#ben blacker

[ssaemilyhotchner]

PAGET BREWSTER as Sadie Doyle Beyond Belief, "Insiding Incident" and "Toxic Phantom"

[avengerscompound]

Deadpool V Gambit (2016)

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Ben Blacker wrote this about Jenny Klein and the Supernatural writing room

For those curious, he and his writing partner wrote The Mentalists, 7.07.

[queeruscant]

Name: Dec Hansen Pronouns: he/him Era: First Order Appears in: Join the Resistance trilogy

Dec Hansen was a scavenger and tinkerer who, with his droid "brother" AG-90, joined the Resistance as part of J-Squadron. He was a charming troublemaker and fiercely loyal to his friends. While not made explicit in canon, co-author Ben Blacker stated that he wrote Dec as a gay character, alluding to this through Dec's story about being "different from everyone else" and quotes other characters ("I've never known him to like a girl. It's just not how he is.")

Fun fact: Dec is the first gay character in a Star Wars children's book!

Check out Dec's video profile here.

Full profile under the cut:

Dec Hansen was a teenage member of the Resistance during the time of the First Order. He grew up on Ques, a damp, marshy planet in Huttspace. Dec used to be an only child, but his mother gifted him with a droid: AG-90. AG-90 and Dec were brothers from then on out, and they both joined the Resistance and trained to be pilots.

Dec appeared in the junior novel series Join the Resistance by Ben Acker and Ben Blacker. He was a scrapper, a tinkerer, a charmer, and a talented troublemaker. You’d usually find him with a smirk on his face, ready to undermine authority or talk his way out of trouble – which he was really good at. 

Dec was fiercely loyal, and valued his friends and family over anything else. Once Dec considered you a friend, he’d be on your side no matter what. He was a committed member of the Resistance and a strong advocate for his squad, arguing that what made them different is what made them good rebels.

And Dec knows what it means to feel different. In book two of the series, Dec tells a story about how when he was younger, he started to realize that he was different from all the kids around him, and that he kept this difference secret because he thought his friends and family would hate him if they knew. Eventually, with the help of AG-90, he told his parents, friends, and other people around, and they loved him just the same.

In August 2018, author Ben Blacker confirmed on Twitter that Dec is gay.

There are other hints throughout the books that suggest that Dec is gay. His best friend, Sari, says that “she’s never known Dec to like a girl. It’s just not how he is.” Others are more vague, and could certainly be said or done by a straight character too. For example, he kissed one of the boys in his squad’s cheek, and told his brother: “Ain’t no way you’re handsomer than me. I’m real pretty.”

[matildazq]

Truly nothing like a Thrilling Adventure Hour show to give me the warm fuzzies. @fyeahthrillingadventurehour

[nezoid]

Retrospecs - Elysian Theater - 09/29/24

Produced and presented by Ben Blacker (Thrilling Adventure Hour; Dead Pilots Society)

Associate produced by Will Choi (Asian AF)

The September 29 show features:

Succession written by the notorious parody account creator Fake Carol Lombardini.

Seinfeld by David Iserson (New Girl; The Spy Who Dumped Me)

Cast includes Paul Scheer (The League), Sherry Cola (Joy Ride), Tatiana Maslany (Orphan Black), Andrew Lopez (The Bear), Ayden Mayeri (Mr. Throwback), Flula Borg (Pitch Perfect), Saagar Shaikh (The Marvels), Humphrey Ker (Welcome to Wrexham), Brendan Hines (Locke & Key), Beth Dover (Orange Is the New Black), Chris Grace (Superstore), Jaime Moyer (The Great North), Sandeep Parikh (The Guild), Cyrina Fiallo (The Vindicators), and more!

Thank you for always taking the time to chat and more, Tatiana Maslany, I adore you! ☺️♥️

And very nice to meet/chat with you Brendan Hines! 😊

#©diozenoasin #retrospecs #show #live #comedy #funny #fun #losangeles #tatianamaslany #brendanhines #paulscheer #jasonwinstongeorge #sherrycola #elysian #saagarshaikh #humphreyker #flulaborg #bethdover #chrisgrace #johngemberling #sandeeppathak #andrewlopez #cyrinafiallo #jamiemoyle #davidiserson #benblacker #succession #seinfeld #orphanblack #shehulk

[geoblitzz]

BEHOLD! I'M NOT DEAD!

It's been a hell of a nightmarish year, and I legally can't tell you what happened to me! But let's just say that this witness, is protected B)

ANYWAY!

I'm done with my first semester of senior year of college! So! I'm gonna start posting Another Sunset again!

Check out my pinned post for a rise of the tmnt fic that has ben brewing unposted for literal years!

and now, a sneak peek to keep you up at night!

“Let. Our Brother. Go.”

For a moment, Maren seemed to actually consider this, with all the lighthearted brevity of a child picking out a candy flavor.

She hummed a small melody to herself, the sound a strange, echoey resonance that they hadn’t heard in her voice when she spoke.

“Let him go!” Leo shouted, truly past his patience. 

Maren sharply locked eyes with Leo, her smile wide. She spoke in a sing-songy tune: 

“Blacker Blood… Growing Pains…” 

She considered the turtle in her grasp, stroking her knuckle against his cheek, and he squirmed. 

“Suuuun Rissse… Will Saaatisfyyy-”

“Cut the bullshit lady! What the fuck do you want??” Leo was furious now- this was suppose to be their day in action! A back-to-normal-ass-whoppin’-evil-doers-totally-normal-summertime-filler-episode! 

What in the actual bum-fuck nightmare on Lu Jitsu’s green earth was this load of absolute steaming tom-fuckery???

[whumpyreader]

Tag, You're It

TW: Past wounds, panic, BBU (of a sort but not entirely)

(A man is rescued from the WRU but his rescue may mean more than just his own.)

Think con man, cop, and the children’s game of tag. That’s what it was currently. But before, it was more like being a wanted criminal with a neverending fear of jail hanging over his head.

Merrick Burke’s career as a con man began because of two women. The first was the Missouri River. His heart turned just as bitter that day as her frigid fingers were. Before she flooded, he had thought he had already lost everything–his parents, his wife and unborn child. After she flooded and while he was slowly freezing to death, it dawned on Merrick that he officially had nothing left. All there was left to do was drown and Merrick happily hurried his fate along because, after all, drowning wasn’t too bad. His prick of a father had taught him that.

The second woman was Alora Dorsela. When Merrick opened his eyes his sight was surrounded by white. His body was surrounded by something warm. She was sitting near him, watching him with eyes blacker than any coal he had ever seen. Her hair, just as black as her eyes, fell down her shoulder in a thick, coarse braid. Sweat and hair clung to her rich hazelnut skin. And all Merrick could do was moan. When he woke up again, she was gone and the doctors were the ones to tell him Alora Dorsela had saved him and brought him to the hospital. They also told him he had lost five toes and would probably suffer nerve damage.

After a five-month pity party, Merrick was ready. Homeless and starving, he began stealing. Not anything big but enough that Alora Dorsela found him again. At the time, he had no idea she had found him and was watching him.

This is when it became cop, conman, and the children’s game of tag.

…

Merrick stood only a handful of feet away, watching the chunk of a man he had been following for the last two weeks. The prick was the owner of a large corporation, one Merrick would love to screw over. 

He sat in the driver’s seat of his overly luxurious vehicle, yelling profanities at someone much younger who sat in the passenger seat. Must be some spoiled brat of a son who hated his father as much as Merrick hated him. His fists clenched when the chunk jumped out of the vehicle. Whatever the docile-looking young man had done was enough to make the chunk throw him out of the car and against the back of the vehicle. 

Merrick had to move closer, behind a garbage bin, to see what the chunk would do. The young man’s eyes were screwed shut, his shirt already up over his head, bearing the beating that tortured his back. He didn’t let out a whimper. Blood was dribbling down his temple.

It was a gruesome sight, enough to wipe out the thoughts in Merrick’s mind. He could only stand, in shock, watching.

Alora would wait. All good cops wait. But Merrick was no cop. He had nothing to prove except that he could outwit the cop. So, he waited. The chunk was sweating bullets by the time he was done and the young man lay limp against the vehicle’s trunk. The chunk threw him down the grassy hill behind him before driving off.

The hair on Merrick’s neck stood up straight. This was no son of a prick. He turned around, reading the letters on the big white building he had failed to read before he had gotten out of his car. 

WRU.

…

There were gentle fingers running through McKenzie’s hair when he came to and soft grass cushioning his body. Ben would be ripping his hair out to try to arouse him and every part of him knew this was not Ben except for his instincts. A breath of pent up breath whistled between his clenched teeth when he opened his eyes and threw himself away from the figure. The grass beneath knotted up his attempt to escape and he fell heavily onto his back. He sobbed at the intensity of the pain, barely able to see the figure walking on their knees to be closer to him. 

Adrenaline spewed from his spleen, gagging him with nausea and fear. “No, no, no. Please,” he gasped, throwing his arms up to protect himself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice said cautiously. “Let’s roll you onto your side. I saw what that loser did to you.”

The gentle hands grabbed his arm and pulled him onto his side, relieving the pain. He wept into the grass, waiting for the stranger to make the next move.

“Can I?” the stranger asked though he made no move to see what the stranger meant. Warm fingers brushed against the skin of his waist as his shirt was lifted. He straightened his back and whimpered as the air hit his wounds.

“I’m sorry. Just trying to assess. Think you can walk up the hill?”

Exhaustion overrode every part of him these days. But the mental exhaustion was the worst. Moving his body was easier than speaking these days. He pushed himself onto his knees, supported by his strained arms. The grass came up to meet him but warm hands got to him first.

“Woah, hey. Let’s just forget about walking for now, okay? That wound on your head needs to get checked.”

When his vision came back to him, he was laying up against the stranger’s chest, soaking in the heat from their hoodie. Warm hands were wrapped around his triceps, keeping him close to the source of heat.

“S-s-sorry,” he whispered, aware of how obviously needy he was.

“Sorry is a word you use for begging or if you shot someone’s dog. In this case, you should be thinking about yourself, not me. I don’t even have a dog...er, I'm watching a friend's dog but that's besides the points...and you don’t need to beg with me. I’m going to take care of you.”

In that case…He shoved his numb fingers into the pocket of his pants, retrieving the receipt. “Here,” he whimpered.

The stranger took the receipt, releasing one of his arms from the hold. “Hmmm.” Then he could hear the stranger smile. “This might just work.” And then, softer as if it was meant for the universe, the stranger added, “Fuck you, Dad.”

…

Merrick carried the man up the hill, fully aware that the sobbing was coming from the pain Merrick was currently afflicting on him just by carrying him. He set him next to the dumpster and knelt next to him. 

“So, you’re, uh, one of those box boy things?”

When his head shot up, Merrick had to look away.

“My dad was into that stuff when I was a kid. Until a woman he had murdered him.” He smiled at the tearful eyes that widened below. “Makes sense, don’t you think? Humans are powerful. They can’t submit all the time.” He pulled off his hoodie and offered it to the man. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Here.” He maneuvered the hoodie onto the shaking body. “So, there’s one thing you’re gonna have to do before you can take a break. I’m sorry.” And he sincerely meant it. “I’m sorta a part of something that I have to get done then I promise I’ll get you a bed and food. Okay?”

The man nodded.

“We have to go there.” Merrick pointed toward the clinic-like building across the lawn of grass.

The man stiffened but nodded, probably expecting it.

“That’s why you were dumped here, right? That asshole had to drop you off and didn’t care to walk you to the door? Well, I’m gonna walk you to the door. But I won’t let you stay. These places need to be burned.”

The man’s brow had squeezed together, staring at Merrick like he were some lawless criminal.

“Ready?” When the man nodded, Merrick pulled him to his feet. “Five minutes then you can sleep as long as you want.” He pulled the man’s arm around his shoulder and put a foot forward, relieved when the man followed. They hobbled toward the doors of the WRU and were greeted by some young lady who smiled way too much for a place like that.

Merrick grimaced and the man looked down. 

“Dropping off?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” Merrick muttered. “I watched his…keeper drop him off but he’s in no state to come walking up here alone.” 

The man’s shaking worsened. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be blacked out on the ground. He gripped the man’s arm tighter.

“Anyway, I want him.”

“That’s not how this works,” she stated, dropping her smile.

“It is,” Merrick argued. “Go get your boss and I’ll show you.”

She stalked off–obviously this wasn’t some dream job for her–and came back with some bald man.

“I want this one,” Merrick said, wasting no time to move things along. The man’s chin was already touching his chest.

“I’m sure our usherer has already explained how this goes.”

“Yes,” Merrick smiled. “However, I’m not new to this.” He pulled out the wad of cash in his pocket. “I want him.”

Baldy’s eyes widened. “This is very unprofessional–”

“Take it,” Merrick pushed, shoving the wad toward the bald man. He dug in his other pocket for the receipt. “Take this too so that this can be professional and I can be on my way.”

The bald man took the receipt.

“It’s all you look for. It’s all you need for your records,” Merrick pointed out, readjusting the man on his side. He’d be surprised if the man was still conscious. “So I’ll be on my way.”

He turned, surprised when no one argued. And even more surprised when the man against him took enough steps to get to Merrick’s car. “Okay, done. Now you can rest.” He laid the man in the back seat.

…

The sensation of walking turned into blackness then gradually turned into sensation again. McKenzie’s eyes opened to dim light and muffled voices.

“...all trackable, yes.”

“This’ll be the biggest one yet.”

“I’m hoping. No one deserves that. I gotta go. He’s waking up.”

A beep told him his newfound savior had been on speakerphone and had now hung up. Now the attention was on him.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

He would have pushed himself off his stomach to at least see the stranger better but there was no strength left in him. He groaned.

“Look, I’m not very good at pacing, I’ve been told. I’ve kinda been through some shit myself so let’s just cut to the chase. We’re in a rehab place, pretty much a hospital. You’ve been out for days now and they’ve pumped a lot of stuff in you to get you to where you’re at now. How long had he been starving you?”

Tears pushed to McKenzie’s eyes.

“It’s illegal what he did to you. What I saw him do to you wasn’t even a scratch compared to what the doctors showed me on you. I’m surprised you’re even alive. You’re a lot stronger than I am.”

The tears were flowing freely now and it only felt necessary to sit up and try to act normal.

“No, stay where you are,” the stranger huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I just…I can’t believe you went through this. Uh, my name’s Merrick, by the way. What’s your name?”

  Words in general, let alone his name, had barely left his lips in years. How was he supposed to speak his name?

“I get it,” Merrick sighed. “Are you up for some food? They brought in a tray not too long ago.” A smile spread on Merrick’s face. “I can see how much you want it. You mind if I help you sit up? You’re on some pretty strong stuff so you shouldn’t be in any pain.”

He nodded only because he desperately needed to feel food on his tongue again. The IV in his hand must have given him some nutrients but it wasn’t the same as actually tasting the food.

Merrick’s gentle hands gripped behind his shoulders, pulling him up and over on his back. His neck was too weak but Merrick raised the bed so he could sit up without lifting his head. Then Merrick did something unexpected. He dipped the spoon into the small bowl of broth and brought it to McKenzie’s lips. The liquid trickled down his chin and he parted his lips to suck it in. Merrick dabbed his chin with a napkin. It was the kindest act of mercy he’d ever experienced.

“Th-thank you.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,΅ Merrick muttered.

Merrick finished feeding him the tray then winked at him. 

“I’ve got a craving for dark chocolate so,” he pulled a small, wrapped chocolate from his pocket, “it might be a bit melted but if you suck on it, it might do you some good. Yeah?”

He nodded and parted his lips, instantly salivating once Merrick placed it on his tongue.

Just as Merrick had said, it was already beginning to melt so it was quickly gone and his eyes began to droop shut. He shot them back open, finding Merrick now sitting in the chair across from him.

“It’s okay,” Merrick hummed. “I’m here so I can be your lookout. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, I promise. Get some rest.”

…

“That was some kind of joke you played,” Alora barked the moment she pushed through the doors.

Merrick sat up, rubbing his burning eyes and the kink from his neck.

Her posture softened. “Were you asleep?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Merrick replied, sitting forward to check on the man. The man was still asleep, curled up underneath the covers like it were his hideout. The steadiness of his breaths was the only proof he was deeply asleep.

“Oh, so it’s true.” Alora stepped forward, pulling the covers down to observe the patient. “I honestly thought this was just an exaggerated part of the story.”

“To make it sound better that I tagged the WRU?”

The fire grew in her eyes. “I knew we should have made guidelines around what was taggable. The WRU is too big to take down.”

“I was stalking XLee Enterprise, actually,  and the prick that runs it – Bill or whatever his name is. But, I saw what he did to this man and I had to do something. But I promise Bill Lee is still on my blacklist.”

“It’s Ben. You had to do something?”

“Sure.”

“You realized how huge WRU is, right?”

“You realize you’re the best cop around, right?”

She huffed so he huffed and watched as she went to the charts hanging off the end of the bed. “Have you read these yet?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Um…” He shrugged.

“Don’t want to get attached or something? Well, if you’re going to play god, you’re gonna have to get to know your subjects.”

“I’m not playing god,” he growled. “Don’t ever accuse me of that. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“Because of personal experience?”

“You’ve no idea,” he grunted.

“Well, his name is McKenzie Madden. He’s twenty-eight and was accused of–”

“What?”

“This is interesting,” Alora chuckled, her lips curling into a snarl. “Accused of robbing a bank.”

Merrick rolled his eyes. “Interesting?”

“A bank owned by XLee Enterprise.”

“Oh shit.”

“Well done, Merrick. Looks like you had the upper hand all along.”

“Yes, and let’s just assume I was aware of that upper hand the entire time.” He rubbed his neck again. “I’m gonna need some time off, by the way. I can’t just…” He motioned toward McKenzie.

“No worries. This will take me longer than your other tags. I’ll see you when I see you. But count on not hearing from me for the month.”

…

McKenzie was being maneuvered onto his stomach. A soft hand wrapped around his wrist hanging off the bed and laid his arm gently at his side.

“He’s waking,” a fuzzy voice warned.

“I’m on it,” a closer voice buzzed. Fingers went to his hair, tucking loose strands behind his ear. “McKenzie? Can you hear me?”

His eyes shot open, only to fall back shut. 

“Good, good. Just take your time.”

“You need to be out of here in twenty minutes,” a voice snapped.

“Fuck off, asshole. Go enroll yourself in WRU and I’d love to see you function after that.”

A door slammed.

“Just take your time, McKenzie. We have all the time in the world.”

But McKenzie was in the habit of trusting the angriest person in the room. They only had twenty minutes, whether McKenzie could wake up or not. He moaned, pushing his face off the pillow, and, like a drunk, stared numbly at whatever his name had been.

“Remember me? I’m Merrick.”

McKenzie collapsed back onto the mattress.

“We’re in kind of a situation. If I had known this place was full of assholes, I would have taken you somewhere else, like my lovely apartment, which is where we are headed now. We don’t need this shithole…although the fact they have IVs and blood infusions, and whatever other shit lying around here has been convenient.”

McKenzie did not know which part of Merrick’s sentence to cling to so he nodded. “I’m ready.”

“You’re far from ready,” Merrick sang. “But once we’re home, you can rest as long as you like.”

“Okay.” He furrowed his brow, willing all his strength to his legs so that once he pushed himself off the bed, he could stand. But he couldn’t scoot himself to the edge and nearly passed out again from the pain.

“Hang on, hang on.” Merrick slung a purse of some sort over his head and ran to McKenzie’s side. “Don’t go thinking I have all these expectations for you. You can barely stay awake and I know that. I’m not gonna let you stand on your own.” He pushed McKenzie to his back. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” he gritted out before picking McKenzie up, under his knees and back.

McKenzie was too numb to feel much of anything. His arms dangled uselessly at his side and his neck fell back. 

“Just a quick skip up ten floors to the parking garage,” Merrick sighed. “Then you have free range of my car and, of course, the apartment.”

…

The scent of chocolate chip cookies was his world for a few minutes. Until the sun hitting his face and Tina Turner blaring in the background joined the scent.

“Take a chill pill.” Merrick’s voice was somewhere, in a different room. 

Last to enter was a shrill, ear-piercing shriek of some sort of animal.

“I said to take a chill pill! What the hell has gotten into you?”

Footsteps came closer.

“Oh, McKenzie woke up. Damn dog.”

The shrieking animal was a tiny chihuahua, dressed in a pink collar. She jumped up to the couch and shrieked some more.

“Put a cap on it, Annie,” Merrick growled. “Sorry, McKenzie.”

McKenzie didn’t mind, as long as this Annie didn’t bite. 

“I’ve watched all these shows where people come home to a fire and a warm meal, maybe a comforting cat that purs at their feet.” He put Annie on the floor and sat at McKenzie’s feet. “Welcome to my version of hell. Burnt chocolate chip cookies and a chihuahua that never stops trembling or barking.”

There was no fireplace but the place was decorated like a log cabin and the view from the window was isolated and safe. “Thank…you.”

“I have a buffet ready for you. What will it be? Broth, yogurt, a popsicle, ice cubes, electrolytes?”

McKenzie turned his head, wincing at what it awoke throughout his body.

“Don’t try to move. I can bring everything to you.”

“My–” McKenzie had not forgotten his life before. He had been his own version of asshole. But he had also been a shoulder to cry on for most of his friends in high school. He knew about needs and he had never been worried about voicing needs. With Ben, voicing needs was a joke. Now, McKenzie froze, unsure if Merrick could be trusted.

Merrick’s brow raised.

“My legs are cramping,” McKenzie whispered. “I think…I’d like to try to stand.” He flinched when Merrick stepped closer but Merrick only held out a hand. He took it, allowing Merrick to pull him only to sitting. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mind if I sit down?”

“No…sir.”

Merrick grimaced. “What’s your question?”

“Who was that person you were talking to in the hospital?”

Merrick snickered. “Alora Dorsela. She and I have a rather…interesting relationship. She took me in a few years ago after she arrested me for robbing someone. We have a bit of a deal going on. I continue to rob and she continues to take down criminals.”

McKenzie frowned. “Aren’t you…nevermind.”

“A criminal.” Merrick smiled. “There’s a catch. We call it ‘tagging’. When I tag someone, she has to take them down. It’s like a challenge. And I can only rob, or tag, criminals. I had been following Bill for years.”

“Who?”

“Your asshole guy.”

“Oh. Ben.”

“He’s the owner of XLee Enterprise.”

McKenzie looked down, feeling nervous.

“And I know you robbed him before. Well done.”

“So…Alora has to take down XLee Enterprise?”

“Not exactly. She has to take down WRU. I stole from them, mostly, not Bill.”

“Me?”

“Exactly! But, once Alora contacts me, if you’re interested, I’m going to tag Bill and I would appreciate your help.”

…

Two days later and Merrick sat in the chair across from the sofa. McKenzie was out cold, as still as a log. He hadn't moved since Merrick deposited him there after the hospital besides his feeble attempt at standing. He still wore his tattered shirt and pants since the hospital hasn't let him leave with their scrubs.

Annie laid in the crook of McKenzie's knees, not because she liked him but because she always found the hottest thing in the room to snuggle up with. Her ears perked up and suddenly she was howling like a maniac.

Merrick jumped to his feet, grabbing the dog and booking it to the kitchen where she was tossed in her kennel. 

“What is wrong with that dog?” he muttered. But then he heard it too. The door knocked again. He stumbled to the door, glancing at McKenzie who stared back at him in shock. His hands gripped the couch and his head was up as if he were attempting to stand.

“It's okay. Probably just Amazon.”

But it wasn't. A stranger stood at Merrick's door and he couldn't help but assume it was the WRU. “Yes?”

“Hi, I was sent by Alora. I'm a nurse and Alora’s neighbor. She said you needed help.”

“Oh.” It was a welcomed shock but a shock nonetheless. “Yes, come on in.”

“You can call me Sadie.”

“Hi. Uh…Merrick. This is McKenzie.”

McKenzie looked utterly miserable. He had sunk back onto the couch but his hands still gripped the couch as if he would flee at any moment. His eyes were puffy and red and the color had drained from his face.

“Hello, McKenzie,” Sadie greeted. She stuck out her bottom lip as she pulled out a bag of medical tools. “You’re not feeling well at all. I brought an IV to start.” 

Merrick stood, rigid, watching McKenzie collapse more into the couch.

As Sadie unzipped her bag, her voice broke the through the tension. “I also have some news for you. Ben Lee is dead”

“What?” Merrick gasped.

“He was tied up in WRU business. His bank was what WRU went through. Alora had to shut him down to make WRU frantic. They’re just frantic enough that she has a chance at taking them down soon.”

“You’re a hero, McKenzie.”

At this point, McKenzie was barely conscious. His brow furrowed and he moaned. “What?”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t robbed Bill in the first place. Now, you’re shutting it all down.”

“Oh,” McKenzie sighed, his lids falling heavily over his eyes.

[comicgoblinwrites]

Five Senses Tag

Tagged by @winterandwords — Sorry it’s taken me so long to get on these! My summer has been so busy! Thanks!

I’m sharing some lines from an urban fantasy I drafted a while ago. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do with it. I MIGHT self publish it, not sure if I want to try and trad publish this one. We’ll see! Currently titled The Darkness Inherent

TASTE All Ben had gleaned from the days spent with him was that Sera had a taste for fine food, expensive clothes, and that he charmed nearly everyone he talked to. Barely anything personal, and nothing about his family or where he was from: Hell, supposedly. TOUCH A cold, damp touch slid down the back of his neck, nails catching on his skin. Fingers closed around his wing and he jerked away, stumbling as the ooze sucked at his feet. SMELL On one side of the market flowers were being sold, mixing the smell of green things with the smell of fish from the other side of the market, where fishmongers shouted and sang and tossed fish to each other. SIGHT Though the space wasn’t the same as before, it was equally black—if not blacker—and that same prickling, wrong energy permeated everything. The surface under him was smooth as oiled glass, but reflected no light; there was no light. SOUND Something about this Teren made Sera’s skin crawl. He laughed silently, mouth splitting wider. In the back of his throat something moved, crawling over his tongue and past his teeth.

You know, sometimes I think “I’m not a horror writer, I prefer fantasy and sci-fi.” ANd then I reread some of things I’ve written and I’m like, no. No, this definitly has some horror.

(For the record TSOTE is getting queried as Sci-fi/Horror).

Tagging: @stanrendipity @lettersandinkstains

[manwalksintobar]

if we’ve gotta live underground and everybody’s got cancer/ will poetry be enuf?  // Eisa Davis to Ntozake Shange

         dear ntozake,

I got sacks of mercury under the skin beneath my eyes either cried too much or i’m abt to the cool war’s burnin up my retina again does poetry start where life ends? i know i’m supposed to be cool: i wear corrective lenses that feature high definition tragedy. baby in the dumpster       ethnic cleansing assassinations       multinational mergers i’m supposed to shake my head write a poem believe in ripples. but i ain’t cool. i emit inhuman noises i imagine terrorist acts as i flick my imaginary ash onto the imaginary tray i imagine going insane with a purpose and writing it down feels sorta unnecessary does poetry end where life begins? berkeley girl       black girl        red diaper baby born of the blood of the struggle but with reaganomics and prince pickin up steam in ‘81 nothing came between me and my calvins 10 yrs old       unpressed hair       playin beethoven readin madeleine l’engle       got scared in my pants when i heard this girl testifying ‘TOUSSAINT’ in the black repertory group youth ensemble i was just sittin in a rockin chair pretendin to be 82 and talkin like I knew all bout langston’s ‘rivers’

i wasn’t as good as her and i definitely wadn’t cool so i gave up drama and decided to bake soufflés zake you wda beat me up in the playground if we’da grown up together and you did eighth grade       ‘he dropped em’ at the regional oratorical competition i saw another fly honey rip it this time it’s ‘a nite with beau willie brown’ i was bleedin on the ground i became yours no more soufflés i jacked for colored girls right off my mama’s shelf my mama fania who was sweatin with you and raymond sawyer and ed mock and halifu osumare dancin on the grass       back in the day in you i found a groove never knew i had one like that did that monologue over and over alone in my room my bunk bed the proscenium arch 13 yrs old       screamin and cryin abt my kids gettin dropped out a window didn't know a damn thing about rivers but i knew abt my heart fallin        five stories you were never abbreviated or lower case to me you just pimped that irony that global badass mackadocious funkology you not only had hígado you had ben-wa balls in yr pussy

betsey brown on my godmother's couch nappy edges in mendocino at the mouth of big river spell #7 after the earthquake in silverlake the love space demands had to be in brooklyn yr poems are invitations to live in yr body love letters yr admirers dream they coulda written themselves no one cd find a category that was yr size blackety black but never blacker than thou you teased me into sassiness when i had none to speak of made profane into sacred but never formed a church sanctified women's lives whether we were reading nietzsche or a box of kotex we were magical and regular you many-tongued st louis woman of barnard and barcelona you left us the residue of yr lust left us to wander life as freely as sassafrass cypress and indigo and even the unedumacated could get yr virtuosity cuz you always fried it up in grease you built an aqueduct from lorraine hansberry's groundwater and it bubbled straight to george c wolfe you never read what the critics said and you scrunched up the flesh between yr eyebrows like everybody else in my family

but zake is poetry enuf?

i beg the question cuz you grew me up you    and adrienne kennedy     and anna deavere smith and all my mothers you blew out the candles on my 26th so when there's mercury under the skin beneath my eyes and the world ain't so cool do you write a poem or a will?

like leroi jones said     if bessie smith had killed some white people she wouldn't have needed that music so do we all write like amiri baraka does or do we all get our nat turner on?

i beg the question cuz i wanna get my life right do some real work and i really don't want to kill any white folk i mean     can we talk abt this maybe it's just my red diaper that's itchin but i still got that will to uplift the race sans bootstraps or talented tenths or paper bag tests this time we uplift the human race and i know the rainbow might be but is poetry enuf?

it's a naive question but i'm old enuf to ask them once in a while if we do finally unload the canon clean it out stock up on some more colorful balls ain't we only gettin the ones that are available at a store near you? doesn't the market end up setting the new standards anyway? is poetry enuf if it ain't sellin? if ain't nobody readin it? can poetry keep a man     who can't read from droppin his kids out a window?

and how can i call a ceasefire to this cool war in stanzas of eights when we've declared poetry a no fly zone? we have learned to protect it and its potential politics like a mother shoot down anyone who might overdetermine a poem's meaning (while we poets divebomb everyone else's politics with impunity like we're the United States or something)

if poetry is just poetry we save it from the conservatives but doesn't that mean it's of no use to the progressives?

is poetry enuf? cuz that's all i'm doin. makin up stories    on stage     on the page keepin the beat and that's all my friends are doin and that's what a lot of folks my age are doin

but if we've gone and burnt up everything in the sky if there's nothin else to eat but landfill stroganoff if we've gotta live underground and everybody's got cancer will poetry be enuf?

my aunt angela says i can do my thang and keep swinging left hooks to oppression if i stay up stay into it stay involved just one form of praxis will do. it's just my guilt that thinks i need twenty-two what's enuf?

shouldn't i (or somebody) be our secular bodhisattva become a real power player but skip the talk show can't we stabilize, rekindle collectives and cooperatives and collaborations therapeutic communities that double as creative juggernauts a publishing house     a theatre where the plays cost less than the movies get the neighborhood coven back together take dance breaks in the cubicles sing until the flourescent lights burst into snow i ask you because you changed me zake you changed thousands of women and i know poetry can't be enuf if you drunk

i ain't tryin ta walk off wid alla yr stuff and i got nuttin but love for ya so that's why i gotta know i'm sittin on my bed encircled by every book you've ever published they're open like fans marking pages with the flint of genius all i want is for this circle to grow so tell me:

is this where poetry and life are twins? i felt so crumpled up when i started writing you poetry seemed so useless and dingy next to all the bright red bad news but now that the poem is over i feel wide open like an infant of the spring just tell me how to feed this light to my responsibilities and poetry just might be enuf           love           eisa

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

When I’ve done the work of day, and I row my boat away

Down the waters of Loch Tay as the evening lights are fading-

And I look upon Ben Lawers, where the after glory glows

And I think on two bright eyes, and a melting mouth below

She’s my beautious nighean ruadh! She’s my joy and sorrow, too

And although she is untrue, well, I cannot live without her-

For my heart’s a boat in tow, and I’d give the world to know

Why she means to let me go, as I sing , “Horee, horo!”

Nighean Ruadh, your lovely hair has more glamour I declare

Then all the tresses rare ‘tween Killin and Aberfeldy

Be they lint white, brown or gold, be they blacker than the sloe

They are worth no more to me than a melting flake of snow-

And her eyes are like the gleam of the sunlight on the stream

& the songs the Faeries sing, oh, they're the songs she sings at milking

But my heart is full of woe for last night she bade me go

And the tears begin to flow, as I sing, “ Horee, horo!”

You.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 1): General Bracket Match 20

Dec Hansen | Identity: gay | Media: Join the Resistance

Dec Hansen is a main character in the aborted middle grade novel series following a squad of 14 year olds who joined the Resistance. He was born on the isolated swamp planet of Ques. An only child, his mother built him a droid named AG-90 to act as his brother. When he was young, he ran away from home because of “something that made him different”, before eventually crawling back to his mother and telling her about it, where it turned out his community was actually accepting. Ben Blacker, one of the authors confirmed this was about him being gay. Which feels like meta-commentary about representation. Ques wasn’t homophobic, but because Dec had never heard of same gender attraction he felt isolated. 

With the Resistance, Dec was quite the trouble marker, in part because command didn’t accept AG as his brother and let him train as a pilot. He quickly became friends with the main protagonist of the series, Mattis. After his shenanigans caused a power outage on the base, J-Squadron was sent to the thought to be abandoned planet Vodran to scavenge. Dec was separated from most of the Squad and ended up on the planet's moon, where Hadra the Hutt, the planet’s old ruler, was living in exile. They bonded over their mental health problems and feeling different from their community, which convinced Hadra to help liberate his friends from the First Order prison on the planet. With J-Squadron reunited, they traveled to Starkiller Base to save Jo from his First Order parents. They managed to escape right as Starkiller Base was being destroyed and returned to D’Qar right before the evacuation. They were presumably sent on a special mission shortly after, like the many Resistance characters who didn’t appear in TLJ. Unfortunately the failure of TROS means it will be a long time before his series is finished.

Conder Kyl | Identity: mlm | Media: Aftermath trilogy

Conder Kyl was a New Republic slicer employed by New Republic intelligence. Between the first two books of the Aftermath trilogy, he began a relationship with Sinjir Rath Velus (the first queer character in the New EU), a member of an Imperial war criminal capture squad. However, due to Sinjir’s alcoholism and hatred of vulnerability from being part of the ISB, their relationship was strained. Believing himself to be an unworthy partner, Sinjir broke up with Conder. However, Sinjir latter approached Conder and begged for his help to help work through all the politicking in the Senate against sending New Republic forces to Jakku. In the process, Conder was captured, and after Sinjir rescued him the two reconciled and got back together. Conder later got the chance to save Sinjir’s life in the process of foiling an assassination attempt against Mon Mothma. After the Battle of Jakku, he married Sinjir. His most recent appearance was a cameo in the novel Last Shot, where he is the chief of cyberware in the New Republic’s Digital Warfare Department.

As he is a supporting character, he doesn’t get any PoV chapters. Despite being a very skilled slicer, he is very straightforward and simply good. Despite Sinjir’s own self-esteem problems, he didn’t mistrust Sinjir for being an ex-Imperial. All the conflict in the relationship came from Sinjir’s own mental health problems. 

Art by @cinno on tumblr

[avengerscompound]

Deadpool V Gambit (2016)

[bloodinthegutter]

New X-Men (Vol. 2) #46 by Craig Kyle and Chris Yost (2008)

Deadpool V Gambit #4 by Ben Acker and Ben Blacker (2016)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Do you have a fav non Palladino Gilmore/Maisel director or writer?

Robbie Thompson wrote one of my favorite Supernatural episodes. Love that guy.

Jonathan Frakes does great work directing in the Star Trek franchise.

Actually, Jensen Ackles is also a really good director, I think.

Ben Edlund is another writer who slaps.

Bobo Berens. Another great writer.

Ben Browder wrote one of the most bonkers hours of television in existence.

Dave Filonni

Jerry Juhl back in the day, writing Muppet show episodes.

Ben Acker and Ben Blacker who did the Thrilling Adventure Hour podcast.

Go look up your favorite episodes of TV and look up the writer and director. You'll find new people to stan. <3

[matildazq]

Are you listening to TAH still? I think you’d like marshal no more

Definitely still listening to TAH. In fact, did a "comfort re-listen" of each of the series in order this past year. Loved Marshal no More!