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brattyfics · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Daya Galindo [Black OC]

Word Count: 4,681

Synopsis | Masterlist

Chapter One

On the last leg of a week-long trip to San Diego, Daya Galindo did her best to remain engaging, open, and approachable.

Along with thirty other members of San Diego’s elite inner circle, she occupied one Petco Park’s most expensive and exclusive Skyboxes. Many of her nights were spent in the same Skybox attending the Padre’s baseball games.

This time, however, the Skybox has been transformed into a ballroom of sorts. Several circular tables were spaced out in the large room, eight chairs provided at each. Simple but elegant centerpieces decorated the tables.

The $10,000 a night Skybox opened up to the empty stadium on one side, and a breathtaking view of San Diego’s skyline on the other side. The sliding floor-to-ceiling windows were closed, and Daya found herself missing the fresh air she enjoyed on game days.

Most attendees remained inside, adding to the suffocating feeling in her chest.

Her husband, commercial real estate mogul and serial entrepreneur, Miguel Galindo, was one of the few people outside on the brick terrace. He used the balcony to take a private call.

“You look so pretty!” Marcy Stevens, the wife of a potential business partner, complimented Daya in a chipper tone.

An eight-hundred dollar silk cocktail dress stopped just above her ankles. An equally expensive pair of nude heels complimented the deep red of her dress. The front was designed to cover her breasts, giving the illusion of modesty while the fabric hugged her curves, outlining her shape. Thin straps were tied intricately on the back of the low cut dress. The ensemble was on-brand for Mrs. Galindo, a perfect balance between sexy and classy.

The big, springy curls that framed her heart-shaped face, bunching around the top of her shoulders, were also on brand. Her makeup was done simply, shades of brown and gold to complement her features.

Marcy was right. She did look stunning.

Regardless, Daya did her best to appear humbled by the compliment. It wasn’t that she was cocky or arrogant. The truth was she had become numb.

“You too! I love your lipstick. What shade is it?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” The middle-aged woman considered it for a moment before ruffling through her compact.

With a bright smile, she held the tube of lipstick up victoriously. She passed it over to Daya to inspect.

After pretending to take note of the brand and shade in her mind, she passed the tube back to Marcy. “Thank you.”

She couldn’t care less what shade of lipstick the woman wore, but the name of the game was flattery. Fundraising galas, country club banquets, and art exhibits had all become a blur of polite one-liners one after the other.

“It’s so nice to see you.” She lied even when it wasn’t.

“We have to have dinner and drinks soon.” She said to be polite, even when she’d rather not spend her time discussing the newest fashion releases with bored housewives.

“How are the kids?” She asked, although she had no interest in listening to parents ramble on about how great their mediocre children were.

“I love your dress. Who designed it?” Chances were she didn’t care.

A lively buzz of murmurs was standard for these events. Conversations flowed as freely as the champagne. Whether it was to foster relationships or just pass the time, people desperately spewed out the words like they would die if they couldn’t get it all out.

The constant chatter annoyed her, but Daya was able to connect with almost anyone on some level.

She knew a little bit about a lot of things, so conversations about sports, stock-trading, or even spa treatments were right up her alley. She never would have imagined herself as the type of woman to participate in meaningless conversations daily, but alas, she was. Her experience as a member of California’s high society was a far cry from her upbringing.

Daya Galindo was born Dayana Sims inside a community hospital in Hawthorne, California. Her mother, Denise Sims, settled in Cali sometime during her pregnancy. Denise didn’t talk about her life before Daya much. Her daughter knew almost nothing about her mother’s family or her reasons for moving to California. She didn’t even know her dad!

Daya was as inquisitive as any kid. She often wondered about him—who he was, what he looked like, where he lived, and if he ever thought about her. Her mother shut down any questions about him. The answer was always ‘stay in a child’s place’ or ‘grow up and let it go’. That was her mother’s response to anything uncomfortable, and inadvertently she taught her daughter to shrink herself to avoid conflict.

It was one of many bad habits that years of expensive therapy hadn’t completely fixed.

Denise had also taught her daughter to not form attachments. They moved around a lot when Daya was young. Most times it was only a few cities over, but each time she left someone behind. There was no explanation for why. That’s just how it was. She made it through her teens and early twenties without feeling the need to set down roots.

Her husband, Miguel, changed that.

On paper, Miguel Galindo was everything any woman would want in a husband. He was wealthy, smart, handsome, and charming when he wanted to be.

An honors graduate of Stanford, he quickly established a name for himself in business. Fresh out of college, he moved to New York and started a career in luxury real estate. From there, his interests transferred to commercial properties, and thus the entrepreneur in him was born. Miguel now owned successful businesses on both the East and West Coast.

When Daya met Miguel, he was new to Santo Padre and adjusting to his new lifestyle. The man who raised him died, and his mother, Dita was a wreck. Miguel vividly remembered the sounds of Jose beating Dita a room over, and the way he viciously chose his words to cut her down. Everyone thought she would be excited to start the next chapter of her life without him, but Dita took his death the hardest.

Becoming the man of the family meant his own complicated relationship with Jose was put on the back burner. His mother needed him, and the family business desperately needed tending to.

As the couple’s only child, he was the obvious heir. Regardless of his feelings about it, it was inevitable. Miguel’s future had been decided before he was even born.

Through the crystal clear glass, Daya watched Miguel’s face contort in annoyance. With a quick wave of his hand, he gestured for his head of security, Nestor Oceteva, to join him at his side. A few words were uttered between them before they were making their way inside. She expected Miguel to rejoin her at the table, but instead, he made a beeline for the elevators.

She was a little concerned, but not alarmed. If anything had gone seriously wrong, Miguel would be by her side, excusing them for the evening. He probably just needed more privacy.

Daya stepped up in his absence, focusing on the Stevens’ project in front of her.

Tom Stevens was Marcy’s husband and the owner of a chain of hotels in downtown San Diego. Property value in San Diego was higher than ever and steadily increasing, which made the hotels a worthy addition to Miguel’s portfolio.

An epiphany inspired Tom. He was passionate about the hotels because he built them from the ground up, but he realized his passion was better suited for home.

Marcy was a forty-something widower who decided to give love another chance with Tom. He was ten years her senior and even more unlucky in love, but he didn’t let his previously failed relationships stop him from trying again. The couple were newlyweds, and it showed with the way they giggled and grinned at each other every few seconds. It was cute watching them interact like love-struck teenagers.

Daya and Miguel had their moments, of course, but what they had was much different than the Stevens’. The young couple had gone through their rough patches and made it out on the other side, but the newlywed glimmer was definitely gone. Tom and Marcy were still open to each other and hopeful for the future. Willfully naive in Daya’s opinion.

No, what she and Miguel had was much more complicated. Neither of them trusted anybody completely, even themselves.

In between light conversation, she admired the night sky. In the distance, she could see the top of their hotel. It would be at least another hour before she could go back there, sinking into the king-sized mattress for the night. The Egyptian cotton sheets were calling her name.

“I was out in Brawley the other day, and I saw some of your signs up. What are you guys working on out there?”

If she remembered correctly, it was Luke that was speaking to her. Daya turned in her chair to face him as she responded.

Mama always said, “A woman’s work is never done.”

Another fifteen minutes passed before Miguel rejoined them, the vein in his forehead also present and in attendance.

Daya took a quick glance over her shoulder in search of Nestor. He wore a similar expression, confirming her suspicions.

They hadn’t resolved the problem.

Her hand found her husband’s thigh, softly stroking the strong muscle through his slacks. They sat close enough to the table that the movement was hidden. She smiled at him innocently when his eyes found hers for a second, a clear warning behind them.

A young woman with toffee-colored skin, and a short coiled Afro, approached the table, introducing herself as Eva.

Daya scanned her slim frame in the bright green dress she wore while Marcy explained how they met. Seven months ago, while volunteering at Skid Row, apparently.

Tom stood to offer Eva his seat, hand resting on the back of Marcy’s chair.

Eva talked about her non-profit organization, speaking passionately with her hands about what needed to be done to eradicate poverty. She shared her personal experience with homelessness, and how it shaped her life.

The expression on everyone’s faces said they were listening intently, but Daya knew better.

Millionaires didn’t care about poverty, because their wealth depended on it.

Daya had never been homeless, but she had been poor, and it wasn’t fun. Helping to dismantle capitalism was the last thing on her to-do list. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t care.

While Eva spoke, Daya’s fingers inched up her husband’s thigh. She wasn’t surprised to find he was already half ready for her, his length thickening underneath his expensive slacks.

Miguel leaned over to whisper in her ear, the hairs of his beard just lightly tickling her ear.

“Watch yourself, conejita.”

The words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t remove her hand. Shifting in her seat, she crossed her legs in a poor attempt to dull the subtle throb below.

To her left, Luke asked Eva a question, diverting everyone’s attention to him. Daya used it as an opportunity to push her man further.

“Or what, papi?” The term of endearment rolled off her tongue with ease.

“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” He whispered through clenched teeth, speaking without moving his mouth. It reminded her of a mother scolding their child, and she resisted the urge to laugh.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” She warned Miguel, tapping his knee patronizingly.

Miguel’s arm came up to rest on the top of her chair, and his head dipped to whisper in her ear once more.

“Brat.” The word triggered something in her, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

A better woman would be annoyed by the nickname, or even insulted. Along with other words a wholesome woman wouldn’t appreciate, brat was a term of endearment between them.

Daya straightened, trying to clear her mind of dirty thoughts. The heated looks they were giving each other weren’t appropriate for the topic of discussion.

When she and Eva made eye contact, she nodded politely. When the woman stopped speaking, she would need to have something of substance to add to the conversation.

“Are you ready to go?” Miguel asked his wife, hand resting on her hip. She sighed with relief at his words.

The two of them had left the table under the guise of socializing, only to slowly make their way out onto the balcony.

"I've been ready. I hate to say it, but Marcy is working on my last nerve." Daya groaned as she remembered how Marcy kept her locked down for the past forty minutes. She had left the woman inside, and she hoped Marcy had found someone else to occupy her time.

"I don't know how many more fake bathroom breaks I could have taken before she noticed it was just to get away from her."

Miguel smirked at his flustered wife. She had a good poker face and tried to sell that nothing could face her. It was always a little entertaining to see cracks in her facade.

“I just hope this is all worth it. I have a headache from listening to everyone talk, and I can feel blisters forming on my feet.” She complained, pouting up at him.

Miguel dropped a quick kiss to her lips in apology before sparing a glance at her feet. "You don't have blisters, honey."

“You don’t have blisters, honey.”

“How do you know?”

Daya’s eyebrows raised, challenging him.

“I just do.”

“Well, how about you inspect them tonight when you’re massaging them?” She asked in a sweet tone.

Miguel laughed.

“Is that your way of asking for a foot massage?”

Daya nodded.

“Come on, loca. Let’s say our goodbyes, so we can get out of here.”

Locking hands, the couple began the slow process of trading goodbyes and promises for later dates. Another fifteen minutes later, they made it outside into the chilly night air, the California breeze kissing their skin. Daya was more than relieved to see the fleet of black SUVs that waited for them.

Nestor Oceteva stood by the truck in the middle, opening the back door for them. “Thank you, Ness.” Daya told him, accepting his help up into the vehicle.

A driver and Nestor's second-in-command and cousin, Antonio Oceteva, occupied the front seats. Daya greeted them both warmly as she crawled across the leather seats.

"I can't wait to get out of these shoes." She said to no one in particular.

With no answer, she slid across the seat to see what the hold up was. Miguel stood outside of the car, several feet away. In a heated tone, he and Nestor discussed something she couldn't make out.

Antonio turned around in his seat to stop her, hand stopping just before it touched her knee. She eyed his hesitant hand for a moment before she met his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Antonio was all business when he gathered himself to speak. "He'll be with you shortly, Mrs. Galindo." She huffed in response.

Daya craned her neck to look out of the window once more, but it didn't do much good. From her vantage point she could see that Nestor wasn’t happy, but not much else.

"What's going on?" She asked Antonio catching his hazel eyes in the rear view mirror. He didn't look worried, and that helped to soothe her some. At the same time, she knew it could just be his military training at work.

"I'm not sure, ma'am." He spoke in an even tone, giving nothing away. She thanked him but continued to look out of the window.

Daya didn’t need to know every single gory detail, but Miguel knew she hated being left in the dark. It created distance between them and made her feel shut out.

She could almost hear her therapist telling her to slow down and think. Logically, she knew Miguel meant no harm, but it reminded her of her childhood, making her feel small and insignificant.

He found her in the backseat with her arms crossed, eyes closed, and heeled feet tapping impatiently against the floor of the car.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, mi amor.” With a simple nod, he signaled for the driver to take them to the hotel.

His warm hand found her belly, holding her there while his tongue slipped past her pouty lips into her mouth.

She responded the way he expected, melting under his touch. Soft hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down to rest on the curve of her ass as she leaned into him. With each movement, Daya felt less tense. Several moments passed before they broke apart.

“What’s happening?” Daya asked, breathless from the kiss. Her eyes scanned Miguel's face for answers.

“It’s nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Miguel’s hands roamed her body, but she knew it was a distraction.

There’s a saying, “You either tell your wife everything, or nothing.”

Miguel often found himself stuck somewhere in the middle. There had been a time where he told her almost everything. Now, he operated on a need-to-know basis.

“That’s your favorite thing to say these days.” Daya said it with a smile, but her eyes told a different story.

“I didn’t mean it that way, mi alma. I just mean it’s not important enough to bother you with. I’m going to take care of it tonight, and then it’s done.”

“You’re leaving tonight?” She didn’t bother to hide that she was upset anymore.

The couple had spent the last three days in San Diego, occupying the penthouse suite of a downtown hotel. Their home was located in Santo Padre, a small border town on the outskirts of Calexico, two hours away from San Diego. Miguel had several meetings in San Diego during the week--with Tom, one of his lawyers, and the event. It just made more sense to stay in town for the week, rather than make the trek back and forth.

“I know I promised, but...yes. I have to take care of this tonight.”

The young couple had agreed to use the few days as a mini-vacation to recharge and spend quality time together. He had kept his promise so far, but she wasn’t happy their time together would be ending early.

“I understand.” Business came first. Always.

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything. I said it’s fine.” She pushed down the anger she felt bubbling in her chest. “Seriously, I’m not upset. There’s no point. You’re still going to do what you have to. Right?”

He nodded, watching as she checked out of the conversation. She faced the window, staring out of it at the blur of lights.

“Do you want to go home? If that will make you more comfortable, they can take you tonight.”

“No. I’m okay. I don’t want to be on the road in the dark." She told him with a grimace. "I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

The blur of neon lights transitioned into shades of shadowy grey as they entered the parking garage of the hotel.

“Nestor’s going with me, but Antonio will be here along with…” Daya tuned out as he named the guards that would stay in San Diego with her.

“They’ll take you home in the morning.” She nodded, gathering her bearings as the driver parked.

“Will you be there?”

“I’ll try.” She was disappointed in his answer, but at least he wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Antonio opened her door, and she accepted his warm, calloused hand as she stepped out of the vehicle.

Miguel met her halfway at the back of the truck, opening his arms for a hug. She stepped into them, the smell of his signature cologne washing over her. It relaxed her, and she forced herself to enjoy the moment. She was annoyed at her husband, but she loved him and wanted to appreciate every moment with him.

“Be good.” He whispered in her ear, tone gentle, but serious.

“I can’t make any promises.”

Antonio averted his gaze, turning his back to them. Nestor and the guards followed, choosing instead to focus on different parts of the garage. There were plenty of shadows for a person to hide in, and the couple needed privacy.

Miguel’s arms tightened around her waist, squeezing to let her know he was serious.

“You heard what I said.”

Before she could get a smart response out, she felt his manhood poking against her belly. Miguel wasn’t a tyrant, but he liked to play King of the Jungle sometimes; backing her into corners, and giving her silly ultimatums that he knew she’d rebel against. It was a fun game because it elicited a carnal response in both of them to fight for dominance.

“Be good or else I’m going to have to spank this fat ass.” She gasped as his hands cupped her ass. He squeezed the fat in his hands before jiggling it.

Daya moaned quietly, pinching her plump bottom lip under her teeth.

“You’ve told me what’s behind door number one. Now, what do I get for being a good girl? ‘Cause I have to say door number one doesn’t sound so bad right now.”

He pretended to think, cocking his head to the side. “What’s the saying, ‘happy husband, happy life’?”

Daya pressed a kiss to his chin. “That’s definitely not the saying, but fine. I’ll be good, but you owe me a foot massage for skipping out early.”

“I thought I owed you one because of the heels.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She would also have to pack his luggage for him. “Three. You’re in the hole for three foot massages, mister. I expect full payment by the end of the month. Got it?” There were plenty of people with better massage skills than her husband, but for some reason, they felt better when they came from him.

“I have no idea how you calculated three, but yes ma’am. I miss you already, conejita.”

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him for a kiss. “I miss you more."

Years of learning each other made it so they were in sync when their lips met, stoking fires in each other that wouldn't be extinguished any time soon.

“I. Love. You.” She told him in between greedy pecks. “Call me when you get a chance, ‘kay?” He nodded, understanding she meant for him to call when he reached the border. She would probably be asleep by the time he made it there, but it made her feel better when he checked in.

“I love you too.”

Entering the luxurious penthouse suite, the first thing Daya did was free herself from the designer death traps disguised as shoes.

There were plenty of amenities for her to enjoy— a jacuzzi style bathtub, and a spacious balcony with a breathtaking view of the bayfront. She intended to make the most of her time alone.

After assuring Antonio she was in for the night and wouldn't need his services, she stripped down to her birthday suit and ran a bubble bath.

The purple bottle was nearly finished from all the bubble baths she'd taken during the week. Whiffs of the lavender essential oil flowed up through her nose as she eased herself down into the rectangular tub. Powerful jets massaged her aching muscles with hot water, washing the day away.

Her hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, loose strands clinging to her neck. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her hair puffed up with frizz, but she didn't let it bother her.

Old school R&B played on her phone. She could barely hear it over the sound of the jets, but she crooned right along with the singer enthusiastically.

Eventually, the water was too cool to stand and she was forced to get out. With wrinkled palms, she dried herself off with the fluffy white towel.

Wrapping it around her midsection, she settled into the low chair of the vanity. It took some time, but she carefully removed her makeup and moisturized her skin.

Staring at herself in the mirror without all the bells and whistles was always a little humbling. It felt dramatic, like she was in a cheesy coming of age movie or something, but it was eye-opening. So much of her time was spent pretending for others—dressing her body up, and her personality down.

The exclusive parties and expensive accessories were fun, but they weren't everything. Most people that came across her thought she was superficial, but in reality, she was the opposite. She would never be able to convince them otherwise and that was fine.

The people that knew her understood her, and that was all that mattered. She had a close-knit, but complicated relationship with her friend group. Most of them had known each other for years, so there were layers to their relationships.

Daya, her very best friend, Ariel Castillo, and Ezekiel Reyes made up the core group.

The three of them met freshman year when Daya moved to Santo Padre. Along with the pressures of going to a new school, she had to deal with being the small fry in a group of big fish. Ariel and Ezekiel had been there to make the experience bearable. They connected through honor classes and bonded over their shared desire to go somewhere else, and be someone different.

Miraculously, all of them ended up stuck in Santo Padre.

Ariel received a full-ride scholarship to UCLA. She made it through the first year and a half, completing all her core courses, but then her father got sick. She came home to take care of him, but couldn't bring herself to leave again when he got better. So she settled, forgot her dreams of being a surgeon, and went to nursing school. Ariel was great at her job, the best Santo Padre Medical had to offer, but it hadn't been her dream.

Ezekiel hadn't even made it through his first year of college when his mother was shot and killed in his father's store. Her unexpected death made him spiral, sending him on a witch hunt to find out who was responsible. One thing led to another and he made a fatal mistake that ended him up in prison for eight years.

Daya never left Santo Padre for college. She was good with academics in high school, but always had a passion for art. Her mother didn't have any money to put towards college, and she wasn't particularly excited about spending another four years in school. So, she did what she was good at, designing web pages for business owners around Santo Padre.

It didn't pay great, but it allowed her to make connections. People were impressed with her work and shared it with their friends and partners. With a stroke of good luck, she was able to form the connections and save the money to start her own web development and design company. In thirteen years' time, she expanded the business across California from Santo Padre to Los Angeles, becoming one of the most popular and successful in its industry. Daya had touched more money than she ever thought possible.

She had traveled for a while, creating new stations took time and a lot of energy. In between, she went on trips out of the country, learning about new cultures and customs. It was hard to do with a growing business, but the experiences were worth it.

Eventually, she met Miguel, a kindred spirit who wished to be anywhere but Santo Padre. It was ironic that it was the very place they were both forced to settle. Miguel out of duty, Daya out of love and stability.

People came to Santo Padre from the north, south, east, and west. From Northern Cali, Arizona, or Mexico. The quaint town was like a vortex, drawing people towards it from all sides. Most were smart enough to pass through, but those that stopped stayed forever.

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @ifoundmyhappythought @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @thesandbeneathmytoes

“DEARLY DEPARTED” TAGLIST:

@buttercup812 @princesscornbread @oa-zidan @tian-monique @lovebennycolon @aria725

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x black!oc #miguel galindo x black oc #miguel galindo x reader #please let me know what you think

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bobbyshaddoe80 · 4 years ago

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Liberated Audio Reviews

Introduction:

The cult Sci-Fi series Blake's 7 has seen great admiration and appreciation in the 40 plus years since its initial broadcast in the UK., continuing to enthrall audience old and new alike. Despite its rather low budget, it possessed some pretty impressive writing and acting from its rotating cast of characters. Despite it being yet another Terry Nation brainchild, the series would evolve beyond the initial proposal/concept of 'Robin Hood in Space' under the direction of Chris Boucher to become something more than just a Star Wars clone.

Over the years, the show's devoted fanbase have poured over the show's 52 episodes and have long clamored, demanded, begged and pleaded with the Powers That Be for some sort of continuation or revival... In spite of the show's rather unorthodox and controversial ending.

After numerous rumors and false starts, which even included a full on audio reboot/reimagining by B7 Media back in late 2007/early 2008, it would be Big Finish Productions that would take up the daunting task of reviving and expanding the Blake's 7 universe starting in February 2012 with the Liberator Chronicles and the Classic Audio Adventures in January 2014.

The Liberator Chronicles are essentially enhanced audiobooks often told in the first person by whichever character is chosen to be the focus of the story. Often they are supported by one or two other cast members in order to help keep things from falling completely into standard audiobook monotony. Before tackling the full cast audios, I shall endeavor to present my thoughts and views on all twelve volumes of the Liberator Chronicles.

Please bear in mind that these reviews are based on my own opinions and no one else's. While I shall endeavor to be as fair as possible, I am not claiming that my opinion is the only one that matters and you are free to agree or disagree with me as you see fit. Just try to keep it civil. So, without further ado, let's get started by examining volume one.

Blake's 7 - The Liberator Chronicles Vol. 1

RELEASED FEBRUARY 2012

Recorded on: 23 September, 11 and 14 October 2011

Recorded at: Moat Studios

Review By Robert L. Torres

The Turing Test by Simon Guerrier

'After evading an attack by Cassini Pirates, the Liberator heads to the rogue moon of Quentil, where Avon and Vila infiltrate a top secret Federation science facility.

Vila assumes the guise of Dr. Yarding Gill, an expert in digital memory. And Avon is his "creation" - a super-advanced android that could pass for human. In fact, he does...

Can they maintain the ruse long enough to complete their mission? And will the Cassini Pirates catch up with them?'

Chronological Placement:

Series A - set after the events of LC Vol. 7's Disorder, between episodes Mission To Destiny and Duel.

This is a very well written story starring the late Paul Darrow as Kerr Avon, ably supported by Michael Keating as Vila Restal.

I love how the story is structured with Avon recounting these events AFTER the fact, like he was recording then for posterity into a dictaphone. I loved that Guerrier's writing didn't fall into the trap of having Avon try to do other voices or say 'said Blake', 'said Jenna' and so on. Nothing felt disruptive to the narrative and having Vila around never felt intrusive.

Kudos to Michael Keating for slipping back into the role of Vila Restal with relative ease. He will be quite reliable in a support capacity during many of these audios, and even get a chance at the spotlight... Which we will examine in due course. Right now, he lends his exceptional charm in this undercover mission posing as the scientist responsible for "creating" Avon.

Still, this story belongs to Paul Darrow, and he does a great job. It was a great story about what it means to be alive, what it means to be human and even serving as an examination of Avon himself. It was a nice inverse of the usual sort of questions regarding machine life wishing to be more human. Here we have a human considering himself to be more machine than man.

That is the interesting thing about Avon. Most scifi programs that deal with space travel tend to have an archetypical character known as the 'royal smart person'. For Star Trek TOS it was Spock, for Star Trek TNG it was Data, for DS9 it was Dax (and to a certain extent Bashir), for Voyager it was Seven of Nine, for Enterprise it was... Who the hell knows since everyone on that show was an idiot. As for Discovery... I honestly don't know cuz I haven't watched Discovery yet, but that's beside the point.

Avon is exceptional in his characterization only in that his desire to focus on pure logic and suppress his emotions does not come without its own drawbacks. Despite his intellect and skill with computers, he is someone that is also socially and emotionally cut off from others due to an inability to trust. He is also someone that sees the futility in giving over to emotional and irrational hysterics in order to showcase that he cares. Avon's intelligence also comes with a certain amount of ego, as he knows that he is smarter than many of his contemporaries, and much of the logic he embraces stems from a certain degree of self-serving self-interest.

His desire to assist in the situation with the AI android 14 stems from having an affinity with another creature of pure logic, and not wanting such a creature to be exploited and corrupted to further the aims and agendas of the Federation. This story is a great reminder of why Avon is a great antihero, as he is still willing to do the right thing in spite of himself.

Final Score: 8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Solitary by Nigel Fairs

‘Vila is in solitary confinement. His friends have abandoned him, his only contact with the world outside is Nyrron, a scientist from the planet Auron.

Amnesiac and confused, Vila attempts to piece together recent events... A mission to Dulcimer 4. An important meeting. And a visit to the jungle world of Terrulis Major.

In the depths of the foliage, the truth is waiting. And it's more terrifying than Vila could possible have imagined...’

Chronological Placement:

Series B - between episodes Redemption and Shadow.

I really do not have much to say about this story as it is profoundly unremarkable and is a major clunker in terms of execution of its concept, as well as the first person narration.

It has some interesting ideas, there is a central mystery that is interesting, with Vila finding himself in solitary confinement and abandoned by his friends, and we are introduced to a semi recurring guest character in the form of Auron scientist Gustav Nyrron, played by Anthony Howell ('Dr. David Keel' of the The Avengers: Lost Episodes range).

Nyrron himself is an interesting character as an ally for Blake and the Resistance, which begs the question why Cally wasn’t involved in this story as well. Because for an Auron scientist, he actually spends most of the time acting like either a reasonable interrogator or a benevolent psychiatrist for the imprisoned Vila.

The whole story itself is not executed terribly well. The Vila character spends a good chunk of the first few moments talking to himself, and then when Nyrron comes into the narrative, Vila spends the rest of the runtime being asked if he remembers certain events, and then goes on to basically recount events that lead up to meeting Nyrron and then goes on to tell Nyrron things that he already knows about.

As a Vila centric story, its also not terribly good, not even with certain unexpected revelations made. This story does Vila no favors and we don't learn much about Nyrron either. Fortunately, those are issues that would end up being rectified in later stories. Definitely give this one a miss.

Final Score: 4 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Counterfeit by Peter Anghelides

‘The Bovee Mining Facility: A Federation slave camp worked by disgraced scientists.

The planet shouldn't be of interest but it is: Avon's investigations reveal that it's rich in Illusium, a mineral that can change from one substance to another. With it, the Federation could be invulnerable...

Blake teleports down to Bovee, but gets more than he bargained for. There's another visitor to the facility - and his presence changes the whole game...’

Chronological Placement:

Series A - set after the events of LC Vol. 1's The Turing Test, between episodes Mission To Destiny and Duel.

This is not a bad Blake focus story, with added support from Avon. However, what we get is a pretty standard adventure with Blake hoping to obtain certain materials and destroy the means of that material being reproduced in another effort to cripple the Federation's power. We even get in an appearance by Travis, Blake's personal nemesis, to lure him into a trap.

There isn't a whole lot to say about the story because of how standard and basic it all is. The fact that the story is done on audio does play in well into certain revelations and surprise twists made within the narrative. Many of which I will not speak on as it goes into spoiler territory. Other than that, the story itself is not bad, it is definitely worth a once-over. Its just unfortunate that it is also pretty average and fairly unremarkable.

Final Score: 5 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Final score for Volume One of The Liberator Chronicles in its entirety is 6 out of 10 Plasma Bolts.

It isn't the best start to the Blake's 7 audio range as it really only has one story out of three to recommend it. Its great to hear the original actors back again, and thankfully they will be served better stories in the volumes to follow.

Special thanks to Craig Brawley of the Big Finish Listeners Facebook Group for his tireless efforts in mapping out the chronology of the audios and determining how they fit in with the established TV continuity.

#blake's 7 #reviews #big finish productions #audiobook

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catboysuigetsu · 5 years ago

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REN THAT MONKEY ONE HIT ME IN THE OBSCURE TRIVIA PART OF MY BRAIN AHHGHHH

(these were made by @writhingbeneathyou n i never posted them rip but like i love me some mother mother so they go here)

i can’t find the pic of the guinea hens so take this other fat bird

AHHHH thank u to the ppl who tagged me

here we go: @ejmcmoon @godtierwallflower @madaraismydaddy @viktormaru @escape-chan @jashinist-feminist idk how many ppl im even supposed to tag so like i’ll go with this

rules: describe yourself with 10 pictures you already have. no downloading or searching for new ones. then tag 10 people.

Tagged by @ga4ra 💕

I tag @usergaara @bongwoter @myaekingheart @who-let-the-deans-out-doctor-who @angelfukz and whoever wants to do it :p

#long post #tag games #brawley speak #i wish i could remember the context for the saucy one

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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Trump Employs an Old Tactic: Using Race for Gain https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/20/us/politics/trump-race-record.html

Trump Employs an Old Tactic: Using Race for Gain

By Peter Baker, Michael M. Grynbaum, Maggie Haberman, Annie Karni and Russ Buettner | Published July 20, 2019 | New York Times | Posted July 20, 2019

For the fourth season of “The Apprentice,” Donald J. Trump searched for a gimmick to bolster ratings. His idea was simple if explosive — pit an all-white team against an all-black team.

“Do you like it?” he asked, previewing the concept on Howard Stern’s radio show in April 2005.

“Yes,” Mr. Stern said.

“Do you like it?” Mr. Trump asked Robin Quivers, the African-American co-host.

“Well,” she said, “I think you’re going to have a riot.”

That gave Mr. Trump no pause. “It would be the highest-rated show on television,” he exulted.

Long before he ignited a firestorm by telling four Democratic congresswomen of color to “go back” to their home countries, even though three were born in the United States and all are citizens, Mr. Trump sought to pit Americans against one another along racial lines.

Donald J. Trump✔@realDonaldTrump

So interesting to see “Progressive” Democrat Congresswomen, who originally came from countries whose governments are a complete and total catastrophe, the worst, most corrupt and inept anywhere in the world (if they even have a functioning government at all), now loudly......

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Donald J. Trump✔@realDonaldTrump

· Jul 14, 2019

Donald J. Trump✔@realDonaldTrump

....and viciously telling the people of the United States, the greatest and most powerful Nation on earth, how our government is to be run. Why don’t they go back and help fix the totally broken and crime infested places from which they came. Then come back and show us how....

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8:27 AM - Jul 14, 2019

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Over decades in business, entertainment and now politics, Mr. Trump has approached America’s racial, ethnic and religious divisions opportunistically, not as the nation’s wounds to be healed but as openings to achieve his goals, whether they be ratings, fame, money or power, without regard for adverse consequences.

He was accused by government investigators in the 1970s of refusing to rent apartments to black tenants (he denied it but settled the case) and made a name for himself in the 1980s by championing the return of the death penalty when five black and Hispanic teenagers were charged with raping a jogger. They were later exonerated. He threatened to sell his Mar-a-Lago estate to the Unification Church in 1991 and unleash “thousands of Moonies” if city officials in Palm Beach, Fla., did not allow him to carve up his property.

Taking on competitors of his Atlantic City casinos, he questioned whether rival owners were really Native Americans entitled to federal recognition — then later teamed up with another tribe when there was money to be made. With his eye on the White House, he opened a yearslong drive to convince Americans that President Barack Obama was really born in Africa.

His own campaign in 2016 was marked by slurs against Mexicans, a proposed Muslim ban and other furors. To deflect criticism, two campaign officials said they regularly positioned a supporter nicknamed “Michael the Black Man” so cameras would show him behind Mr. Trump at his rallies.

In the White House, Mr. Trump equated “both sides” of a white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, Va., referred to African nations as “shithole countries” and said Nigerian visitors to the United States would never “go back to their huts.”

Mr. Trump has insisted he is the “least racist person you have ever met” and over the years he has made friends with prominent African-Americans, particularly sports and hip-hop stars. Just Friday, Mr. Trump spoke with the rapper Kanye West and promised to intervene in the case of his fellow artist ASAP Rocky, who is being held in Sweden on an assault charge, and followed up by calling the Swedish prime minister on Saturday.

Donald J. Trump✔@realDonaldTrump

Just spoke to @KanyeWest about his friend A$AP Rocky’s incarceration. I will be calling the very talented Prime Minister of Sweden to see what we can do about helping A$AP Rocky. So many people would like to see this quickly resolved!

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Some of Mr. Trump’s black friends defended him in recent days, saying his raw, politically incorrect approach was just bracing honesty about the reality of America, and not motivated by hate.

“I have an advantage of knowing the president very well, and he’s not a racist and his comments are not racist,” Ben Carson, the secretary of housing and urban development and only black member of the cabinet, said on Fox News. “But he loves the country very much and, you know, he has a feeling that those who represent the country should love it as well.”

Lynne Patton, a Trump family event planner now working in the administration, rejected accusations of racism.

“Trump sees success and failure, not color not race, not gender not religion,” said Ms. Patton, who is African-American. “I’ve traveled the country with this family, I’ve had drinks with this family, I’ve been at their weddings, their baby showers, their bachelorette parties. I’ve never heard anyone say anything bigoted or racist in my life.”

And White House officials argue that actions speak louder than words. Unemployment among Hispanics and African-Americans has fallen to record lows on Mr. Trump’s watch, they say, and the president signed legislation overhauling a criminal justice system tilted against people of color.

But the longer Mr. Trump spends on the stage, the more friends and former employees, like Michael D. Cohen, Omarosa Manigault Newman and Anthony Scaramucci, have concluded that he is more racist than they had admitted.

“Let me be clear: Donald Trump is a disgusting, filthy, petty racist and he is trying to start a race war in this country and what we saw this week is just the beginning,” said Ms. Manigault Newman, a former “Apprentice” star fired after a stint in the White House.

Mr. Scaramucci, who briefly served as White House communications director, wrote on Twitter that Mr. Trump would never have told a white immigrant to go back to his country. “That’s why the comments were racist and unacceptable,” he said, remarks that got him disinvited from a Republican fund-raiser.

For some who defended Mr. Trump against charges of racism in the past, this was a turning point. “As much as I have denied it and averted my eyes from it, this latest incident made it impossible,” Geraldo Rivera, a roaming correspondent at large for Fox News and longtime friend, said in an interview.

“My friendship with the president has cost me friendships, it has cost me schisms in the family, my wife and I are constantly at odds about the president,” he added. “I do insist that he’s been treated unfairly. But the unmistakable words, the literal words he said, is an indication that the critics were much more right than I.”

‘The City Was a Caldron’

Mr. Trump is a product of his place and time, born and raised in the Queens of another era. As he sought to make his mark in Manhattan real estate in the 1980s and 1990s, New York was struggling with a string of racial episodes, including the Bernhard H. Goetz subway shooting, the Howard Beach racial killing, the Tawana Brawley rape hoax and the Crown Heights riots.

In a city rived by tribal politics, elections were about assembling coalitions — white ethnic groups in Queens and Brooklyn, Hispanics in the Bronx, African-Americans in Harlem and, later, central Brooklyn. Race was a part of every citywide campaign every four years. That shaped the outlook of many rising stars of the moment.

“It was a period of enormous tension and the city was a caldron for those kind of emotions and very strong passions and feelings, and they spilled over,” said Robert Abrams, the special prosecutor in the Brawley case. “And unfortunately, I think Donald Trump was helping to fan some of those flames.”

The Justice Department housing discrimination lawsuit against him and his father and the case of the Central Park Five accused of rape were early milemarkers on Mr. Trump’s path. But he was a Democrat then operating in a diverse city and he showed a different side to many he met.

Charles B. Rangel, then a powerful African-American Democratic congressman from New York, saw Mr. Trump regularly when the developer would drop off checks for the party. What defined him was his “giant ego,” Mr. Rangel said the other day, but he never heard him make a racial remark.

“I don’t remember any remarks he ever made that was not sharing with me how much he thought about himself,” he said. “It was always the same story.”

The Rev. Al Sharpton, the civil rights leader who has grown more publicly critical of Mr. Trump in recent years, likewise recalled nothing overt. “I’ve never heard him say anything racial,” he said. But, he added, “I always sensed he was not comfortable being around us. He reminded me what he was — a Queens guy. He saw us as entertainers or athletes that he had to do business with.”

When Mr. Trump opened Mar-a-Lago as a club in the 1990s, he welcomed African-American and Jewish members. Still, he did not mind turning societal divisions to his advantage, at one point claiming Palm Beach was anti-Semitic in a zoning dispute because his members would be Jewish.

‘Put People in These Boxes’

Some who worked for Mr. Trump said he showed his true colors after growing comfortable with people. Jack O’Donnell, who was president of the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino and later wrote a scathing book about Mr. Trump, said the mogul would come into the casino and notice many African-Americans. “It’s a little dark tonight,” he would say.

According to Mr. O’Donnell, Mr. Trump said “laziness is a trait in blacks” and complained about an African-American accountant: “Black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes every day.”

In an interview, Mr. O’Donnell said Mr. Trump trafficked in stereotypes. “He genuinely believes things like white people are smarter. And black people don’t want to live next to white, and white people don’t want to live next to black people,” Mr. O’Donnell said. “And he rationalizes that as, everybody thinks that, so it’s not racist.”

Mr. Trump has dismissed Mr. O’Donnell as “a loser” but at one point accepted the book’s description. “The stuff O’Donnell wrote about me is probably true,” he told Playboy. Later he disputed Mr. O’Donnell’s account, telling NBC’s “Meet the Press” that “he made up stuff.”

Mr. Trump’s assumptions about people are based on what his biographer, Michael D’Antonio, called his “racehorse theory of human development.” Mr. D’Antonio said Mr. Trump told him a person’s genetic traits at birth were more important than anything learned over life.

“He likes to put people in these boxes and deal with them accordingly,” Mr. D’Antonio said. “It’s not universal and you can work your way out of the box. But working your way out of it is always personal. So one by one, black people can gain his confidence, but he does have this mentality about people as members of a group.”

‘The Blacks Love Me’

That helped shape Mr. Trump’s time on “The Apprentice,” where he was accused of giving short shrift to an African-American contestant, Randal Pinkett, who won the fourth season. During the finale, Mr. Pinkett said he was stunned when Mr. Trump, upon declaring him the winner, suggested he share the honor with the white woman he had just beaten.

“I would describe it as racist,” Mr. Pinkett said in an interview. “Not even racist overtones — racist.”

“Donald,” he said, “has constructed a world around him that reflects his identity and reflects his values. People who agree with him, people who celebrate him, people who he would consider to be his peers — wealthy white men.”

Mr. Pinkett added: “He’s completely out of touch with the realities of people not like him. Whether that’s people of color, ethnic minorities, immigrants — I mean, take your pick.”

Over the years, Mr. Trump has deflected criticism by citing friendships with black celebrities. In the 1980s, he became a fixture ringside in Atlantic City, befriending the boxing legends Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson and the promoter Don King. He briefly owned a United States Football League team, leading to friendship with its star player, Herschel Walker.

As the hip-hop industry flourished in the 1990s and 2000s, rappers often used Mr. Trump’s name in lyrics as a symbol of wealth and flash. Along the way, he became friendly with Sean Combs, Snoop Dogg and Russell Simmons.

Mr. Trump boasted about the mention of his name in rap videos, asking one of the secretaries to find examples on YouTube and play them for guests. “The blacks love me,” he said proudly.

By 2015, now running for president, he stopped using “the” before describing ethnic groups. While some black celebrities stood by Mr. Trump, other relationships have soured because of his politics. Mr. Simmons, in an open letter that year, told his estranged friend to “stop fueling fires of hate.”

‘This Is Just Politics’

The foundation of Mr. Trump’s campaign was built on questioning the birth of the first African-American president. To Ms. Manigault Newman, a conversation she had with Mr. Trump about the “birther” campaign during a break in taping of “The Apprentice,” was the first time she saw him as overtly racial.

“He was bragging about it,” she said in an interview. “I asked him, ‘Why would you do this?’ He said, ‘This is just politics. This is what happens in politics, you do opposition research.’”

And yet like others in Mr. Trump’s orbit, Ms. Manigault Newman did not find it so objectionable that she broke with him at the time. She spoke out about what she considered Mr. Trump’s racism only after she followed him to the White House and was subsequently fired.

In a campaign filled with racial controversy, Mr. Trump’s team sought to prevent a backlash. An ally in their efforts was the one they called Michael the Black Man.

Michael is Maurice Symonette, a man from Florida who once belonged to a violent religious cult and was charged but acquitted of two murders in the 1990s. During the campaign, he traveled the country to appear at Mr. Trump’s rallies holding a sign saying, “Blacks for Trump.”

Campaign officials said they made sure to position him behind the candidate. In October 2016, Mr. Trump noticed his sign. “Blacks for Trump,” he said. “Those signs are great. Thank you.”

Lynnette Hardaway and Rochelle Richardson, two African-American sisters and internet stars better known as Diamond and Silk, came to Mr. Trump’s attention after one of their videos went viral attacking Megyn Kelly, then a Fox host, for her aggressive questioning during a debate. They met Mr. Trump in December 2015 when he brought them onstage at a rally in Raleigh.

“I turn on my television one night and I see these two on television,” he told the crowd. He called them an “internet sensation” and implored them to entertain the crowd. “Do a little routine; come on,” he said. From then on, they became a regular opening act at his rallies.

Mr. Trump’s presidency has been filled with so many racial conflicts that many in Washington have become numb. After he made his “shithole countries” remark to lawmakers, some just shook their heads. “It wasn’t too much of a surprise,” said former Senator Jeff Flake, an Arizona Republican and outspoken critic. “He had been consistently coming from this.”

By the time of Mr. Trump’s “go back” taunt and the “send her home” chants of a rally crowd a few days later, congressional Republicans were clearly discomfited but unwilling to publicly repudiate him.

“The president,” said Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, the Republican leader, “is not a racist.”

‘When the Riot Starts’

Mr. Trump’s vision of a black-against-white season of “The Apprentice” never came to pass. He pitched it to NBC executives, prompting a series of can-you-believe-this conversations inside the network, according to two executives involved. It was quickly rejected.

One former executive described his reaction as, “Uh, I don’t think so!”

The concept later came to fruition on a rival network, CBS, which aired a season of “Survivor” in 2006 in which contestants were initially grouped by ethnicity. The idea generated protests but was defended by the producer: Mark Burnett, who also created “The Apprentice.”

“He always told me that was Mark Burnett’s idea,” Ms. Manigault Newman recalled. “But Donald Trump was champing at the bit to do that.”

He sounded enthusiastic during his appearance on Mr. Stern’s show in 2005. Mr. Stern asked if there would be both light-skinned and dark-skinned contestants on the black team and Mr. Trump said it would be an “assortment.” As for the white team, Mr. Trump said it should include all blonds.

Even as he egged him on, Mr. Stern expressed more concern about the ramifications than Mr. Trump. “Wouldn’t that set off a racial war in this country?” he asked.

“See, actually, I don’t think it would,” Mr. Trump replied. “I think that it would be handled very beautifully by me. Because, as you know, I’m very diplomatic.”

Mr. Stern agreed. “I gotta tell you something, on some level it’s wrong,” he went on. “But I like it. I like it. I would watch.”

“You’d have to,” Ms. Quivers replied, “because you’d want to know when the riot starts.”

Even as he egged him on, Mr. Stern expressed more concern about the ramifications than Mr. Trump. “Wouldn’t that set off a racial war in this country?” he asked.

“See, actually, I don’t think it would,” Mr. Trump replied. “I think that it would be handled very beautifully by me. Because, as you know, I’m very diplomatic.”

Mr. Stern agreed. “I gotta tell you something, on some level it’s wrong,” he went on. “But I like it. I like it. I would watch.”

“You’d have to,” Ms. Quivers replied, “because you’d want to know when the riot starts.”

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