#I feel like there are still a lot of details emerging about marcus

[outeremissary]

I was late to the asks so idk if you’re still doing them, but if you are…

💖,🌹,💜,🍆 for Marcus!!

Never too late! Seriously, as long as I can tell what prompt list something is responding to I'll try to answer even if it's months late. I usually only get like two asks max per list I post anyway. Though of course sometimes I get stuck on random ones and take months...

Anyway, from this list.

💖 Has your OC ever been in love, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise? Who with and did they ever express their feelings or keep it private? How long did these feelings persist / do they still feel this way?

The question saying "in love" makes it hard to see this as anything besides a romance despite how the rest is structured... "In love" has some pretty specific connotations in English, after all. I love my friends very deeply, but I'd never say I was in love with them. And I don't think anyone could discuss a familial relationship in relation to a sentence that started like that... but anyway. My late night grousing aside.

I suppose Marcus must have had a crush at some point when he was a kid, before things really went south with his family. He seems like the sort of person who would spend a lot of time agonizing over the perfect confession, even as a kid (maybe especially as a kid). He'd plan the date and time and event for confessing his feelings. He'd write and rewrite love poetry, getting more and more frustrated with it, and try to show an adult some for critique before getting nervous and snatching it away right as they began to read. He'd waffle back and forth on the poem, throwing it out and then taking it out of the trash and painstakingly rewriting it on nicer paper in his best cursive. And of course he'd be the sort to try to get a gift- it's the right thing to do, right? Flowers, chocolate, some cute little trinket. He'd figure all that out and probably have everything all assembled, and then the time would come and he wouldn't have the courage to go through with it. He'd hold it in and keep moping as long as it took the roses to wilt and the candy to be eaten. Then he'd try to forget all about it. He'd be awkward for ages afterwards. I have to imagine this was the basic template for his precocious crushes- some on peers, some on a particularly handsome teacher or mentor. Some known, some possibly requited, some not. And none of them went anywhere at all.

In the end, all his little affections and any lingering romantic angsts he might have had were ended abruptly by the crushing weight of an unexpected and early adulthood. When his family's fortune was lost and it became necessary for him to be a significant earner for the household he stopped thinking so much about others like that. I suppose it was all consumed by the anxiety he now feels interacting with anyone who could discover him. And it's all too much work, and he's so tired, and it could never work out. He just has to focus on his devotion to his family. That's all.

🌹 How easy is it for them to connect with others and make friends? On the flip side how easy is it for them to make an enemy of someone? Are they the kind of person who hangs around the food table at a party and never talks to anyone or are they the type who can talk to anyone?

It's not very easy for him to connect with others. He's good at coming across as polite or professional, but making actual connections is tricky. He's a somewhat standoffish person who can be intensely rules obsessed, judgmental, and moralizing, and he doesn't really understand how to positively interact with others while maintaining healthy boundaries or asserting his own needs. As a result he comes off as either intensely combative or as a serious doormat in most of his personal relationships. It's as unpleasant for him as it is for other people, but he tries not to dwell on it. It seems best not to connect anyway- after all, the other reason for his isolation is his need to maintain the secret of his double life to protect his family's reputation and cover for his father's failings.

I imagine that it's not hard for Marcus to make enemies, or at least to amass a list of people who really dislike him. See above. He's not really a charmer- you know as well as I! Most people dislike putting up with his abrasive attitude or find him to be a suckup. His perfectionist tendencies make him unpopular at his job as well- he's the type of person to ask to be added to projects just so that he can appoint himself the editor/person doing the final checks because he doesn't trust anyone else to do things correctly or to a reasonable standard. He always wants to correct things on other people's desks. And on top of that, he's late or absent so often... He's a hassle to work with! No one can argue with his results, but no one can tolerate him beyond that.

As for parties, you've seen that yourself. He's able to talk to anyone, but really he doesn't like to... once he's hit what he thinks is the mandatory threshold of polite interaction, he tries to find somewhere to stay out of the way.

💜 Music or Silence? Swords or Spells? Cities or Nature?

Silence. Not out of any dislike of music, it's just easier to work in quiet places. He appreciates quiet space to relax as well. I think for him there's an association between music and crowded or busy places. Big social situations seem a bit anxiety inducing for a number of reasons. He prefers spells to swords- swords aren't good for much, after all! You can use magic to communicate, to clean, to count things, for transportation, to heat your drink... What are swords good for? Showing off and killing. Both aren't very good things. He's not interested in either use. Between cities and nature he prefers cities- he's hardly ever been outside of Absalom. I think he hasn't spent much time in rural areas and he dislikes them simply for their unfamiliarity. City parks are fine though! Nature has to be something you can ingest in bites.

🍆 Tea or Coffee or Hot Chocolate? Sweet or Spicy? Fruits or Vegetables?

He's a serious coffee drinker. Not because he has any special passion for it, just because it's easy to get cheap, adequate coffee to stay awake for early shifts or overtime hours. He'd prefer sweets- once more, not out of any special passion for sweet things. He's got low spice tolerance and can easily get an upset stomach from spicy things. Something sugary is safer. Of fruits or vegetables, he'd prefer fruit. He just prefers the array of flavors- perhaps he likes natural sweetness after all? But he's not exactly picky about vegetables. He'll dutifully eat most foods he isn't very fond of, even if internally he's cringing.

[thinlinez]

End of Year Writer Rec

Disclaimer: I have never done a rec before but I feel like these writers who had made my 2022 with their wonderful fics deserve a shoutout! The list is in no particular order and I will also rec one fic from the writer from this year!

⭐ BrightGolden ao3: brightgolden @brightgolden

Reccing: Here's Your Perfect

In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his. However, he is nothing like the type of alpha that the omega academy prepares Harry for.

Your fics are my comfort and this one is no exception. I love how the way Lou's character evolved while H is his lovely self. Atticus is the perfect pup of course :)

⭐ Marchessa ao3: Marchessa @marchessa

Reccing: Now You're Lost, Lost In The Heat Of It All

The story of a great medieval Emperor and his consort.

Your Lou is fierce and your H fights to protect his countries. The way that they are falling in love is so sweet and I scream every time H touches Lou I swear. Their dynamic never fails to amuse me! Can't wait for the second installment.

⭐ bluegreenish ao3: bluegreenish @greenblueish

Reccing: Battle Of The Balls

The one where YouTubers Harry and Louis play Golf With Friends, go to the pub with Niall and return home six hours after posting the video.

I am the biggest sucker for banter and pure fluff and laughs. This one got me real good and I am glad that you wrote it based on your own fav Youtubers. This is really a nice and funny fic, too underrated :(

⭐ thebreadvan ao3: thebreadvan @thebreadvansstuff

Reccing: High heels on, 'm feeling alive��

Harry damages a car when drunkenly stumbling home after a fun night out with his friends. Feeling horribly guilty, he tries to find the owner and make it up to him.

Drunk H is the funniest and the build up is so great! Of course the smut is so on point, love it a lot. The idea is so fresh and simple too, I think that's why it's a fav of mine :)

⭐ allwaswell16 ao3:  allwaswell16  @allwaswell16

Reccing: Ace of Spades

Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

I remember reading it for the first time, thinking that I had an actual NOVEL in my hands... Later, after months, I read it again and again, there are so many things to unwrap in this fic. The details and characterization... I don't wanna spoil it to anyone but this one is worth a whole night reading. It is so wonderful! Pure talent goes into writing this and you have it!

⭐ wabadabadaba ao3: wabadabadaba @wabadabadaba

Reccing: Liquid Gold

Louis has a biting kink and the only person he thinks can fulfill it is his vampire friend, Harry.

This was HOT and funny tooooo, i love biting and marking concepts so I can definitely see how great this idea is and vampire H? Applause plz.

⭐ devilinmybrain ao3: devilinmybrain (venomedveins) @thedevilinmybrain

Reccing: i want to be just as close as the holy ghost is

Louis wants only three things in life - to pass his classes, to find a cure for hangovers after a night out with the lads, and to get church going, goodie two shoes omega Harry to go out with him.

This one is my fav so far although the Oli one is a close tie... Your omega H is so beautiful and that bondmark covering is very very cool and fresh idea. Love it.

⭐ localopa ao3: localopa @voulezloux

Reccing: i’m still standing (after all this time) 

dubbed the modern elton john, harry is the biggest thing to come to pop music. topping the charts, there isn’t anyone who can dethrone him. until pop punk trio funeral for fire emerges on the scene.

The cute meet, the banter, damn Marcus, Funeral For Fire, there is a lot of angst I am not gonna lie, but of course, it is a fav and so good too!

⭐ fearsparks ao3:  fearsparks @onlythebravest

Reccing: dream about a summer night 

Working alongside each other as camp counsellors, Harry and Louis grow closer than they’ve ever been before. That’s not a problem, but now they have these newfound feelings for each other to deal with.

This fic reminded me of my own summer camp experiences and it was nice to picture the settings and everything. Of course, friends to lovers and the pining got me real good... Love how it played out!

⭐ Neondiamond ao3: Neondiamond @neondiamond

Reccing: On Thin Ice

As the goaltender for one of the best hockey teams in the world, Harry never expected participating in his second winter Olympics would be so eventful. His hidden long-term relationship with the captain of their biggest rival team may have something to do with it.

This fic kinda schooled me on hockey stuff and the smut is well written. It is fun to see them trying to hide :)

⭐ ohpleaselarry ao3: ohpleaselarry @ohpleaselarry

Reccing: Night Song

Whatever happens to Louis’ heart, he doesn’t care. It’s up to Harry now. It belongs to him; completely. a Howl’s Moving Castle au

Putting some twists into the original plot line is so creative, I haven't read the book yet, but the movie is a classic of course. There can never be enough Ghibli fics!

⭐ ishiplouis ao3:  ishiplouis  @pocketsunshineharry

Reccing: I Like You, Say It Back

the one where it takes a lot of time for Harry and Louis to figure it out. But they do, they always do, don't they?

I finished this in one sitting and I love your H in this one! Lou is always so gentle with him and H's sassiness fits him so well, love it!!

⭐ alwaysxlarrie ao3: alwaysxlarrie @alwaysxlarrie

Reccing: i swear i could give you everything

Louis Tomlinson was not a morning person, so he really should have known better than to start leaving secret notes on coworker Harry Styles' desk before he arrived at the office at 7:30 each morning. But he did have to admit that hearing Harry's reaction everyday was definitely worth it. Not being a morning person might be his downfall in this situation, though. Talk about self sabotage.

This fic made me laugh a lot especially the notes and when Lou got caught! It is a delight to read!

⭐ tommokat ao3: tommokat @tommokat

Reccing: Orange You Juice The Cutest

there's only one carton of orange juice left and two men have to decide which one of them gets it.

Cute meet my forever love, this one is more like a funny meet and Ernie was so funny too, love the witty dialogues and the bantering :)

⭐ iminthisstanshit ao3:  iminthisstanshit @iminthisstanshit

Reccing: Four Souls Of The Seasons

 the poetic fairytale in which they are the four souls of the seasons

Watching this fic growing and getting posted was a journey! I love how each of the boys are a season and they corresponded with their personalities. This is more poetry than fic I would say :)

⭐ huggieshalo (Candypie14) ao3: huggieshalo (Candypie14) @huggieshalo

Reccing: You Can Let it Go

An alternative story where Harry is Matilda, who never stayed with Miss Honey and had to leave with his awful family. After years of being closed off, someone shows him that his life doesn't have to stay the way it is…

Seeing H struggling in this was hard, but I am glad he finally faced his fears and confronted his family. This was a nice twist on the song and original movie of course!

Go show every fic and writer some love! Happy end of year everyone!

[cazimagines]

I absolutely A D O R E D your Laszlo’s long lost daughter HCs! Such an interesting concept & I loved reading about their relationship developing! I would love a sequel, maybe other people’s reactions? Like Sara, John, Isaacsons, Roosevelt? Would they be told or would they figure it out? & when? Or just generally Society™️? I’m curious if you think they’d go public/be open about the info or keep it secret or just private, etc.? I wanna hear how you imagine the aftermath (a part of me can’t help but remember the opera scene in 1:02 where that guy has all his ‘nieces’ & people assuming that’s what’s going on w Las & this ‘mysterious young woman’ & their mortified/tired af reactions to this nonsense)

- 🦇

Bat anon!!! How are you? I love getting your requests, they are always so detailed 💞

Link to the first part here

- When you and Laszlo had first learnt about your connection, you both agreed it would be best to keep it a secret between the both of you. You two wanted to grow closer, to learn more about each other without the watchful or curious eyes of your friends and wider society. Both you and Laszlo had gained quite the reputation within the newspaper for your antics, Laszlo for his profession and beliefs, the way he would but himself into places people didn't want him to be. And for you how you were working with Sara at a woman's detective industry, that in on its self caused rumours to fly about you. You and Laszlo knew if they caught wind of it, the newspapers would have a felid day.

- However, with the increasing amount of time you two spent together your friends did begin to grow suspicious. John most of all. He considered himself Laszlo's best friend, he considered himself the only person who would be able to stand Laszlo for so long. So to suddenly see Laszlo spending more time with you, cancelling appointments in John in favour of you, it did upset him to some degree. But John could also understand. Though there was a certain age gap. so the same could be said with him and Sara and after all the heart wants what the heart wants. John started to tease Laszlo about it, joking that when Laszlo's mind was adrift with thoughts, that he was thinking about you, When Laszlo said he was heading out for the evening John would joke he was going to see you. Laszlo was in fact but he hadn't quite grasped what John had been hinting at, and so instead gave John a confused glare before leaving.

- It was only when you went round to Laszlo's house when John was realising did everything boil down. John made another remark and instantly it clicked in your mind what John thought. Turning to glare at him with your arm resting upon Laszlo, you inform him that Laszlo was your father.

- John's face paled and his eyes widened as he glanced between the two of you as you both stared at him. He would move wordlessly and the glass of wine within his hand almost slipped out. Finally, his voice cracked as he looked at Laszlo and said "you're daughter?" to which Laszlo replied sarcastically. It took a while for John to adjust to the thought of Laszlo being a father, often he would stare at the two of you, analysing your faces to find all the similarities but as he watched you more even he could start to realise just how similar the two of you were. He had always joked about the horrors of having a mini Laszlo within the world but seeing everything you did, he felt proud for Laszlo for having an amazing daughter, Now now he considered yourself like your uncle and would occasionally steal you away from Laszlo to treat you to a day out, one which Laszlo would grumble at when he found out.

- Sara was less dense than John. She was able to figure it out on her own without you or Laszlo needing to tell her. You two were just too similar for her not to notice. It left her in the unfortunate position however of trying to inform you that she had figured it out. One day she had invited you out to the park in an attempt to inform you about it. Gradually she moved your polite conversation onto the topic of fathers, trying to fight back some of the tears as she was reminded of her own father and how that had ended. You gently reminded her that you didn't know your father and she followed that on by saying how close you and Laszlo seemed to be, that one could mistake you two as if being daughter and father. That is when you knew she had figured it out. The conversation ended with you and Sara hugging each other, tears streaming in happiness.

- Laszlo felt comfortable with his two closest friends knowing, but he knew eventually John wouldn't be able to keep the secret within himself, and that proved true when Laszlo opened the door to find Theordore awkwardly standing on the other side. Laszlo sighed letting him in. As it turns out John and Theodore had gone horse riding outside in the park and their conversation had turned to their nights out, especially of all the times Laslzo ended up drunk and John knowing what had happened on one of those said nights, couldn't hold it within himself and told Theodore. Theodore was quite shocked by the news, for he had his own daughters but they were much younger than you, still he felt now that Laszlo himself had a daughter it was only just right he came over to congratulate Laszlo and discuss father antics, even though there was a significant age range. Laszlo found the topics awkward but amusing and appreciated Theodores attempts at making Laszlo feel more accustomed to fatherhood.

- You had met the twins before with yours and Sara's own cases, you'd worked with them and found them both quite charming. Certainly, you enjoyed the company of Marcus. He always tried to find ways to make you laugh, showing you in detail his work and explaining it carefully to you. You found he had the loveliest of smiles. You were delighted when you discovered they were well acquainted with your father as well but you had the urge to tell them but you didn't know exactly how to go about it. So you broke the news casually to them. Marcus briefly mentioned something about Laszlo and you just replied, "ah yes, my father" both of the men froze in shock, Marcus dropping what was in his hand. After you the situation they were fascinated by it and we're eager to talk to Laszlo about it next who was still quite bashful about the situation and their numerous questions, but you found Marcus talking to Laszlo a lot more afterwards as if trying to gain his good opinion.

- Of course with your and Laszlo's fondness for the opera you two often visited it together and often people used operas not for the entertainment but for the number of rumours they could spread. Now that you and Laszlo had made quite a few frequent appearances at the opera, the rumours were starting to grow. Laszlo the man who seemed so alienated and different from the rest of the society, turning up to lots of operas accompanied by a young woman, one also known for her striking disposition. Everyone latched onto it and the rumours spread quickly. You and Laszlo were rather detected from people like that and therefore were not aware of what people were saying about the two of you. It was John who found out when someone was about to publish the rumours in the newspaper. He rushed to the institute where he found Laszlo and explained the situation. Laszlo became very angry at the audacity people had to spread such rumours about you. It also made him extremely uncomfortable knowing what people were thinking about him and his own daughter. With urgency, he and John went to the newspaper office and the next morning the story of Laszlo and his daughter emerged.

- Laszlo was nervous thinking you might not have wanted everyone to know yet and would leave town not wanting to be around him, but instead, you were happy to finally be able to acknowledge your own father without having to try and hide any of it from society, that you could finally say to people that Dr Laszlo Kreizler was indeed your father and you were exceedingly proud.

TAGS: @wonderwoman292 @justreadingficsdontmindme @thehuiabird @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing@shrekboobies @arianalilyblack @zemosimp420 @kadeuuijib @lieutenantn @neoarchipelago @cable-kenobi @edencherries @faustlyaccused @julyvegan @prestigious-tea @hannahbal-the-fannibal @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @competitivepomegranate @welcometothemxdhouse @flutterskies @rumblelibrary @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sky-writes-stuff @rhinestxn-e @davianos-blog @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @mywinterivy @the-webkinz-killer @xxlumos @cathana2264 @ajokeformur-ray @nev3rfound @unbeatablecurlgirl @barnesxnobles

[vintagedaydreams]

True Love Never Runs Smoothly Part 5 (Marcus)

Hello, lovelies! You’ve all been so patient – thank you!

Here is Chapter 5 of the Marcus story arc. I wasn’t going to post it yet, but…I’m not sure what else I’d add to it for now, so here ya go. 😊

Enjoy!!

Warnings: Suicidal/depressed thoughts/mentions, language.

@kettnerjanea​ @jelly-fishy-babie​ @the-graceful-ace @amwolowicz​ @batsdothings​ @waxingmoonstone​ @littlebabybatthings @mauvette268​ @katsav17​ @batsuperflashmartianwonderman​ @imyourapocalypse​ @chubbybbt​ 

A few hours of reading put you into a much more relaxed frame of mind and when Edward announced it was time to head out to the garden for lunch, you were actually eager. And hungry.

You, Bella and Edward headed out from the library and you were a bit surprised to see Aro, Sulpicia, Marcus and Athenodora already gathered around an honest picnic blanket. Quilted and everything.

(You couldn’t help the somewhat panicked glance for a blonde head, but you breathed a sigh of relief when Caius was no where to be found. Good. You weren’t quite ready to face him yet. He was a lot…scarier than the rest.)

Aro’s sudden laugh at something his mate said, surprisingly had you relaxing from the unknowingly tensed stance you’d taken up.

You could do this. This was totally fine. All these people -vampires- you could trust. They had proven time and again during your short stay here that they were on your side. They believed in you and in your worth.

A gentle, cold hand settled on your back and Edward guided you forward towards the waiting party.Your stomach growled to help propel you the rest of the way. Honestly, your stomach and emotions had ruled your entire moves since you got here. 

And you weren’t incredibly thrilled by that.

You really needed to get back to your own, non-supernatural, much less confusing world where things actually made more sense and you were more in control.

The three of you reached the blanket and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion when you were “subtly” maneuvered to sit next to Marcus. 

You looked first at Edward and Bella and then to Aro and the Queens – all of whom suddenly found themselves busy with something and couldn’t meet your eyes.

For vampires, they really weren’t all that sneaky. You almost wanted to glance at Marcus to see if he had figured out something was a bit hinky but you were too nervous to do that. It was one thing to…joke?...about being with Marcus with Edward and even Aro, but having the man sitting next to you, a freaking King sitting next to you was a little different.

And whole lot more nerve wracking.

Shaking your head slightly, you decided to just go with it. If you thought it over too much, you’d end up making it all awkward. And since you didn’t want to ruin the good mood you’d been in mostly all day, you sat and started making yourself a plate of food.

The sun was ducking in and out between clouds and you found yourself fascinated by the shimmer of the vampires sitting around the quilt spread out on the perfectly manicured lawn.

Everyone was talking and laughing – all very cozy, all very familial feeling. You and Bella were the only ones eating, obviously, but the five vampires around you were sipping glasses of what you assumed was blood.Edward had one too and you hoped for his sake it was animal blood. 

The brief nod the bronze haired telepath sent you confirmed it and you felt yourself relax even more.Edward had been good to you this entire time and you didn’t want him to suffer at all during this…odd situation.

The conversation suddenly seemed to change to include you and Bella even more and you threw yourself into it whole-heartedly. Both because the topic was one you could talk for hours on and also to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

Yet, despite how involved you were in the new conversation, you couldn’t completely shake the awareness you had of Marcus and his every move.

Marcus.

Marcus was…he was an absolute gem.

You didn’t know if he was in on this whole ‘matchmaking’ thing or if he was just a gentleman, but he was attentive. And sweet.

Though he too engaged in the conversations around the blanket, any time you needed anything, he was there with it. More drink? He was already offering you the pitcher. More finger food? The tray was suddenly hovering off to your side to chose from. Whenever you had something to add – which was often – you had his undivided attention.

It was…exhilarating. 

It brought up all the things Athenodora had mentioned being Marcus’ mate would entail. And judging by her smirks and knowing looks, she knew you were mentally revisiting her conversation with you.

And she hadn’t been wrong. On any point. 

Marcus was attentive, charming and was catering to your every need. If Marcus was this attentive when you weren’t anyone important to him, when you hardly knew each other, just how much more attentive would he be if you were his Bond Mate?

A brief sour feeling swept through your stomach at the thought of your own messed up Bond. Oh, what you’d give to have him as a Mate instead!

This small taste of what a caring Bond Mate could be just drove the proverbial knife in a little deeper. Why was this impossible for you to have even when you had a Mate?

A light touch to your elbow had you looking over at Marcus in surprise. 

“Are you alright, Cara?” he asked just loud enough for you to hear over the conversations still going on around you. 

You gave a small smile and visibly shook off your dark thoughts. This was no time to get depressed again. These vampires were doing this picnic luncheon – mostly – for you. You would not have their efforts go to waste. Even if you didn’t have anything worth a King’s attention.

“Yes, thank you,” you said after a brief moment. “I’m fine.”

Hazy red eyes started into your own before the vampire king gave a gentle nod and Aro effortlessly included you back into the conversation.

Alright, you took back your earlier thought.

Perhaps they were a little sneaky.

---

That afternoon was one of the best afternoons you’d had in ages. 

All of the stories and rumors you’d heard of the Volturi, mostly from the awesome backstabbing, vicious Cullen crew, were blown out of the water as soon as Edward and Aro got into a friendly, yet heated debate over the best vacationing spots in Europe. Of all the things to argue about, they argued about tourist traps. (Though for probably different reasons.) 

Edward had finally been declared the victor, (since Aro hadn’t left Volterra in centuries except for dire ruling emergencies), and Aro was good naturedly pouting about it. Which Sculpicia took as an invitation to spirit him away for some ‘comfort’.

Nobody had any confusion as to what exactly that meant.

Athenodora was the next to leave, citing Ciaus as an excuse. You were still super wary of the violent blonde vampire, so you didn’t call her on her obvious escape tactic. But honestly, with all the knowing looks being thrown across the blanket, it was a very obvious ploy.

That left you, Marcus, Edward and Bella.

As soon as Edward opened his mouth, you were already glaring at him.

Seriously? You sent out mentally. And just what is your excuse going to be?

Edward, the bastard, just responded to your mental questioning with a smirk and made up some cock and bull excuse about Bella needing her rest.

This time, you didn’t keep your doubts inside your head.

“Her rest?” you repeated deadpan with a raised brow. “It’s like…not even dinner time yet.”

“Well, I’ve been sleeping less lately,” Bella started and you help up a hand with a dramatic cringe.

“Bella, I don’t want to know. Please. Spare me the torrid details of you and Edward sharing a room.”

You weren’t  sure who sputtered in outrage more, Bella or Edward, but it was amusing all the same.

“I shall bring Y/N back inside once she’s ready,” Marcus finally spoke up, a hint of humor in his voice. 

Despite the nerves that shot through you at the idea of being alone with him, you gave the still embarrassed Edward and Bella a grin.

“You kids go have fun uh…resting,” you said angelically. If they were all going to leave you with Marcus for some hair brained match making idea, well…you wouldn’t go quietly.

Edward snorted at your thoughts, but dutifully escorted Bella away and back into the castle.

You felt a little of your tension returning as they disappeared from sight. Obviously, you weren’t any good at any of this, or your own Bond Mate would want you. You were a little lost about what to say or do with a King!

But Marcus, once again, proved to be the perfect gentleman and started up a conversation you couldn’t help but join in to. 

He smoothly and easily kept it going, not letting any awkward pauses or silences fill the air, (you were sure that with your nerves, especially at first, you made him work hard to accomplish that), and you found yourself relaxing bit by bit.

The more you spoke with Marcus, the less you seemed to remember exactly who you were speaking to.

Honestly, the Vampire world didn’t give this King enough credit. He was charming, witty and ridiculously smart. And yet, he didn’t make you feel stupid by comparison. He valued your input and complemented your ideas and insights.

And if that wasn’t enough, his laugh and sparkling eyes would have been.

You’d heard stories of the King who was heartbroken and had lost all will to live.

Based on what you’d seen today, or since you’d gotten here really, Marcus was now a completely different vampire. Part of you, a very small part of you, flattered yourself in thinking that it was because of you. You tried not to think about that whenever Aro or Edward were around. (Quite honestly, you tried not to think about that period. Because how mortifying would it be when that turned out not to be true? And why would it be true?)

“I just don’t see it,” Marcus broke into your thoughts and you blinked, finding his face closer to yours then it was before.

“Huh?” you asked intelligently, mind struggling to catch up.

“I don’t see how any vampire could walk away from you and the Bond,” the quiet King murmured, red eyes roving every inch of your face in what you’d call reverence on anyone else.

You gave a self-depreciating smile, but it slipped when the handsome face in front of your dropped into a scowl.

“Aro told me about your ideas of your self worth and value,” Marcus said lowly. 

You tried valiantly to suppress a shiver at the sudden gravely tone. 

“That is also something I do not see. How you can think so low of yourself when you are as amazing as you are is something I do not understand.”

A blush lit fire to your cheeks and your eyes widened comically as cold, gentle fingers brushed against your jawline.

“So beautiful,” came the hushed voice. 

You bashfully lowered your eyes, completely at a loss as to what you were supposed to do or say. This wasn’t exactly a situation you expected to find yourself in when you accompanied everyone to Italy.

“It seems that my brother and sister-in-laws have an idea that involves the two of us.”

Your eyes shot back up to meet his gently amused ones.

“O-Oh,” you stuttered out, “I think that was…I don’t think they meant…It’s not—”

An icy finger pressed itself against your lips, silencing your floundering.

“I am myself intrigued at the idea,” Marcus murmured, a small smile flitting across his lips. “My Didyme was the light of my life and when she died, a very large portion of me did as well. But I am finding that pieces of that missing part are coming back. I’d very much like to explore this possibility that they have presented us with. If you are willing.”

You just stared at him. If you were willing? Willing to what exactly? And he was intrigued by their idea? What kind of Twilight Zone was this? Where the King of the Undead wants to…to…have a relationship? With a human? With you?

A zing of arousal shot through you as Marcus gently ran the finger pressed against your lips back and forth – a gentle caress that his hooded eyes followed.

A slight flair of his nostrils and those hooded eyes were now boring into your own. 

You swallowed and opened your mouth, watching red eyes glance back down at your lips before moving back up to meet yours.

“I’d…be willing,” you said softly after a long moment, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach as your lips grazed his finger when you spoke. 

He had yet to remove it. 

And it didn’t seem like he was inclined to, if the caressing he’d started up again was any indication.

“Good,” came the throaty response, red eyes once again tracking his finger that was softly tracing your lips before he looked back up at you with a somewhat feral grin.

“I promise you that you won’t regret it.” 

[electricbluebutterflies]

November prompts 37 + kabby, PLEASE

This ended up being about body issues and power dynamics and... it’s THEM, what can I say. Post-s2-grayspace (canon-friendly for once), PG13ish, and also on ao3.

The way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire not to disturb the air around him.

It has been years since he’s let anyone look.

Avoiding being seen is near impossible – the Guard offered little privacy, and years past finding his ways around it, Marcus has made his peace. But he knows how to make sure it doesn’t matter. Change clothes as quickly as possible, keep his back to others, don’t give anyone reason to pay attention. What matters is his body is capable, not how he feels about it.

Even here on the ground those old habits have held. Communal showers are a layer of hell, but also generally deserted in the middle of the night, and his habits veer nocturnal anyways. The only other people likely to use this space at this hour are those whose sleeping arrangements and sexual inclinations are in disconnect, and desperate lovers tend not to pay attention to anything outside each other. He’s not worried anyone will notice him.

It’s become a ritual these last few weeks, since the situation stabilized enough for routines to develop. Every third night, around when the moon is highest, he cleans himself quickly but thoroughly. Eyes closed as much as possible, avoiding everything he can. Safer this way. Always safer.

First the ritual of undressing. Boots kicked off, everything else carefully removed and neatly folded. This part is done slowly, always, checking himself for any bruises or scrapes he might not have noticed. Tracing the scar on his forearm after he sheds his jacket, tracing the invisible pain lines on his thigh when that too is visible. He should’ve died by now. His continued survival on the ground feels like some kind of cosmic mistake, a life intended for someone else, some other man who’d actually earned it. He hasn’t. But nothing’s managed to get him yet, not for lack of trying, and-

He hears the door click open and a single set of footsteps follow. Dammit. He has memorized the insomnia patterns of roughly two hundred people and he still cannot pin who this might be and-

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t let me stop you.”

Great, the last person he wants anywhere near him when he’s in a spiral. Cosmic mistake, he is convinced.

Marcus turns his head and somehow, in the time it’s taken him to convince himself this is not the cause of the inevitable heart attack and/or brain aneurism that will probably kill him someday because why wouldn’t his death be tragically boring and mundane, Abby has managed to completely strip down. Not that he ever needed to know this, but it turns out her I-am-so-done-with-you expressions look almost the same in that state, her arms still crossed under her full breasts and her eyes still trying to glare right through him.

If he had any sense left, he’d give up and run. He has never been able to make the right choices.

“What?” she says, like this is all perfectly normal and maybe for her it is. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

Yes, and that was in an emergency-medical sort of context and that focuses one’s mind in appropriate directions. This current situation has no such pressure, and he is looking. She has a softness to her despite everything, subtle curves and a certain stubborn femininity to her and-

It’s just as well the rest of his body isn’t facing her. This could get awkward.

He knows not to blame her for his physical reactions. The fact that his prick is suddenly very awake is his own failure as a man, not because she’s meant to provoke him, and somehow that realization is progress but still unhelpful. His normal strategy of just ignoring that part of his body until it behaves is not going to work fast enough here and-

“While you’re here and being weird, could you help me do my hair?”

On second thought, she just might be trying to provoke him. One can never know with that woman.

Abby has maneuvered herself under a showerhead now, turned it on and apparently decided to take advantage of the middle-of-the-night hot water tank. She moves her body like she knows he can’t look away, as if this is the most normal thing in the world for her, and he suddenly wonders how much of this is planned. He wouldn’t put it past her, if she were trying to seduce him, to do any of this. He wouldn’t-

“Could you close your eyes?” he asks, trying to gauge how cooperative she is tonight.

“Why? I’ve seen you before, you don’t have any weird scars or-“

“Other reason.”

Her eyes light up, practically glowing in the badly lit space. Frightful woman. “I trust you not to do anything I don’t initiate,” she laughs. “And I won’t make any comments.”

Marcus isn’t sure how much he believes her, but he is not going to undo the past few months of trying over this and he turns his body towards her all too aware she will look. All too aware she will see every detail he would hide, every minor flaw. He wouldn’t have voluntarily done this before… he’s not sure when they changed, really. Somewhere between falling to the ground and him overreacting to things he knew she’d do and both of them nearly dying a couple times, they got comfortable with each other, or at least he got comfortable with her. She’s never had the issues he does, he’s sure of it, nothing in her current posture suggests an attempt to hide or-

At least she isn’t subtle.

As strange as this all is for him, it’s made easier by the fact that Abby has always been an easy person for him to read. She wants what she wants and likes what she likes, and he doesn’t have to ask what’s running through her mind as she slowly looks him over. Some part of her, some dominant force in that impulse-driven black hole of her mind, wants him all over her right now. And he’d almost let her, if she asked, and-

“You wanted me to do your hair?” he asks, trying to distract her. It’s not an issue of want so much as this doesn’t feel like the right time or place for their inevitability. When they happen, and he’s known for weeks now that they would build to this, it needs to be better than testing the stability of partition walls.

“I want you to do a lot of things right now,” Abby counters, and he’s never seen her this playful for this long and it’s almost terrifying. “But yeah, if that’s what you’re comfortable with…”

He moves behind her, takes soap in hand and does what he can. Her hair is thick and surprisingly tangled given it was in her usual braid just minutes ago, and she makes pretty noises as he touches her. Frustrating woman, he’s not doing anything that should provoke her and yet-

He kisses the top of her head, their size difference just enough to make that easy, and she makes a high sound and no he cannot let this go further. Not like this, not tonight.

“Are you scared of me?” she asks as he works a knot out of the lower part of her hair, brushing his fingers against her back more than necessary.

“Why would I… you think that’s what it is?!”

“Ruled out everything else, so… yeah, I think you’re scared of me specifically because I see right through you and you think I’m going to say something and-“

“I am like that with everyone.” And yet he is having this conversation with her, because she’s right, she does see through him, no one else has ever openly noticed how he is and-

“That’s not comforting.” Abby turns her head, looking up at him through her curtain of wet hair. “If you… if something’s wrong…”

“It’s not like that. I can want to keep people from looking and still go on with my life.”

She rolls her eyes. “No wonder those rumors had legs.”

“Rumors?”

“Why you never did anything more than casual sex. And I’m not judging, personal preferences happen, but…”

She is definitely judging, he knows her too well to believe otherwise, but that’s clearly not the point here.

“I would prefer not to let myself be vulnerable,” he says after a few moments’ silence. “That’s all it is.”

“But you’re here with me.”

“You already know too much,” he murmurs. “If you wanted to go after me, this isn’t where you’d start.”

“Wouldn’t be any fun to take you down. You’ve gotten boring.” She leans up and presses her lips to his jaw, and it’s somehow heartbreaking and all he can do to pretend otherwise. Thank goodness for his beard and bad lighting. “Not that I mind, turns out I have so much free time now that I’m not focusing my entire life on outsmarting you, but…”

“Is there a compliment in there somewhere?”

“I would not have let you touch me three months ago. I would not have voluntarily been this vulnerable around you three months ago. Right now I am not at all worried what you might do and you’re less than a foot away from me and half-hard. This is my trust fall.”

“I am… you can ignore…”

“See that exactly is my point. You’re not trying to get pity sex out of me or… I doubt you would’ve done anything forceful even at your worst but I can’t rule that out. You are not a threat to me anymore and you’re barely even a pest most days and that’s weird as hell and-“

“I’m trying,” he murmurs. “You make me want to try.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she says, reaching around him to shut the water off. “I’m not your salvation, Marcus. You need to find that in yourself. Not in me.”

She walks away, swinging her hips as she walks over to where she’s piled her things, and he feels like lightning just struck him. Like this is the kind of thing that could only ever happen between them, because no one else will ever see him as thoroughly as she does. There’s a safety in it too, a certainty that everything that happened tonight will stay between them because for a person of her position she has very few friends and who would she even tell about this and-

“I’m not sure what you did, but thank you.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, hands paused as she tries to put her bra back on. “I’m not sure I did anything at all, but you’re welcome.”

[arotechno]

The Heartless: Chapter 2

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Chapter II: in which plans are made

The following day, I dodged further confrontation with Bertrand with practiced ease and crept out of the house and down to the local bowyer’s shop down the road with my proverbial tail between my legs, in the mood to sulk. The shop always smelled faintly of sawdust and freshly cut wood, and Marley always had some new project sprawled across her battered workbench. Many years ago, she had been the one to make me my bow, after I wouldn’t stop showing up at her door asking to see what she was working on. Its strong and sturdy construction still held firm today, something she always told me was the mark of a true craftsman. I had helped her cut the wood myself, barely tall enough to see over the top of the workbench and having to stand on a crate to properly reach the saw.

At the sound of the door, Marley emerged from the back room, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her arm.

“Ace, what a pleasant surprise!”

She came around to lean back against the counter while I made myself at home in the chair by the front door.

“What’s troubling you?” she asked.

I looked up to see a knowing smile on Marley’s face and grimaced.

“How did you know something was troubling me?” I questioned.

Marley chuckled. “Please, it’s written all over your face!”

Hastily, I attempted to neutralize my expression, but based on the amused look that flashed across Marley’s face, it likely only made things worse.

“Well, spill,” she commanded, wiping her hands on her work apron. “You’ve already waltzed in like you own the place, so out with it.”

Ignoring her usual taunts, I sighed and rested my elbows on my knees.

“I ran into a little trouble last night,” I began hesitantly.

Marley’s eyebrows jumped into her hairline, revealing the wrinkles that were beginning to take shape on her forehead. “Oh? Do tell.”

I launched into a retelling of the previous night, from the moment I woke up after supper until my squabble with Bertrand, leaving out the specific details of my dream. Throughout the tale, Marley listened intently, nodding along.

“It sounds like you were in the right place at the right time,” she commented when I had finished. “But just be glad it was just a couple of kids looking for trouble, and nothing more than that.”

“That’s all it ever is, Marley,” I countered. “And the fact that it’s just some kids says nothing about the potential danger.”

“Well, of course. But there’s a marked difference between a few stray troublemakers and a planned attack.”

“You don’t realize what kids are capable of. Someone could have died.”

“I know, Ace.” Marley held up a hand to halt my anxious rambling. “You’re always on edge, always anticipating some danger that isn’t sure to ever come. Is that Bertrand’s influence on you?”

I shook my head. “Bertrand doesn’t get it. All he cares about is breaking the curse.”

Marley sighed. “He’s an old man, set in his ways. Heaven knows what he’s been put through in his life. You’re the only person who ever talks to him.”

I shrugged glumly. “We don’t quite understand each other.”

“Well, understanding takes a lot of work. We all know that better than anyone.” Marley pushed off the counter and gestured to the back room. “You want to help me sand down some wood for a while? You can’t sulk if you’re working.”

I smiled. “Sure,” I responded, and rose from my chair to follow Marley into the back of the shop.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the rift between me and Bertrand grew steadily wider, and the little old house buzzed with static whenever both of us were in it. We rarely spoke, save for a few muttered pleasantries in the mornings and at supper. Every night, I crept up to the big oak tree down the road and perched there, watching for Petra, and sometimes I saw her dart out of the woods with another sack full of looted food. Sometimes she saw me up in the tree and paused, raising a finger to her lips before running onward.

Knife Boy never followed her. Sometimes I wished he would.

The weather was growing warmer and the days longer, which only gave me more time to think and Bertrand more time to agonize over breaking a centuries-old curse. Throughout all this time, the nightmares never ceased. Knife Boy’s smug, slimy grin eventually faded, unmasking the demons I had kept under lock and key for years. Some of them were creations of my own mind, but by far the most harrowing ones were true.

“And then,” Basil whispered, pausing for effect, “when they turned the corner, the whole village had disappeared!”

There was silence. Basil looked back and forth around the circle, anticipating a reaction. Finally, Carita spoke up next to me.

“That wasn’t very scary,” she complained, rolling her eyes. “Why would a village just disappear?”

I saw Basil stare at me out of the corner of his eye and smirk. “I don’t know, Carita,” he replied. “Ace seemed pretty scared to me.”

I felt my face heat up as several pairs of eyes landed on me. I couldn’t be sure if my expression really betrayed my fear, or if Basil was just pretending so the other children would think he was a good storyteller. “D-Did not!” I cried.

“It doesn’t matter, I have a scarier story,” announced Marcus, “And this one’s true.” A chorus of gasps rang out from around the circle. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes--I was never Marcus’ biggest fan--but I quickly sobered up as he began his tale. “It happened hundreds of years ago. There’s a legend that says there was once an evil, terrible wizard who put a curse on our entire kingdom. For the rest of time, there would be children born in the kingdom without hearts.” He paused for dramatic effect, to striking results. “Most people think they’re really out there, probably living at the edge of the kingdom somewhere.”

“I-Is that true?” someone piped up from somewhere across the circle. I sat mostly frozen, combatting feelings of otherness and plucking blades of grass out of the dirt absentmindedly so Marcus would think I was simply uninterested.

Marcus scoffed, “Of course it’s true. My grandpa told it to me. But he said they don’t feel any emotions, so it’s dangerous to go there.”

Hesitantly, I stole a glance across the circle at Basil and was surprised to find him staring at his feet out in front of him, mouth set in a deep frown. It was the quietest he’d ever been.

  I woke up with a familiar crick in my neck and an ache in my hip from sleeping curled up on the uncomfortable cot. I could hear Bertrand tinkering away in his study, where he had likely been all night for what had to be at least the fourth day in a row. My nightclothes were soaked with sweat, so after a humble breakfast of a slice of old bread and some jam, I peeled them off and wrung them through the wash before hanging them outside on the line to dry.

It was still early, just after sunrise, so the Village of the Heartless was quiet, with just a few people outside tending their gardens that had been pillaged overnight by groundhogs and squirrels. Dawn was as serene as the Village ever got, after the danger of night had lifted but before most people awoke. I stood there outside the house for a long time, soaking in some much needed peace. Outside, the tension between me and Bertrand could not reach me, and neither could the nightmares that plagued my sleep.

Nevertheless, my lingering thoughts followed me all the way from the front door to the back garden behind the house. Dewdrops clung to the heads of lettuce that had continued to sprout overnight, and against the wall grew the selection of herbs that Bertrand kept for his potions. I walked amongst the rows and filled in holes dug by chipmunks with the toe of my shoe, grumbling all the while.

“Ace!” Came the call of a familiar voice from down the road. I turned to see Petra jogging up to the fence, oozing with her usual enthusiasm and zest for life. She came to a screeching halt at the garden gate and shot me a grin.

“You’re up and about early,” I remarked.

“I could say the same to you.” Petra stepped up between the wooden slats of the fence and leaned over the edge. “You said we could have target practice this morning, don’t you remember?”

Realization sprouted within me. Ever since I first caught Petra sneaking around and getting into trouble, I’d resolved to teach her to shoot a bow and arrow, for self-defense purposes. If she was going to run around committing petty theft throughout the kingdom despite my warnings, I couldn’t exactly let her do so undefended. However, my dream had caused our plans for that morning to completely slip my mind.

Our chosen practice area was a secluded grove at the forest’s edge, just a brief walk from the far end of town furthest from the village gates. There, the trees grew sturdy and untouched by agriculture, perfect for hanging up targets I had drawn onto old sheets of burlap. When we arrived that morning, I passed Petra my bow and arrow and took several deliberate steps back.

My body was present in the clearing, but my mind drifted elsewhere, wandering back to some distant meadow that now lived only in my subconscious. Each day, the nightmares became harder to shake, and the gnawing feeling in my gut became harder to ignore.

"Ace? Are you paying attention?”

I snapped back to the target range, my eyes darting around the clearing until they found purchase; Petra was staring at me incredulously over her shoulder, bow hanging limp at her side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Did you say something?” I inquired, trying to make my voice sound casual.

Petra frowned. “I asked if my form was better that time, but you were spacing out again.” She paused and turned her body to face me properly. “Are you alright?”

I was unsure how to answer. I’d never told Petra very much about Basil, or anyone in my home village for that matter--my stories were always intentionally vague, leaving out names and other personal details to avoid revealing too much. But it became clear to me now that as Petra got older and I grew more visibly pensive, the mystery became far more frustrating than enthralling.

“I’m alright, just thinking.” I dropped down and sat cross-legged in the dirt.

Petra seemed unconvinced.

“Thinking?” she questioned, coming to sit beside me. “What about?”

“I’ve been having quite a lot of dreams lately, mostly of home.” I paused, letting the truth roll around on my tongue for a few moments. Even amongst fellow Heartless, I still was not used to sharing the grittier details of my childhood, although I knew I was likely to be understood.

“I had a friend,” I started. “Basil. I haven’t spoken to him since the day I left. I’m not too sure he’s still alive.”

“Oh,” Petra whispered, seeming to sink into herself ever so slightly. “You’ve never spoken about him.”

I shrugged. “I don’t like to talk about what happened. He was like a brother to me.”

Petra hummed softly in understanding. She picked a small twig up off the ground and began drawing patterns in the dirt. A few moments passed in companionable silence before she tilted her head to look at me again and mused, “You should come with me next time I go into town. You know as well as I do that there is more to the world than what the Village has to offer.”

“I don’t know about that.” I offered her a watery smile, chuckling under my breath. “You do remember me telling you to stop doing that, don’t you?”

“Well, we don’t have to steal anything.” Petra returned to drawing in the soil. “Just to take your mind off things, you know?”

For a moment, I hesitated. I had never left the Village or its woods in the seven years since my arrival, and the thought of entering back into a world that had long ago driven me away struck a fearful chord in me, ghoulish fingers plucking my bones like the strings of a skeletal guitar. However, the kingdom of Amistadia was large, and the chances of me being recognized at its southern limits were slim.

“Fine,” I eventually conceded. Petra gaped at me in surprise. “But only on the condition that we restrict our travel to the south and east, as my home village, Swallow’s Point, is in the north.”

Petra leapt to her feet. “Yes! Of course! We’ll go wherever you want!”

“Right, not so fast.” I stood up and dusted the dirt from my pants, then pointed at my bow, which lay discarded on the ground where Petra had been sitting. “First, show me your form again. This time, I’ll pay attention.”

Petra beamed. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

[lizzybeth1986]

This won't make you feel better, but this anon might have an explanation for the problems in Pixelberry's stories: essentially, I think it's because media and fandom culture in general has been hijacked by people with much older value systems, value systems where "whether behavior hurts people or not" was at best a secondary concern. The way Olivia is coddled, for example, does resemble how children used to be expected to be grateful to abusive parents for at least being given food and shelter.

Thank you for the ask anon.

Initially, when you'd sent the first ask, I'd had a different answer planned. Because sure, those kind of mindsets could very possibly factor in on how they treat a certain character type or trope...but it never actually happened with any sort of consistency. There were these invisible unspoken rules that certain characters would get away with breaking, and other characters would be punished for. So if there is no consistency in this treatment, how could I believe that it comes from a value/belief system that the writer holds, and nothing else comes into play?

Which brings me to the second thought you had. It's possible, yes, that the demographic they're hoping to cater to the most are the ones who may benefit the most from seeing white (and perhaps straight) characters thrive above others. The ones who will benefit from black and brown characters being placed on a heirarchy of worth - the most exoticized being the most "worthy" of "good treatment". But PB does benefit from a show of appreciating and celebrating diversity, and they do know it - as you can tell from the posts they were putting out during Black History Month last year:

(Thank you @nikkisha16 for helping me source these!)

This is a "nice gesture"....if we ignore the fact that only three out of the handful of default black characters featured at all. And if we ignore the fact that Griffin from this tiny list was hardly given an opportunity to use his skills in the biggest "disaster relief" diamond scene in the series, just to make more space for the white guy. Or that Luke's "alternative romance" arc was given more attention than the one where the MC chose him - to the point where we didn't get to see his mother (more attention to the alternative arc is often a surefire sign that the team is focusing on another LI and presuming said character as single by default, which is why you'll see more effort in the playthroughs where they're single). If the demographic you aim to please are the ones who may not notice or care about what actually happens to such characters in their respective stories...why this posturing? Why this pretence that you care?

It's not that PB is evilly rubbing their hands and contemplating on which character of colour to screw over today. It's very rarely as cut-and-dried as that. Very often it is just as possible that they don't know, or notice how some of these subconscious beliefs translate into their art. Ignorance of how damaging certain tropes can be for certain communities, and an unknowing favouritism towards certain characters based on their skin tone just as plausible causes for the mess we see in most stories of PB now. And a certain dismissiveness, would account for why it keeps happening despite people pointing out these problems. (I mean, this is the company that issued an apology on Twitter for Drake Walker calling a pink cake girly. And I don't recall them making apologies for anything else thus far)

It takes awareness to understand the cultural weight of some of these tropes and archetypes, and certain kinds of treatment in some cases. It also takes awareness to figure out ways to empower these characters within their stories and arcs! And I do believe for that kind of awareness to emerge in the storyboards and the office meetings...there (possibly? Idk what the PB office is like) would need to be more voices from varying communities in the rooms. For instance, look at this incredible interview by Chelsa Lauderdale on the experience of writing Griffin's character in The Elementalists:

Griffin is the rich, fullfilling character that he is because the writer brought her own experiences and worldview to that character. And you can see glimpses of that promise in so many different black and brown characters when they're given even half a chance. Kiara's ambition and logical bent of mind. Hana's loyalty and struggle to discover who she really is. Sloane's courage in taking on the world while battling an anxiety disorder. Teja's love for her craft and desire to excel in her field. Jax's protectiveness towards the underprivileged. Lily Spencer's humour and playfulness and recognition of those who have less privilege. William's (RoE) recognition of his work-home imbalance and his commitment to change that for this woman he loves. James Ashton's creativity and insecurities. Victoria's wisdom and her experience in the film industry. Aurora's desire to make a name that's her own, so that no one will ever view her as benefiting from her aunt's high position again. But unfortunately, we're often only allowed glimpses for a lot of these characters, rather than whole stories that use these traits as a foundation. Having writers from diverse backgrounds and with diverse experiences - not just a handful but many - with voices that will be embraced and respected, would go a long, long way in both pointing out these blind spots and in enriching the writing and stories themselves. Only a handful of writers cannot be burdened with the task of "educating" an entire company, but a vast team of diverse writers would mean there is an environment where they can more openly question and maybe shoot down more tone-deaf narrative choices.

@massivelysilentchaos made an amazing post about this sometime last year IIRC. A lot may have changed since this post, but there's plenty in it that still applies. More now than ever, I tend to go back to this one paragraph in her post (but please, please read the full thing):

I think a lot of PB’s problems with regard to representation in their writing could be helped by having more diversity on their writing staff. That’s not to say they don’t already have a fairly diverse staff (at least it looks that way from their blog) but some of their narrative choices are tone deaf in a way that tells me they could benefit from more black and brown perspectives on more of their stories. Specifically I’m thinking of the choices to have a book set in Trump country where an eventual protagonist pulls a gun on a potentially black MC or the recent decision to include the detail that Syphax, a black man who spent 8+ years at Lena’s scholae where MC was presumably taught to read and write, can’t read. Both of which were entirely unnecessary to the overall story they’re trying to tell and left a bad taste in mine and many other black fans’ mouths.

To add to this - I can speak, as a South Asian woman who was excited everytime a South Asian character appeared in a series - of Teja Desai getting one solitary scene to address her parents' initial doubts about her becoming a filmmaker, and one solitary scene about being a "woman in a boys club" as a director - which the writers never bothered to connect to her current work ethic - and being presented her as overworked, pressurized, frazzled by the punishing amount of work she was taking on - only for RCD's narrative to turn around and compare her to Marcus von Groot, the mediocre white male whose lack of control over his crew came from his own incompetence and delusions of grandeur (btw, in subsequent books he was written as this adorable funnyman the MC could bond and hang out with). I can talk of Jackie Varma, who was placed in a position where players could pick and choose between her and Bryce (with Bryce having more free scenes), before the narrative wrote her out for a large chunk of the story. Even in Book 2, scenes we get with her explore OUR backgrounds more than hers. Given that getting into medicine or engineering is such a huge deal in our communities, I can just imagine the ways in which that would tie up with Jackie's work ethic. And I know that many desi voices in that room would maybe make those connections and understand how to tie that into these stories.

I'd like to close this post with a quote from Chelsa that I showed you all earlier in this post: "Stories can perpetuate stereotypes or change narratives. That's really up to the people who write them". And perhaps, the people who hire the writers as well.

[xsecretblastsx]

2x03 - The Dark Night

I'm actually surprised this recap came out faster than I thought it would, that's rare but I'm glad, also this episode is a fun one, or rather that's how I remember it.

Anyway, as usual recap under the cut:

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

I know AC is a thing but it's kind of weird to have GG voice over be like: the last days of summer and the heat... and then there's this shot of Chuck drinking scotch in pajamas that look more suited for fall/winter

So I guess we're still on the Dan and Serena can't keep their hands of each other train.

Poor Blair, the Lord ain't into that, gotta love her for mentioning that Atonement scene in the library... she could totally rock that green dress.

Blair a delicate little flower, please. I do like how it's a constant the various fact that all her boyfriends never really got her, and have this fake image of her.

Jenny starring in her own version of the Devil wears prada, slaving it all around NYC

The Nate and the Duchess scene are giving me the creeps.

Compared to her season 1 looks, I'm kind of liking Vanessa's outfits so far.

No one likes to hear the hard truths of life, but Blair's words to Serena about her relationship with Dan were really spot on.

Fun fact about myself: purple is my favorite color. I guess that's why like Chuck's robe even if it makes him look like this weird junior version of Hugh Hefner.

This is the first time we see the minis!!! I loved everytime they popped up like mini cosplayers.

That outfit of Blair is one of my all time faves. Particularly the colors of the skirt

Oh Nate, even if he knows Blair's motives are never pure, he stills accepts her invitation. Go figures.

This has got to be Chuck and Serena's most funny conversation ever. Both of their expressions during the whole thing are hilarious.  

"I don't have a romantic body in my body. Least of all that one" Honestly who came up with these lines 😂😂

Looking back there were many sings of how obsessed Dan was with public opinion and his weird behaviors' for example take this throwaway line from Rufus: he still reading those Dan and Serena should they or not threads. Like what?

Dan: turns out I'm an ass but a passionate minority thinks I'm just and idiot. Yep pretty much the public opinion nowadays too.

This is so one of my fave chair lines! "The thing that always fascinated me about you: the cool exterior, the fire below" 😉

The whole scene honestly, from the way her eyes roll back to his smug smile at the end 🔥🔥🔥

Considering what happens in the second half of this season is kind of interesting to note that so far every single interaction between Blair are Nate is really passive aggressive.

Gotta give it to Vanessa even though she's freaked out after finding out Nate is sleeping with Catherine, she stills gives him a chance to explain

That scene between Catherine and Blair was actually good, because they both are right, Catherine can't stop Nate from doing what he wants, and there are things that Blair can't give up on, even if she thinks so.

Is there an emergency box for Serena Van der Woodsen? Well she lives there douche. But even if there was, what's the problem with that?

The whole Jenny & Eleanor storyline makes me feel lowkey sad for Blair, like this epiaode shouldn't Eleanor be at that party? It was parents/students thing, but Eleanor is at her atelier accepting from Jenny the kind of honest commentary she would never take from Blair

It's almost depressing to see Blair throwing herself at that Marcus guy

Chuck's "fake" accent, except it wasn't 🤭

And finally!!! All that pent up sexual frustration had to went somewhere

I'm living of Serena having moments like this one: "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?" Because this is it, the real crux of it, and why they keep having the same fight

Im so done with the Marcus storyline, because yes she wants his tittle, but she ain't also wrong because he kept treating her in a way that was so meh. Poor Chuck, though, but then again he kind of puts himself into this situations by ignoring his feelings at first and then they explode in his face anyway

I felt for Vanessa the whole episode, not used to that.

This Dan and Serena break up is so frustrating to watch because basically they're ending because Dan just won't meet her halfway. She's not asking him to give up all his ideals, only that he don't judge her for who she is.

I feel like Vanessa was more understanding to Nate's situation than Dan could have ever been with Serena.

For an episode that started quite sunny and happy it sure had a sad ending. Almost everyone ends up feeling pretty miserable.

This episode was one I remember mostly for that Chuck and Blair scene at that party were he's trying to seduce her, also the whole blockade thing was hilarious, this time around however while I still love those Chuck and Blair bits, I did find myself getting more invested in Nate and Vanessa and even more surprisingly on the argument between Dan and Serena, their break up scene really frustrated me.

Let's go first with the Nate, Catherine and Vanessa storyline. This is such a messed up plot, then again most of Nate’s plot that involved his family had a tendency to be that way. I may not like the details sometimes but what I do like about is how these kind of plots really showed the amount of pressure Nate’s family put on him. At this point in the show Nate’s only seventeen and yet he has to find a way to keep his mom’s head above water, so he falls prey to this woman who is just awful. Is no wonder he wanted to be with Vanessa again because she’s literally a breeze of fresh air, so far removed from his messed up world which is exactly what he needs, and yet is inevitable that she gets caught up in all the scheming and nastiness in the end. She lies to him in order to help him which is sad because help him still leaves him as prey to this woman, but that’s what I really like about this plot, Vanessa’s willingness to be there for Nate and also how understanding she was of the situation.

Vanessa, same as Dan, tends to be judgmental of others and comes from a background that has a more black and white view of morality, she was also raised by a family who despises everything the UES side represents. So imagine what it must have been for her to find out that Nate is sleeping with an older woman for money, that goes against her morals and her beliefs, she’s disgusted by the situation, and yet when Nates begs her to let him explain, she does and she ends up while not exactly approving of the situation, he understands why he’s doing it, and she tells hims that this can only bad for him and that whe should stop it, becaause he’s better than this, and she says it mainly because she in fact is concerned about him and see the best in him. This is why I like her relationship with Nate, because I feel they gave each other some needed perspective, through him she learns that not everything is black and why and that’s there a reason of why people does certain things, and through Vanessa Nate’s gets in touch with a much saner world were he can be himself. 

On the other hand, we have Dan and Serena, who for the last two episodes have been avoiding the fact that they have issues and they must be faced if they want to move forward, and it’s pretty easy to see why they were putting it off, because the moment they do it obvios that they can’t really solve them. The source of the conflict is the same as always, they keep having the same fight, except to me there’s a difference this time around, at Bart’s brunch and at the wedding Dan’s issues with Serena’s world were also framed with the fact that he discovered something about Serena he feels he can’t deal with, it annoy me both occasions at the Brunch because they had barely met and he was mad because she wasn’t the girl he thought almost as if she had deceive him, and it was like dude you guys met like yesterday, chill. At the wedding he had more of a right to be mad, because she had lied to him a lot, so one could understand his resentment with the UES in the sense that it had shaped Serena to be the kind of person that acts wildly and lies and whatever else he wanted to claimed. This time however he gets mad because the elevator situation serve as reminder of how she’s “more important” than him because she’s part of the 1%. They start arguing literally because they won’t help him as quickly as if she was her. Is it unfair? Yeah, but If we’re goint go be objective about it the mere existence of a 1% priviledge class is unfair to the the other 99%. But that’s life, and the majority of us have to deal with that, and that doesn’t mean we can be assholes to people that have been nice to us.

When he meets Serena he already knows she’s an UES princess, so if he really has a “eat the rich” mentality, why did he got involved with her? And is not like Serena was condecending or mean to him because he wasn’t rich as her, and yet he acts as if he had dated S2 Blair who was an elitist bitch to him every single time they interacted. He may also be not extremely rich as Serena, but he wasn’t poor at all. Correct me if I’m wrong but the kind of loft he lives in, at Dumbo ain’t cheap. So the way Dan acts if he had dated said a girl from a lower income background she had the right to be a total bitch to him, because he was more priviliged? Serena herself says it the best:  "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?” and this is prove that theirs is not a relationship problem, is exclusively a Dan problem. Serena says to him she can’t change who she is, and is not like she’s saying I won’t change the way I act, is not related to that, because their “problem” literally refers to who she is: her last name, the family she was born to. To that Dan says, I can’t change who I am either, and that's the thing Dan! hers is a matter of being, his is a matter of thinking, and she can’t change her family, but you can change the way you think, and it’s not even a drastic change, he doesn’t have to change his ideals, rather just be understanding and accept her for who she is.  If one thinks about i Vanessa did  a better job with Nate on that topic this episode than Dan ever did, so it can be done, it can be resolved, he just refuses to do it Serena doest thing through the series that definately add to their problems, their parents situation doesn’t help either, but this episode really shows that the root of their issues is Dan.

Finally, there’s Chuck and Blair, who keep having the most amazing chemistry ever, and the sexual tension in their scenes is off the charts. This episode really relays on the fact of the amount of desire they feel for each other, which seems super fitting at this point in the series because while it’s clear they have deep feelings for each other, desire was what first brought them together, yet they both believe this episode that desire isn’t as exclusive as feelings, it’s easier to feel desire and so they think they can easily find it in other people, but what they discover this episode is that sadly that wasn’t the case. In Blair’s case it has to do in part with the fact that Marcus doesn’t really sees her that way, which makes me sad because here she is again dating a guy who refuses to be passionate about her, but even if he did, she’s forcing the passion, is not really there and can she honestly live like that? Like something is missing? Sadly, no. Oh she’s going to try, not only this season in fact, but is never going to fully substitute the one she has with Chuck.

Chuck faces the same issue, in quite a very literal way, which is hilarious. Chuck Bass playboy extraordinarie is suffering from a “blockage”, a very PG-13 way of saying that he can’t get it up, which is obviously a big tragedy for a guy like him, that amuses Serena to no end even if she can’t quite believe it. Anyway, this is the way that Chuck learns that feelings can win over desire, and that ther is more to sex than just a momentary physical pleasure, which is something he really need it to learn. As long as he can frame what he feels for Blair as mere desire, nothing beyond really good chemistry, is easier for him to see his pursuing of her as only a matter of seduction, easier to ingore that it hurts that she’s with someone else, and his regret over the fact that this whole situation was his own doing, at the end he finally admits to himself that is more than seduction, which is why I believe all his plots from here on are more based on getting her to go to him, not because she desires him, but because she needs him. But that’s for the next episode.

Random bits I’ve noticed:

Because later on this show  got to the point of being like Chuck had no culture whatsover, and as such Blair couldn’t possibly have any intellectual talk with him, I would like to point out that he mentions madame butterfly as a reference to the Japanesse flight attendant, which means he knows the opera. And I can totally picture him, listening to opera from time to time just because, he’s dramatic and larger than life sometimes. It fits him.

He also mentions  Little Lord Fauntleroy which is a children book, and I like to believe he at least got one decent nanny while growing up and that she gave it to him. 

Finally a pic of the minis, because I love them

[stone-man-warrior]

June 17, 2020: 3:24 pm:

Neighborhood Assessment: It’s quiet outside. The Sun is out today, it’s a beautiful day, a slight breeze brings cool air. There are peacocks at Sunflower terror cell making the required announcement to the neighboring terror cells that I stepped outside, and was within view of the people who control the peacocks. Think of the peacocks, and the sound they make, as bullhorn being used to make sure everyone can hear what has been said. That is how the peacocks are used at the Sunflower terror cell on Russell Road. There were some strange bird calls today, and last night. Today the strange bird calls were like the ones a crow makes, but not exactly. The new bird call today came from behind the 520 address in the woods. That other new bird call was shrill sort of repeating sound, fast chirping, and that came from the direction of the Strong terror cell and from behind the Monroe terror cell, yesterday. Yesterday at dusk, the neighborhood began to show signs of aggressive behavior. The sound of trucks, motorcycles, quads, and other sounds of revving engines, all coming from a direction that included the part of Jackpine that includes where my house is on the street, and towards Freeberg’s, and Dietricks terror cells. It was a reminder of the way things have been in the past, roaring engines of all kinds used as terror tools, for communication, and noise cover. I am still very sore from the arrest on Monday. I can still feel the place on my back where the officers knee struck me repeatedly, and on my neck where I was hit, and pressure applied there at my left side of my neck and shoulder. I am concerned about my knee, it took many years for that to heal from old wounds, and other people keep targeting that knee, over and over, and over again, such that the wound is never going to heal. Terror bastards like to use hyper extension when they want to hurt someone, and that is what is going on with that injury. Repetitive hyper-extensions over course of many years has been applied to my knees.

There are no doctors available in Oregon anymore. The medical services are all terror controlled, only serve the needs of the terror army, and SAG members. They get the best medical treatment available, while the US Citizens are Victimized, tortured, farmed of assets, killed, and then replaced with impostor look-a-likes who assume the identities of the murdered US Citizen Victims. The impostors vote the way they are instructed to vote, on both sides of the voting ballot, for SAG shill candidates who are cast onto the ballots, by SAG leadership. I am going to be sore for a while, a doctor cannot change that anyway. A doctor could make me feel more comfortable, but not completely pain free. SAG likes it when US Citizens are sent to a doctor, especially when the patient is insured with Medicare, and has Part-D. That kind of patient, helps to keep SAG members very comfortable, all of the time. Think of Ironside, meets Marcus Wellby, MD, to understand, then switch to McGiver, for ingenuity. Get yourself a shoe-horn, and think some more. ==============================

I’ll explain about how what to expect at the Jo-Co jail if you happen to be sent there. It was not as bad of an experience, as it could have been. It could have been much worse, there might be a message in that idea, so, I’ll just say what it looks like in there, and how the booking procedure is done. When you arrive in the sheriff car, there is a gate, the officer says what is going on, and why he or she is there. “Co-Operative Male in Custody”, the answer was a repeat of what was said, and then acknowledgement. The car is driven into a garage, and the garage door closes behind the car. There is doors there, that lead into the booking area. Once inside, a search is done there, the officers ask some health questions, so they don’t get AIDS or a virus. Any jewelry, and other accessories, are bagged right there at the search area. Then, into another room where there is a toilet, and a shower, a bench, sink, and coat-rack on the wall. The shower does not work. Maybe the deputy has to turn that on at a master control. The room is about 12 by eight feet. There, you remove your clothing, and are given some jail clothes to wear. The intake officer has a visual search through a window opening in the wall, a property receipt is signed there at the window, detailed, items listed. Some more health questions are asked, this time it’s more about medical history. The door opens, and it’s off to the booking area, a bigger area. From the time the car pulled into the garage, to the time the jail clothes are put on, is about thirty to forty-five minutes. It was done expeditiously, did not take all day. Then, into “Holding” area. There are a number of small cells, I was put into room number one, about a 16 by 20 feet room. Everything is super heavy duty and indestructible in there. The whole jail, is super heavy duty, nothing is ever going to need repair inside of the jail. Steel, concrete, block, and stainless steel, is what the place is made of. In Holding Room One, there were Two other unfortunate men. The room is suitable for three men, to lay down, if one uses the floor. Others could also fit, and lay down on concrete, while waiting for the remainder of the booking process to happen. I was asked if I wanted some food, and/or a blanket. I took the food, not knowing how long I might be there. I declined the blanket, but one was handed to me through a hole in the door that is made for passing blankets and food through. I was asked to fill out four different forms of information, everything there is to know about ID, body markings, some more health questions, and very detailed financial information was asked on the forms. Marital Status questions were repeated on each form, and some family and emergency contact information was asked for on the forms. I was asked to come out of the Holding room three times. Once to sign the forms and swear to the accuracy. Once to have a photo taken, and I asked that the intake officer also take a photo of some scarring that I have, in anticipation of further arrests in the future, and making sure that the ones who make the arrest are knowledgeable of areas vulnerability. And one more time I was asked to leave the room for fingerprinting, which is done electronically, with a computer scanning machine, at the initial intake area, where the jewelry was taken, and initial search was done after coming out of the sheriff car in the garage. At about 4:30 pm, I was inside my house reading and writing, at 9:00 pm, I was having my fingerprints taken at the Sheriff’s office, County Jail. I asked for a phone call three times. My question was heard, and I was told there would be a time for a call. That last time I asked, was during the fingerprinting, it was just after 9:00 pm. The printing officer told me what my bail was, and explained that the banks are all closed, and the phones close at 9:00 pm anyway, so, maybe tomorrow a phone call can happen, but I was also told that I was going to be going to court the next day, so, phone call won’t help. I explained that I have animals to care for, and no one knows that I was there, that I wanted to at least tell someone where I am. I was told that I cannot tell someone where I am on a jail phone call, you can only talk about bail, on a jail phone call. My pinky finger on my left hand, refused to scan for a print. Many scans were made, but it just would not scan. There was a manual override on the software to make the machine accept the scan as it was taken. Back into holding cell one, I went.

(The sound of big trucks outside tells me that Centurylink internet service has decided that what I am writing about right now, requires that Pacific Power send Dietrick are to make a lot of scary truck sounds around my home. It’s a staple of terror, to use what they have available, to do the terror, and they have a lot of big noisy trucks to teach the citizens with, over time. Big noisy trucks are driven by young strong construction crews and road builders are on board also. That is what the message is.) I think I will stop for writing for now. end terror report: 4:52 pm.

====================================

(I am doing something I never do, I used the edit feature here on Tumblr to continue saying about the booking process at Jo-Co County Jail. Begin again: 5:34 pm.)

The intake finger print officer took me back to holding cell one, a different way than the way we had gone to the finger print machine. We went through a hallway, and into a large, dark, and cold place, another room that was very similar to the booking area, which consists of a centralized service desk, with counter tops all around on three sides. So this other room, was a duplicate of that centered service counter booking area, darker, and noticeably cold. We went out of there, down another hallway, and into holding room one. My guess is there is the holding area for newly arriving people who have been arrested, and, this other cold, dark place, also with some holding rooms, that serves the actual main jail inmates in some way.

So, I was in holding room one with those two other men, no one spoke to one another. The two other men, looked like they were dead for the first half hour I was in there filling out the forms, I had to check to see if they were breathing. Finally, they both moved a bit. Each one was laying and completely covered with the blanket that is offered in there. Each of them was called out of holding room one, twice while I was there, and then returned. After a short time after finger printing, I was called to be “housed”. A body scan is taken at that time, electronically, with a large machine. It has a conveyor belt on it and some hand rails. You stand there, and the machine moves you through there, on the conveyor belt. Instructions are given to stand a particular way. At that point, it would be very easy to do the wrong thing. I felt that it was very important that I do exactly as instructed, listen carefully, and not be distracted by actions of others nearby, at any time while in the jail. Words are more important then visual movements, while in jail. The body scanner machine is big, made of stainless steel, with a conveyor, it has a computer attached to it on the service counter side where the officers are at. I suppose it’s like the machines at airports for looking at luggage, but that one, looks inside of people. I was asked if I had a implant of some kind in my right kidney area. Another officer was asked to look at the scan, and she could see no implant, while the other officer said he had seen something in my kidney area. We got past that part, I was frisked against a US American Flag poster, made of paper. I was given a cup, something in a tube, may have been toothpast, but was clear, like shampoo. I did not look at it closely. There was spoon, a pen, some bar soap, and paper with my booking number on it and some other information, that paper somehow is not in the things I came home with, it was either lost, taken from where I put it while Housed in jail, or, was taken at the time of release by an officer. There was a small ticket sort of paper in the cup, has information necessary to “Create a Turnkey Account” at the jail. And, a roll of toilet paper was given to me. A giant size Sheriff deputy, not a jailer, passed by me at that time, and asked “How are you doing?”. I was given a bed roll. Off we went, down a hall with a lot of doors along the hallway. My guess, is those are holding rooms for one person from the main jail if they cause problems. We passed by those, then, I was given a mat to sleep on. It was more stuff than I could carry, but I managed, and we got to the jail main housing, the jailer said “Places”, then the door opened, I went in, and the door closed behind me. I had been given a bunk number. There were men seated at some tables watching a television. In unison, there was a lot of “Que pasa?”, “Howzit going”, “Hellooooo”.... I replied, “Greetings all, I’ve been better, thanks for asking”. I went to my bunk. Three others helped me find it, and they also showed me how the sheet is supposed to fit onto the mattress pad. It was like trying to cram ten pounds of stuff, into a five pound bag, it didn’t work very well, and took three jailed men, and a new guy, to  get the mattress, into the sheet. It’s like a sock, fits on the mattress pad like a sock. All was good. The people were not mean, not too nice, it was ok.

A guard came through the jail a number of times during the night. I spent my time quietly. The mattress pads are not very thick, and the bunks are made with heavy steel. There was no sleeping for me, it was very uncomfortable, and I was too sore to sleep on that. There is an upper, and a lower bunk, I saw only one person sleeping on an upper bunk. There was at least one lower bunk with no one on it, and the place was pretty much filled up with people sleeping on the lower bunks. There was only one person that I could see sleeping on the upper part of the jail housing area. I estimate there were 33 men in jail while I was there. No one else came into the jail while I was there. Next day, I had a look around. There is an upper sleeping area, and a lower one. The lower one has thirty-two bunks. I don’t know how any are upstairs. There is a shower area, has curtains, somewhat private. There is a restroom area. All is made heavy duty and unbreakable.

There are some phones on the wall that require an account with that “Turnkey” account number I was given. There is a computer on the wall that works like “Jail eMail”, messages can be sent and received there. I was told you can request medical services with it, and talk to a jailer with it, see your court scheduling and some other similar kinds of basic communication can be done on the Jail Email. There is another electronic gizmo on the wall also, no one touched that one, but the message machine was something that I saw being used. I did not see anyone using the phones. There are some books on a book cart, not many. Seven large stainless steel picnic tables are solidly bolted to the ground. There are no windows in jail. There are some skylights, with bars over them, the ceiling is about thirty feet high. The jail is about one-hundred by seventy-five feet inside the main jail where the people are kept. There are some acoustic panels on the walls to help with the echo, reverberation, quality of the sound that can be heard in the room. Even with the acoustic panels, when information is spoken over the intercom, such as a call for a particular person to come to the front door service area, the sound quality of the room itself prevents what can be heard. The people in there, have become very attentive to announcements made by intercom. The jailers do not repeat what they say, it is said only one time. It turns out that all of those items that were given to me, the cup, spoon, toilet paper and such, are very important while in jail. Breakfast came in the morning, cereal cornflakes and some corn bread, watery milk, and some honey.

The breakfast treys are made very thick, and are hollow. They are more than one inch in thickness. It looks like a whole stack of treys, but is only one, hollow, trey. The jail was clean. It’s well built, never going to fall down, ever. There is a lot that could be said about the people in the jail. This is not the place to say any of that. At no time, did I feel threatened by anyone in the jail main housing area. No one touched me while I was in jail. I spoke to others for a total of about two minutes while I was in jail. The people in the jail were of mixed race, Latino, and white. There were no people of other heritage that I could see. My recommendation for being at jail, is to do as you are told to do, listen carefully, follow instructions. Don’t make eye contact, don’t make hand or other signaling, only speak if someone else speaks to you first, and then, be courteous, without being overly friendly, or overly rude. End terror report: 6:55 pm.

[bensonstablers]

Hi Queen❤️ Can you make a ‘What we know (or think we know) so far about season 3’ post ?! There’s so much info and it’s so unorganized in my brain. Help 🥺💋

Hi, there!

Let me start by saying that I mostly kept this to information we’ve been given and tried to stay away from too many theories because this post got long. Because of that, I’m actually going to put everything I can find under a read more/keep reading tab. (Although that being said, I’m always happy to answer asks about theories, I just wanted to keep this post from becoming a ridiculous length).

There’s actually been a ton of information about Good Girls season 3 so far (albeit, some of it vague haha) so I’m sure I’ve missed some things. Saying that, I recommend checking out @pynkhues‘ blog (which I’m sure you have), particularly this tag for extra details and discussions as well as info I might have missed (I find Sophie often posts about, reblogs, or is sent asks regarding details of season 3 quite regularly, ha).

The Good Girls tag on here is also great to check out as well as any official social media accounts for the show as well as cast and crew. To be honest, a lot of behind the scenes stuff is posted to IG stories which delete after 24 hours and I find they’re not always captured in time to find elsewhere. 

Anyway, everything below is split into sections and there are sources provided (said sources will potentially give extra information on top of what I’ve put!) I really hope this is organised enough for you and it’s not everything but I hope it’s what you were looking for! ^_^

Firstly, there’s this spoiler post that was made but if you don’t like spoilers and just want ‘official’ information that is announced on socials and through blog articles, I’d recommend skipping it :)

The basics:

We got an official release date: February 16th 2020 (source)

We’re getting 16 episodes this season (source)

Saying that, they’re potentially filming right through till March (source). As of right now, we’ve definitely got about 7 episodes done in terms of table reads (and filming too I think?).

We got the titles for the first 3 episodes (source) and due to IG stories we know episode 7 is called, “Vegas, Baby!”

Information about previous cast members (not including the obvious, ha):

Basically every kid on the show has been photographed on set including David Miranda who plays Marcus (a lot of the kids have instagram and you’ll see a ton of sources there).

It’s possible Jessica Walter will be back as Judith (source)

Sally Pressman is back as Nancy (source)

I don’t think it’s been confirmed if Zach Gilford is back as Greg but if Nancy is back, I’m assuming he’ll at least make an appearance.

Carlos Aviles is back as one of Rio’s boys (source - he’s also posted in IG stories about it too)

Julian Grant who plays JT (the Quick Cash guy) is set to return for at least 3x01 according to IMDb (source)

Sam Huntington doesn’t seem to be coming back for season 3 (source - his thank you tweet after season 2 finished).

Allison Tolman is playing the lead in the show Emergence so probably won’t return for this season (I guess it depends on schedule but I doubt it).

New cast members:

Charlyne Yi was cast as the fourth good girl Lucy who was hinted at at the end of season 2 and was also teased in interviews with Jenna Bans (source)

Jackie Cruz was cast a Rhea (source) and while that source revealed that Rhea was going to become friends with Beth we now have information as to who else she’s connected to as well as first look pictures of both Rhea and Beth in season 3 (source - if you don’t want to be spoiled, I wouldn’t recommend checking that source)

Ione Skye was cast as Gayle who works with Dean at his new job at a hot tub store (source) and Ione has made a couple of instagram posts like this one and this one. And I also want to say she made some IG stories but they only last 24 hours so I can’t link any, ha.

Noureen Dewulf was cast as Krystal (source) - she’s also posted a few IG stories in the past which confirmed her character’s name and also showed her on set with various people but mainly Reno Wilson bringing about the idea that Krystal will be connected to stan.

Wesley Kimmel was cast as Tim (source) and there’s really no information about him that I’ve noticed but he’s often seen with the other kids in photos (mainly the Bolands) and a lot of people have pointed out he looks like Matthew Lillard so there’s speculation he’ll be connected to them (the other theory is that he’s Gayle’s son).

Brent Jeremiah was cast a Thug #2 lmao (source) but the interesting thing is that he actually mentioned working with Christina which means this ‘thug’ is likely connected to Beth’s journey into crime (whether that be good or bad remains to be seen though).

There was also an IG post about Alex Jayne Go on set or something but I can’t seem to find it, however, she’s listed as ‘Fiona’ in 3x03 on IMDb (source)

Naomi Grossman was cast as Dr Amanda Johnson (source) and her role is only a guest one so I’m not entirely sure how much we’ll see of her.

Megan Thee Stallion has been cast to appear although there’s not really any information on who she’ll be playing and whatnot (source)

Some behind the scenes stuff:

I don’t actually follow him but I’ve heard that Gabe Rodriguez who works on Good Girls often posts a bunch of behind the scenes stuff on his instagram. - I feel like it was him who posted a picture of a strip club or something which added fuel to the fire of Krystal being a stripper or something along those lines, ha.

Christina, Mae, and Retta were filming in a graveyard at one point (source) and Carlos Aviles also posted about the same set on his IG stories (source) so most likely Manny/Rio is involved in those scenes too.

There’s a printing press this season (source) and (I think) it was confirmed that Beth and co will be working with cards as part of their business (in 3x01 on IMDb there’s a listing for ‘young card customer’) and there was a photo floating around where you see the sign: “Paper Porcupine” in the background.

I’m 90% sure it was seen in slightly more HD versions of these photos which were actually some of the first we got of Manny/Rio on set, ha.

In some IG stories, Reno mentioned he couldn’t show his face because of spoilers which I’m guessing means either a) Stan is injured or b) his outfit gives something big away about his storyline.

Whenever the cast have posted pictures that show Manny onset (whether it be for table reads or filming) those posts are usually promptly deleted (like this one) meaning that the show is still trying to keep his fate ambiguous, most likely wanting to make his return a big surprise for fans who haven’t quite figured out he’s coming back.

Everleigh (Jane) and David (Marcus) are often photographed together and its probably cause they’re close in age and friends but there’s a high chance we’ll see Jane and Marcus become friends in season 3 (it also seems that Marcus will just be in this season a lot more than season 2 in general).

There’s this photo of Jackie, Christina, and Mae which could mean nothing but we know Rhea and Beth will have scenes together but, considering that photos was from September, I wonder if Annie (and Ruby) will meet Rhea pretty early on and share scenes with her, aha.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Dont Get Attached (Pt 18)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven/ Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen / Part Seventeen

Words: 1350 Connor x Daughter!Reader W/ Dad!Hank Anderson  Summary: No longer running for their lives, Connor takes a minute to asses Reader's injuries and decides stitches will be needed to repair the damage. He wants to take her to the hospital, but she worries this will put him at unnecessary risk. 

“Ooof.” You hissed before throwing yourself into the passenger’s seat of your own car.  The door was swung open wide and your legs dangled outside of the vehicle. You leaned to the side, pressing your head against the dashboard. The exact details of your escape from Jericho were fuzzy. You remembered everything in frozen stills; like photographs.

The family of androids huddled together, sitting on top cases of replacement thirium. Connor pointing his gun at Marcus. Running through the ship, trying to avoid being killed. The horror of being caught by one of the soldiers. Being lucky that he believed Connor’s passable lies.

“[Y/N?” Connor crouched down so that you could see his face. Your eyes snapped over to him, but it seemed your memories weren’t the only thing that was fuzzy. You squinted, struggling to keep Connor’s face in focus.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood from your leg.” He had said it so calmly. Monotone, in only a way that an android could be. “[Y/N], can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah.” You told him slowly. Your head felt light and your limbs heavy.

“I’m going to have to move your legs.” He explained. “I need to get you in the car so that I can take you to the hospital. Your left leg needs stitches.”

“Hospital?” You frowned. “No. You can’t. You’re an android. They’ll send you back to Cyberlife. They might replace you. Disassemble you.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Connor decided. “I promised Hank I would keep you safe.”

“He’d kill me if he found out I let anyone take you.” You argued. “Especially now that you’re…”

“We don’t have time to argue, [Y/N].” Connor told you firmly. He reached for your legs to begin moving them into the car but you stopped him.

“Wait. I have an idea.” You adjusted yourself so that you could open your car’s glove box. You dug around with shaky hands until you found an emergency sewing kit.

“[Y/N], no.” Connor shook his head. “It’s not sterile. The risk of infection…”

“There’s half a bottle of whisky under the seat.” You gestured towards the backseat of your car. Connor looked at you incredulously before opening the car’s back door and dipping his head down. “It’s the one we found Dad with awhile back. It’s been rolling around in my car since I took it from him. Sewing kit for sutures and whiskey to sterilize. Everything you need.”

“[Y/N]…” Connor looked between the sewing kit in your lap and the bottle in his hands. “The hospital will have skilled surgeons, proper antiseptic and pain medicine or anesthesia…”

“And probably cops or representatives from Cyberlife.” You continued for him. “Maybe even deviant androids who want to hurt humans. You promised Dad you’d keep me safe? This is how you do that. Now, hurry up before I change my mind.”

Connor collected the sewing kit from your lap, still looking decidedly unhappy about the situation. He set everything on the hood of your car. He opened the sewing kit and looped black thread through a needle of what he thought was the appropriate gauge. He uncapped the whiskey and poured a generous amount over the needle and thread. At last he stood over you prepared to begin. He hesitated again.

“[Y/N], I’ll need to remove your pants to clean the…” His sentence trailed off.

“A minute ago, I was so bad off I needed to be carted away to the hospital. Now you’re comfortable letting me bleed to death in a parking lot because of some bullshit modesty programing?” You scoffed, already unbuttoning your jeans. If you weren’t so out of it, you might have noticed Connor bowing his head to hide the smirk on his face. You sounded just like Hank.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” You huffed. There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and a slight amusement but both of those only masked pain and fear. This time Connor didn’t laugh at how much you sounded like the Lieutenant.

You knew you’d want to scream before he even began pouring the brown colored liquid onto your thigh. Bracing for the pain, you shoved the sleeve of Connor’s jacket into your mouth. The Parking lot was relatively abandoned this time of night, but you couldn’t risk alerting humans or android to your position.

“Give me that will, ya?” You motioned for the bottle as Connor moved to set it down. Connor handed it over, no questions asked. You held the bottle by the neck and gulped a mouthful of whiskey down. It didn’t dull the pain in your leg but the sweet and sour taste distracted you momentarily from the needle Connor had begun poking into your skin.

Connor was glad that androids didn’t need to breath. If they did, he was certain he wouldn’t be about to work without shaky hands as he could now. He felt you wince beneath his touch as he tugged the needle through your soft skin. Humans are so fragile. He lamented, still trying to remain focused on the task at hand. Your face was slowly draining of color, but by his calculations you hadn’t lost more than a pint of blood yet. That was good all things considered. Humans would donate roughly that amount to blood banks and their bodies could replenish it entirely unaided in a matter of weeks.

Connor tried to work quickly, both to stop the bleeding and to not prolong your pain. The regrettable side effect of this was that his stitching was haphazard, uneven. He wasn’t a medical android after all. As he continued on, Connor felt guilty? He supposed that’s what a human would call it. Emotions were all so new to him that he had no way of knowing for sure.

His inexperienced stitching would leave scars. Scars that you would have because of him. Scars from an injury you had sustained because of him. Because he’d let you come along with him when he shouldn’t have. He was almost certain that if he had a stomach it would feel tight and knotted as humans describe. Yes, he was certain. This was guilt.

“See.” You exhaled when you felt him finish off the last stitch. “I knew you could do it.”

“[Y/N], I’m…”

“Do me one last favor will you?” You asked, looking up at him. If Connor wasn’t sure that he was a fully functional machine,  he would have thought his thirium pump had skipped a beat. The way you looked up at him wasn’t accusatory or angry. Somehow this made his guilt worse. “I’ve got a clean pair of sweatpants in my trunk.” You explained, holding out your car keys for him.

“Of course, [Y/N].” He nodded before leaving to retrieve your desired clothing item. Connor cleaned up his makeshift medical bay, replacing Hank’s whiskey under your back seat and the sewing kit in the glove box.

You stood up slowly to pull your pants the rest of the way on. You staggered slightly and a hiss of pain escaped your mouth as the pants brushed against your sutures. Luckily Connor was there. He held you upright by the elbows until you could steady yourself.

“Thank you.” You said to him. “I know that wasn’t easy. Where to now?”

“I’m taking you home.” Connor insisted.

“Connor, no.” You shook your head. “I can’t go home now. Not after seeing what I saw. People need to know Androids are alive. They have emotions. They have families! They deserve to be free!”

“[Y/N], I can’t keep putting you in danger.” He argued.

“Why should the safety of one-person matter more than hundreds or thousands of other lives?” You asked him.

“Because…” Connor’s face twisted in frustration. It was a new expression. Something you hadn’t seem from him before. He didn’t say anything for a long time and you thought maybe you’d broken him. You reached out and touched his cheek. You could feel the whirl of biocomponents under his warm synthetic skin.

@racrneko @that-random-chick-named-tori @noodledraw@mariahlambslbs @sdavid09 @baebecca @black-and-white-eyes@twdpansy @revenge-parti @grievance-s@mikithekiki  @kazuha159 @dragonempress123 @the-razy-pie-rope@layinglonely @talle-2002 @trash-is-my-name @geolusun@professionalfangirl1738 @ask-angel-of-death @havanbcby @beautifulsilvermarch @myemoescape @sweetlittleviper@fineactually @manymanyenvelopes @demonpandu @mikkasao @21putnamp@comeheretiger @pringtella @deathbyhollywood @itstrashleydude@clowntapus @dragonempress123@tenderlytremendouskittens @lovelittledoyouknow @etherealpeachh @omelys-space @xesthete-cxssi @itstrashleydude @loopy-lolly-loo @abigfanofyours @onceuponagleepottermindlock @missjayi @treanna-hatake @bunnie-kookie @bvngtanboiz @kumamno @jinwonholeo @erinitoburrito @kinggst @line-viper @treanna-hatake @pxnisparker @goalsweight @ayajackson @taylor-swifter-sweeper @ohskit @ninatheotter @regular-mexican-girl @katiekitty261@iknowrocknroll567 @Ispheygurl @hidenbarrista @doctorpaintedwhore @cliche-female-protagonist@fairytailwzard @hollowmasque @syrinxgm @misbhv-ur @sugaraddict @thelavachick @nikkidawnlight @hollowmasque@fairytailwzard @patchworkdabi @fearlesspatroclus @dbhtrashftw @writingpromptsstuff @fearlesspatroclus @xalinx @dbhtrashftw @awkard-fangirl88 @cindersonick @spookydun-iplier@spacekidarayo @anglemae @redlovett@xalinx @letthembehappymcu @itsfangirlmendes @dechartduo @rainbowzephyr @sherlockspie @mybrilliantusername@wishuponawriter @fandomloverlord221

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Hi, here’s my latest chapter.  As usual, subject to change if it suits the plot and it will all go on AO3 when it’s finished.   Thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” available on AO3 and FanFiction.  Chapter 22 Johanna makes sure that Marcus is well out of earshot before she speaks.

In a low voice, she asks, “Do you think I’m still invited to the wedding?”

I glance sharply at her, unsure whether she’s trying to be funny or not.  But, no, she’s serious.  As if the worst outcome from this fiasco would be a rescinded wedding invitation.

“Not if Lace has anything to do with it,” I answer.  I doubt Johanna was ever on the invitation list, anyway.   Peeta only mentioned Delly when he talked about the people from his side he could ask to the wedding.  Not Johanna, or Annie, or my mother.  I suppose Delly is the only one he has complete memories of.   It’s a wonder that Haymitch or I made the list.  “I’m probably not either,” I add.  “Peeta’s pretty mad.”

Johanna sits in same chair in my living room that she vacated earlier this evening.  And Marcus is in the kitchen, making hot chocolate.   I drop my head into my hands and groan.  What a horrible, horrible night.   To think I’ve been waiting months for some kind of breakthrough with Peeta and tonight I got my wish.  Only it wasn’t the one I’d been hoping for – the one where Peeta discovers that it was me he loved all along.  Instead I’m back to being mistrusted.  Maybe even hated. I go over in my head how this all came about, to try to make sense of it.  The evening started well enough.  Johanna and Max appeared to have put an end to hostilities, although I did note that Max made sure to sit at the opposite end of the table, well out of striking range. But Max had no cause to worry.   To his chagrin, Johanna ignored him.  All her attention was on Arthur.   And Arthur really seemed to like it.   I don’t think anyone had paid him so much attention in his life.  Johanna leaned towards him, intent on every word he uttered as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard.  She complimented him on his appearance, his knowledge of wine (Arthur appeared baffled at this - I think all he cares about wine is that it’s red, but he took the compliment anyway), his ambition, and, most importantly for Arthur, his business acumen. She even listened, mesmerized, as Arthur described in excruciating detail, of his plans to open a clothing factory.   It was puzzling to say the least. Johanna had paid only cursory attention to Arthur the last time they met.  Johanna likes her men to be a little on the wild side, and Arthur definitely isn’t that.   But when I saw Lace’s reaction, Johanna’s motives became clear.  She was trying to make Lace jealous.  And it was working.   Lace became quieter, less effusive, and obviously distracted.  There was a moment when Peeta seemed to sense something was wrong.  I saw him lean in and whisper something in her ear, presumably something to cheer her up.  Lace laughed her pearly laugh and kissed his cheek.  And then she went right back to watching Arthur and Johanna.

I tried to see it from Lace’s point of view.  I already knew she was possessive over him.  I consider myself a bit of an expert on this. It’s like when Madge braved a snow storm to bring morphling to ease Gale’s pain after the whipping.  Haymitch insinuated that there was something between Gale and Madge and I didn’t like it.  And when I reversed Gale’s and my situation in my head, and it was Gale who became another girl’s lover, and then returned home with her, living close by, and getting engaged to her.  I was overwhelmed with hatred for them both.  He is mine, I am his, I remember thinking.  And in that moment, I genuinely believed it.  But then, not long after, waking panicked from a nightmare, I wished that Peeta were there to hold me.   So, I didn’t set much store by it, what Lace was feeling right then.  When you’re at the crossroad, and there’s a path that hasn’t been explored, but will close forever if you don’t take it, it’s hard to let it go.  Even when, deep down, you know that the direction your feet are pointed in, is the right one.

 Peeta seemed a little distracted too. It’s like he had to remind himself that, as a good fiancé, he should be extra attentive.  So, even as he held her hand, bringing it to his lips occasionally, and making sure she was never without a drink, there was an absent quality to it.  If he had been paying attention, he should have slowed Lace’s drinking down.  Lace guzzled one cocktail after another.  It was like she was going down the list.   All that liquid had to go somewhere, and it wasn’t long before Lace had to go to the bathroom.   “I’ll come with you,” announced Johanna, rising quickly from her seat.  “Katniss, come join us?”  

“What?” I spluttered in surprise.  I had been deep in discussion with Marcus over what provisions we’d need for the camp.  I was about to say no thanks, but then saw Johanna making small jerking movements of her head, which I recognized as some kind of signal.  “Ah, OK.  I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Lace immediately sequestered herself in one on the stalls.  She really needed to go.  Johanna and I were finished first.  While I washed my hands, Johanna stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair. Over the sound of a flushing toilet, Johanna whispered, “Whatever happens, just go along with it.  OK?” “OK,” I whispered back.  “But what do you – “   “Arthur is by far the most fascinating man I’ve ever met,” gushed Johanna.  Lace had just emerged.  “And I’ve met a lot of men.” “Yes,” I say, taking Johanna’s lead.  “He’s a man going places, that’s for sure.  And he’s very attractive too.  And so nice. Most men would be full of themselves, if they had half of what Arthur’s got going for him.  But he’s not like that at all.”  It was a little bit exaggerated, but mostly true. “It’s hard to believe that some lucky woman hasn’t claimed him by now,” said Johanna, as she applied lipstick in a cupid’s bow to accentuate her sexy pout.   “When I was at the salon the other day, Flavius told me that his female clients confessed to having the biggest crush on him.  Even Octavia.  He said she’s always finding an excuse to go into his shop.  The salon and the tailor shop are right next door to each other, you know.”  

“Well, she’s wasting her time,” said Lace, in an acerbic voice.  “Arthur would never go for someone like that.  He likes natural beauty.  He’s told me so.  Green skin, dyed hair.  It’s not the way to attract Arthur at all.”  She looked pointedly at Johanna’s red tipped spiky dark hair.  Johanna stared back at Lace’s.   Lace flushed uncomfortably.  It’s an open secret that Lace’s hair colour isn’t natural.   “Octavia isn’t green anymore.” I said. “She’s let the skin dye fade out. And under it was a beautiful peaches and cream complexion.  And the blue in her hair has gone too, leaving it a natural blond.  There’s nothing artificial about Octavia’s appearance now.”  Unless you count false eyelashes, fingernails and hair extensions.

Johanna gave herself a final appraisal in the mirror and then undid all the buttons of her shirt to expose a large expanse of bare flesh down the middle of her chest.   She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Octavia is sweet enough.  But what Arthur needs is a woman.  Not some giggly little girl.  Someone who knows how to please a man and make him feel special.   If there was ever a man who deserved to be shown a good time, it’s Arthur.  And maybe I’m the one to give it to him,” said Johanna, with a suggestive wink, as she walked out the door. I turned to Lace with a shrug, as if to say, “what else can you expect from Johanna?”  But Lace barely looked at me and swept past without a word.  I felt a little ashamed. Maybe I shouldn’t have participated in Johanna’s attempt to manipulate Lace.   I wouldn’t like to have my feelings played with like that.  Besides, making Lace jealous over Arthur won’t help Peeta find himself. I returned to my seat, and was cheered to have Marcus waiting for me with a smile and a fresh drink.  Johanna went back to charming Arthur, making sure to strategically lean forward so that the underside of her breasts could clearly be seen beneath her shirt.    Arthur’s face was pink, but whether it was from titillation or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.  Lace was all over Peeta, smiling up at him, stroking his hand, but her eyes kept flitting to Arthur and Johanna.   And that’s how the night might have continued, if not for Max.   He’d been uncharacteristically quiet.  I guess he would have felt a little left out. Johanna had monopolized Arthur, and I had been mostly talking to Marcus.  That left Peeta and Lace, neither of whom were their usual sociable selves. I guess Max wanted to liven things up. Stir the pot a little.   “Hey, Johanna,” he called out.  “You seem to be missing half your shirt.  Should we take up a collection?” “Why don’t you take up a collection for the missing half of your brain,” Johanna snapped back.  “I don’t know how you got to be a teacher.   I’d hate to see your kids.” “So would I,” laughed Max, having taken no offense at all.   “Max is right,” chipped in Lace.  “It’s disgusting how you expose yourself like that. Do you really think people like seeing you naked?  It might be how people behave in the Capitol, where they have no morals.  But not in the districts.  We have standards here – something you evidently know nothing about.” Johanna’s brown eyes flashed with fury.  It was fortunate there were no axes nearby. One might have ended up in Lace’s skull. “Standards, eh?  Well, I’ve never lied about who I am.  Or had anyone doubt where my loyalties lie.  So don’t talk to me about standards, you hypocritical bitch. “ The colour drained from Lace’s face, and her mouth opened to say something but nothing came out.  Peeta stared at her in bewilderment.  She hasn’t told him, I realised.  I really thought she would have by now.  “Lace, what is she talking about?”  he asked. “What’s going on?”   Lace didn’t answer.  She just looked beseechingly at Arthur.   Arthur rose from his chair and went to her side.  “She hasn’t done anything wrong.  It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.  We can explain it later.  But here isn’t the place.”   “We?” asked Peeta, with voice raised. “How many people know about – whatever this thing I don’t know about is?   He scanned each of our faces in turn.  “Johanna?” Johanna said nothing.  She just looked down at the table, but an almost imperceptible sideways glance at me gave it away.   “Katniss, did you know?” he asked me in a hushed voice.  I could hear the hurt of betrayal. “Yes,” I said, unable to look him in the eye. “I found out about it when I was in 8 for Sateen’s wedding.  I told Haymitch.  We thought it better if you heard it from Lace.  We thought she would have told you by now.”   “So, everyone knows except me,” said Peeta. “I don’t,” said Max.  “Anyone care to enlighten me?”

“Just shut up,” I hissed at him.  I turned back to Peeta.  “We didn’t want to interfere.  You were so happy . . . and, well, it wasn’t our place.   We figured that if things got really serious between the two of you, Lace would tell you.   I’m sorry.” “You and Haymitch . . . this isn’t the first time you’ve kept things from me, is it?” My skin prickled at the tone of his voice. I sensed danger and the memory of a similar scene cut across my consciousness, of a dome of the Justice Building in 11, of broken furniture and thick dust.  Of Peeta, furious, because Haymitch and I hadn’t told him of Snow’s threats.   “No,” I whispered. Peeta made a swift sweeping gesture with his hand, as if his body remembered striking out at some phantom object.  “This – this – game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.” “It wasn’t like that Peeta – “ I begin. “It’s exactly like that!” he said, his voice cold with anger.  “After all we’ve been through together, don’t I even rate the truth from you?”   “Of course, you do.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.” I was on the verge of tears.  I felt Marcus’s arm around my shoulders.  “I think it might be a good time to leave,” he said quietly in my ear. I nodded my assent.  People around us were staring, fascinated.  The gossips would have a field day with this.   “Jo?” said Marcus.   “Yeah, OK.” Johanna stood and retrieved her coat where it was draped over her chair.  “Sorry, Peeta.  You shouldn’t have found out like this,” she said, with a meaningful glare at Lace.  

The last image I had was Arthur consoling a sobbing Lace, Peeta watching us leave, and Max shrugging his shoulders at the onlookers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!   All that effort in being scrupulously honest to regain Peeta’s trust destroyed within seconds.  I guess I should have told him myself and not relied on either Haymitch or Lace to do it. But then I remember there were also good reasons for not telling him.  Between a rock and a hard place, I think they call it.  I suppose it’s definitely all over with Peeta now, even the friendship.   Maybe it’s for the best.  I was going to separate myself from him anyway.  What does it matter if it’s before the wedding, rather than after?  Isn’t it better if it’s his decision?  That way, I won’t have to find excuses for staying away from him.   And then I think of how Peeta must be feeling right now, and I feel really, really bad in a way that’s unconnected with me. With his memories either distorted and incomplete, he relies on others to be honest with him, and not to keep things from him.  How can he know what’s real or not real, otherwise?  It must feel like some kind of conspiracy that everyone but himself was included.  No wonder it’s evoked memories of what happened in 11.   And me, the person he should be able to rely on the most, has let him down.   When I at last raise my head, I see Johanna regarding me with a puzzled expression. “It was weird how he took out all his anger on you, wasn’t it?  You’d think he’d be mad at Lace, but it was like she didn’t matter.”  

“No, not really,” I reply.  “It reminded him of another time, that’s all.”  And not a good one either, I silently add.   “Do you think they’ll split up over it?” I shake my head.  “I doubt it.  Not once things settle down.  She hasn’t lied about anything really important.  It was only her first name and that she was a factory worker.  Even that can be explained away as simply stretching the truth.  Lace could be a pet name for Chantilly, and owners do work in their own factories.  They just do a different kind of work.” “It was still deception,” says Johanna.   “Yeah, but not meant to harm. He’ll understand why, although he’ll likely be disappointed that she didn’t confide him in much earlier.  And it was only Arthur who knew originally, and that’s because they knew each other before. It’s not like she told the rest of us, but not Peeta.”   “Humph” snorts Johanna. “I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive, if I were him.  A lie is still a lie.  Especially if you’re about to marry the guy.  And what about what she said to me?  What a bitch.” Well, you did provoke her.  And it was probably about time someone called you out on your exhibitionistic tendency to strip off in inappropriate places.  Like elevators, for instance.  “She’d had quite a lot to drink,” I say.   “It’s no excuse,” she sniffs.  I think Lace really did hurt Johanna’s feelings, but whether it’s over being accused of having no standards, or the notion that people don’t like seeing her naked, I don’t know.  “But what about Peeta?  Do you think I’m still welcome to stay in his house?” Good question.   Peeta might see the justice of not taking sides in this.  After all, Lace had a go at Johanna first, and he doesn’t know what else was going on.  But then, a good fiancé wouldn’t want a house guest his bride-to-be is at odds with. I was evicted from the guest room for far less. “I don’t know,” I say.  “But I think it will OK for tonight.  They’ll have a lot to talk about.  Peeta will probably get home late, if he doesn’t stay the night at Lace’s.  I’d just wait to see what happens.  But there’s always my mother’s old bedroom if you need it.”   I really don’t want Johanna staying here but I feel responsible.  I shouldn’t have told her about Lace.  Or even told Haymitch.  Peeta was the only one I should have told.  If I’d kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened.  Oh, fuck!  All those people in the pub who heard Johanna’s accusations.  They might not know the details, but it won’t stop the gossip, or prevent anyone from making enquiries, and then finding out.   Lace might have to leave the district.  And Peeta, as her husband, will have to go with her.  He’ll have to leave his home, and his job.  Everything that is familiar.  And it will be all be my fault.  This is much, much, worse than I first thought.  And not only will Peeta and Lace hate me, Arthur will too.  I feel sick.  

Marcus walks in at that moment carrying three mugs of steaming hot chocolate.   I seem destined not to enjoy any of Marcus’s cooking tonight and it tastes like glue in my mouth.  We make inconsequential conversation, carefully avoiding any topic connected with the events of the last few hours.  Eventually, Johanna makes her leave and Marcus and I are alone. “Katniss, I know none of this is my business, but if you want to talk . . .” “Thank you, but talking is what’s got me into trouble.  I’ve made the worst mess of things.  I – I don’t . . .”  And that’s all I get out before bursting into tears.   The next thing I know I’m in Marcus’s arms, sobbing against his chest. He holds me close and says soothing words.  And I stay there, cradled against him, until I am spent.

[geejaysmith]

Wolf 359: A running list of things I have a heightened appreciation on second listen, pt. 2

Part one here. 

SEASON 3:

Pan-Pan: Still a little miffed they didn't explicitly do the "we have to huddle to conserve body heat" trope. Yes, it's corny, but also shut up, let my touch-starved space disasters cuddle.

So Eiffel stopped Hera and Minkowski arguing in season 1 to address an emergency, and now with Eiffel absent, the team starts arguing again. The fact he doesn't exactly have much Pride In His Own Self-Sufficiency to get in the way of "hey! Guys! Remember, imminent death? More important priorities happening?" tends to defuse situations like this aaaaaand now he's absent.

"Cutter will send a squad of psychos to come up here and kill us faster!" ...she's not wrong.

"Pick a corner and relax! Hop to it!" I just like this line delivery.

"The entire station is a SPACE YUKON and this thing is overheating!" I know, it's like it's symbolic or something.

Episode 29: "we all feel responsible for losing Eiffel and are lashing out because we're scared and sad and grieving and fear getting backlash while we're vulnerable if we admit we need help, and we don't know what to do but keep going because the alternative is breaking down and possibly never getting back up again." Alternatively:  "It's Metaphors All the Way Down."

Mayday: Eiffel's frustrated screaming.

Brain Ghost Minkowski showing up like "Yeah, we know I'm a hallucination, or Weird Alien Shit, or maybe just a clever metaphor representing the abstract process of thought, but who gives a crap, this is more interesting than listening to you talk to yourself for an entire episode."

BGM: Hi, I'm your thought processes externalized using a face and personality that you subconsciously think you need to hear from in this situation, possibly because you think so little of yourself you need to hear it from somebody else first. Eiffel: Oh hey cool, this is just like this one web comic I kept up with sometimes back on Earth- BGM: Not another word.

Eiffel getting slapped by Brain Ghost Lovelace, who is a projection of his thoughts.

What is that whispering in his head that reminds him of the Hermes' name supposed to be anyway? Score one for my Weird Alien Brain Shit theory. Having Lovelace's alien juice in your system comes with such fun side effects.

"I dunno, I only know what you know." "Shut up, don't go meta on me." / "Hilbert wouldn't know that word! He's never even heard of Empire!" Yeah, toldja: it's Brain Ghosts.

Brain Ghost Hilbert may represent the realist in Eiffel and the brutal, calculating reality he doesn't want to confront, but Brain Ghosts Minkowski and Lovelace are his cooler head and ingenuity, working him through staying calm and devising a way to survive, and Brain Ghost Hera, who appears when Hilbert tells him it's hopeless, telling him that against all the odds he will be okay, is his stubborn determination to never, ever quit. They're all his determination to live when Doug might want to just stop trying. They're the better parts of himself, reflected in the voices of his friends.

And Hilbert. But I digress- HOLY FUCK, I just realized the brilliance in the one-two punch of the Brain Ghost Brigade contrasted with the previous episode's Stress Fracture Argue Crew, it's The Sound And The Fury all over again.

Paging the Wolf 359 incorrect quote blogs: "Save my friends! And Zoidberg Hilbert!"  

Sécurité thru Don’t Poke the Bear: Maxwell! I've missed you! (':

"And I build pretty awesome battle drones on the weekends." ...Does Maxwell have her own souped-up version of one Jamie Hyneman's Blendo?

Eiffel, realizing he's starting to sound like Minkowski: My god, what have I become.

Eiffel mumbling to himself in general. "This is hell and I'm in it."

Is it just me or is Kepler's pig story not as agonizingly drawn out to listen to the second time around?

A Matter of Perspective: Funzo: 12 different board games, three of them TCGs and maybe at least one TTRPG, all tossed in a blender, because Pryce and Cutter are psychopaths.

The Funzo manual is the size of the actual Bible and don't try to convince me otherwise.

How into the game the girls all get.

Headcanon: Minkowski and Lovelace are both the types to get stupidly competitive over any kind of game regardless of their initial level of investment.

Eiffel keeps a photo of (it's implied) him and his daughter taped to the underside of his console...

"He looks so... happy." shUT UP

"I had no idea Eiffel had a-" daughter. Was it "daughter" you were going to say Minkowski. Well, no one else knew you were married til you brought it up, so turnabout's fair play.

"You think you know me? You know the artist formerly known as Warren Kepler, you've met my job. Aside from that, there's no one left for you to know." In light of the series finale, I, uh... I don't if I like this, Scoob. Also, stop reminding me all these people are human persons underneath all the desensitization to horror and violence.

"Happy birthday, Eiffel." They remembered! Hope this one is less traumatizing than the last, Doug.

"Happy Kwanzaa!" "Lovelace."

"Long Story Short, that's the last time I saw Maxwell's feet" wh. What. What happened involving Maxwell's feet. What's. why-

And to make a long story short, that's where my "Maxwell has hands for feet" headcanon came from.

Need to Know: Minkowski's dreams, apparently, include both creating musicals and commanding a deep space mission. She's gotten the latter way the hell off the bucket list, somebody with actual songwriting skills want to get in and write the former with me?

Lovelace overindulging on painkillers for her broken arm after losing Officer Fisher... "It was a difficult time." ):

Aaaand serious implications of the above are immediately headed off by Lovelace quacking aggressively at Jacobi.

Fire and Brimstone: where is my fanfiction about Lovelace overseeing Minkowski during her solitary confinement?

The Backstory Episodes: Zach Valenti wrote all the backstory episodes! I just find that kind of sweet.

Once in a Lifetime: Small detail I only noticed on my second listen, after a fanfic put the thought in my head: Minkowski's parents are only referred to in the past tense. Oof.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We had a hiccup in staffing for this upcoming quarter."  So... according to the wiki's timeline, the launch for the second Hephaestus mission was some time in late March 2013. The beginning of this episode (and Eiffel's) states it takes place in 2013, with 3 months of training, meaning they were probably brought on board in January and the whole thing moved *ridiculously* fast. Everything points to them wanting to get people up in space as quickly and with as little fuss as possible, giving the newcomers no time to think it over or do additional research. Once they start the training program, they're probably too busy to look further into Goddard's deep space missions, and are likely in an environment where Goddard Futuristics can cut them off from other information sources. The people they select are relatively isolated (Minkowski and her husband being an exception) - the easier to make them disappear. Even Lovelace has been stationed at "a lot of very isolated, very quiet outposts", the implication being her superiors wanted her somewhere out of the way. Kind of makes me wonder about the rest of the Hephaestus 1.0 crew...

Greensboro: Nice ominous foreshadowing you've got there vis a vis Captain Lovelace and "are you an alien?"

Decommissioned: "We're not about to force anyone to do something they don't want to do!" ...Marcus Cutter deserves to have his trousers ablaze constantly.

All Things Considered is still a bit confusing (because I somehow keep listening to it while doing something else) and I'll need another listen to figure out what probably actually happened, but it is also hilarious.

"Eiffel had engaged the machine, but that's why I build in extra safeguards. My mistake, clearly, was to assume that would be enough to stop the slapstick routine."

“All Things Considered”: Did you have fun with this over-the-top romp of hilarity and and hijinks, dear audience? Good! Because that was us burning off our comedy quota for the rest of the season. Get ready for six whole episodes of nonstop emotional gut-punches!

MEMORIA.

Just... Memoria.

Putting this quote here because of Reasons: "Three years... Three and a half years... I've had this thing in my head breaking me, and making me think it was all my fault, that there was something wrong with *me!*"

So Memoria is still one of the best episodes and the last five minutes fuck me up in a special little way.

Time to Kill: "Or the one outside is the real Jacobi... and the alien is already in here with us." The funny thing, Maxwell, is that you were half-right and didn't even realize it, and you *were* just speaking to Lovelace.

So... do alien duplicates only get reloaded from the singular "snapshot" of the person, or does getting flare-scanned once give them a continually updated source of info? What I'm getting at is: if another Jacobi shows up post-finale, would he need to be filled in on events between his horrible, terrible death and the present?

Persuasion: Maxwell switching to First Name Basis to get Jacobi to be honest with her.

I always forget until the scene after that Hilbert is totally setting up the Space Telephone to manipulate her, but of all the ways he could've gotten Minkowski around to "we are disposable and need to act *now* before these people decide they're done with us", it still kinda touching that this is the method he chose.

Desperate Times/Desperate Measures are just a blur of "oh god oh god oh god" and it's just as nailbiting the second time around. One thing I love about this podcast is how comfortable it is with (for its medium) long stretches of silence, which can feel a LOT longer when you have no other forms of feedback except dialogue to know the first gunshot was just a warning.

So you really *do* feel Minkowski breaking out into laughter when Eiffel tries to invoke Air Force code is a release of the tension that's been building for multiple episodes. Like he's finally gotten through to them just how far this has all gone and how much further it could still go. I keep saying this: when the situation starts to threaten violence, he's got an amazing gift for keeping the rest of the crew in touch with their common humanity when the rest get far too used to a world that runs on self-interest and subterfuge. Hell, he even gets Hilbert and *Kepler* opening up over the course of the story (presuming Kepler is being honest when he talks about being a shell of himself, but even though he was trying to manipulate Eiffel, that doesn't exclude there being a kernel of truth in those words).

Speaking of Kepler: he's definitely riding the adrenaline high of the situation and it turns him into a monster with a manic streak. It makes Jacobi's and Maxwell's relative calm all the eerier by contrast. Those two really do make you forget that all of this is... pretty horribly routine for them.

Until they meet their match, that is, when the women of the Hephaestus refuse to stand down, and each of them is unspeakably badass in their own way. What Kepler didn't account for is that they're ready and willing to die together rather than sacrifice one another for their own survival.

Although again, the irony of the situation is that just dropping the station into the star could have let them avoid, /gestures at season 4. BUT I'm not gonna rain on the Badass parade here.

Bolero, aka "The podcast kicking me in the feelings while I'm down."

The way Minkowski orders everyone else out of the room before Brain Ghost Lovelace conversates with her.  ...did she pop up in the middle of that conversation, I wonder? And all this when psi-wave radiation is spiking, apparently. Coincidence?

Oh come on Hera, war is no reason to end a friendship- Look, I came here from Metal Gear. I see folks dunking on Hilbert and I'm just over here like "he's still not as revolting as Huey Emmerich."  

Listen I've seen enough of Warren Kepler and Marcus Cutter in this fandom to know y'all aren't above liking a bad guy, you just prefer the ones who're having fun with it.

"You're gonna come to my funeral! And you're gonna like it! ...I mean you're gonna feel really sad! And cry! And stuff! GOT IT??" Ah, good ol' Eiffel.

THE COMPUTER ALSO HAS BRAIN GHOSTS

"If I'm not your doctor, then what are we?" "We're... complicated?" Listen, Eiffel, if you're not careful, I'm going to start shipping you and Hilbert ironically For The Lulz, and we all know where shipping things ironically always leads.

Errybody gets brain ghosts this episode. Again: I accept that this is a device that's more interesting than an alternative method of expressing these same ideas, but the ambiguity of a Watsonian explanation (is it all in their heads? Do they really see an apparition of some kind?) lets me do my Weird. Look, I once wrote in a joke in a fic about Death from Discworld complimenting a Quirky Miniboss Squad member from Metal Gear Solid 3 on his taste in interior decorating arena design, and that spawned entire subplots in projects for two different fandoms, and eventually roped in a third fandom to elaborate further on their now-intertwined cosmology. Do not underestimate how much I can give myself to work with.

The last ten minutes of Bolero also fuck me up in a special way, partly because We Are Dealing With the Hard and Unavoidable Fact of Death but also the aliens are about to throw a curve ball that'll... alter that last part a little.

Like, words cannot describe the "Dead Man's Curve in the wet" hard right turn of going from being in mourning for several beloved characters (including my favorite) to SURPRISE, SHE'S BACK! I love it.

I'd have to check the scripts to be sure exactly because some words got lost in Lovelace's respiratory spasms but I do like to imagine the her head wound closing up in front of a horrified Eiffel and Minkowski, with a side order of glow-y shit. I've drawn too many Homestuck god tier revivals I guess.

Update: I DID check the recording script's stage directions to see just how disgustingly physical the whole event is and okay, so no weird glowing shit (I reserve my right to depict it that way anyway) but I'm delighted to report that the gross anatomical-ness I was picturing? It's worse! It is so much worse!

The goddamn AGONY that is the Special Episode being TWO HOURS LONG when it comes right after the BIGGEST CLIFFHANGER IN THE SERIES.

You have NO IDEA WHAT KIND OF TEMPTATION IT WAS TO SKIP THIS AND COME BACK TO IT LATER

LOVELACE 1.0 I LOVE YOU BUT ALSO I WANNA TO SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING TO FUTURE-YOU RIGHT NOW

Change of Mind: love the framing device placing this episode as within Lovelace's mind during her successful cranial reconstruction saving throw.

"Buncha nerds, gonna crash my-"

Just how familiar she is in this place, with these people... Hera was installed in her sister's grave (as another post put it), but Lovelace lives in the gutted cadaver of her home.

Zach Valenti's Lambert voice *does* sound like a bad Minkowski impression.

"I have a physicist to put the fear of *me* into." That's my girl. She kind of was more of an ass pre-Total Party Kill, though? Like come on, Isabel, how necessary *is* all this arguing with Lambert?

Fourier's voice is very nice, also. Very soft, very easy on the ears.

I'm now appreciating how it sounds like Fisher is the older and calmer mediator among the crew.

Also the image of Isabel just floating out in space and listening to some chill tunes is sooooo good.

Hey Doc, did it turn out Fisher was too perceptive to live. Was getting caught outside in that meteor shower really an accident. Hey. Hey Hilbert. Answer me. 

Also goddamnit, has EVERY character in this series has read Harry Potter?

Did the Fishers always differentiate each other by audio channel? I had to rewind the scene when I realized Lovelace's questions in my right ear weren't getting an answer.

"Say you're a big pink elephant!"

*gunshot* *gross biological dissolving noises* WHY

"Just because somebody made you something doesn't mean that's all you're going to be - you can be more!" I wrote this line down prior to the end of the episode's confirmation that it's a Big Thematic Point.

Aaaand we're back to the framing device, and with that, season 3 wraps. Or maybe season 4 kicks off? Either way, hell of a way to kick it off.

Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs had a hand in writing this episode? Aw... that's sweet...

So, yeah, headcanon: Alien resurrection does the weird glowy thing to close any obviously fatal maladies, then the gross biological viscera part kicks in, hence Lovelace sounding like she's trying to hack up her lungs as soon as she starts using them again.

Listen, sometimes the gross biological viscera parts are my favorite parts, okay? Okay.

[tamekas-talk]

‘Insecure’s Issa Rae On Being “Proud” Of Series Finale

‘Insecure’s Issa Rae On Being “Proud” Of Series Finale, Reconciliations, Not Giving “A F*ck” & That Last Drive Round L.A. SPOILER ALERT: This post contains details of  Insecure series finale on HBO. “Thank you for everything,” Yvonne Orji’s Molly proclaims to Issa Rae’s Issa in the series finale of Insecure on Sunday. After more than a spell of discord and distance between the treasured friends last year and throughout this fifth and final season, the four words from a now-married Molly deftly encapsulate and navigate the Prentice Penny-directed and Rae-penned episode, titled “Everything Gonna Be, Okay?” Aware of the debate, definitions and competing perspectives that the end of Insecure will incite, Rae, Penny, the writers and team took a long-tail approach with years playing out over the 10th episode of Season 5 through birthday celebrations. Put it this way — and remember, this last season of Insecure was one of my Top 10 TV series of 2021 — if you thought the “messy sh*t,” to quote Kendrick Sampson’s Nathan, that went down between Nathan and Lawrence (Jay Ellis) after the latter professed his love for Issa at the moving-to-Colorado party of Tiffany (Amanda Seales) and Derek (Wade Allain-Marcus) in the penultimate “Out, Okay” episode was bracing, the finale was prophecy fulfillment in action. Of course, this being the show that was spawned in 2016 in part out of creator Rae’s The Mis-Adventures of Awkward Black Girl web show, it was far from all cakes and candles, exploding or not. Amidst the passage of time and the emergence of loss literally and figuratively, Orji’s Molly put a ring on her finger and was good with it, and was very good with her friend Issa Dee and the journey their relationship had been on. Correspondingly, as there were pregnancies and regretful moves among other primary characters and big moves for Dee’s the Blocc company, Issa tells a still courting Lawrence that she’s alright with taking another chance on things working out for them. And if that domestic bliss birthday scene at the end of the episode is any indication, With all that, the very busy Rae, who inked a lucrative five-year pact with WarnerMedia earlier this year, spoke with me about how Insecure got to that end, what she thinks about the reactions to the finale and what the Emmy-winning show’s legacy is for her. DEADLINE: So, you finished filming a while ago, but now the finale is out in the world, how does that feel? RAE: I’m really just relieved that it’s out there, that we were able to end the show on our terms and tell the story that we wanted to tell, and I hope people appreciate where these characters ended up and know that this is more reflecting of a new beginning for them, which is the approach we took to this finale. It’s just like what stories do we want to play out if this did get a Season 6 as our lives in the Insecure world continue. I know people are going to have a lot to say as they always do but I’m really proud of our finale. DEADLINE: Was this the ending you always had in mind, or, if you don’t mind me asking with all the threads that entwined here, was the finale a work in progress over this season? – and I’m not just talking about Issa and Lawrence .. RAE: (LAUGHS) It was a work in progress for sure. I mean, that bathroom moment with Issa and Molly was something that Prentice and I talked about from the jump. That was just something that I visualized, and he executed it so perfectly and beautifully, but the elements of the finale definitely changed. At one point, we wanted to jump five years into the future and show Issa and Molly in Morocco and tell that story. While sudden, it did not feel like the right ending, especially spending so much of our finale away from L.A., which has been a character in the show. DEADLINE: And birthdays became one in the finale, which really hung it together as a backdrop … RAE: I thought about my own life and my own friendships and how hard it is as you get older to get together. So, birthdays being a staple and almost a guarantee for us despite life’s circumstances, to stay in touch and getting together gave me the path to tell the story of Molly and Issa, not necessarily growing apart but like physically being unable to gather because of life’s circumstances and only get together through birthdays. It was a way to o show that they were just always going to be there for each other in some capacity. DEADLINE: Series finales are so hard, and I would guess even more so for a show like Insecure, with its finely tuned balance developed over the years. I mention that because you mentioned that you think people are going to have a lot to say about the end, as they have week after week, and this is where I’m asking about Issa and Lawrence getting back together and in apparent domestic blended family bliss – you know the reaction is going to be strong to that with a lot of fans pounding their digital chests in social media rage. What’s your take on that reaction? RAE: I don’t give a fuck how people react to it, because to answer your question, it was a journey for both of our characters, to be honest. DEADLINE: How so? RAE: In the beginning of the season, as soon as we got in the writer’s room, that was a burning question and I was just like no, they’re not ending up together. There was just no way and that was an argument. Like we had the argument that the girls have in episode seven about why Issa should have moved past Lawrence and move off Lawrence. Like Kelli and Molly used to say “I don’t want her to be a stepmom. I don’t want this for her.” He’s clearly grappling with a lot of these issues. There’s going to be drama and I want better for my girl, and so, we had different endings in mind and different journeys for her. Then, when I became Issa Dee and we started shooting the show, there was just a part of me that really missed him and that wanted him. I realized that there was a happiness that she/I had with him, and I stand by the fact that they should have broken up in that first episode because Lawrence was going to be in a toxic, messy relationship and she was going to be wrapped up into all this. But I am a firm believer that sometimes you need time, and if it’s right for you and you want it, then it can be yours. Happiness being a choice has been a theme for these two characters for the last couple of seasons. I can choose to be happy with you and I want to choose to be happy with you and if it doesn’t work out, then fuck you. I think that that’s what our character wants at the end of the day, and I know audiences will have opinions. A lot of people hate Lawrence, but luckily, it’s not their relationship. DEADLINE: The definitive. However, another relationship a lot of viewers had with the show and through Issa Dee via Issa Rae and team was with Los Angeles. Over the years, it’s become canon that Insecure is partially a love letter to friendship, true and deep, but the series was also a love letter to the City of Angels. As you said today, L.A. has been a character in the show and that character got a big send off as much as Molly and Issa in some ways, why was that last poignant drive around so important to include? RAE: I remember being in Arizona last year trying to like think about what this finale was going to be and I was just driving and one of my favorite songs came on the radio, which is ‘Rose in the Dark’ by Cleo Sol. That was what we ended up using for a song, and I just got emotional thinking about how I wanted that final scene to be, of her just revisiting her past and like literally driving on the journey to the landmarks that made her who she is and figure out where she is today. You know, L.A. has been such a character and these locations that she visited, Prentice and I made up a list of the spots that we just knew meant so much to Issa and the show in general. It just felt right to also give that city a sendoff in the same way we were giving these characters the sendoff, and thanks for noticing that. DEADLINE: Thank you for that. Issa, as we come to the end of this year, everyone’s looking back and years always feel like they encapsulate something, but I was particularly struck by that final scene with the mirror because mirror Issa and real Issa have been, obviously, not the closest of sisters over the years to put it mildly … RAE: (LAUGHS) No! DEADLINE: Just sayin’, but looking at that final scene in the bathroom of Issa and Lawrence’s house and dinner with Lawrence’s daughter (name) is about to be served, it’s all good — mirror Issa Dee is gone. There is such a precision to this finale, yet of everything you guys got in there, it felt like that scene could have dangled, yet you cut it short. So, long question short, why? RAE: Across the show, the bathroom, mirror Issa in particular, that’s always been a place where real Issa could be her real self, where she wasn’t in the outside world. So, there was always a separation of who she was in that mirror versus who she was outside. As the series progressed, of course, she started to lean on that mirror a bit more and it became a source of a lot of her insecurities. This show in its entirety has been the journey of her growing into this secure person. Secure in who’s she’s not, who cures her insecurities, and I think not having her rely on that mirror in the end was just a symbolic way to show that she was kind of good on her own. She’s now the same in the bathroom as she is in the outside world and she’s good with that. DEADLINE: Which is so much of how this finale functions so well, in my opinion – you get us to the place where the show circles itself. Now it is all done and a bit of time has passed on the finale for you, and you have a full dance card of projects, companies and initiatives, what are you most proud of about Insecure? RAE: Showcasing regular black people. Making regular black people compelling without some of the tropes and stereotypes that sometimes the industry deems compelling about our lives and our history. Also, being able to also be a pipeline for other black creators and creatives and to inspire the industry to take a chance on other stories like this. I’m really, really proud of that. The pipeline in particular is something we set out to do but to have such an influence in this way is not something that we pictured us being able to have. RAE: I mean, I thought about a lot of my favorite finales that stuck with me. You know, Fresh Prince is one. Six Feet Under is one, Breaking Bad is one, but also a lot of my favorite shows, to me, haven’t gotten proper ending. I just thought a lot about that a satisfying ending and there is a satisfying sense of closure, but also, I could see where this story could continue if I wanted to. I could still imagine what these characters, with the exception of like Breaking Bad, but Six Feet Under, to me, is like a representation of an ultra-satisfying finale in addition to like Fresh Prince. DEADLINE: So, is there any sense that we might see a return of Insecure in some form or another, or some of these characters? RAE: Not on my watch. Read the full article

[keldae]

Drastic Measures

Theron Shan had never been known as a quitter before. While he had a unique talent for taking a perfectly normal situation and making it a chaotic disaster (and somehow still coming out all right in the end), and had some of the worst attachment issues and workaholicism in the galaxy, he’d never been accused of simply laying down and giving up (and in fact had been known to tell people off for resorting to that themselves).

His actions and situation over the past several months wouldn’t have really confused anyone who’d known him before the Zakuulan invasion, even though he was currently on the enemy’s homeworld itself. He didn’t really stand out- a human on this world didn’t attract too much attention. And he was a spy, never minding that he no longer was employed by the SIS- it wasn’t unreasonable that he’d been able to infiltrate the Spire’s officers and got the opportunity, after weeks of work, to scout out the majority of the vertical city. And he was on comms blackout, why else would he have not contacted Korin to fill him in on whatever he might have found?

But today was a big day. Theron had already programmed a few messages to the people he still cared about, set to be sent when he activated his plan. One for his father (This wasn’t your fault, it’s all on me. There’s nothing you could have done. It’s better this way.), one for his mother (I forgive you for leaving me. Don’t spend the rest of your life kicking yourself for this. There’s nothing you could have done that would have made a difference in this.), and one for Korin (Remember that idiot plan I mentioned and you punched me for even thinking of? I did the thing. Please don’t do anything stupid, that’s my job.). He’d collected his gear, with the necessary additions today, and hid his equipment in his deep pockets. The charges he’d acquired were small, but extremely powerful.

He started at the bottom of the Spire, placing the charges on strategically-important pillars and supports that balanced the majority of the city’s weight. He kept his focus around one area in particular to cause as much damage to his preferred target as he could. It wouldn’t do to unnecessarily kill civilians- and besides, she wouldn’t have approved. But blowing up Emperor Arcann and his legion of minions and thralls (and his psychopath of a sister)? That was perfectly acceptable. He could almost hear her encouragement in the back of his mind- that’s right, kick his ass, make him regret it all.

And yet, more often than not he would glimpse little bits of her- a flash of red hair out of the corner of his vision, enchanting green eyes reflected in a mirror, the scent of her (a strange mix of a lightly floral shampoo, the light smell of whatever cleansing detergent her protocol droid used on her clothing, and something intoxicatingly unique that was her) drifting on the wind. And sometimes he swore he could actually hear her voice. Don’t do this, Theron. Please don’t do this.

This must be what going mad feels like. Theron shook his head as he set another charge on a power relay that would hopefully knock out the emergency response droids. Please stop haunting me, Xaja. I’ll get justice for your murder, and then I’ll see you again.

Theron, stop.

Soon, dearest. Theron shook his head again, more emphatically this time, to try and focus around the distraction that Xaja’s spirit (or his hallucinations of her) seemed dead set on creating for him. I need to do this, for you. I don’t care what you thought about your Jedi humility, you’re worth this.

No one life is worth destroying an entire city for.

It’s the only way to blow the bastard to the hell that he belongs in. Theron let himself into another maintenance shaft and placed another charge on a structural support. This one, according to the blueprints, supported a significant chunk of the weight that held up Arcann’s throne room in the upper atmosphere. Someone has to get justice for what he did to you. It hurt, but he forced himself to shut out Xaja’s distracting voice and continue on. The less he thought about her or what she’d do if she knew what he was planning, the better.

And if he actually focused on what he was doing, he’d be able to avoid thinking about the reactions of everyone he’d remotely cared about. Marcus would be furious, Korin would be straight-up livid, Jonas was probably going to punch through a wall, Reanden (if the old agent still lived) would probably grumble something derogatory about SIS hotheads, although Theron wanted to believe that the man once known as Cipher Nine would be secretly proud of him… Jace would probably shut himself in his office and drink himself into a worrisome state… Theron wanted to insist that Satele would just shrug off the news with Jedi stoicism, but truthfully, he suspected his mother would be devastated. There is no death, Mom, remember?

Why did he suddenly feel like Master Zho’s ghost was haunting him for the sole purpose of kicking his ass, with or without Teff’ith’s help?

There was one more charge he still needed to set before he could take down the oppressors and murderers in a brilliant blaze of revenge-driven glory. And the large chamber in the middle of the Spire, right over a Skytrooper production factory, was the ideal location. Hopefully the credentials he’d swiped earlier would give him access.

The chamber was way colder than it needed to be, in Theron’s opinion. He shook his head as he slipped through the door and stepped into the dim lighting. What is this place anyway? he silently asked himself as he squinted through the shadows.

His face paled when he saw the sheer number of carbonite slabs around the room, most hanging on the walls prominently. He could see signs of the poor souls trapped within- the odd hand extended out as though to defend themselves, a face twisted in terror. One poor guy even had a foot extended like he’d been trying to kick his way free. Huh, maybe being frozen will save you lot from the Spire imploding, he mused as he looked around. Then again… at least you won’t feel anything. You’re already asleep, you just won’t wake up.

The pillar in the centre of the chamber was an ideal spot for the last charge, and Theron approached, reaching around the prominently-displayed carbonite-frozen victim to access the wall. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered as he bumped the slab and the frozen knee of the victim. “I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m doing this. You can’t be too fond of the powers that be yourself, considering they stuck you in here.” The charge was set, and Theron stepped back, mentally preparing himself for the final, fatal task of this mission.

The label beside the slab caught his gaze. “The Outlander assassin”? Huh. Someone else already had my idea to kill Arcann? He frowned as he read more on the label. “Murderer of our beloved Immortal Emperor Valkorion”. Right, it was a Core Worlder they say killed the old Emperor. Some sources had said that Xaja Taerich had been the one to commit the deed, but that was impossible. She and Darth Marr had both died on the destroyed flagship under Zakuulan fire.

Curiosity piqued, Theron looked up at the Outlander. It was a female humanoid- the carbon freezing had been close enough to detail the outline of her slim, feminine build. She’d had her hands raised as she was frozen as though trying to ward off the carbonite. Sorry, lady. Awful way to go. Theron had been carbon frozen once, and hadn’t been fond of the freezing process- and even then, Jonas had been trying to be careful and gentle about it. He doubted the Zakuulans would have been so merciful to an apparent assassin.

Her face, though… Theron stretched up on tip-toe to look at the woman’s face, and felt his heart stop. “No…” he whispered and stretched a hand up to gently touch her frozen cheek with his fingers- she was too high up for him to reach, and his fingers fell to meet her unmoving hand. They killed you and entombed you here?! Xaja Taerich’s face had been frozen in a terrified-looking flinch, and the expression made Theron’s heart break. “Not like this, Xaja…” he whispered, fighting to keep the tears he’d refused to shed at bay. “You deserved so much better than this.” He rested one of his hands on her leg and clenched his jaw, felt a tear escape his closed eyes despite his efforts and trickle over his stubble-covered cheek. “Not you, not ever like this!” Why did the son of a bitch need to freeze you and keep you around?

Why indeed? The spy part of Theron’s mind that never shut up kicked into gear. Even as demented as Arcann was, there would have been no need for him to carbon-freeze the corpse of the woman who’d killed his father. It would have been more logical to burn her body or otherwise dispose of it. This can’t be a Zakuulan tradition, can it? Theron opened his eyes, frowning in thought- and blinked when he saw the carbonite readout signs on the side of the slab-like tomb. He knelt to read them, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw the signs. “Alive?” he whispered, staring up at Xaja in disbelief. “He froze you alive?” A hibernation state would keep her alive…

The first hope flared in Theron’s heart in two long years, along with the sudden need to change his plan (and the horror of thinking that he’d nearly blown her up along with the rest of the Spire, Arcann and Vaylin, and himself. For kriff’s sake, the last charge was literally right behind her!). He looked over his shoulder, mentally calculating- it was well into the early hours of the morning when most sane people were asleep. The factory nearby would be all but empty, and if he moved fast enough, he could escape with her before the Skytroopers were alerted to something being amiss. He couldn’t lug a slab of carbonite across the Spire, but if push came to shove, Xaja had never been a large or heavy woman. If she didn’t panic when freed from the carbonite, he could probably carry her to safety. If she did panic… well, he still had his darts with him. Knocking her out with a stun shot and carrying her out that way wasn’t ideal, but it was better than leaving her and attempting a rescue later.

The idea that maybe he should actually sit down and form a plan briefly floated through his head as he reached for the control panel, and was immediately squashed. I can’t leave her here. She wouldn’t leave me behind. His fingers hurriedly tapped in the command to thaw out the block of carbonite, and then Theron stepped back as the grey started to turn red while it melted away. His heart leaped into his throat when he got that first glimpse of pale skin and worn brown armour, then red hair loose around her shoulders, wet with sweat and the lingering effects of the thawed carbonite.

There was the sound of a ragged gasp, loud in the chamber, and Theron lunged forward just in time to catch Xaja before she landed face-first on the floor, ignoring the skidding sensation of the durasteel against his knees through his trousers. “Shhh,” he murmured as he carefully held her up, his heart racing as he felt her hands groping up and down his arms, his shoulders, his chest. “I’ve got you, Xaja. You’re okay.” He’d never thought that he would be able to hold his Jedi in his arms again, real and warm and solid and breathing- and the mental shift from planning an explosive, destructive suicide to rescuing her still left him reeling. “You’re real. You’re alive. You’re alive and I’m never letting this happen to you again.” Was he babbling? He was pretty sure he was babbling. He didn’t really care.

Xaja looked up at the sound of his voice, squinting as she tried to adjust to the lights of the chamber. For a moment, Theron feared carbonation sickness had made her temporarily blind- then those brilliant green eyes widened, and her hands found his face, fingers scratching against the stubble on his skin and brushing away the tear that still lingered. “Theron?...” she whispered, her voice hoarse with two years of disuse- it was the most beautiful sound Theron had ever heard in his life.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got you.” Theron pressed his lips against Xaja’s forehead, then left a series of near-frantic kisses all over her face, finally feeling her lips against his own as she kissed him back. It’s not a dream. This is really happening. She’s alive and I have her! Those kisses had never felt so solid or warm or real in his dreams, vivid as they were- and usually by this point she’d faded back away into the void and Theron would have woken up with tears on his face and his heart breaking again. This was real. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be safe with me.” The sudden reminder that she wasn’t quite safe yet despite being out of the carbonite made him look back up and toward the door. No alarms raised yet, but he’d done his research on the patrols around the Spire in preparation for his original plan- the next patrol would be two Knights in about twelve minutes. “I’ve gotta get you out of here.”

“Where is…” Xaja looked up at the strange architecture of the chamber, and her already-pale face went a little lighter when she saw all the other carbon frozen victims on the walls. “... Zakuul…” she finally whispered, a frown marring her face. “That son of a…”

“We’re gonna make that bastard wish he’d never been born,” Theron promised with a growl. He got back to his feet, but didn’t let go of Xaja’s arms. “If I help you, can you stand?”

“I think so?” Xaja gripped tightly onto Theron’s forearms as she shakily stood up, helped in no small part by Theron practically pulling her upright. She let go of him only long enough to shift her grip to his shirt, leaning most of her weight on him as she rested her head against his chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’m just… dizzy.”

“It’s okay.” Theron gently rubbed her back and pressed another kiss into her hair. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. You’re not spending any more time here, I promise.”

“My hero.” Xaja looked up, and the smile she gave him, small though it was, lit up the shadows still lingering in Theron���s heart and melted all the icy grief he’d endured over the last two years. “Theron, I-” Her gaze drifted around him to the empty slab she’d just been freed from, and Theron saw her eyes narrow dangerously. “I am not a kriffing trophy, and neither are they,” she hissed, and now Theron saw the container overhead that contained two familiar silvery hilts, proudly displayed. Chances were that she’d sensed her crystals within the lightsabers. The Jedi reached out her hand and focused despite the dizziness; Theron saw the lightsabers tremble, then suddenly fly out of the open case as the bindings holding them in place broke. Xaja caught one weapon, but fumbled the other- Theron snatched it out of the air before it could land on the floor and took the liberty of attaching it to Xaja’s belt. “Thank you,” she said, giving him another smile as she safely attached the other blade on the opposite side. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably still be frozen,” Theron said with a lightheartedness he didn’t quite feel at the reminder of where she’d been only minutes earlier. “C’mon- next patrol passes by in seven minutes, and we’d better not be here.”

“I hear you.” Xaja started toward the door with Theron at her side, her steps shaky at first, but stronger and more confident as her muscles remembered how to walk. “What’s our escape route?”

“Uhh…” I can never tell you what I nearly did. You would never forgive me. “... I kinda wasn’t expecting to make it this far. We’re making up the escape plan as we go.” Theron palmed open the door and took a look around. No Knights yet, and the only Skytroopers were well away. If he and Xaja hurried, they could hopefully escape the complex before an alarm was raised.

“Heh, sounds like normal then.” Xaja squeezed Theron’s hand and sent his pulse skyrocketing. “I trust you, and the patented Shan Exit Strategy. Lead on.”

I can’t believe I have you back, forget you trusting me. Theron swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, and had to force himself to think strategically for their escape. A quick blink brought up an overlay of the Spire layout to his implants, and he quickly plotted out a route. “Okay... the quickest exit route’s going to be this way. Let’s go.”

[inapat13]

Birth Of The Cool

Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool is a documentary released by Stanley Nelson in 2019 about the jazz trumpeter, bandleader and composer Miles Davis. The idea of the project began about fifteen years ago. During an interview, the filmmaker expressed his surprise, because there's never been a biopic about Miles Davis. He thought it would make a great film because Miles Davis' life was anything but boring. Actually, Miles Davis is a really interesting character, and the film improves my understanding of the musician on the whole, because his artistic development, as well as his legacy, has been explored in detail.

In the documentary, Davis is described as someone who was always searching for a new form of musical expression, reshaping music, and then moving on to the next idea. For the last half of the 20th century, Davis' music reflected the evolution of jazz, from bebop to cool jazz to modal to fusion. He played with brilliant sidemen, including John Coltrane, Bill Evans, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, Wayne Shorter, Quincy Jones… Miles Davis was the equivalent of a rock star, but for jazz music. The documentary shows how popular and iconoclastic he was. It covers the main highlights of Davis' career, from his early years (that included playing with Charlie Parker) through the recording of several famous albums, such as Kind of Blue, Sketches of Spain and Bitches Brew (which introduced him to a rock audience), to one of his last public performances at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1991.

During his career, Stanley Nelson has focused on various historical subjects, especially about African-American history. To him, this documentary goes beyond just being a musician's biography. Nelson had the endorsement of Davis' family, who made access to the film's interviewees possible.

The documentary is accompanied by a lot of archival footage, sometimes unseen images, photographs, studio out-takes, and a lot of music. But, in some way, the quantity of archival material becomes an impediment for the documentary.

To begin, we can underline the treatment of music in the documentary. Voice and music aren’t coordinated. In fact, I had the feeling that the film drowns the voices in the music, as if the filmmaker feared that too many musical performances heard without interruption for more than ten seconds would be impossible for the spectator. It results in the feeling that we can’t simply enjoy the music, even if it’s the main topic of the film.

Moreover, the documentary features new interviews with a wide range of people, for instance several of Miles Davis’ friends and former musicians (among them Lenny White and Marcus Miller), who knew Miles Davis personally. It also features the reflections of several writers and scholars, who bring knowledge about the social and political context of the area. A lot of information emerges from these interviews.

However, Nelson has made these interviews in the form of talking heads. Their remarks are often cut, delivering only specific pieces of information that drive the movie forward. It gives the impression that there’s no sense of dialogue between them and Stanley Nelson. We never see him, or hear his voice doing the interview. There is a lack of continuity, of spontaneity in the evocation of memories.

Furthermore, the documentary uses words from Miles Davis’ autobiography, yet Davis’ words are spoken by an actor, Carl Lumbly. Miles Davis had a very raspy voice, like the actor, who embodies Miles very well. At first, I thought it was an old recording of Davis himself.

Nevertheless, this text is cut too. It joins disparate bits to briefly deliver the desired information. An indiscriminate slew of still photos illustrate the spoken text, and for the most part, the filmmaker used the Ken-Burn effect, by zooming in on the images. The text overwhelms both the music and the images. Narration and music are playing at the same time as still photos (sometimes flashy visuals) and film clips crowd the screen in an illustrative montage, with no contextualisation.

In my opinion, the density of the material (archive footage, photographs, performances, interviews) doesn’t contribute to make the subject clearer. The use of archives is really questionable, and sometimes I felt lost among this material. There is maybe a lack of simplicity, even if the subject is captivating, even if the archives are beautiful.

(Anne V)