eyes to call my or our food are ready then you got mute to try to ask why the supernatural power by Samsung's copy Samsung's and you must bow and offer free dish to Allah! or you saw we sat far then you walked out then the first isle you could see U.S. and Allah looked promptly you must no stop your heart minds brains to stop you to say marvelously and be directed to ask are you Allah?? the convenient store manager must ask how they were thrown or gave who or did food still be inside when no pay for pigs owner not till weeks later to check surveillance and they didn't ask them not to after the first scene which the store is guilty 7 is very weird because they don't want this happens which the most 7s refuse to offer and sell to pig owners to pay for pigs our okay USA had asked Allah was it o.k. to give to a mother but the problem was we could sell much much cheaper for still earing not to give by one was that mom would be only waited to get plus after midnight we must not give about one of possible nights it could be she got sick or she sued U.S.. even late night shift had to sign if they ate to get sick that we could be no guilty!! we did allow late night shift to share with their classmates but not for a regular mom or who didn't sign as you and strong.. the neighbor Hi life couple owed lots money and they never offered 60 percent off for the Sam day food although sometimes we did at early 4 P.M. or that day's morning to try to get rid of stuff and that couple just brought everything home!! even gym counter sometimes happened cash was short but how about they both moved hospital funds to their personal packets!!! 1, Buddhism isn't religion 2, when you are not 100 percent vegetarian you can force your dog's be 110 percent vegetarian. at noon there's a vegetarian dog who grows old and it still love US U.S. 3, KD is Klay Thompson's USD 2,500