#Burly Q

[travsd]

The Oeuvre of Leslie Zemeckis

In the spirit of our recent post on Marion Meade, we thought you’d use the occasion of Leslie Zemeckis’s natal day for a brief appreciation of, like, everything she’s ever done (with fervent hopes that, unlike Meade, she will live and produce many more cool works long after I hit the “publish” button.) We first became aware of Zemeckis via her first film, 2010’s terrific classic burlesque…

[rylikebread]

Gotta go split wood for the winter or we’ll never survive the cold 💪

Me and my cheap Big Brand™️ axe will meet you in the forest

[schlock-luster-video]

Remembering Burlesque star and cult film icon Blaze Starr on the anniversary of her date of birth. Here’s some original art inspired by Blaze Starr Goes Nudist to mark the occasion!

[bells-of-black-sunday]

How "open" are you to generally discussing the fact that you are transgender, or have gone through transitions? Are you casual about it, or are you a little more guarded with discussion? tarhos

Questions For Trans Muses | Accepting

Tarhos is generally pretty open about it to people he likes albeit he doesn't have a word or an easy way to describe what he is, he's been called the spawn of the devil, a child of Lilith, and all sorts of other negative things to the point where he just has the half-assed lie that it's an old war scar and that's the best the doctor could do. That being said it is something one generally has to ask about or see him changing to notice. He is 6'10 and well over 300 lbs, he's built, people would look stupid trying to call him a woman though I'm sure some have tried.

The only people he absolutely refuses to even answer questions about it with are nobles and people of a higher authority than him, he doesn't need another thing for them to think he's an oddity or something to gawk at about. Tarhos hates authority for several reasons all of them pretty much chalking up to how they never see him as a person. But- unlike the nobles who would like to gawk and those that would like to pretend he's some devil, Haru tells him he's made from the gods.

That's the most flustered you will ever see him, he's not used to people calling him that. He's been open with him about it since they really first started sharing a living space together, he's not shy about changing in front of people and it was bound to come up eventually. Modern Tarhos is a bit more reserved, but he generally talks about it with people he likes. Robin for example, paid for his bottom surgery and he generally regards him as a little brother to him. He's more than happy to discuss how his bloodwork is and everything with him and Haru alike.

[chiefarbitermoon]

Sherry Britton: Fordham Class of '82

Do Any Of Our Fordham University Alumni Recognize This Lady?

College enrollment will begin to decline in the next few years. Around the year 2026, the number of high school graduates in the United States is expected to drop significantly and for maybe as long as a decade. Maybe longer. What are some of the tactics the institutions of higher learning are taking to combat these enrollment/revenue deficits? 

Schools have lobbied the government for the use of Pell Grants which, starting this year, will expand the eligibility of people in prison (750,000+) to receive college educations.

In 2020, New York State relaxed the definition of the term university. It is hoped this will make it easier to market to foreign students who often viewed the term “college” as simply 2-year junior colleges.

Some of the major for-profit universities have been sold to major private schools to provide turn-key operations for encouraging on-line learners.

Another important area, built into these business models is the adult learner-Introducing Ms. Sherry Britton! 

Dec. 9, 1945 issue of Yank, the Army Weekly

“Here is the story of The Great Britton or Stripeasaurus Sex 

 and a College Graduate from the Class of 1982 graduate.”

She was born in 1918 as Edith Zack. After fleeing an adolescence marred with domestic violence, foster homes and an abusive first husband, Sherry Britton started stripping at the age of fifteen at the People's Theater on The Bowery in Lower Manhattan. She received ten cents a performance. She was also a trained belly dancer and acted on Broadway.

- IMDb Mini Biography By: Jane Margaret Laight 

She was named an honorary brigadier general by President Franklin D. Roosevelt for entertaining our troops during World War II.

She Married Her Millionaire

In 1971, Britton, who had been married twice previously, and who once said she'd been engaged "14 times," married wealthy businessman Robert Gross. Gross urged her to attend Fordham University. Although Britton had never attended high school, she was admitted to the Lincoln Center campus as an undergraduate where she majored in courses “appropriate for pre-law students”. Gifted with a very high IQ, she graduated magna cum laude in 1982, at the age of 63.

Perhaps A Little Too “Tradeschoolish” For A Serious University? 

Attending a burlesque show is not like going to a strip club. 

“Burlesque is a form of variety theater.” said Edward Bristow, former Dean at FCLC who has served at the Director of the Bachelor of Fine Arts. Program, ”It includes both dance and singing. It was most popular in the late 19th century and early 20th Century.” Bristow added: “I don’t think there is any formal training in stripetease.” 

Note: Unlike the striptease performer, you should not necessarily expect nudity on a burlesque stage. Dancers at a burlesque show plan their routines carefully and do a lot of training, just like ‘exotic dancers’ do. 

NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY DIGITAL COLLECTIONS

(L-R) Sherry Britton, unidentified actress, and Tom Poston in the stage revue The Best of Burlesque

Behind the Burly Q (2010)

Sherry is seen in archive footage in the Leslie Zemeckis directed film documentary that attempted to examine the golden age of American Burlesque in the first half of the 20th century. It takes a behind-the-velvet-curtain peek at the golden age of burlesque, meeting the women and men who pushed the envelope of social propriety. 

The Legitimate Theatre Too.

She appeared on Broadway in the 1958 three act comedy, Drink To Me Only. At the George Abbott Theatre on 154 West 54th Street. She played a character named Princess Alexandria for 77 performances. 

(https://www.ibdb.com/broadway)

After Robert Gross died in 1990, Britton lived a life of retirement. She died of natural causes on April 1, 2008, in New York City. 

Sherry Britton talks about burlesque and its history in NYC

{This article originally appeared in the Fordham University Class of 1980 Facebook site: https://www.facebook.com/groups/537184563628982}

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

Some Other Fordham Connections

When she co starred in Drink To Me Only she worked with Screen, 

Stage and TV veteran John McGiver (FCRH 1938 B.A. English) 

(IMDb.com)

Also interviewed in Behind the Burly Q, was Alan Alda (FCRH Class of 1956). His father, Robert Alda (right), had worked as a burlesque singer and straightman. 

(IMDb.com)

End Notes

1.https://www.forbes.com/sites/dereknewton/2021/01/27/one-way-colleges-can-weather-the-coming-enrollment-squeeze/?sh=657acf016aaf

2.https://thehill.com/homenews/education/4073299-around-30000-prisoners-soon-to-be-eligible-for-free-college-with-pell-grant-expansion/

 3.https://www.news10.com/news/ny-news/nys-board-of-regents-changes-definition-of-university/

 University of Phoenix being bought by the University of Idaho (estimated price is $550 million). 4.https://www.azcentral.com/story/money/business/2023/05/18/sale-of-university-of-phoenix-nears-after-deal-with-university-of-idaho-550-million/70234256007/

 5. Kaplan University bought by Purdue University for $1.00 (share revenue over next 30 years.) 

6.https://www.edsurge.com/news/2017-04-27-purdue-buys-for-profit-kaplan-university-for-1-to-create-new-kind-of-public-university

 7. https://www.imdb.com/name/nm2000509/bio/?ref_=nm_ov_bio_sm

 8. https://www.ibdb.com/broadway-cast-staff/sherry-britton-100411

 9. Hevesi, Dennis (3 April 2008). "Sherry Britton, 89, a S

10. https://www.1923lv.com/what-to-expect-from-a-burlesque-show/

11. https://www.ibdb.com/broadway-production/drink-to-me-only-2696

12. Hevesi, Dennis (3 April 2008). "Sherry Britton, 89, a Star of the Burlesque Stage, Dies". The New York Times.

13. Freeman, William M. (September 10, 1975). "John McGiver, Actor, 62, Dies. Did TV, Film Character Roles" (PDF). New York Times.  14. Gelt, Jessica (6 July 2013). "'Behind the Burly Q' a revealing portrait of burlesque's stars". Los Angeles Times.

[valhallarealm]

Storia del Burlesque - Cinema e TV

Storia del Burlesque – Cinema e TV

[tyttetardis]

Macbeth Q&A 18th Jan 2024 Part 1

Was lucky enough to get a ticket for the Member's Event at the Donmar Warehouse that took place on the 18th...with the price of the patronages I sure never thought I'd have gotten the chance, but luckily, they also let in some non-members 🥹❤️

The brilliant performance of Macbeth was followed by a very quick cleaning of the stage - thought for sure it would've taken them longer to remove the blood than like 5 minutes - followed by a lovely, little Q&A session.

The Q&A was led by Craig Gilbert (Literary manager) who talked to Annie Grace and Alasdair Macrae (Musicians and part of the acting ensemble) as well as Cush Jumbo and David Tennant.

Anyway, just gonna write down some of the stuff they talked about :) sorry if it's a bit messy! Might be spoilery if haven't seen it yet but is going to!

To begin with Craig remarked that he didn't think he'd ever seen that many people staying behind for a Q&A before (While I was just wondering why some people even left!? Stressful!).

David introduced himself with "My real name is David "Thane of Paisely" Tennant - while Cush introduced herself with "I´m Cush Jumbo - there's only one of me".

First question was Craig asking them what it was that brought them to the Donmar to do Macbeth - to which David pretty much just replied that 1. It's the Donmar! 2. It's Macbeth! One of the greatest plays of all time in an amazingly intimate space - and that the theatre is famous for its quality of work. So he found it quite hard to think of a reason not to do it!

Cush said she'd worked there before and loves the theatre, how it's so intimate but also a great workspace. Followed by her saying she said yes because David asked her. She talked about how important it was for this play to do it together with the right actor playing opposite you.

David says Max Webster asked him about a year ago if he wanted to do the play - he gave him the dates - and since there weren't any obstacles in the way, David didn't have any excuse not to do it.

He then said that he had slightly avoided Macbeth - there sorta being the assumption that if you're Scottish and has done some Shakespeare plays before you have to do Macbeth. Which he joked was a bit odd since it's not like every Italian has to play Romeo. Then he mentioned that Macbeth is probably a bit more of a jock than he is - that it seemed more like a part for big, burly actors.

Max had laid out his initial ideas to David, a lot of which are in the final production, and David thought he seemed lovely, bright and clever and inventive plus it being the Donmar Warehouse! To which joked that he had last worked there 20 years ago - when he was 8 years old! "It's just one of those spaces" - friendly and epic at the same time where it's such a pleasure to be on the stage.

When Craig asked his next question concerning the sound of the play someone asked him to speak louder as she couldn't hear them - to which David joked that they've gotten so used to whispering. But also said sorry, and that they would!

Alasdair explained a bit about the process of the binaural sound - bit I find it a bit difficult to decipher it all correctly, sorry. He did say that a interesting part of it is that it allows them a controlled environment where they can put all the musicians (and even the bagpipes!) behind the soundproof box so "Poor David and Cush" doesn't have to shout over all the racket.

Craig asked David and Cush what their reaction was when they heard about the concept of the binaural soundscape - to which David replied that it didn't quite exist when they first came onboard - Cush joking they were tricked into it. Then she talked about her and David going on a workshop with Max to get a feeling of how it would all work - and get a sense of how it would sound to the audience, as this was one of the few times, they got to hear that side of it. Their experience of the play being completely different to the experience the audience has.

Cush said they can hear some of the sound - like she can hear some of the animal sounds and David can hear some of the stuff from the glass box - but most of their cues and information comes from timing with each other. She said they won't be able to ever hear what the audience hears - to which David joked "We're busy".

It felt like mixing medias - as it all went quite against their natural stagecraft instinct - but Cush found that in the long run it made things very interesting - like they don't have to worry about getting something whispered to each other - as the audience will hear it anyway.

David said the odd thing is that they don't really know what the experience truly is like. He mentioned that to the sides of the stage there's a speaker for them where they will get any cues that they need to hear. Like they can hear the witches - but they can't hear where they are "positioned" - so they have to learn how to place themselves to fit with what the audience hears. They don't hear everything, though. And the audio they hear is quite quiet, so it doesn't disturb what comes through the headphones.

He thinks it's been exciting - that it's a bit like a mix between film and theatre. It's happening live - but it's also like post-production is happening between them and the audience as it's going on. They just have to trust that the audience is hearing what they are supposed to for it all to make sense.

Cush said she thinks in 10 - 20 years, as these technologies has developed, doing theatre like this will feel a lot more normal - not that they will do it ALL the time, but that they will be doing it - whereas now it's still like an experiment. What Cush really like about the concept is that if was done in a much bigger theatre - then people in the cheapest seats would be able to have an experience much more similar to those in the most expensive seats - they'd be a lot more immersed into the action.

David then talks about how it feels extremely counterintuitive to not go on stage and speak loud enough that the people in the back row can also hear you. And usually, if they can't hear you, you aren't doing your job right! But then it felt very liberating. He loves it.

Cush then talked about how it felt odd waiting in the wings for a cue you can't hear - where you traditionally wait backstage and you can hear your cues, you can hear the rythm and know when it's your turn - so it was quite disconcerting to hear silence. So it's basically down to them now knowing the show and each other's timings - like if David is standing at a certain point, she knows how long she has before she needs to say/do something. So you have to watch each other more closely and really focus on what the others are doing.

David asked the musicians if they can hear everything inside the box, to which Annie replied that they get everything except some extra bits in the soundscape. But they can hear the actors on stage. Annie said it's actually a bit of a mystery to all of them what the audience actually experiences - how the big pictures actually look like - they just have to trust that it's there "Is it there?!".

Someone asked if they had had any adverse reactions from audiences to having to wear the headphones. Quite a bit of laughter all around :P then David said "There's the odd person" and something about if someone hadn't gotten the memo before turning up...but not sure how he ended the line. Then once again says that yes, there's the odd person who doesn't like it and that's fair enough.

The same audience member then said he could see the advantage of it in a big theatre where the distance is big, but not in a small place like the Donmar - to which David very quickly, rather passionately replied that it's not about projection, it's about being able to do things you wouldn't normally be able to do live - where they can speak so quietly that they can't even hear each other when standing next to each other. So even in such a small place, people wouldn't be able to hear that. It's about creating a different play - which isn't to everyone's taste and that's fair enough. But for a play that's been done a hundred and seven million times he thinks it's very valid to try and find a new way into the play - even if it's not for everyone.

Part 2

[hello-ello-ello]

Macbeth but I have never read it but I have acted in act 1 of a tumblr production.

1. There are three witches. The third switch speaks the least. None of them bubble bubble toil and trouble.

2. Banquo comes back as a ghost

3. There are lots of birds in it. Wrens, owls and even eggs, which is a precursor to a bird.

4. Macduff is associated with said birds

5. when the hurly burly's done. (Excuse me, why is this line not famous)

6. Everybody dies at the end

7. Angus has 2 dialogues in act 1 then does not speak again till ACT V. Me: Who is Angus, anyway? ex: chekovs gun.

8. Macbeth is the thane of Cawdor.

9. His lady wife is an enabler.

10. King Duncan is not a donut. He is stabbed. (I will stab a jam donut next time I get one. I have never stabbed a donut before but fear not I have practice with stabbing cakes and kachoris)

11. Macbeth 's castle is in Inverness.

12. He rides extremely well.

13. Holp was the past tense of helped

13. Dame Judy (who did not agree to watch Bark Ruffalo) once played lady macbeth

14. David Tennant recently played Macbeth. I'm sure he did an excellent job.

15. DAVID FIDDLED A LOT WITH A CROWN.

16. DAVID PUT THE CROWN ON HIS OWN HEAD.

17. DAVID IF YOU PLAY LADY MACBETH I WILL FLY HALFWAY ACROSS THE WORLD TO SEE YOU.

18. NEIL GIVE ME S3 CROWLEY WITH LONG HAIR

FAQ:

Q. Surely you can go beyond 18 points after staging a production?

A. I WAS NOT PAYING ATTENTION OKAY. Fine, you can have one more.

19. Somebody asks the messenger for news. I think it was David Tennant Macbeth

Q. Wait how did this become about David Tennant

A. DID YOU LOOK AT HIM HE'S GORGEOUS

Q. You said you were sleeping 3 hours ago. A. WHAT ELSE DID YOU EXPECT OF MAGGOTS

Credits:

- Inspired by @weirdly-specific-but-ok

- my costars in the production @dashoulinas-fandom-dump , @queermarzipan , @koboldkatalyst and @harbinger-of-existential-dread , who surely paid more attention than me

- @multidimensional-trashcan for the bird facts and providing the stage

[carlyraejepsans]

As a canon sans fanatic, man,I JUST LOVE HOW YOU WRITE SANS! I want to write sans as faithful to the canon like you one day, so you have some tip or something to master the art of writing sans undertale as accurated as possible?

make a file with all of his lines. the undertale text dump is your best friend. select all, copy, open a new document, paste it in. the deltarune one is a bit trickier because it's not formatted as tidily but it's there too. as for the rest, you're on your own. alarm clock winter dialogue, casino dialogue, crosstitch book, Q&A. all of it. snoop around. and then format it into looking normal. this means removing all the asterisks and putting it all back into chronological order because the dialogue dump is a bit all over the place. i used to be annoyed about it, but honestly it was a good excuse to look at the dialogue more. i already have a fully formatted doc but... not gonna share it with ya. half the benefit comes from having to read it so many times yourself while putting it together. actually, this is a practice I'd recommend to learn the voice for any UT character

you are going to treasure this file. consult it constantly. now, make ANOTHER file, open them side by side, and start jotting down shit. sentence length, structure, vocal tics, any pattern you can spot. look at what makes him tick. for the more, uhhh, mathematical side of the analysis, sometimes i plug bits and pieces of it in prowritingaid. the free plan does 500 words per session. it rules.

i am not kidding, are you writing in his voice? then consult that file constantly. if a specific term feels weird, look if he's said it before in canon. if he hasn't, look for a synonym (or shortened version). if he doesn't have that, either reword your bit, look for phrases where he says basically the same thing but with a different structure, or just say fuck it and leave it in anyway. hey, I'm not your babysitter

undertale is a comedy and sans is a comedic character. his comedic role is as crucial to his persona as his speech pattern is. sure you can make him be funny, but is he being funny in a way that fits his role?

continuing off the previous point: sans is a "born lucky" character. a jester. a troll. in a comedic context, this means he's always landing on his feet. this man's got the rules of comedy wrapped around his fingers so tight you'd figure they owe him money. one does not simply "dunk" on sans undertale. either the situation isn't goin to arise full stop, or you're going to get your ass handed back to you with "some king" written on it in magic marker, or he's going to roll with the punch. people don't laugh AT sans, they laugh WITH him.

do you however require him to eat shit for story purposes? alright. like i said, roll with the punches. if he can't turn the situation around in his favor, he's going to brush it off with humor and nonchalance. relegate the shit eating to the machinations of his inner monologue

so! you managed to get all the way here with a reasonably canon sounding sans and now you're finally at that emotional scene you wanted to write for so long! how exciting! dial it back. it's too emotional. "but i already d-" nope. trust me, I'm guilty of this too. artists and writers love melodrama, but whatever you're thinking is too showy for him. so dial it back again for good measure.

"but what if i insult his brother to his face-" you can do that in-game, he tells you sarcasm isn't funny, says a nice thing about him, then moves on like nothing happened

"but what if i killed his brother-" you also do that. in the game. he leaves. hauls ass immediately, drops off the face of the earth, takes a memento with him and then he's Gone. his meetings with him afterwards are brief, sterile and resentful, but he doesn't explode or anything

continuing once again, Angry Sans Does Not Yell. there's a whole fandom subgroup dedicated to making him a big burly roaring axe-weilding cannon blazing killing machine. this is very cheap. sans is an example of one of the most impactful uses of audio design in undertale, and it's when it cuts out entirely as he begins to speak. sans is terrifying because he's quiet.

there's only one occasion where he raises his voice and acts intimidating in a more stereotypically tough guy way, and that's in the second part of his fight. you know, when he's getting tired by the minute, his trap already failed and he's not so metaphorically feeling the hounds of hell yapping at his bony heels. he's panicking, and it takes him a LOT to get there, so if it happens in your story don't throw it out there all willy nilly.

likewise, long gone are the days of teary eyed sans clutching papyrus' scarf, vowing to revenge his death and bring you to justice to protec-wait a second this is undyne. anyway, those days are gone and thank god for that. sans is inherently conflict avoidant, in a very similar way to papyrus. but most of all he's private: with his emotions, with his grief, with his backstory, with his trauma. sans faced with something devastating, or depressing or just plain hopeless doesn't beat his chest like a woman in some trashy romance novel. he shuts down. he leaves as soon as he can..

now, sometimes you're writing a story and you kinda NEED him to eat shit. or become emotional when confronted with something, or get him flustered cuz he's in love, or cry or get angry or snap, etc etc. for plot purposes! that's completely fine. not everything has to follow undertale's criteria. but, if you want to keep it feeling authentic, try to keep it mind that this condition is NOT standard for him. this is uncharted territory. it's the exception that confirms the rule, not the new average (think eggs husband joke in dr), and thus you're going to need to justify it in the face of the story. give him a reason to get to that point. build it up slowly and carefully. too much and you break the character. if you're doing a backstory for him, maybe before he was as cynical as he is today, you might have a bit more breathing room, but you're gonna have to work backwards to explain How He Got Here, both morally and personality-wise

this response is already colossally long so I'm gonna close it here. it's pretty late now in my country and I don't know if any of it is coherent, but i hope it helped you at least a little. night night!!

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME TWISTED METAL / SEASON 01 EPISODES 01 + 02

the world fell to shit.

not having easily accessible porn freaked people out.

it's like a goddamn maze in here.

i got a big package for you.

time makes a fool of us all.

what's your name, slugger?

time to turn on the charm.

guess i'm not getting that knife back.

i'm sure you've got some stories.

charming, devilishly handsome, you know the type.

he was invited to have a beer with a mysterious, mildly intimidating white lady.

you got a solid ass.

i've got a lot of power.

i can make people's desires, their dreams, their every wish come true.

you have no idea what i would do for some two-ply.

i've never met a baby before.

aren't you tired of almost dying every day?

arent you tired of always being alone?

he had a theory that little sins could attract big sins.

consider it your punishment for crimes committed against the law.

eat my ass.

saving your ass once again.

it'll make your nipples spin like a lady in the burly-q show.

that's why i'm here to see your pretty face.

it means dealing with a bunch of brainwashed, burger worshipping screwballs.

there's chaos out there.

you know, it's really rude not to introduce yourself before pulling a gun on someone.

how about you lower that sorry excuse for a gun and i'll lower my exceptionally cool blade.

we don't want things to escalate, do we?

see? now things have escalated.

this never happened to me before.

you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

six bullets, each with your name on it.

that said, i'm willing to negotiate.

i love you, but this is all your fault.

well excuse me for trying to get you something dope for your birthday.

you know what's dope? a full eight hours of sleep.

i call dibs on the man titties.

they'd rather eat the flesh of their own kind than starve.

silent, but not very deadly.

you can hide, but i have ways to find you.

damn. that usually works.

why are you scurrying away, little squirrel?

sounds like you have trust issues.

i finally felt hot water that wasn't my own piss.

i really appreciate you coming along nicely.

normally i have to drag people into here kicking and screaming.

you won't like what happens if you run.

i love names. i'm kind of a name guy.

you should consider yourself lucky.

there are some things i wish i could forget.

you holding in a fart or something?

are we really gonna kill these guys?

they see the world in shades of grey.

my entire life people have been lying to me.

being alone was all i knew.

i was gonna starve her, watch the life slowly drain from her eyes.

i think she's gonna give you a run for your money.

you try to kill me every chance you get.

why should i show you mercy?

if it wasn't for me, you would be a starving corpse right now.

neither one of us made it pretty far on our own.

instead of trying to stab each other in the back, we should put our heads together and figure out how in the hell we're going to make it through this.

cool, we're fucked.

i am gonna tour de force this machete down your throat.

if you're not gonna tell the truth, then i'm gonna make you shut up and bleed.

it was a fucking snooze-fest.

your performance was dull as dick water.

you don't want to spend the rest of your life alone.

i'm gonna embrace the chaos.

maybe i'll even fall in love.

i have to admit i didn't think we were gonna make it out of there alive.

what is your problem anyway?

i'm keeping the gun.

you're really not gonna tell me your name?

did you just ask me for oral?

eat my ass, fuck.

[diabolus1exmachina]

Aston Martin Victor (1 of 1). 

Meet the Aston Martin Victor, a one-off commission made by the company’s Q division and utilising a greatest hits package of learnings from the One-77, Vulcan and Valkyrie hypercars.  Knowing where to start is tough, but let’s go bottom up. Underpinning the whole thing is a refurbished carbon monocoque chassis from the One-77, which is also where the Victor’s front-mounted 7.3-litre V12 engine has been sourced. It produced 750bhp when the One-77 launched a decade ago which – said no one ever – is not enough. It’s been sent back to Cosworth for another fettle and has returned producing a significantly more terrifying 836bhp (and 606lb ft of torque), still without a turbo in sight. Yep, 836bhp via natural aspiration. The noise is going to be good, isn’t it? It drives the rear wheels via a six-speed manual gearbox – in place of the One-77’s automated unit – making this the most powerful stick-shift Aston road car ever. There is a ‘bespoke motorsport clutch’, and I probably don’t need to explain why.

Helping its driver manage all of that are the inboard springs and dampers of Aston’s track-only Vulcan, with ginormous Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes and racecar-esque centre-lock wheels at the end of them. Clothing the whole lot is a carbon body inspired by the brutish Aston Martin Vantage of the 1970s and 80s. Yet thanks to a development programme that’s utilised computer fluid dynamic testing, it produces more downforce at 100mph than Aston’s current GT4 racecar. Probably welcome given the sheer muscle beneath. The rear lights are inspired by those on the Valkyrie, while if you head inside you’ll find a steering wheel nicked from the Vulcan programme. The paint scheme is a twist on the green-on-tan you’d associate with a classic British sports car, the exterior a dark shade called Pentland Green and contrasted with satin carbonfibre. Despite looking burly, the whole thing weighs less than the slender One-77 it’s so heavily related to. And the name? Following Vulcan and Valkyrie, you might presume it’s an aeronautical reference. We’re told it’s a nod to Victor Gauntlett, though, boss of Aston Martin when it launched the V8 Vantage its aesthetics have unsubtly taken inspiration from.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

The Undead Adventurer (3)

When an interrupted resurrection spell leaved Danny halfway between life and death, his adventuring career should have been over. But Danny Fenton won't let something as minor as being regularly mistaken for a member of a zombie horde, or kidnapped by an unknowable monster of death stop him from becoming the strongest adventurer in the world with his best friends by his side.

For the following prompts:

His head spun. He couldn’t see past the light above him. What was it? [from @q-gorgeous]

Fantasy/rpg setting. Danny died, but the resurrection spell went wrong, and now he’s trapped as something not quite dead but not fully alive either. Not that he’d ever let that stop him from becoming an adventurer, even if he does get mistaken as a resident dungeon monster by other adventuring parties every now and then… [from @lexiepiper]

Danny catches the eye of something he shouldn't. (Eldritch affection or soft horror encouraged) [from Ventisette Stars]

Read also on AO3

Chapter 3: Dungeon Crawler (first chapter | previous | last)

[Warnings for violence, death, and some explicit language]

The dungeon was more like it. Even before Sam cast her light spell, Danny could see every stone and every bit of moss. No matter how much his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight outside, it was still too bright, to the point where it gave Danny a headache. But down here, that wasn't a problem at all.

Rather than worrying about particulars like how many floors and what kind of monsters it had, the three adventurers had all agreed to just go to the nearest dungeon at or below their skill level. That ended up being a medium difficulty dungeon populated primarily by—surprise, surprise—undead.

It wasn't as if this country was particularly known for being teeming with undead. There were no more undead here than in any other country, it was just that this particular trio of adventurers, entirely by coincidence, always ended up fighting undead, one way or another, whether they were expecting to or not.

Now, the thing about a dungeon crawl, as compared to a commissioned quest, like they'd done on Eerie Coast, was that they weren't the only adventurers doing it. Many teams of adventurers at a time went into a dungeon, hoping to uncover its hidden riches for themselves and their party. This wasn't exactly a problem. At worst, there would be some minor, good-spirited competition if two parties reached a room at the same time.

At least... it had never been a problem before. Now, however, it turned out to be a bit of a problem.

Danny's head was spinning. Something blunt had slammed against the back of his head, and now he was flat on his back, his vision was blurred, and he couldn't focus. A bright light flashed above him, so bright it took up his entire field of view, and he couldn't see past it. It was hot. What was it?

"Fireball!" Sam screamed.

At her shout, Danny instantly pushed himself up and flew straight for the ceiling. From his new vantage point, he could see a second group of adventurers, four of them. A big burly guy in heavy armor, a female bard with blue hair a red-haired sorceress, and a short, portly man who looked like he was maybe a squire for one of the others, since he was hardly dressed like a warrior.

"Hey!" Sam stormed right up to them, fury written on every inch of her body. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Saving you from that zombie?" the bard scoffed. "Obviously. Didn't know zombies could fly, though."

"They can't! Danny's not a zombie, he's a member of our team!" she yelled. "You can't just go around trying to kill other's people's teammates! Who do you think you are?"

"They call me Skulker," the burly man answered. "And these are my companions, the famed bard Ember McLain, The sorceress Penelope Spectra, and the shapechanger Bertrand."

"Yeah, I wasn't really asking," Sam scoffed. "Get out of here before I do more than yell at you for almost killing my friend."

They weren't the last. After their first day in the dungeon, it didn't seem like a stretch to say that Danny was in more danger from other adventurers than he was from the skeletons they'd been running into all day.

"Maybe we should leave and just switch to taking commissions full time from now on," Sam suggested tiredly, when the three of them made camp for the night.

"Don't even joke," Danny groaned. "I can handle some adventurer's thinking I'm a zombie, I cannot handle working full time for pompous rich assholes hiring adventurers to come wash their laundry just to feel superior."

Not everyone who commissioned adventurers for quests was like that. But... to be honest, most were. They either wanted the bragging rights of saying an adventurer had come in to personally solve their problem, even though they would be better off hiring a tradesman who was actually qualified for the task, or else they just didn't know what adventurers actually did.

"We could just take government commissions," Sam suggested.

"And barely make enough money to survive on?"

At the very least, town governments tended to actually know the sort of task you needed adventurers for, like clearing out a bunch of undead sea creatures from your coastline. Unfortunately, they never paid nearly as well as whatever noble was currently looking for an adventurer to come to his manor and wipe his ass.

Danny was perfectly happy to take on the occasional government quest. It was fulfilling to help others by doing what you were good at. But they also needed to make a living somehow, and the real money in adventuring (aside from humiliating yourself for the entertainment of nobles) came from dungeon crawling and treasure hunting.

"If Danny says he can handle it, we should trust him," Tucker said. "Yeah, it's annoying, but if he's really insistent on not retiring, then he's right. The three of us can't keep adventuring on government commissions alone, and I'm with Danny on the private commission thing. They're always lame tasks that adventurers aren't well suited for anyway."

"Fine," Sam relented with a sigh. "If you guys are really determined to keep going deeper in this dungeon, I guess I'll at least stick with you so I can teleport us out if someone gets injured too badly."

The boys both grinned widely at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I'll take the last watch as usual," she said. "I'm gonna sleep now."

The next day, they faced the same problem. Danny nearly died twice, both times because another group of adventurers mistook him for a resident dungeon monster, even though he was traveling with two humans and decided there was no reason to ask questions and they should just attack.

"Ugh," Danny groaned after he told off another party for thinking he was a zombie. "At least we'll probably run into fewer other adventurer's the deeper we get."

"Yeah, maybe then you can be almost killed by actual monsters instead of plain old idiots," Tucker joked.

Danny found it hilariously funny, but Sam did not agree.

The three of them kept heading further and further into the dungeon, and so far, everything was going well, more or less. There were a few hiccups, but no one had been badly injured yet, at least. Tucker still had plenty of arrows. Sam's magic hadn't been drained too much yet. They'd rested well the night before, had plenty to eat, and none of them were too winded or tired from the fighting.

Then they walked into the next room.

Beyond the wooden door was the biggest zombie horde they'd ever been faced with. There must've been nearly a thousand of the creatures, shambling around, and when the heard the door creak open, every single one of them looked right at the trio of adventurers.

Then they attacked.

The three adventurers didn't even get the chance to breathe as they had to fight off zombie after zombie, all crowding on them. It was less than a minute before they started to lose. Badly.

One of them snapped Tucker's bowstring, another two managed to wrestle Sam's staff away from her. Danny kept slashing away with his sword, cutting them down one after another, but there was hardly any room for him to move and seeing his friends in such dire straights was not helping his concentration.

"Stop!" Danny shouted at the zombie poised to strike Tucker. "Stop all of you!"

Shouting commands at the zombies should have been useless. Zombies didn't have reason or awareness. They didn't care about random humans ordering them around, and nothing Danny said should have been able to sway them.

But Danny was supposed to be a Zombie General, the creature like them which commanded them, and whom they obeyed unequivocally.

So when Danny commanded them to stop....

They stopped dead.

Danny stared, uncomprehending for a long moment. Sam and Tucker did the same. All three of them were breathing heavy, afraid to move and break the spell that had all these zombies frozen before them. Then the realization hit them.

"G-give me that staff," Danny ordered, nervous and awed all at once.

The zombie that had Sam's staff started to shamble toward him, the others getting out of its way as it went to their leader. It held out the staff for Danny to take, and Danny did so.

"Now... everyone go touch a wall," Danny said.

The mass of zombies moved as one, rushing toward the walls of the enormous room. Falling over each other to get their hands on the damp stone, and leaving the center of the floor vacant for the the adventurers the pass through, and the doorway clear for them.

Cautiously, the trio passed through, staring openly. Once they got to the door, Danny turned around and said:

"Now, all of you start attacking each other as viciously as you can!"

Then he closed the door behind them.

Through the coarse wood, they could hear tearing and thumping and a cacophony of ghoulish screams, and Danny began to wonder if it would have been more humane to just order them to stand still while he cut them down himself. This was faster and less work but.... He shuddered.

"Let's... let's go," Danny suggested.

Sam and Tucker nodded mutely, and with a stiff gait, they all walked away from the room, trying to ignore the wretched sounds of the undead ripping each other apart at Danny's orders.

Danny felt as if there were eyes on him, judging him. Of course, when he looked around the corridor, he saw nothing. Still, the feeling followed him, never easing, even when the three of them chose to stop for the night. He told himself it was just a sense of guilty over the needlessly gruesome order he's given the zombies, but in a dungeon, he knew better than to write it off entirely.

When Tucker took over watch, Danny tried to sleep, but when he did, it was restless, and anxious.

And when he woke up, that feeling still lingered. The feeling like something was watching him.

[homomenhommes]

STORY: Prisoner Cell Block Q

The state judge glanced over his half-moon specs, shuffled his papers and cleared his throat.

'Jesse Smyth,' he declared with intent, eyeing the cocky young offender before him. 'You have been found guilty by this court, and it is the State of Michigan's intention to take this opportunity to demonstrate that the rule of law must be upheld, and that petty criminals such as yourself will not be tolerated. I am therefore sentencing you to two years at Kalamazoo Penitentiary, and give strict instructions for you to be held in Cell Block Q for at least the first six months of your time there.'

Smyth's lawyer - a diminutive, balding man - immediately jumped to his feet, with a look of desperation on his face that sharply contrasted to his young client's complacency. 'Your Honour,' he began, 'if I may have the opportunity to speak ...'

Judge Hastings paused. Then gave a heavy sigh. 'Twenty seconds only, Mr. Ross,' he replied.

'Your Honour, my client has been found guilty only of very minor crimes. Under the circumstances, I really do believe that sending him to Cell Block Q is somewhat draconian!'

The judge cleared his throat again, taking note once again of Smyth's casual manner. 'Your client, Mr. Ross, is a petty criminal, who clearly shows little regard for this court, and whose crimes will no doubt grow steadily worse unless it is checked at this early stage. As such, I have no hesitation in instructing the prison authorities to hold the prisoner to my instructions.'

He grabbed his hammer to clear the court for the next case; whilst Smyth himself was manhandled out of the room by two burly cops, both of whom seemed strangely amused at the young fellow's fate, and who took great pleasure in highlighting the fact.

'Gees, man,' the one exclaimed, as they marched down the corridor towards the awaiting transport. 'I'm sure as hell glad that it's not me going to Cell Block Q!'

'The stories you hear of that place,' commented the other with a grin, evidently keen to upset the confidence of their boastful charge. 'Yeah, there's not many who leave that place the same man as they first went in, that's for sure!'

'Hey that's funny, man!' remarked the first officer again, with a hearty splutter. 'Real funny!'

'Fuck off, you jerks!' Smyth finally retorted, evidently not bothered by their banter. 'It's just a fucking state jail I'm going to, not Alcatraz! And oh yeah, I'm really scared!' he added scornfully.

The cops glanced knowingly at each other; then laughed once again at his ignorance.

'Yeah, of course,' the second officer groaned at last, with obvious irony. 'It's just a jail!'

And with that they slammed him into the dark; with only another reel of uncontrollable giggles to wish him luck.

*****

Jesse Smyth was not a bad lad.

Foolish, yeah. Arrogant, sure. But not intrinsically evil or corrupt.

Fact is, like a good many other young guys in their time, he'd fallen in with the wrong crowd. Engaging in a course of minor burglaries and car crime that, in themselves, were arguably insignificant. But which, when added together, made for quite a catalogue of misdemeanours, and that appeared to suggest a slow but marked intensity of criminality.

Which explained Judge Hasting's decision to nip the problem in the bud. As he sentenced the cocksure twenty year old to a punishment that very few young men would envy.

For let's be honest, the Justice knew exactly what he was doing in reaching his verdict. Realised only too fully how a pretty twink would be treated in Cell Block Q. After all, he'd sent more than enough young guys there in his time to know that the fellow's self-assurance would soon be knocked out of him, and that Smyth would quickly be left wishing that he'd trod the straight and narrow path rather than follow a life of crime. Because like the cops had suggested, few men ever left the confines of that particular cell with quite the strut or swagger with which they arrived; and had the youngster took chance to observe the smirk on the Judge's face when they'd him from the dock, he'd have realised that Hastings took pleasure in such tender realisation himself.

Yeah, no doubt about it, Cell Block Q was the sort of place that most petty villains wished they could leave from the very moment they arrived, and which precious few ever desired to return to once they had been withdrawn to another quarter of the prison. Little wonder that the majority of felons were models of impeccable behaviour during their remaining residence at the Penitentiary!

Not that Jesse Smyth knew any of this during the course of the long, sweaty journey there. Which was perhaps just as well, given that it promised to be the last peace of mind he'd have to enjoy for quite some considerable time. For like most guys his age, he was full of brash and brimming with spunk; and he certainly wasn't flustered by the tittle-tattle of half-crazed cops, whose days were filled chasing crooks simply because they'd never had the balls to be crooks themselves! Indeed, there was no doubt in his naive little thoughts that he'd soon have the Penitentiary governor wrapped around his little finger, and that he'd be ensconced in the best room in jail enjoying waiter-service before the week was even out!

Yeah, no question about it, the next two years were gonna be like an extended holiday. And, in the meantime, Judge John Hastings could just go and fuck himself!

And so it was, four hours after being sentenced, with a breathless July sun beating down on the world, that the prison van swept through the gates of the jail with Cell Block Q's newest arrival. All six-one and 180 pounds of him. A quiff in his dark brown hair and a smile still on his lips, despite his manacles; and a twinkle in his chocolate eyes that seemed totally at odds with the desolate camp around him. Indeed, judging from the aura of superiority that the youngster gave off as he stepped out from the vehicle, you'd have honestly thought that he'd won the World Series or something - a fact that was not overlooked by any of the guards, all of whom no doubt relished the prospect of bringing another young pup to heel.

'So then,' drooled a heavy voice from behind, as Governor Foles stepped out into the courtyard to greet his visitor. 'What have we got here, I wonder ...?'

'This is Jesse Smyth,' explained one of the sentries, handing his boss the documentation relating to the new resident. 'Smyth has been sentenced to two years detention, of which at least the first six months must be spent within the confines of Cell Block Q.'

Foles - a tall, handsome, well-built guy in his mid-thirties - glanced at the paperwork and raised a smile. 'Jones,' he snapped to another officer, 'inform the prisoner his rights.'

'Prisoner 78331,' drawled the young guard in the offender's direction. 'You are held here in accordance to the instruction of the State of Michigan, and in so doing have no rights!'

Smyth, being Smyth, could not refrain from scoffing at such a perverse statement. 'Of course I have fucking rights!' he exclaimed vehemently. 'I have rights under the Constitution!'

'Believe me, 78331,' repeated the officer. 'Prisoners in Cell Block Q have no rights!'

'I'm a fucking American citizen!' the convict proclaimed defiantly, the veins throbbing in his neck. 'And as such I have rights under the American Constitution. Understand me?!'

Governor Foles edged forward. 'Prisoner,' he began with a steely coldness. 'On this one occasion we shall overlook your impertinence. You are new here, and perhaps do not understand the technicalities of your residence. Like Officer Jones says, you have no rights here in Cell Block Q and, as such, would be best to remember this fact at all times. What is more, given my understanding of the young men who come here, I very much doubt that there is anyone alive who cares that you are here at all. Contrast that to the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, who possibly have loved ones awaiting their eventual release, and who at least have the jerks in the media to worry about their interests. Believe me, prisoners here do not have such privileges, and you would do best to remember it at all times.'

'But I am an American citizen!' Smyth retorted. 'And under the Constitution -'

His protests came to an immediate halt, as Foles thrashed his gloved hand across the young man's face. 'You seem to have some difficulty in understanding what is being said here,' the Governor noted. 'I really do hope that this is not an indication of things to come. For your sake, as much as ours.'

Smyth whelped in shock as much as agony, but the look in his dark brown eyes seemed to indicate a new flush of determination despite the unexpected assault. 'You don't frighten me!' he glared. 'You hear me? You don't frighten me at all!'

Foles gave an almost flippant flick of his deep blue eyes. 'Boy, I don't care whether you're frightened of me or not,' he calmly assured. 'I mean let's face it, I don't care whether you live or die here, so your personal regard to me is quite inconsequential. All that concerns me and my officers is that you do exactly what you're told, when you're told to do it. What's more, we have ways of making sure that that happens. Believe me. Especially when it comes to pretty boys like yourself.'

The Governor turned to Jones. 'When did Boner last have company?' he quizzed.

His deputy grinned, eyeing the new prisoner up and down. 'Two months ago, Sir,' he confirmed. 'Sure guess he must be ready to do a little more entertaining by now ...'

Foles clicked his fingers to a couple of guards to his right, before stepping aside. 'Remove the prisoner's clothing!' he ordered - at which point Smyth was pounded on from all directions. His prison boiler-suit plucked away from in just a matter of seconds, and (since his hands were still cuffed behind his back) leaving him fully exposed to the attention of whatever eye cared to admire such candy.

For the very first time since his arrival, there was a fleeting shimmer of embarrassment on Smyth's young face. But it was a temporary transformation; and before a few more seconds had passed the prisoner was again ranting his indignity. An act that fell very much on deaf ears.

'Silence!' the Governor roared. His physical presence towering over the entire proceedings, and helping to bring about an immediate (and surprisingly premature) end to Smyth's complaints.

'Clothes are not required for any prisoner in Cell Block Q,' Foles calmly explained, stepping towards the freshman once again. 'They are a privilege that residents will only regain if and when they graduate to the main penitentiary.'

'But -' Prisoner 78331 tried to begin.

'You will ask for permission to speak at all times!' the Governor barked, snarling straight into the lad's tender face and snorting down his manly nostrils. 'Understand me! At all times!'

Foles hardly took breath to continue.

'You are no longer an American citizen in this establishment. Indeed, you are hardly a human being at all. What's more, you can expect to be treated as such!'

And with that he promptly cut Smyth's legs from right under him with his own leg. Forcing the young man down onto the concrete beneath, so that now he was sat naked with Foles standing upright over him. Threatening to kick the shit out of the cocky young guy at any given moment.

'I really do hope that I'm getting my message across here,' the presiding officer scoffed, fishing into his fly as he did so. 'But just in case you're in any doubt as to my intentions ...'

And with that he immediately pulled out his cock, aimed in Smyth's direction, and began to piss all over the fellow's head. Much to the lad's disgruntlement, it must be said.

'You fuckin' bastard!' Smyth gasped, as much out of shock as anything. But the Governor clearly did not take too kindly to his retort, and as a result now invited his officers to follow his example. Yanking out their shafts, and emptying their bladders right over the indignant youth.

'Believe me,' Foles now exclaimed menacingly, zipping himself up again, 'you will find we have much more humiliating methods than this to ensure a prisoner learns his place here. Why, we even have one officer who likes nothing better than to spoon-feed his own excrement to any unruly resident who takes his fancy. So if I were you, I'd best take care to hold that tongue of yours ...'

'Now,' he abruptly ordered to his men, 'wash the bastard down!'

The rookie inmate hardly had chance to realise what was happening. Trying desperately to get to his feet, he was met with a sudden hard spray of cold water, as several of the guards merrily opened fire on him with fire-hoses. As a result, any attempt on his part to stand was rendered utterly useless, and within just a few seconds the boy appeared to accept that he had little choice but to sit and take his punishment. Burying his head between his legs, whilst the water bit into his tender flesh like a scourer.

For five whole minutes - and what seemed like an absolute eternity to Prisoner 78331 - the deluge continued unabated. Its ferocity only concluded at Governor Foles's discretion. By this time, of course, Smyth was visibly dithering as a result of the cold. His chin shaking so much that he could hardly have spoken even if he had dared to. His cock notably shrivelled when he was ordered to get to his feet and stand upright to attention.

'Right,' proclaimed Foles, with a wry grin on his lips, 'I think we're getting somewhere at last ...' And with that he clicked his fingers at one of the guards, who stepped behind the young hostage with a pair of angry looking clippers.

'Under the rules of this camp,' he continued in his usual precise manner, 'prisoners are not allowed hair on their head that is longer than one-eighth of an inch.' And with that he clicked his fingers once again, signalling that the officer could begin to shave into Smyth's thick, dark mass.

The fuzz fell to the ground in heavy clods, but on this occasion the new resident did not appear to have the effort to protest. Instead, he merely stood in a near-tearful coma. Perhaps experiencing - for the very first time - that initial sense of regret that almost every new prisoner here felt in his time. That desperate wish for a reprieve that they knew, deep down, was not going to come.

'Whilst on the subject of hair,' Foles clinically explained, 'it is the policy here to restrict the display of pubic hair to those prisoners who are deemed to deserve it. A matter held purely on my discretion, I may add. As a new resident here in Cell Block Q you will be shaved clean, and will be expected to remain smooth at all times until you are notified personally by myself otherwise. Is that understood ...?'

Smyth - whose haircut was now almost complete - gave a slight nod of the head.

'Is that understood?' the Governor repeated.

'Yes ...' the prisoner finally retorted. The shame written across his handsome face.

'Yes, sir!' Foles snapped impatiently.

Smyth tried to clear his throat. 'Yes, s-sir ...' he repeated with a stutter; whilst the clippers turned their attention to his crotch, cutting into his pubes with an almost sinister buzz.

And then, to the young lad's complete and utter shame, something terrible began to happen.

Perhaps it was the feel of the shaver against his most private quarters, brushing up to the base of his cock and around his heavy balls. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't been able to jerk off yet today. Or possibly - though he sincerely hoped not! - it was the presence of a guy between his legs. Whatever the reason, Smyth began to get a hard-on. His pole swelling up before him like an inflatable tent, as the razor continued to smooth its way across his exposed flesh. Jutting out with such wanton magnificence that it almost immediately became the attention of everyone that was present. And forcing its somewhat abashed owner into a glow of pure and unadulterated embarrassment.

Fact is, Jesse Smyth could've quite easily wished for the ground to swallow him up right there and then. But as he was quickly discovering, in Cell Block Q there were no such luxuries.

'Well, well ...' the Governor smiled, privately impressed with the young man's weaponry. 'Looks like you're enjoying that bit of attention. Still,' he continued, 'we'll soon make sure you're not bothered by that sort of problem again ...'

Prisoner 78331 looked genuinely menaced. For he obviously wasn't certain as to what his superior meant.

'You are a category A2 prisoner,' Foles explained. 'And as such will be placed on a category A2 diet. This means that all your food and water will contain lots and lots of bromide. And bromide will help restrain these sort of urges. Will help you forget all about sex. In fact, it won't be too long before you'll be struggling to remember what a hard-on feels like.

'Which brings us onto the delicate matter of category A1 prisoners, whose behaviour is deemed to warrant a category A1 diet - Boner being one such inmate, as you will shortly discover. A1 prisoners no longer receive bromide in their food and drink. Indeed on the contrary, they are fed a diet rich in aphrodisiacs. Proteins and minerals that help restore their growth of pubic hair, and which leaves them feeling horny as hell. And I mean, horny! Believe me, these guys think about sex 24/7, and look for relief wherever they can find it. Which pretty much sums a guy like Boner up. A walking, talking sex-machine, who always loves to meet up with a handsome new inmate such as yourself ...'

Smyth's cock began to shrink with the Governor's every word. As he began to realise the enormity of what he was being told. Not that he actually believed it, if truth were told. After all, whilst his brief experience at Cell Block Q was already more than enough to suggest that Foles wasn't joking, he still couldn't quite bring himself round to believing what the man had just implied. Namely that guys like himself were open game to those other prisoners who had somehow found the Governor's favour, and were used and abused in whatever form took their superiors' fancy.

Indeed, despite everything he was now beginning to understand about the prison - of all the intimate horrors that its walls contained - the young man was still of a mind to take the words he had just heard as a wistful joke. Yet glancing up (somewhat hopefully) in the direction of his master, he quickly began to realise that everything he had heard was true. The Governor, it seemed, was not of a nature to jest after all; and it was with almost a subconscious reflex that he felt his virgin ring tighten. As if to throw some meaningless gesture of defiance in the wake of his destiny.

'Ready for inspection, Sir ...' declared the officer who had shaved the charge, stepping back proudly from his labour.

Governor Foles started to gracefully step around Smyth with typically eager eyes. Observing the newly cropped scalp and the tight, rounded buns. But, most of all, the freshly-scraped groin. Its once-healthy crop of pubes now completely removed, leaving the new resident with a decidedly boyish appearance. Smyth's show of manhood peeled away as a vain and impudent impostor.

'My how the proud have fallen ...' Foles remarked before instructing another officer to thrust the prisoner number around the felon's neck.

'Say cheese!' he then mocked, as a series of photographs was taken.

'Do we have a list of the offender's associates?' the Governor finally enquired.

'I believe we do, Sir ...' Jones dutifully informed him.

'Excellent. No doubt our friend here would love the people he knows outside to have a memento of this special occasion - you know, just so that they can see that he's okay and in good health. What do you think, Jones?'

'I believe he's almost overcome with excitement just at the thought,' mocked the officer.

'Still,' sighed Foles, looking straight into Smyth's dark eyes and seeing (for the first time) genuine fear, 'let's not be too hasty. The fellow might surprise us, after all. Let's just make sure only his mother receives a copy and leave it at that ...

'For now,' he then added with a menacing tone.

'Right,' the Governor exclaimed, glancing at his watch in almost carefree manner, 'time for a nice cup of coffee I'd say. And,' he then continued, glancing back at Prisoner 78331, 'time for you to make the acquaintance of Prisoner 71432. Otherwise known as Boner - for reasons that I think will become painfully clear to you in due course.

'By the way,' he added, stepping right up to Smyth so as to bear down on the lad like an unforgiving tornado, 'I'd be nice to Boner if I were you. You may find that he becomes a little unrefined if he thinks you're not obliging, and I'd hate that to happen. We once had one young guy here - not too unlike yourself - who thought it might somehow help his cause to bite when he should've been sucking. Needless to say, Boner soon made sure he never bit anyone ever again. The lad had just three teeth left in by the time my men got to him, and two of those were broken ...'

Suddenly, and without warning, the youngster did what he'd secretly been threatening to do for at least five minutes now. He pissed himself involuntarily.

'Gees, boy,' Foles grinned, 'I do hope we haven't frightened you too much. Boner's a great guy, believe me. But he's like a dog. Has to mark his territory and that ...'

And with those words still ringing in his ears, Smyth was pulled away inside.

by Marc Oranje

~~

+

[ducklooney]

Duckvember - Growing, Bright, Burly and Free Space Duck (Ducks)

And now the scenes with dangerous actions. This is what I always wanted. Yes, drew two drawings related to three or four Duckvember topics. Certainly as adult ducks they light up their faces for positive purposes with a lot of strength fighting like superheroes against the main villains. Yes, they are not adults yet, but they are certainly older teenagers who are slowly entering adulthood as adolescents and taking things from their parents or teachers.

The first drawing I did was Huey, Dewey and Louie along with Gosalyn as superheroes acting together as Q-Squad (T-Squad with Gosalyn). Yeah, I'm a little nostalgic for the Quack Pack so I drew Huey, Dewey and Louie as superheroes, but through a different T-Squad. Huey is Red Shadow or red Darkwing Duck, Dewey is Blue Cyclops or blue Gizmoduck and Louie is Green Pk or green Duck Avenger (Paperinik Junior). Although the designs of these superheroes are not final, I would imagine them to be in line with their personalities. Yes, and there's Gosalyn as an older teenage girl as Quiverwing Quack, as the secret identity of a crime-fighting superhero shooter. There are already fanfictions and drawings about her, but since there are none with Donald's nephews, I added them since they would make a great team. I mean if Paperinik, Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck can work together, why not them. They also fight crime and villains in the night to protect Duckburg and St. Canard, and the world from various misfortunes.

Another drawing I did was Plucky Duck with his girlfriend Shirley the Loon who are on a completely different planet in a different solar system. Yes, since Plucky loves his teacher Daffy Duck he decided to follow in his footsteps and became the Duck Dodgers in the 24th and a half century. Like Daffy in Duck Dodgers where he defends the Earth from various enemies especially the Martians, Plucky follows in his footsteps and works as his mentor as the Green Duck Dodgers since Plucky is a green duck. Yes, there is also Shirley, who is a very underrated character in Tiny Toon Adventures and who practices meditation and some practical means and forbidden magic. Yes, Shirley became Shadow Loon and her character is very similar to Raven from DC and Teen Titans and together with Plucky they make a great team. Yes, they're older teenagers, so they're not the kids they used to be.

That's how I imagine these characters who grow up and become superheroes who take on serious tasks. Again, these are just my imaginings and my headcanons. I hope you like these ideas and these drawings.

[negativepeanuthoarder]

ok I had this wild dream last night that Q for whatever reason tried to copyright the phrase "Minecraft Manhunt" and he sent Dream a Cease and Desist to try and get him to either delete his manhunts or pay royalties and Dream said 'as if' and took him to court where they got in a fight and by a fight I mean Q got so pissed that he wasn't winning a court case that he couldn't reasonably win that he snapped and stormed over to Dream and punched him only for like All of Dream's burly security dudes to fucking dogpile him. Dream ended up winning the case but it turns out he was only counter-suing for 1$ and "the principle of it"

[vickyvicarious]

Before I get into the shit with Lucy today, a moment of appreciation for "Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., etc., etc."

(what do all those initials mean??? He's obviously Seward's next in command but it's so funny to see them all next to Seward's one "M. D." Most qualified man since Van Helsing?)

With regard to patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended with any unhappy results.

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Before I could get up to him the patient rushed at them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to knock his head against the ground. If I had not seized him just at the moment I believe he would have killed the man there and then. The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others were both burly men. At first he was silent in his fighting; but as we began to master him, and the attendants were putting a strait-waistcoat on him, he began to shout: 'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me! they shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!' and all sorts of similar incoherent ravings. It was with very considerable difficulty that they got him back to the house and put him in the padded room. One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set it all right; and he is going on well.

+

I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent.

This guy is hilarious! He goes "oh, a bit of an eventful day, but it all turned out fine, no need to worry. Renfield deliberately broke out yet again and this time tried to fucking murder a stranger. We fought him down with only a concussion and a broken finger to show for it. Enjoy your day off!"

Love that he also treated the head wound with grog, that's typical. Also, honestly it's a very good thing he was in charge rather than Seward tonight, because I do not think our usual doctor friend would be able to finesse that "don't sue us" social interaction in quite the same way. Maybe that's how they usually divide the roles... Seward as the main guy in charge for patients, Hennessey as the main point of contact for relatives or visitors.