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rebeccalouisaferguson · 3 years ago

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"I always just rode the waves,” Rebecca Ferguson says with a shrug. The comment hangs in the air, as if the Anglo-Swedish 37-year-old is only now processing that a combination of currents and tides has led her not just to an acting career but to the brink of big-screen stardom.

“I’ve never been ambitious,” she says. “I’ve always thought that that was a bad thing.” She’s seen others in the industry consumed by constant striving and asked herself why she hasn’t hungered for fame since childhood, slept in cars outside castings, barged into directors’ offices or thrown herself in the path of a producer. “But should I not be burning for this? Out meeting people and networking for the next job?” says Ferguson, who has chosen the sort of quiet, private life outside the big city that so many actors claim to crave. “My life just took another turn. But I’ve always thought: Am I where I should be?”

At the moment, on this late July day, Ferguson is slumped in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz sedan, crawling through rush-hour traffic on the M4 out of London. She is capping off a hectic week during a particularly busy period. Most immediately, she’s coming from a table read for Wool, the Apple TV+ adaptation of Hugh Howey’s bestselling postapocalyptic trilogy. Ferguson is both the star and, for the first time, an executive producer. “I’m sitting in all the different rooms, listening and learning like the students,” she says. She’s filming Mission: Impossible 7, her third tour of duty in the long-running series that first brought her widespread recognition. She’s also promoting the film Reminiscence, the sci-fi noir written and directed by Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy in which Ferguson stars opposite Hugh Jackman. And now she is starting a press push and festival prep for her role as Lady Jessica ahead of the much-delayed release of Dune (in theaters October 22), director Denis Villeneuve’s reimagining of Frank Herbert’s novel. “After this film, I think everyone will see what I see in her,” the filmmaker says. “She has a beautiful, regal, aristocratic presence, elegance. But that was not the main thing: The most important thing for me was that depth.”

After tracing a long, meandering path, Ferguson has landed in a rare and rarified position: ascendant in her late 30s (still an anomaly for women in the film industry) and sought after by some of the biggest names in the business. “When you meet Rebecca, you just see it. She’s very open, candid, collaborative, hardworking, funny—and not pretentious,” says Tom Cruise, who handpicked Ferguson to star opposite him in the Mission: Impossiblefilms, which are known for their demanding shoots. “She just rose to the occasion every single time.”

In February 2020, when the pandemic began, Ferguson left Venice, where she’d been shooting Mission: Impossible 7, and hunkered down with her husband, their 3-year-old daughter and Ferguson’s 14-year-old son from a previous relationship at their farm in Sweden. After four months, Ferguson returned to the M:I set and basically hasn’t stopped working since.

Dune has sat idle for far longer. By the time the movie premieres, more than two years will have passed since it wrapped. Ferguson recently asked to screen the film again: “I miss it,” she says. She ended up bringing along her Mission: Impossible co-star Simon Pegg. After the credits rolled, Pegg broke into a smile and wrapped her in a congratulatory bear hug. “That’s all I needed,” she says.

Despite being a sci-fi epic based on a novel from 1965, Dune feels “very timely,” Ferguson says, pointing to its handling of environmental issues, religious zealotry, colonialism and Indigenous rights. The plot of the film, which cost an estimated $165 million, centers on occupying powers battling for the right to exploit a people and their planet, named Arrakis, for melange (or spice)—the most valuable commodity in Herbert’s fictional universe, a substance that provides transcendental thought, extends life and enables instantaneous interstellar travel. “Spice,” Ferguson says, “is equally about the poppy and oil fields.”

Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a powerful secretive sisterhood with superhuman mental abilities. She defies her order by giving birth to a son, Paul (played by Timothée Chalamet), who may be a messianic figure. “She basically just f—s up the entire universe by having a son out of love,” says Ferguson. In her hands, Jessica is equal parts caring parent, protector and pedagogue. Among the skills she wields and teaches Paul is “the Voice”—a modulated tone that allows the speaker to control others.

The movie was shot in Norway, Hungary, Jordan and Abu Dhabi, whose desert landscape stood in for Arrakis. Filming there was particularly arduous, as temperatures exceeded 120 degrees Fahrenheit, limiting the shoot window to only an hour and a half each day at 5 a.m. and again at dusk. “We were running across the sand in our steel suits being chased by nonexistent but humongous worms,” Ferguson recalls, referring to the sand-beasts later rendered in CGI. “To be honest, it was one of the best moments ever. It was the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen.”

Back in London, Ferguson is approaching home. She leaves the following day for a small town on the coast of England, where she plans to spend her first vacation in two years and to do some surfing. “Let’s hope it’s good weather,” she says. “If not, I’ll surf in the rain.” Not that she’s the sort to paddle out into storm swells. “I think I’ve managed to stand on a board once in my entire life,” she says. “But it was quite a high. Complete surrender to the waves and total control all at once.”

Born Rebecca Louisa Ferguson Sundström to an English mother and Swedish father, Ferguson grew up bilingual in Stockholm. She immersed herself in dance from a young age, enjoying ballet, jazz, street funk and tango. Despite being shy and prone to blushing and breaking out when forced to speak publicly, Ferguson found she was at ease in front of the camera. She dabbled in modeling and then, at 15, attended a TV casting call at her mother’s urging. Ferguson ended up getting the lead role in Nya Tider (New Times), a soap opera that became wildly popular, splashing Ferguson’s face into Swedish homes five times a week.

When her role ended about two years later, Ferguson was adrift. She had no formal acting training to fall back on, no clear sense of how to steer a career and no major connections to the industry. She had a short run on another soap and appeared in a slasher flick and a couple of independent shorts, then…nothing. “I was famous in Sweden, but I didn’t really have an income anymore,” she says. “So I went and I worked in whatever job I could get.” That meant stints at a daycare center and as a nanny, in a jewelry shop and a shoe store, as well as teaching tango, cleaning hotel rooms and waitressing at a Korean restaurant. She eventually landed in a small coastal town named Simrishamn, where she lived with her then-partner and their toddler son, content to be a where-are-they-now celebrity.

When fame again came calling, Ferguson ran away. She was at the flea market when she recognized the acclaimed Swedish director Richard Hobert, and he saw her. As he shouted her name, Ferguson grabbed her son, who lost his shoes and sausage, and fled. “I panicked,” she says. “I don’t know why.” When Hobert eventually caught up to her, Ferguson tried to act nonchalant as he proceeded to tell her he’d admired her work and pitched her on the lead role in his next movie: “I’ve written this role, and I think I have written it for you. Do you want to read the script?”

Her work in Hobert’s A One-Way Trip to Antibes earned her a Rising Star nomination at the Stockholm International Film Festival. She quickly got an agent in Scandinavia, then one in Britain. On her first trip to take meetings in London, she read for the lead in The White Queen, the BBC adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels about the women behind the Wars of the Roses. Ferguson got the part, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort of England, earned her a Golden Globe nomination and the admiration of at least one Hollywood heavyweight.

Ferguson was in the Moroccan desert filming the Lifetime biblical miniseries The Red Tentwhen the assistant director whisked her off her camel. “We’re going to have to pause shooting,” he said as he asked her to dismount. “Tom Cruise wants to meet you for Mission: Impossible. We’re going to fly you off today.”

Cruise had seen Ferguson’s work in The White Queen and her audition tape and couldn’t believe she wasn’t already a major star. “What? Where has this woman been?” Cruise recalls exclaiming to his new Mission: Impossible director Christopher McQuarrie. “She’s incredibly skilled,” Cruise says, “very charismatic, very expressive. As you can tell, the camera loves her.” Ferguson landed a multi-picture deal to star opposite Cruise in the multibillion-dollar franchise. He and McQuarrie built out the role of Ilsa Faust for Ferguson, creating the anti-Bond girl, an equal to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt. “We could just see the impact she could have,” he says. “She’s a dancer. She has great control of her body, of her movements. She has the same ability to move through emotions effortlessly.”

Ferguson threw herself into the films and quickly found a shorthand with the cast and crew. “There was a dynamic that worked very well with all of us,” she says. “One of the things I absolutely love is doing all the stunts.” That physicality has given her a reputation as an action-minded actor. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve done 20 other films where I don’t kick ass,” Ferguson says. “Mission comes with such an enormous following. That was what made my career.”

Ferguson’s M: I movies bracket a number of films in which she played opposite marquee names: Florence Foster Jenkins, with Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant; The Girl on the Train, with Emily Blunt; The Greatest Showman, with Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams; Life, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds; Men in Black: International, with Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson; The Snowman, with Michael Fassbender; Doctor Sleep, with Ewan McGregor. And now Dune, opposite Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Zendaya and Chalamet, whom she calls “one of the best actors, if not the best actor of his generation—of this time.” She was similarly impressed by Zendaya, who plays the native Fremen warrior Chani. “She’s quite raw and naughty and fun,” says Ferguson. “She has an enormous f— off attitude.”

When Ferguson first spoke to Villeneuve about appearing in the movie, “he started telling me about this woman who was a protector, and a mother, and a lover, and a concubine,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘I’m sorry. You want me to play a queen and a bodyguard? And you want me to kick ass and walk regally?’ I was like, ‘Denis, why would I want to do that? That’s the last thing I want to do.’ ”

After the call, Ferguson says, “I went downstairs to my hubby and said, Oh, my God, he’s amazing, but I’m not going to get the job. I just criticized the character.” Ferguson worried she was being cast as a stereotypical “strong female character,” where “it’s constantly, ‘She looks good, and she can kick.’ That is not what I want to portray.”

Ferguson hasn’t always been able to work with collaborators who’ve given her the space to question or opine. “I’ve been bashed down. I’ve been bullied,” she says, though she opts not to say by whom. That was never a concern with Villeneuve, who welcomed her critique. He and his co-writers had already decided from the start to make women the focus of their screenplay adaptation, and he promptly offered her the part.

“I want Lady Jessica to be at the center, the forefront. For me, she’s the architect of the story,” Villeneuve says. “I needed someone who will convey the mystery and the dark side of the film in a very elegant and profound way. Rebecca was everything I was hoping for. She’s so precise. She brought a beautiful, controlled vulnerability—it becomes very visceral on-screen.”

Ferguson vaguely recalls trying to watch the 1984 version of Dune, directed by David Lynch, in her youth, but she fell asleep. And she had never opened Herbert’s novel until being offered the part in the new adaptation. As she dug into the book, she says, she learned that her character was subservient and far more like a concubine, forced to eat alone in her bedroom, not spoken to and not allowed to speak. Ferguson ended up relying primarily on Villeneuve for her research and prep—his notes and comments, his references and the pages in the book he suggested she focus on. “I would feel ignorant not to have read Frank’s book at all,” Ferguson says, though she admits there are parts of the sprawling novel (which Villeneuve is splitting into two films) she’s only skimmed. “I have to finish it.” That will not happen on her upcoming vacation, however. “Absolutely not,” she says “I am surfing.”

By the way, if you saw, I am snaking on the ground, snaking around my room to get good Wi-Fi—it’s not some dance or yoga thing,” Ferguson says. “You have to do that in this old house.” It’s a week and a half after our first meeting, and Ferguson is at her new home, a more than 500-year-old property southwest of London that has, over the years, been home to numerous English Royals. It’s more spartan than stately now. “Empty except for a rock star,” she says, turning her phone’s camera to reveal a framed duotone poster of Mick Jagger that’s leaning against the wall. “We haven’t even started renovating.

Ferguson has returned from her holiday fortified and with renewed confidence, thanks in part to her success on the surfboard. “I went up nearly every time,” she says cheerfully, “but the waves weren’t very high.” She shrugs. “I was proud. I was up. I rode them, not the other way around.”

After years of going with the flow, Ferguson is eager to replicate that sense of control in her career. She values her role as an executive producer on Wool, she says, “because I am, for the first time, a part of it from the beginning.” She relishes weighing in on every aspect, from casting (the show recently added Tim Robbins) to cinematography to her character—which has not always been easy for her. “Why do I feel it’s difficult to speak up? I still battle with these things,” she says. Alluding to those times she was pushed around in the past, Ferguson says, “I was angry, but it was more me getting off at ‘How can I let that happen? Why am I letting myself react this way?’ And I take it with me to the next thing where I go, ‘OK, how do I stop that from happening?’ ”

She is learning that she can ride on top of waves without giving up her agency or maybe just let them break against her. “I want to feel I can go home and think, That was a hard day or that pissed me off—and that’s OK,” Ferguson says, with a nod and tight smile. “Because I still stood there as Rebecca. I didn’t shift.”

#rebecca ferguson #interview #dune interview #mi7 interview #wool interview #tom cruise #denis villeneuve #mission impossible #dune 2021

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elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years ago

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February Contest Submission #15: The Old House

words: ca. 6000 setting: 20th Century. Real world (with a twist) lemon: No cw: Some angst. Mentions of parent death. Referenced/implied child abuse.

“It’s time to go.”

She saw through the mist a hand, reaching out for her. Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens. The hand could not hold her. It slipped away. She called her parents’ names, or so she thought.

They found her moribund little body in the snow the next morning.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna woke up with a start, chest heaving.

It was dark in the hotel room. Her roommate— partner?— stirred groggily next to her.

“Anna? What’s wrong?” Her raspy voice asked. “Was it another nightmare.”

“No,” she lied. “I’m sorry. Y-you can go back to sleep.”

She could feel Elsa’s eyes on her.

“What do you need?” She asked. Her voice spread warmth across Anna’s chest.

“…I could really use a warm hug.”

Next thing she knew, a pair of arms were gathering her into an embrace. She tucked her head under Elsa’s chin and sighed.

It would be a long day, it seemed.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Arendelle was a small town on an island north of Norway. It was born as a fishing town in the 1890s and never changed its trajectory. Only a few dozen houses, a fish-oil refinery, the docks, one church, one school, one hotel, and an administrative building uphill. The people of Arendelle were rustic and gloomy, much like the weather they were brought up in: hail twice a week, snow in winter, and rain the rest of the time. In short: Arendelle hadn’t changed one bit since Anna left.

Being at the foot of the mountain, Arendelle’s surroundings were prone to avalanches, and the most recent one had taken place only a week back. It missed them by a few miles, but it opened up a door for archaeologists from the University of Bergen, who came to study what had been uncovered by the snow.

Anna wasn’t an archaeologist; she was a girl on a mission. She left while her grandfather slept, hopping into a cargo ship to travel north. Her passage was worth weeks of work. She hadn’t expected the sight of the town in the distance to hurt her as it did, so she kept her mind busy, and spent her days searching.

The day things began to go downhill, she was, as always, searching for her parents’ bodies.

She climbed up the mountains with her wooden stick and stabbed the snow with it, searching for something harder than mud. Bones, hopefully, although she was terrified of finding frozen flesh sticking to their cheekbones. The sky grew dark and cold, and Elsa would kill her if she arrived one minute too late, so she decided to turn back. She followed her own tracks towards the dig (where they let her sit by the ever-burning campfire as long as she wasn’t too noisy). The skeletal tree-branches rattled above. The wind whistled and swooshed sharply, blowing rough snow that clawed at her reddened cheeks. Her hands were numb even inside her pockets. Anna’s only comfort was thinking about Elsa’s arms around her. Not even the sight of Arendelle downhill quelled the chill.

Anna might be a born-Arendellian, but she grew up in the south of Norway. She was ill-prepared for the hostile North.

However, if Elsa had taught her anything, was that even under the dark frozen sky there were objects of wonder.

As Anna trudged across the snow-sea which reached her mid-calf, something caught her eye. A narrow stone-wall led deep into the forest. Only two feet tall and falling apart already. Frost covered its surface.

Her heart leaped. She deviated from her path without a second thought, legs racing, pulse and breath quickening with emotion.

The picture-stone came into view after. It lied deeper into the woods. A bow-shaped slab. Abstract ships, stick-people, reindeer herds gathered on it in a violent array of reds. Waves, antlers, and swords, a story carved in stone. A sacrifice.

And in the center, she found her.

There was something else to Arendelle.

“The Queen,” The hotel-butler had explained.

“The Queen of Norway?” Anna had asked, much to his amusement.

“No, the real Queen.”

The Snow Queen, who with her reindeer-pulled chariot cast a shadow of frost over every corner of the North. Her arms rose towards the sky, where her snowflake curled like clouds, like the winds she sent south. The slab was thirteen-foot-tall and rose high above Anna, with its depiction of the nordic spirit. Below her, was an inscription.

As it usually did, time halted. Anna’s throat dried, her eyes widened. She covered her mouth. She could no longer hear the sharp branch-rattling or wind-whistling over the sound of her own warm blood pounding in her ears. She no longer felt cold.

She reached forward, tracing with a fingertip the carvings.

The finds couldn’t be younger than seven hundred years old. Had it truly been that long? Oh, Anna could nearly feel the sculptor’s trembling hands, their warm breath. She placed a hand where someone else’s hands had once been.

She searched for her journal inside her coat and scribbled down the runes she saw, as well as the stone and the wall she’d seen before.

Anna was no archaeologist— she wasn’t nearly smart enough—, but she understood why someone may choose this path. When she gazed upon this stone, it was as if there was no distance at all.

The icy wind pushed against her, pulling her out of her haze. Yes! She began to stroll downhill. She’d prove her usefulness! She’d alert the scholars of the new find.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Anna and the archaeologists were two land mammals sharing the same habitat, only, while they searched with brushes and trowels, Anna searched with a wooden stick. As non-competitive species, they often shared the same space, considering they knew her story. Anna wasn’t sure why the scholars tolerated her, but maybe it was because she and Elsa were a package deal now.

As soon as she reached her destination, Elsa threw her arms around her shoulders, kissed her cheek, and asked:

“Are you alright?”

She pulled back, anxious eyes studied her from head to toe. Anna’s heart always swelled with adoration when she heard that voice.

“I am,” she soothed her. “Oh, Elsa, you won’t believe what I found!”

“Wait.” Elsa tugged her towards the campfire and caressed Anna’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You’re cold. Come here.”

Soon, they sat on a log before the magnificent dig. A farmstead, they’d said. Stone walls and a half-rotten roof still mostly standing, surrounded by icy farming grounds where lamb bones were found.

The more awe-inspiring part, of course, was that a family had lived there. The farmstead was someone’s home. Elsa had described the findings in length: a family of three. All of them Christians, and funnily enough, also sheepherders. Thirteenth century. The settlement of Árnadalr lied many kilometers south, but this family lived in solitude.

Anna now wore an extra coat, held a mug of cocoa in her hands, and had Elsa fussing over her like a mother hen.

“What took you so long? You could get lost out there! And you left your scarf behind again. Here, let me find it.”

“Well, aren’t you a protective one,” Anna teased her, sipping her drink. Elsa’s pale skin flushed.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” she muttered.

Before Anna could snort and ask what that meant, Professor Mattias, who was in charge of the dig, intervened to ask about Anna’s findings in the woods. Her enthusiasm immediately reassured everyone that she brought good news, and while they couldn’t travel at night, they still celebrated in the hotel. They cheered with vodka at the charcoal-sketch of the picture-stone Anna had presented. Yes, she’d made herself useful.

As they congratulated her, Elsa remained silent.

The hotel was so old, half the lightbulbs didn’t work. There was only one phone, and a dozen residents lined up every day to make their thirty-minutes calls and clog up the narrow smelly corridor. Each curtain was half-eaten by moths; you’d be wise not to put your clothes in the closet. Three stories of dusty light, creaky stairways, and dirty cracked windows. You could hear every neighbor from three doors away, and the ice clawed down from the roof into a fang-curtain before every window. They offered only one blanket per bed, but Elsa had provided Anna with a woolen quilt on her first night. That had perhaps been the first step towards falling in love with her. Between paying for both of them and giving up her own warmth, Elsa had extended unconditional kindness towards Anna from day one. Maybe they’d been doomed from the start.

“They’re out of single rooms,” she’d clarified upon Anna’s arrival. “And I’ve been paying for an empty bed for the past week. Please, I insist.”

It might have passed as simple pragmatism had Elsa not been Elsa. It wasn’t only about her treatment towards Anna, no, but about how she’d treat a stranger in need, that made Anna lose control of her heart.

She asked her about her silence, in the light of their whale-oil lamp (their room’s electricity hadn’t worked since the ‘30s), as she tried to translate the runes with her journal and a book she’d grabbed from the local library.

“Is everything okay, Elsa?”

Elsa was sitting on her bed, silently combing her hair. She wore only her slip, which was quite distracting, but she didn’t have the intention of getting into bed, despite looking so tired.

At Anna’s words, she tilted her head.

“Why? Are you feeling poorly?”

Anna snorted.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“It’s nothing.”

Anna sighed. She closed the book and stared at Elsa.

“You never let me pull off this whole.. avoiding the subject thing,” she protested, and then extended an arm towards her, begging to come closer. A new anxious question settled on her tongue. “Are you…? Do you feel…? I mean, do you feel safe with me, Elsa? Like you can trust me?”

Elsa’s eyes studied her for one agonizing moment. She stood up. Well, they did only meet a month back. Weren’t they moving too fast? Her grandfather would certainly disapprove.

“It’s not that,” Elsa murmured as she approached Anna. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and nuzzled the top of her head. She planted a kiss there, and Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “I do trust you.”

Anna saw her pale fingers brush over the pages of her journal. Her uncertain translation read:

This stone was raised in memory of Agðar and Iðunn, who met their end in their travels. Their daughter carved this stone.

“You’re becoming quite a good translator,” Elsa commented, and placed another kiss on Anna’s hair. Heat crept up to the tips of her ears.

“T-thank you,” she replied, as she ripped off the page and stored it in her folder, alongside all other translations and sketches she’d scribbled since her arrival: small runestones, illustrations of archaeological finds, and multiple petroglyphs of the Queen, all of which she’d shared with the archaeologists. “You’re an excellent translator as well! I mean, I suppose you are. You work at the dig, after all.”

Elsa hummed.

“I’m not an archaeologist. I’m only a volunteer.” she argued. “In fact, I believe you’ve been more helpful than me.” She flipped over a page. “The Snow Queen?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” Anna stammered. “Kind of a passion project.”

“For the Snow Queen?” Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

“Well, legend has it she was single, right? Oh! Thy Majesty! Pardon my manners, but I shoult say thy bosom looks exquisite. Are thee by any chance in need of a shieldmaiden?”

A hand snaked around her waist. Anna shrieked as Elsa’s fingers dug into the sensitive spot. Between laughter and screeching, she curled on herself and tried to swat her hand away.

“Come on,” Elsa laughed. “It’s getting late. And keep working on your performance. That’s not how people spoke back in the day.”

She ruffled Anna’s hair and strode back towards her bed, and— alright, she saw swaying her hips on purpose.

Anna pulled her knees to her chest, placing her heels on the edge of the seat and hugging her legs.

“You said you grew up here, right?”

“More or less, yes. Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering. About the Snow Queen, you know.”

“What about her?”

“…That’s what I meant to ask.”

Elsa sighed. She rubbed her eyes.

“Just… some fairy tale,” she dismissed it, with a wave of her hand. “To make children behave. If you were nasty, a monster would feel your frozen heart and take you to her palace.”

“Was it a nice palace, at least?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was quite obedient growing up.”

“Oh, excuse me.”

Elsa chuckled, and Anna’s heart fluttered with affection.

“I was!” she insisted, giving Anna a mischievous look. “But no. I don’t think it was a nice place. In fact, they say everything about the Queen was cruel and horrible. She never seemed like girlfriend material to me.”

“You think?” Anna asked. “I don’t know. Maybe she was lonely.”

Elsa cast her eyes down, lips curling into a melancholic smile.

“Well, I doubt even she could resist your charms.”

With a delicate finger, she pulled Anna’s hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Now the heat was in Anna’s stomach, in her chest, in the way Elsa gazed at her with such an unexpected adoration, she couldn’t help but to raise her head and kiss her lips. Elsa sighed contentedly, her hand cradling the back of Anna’s neck. Her mind spun around as their lips brushed together.

Then Elsa pulled away, with a pensive expression. She bit her lip.

“Tell you what,” she said, grasping Anna’s hands. “Come with me tomorrow. I want to show you something.”

Anna grinned. That was good enough for her. She’d wait for Elsa to speak in her own terms and time.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

“That’s the thing,” she remembered her grandfather say, when she was seven. “I doubt they got lost. We would have found the bodies by now. I bet the reason they’re gone is because they didn’t want to deal with the responsibility, so they thrusted it on me.”

Anna woke again. Her hands trembled.

That had been a lie.

That had to be a lie.

He had always lied, hadn’t he? Maybe he just despised her.

Yes, she’d find them and prove him wrong.

They loved her. They were dead.

Thankfully, Elsa wasn’t disturbed by her pathetic dreams. Anna was surprised she still put up with her, but it was better not to take risks.

She grabbed her coat and got ready for the day.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

Elsa guided her through the lonely snow-sea of the mountains in the dark winter morning. The Queen seemed to have it against them, because she blew her snow all over and made them struggle to climb up the hills.

“Um… Elsa? How much until we get there?” Anna asked, as she could no longer feel her toes.

“Not much,” Elsa absently replied. Her eyes drifted all over the hills. She grasped Anna’s hand and pulled her along.

The cliffs overlooking Arendelle were a dark shadow in the distance, but they gained definition as both women approached. They didn’t draw a 90 degrees angle with the ground— rather, the earth elevated slowly, in bumps and rocky points, rising like a heavy breath towards the cliff’s foot. It was a rather secluded spot, where the snow didn’t hit as harshly. There they could rest until the time to search came again.

Yet Elsa had other plans. She toiled forward, along the cliff-wall, until the runestones came into view.

Blood-red lines coiled around the edges of a small stone plate, only half as tall as Anna herself. It protruded from near the foot of the cliff, high above. They exchanged a quick look.

“Can you read what it says?” Asked Elsa. Anna cringed thinking about her rune-reading skills.

“I can try?” She vacillated. Looking up, she read: “…Sif and Afvaldr erected this stone in memory of Nafni, son of Ulfarr, father of Afvaldr and husbandman of Sif, who met his end fighting the snow.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She saw Elsa grin from the corner of her eye.

“Anna,” she tugged at her hand. “Look.”

Anna followed the direction of Elsa’s finger, and saw extending into the distance a trail of stones with engravings on them. Small, big, at some points more spaced out than in others. They followed the length of the cliff-wall like a series of little stars, so tiny under the mountain’s shadow.

Anna’s throat tightened with emotion.

She stepped towards the next stone. This one had a cross on it.

“Feykir and his daughter, Esja, had this stone raised in memory of Rjúpa, Feykir’s wife and Esja’s mother, who was taken by the wicked snow. May God help her spirit.”

This one was close enough to touch. Anna traced the edge of the cross with a finger.

“How did you know this place?” She asked.

“Oh, you know.” Elsa shrugged. “This is my home.”

Many of the stones were cenotaphs, Elsa explained. No one was buried beneath this soil, but they might as well be, because each of these people, with names and loved ones, felt only a breath away.

“Bersa raised this stone in memory of Ilmr, her father’s sister. She was killed when trying to kill the snow.”

Anna’s breath grew heavier. She scrutinized these patterns, these strange writings, for several hours; they all dated to this wicked, living, killing snow.

Her heart vigorously pounded warm blood into her fingertips.

Then, she spotted a particular runestone. It was the greatest one of all, far away from the others, and it sported the same figure she’d seen only a day before; the Snow Queen with her arms towards the sky. Around her coiled a serpent with words on its skin.

In her blind excitement, Anna hastily climbed over rocks until she reached it. Elsa followed closely behind.

“Do you know what it says?” Elsa asked when she reached her.

Anna squinted at the words. Its inscription was the longest she’d seen so far.

“It says… Agðar and Iðunn came from the south. It was with them that the snow came.” She stepped to the side, to read the following line. “It was their daughter that brought the evil, with which she could slay a hundred men in… Árnadalr? So… um… Crap. I don’t know what it says here.”

She turned around, expecting to find Elsa willing to lend a hand, but her expression was painted by an unexpected sadness.

Anna’s stomach sank a little.

“Elsa?”

Elsa lowered her head.

“It says they killed her,” she explained. Anna squinted.

“She was real?”

“So it seems.”

“The Snow Queen? No. That’s… too much even for Arendelle. Besides, vikings wrote a lot of weird stuff, right?”

“It’s what the stone tells.” Elsa pointed out. “I know I said it was only a tale last night, but…”

“Wait. Agðar and Iðunn?” Anna checked the names on the stone again. “Were they…? Oh, Elsa… She really was real. And her parents…”

“…Yes. Agðar and Iðunn were the names of the people who lived in the dig,” Elsa clarified.

“So, the Snow Queen… she…” Anna looked at the carvings in stone again. Despair seized her heart. “Oh, no, Elsa. She had a family. They… Oh, goodness…”

A family, yes, one the Snow Queen had missed very much, enough to raise a stone in their memory. To think about this loss, this pain that she thought she knew even if she wasn’t quite sure, tore her heart in half.

Her eyes watered.

“I don’t think she was a monster.”

There was… a long history of death and pain in that family, wasn’t it?.

She heard Elsa breathe behind her.

“Anna, there’s…”

She dropped whatever it was she was about to say when she noticed the mist behind Anna’s eyes.

“I really hope I find my parents,” she murmured, then furiously rubbed her eyes. “D-did I ever tell you what happened to them?”

She could feel Elsa’s pain-stricken gaze on her.

“If that’s something you want to do, I’ll listen.”

Anna nodded. Her throat constricted.

“There was a storm,” she recalled. “I don’t remember what happened very well. I-I can’t even remember their names, and my grandfather won’t tell me, and besides…”

“He won’t?”

“Yeah, so I think I got lost, because I couldn’t see them anywhere. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. My grandfather adopted me afterwards.”

“But you’re the one searching for the bodies?”

“What can I say?” Anna shrugged and forced a crooked smile. “Guess he didn’t want to… unbury any painful memories.”

“He didn’t care to find his son?”

“…Or you could put it like that, too.” She wiped her eyes, looking down. “I think I’m beginning to understand him, though.”

Elsa squinted.

“How come?”

“Well…” She kicked the snow at her feet. “He told me once they’d left me in the snow. I like to think I actually got lucky, but I…” She shook her head. “I feel so selfish, Elsa. Like I want them to be dead, just so I can know they didn’t abandon me.”

“They didn’t,” Elsa blurted out with a thick voice. “Anna, your family loved you.”

“Then I shouldn’t be looking for them like this.”

Her voice sounded pathetic even to her.

She brought her hands together, and carefully leaned against Elsa.

“What are you going to do, then?”

She sucked in a ragged breath.

“I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “I don’t wanna go home. My grandfather…”

“Does he hurt you?”

“He’s never hit me.”

Elsa’s arm snaked around her waist.

“What will you do?” Anna then asked, trying to shift the attention from herself. “After the dig is over, I mean. You’ve lived your whole life here, right?”

“In a way.”

“Will you stay?”

That was a difficult question. Elsa could imply she’d leave her and neither of them would know, because Anna didn’t know what she’d do, either. Maybe she’d be the one to leave Elsa.

Elsa closed her eyes.

“I don’t know. Arendelle brings a lot of memories, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Then Elsa lowered her gaze. Screwed her eyes shut. She pulled away from Anna and wrapped both arms around herself.

“Let’s just go back,” she said curtly. Anna’s heart weighed heavily in her chest— from thinking of her family, from thinking about the Queen, from this sudden rejection—, but she respected Elsa’s space. Had she done something to scare her away? Oh, she surely must have.

They climbed down from the hills even though Anna’s toes were freezing. The mountains made her feel hopeless but so did the sight of Arendelle, and with Elsa walking several feet before her, not even glancing back, Anna felt as though there was no respite from this tired heaviness. She wanted nothing but to curl into a ball and sleep.

Just before they entered the town, Elsa stopped.

“Anna… listen.” She began. Her tone made Anna’s shoulders droop. “I-I can’t keep doing this. We can’t.”

Anna’s heart quivered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean… this has to end.” She raised her shoulders to her ears. Avoided Anna’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry. Goodbye, Anna.”

Her heart cracked open. Anna shook her head.

“What? W-why?” She shouldn’t feel this surprised. “Did… did I do something? I’m so sorry if I did. Just…”

The pain behind Elsa’s eyes was indescribable.

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. Just… please. I can’t say it right now.”

Anna wanted to reply (to scream, cry, seize her hands and not let go), but words failed her as Elsa turned her back to her and entered Arendelle.

As simple as that, Anna was alone.

She didn’t begin to cry until Elsa was out of sight, like a pathetic little child.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

During her last night in Arendelle, Anna dreamed of her sister.

Yes, she’d had a sister, and even though she didn’t remember her name or face she remembered she’d loved her, once. She remembered holding her hand and running in the snow, building snowmen and drinking chocolate with her. The affection and tenderness lingered after, as if carved on stone.

ᚼᛅᛁᛘᛦ•ᛅᚱᚾᚬᛏᛅᛚᛦ

"Anna, wait.”

Her breath and heart came to a halt. Turning around, she found her standing there, in her blue dress and gripping a rucksack. Her expression was both serious and desperate; pained. She raised a hand as if to grasp Anna’s.

“Oh. Elsa,” Anna blurted. The need to cover her face nearly overpowered her. “Uh… Hello.”

Elsa took her acknowledgment as a cue to come closer. Two long steps and a stare, just for a moment; and Anna understood she didn’t know what she was doing, either. Did she intend to apologize for being brusque? Her approach seemed to indicate so. It wouldn’t be unlike her. Anna was willing to accept and move on if that was the case, but truth was, she didn’t deserve an apology when she’d been the one in the wrong.

However, Elsa looked anything but angry.

Rather, her blue eyes drifted over to the ship in port; the sea. Her throat bobbed up and down.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving in the same ship,” she pointed out with a lopsided smile. Anna tried to smile back.

“Yep. So it seems.”

“Though I believe we’re early,” continued Elsa. “I was wondering if you cared for a walk in town.”

Anna looked to the side.

“Elsa, I… don’t know.”

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she insisted. “I know. I know. Y-you don’t have to listen to me. But I promise I’ll explain everything, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Elsa, there’s nothing to explain,” Anna reassured her. “You just… don’t feel the same way I do. That’s normal. I’m not mad, you know.”

Elsa shook her head.

“That’s not it,” she insisted. “It's… more complicated than that. Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this ever since I found you.” She wrung her hands together and looked down. “I just hope you’ll believe me when I’m done.”

Regret and desperation were draped over her posture like a heavy cloak, dragging her down. Even when hurt, Elsa still made her heart skip a beat with every gesture of kindness, and this one was no exception. Both her lovestruck haze and her intellectual curiosity compelled her to give Elsa a chance.

She picked up her bag and extended her arms to the sides.

“I’m all ears.”

Elsa’s grin reminded her of why she loved her.

“Really?”

“Yep! One-hundred-per-cent. Now, hurry up!”

Elsa sighed in relief. She placed a hand on her chest.

“Alright. Come with me.”

She led her out of the port and into town. Despite having spent the last few months in Arendelle, Anna wasn’t eager to revisit it, but it was different when she knew that’d be the last time she’d see it. She spotted the playground where she and her sister had played (her big sis always hugged her from behind when they went down the slide, because it wasn’t fun going alone), and saw the place where they bought cod and salmon on the weekends. The little kindergarten she’d attended had closed down, but the building still stood. Most streets hadn’t been paved. Mud stuck to her boots. The sky was still white and cold, the houses dull, and the people as austere and uncaring as they’d always been.

“When I was little,” Elsa began. “My family and I were hiding from a very dangerous man. Of course, I didn’t know that until I was much older. At the time it all felt like a game of hide and seek. We left the mainland, and when that wasn’t enough, we went even further.” She gulped. “We crossed a line that night, and someone else suffered the consequences.”

Anna bit her lip but didn’t interrupt. She feared any disturbance may break the spell and chase Elsa away.

“Anna, what do you remember from the dig?”

“There was a family. With a kid. The Snow Queen. And… her parents died.” Anna recounted. “Is that it? You were reminded of your family?”

“…I was, yes,” replied Elsa. “Anna…”

Was that it? Had it been a dumb case of miscommunication? Of course! She’d been so stupid. Neither of them had been in the right place back then, but now they were, and they could sort out the problem. Perhaps, Elsa didn’t hate her.

Only then Anna realized they were standing before the old house.

Her stomach sank. Her breath hitched and a shiver ran down her spine, mouth hanging ajar. She stepped back.

“Oh, no,” she heard Elsa mumble.

The house was still made of wood, although it had lost its color. Two stories. A window was broken and so was one of the steps leading up to the entrance. From inside came the smell of dust and rust and rot.

“Anna?”

She looked at Elsa, and couldn’t find the words to beg or cry or scream, but she didn’t need to because Elsa didn’t ask questions. She held her reluctant gaze for a moment and then she nodded, stepped forward, and took Anna’s hand.

She managed to hold her composure and lead Elsa inside.

The house had been empty for thirteen years, and it had collected dust and spiderwebs over time. It still felt like home, though. A cold fireplace, where Mama often sang to them, or the rocking chair by the windows, where Papa sat to tell bedtime stories.

Anna’s ribcage unlocked with force. She exhaled shakily and blinked the blurriness away.

Elsa was dreadfully silent, but her thumb caressed Anna’s knuckles. This gave her the strength to climb up the stairs towards her old bedroom. The window was so dirty, you could barely see at all. Nearly all the furniture was gone, save for a pitiful nightstand.

“Anna?”

Anna placed both palms on the nightstand and screwed her eyes shut.

“W-would you tell me about your family? Please?”

She did not have a family to embrace her but perhaps she could bask in the comfort of someone else’s warmth.

“My father was a physicist. My mother was a historian,” continued Elsa. “A-and I had a little sister. Even then, I loved her with everything I was.”

The drawer was stuck. Anna struggled with it.

“W-we never meant to leave her behind.” Elsa’s breathing was laborious. “But there was a blizzard; a small avalanche. And she got lost. We tried to go back for her but it was too late. We’d already reached the other side.”

The wood made a horrible rattling noise, but it eventually gave in under Anna’s strength.

“To this day I still don’t understand how such a thing could happen. We spent thirteen years trying to go back, a-and my parents didn’t make it. The people in town saw something in me. They feared me, and I never knew why. I-I didn’t mean to scare them. My parents tried to find a way back, but they—they didn’t make it. I-I took care of them myself. Gave them a proper…” her voice cracked horribly. “T-they deserved to see her again, yet only three years later the very same window opened itself to me. I didn’t cross it. In fact, it crossed over me.”

Inside the drawer was a single photo frame. Anna picked it in her trembling hands.

“Elsa…”

“I was happy. I was back, after so long. And then I found my little sister, too. I can’t describe the way I felt when I saw her again, all grown up after thirteen years.”

Anna traced a finger around her sister’s childish face on the frame’s glass.

“Elsa, I…”

“But then, I began to feel… something else. I thought I was just… happy to have her back, even if I hadn’t dared to tell her the truth. But I was wrong. What I felt… scared me. I wanted to be with her all the time, but I couldn’t stand to look at her face. I felt disgusting. I-I still do.”

Anna put the frame down, and studied her sister from head to toe. The same blue eyes, snow-like hair. The same gentle features but also the same inner strength her broken little mind still remembered. Her thoughts were no longer made of words; she couldn’t hear them over the blood pounding in her ears— her heart would jump out of her chest at any moment. They had all come to a halt as her brain processed Elsa’s words. Her sister. Her sister, who had been away for so long, who was now back, who had taken care of their parents’ burial alone and who still made Anna feel like the most loved person in the world.

Her heart made up its mind. She threw her arms around Elsa’s neck.

“Oh, Elsa…” she breathed, and choked back a sob. “You’re not disgusting. Please, don’t ever say that. I love you.”

Her sister. She was back, from beyond time. She was the same girl who tucked Anna into bed back then. She’d taken care of baby sheep yet she saw herself through monstrous lenses. The Snow Queen, in love with her little sister, who one day vanished from her farmstead and was never seen again. Who raised a stone in memory of their parents, for people hundreds of years later to remember them. This girl with a quivering body, holding Anna in her arms.

A tear ran down Anna’s cheek.

“I realized that, regardless of how I felt, I would lose you again if I didn’t tell you,” Elsa whispered. “That’s all that matters. We can forget about whatever it is that I feel. That’s alright by me.”

Anna shook her head against her sister’s shoulder.

“Well, g-good thing it doesn’t have to come down to that, right?” Anna chuckled wetly. She slowly pulled back, and found her sister’s hands in hers.

“Even now that you know the truth?” Elsa closed her eyes. “No. It isn’t right.”

“What are you talking about? Elsa, can’t you see? I love you. I… will need some time to wrap my head around this, but… All these years, I thought I was alone, b-but I wasn’t! You and Mama and Papa were always out there. You were even searching for me! A-and now I have you back, and… Oh my Goodness, I got my sister back… A-and she’s in love with me.”

Anna hesitated for only one second. For some reason, she could believe her, almost without trying. Her sister, yes, it wasn’t normal, but after walking across time and back– after losing her for so long, normal was out the window for her. She wouldn’t lose her, in one way or the other.

“I’m sorry.” Elsa murmured.

“What? Elsa, have you met you?” Anna spluttered, then laughed. “Not everyone is lucky enough to say their sister loves them this much.” She stood on tip-toes and pressed her lips to Elsa’s— her sister’s— her family’s. The warmth that spread inside her body felt natural, and it did so even more when a hand cupped the back of her neck. She pulled back after a moment. “We have time to figure things out, Elsa,” she said. “Y-you’ll come with me, right? You’ll give me a chance?”

Her sister’s eyes brimmed with tears. Her hand tucked a strand of red hair behind Anna’s ear.

“I’m scared, Anna,” she admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

Anna grinned like a lovestruck fool.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she reassured her. Then a siren came from the port, echoing through Arendelle. They exchanged a smile. Anna stole one more peck before Elsa could speak.

“Are you satisfied? Shall we go now?” Elsa giggled.

They made it outside the house, and once outside, the brightness blinded Anna for an instant. When she inhaled the fresh ocean air, she felt as if she could float. The damp, heavy odor of the house no longer clung to her lungs.

She looked back. The house hadn’t changed. Its wood was still colorless and empty of life. It was completely empty.

“Anna?”

Her sister stood next to her, more beautiful than she remembered. She looked at her with all the love in the world.

The siren blared again.

Large snowflakes swirled past them like a swarm of puffy hens.

Anna grasped her sister’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s time to go.”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: angst #cw: death #cw: child abuse

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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January 29, 2021: Mad Max (1979)

I’ve made it no secret how much I love the movie Mad Max Fury Road.

It’s a chase movie through the dystopian Australian desert featuring guys in souped-up, tricked out cars and motorcycles, and Charlize Theron has one metal arm and is a bad-ass, and also this shit.

Look, I’m not exactly a testosterone-fueled basic bro, but...COME ON MAN THIS MOVIE ROCKS. I just love it SO MUCH. So, why the hell haven’t I seen the other movies in this franchise, all of whom are directed by the same person? Well, my answer to that is the same as it always is.

I genuinely don’t know. I just never have. BUT THIS IS ACTION JANUARY! What better time to fill in this missing blank than RIGHT GODDAMN NOW?

LET’S GO. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

So, it’s “a few years from now,” in Australia. Given the past year, this has become slightly more realistic, but anyway. A cop-killer named Nightrider (Vincent Gil) is on the loose, and the cops are on the case. Soon, an entire platoon appears to be chasing the Nightrider and his girlfriend. All the while, we get a glimpse of another policeman, gearing up to join the chase.

We get some car chase action, crashes included, with a couple of cars destroyed, a phone booth tipped over, half of an RV demolished, and one cop possibly dead. All the while, a car labeled Interceptor pulls onto the road, ready to join the case.

The driver of the Interceptor is none other than Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson), who, uh...intercepts. Also...Rockatansky? Is...is that silly or the best last name I’ve ever heard? I genuinely do not know, and that disturbs me.

They drive right into a construction zone, with Max right behind, and Nightrider’s car explodes, and Max stops in time, and we get our first full look at him as he stares on, surprised.

Max goes home to his wife and son, who are totally gonna be alive by the end of this movie, probably throughout the whole franchise. He heads to work the next morning to meet with a colleague, Goose (Steve Bisley), a motorcycle cop who broke his leg in the chase. With a friend, they’ve put together a new car, a Pursuit Special.

This, however, appears to be some kind of plot by two high-ups, Commissioner Laboutache (Jonathan Hardy) and “Fifi” Macaffee (Roger Ward). Seems like they’ve provided the car to keep Max on the force, as he’s their top cop, and yearns to quit the force. I can only assume that it’s because of his wife and kids, who will definitely be alive by the end of this movie. The proof of that just KEEPS PILING UP.

Max appears high in demand today, though, as a group of motorcycling nomads ride into a small town, looking for the body of Nightrider. They’re led by the TOTALLY SANE Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne), and they wreak havoc on the town and its citizens. A young couple try to escape the town, but they soon find themselves chased by the gang, their car is destroyed, and they are...well, they aren’t killed, but it’s not good.

Their fate is soon discovered by Max and Goose. The young man is seen running away, the girl is rescued, and a drugged-up gang member is discovered screaming “Nightrider!” Max and Goose now have an idea of what’s going on.

The gang member, Johnny the Boy (Tim Burns), is arrested and brought back to HQ. Toecutter’s right-hand man, Bubba Zanetti (Geoff Parry), is sent back to get him. To be specific, he sends his attorneys to fetch Johnny. On the day of his trial, nobody shows up, including the young couple. Therefore, Johnny’s allowed to walk. Goose is NOT OK with that outcome, and assaults Johnny and his attorneys.

Back with Toecutter, Johnny Boy is almost killed, as the group find some surveillance devices planted on a...manakin? Yeah, they have this weird sexual fascination with a realistic shop manakin, and the cops bugged it. Not sure what else to tell you, that’s just what happens.

The next day, Goose leaves home, and we see that Johnny Boy’s figured out where he lives, as he’s waiting outside. Goose rides to work, but the wheels of his motorcycle look up, and he FLIES off the highway.

He’s...completely OK? Yeah, like, he’s totally fine. No idea how the hell THAT happened, and the guy that picks him up shares my sentiments. Goose borrows the man’s truck, and heads out, but Johnny Boi intercepts him with a well-thrown brake drum. HA! He stops him with brakes.

The truck crashes, and Goose is still surprisingly alright as Toecutter arrives. Toecutter, violently ant-cop, orders Johnny Boy to set the truck and Goose on fire, as it’s leaking fuel. Johnny doesn’t want to, but Toecutter gets it done anyway. Geez, what is it with action movies and guys named Goose? LEAVE GEESE ALONE, MOVIES!

At the hospital, Max arrives to see his critically injured partner, who’s badly burned and on a respirator. Max is VERY affected by his old friend’s massive injuries, and heads home. He quits, for good this time, although Fifi insists otherwise. Max insists that he’s scared that he’ll begin to enjoy the danger of it too much, and would rather stay rational for the sake of his family. Fifi convinces him to simply take a few weeks off, and think about it further.

So, Max takes the time off, going on vacation with his family. He talks to his wife Jess (Joanne Samuel) about his father, and his feelings for her, and they’re toooootally gonna live until the end of the movie.

They stop in a town, and stop at a shop to fix the car. Jess takes her son to a beach get some ice cream. And also staying at the beach is...Toecutter and his gang…yup. Yup, here we go. They obviously assault, since ME WANT WOMAN OONGA BOONGA, and she escapes with their son. She picks up Max, and they take off.

Feeling unsafe, the family heads to a friend’ s farm to stay safe and fix up their car. Jess goes down to the beach near the farm...and so does Toecutter and his gang. On her way back through the forest (how much property do these people OWN), she finds herself followed by the gang. And then, she…

...makes it back to Max. Huh. I was sure she was a goner. Anyway, Max gets their friend to take her back to the house, and he goes hunting for them. However...their son is still out there. Shit.

Jess, a devoted mother, goes to find him, only to find him in the hands of Toecutter and his men. But damn, they’re SAVED by their friend, May Swaisey (Shiela Florence), who comes with a gun in tow. She fires it, alerting Max to the trouble, then grabs the baby alongside Shields. They flee, with Toecutter’s gang eventually escaping.

Unfortunately, Max never finished fixing the car, and it dies on the highway, with the gang in hot pursuit. Despite May’s best efforts…

Fuck.

Sprog’s dead. And Jess is in a coma, and they say that she’s going to recover. But, uh...yeah, that doesn’t matter to Max. After Goose, Jess, and HIS SON? Toecutter’s DEAD. And Max goes and gets his car at the police station. First stop is the mechanic from earlier, who told Toecutter where they were. And Max ain’t playing around at this point.

Turns out that the group hangs by the beaches in order to intercept fuel trucks, and siphon off their fuel. With that intel, Max goes hunting. And OH BOY, he’s out for blood.

He runs four of them off a bridge, then heads to find more. He goes after more, then sees someone downed in a field. Unfortunately, it’s an ambush, and Johnny, Bubba, and Toecutter shoot him in the leg and run over his hand. Bubba tries to run him over, but gets shot in the process. Johnny and Toecutter take off, as a...falcon begins to eat Bubba?

Yeah...yeah ABSOLUTELY not how falcons work, but OK then.

Max runs Toecutter down in his car, then causes him to ram into an oncoming truck. We get some CRAZY ASS EYE SHOTS (they are weird), and Toecutter bites it...in a really unceremonious fashion, considering that he was the one to kill your son. Anticlimactic, but OK.

Still gotta find Johnny, though, and Max drives all night in search of him, only to find him having killed a man and driven his car off the road. Max meets him at gunpoint, and cuffs him to the downed car as be begs for his life, claiming his own innocence. Doesn’t matter at this point, though.

youtube

And that...is Mad Max. Huh. That was...interesting. And somehow, very different than I expected! But here’s the deal...

No Epilogue.

Yup, I’m tackling ALL of the Mad Max films at the same time! See you tomorrow for the next one!

January 30, 2021: Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior (1981)

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 9 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(7593 words - it got a bit out of hand and too long)

(Read on AO3)

Nine

Jose glances over at the man in his passenger’s seat and gives him a smile. He still can’t really believe all that has happened since last night. It feels like a dream.

Not only has Brock finally talked with him, but told him he loves him, wants to be with him as his boyfriend and now even wants to come out to his parents.

Jose’s not sure how he feels about the last part because the only way he can see this going is really badly. He’s very nervous about it. He’s also scared for Brock’s safety, because he doesn’t trust his asshole father one bit.

Jose’s own coming out had been unnerving and stressful, but all he had to worry about was getting beat up at school or mocked by his relatives. Getting shot by his mother or father had never been one of his worries, not that the rest hadn’t been horrible enough for a sixteen year old. But he’d been in love back then, with his first boyfriend and he’d wanted to hold his hand and kiss him. Sneaking around wasn’t as much fun as it sounded, and at some point he just got scared that the rumours would get to his mother before he had a chance to talk to her. She hadn’t been surprised at all, but had still managed to make the whole thing horrible, by sitting him down and giving him a very detailed talk about sex - gay sex. It had come in helpful about a six months later, but at the time he’d thought he’d die out of embarrassment.

He’s worried about Brock, about all of it being too much too fast. Of course, he wants him in L.A. with him and he doesn’t want to hide him or sneak around. If Brock asked him to however, he would do it. He’d drive to this fucking stupid yeehaw-town every week if he had to, just to go and see his man in secret – that’s how crazy he is about him, literally.

A kiss placed on the back of his hand brings him out of his head.

”You’re ok?” Brock asks him.

”Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Brock chuckles and keeps his hand in his. ”Take a right behind that barn and park the car there. I can go in through the back and the car can’t be seen from the house.”

Jose parks the car as instructed and turns the engine off. ”You sure you wanna do this? You know you don’t have to.”

”Yes.” Brock sounds absolutely sure and weirdly calm.

”And you sure you don’t want me to come in with ya?”

”Absolutely. You stay here. The second you’d come in, it would be a fight.”

”If you not back in thirty minutes or give me some kind of sign you alive, I’m coming in with the troops to get ya,” Jose vows.

”What kind of troops?”

”Me and the twenty people living in my head.” Brock guffaws and pulls him into another kiss. When he pulls back, Jose wraps his arms around his neck to keep him close.

”You’re crazy.” Brock says it so lovingly that Jose doesn’t even protest, but instead kisses him again.

”You been warned now. No complaining when you stuck with my crazy ass.”

”I’d love to be stuck with your crazy ass. And I won’t regret doing his, don’t worry. No matter the outcome, I can’t see things being worse than just a week ago.” Jose is surprised that Brock picked up on his worries even though he didn’t voice them out loud. ”Just… be here when I get back. Don’t leave, ok?”

”Never. My gay ass won’t leave this car or this place or you, promise. You got thirty minutes.”

”Ok,” Brock takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself for what’s coming. Before he leaves, he leans back into the car and pecks Jose’s lips a couple of times. ”For luck.” He winks at him and then is gone, has walked into the large barn. Jose takes his phone out and starts the 30 minute countdown, nervous about how this is going to go and his worries grow with every second that ticks down.

***

Brock takes another deep breath before he opens the backdoor to the house. He knows his parents will be sitting in the kitchen having breakfast. He wants to surprise them, so they won’t see him come. As quietly as possible he slips inside and can hear the usual breakfast sounds from the kitchen: the clatter of the dishes and cutlery, his mother hurrying through the kitchen getting things for his father and his father flipping through the newspaper.

”Good morning,” he greets them, very aware that he is still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

”Brock!” His mother sounds either relieved or worried, he can’t really tell, but she puts her fork down and looks at him.

”Where the hell have you been? I had to do all the work in the stable and barn on my own this morning. You gonna do the hay on ya own later,” his father barks and only shortly looks up from his newspaper.

”I’m gonna get you some coffee and make you something to eat,” his mother makes a move to stand up, but Brock stops her.

”No, I already had breakfast, thank you,” he says politely.

”I don’t care about your breakfast. I asked you a question!” His father puts his newspaper down and glares at him.

”I have to talk to you,” Brock says instead.

”You got the hussy pregnant, whoever she is?”

Brock ignores his fathers comment, leans against the counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He feels his heart beat away in his chest, much faster than usual, but he’s not scared. He knows that no matter what happens Jose is waiting in the car behind the barn and Ada will be on his side. He won’t be alone, he won’t be homeless and he will be loved; maybe even more than he’s ever been here in this house.

”I didn’t get anyone pregnant and I didn’t spent last night with a woman.” He just wants to go on when his mother interrupts him.

”Then where have you been? It’s not right being gone all night, no one knowing where ya at. Then you show up here in yesterday’s clothes. It’s not right, son.”

”Before I can tell you where I’ve been, there’s something else I need to tell you first. I… like… I know you’re gonna be disappointed and probably hate me, but… I can’t go on like this anymore. Things need to change.”

”You wanna bail on us again and leave us with the work, so you can go to some fancy school no one needs?”

”No, dad.” Brock shakes his head, but there’s a glimmer of hope in his chest that one day he will be able to do exactly that and study what he always wanted to study. ”But, like, it’s gonna depend on you, if I keep working on the farm or not. Because…. I’m gay.”

There, he’s said it.

He’s come out to his parents and they stare at him with wide eyes. The silence is very loud.

”What?” His father is so shocked that his voice is weirdly soft for once and Brock wonders when he has last heard it like this.

”I’m gay.” He says it louder, nearly proudly.

”But…no. No!” His mother shakes her head and presses her hand to her mouth. Brock feels the sadness and disappointment radiating off of her. It hurts, it does, but he’s still bracing himself for the explosion he knows is going to happen with his father.

”No son of mine is gay! I made sure of that!” He mumbles the words, which is weird.

”You surely tried beating it out of me, but it didn’t work.”

”You’re no faggot!” There it is, the yelling he has been waiting for. His father’s fists slam down on the kitchen table.

”I spent last night with a man, so I’m pretty sure I am.” Brock ignores the slurs and tries to stay calm. A broken sob makes him look to his mother who has started to cry.

”Get the fuck out of my house! You disgust me! You no son of mine! My son’s no faggot!”

Brock takes a deep breath as more and more homophobic insults fly his way, that are getting cruder by the second. ”You sure you want me to leave? What about the farm and the work?”

”I’d rather burn the damn thing to the ground than have a faggot working and sleeping here. It’s damn time Dan takes over and starts working on the land he’s gonna inherit anyway, while you’ll burn in hell. And now fuck off before I shoot ya!”

”I’m gonna pack my things and leave. You won’t have to see me no more,” Brock replies, looking his father straight in the eyes. There’s so much he wants to say to him, tell him what an awful joke of a man and he is, but he knows it’s not worth it. This man doesn’t even deserve his anger. It’s not like he expected anything else. ”Mom? That’s what you want, too? You want me to leave?” He needs to ask though, because he still has hope. But she simply looks down to the table, like she can’t bear to even look at him anymore. ”Alright,” he nods, knowing that’s it.

He grabs his suitcase from under his bed and first puts his clothes in, then the few other things he wants to take: Photos, a couple of books, his bible, his old laptop, his photo camera and his phone charger. He also adds the small wooden chess game his grandmother bought him a long time ago and a small wooden chest he carved himself.

”Brock?” his mother is standing in the doorway, a tissue clasped tightly in her hand. He stops checking the room for forgotten things for a second and gives her his full attention.

”Mom?”

”Don’t… just say you didn’t mean it. We can like… the reverend can get you help and your dad will calm down and… we just gonna forget it all. If you take it back…” She’s still crying.

”I can’t, mom. I’ve tried conversion therapy when I went away to College and it didn’t work.”

”You knew back then that you’re…. that you’re thinking like that?”

”I’ve always known mom. And I tried to fight it and I tried to change and lie, even to myself, because I thought it was wrong and a sin and… everything y’all always told me. But I can’t do it no more. I’ve felt like shit for so long and I thought about killing myself a couple of times…” Another sob escapes his mother. ”And now, for the first time I’m in love. I love him, mom, so much. I tried to forget about him and continue living a lie, but I just can’t do it. You saw me lying in this bed, depressed and sick to my stomach. You know I’ve been unhappy. I just… I choose to be me this time and I choose to be happy. And I’d rather do it with you than without you, but you give me no choice.”

”Who is he?” her question is quiet and lacks emotion.

”His name is Jose. You’ve met him. ‘Vanjie’, he was Rachel’s dance teacher and drove us to the hospital when Dan fell. That’s kind of how we met.”

She nods and doesn’t look surprised. ”You take care of yourself.” She looks at him and he can’t see any hate or disgust in her eyes. Brock wants to step forward and hug her goodbye, but she quickly turns around before he can do so and leaves the room. This stings a lot more than his father’s screamed insults.

He quickly finishes packing, then grabs the suitcase and a sports bag and leaves the way he has come.

Outside he takes a deep breath. He’s finally free.

When he walks through the barn, Henry shows up and greets him like he usually does. Brock scratches his head and wants to keep walking, but Henry jumps on him and clings to his leg.

”You wanna come?” he asks him and picks him up. Suddenly he knows he can’t leave him. ”Let’s hope Jose’s ok with you.”

With Henry on his arm he suddenly feels euphoric. He did it! He’s come out to his parents, no one got shot and now he gets to finally live his life without hiding who he is or who he loves.

Jose jumps out of the car as soon as he sees him, runs towards him and hugs him so tightly he nearly makes him tumble to the ground and squish the cat.

”I was so worried. There’s only eleven minutes left.”

”I’m ok,” he assures him and laughs. Nothing feels better than being in Jose’s arms again. Jose grabs the sports bag from him and puts it in the back seat while Brock puts the suitcase in the trunk.

”And who’s this?” Jose the asks when he spots Henry.

”That’s my kitten Henry.”

”Kitten? That’s one huge ass cat,” Jose laughs. ”He coming with us, Tiger King?”

”If you’ll have him.”

”We can’t leave your baby behind.” Jose shrugs and suddenly wrinkles his forehead. There’s a weird sound coming from behind Brock. It’s coming from the barn and is getting louder and louder. ”And what the fuck is this?” Jose points to the ground.

Brock laughs when he sees what he means. ”That’s Henry’s brother Apollo. He sounds like a broken lawn-mower when he tries to meow.”

”He ain’t no brother! They look nothing alike! You lying!”

”I’m not. Same litter, but he has a different father, obviously.”

”Oh, their mama’s one of those…” Jose nods knowingly and makes Brock chuckle again. ”What we gonna do with him? He looks pressed.”

”Apollo can’t be bothered by me or any other humans, but I guess he likes Henry.”

”That true? You hate us hoomans?” Jose crouches down and holds out his hand. To Brock’s biggest surprise the grey cat walks over to him and bumps his head against it and starts purring. ”Guess Thacks gonna have two new step brothers, ‘cause I got myself a mans,” Jose smirks up at him. The warmth that spreads from his heart through his whole body, reminds Brock again why he just did what he did. Jose’s certainly all worth it and so much more.

”What did I do to deserve you?” Brock speaks his thoughts out loud, and expresses the wonder that he feels.

”You cute, you been a good christian white boy all your life and you gonna fuck me real good when we get home, that’s what.” With a sassy smile Jose picks up Apollo and places him in the car, before he gets back into the driver’s seat. Brock can only laugh and follows him into the car.

***

By the time they’re back at Jose’s apartment, Brock’s euphoria is gone and reality has settled in. The short drive gave him time to think and once the stress is over, the sadness settles in. Brock kept petting Henry, who was sitting on his lap, while Apollo jumped all over the interior of the car during the short drive.

”Let’s go upstairs,” Jose nudges him gently when they have arrived and manages to catch Apollo, while Brock keeps Henry in his arms.

”Where we gonna put them?” he wonders, because he knows they can’t just let them run round in the same space as Thackery, or it’d end up in war.

”The bathroom for now. We gonna think of something later,” Jose decides. After the two cats are in there, Jose sits down on the sofa and opens his arms. ”And now come here, boo, so I can give ya a hug.” Brock is more than ready for that hug at this point and falls into his arms.

For a while they are both silent, even though Brock knows Jose wants to know what exactly happened. But he needs a moment to sort his thoughts and analyse his own emotions, as he goes over the talk with his parents again and again, different feelings bubbling up.

”My dad reacted like expected. But my mom, she, like, she let me go, didn’t even fight for me. I mean, she like came after me to my room and asked me to take it all back, but she wouldn’t accept me, now that I’m finally being myself. She’d rather have me be fucking unhappy and lying, than gay. How fucked up is that?”

”Real fucked up.” Jose is running his fingers through Brock’s hair and it’s the most relaxing thing ever. ”Did she like throw you out? Your dad did, right?”

”My dad did. She just said I should take care of myself. No goodbye, no ‘I love you’, nothing. Aren’t your parents supposed to love you unconditionally? What happened to that? But, like, they never did anyway, not even my mom. All this crap about family and how we all there for each other and have each others back and love… it’s all just bullshit.”

”Dunno if it helps, but I love you.” Jose sounds timid and it makes Brock look up at him.

”It does. It helps a lot. And I love you, too.” Jose smiles and pecks his lips, which instantly makes Brock feel a whole lot better. ”Is it always like this when you’re in a relationship? That you feel so much so quickly?” He snuggles even more up to Jose, not caring that he’s taler than him. He just needs to be held right now.

”I don’t think so. It ain’t ever been like this for me before. That how I know you special. I couldn’t forget ya.”

”I had like crushes before, but… when I saw you the first time, like… I had to pray extra hard that night.”

”What did you pray for?”

”Salvation? Forgiveness for my sins, because I thought about how beautiful you are and how cute and like…”

”And how hot and sexy and how you was ogling my gay ass and wanted a piece of it?” Jose’s teasing is not too far away from the truth.

”Pretty much,” Brock admits with an embarrassed chuckle.

”Haaa! Babe!” Jose screeches, laughs and hugs him so tightly Brock has trouble breathing.

”I wanted to jump your bones the first time I saw you. You was so fucking hot when you was sleeping in the studio. I kept staring at ya for like ten minutes before I woke you up.”

”You were ogling me?” Brock smiles.

”Hey, bitch, you were ogling me too. Don’t play!” They both have to laugh.

”I’m so glad you came back,” Brock admits after another minute of silence, during which Brock just listens to Jose’s breathing, his head against his chest.

”Me too.”

”And now you’re stuck with taking me back to L.A. with you, paying for everything until I find a job and on top you have two more cats to take care of.” It’s meant to be a flippant and funny comment, but once he speaks the words, Brock realises that he’s scared; Scared that Jose will realised some day soon what he got himself into and will throw him out as well. If his parents don’t want him around, then why should he?

”Now listen….” Jose actually grabs his curls to make him look at him, when Brock doesn’t react to the nudges he gives him before. Once Brock is looking at him, he continues. ”I told you I want you in L.A. with me. If living together gets too much, we can find another solution, but bitch, if you thinking you too much… ya better wait until you realise how crazy I can get. I want my man with me and I want a future. I don’t like playing around and wandering eyes and all that shit. I want to think about a future and long term and I want exclusive. If I hear ”open relationship” from one of these L.A. hos one more time, Imma lose my fucking mind. I’m jealous and all my exes say I’m clingy and I might get too extra sometimes. But… what I wanna say is, we both not perfect and it’s not gonna be all perfect and sexy all the time, but, like, I love you a whole lot and I wanna make this work.”

Brock kisses him softly before he replies. ”Same. And I don’t even know what an open relationship is, but… I’ve never been in any relationship, so…we’ll learn together?” He shrugs. ”And I think… if there’s some way, I really wanna study photography. And I need a job, because I can’t just sit around all day. I’ll do some research later.”

”See, you already making plans. And maybe, you know, you should look into a therapist while you at it. I’m crazy enough for the two of us.” Jose smiles again when Brock chuckles.

”You’re not that crazy.” Brock slowly sits up and adjusts his position, so he is resting against the back of the couch, when his neck starts to hurt. Not being close to Jose is unacceptable, so he pulls him against him this time.

”What else do you wanna do in the future?”

”Someday, I want to go on a vacation. And I want to go to the beach and see the sea. I’ve never been to a real beach.”

”Like never ever?”

”Never ever.”

”Our house is not that far from the beach in L.A., just a ten minute drive. We’ll go, first thing when we get there.”

”And I want to buy a real car, one that doesn’t break down all the time. And one day, I think I want to get married.”

”You wanna have kids too?”

”I’m not sure. Do I have to decide now?” Brock wonders.

”Nah, I’m not sure either. Just… it’s good to know you on the same page in general. Like, I wanna get married, too. And I want someone loyal and faithful and… I wanna be enough.”

”How could you not be enough?” Brock really doesn’t get it.

”Ask my ex. He’s the one who cheated all the time.”

”I’m sorry,” Brock feels bad for him, but he also can’t understand how anyone could cheat on Jose.

”Just… if you ever get sick of me… don’t cheat, k? Just talk to me.”

”Same. If you ever want me gone, talk to me.”

”Deal.” Jose puckers his lips and they kiss to seal the deal. ”How’bout we go back to bed and take a nap. This day’s already been a lot and some crazy motherfucker woke me up way too early and didn’t even let me go back to sleep after we done and did the dirty.” A wide yawn accompanies Jose’s words.

”Weren’t you the one who wanted the dirty? I just wanted to fix the AC.”

Jose snorts and slaps Brock’s shoulder before he sits up. ”Sure, asshole. That why you nearly fucked me again on the kitchen counter.” He holds out his hand to Brock. ”Come on. I need my beauty sleep, before I can come up with a plan for the cats and all the other crazy shit.”

They both just take their pants and shoes off, push Thackery aside and are asleep in no time, even though it’s not even noon yet.

***

Because of their long nap around noon, they are both still up around midnight. Brock knows it’s not that unusual for Jose, but for him it’s certainly past his usual bedtime. However he’s not even tired yet. They’ve done not much in the afternoon, just talked to Jason and had dinner together in the evening. Then Jose had made him watch another movie he insisted Brock absolutely needed to watch. He couldn’t even tell you what it was about, since they spent nearly the whole time making out like teenagers.

”It finally a bit cooler,” Jose remarks when he comes back from the bathroom, where he took care of the cats. Brock has opened the windows and enjoys the gentle breeze that comes in from outside.

”It’s nice outside.” He looks out the window and sees the fields around them illuminated by the moonlight.

”Mmh.” Jose wraps his arms around Brock’s waist from behind and leans his cheeks against his shoulder. ”In L.A. when it’s this nice out at night, I sometimes drive out to the beach and hang out with my friends.”

This gives Brock an idea. He lifts his arm and brings Jose around to his front. ”You up for going for a short drive? I think I know a place you might like.”

”Now?”

”Now.” Brock confirms and softly kisses his man. ”You got a blanket? I get the beer from the fridge.”

”Oooh, we going for a picnic?” Jose seems excited by the prospect and hurries off.

”One without food maybe,” Brock chuckles.

”I still got cold pizza in the fridge from yesterday. We could take it.”

”I hate cold pizza.” Brock actually shudders.

”You one weird motherfucker, boo.” Jose comes back with a woolen blanket and has changed from his sweats into shorts.

”Why did you change?”

”‘Cause we going out and not to the dance studio?”

”You know that everybody but us is asleep in this town?”

”So? You taking me out on our kinda first date and I gotta look good.”

The explanation is so much like Jose, that it makes Brock laugh. ”You always look good,” he kisses him again. ”But this is not a date. When we’re in L.A. and once I got some money, I’m going to take you out on a real date, I promise.”

Jose just smiles brightly and they leave. To his biggest surprise Jose just hands him the car keys, because he says it’s easier that way. He’s right of course, bur Brock is still a bit intimidated by the expensive car. It’s amazing to drive and Jose keeps watching him like one proud mother.

Brock pulls off the main road quickly and takes the small paths he’s known all his life. They are in the middle of endless corn fields, that are so high even the car can’t be seen from outside. When he reaches the clearing, he parks the car.

”Who that is?” Jose points to the oak tree, that is the reason why they are here.

”That’s a swing I put here for Rachel. The land belongs to my mom, but no one ever comes out here but me and so I made this Rachel’s secret hideaway. My dad’s always wanted to chop up the tree, but he never got to it,” Brock explains and gets out of he car. In the middle of the field is a small patch of grass and a huge oak tree that has a wooden swing hanging off one of the branches.

”You made that? How the fuck did you get up there?” Jose asks and walks closer to the swing.

”Just threw the ropes over the branch,” Brock shrugs.

”That safe?”

”I sometimes come here at night when I can’t sleep, just to sit on the swing and pretend I’m the only person in the world.” He pulls Jose close by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. ”I just thought, like, you’d like to see this place before we leave and like… I wanted you to see it.”

”You better stop with this romantic shit, asshole, or I’m gonna cry,” Jose hugs him around the middle and presses a kiss to his upper arm.

”You wanna try out the swing?”

”Kinky,” Jose winks at him, but then jumps on the swing. At first Brock pushes him, but then Jose is flying high and higher, his usual enthusiasm taking over. Brock keeps an eye on him as he spreads out the blanket and grabs the beer from the car. Jose whoops and laughs as he flies through the air and Brock snaps a couple of pictures of him with his phone. He’s lucky he’s just filming a video of him, when Jose lets go of the ropes and jumps off the swing.

”Jo!” Brock yelps, scared he might hurt himself, but Jose lands perfectly and smiles proudly.

”Calm down, mami. I’m a dancer, we do shit like that on the regular. You not going on the swing?” He walks over to where Brock is sitting and sits down next to him.

”Nah, not right now. I had fun watching you.” He hands him a beer.

”And you say this ain’t a date. Most romantic shit I’ve ever been on.” Jose comments and leans back on his elbows.

”I always thought dates involve going out for dinner or a movie or something.”

”A date can be whatever you want. And if you asking me, like, it don’t need to be some huge ass production, you know. Like presents don’t have to be expensive. I don’t need someone to spend a shitload of money on some shit I don’t need or want. But, you know, if people put some thought into it…. Other things are important.”

”Mmh… you might want to remember that when I make you something for each anniversary, Christmas and birthday, because I don’t have any money.” Brock smiles, meaning it as a joke, but Jose remains thoughtful.

”I take this here and having time with you over roses or some shit.” Jose takes another sip of beer, then places the bottle on the ground next to him. ”Time’s gonna be a problem. I have to travel a lot for work and then you’re gonna be on your own in L.A.” He rolls towards Brock, who pulls him the rest of the way on top of him.

”I’m gonna miss you then.” He says lightly and kisses him. It doesn’t take long until Jose deepens the kiss and Brock opens his legs, so he can lie between them. Surrounded by corn fields and with the moon shining above them, they soon lose their shirts and pants, but they don’t change their positions. There’s no one nearby to hear their moans as they move, and Brock is surprised by how much he likes Jose’s weight on top of him, as they rut and grind against each other. Sometimes Jose’s dicks slips down between his butt cheeks, bumps against his sphincter and makes him groan even louder. Gasping into Jose’s mouth, Brock comes all over his stomach and chest, when Jose brings his hand between them and wraps it around their dicks, as they keep moving.

”That why you really brought me here?” Jose asks him with a smirk, after he’s followed him over the edge a while later.

”Not really. Or I would have brought condoms and lube,” Brock laughs and gives him a kiss.

”True dat,” Jose nods and looks down between them. ”Your shirt or mine?” he asks then and wrinkles his nose, seeing the mess they made.

”Just use the edge of the blanket. We need to wash it anyway.” Jose does just that and wipes them both clean with it, before he resumes his position on top of Brock again. Brock runs his hands up and down his back and enjoys the feeling of his smooth, warm skin. ”Hey Jo?”

”Huh?”

Brock is nervous and wonders if he should really say something. This is all so new and he’s never been in a relationship, so he has no reference for what’s ok or not. But… it’s what he feels and Jose asked him to speak his mind a couple of times. And he’d rather do it here in the semi-dark than in bright daylight at some later point.

”You know the first time… you said that you wouldn’t mind if… like… I really like you on top of me like this and, like….” Brock rambles and tries to find the right way to say it. Jose stops him with a kiss.

”You wanna bottom sometime, that it?”

”I’ve never done it before.”

”We’ll try it and see if you like it, ok?”

”Does it hurt?”

”Not of you prepped right. Imma make sure you gonna be ok,” Jose vows and suddenly the nervousness is gone. ”We gonna start slow and take our time. Paris wasn’t built in a day.”

Brock guffaws, he can’t help it. He strongly suspects that Jose messes up on purpose to make him laugh, because he always has that little smile on his face when he botches another saying. It’s like it’s a challenge.

”Rome, you goof.”

”Bitch, what? You ain’t gonna tell me Paris was built in a day!” Now they’re both cackling.

***

”Brock! Your phone! It’s Ada,” Jose calls the next morning when he stumbles out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where Brock is sitting in front of his laptop with a cup of coffee.

”Thanks.” He quickly gives him a kiss good morning before he answers the call, as he watches Jose trudge into the bathroom. ”Hey Ada.”

”Hey, little brother. Mom stopped by this morning and told me you came out to them yesterday. Something you wanna tell me?” the tone of her voice makes it clear she knows the main things already anyway.

”Jose and I are together now.”

”Oh my god!” Ada’s loud and excited scream keeps Brock from continuing. ”Oh my god! I’m so happy for you! I knew it!”

”Speaking of which… Jose tells me you kind of talked him into coming back here. Anything you wanna add?”

”Uhm… not really. I don’t feel sorry, but I can say it if you wanna hear it,” she giggles.

”Nah… I guess I have to say thank you,” Brock chuckles.

”So, you’re happy?”

”Very.”

”Aww, my brother’s in love. Finally! How about the two of you come over for dinner today and tell me all about it and your coming-out and what you gonna do next?”

”Uhm… let me just check with Jose real quick.” Brock gets up and walks into the bathroom where the shower is running. ”Jo?”

”Yes, you can come in, but only if you wash my hair again.” He still sounds like he’s half asleep, which makes Brock laugh.

”I don’t wanna shower with you. Ada’s asking, if we wanna come over for dinner tonight.”

”Cool. What should we bring?”

”Jose asks if we should bring something.” Brock tells his sister.

”Just some wine of you want some, because I only have kid friendly drinks in the house.”

”Alright, then see you tonight,” Brock tells her.

”See you later. Enjoy your ‘shower’,” Ada laughs before she hangs up. For a second Brock stares disbelievingly at the phone.

”What, why you looking at the phone like that?” Jose’s head pops around the shower curtain.

”Ada just made a sexual reference or joke.” Brock tells him.

”Bitch, that lady has seven kids! Don’t tell me you think the stork brought them, or we having some serious issues here,” Jose rolls his eyes and disappears back behind the curtain. Brock just laughs, places his phone on the shelf and quickly steps out of his clothes.

”Give me that.” He gently takes the shampoo bottle from Jose when he sees into the shower, and starts washing his hair as requested. His boyfriend moans obscenely as he massages his skull.

”You gotta do that every day from now on.” His eyes are closed as he enjoys Brock’s touches.

”That what you had in mind when you talked about making me your sex slave?”

”When you suck my cock after this, we might be getting close,” the bratty answer comes, which makes Brock chuckle.

”My mom told Ada about me coming out to them. So I guess Dan knows too at this point.”

”How do you think he’ll react?”

”I don’t know. Honesty, I don’t think Dan on his own would care too much, but my sister in law will surely have something to say about it.”

”She one of those stuck up bit…women?”

”You can say it, she really is a bitch. Always has been,” Brock laughs.

”My mama’ gonna whoop your ass, if you ever talk about a women like that when she’s present.”

”Speaking of which… does your family know anything about this?” He grabs the shower head and rinses Jose’s hair out.

”Who do you think let me cry in her arms when I got back? And I told her I was coming back here and I might have texted her last night, when we was driving to the swing and let her know I got myself a man.” He smiles proudly.

”And what does she think about this? Me?” Now Brock is scared, because he knows how much his mother means to Jose. If she doesn’t like him or what she knows about him, it might be a deal breaker.

”She’s happy I’m happy and she wants to meet you soon. I think she’ll just show up as soon as we tell her we back in L.A.”

”She doesn’t have a problem with you bringing back a poor hillbilly?”

”My ma?” Jose guffaws. ”I showed her your picture and she only asked if you got a single older brother, ‘cause you hot as fuck.”

”Come on! No way your mother said that! ‘Hot as fuck’, no way!” Brock laughs.

”You better believe it, child, or you in for a shock when you meet my ma. She even crazier than I am. A warning: Don’t ever drink with her, ‘cause she’ll win and you’ll be dead the next day.”

”She sounds nothing like my mother.” Brock tries to picture her, but he can’t. Jose’s description sounds like no mother he’s ever met around here.

”Nope. Think J.Lo really being from the block.”

”Who’s J.Lo?”

Jose’s loud groan echoes through the bathroom. ”We got so much work to do, so much motherfucking work.” Then his kisses Brock and ends the discussion for the next two hours, because they have better things to do.

***

Ada is so excited she’s basically dancing through the house when they get there. Rachel, Jonathan and Ruthie are still up as well, while the other four are already in bed. To Brock’s surprise Joe, Ada’s husband, is also home and he greets him like always, with a pat on the back and not many words. He’s nice to Jose though, offers him something to drink and tries to stop Ruthie from climbing all over him. Ada hugs Brock tightly and he thinks she might even be crying a little.

”I’m just so glad and happy,” she says when he looks at her questioningly. ”Rachel, Jonathan can you go and wash your hands? Joe can you take Ruthie to bed? She said she’d go once she saw Vanjie.”

”Sure,” Joe agrees and plucks Ruthie off Jose’s back, not that he seems to mind her climbing all over him while he chats with Rachel.

”Rachel showed her videos of you and pictures and now she says she’s your biggest fan,” Ada explains to Jose, when he joins them in the kitchen.

”That’s real cute. Imma send her one of my shirts when we back home in LaLaland.”

”We? You’re really going to L.A. with him?” Ada asks Brock.

”Yes,” he nods and smiles at Jose, who wraps an arm around his waist. ”I’m going back to school for photography. We already signed me up for classes this afternoon and I can start right away. We also found me a therapist and I’ll start that two weeks from now. All I got to do now is find a job,” Brock tells his sister. He is so excited that they managed to get all that done in just one afternoon, but with Jose’s help it wasn’t a problem at all. He’s seen on google maps where he’s going to live and they found a school that’s in the area and both affordable and offers a good program. Jose took care of the therapist by asking around with his friends… it all just fell into place.

”That can wait. You gonna be busy with school and therapy and the house and three kitty cats. You know I won’t be around much for the first month or so.” Jose reminds him. It’s a bit nerve wrecking to think about being alone in a big city and find his way, but he knows he’ll manage and it’s not like Jose won’t be home at all. He just has a lot of rehearsals for a video shoot.

”You gonna move to L.A.?” Rachel’s voice comes from behind and she sounds less than happy.

”Yes, I’m going to L.A.” Brock confirms and both he and Jose turn around, their arms still wrapped around each other.

”But what about me? You can’t leave!” Rachel bursts into tears.

”Oh, honey,” Brock rushes over to her and picks her up. He knows she’s too old for that with her nearly eleven years, but at the moment it feels right and he has to console her.

”Why you leaving me?” She sobs. ”You’re my best friend.”

”And I’ll always be your best friend, Rache’.” He tries to wipe her tears away but they keep falling. Jose comes up behind them and rubs her back.

”You can always come and visit us. There’s a guest room that’s gonna be yours whenever you want it,” Jose vows.

”You gonna live together?” Rachel’s eyes widen.

”Yes. You know that I’m gay, right? You know I like men?” Brock asks her and sits down on the sofa in the living room with her, Jose sitting down on the other side of her.

”Momma told me.”

”I think you kind of knew before, didn’t you?” Brock smiles.

”Kinda,” she confirms, smiles and sniffs one last time before she wipes her own tears away.

”And I love Jose a lot and we want to be together, but we can’t do that here. Jose has no work here and grandma and grandpa don’t want me living at their house anymore. That’s why I’m going to Los Angeles with Jose.”

”You not gonna be happy here without him and no work and no house.” Rachel nods her head.

”Yeah.”

”You gonna be nice to him, right? He’s my best friend! Or I’ll kick your ass!” She suddenly warns Jose. He’s the one who screeches and screams with laughter, while Brock’s mouth just hangs open.

”Rachel! That’s one dollar for the swearing jar,” Ada speaks up, even though she’s looking really amused as well.

Jose takes a ten dollar bill out of his jeans pocket and hands it to the girl. ”Here. The rest’s bribe money,” he tells her.

”Accepted,” she smirks and wanders off to pay her bill.

”You go and spoil her like that, Jose, and I’ll send her your way to set her straight when she enters the teen years.” Ada warns him and starts putting food on the table.

”She cute, clever and sassy. I like her.”

”Sounds like someone else I know,” Brock points out. First a large smile blossoms on Jose’s face, before he pulls him close for another kiss.

”Seeing you together, it might really be better you’re moving to the big city. You can’t keep your hands off each other,” Ada laughs and makes Brock blush.

”Hey, don’t play shy now! You the one who won’t give my hand back,” Jose teases and looks pointedly to their linked fingers. ”Miss Ada, watch him later. As soon as I’m gonna be done eating, he be holding my hand again, or touching my shoulder. He always been this touchy feely?” Jose gives his hand a squeeze that Ada can’t see.

”My brother was very tactile and affectionate as a child but then it stopped. Seems you bring it back out of him.”

”Can you two stop talking about me? I’m sitting right here.” Brock finally complaints when his ears are so hot and red he fears they might falls off soon.

Ada laughs. ”So when are you two going to L.A.?”

”I have to be back on Thursday for rehearsal and we thought some days to show Brock around town might be nice.” Jose starts the explanation.

”Monday,” Brock finally tells his sister.

”So soon? That’s just two days from now.”

”I know.” Brock takes a deep breath to stop himself from bursting into tears. He’s going to miss his sister so much. ”We thought we could maybe do something tomorrow, because we know you all got church on Sunday.”

”Sounds good. Joe has to leave tomorrow morning, but we can come up with something.”

”We could all go swimming,” Rachel suggests as she walks back into the room with her father.

”That sounds great, Miss Rachel,” Jose nods. ”And this looks amazing.” He compliments the food.

”Then let’s eat,” Ada says, and that’s what they do.

It turns out Jose is wrong about the touching. He’s barely finished his salad when he feels Brock’s free hand on his thigh. Only Ada’s pointed look makes Brock realise what he’s doing, but he just shrugs, smiles and places a kiss on Jose’s cheek that makes Jonathan gag, Rachel squeal and Ada sigh happily.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #smut #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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sethtrout · 5 years ago

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Honeymoon

The honeymoon phase has been real. My fellow Peace Corps volunteers, all stripes of goofy, brilliant, and talented, have me belly laughing and feeling far from alone. Moments include wild freestyle musical sessions, exhausted silent walks, and expressions of hopes and fear. We are connected as we come to terms with the vivid changes the next 27 months will bring.

The exhausting pace of Pre Service Training – 10 hours a day, 6 days a week – has caught up to most of us. One minute, it’s Nepali language past tense conjugation, then a session on preventing diarrhea, then a talk with a US Ambassador, and then training on agriculture conditions in Nepal. It’s been dizzying. My brain feels like a soaked sponge. I’m struggling to let things out and in, so all I can do is play a little guitar, sleep, and digest, digest, digest.

Speaking of letting things out and in, digestion, etc… I’m on my fourth day of powerful diarrhea (prevention was futile). I feel pooped. So as I sit here with my stomach stirring, I want to share thoughts from a brain that’s at long last had a chance to digest three weeks of madness.

Every morning around 6:30 AM, I race through a foggy potato valley on wire-thin trails, climb a terrace loaded with mustard and wild radish, and center myself on four hours of language. Decades of beatboxing in the shower has set me up well to speak in tune with Nepal’s 33 consonants and 11 vowels. I say ‘farting’ instead of ‘reading’ (paDnus vs paadnus), and I think I’ve worn everyone out with 127 daily thank you’s, but I have confidence in this linguistic marathon even if sometimes I’m sprinting up a steep hill.

I’ve felt like a toddler here. I’ve had to re-learn everything from eating to using the bathroom to communicating basic thoughts and needs. When tempted with a spoon or toilet paper or English, I quickly realize how little I actually miss these “comforts.” Eating with my hand is freaking amazing. Using the bathroom here feels infinitely more sanitary and focused. I’ve realized that the complexity of my English vernacular sends me spiraling, often distracting me from my simple truths.

I rely on didi (big sister) for most things, especially language practice. She returns from long workdays and enthusiastically chooses to sit with me, patiently working me through Nepali language. I rely on bowju (sister-in-law) to teach me how to farm the Nepali way. The other day, we clawed through a steaming heap of gobar (cow-dung compost), carried it on our backs, and used it to prep our soil. An audience of small girls laughed when they saw me, an American man, proudly look over our little field only to realize I had cow dung on my face. Meanwhile – my sister in law – dressed like a queen in all red, emerged without a speck of dirt anywhere. It felt like a powerful moment for these girls to observe: a young mother, farmer, friend teaches weird American guy how to tend soil.

This shattering of independence somehow has me feeling right at home with my Nepali family. So much feels familiar. My brother has legendary 16-year-old-boy swagger. He gets yelled at about doing his homework and runs around town with his friends. My five year old brother dances and screams and tackles everything. My aamaa (mom) has deep smile wrinkles that remind me of my mom. I even have two friendly swallows living outside of my door, prepping their nest and making bird love in the mornings. There are things I can’t quite understand, like 98% of what is said to me, the burning of trash, who is family and who is just neighbor, and why we eat 200 carbs-worth of bhaat (white rice) every meal, but it’s been an absolute blast so far. I keep telling myself to relax, but everyone around me makes it easy.

It’s funny how most of my big fears about service have been silenced since arrival. I still ask myself if I will make a sustainable impact in anyone’s life, cultivate any meaningful relationships, or learn to love the tedium of my permanent site. But right now every challenge is bite-sized: make it to bathroom, learn how to discuss favorite fruits, stay hydrated, understand why we are here and what Nepal wants us to accomplish.

So much love is flowing down the mountains and across the world. It’s remarkable how much people have invested in me both now and for my entire life. I feel like a taker, but I promise to use this extraordinary privilege as a force for good, or at least to try my best. You can find my address in the “FAQ” section. Send me a letter, or even an email (wifi and data are pretty reliable during this training period). I’ll post photos soon. Until next time,

dhanyabad sathiharu.

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yeehawsimulator · 6 years ago

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A Long Lost Love

Arthur Morgan x Female reader (1/?)

The start of my red dead 2 ‘fix-it’!

You and Arthur meet back up again after a failed relationship you had nine years ago, and decide to join the van der Linde gang again.

This is an edited version of my Arthur x OC version I’ve been posting on AO3

No warnings for this chapter

Requests are always welcome~

•

“Always yours, Y/N” You finished, lifting your pen from the paper as you took in a deep breath, staring at the words under the candle flame besides you.

You placed your hands on the wooden desk to stand up, folding the letter in half and putting it in your satchel. You exit the farmhouse you had lived in after getting seperated from Dutch’s gang 9 years ago, Arthur forcing you to stay behind when they went on what he assumed to be a suicide mission. You had always thought him and the rest of Dutch’s gang to be dead after that day, but hearing a few girls in the saloon talking about them a few days back, made you realise you had been living a lie these past nine years. You had to bring up the courage to actually write the letter you were now on your way to delivering to the post office, climbing on your horse; Florence to ride there. Your shaking hands handed over the letter to the courier, knowing damn well to not expect a reply but you would sure as hell give it a shot.

“I’ll try to get it there as soon as possible ma’am” “Thanks mister” You told the man with a short nod before walking out the post office.

Living on a farm as if you had a normal life just wasn’t your way of doing things, you had proved that in your time spent with Dutch. Valentine wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exciting town to live in either, the only rare event being an escaped cow at most.

You looked up at the moon that had illuminated the muddy streets below your horse, riding back to the farmhouse you had inherited from your parents.

You woke up early the next morning, tending to the other horses and sheep you kept at the farm. It was enough to make a small living and have decent food on the table, nothing exciting but at least you were still alive.

After finishing brushing your last horse you went back inside, the sun already starting to set again. You made yourself a cup of coffee and grabbed a book from the shelf, sitting down at the dining table to spent your night calmly reading, until a knock on the door interrupted your plans.

You looked at the pistol laying on the counter next to the door, always having to make sure it was there before opening it. You straightened out your long skirt and rolled up the sleeves of your blouse before walking to the door, opening it slightly to see who was dumb enough to knock at your door.

“I-I’m sorry it’s this late, but I ah.. I had to see you as soon as I received this letter” Arthur spoke as he stared at his feet. You quickly opened the door completely as you still had your pistol clutched in your right hand.

“I quite frankly didn’t expect you to actually show” You replied as you had the gun pointed at him, Arthur quickly backing up against the railing on the porch once he noticed the gun in your hand. You fired at the bottle sitting on a fence behind him, huffing at the man in front of you.

“You’d truly think I’d ask ya to come over only to shoot you?” “You’re still as good of a shot as I remember” Arthur spoke with a soft laugh as he lowered his hands again.

You sighed deeply as you looked up into his eyes, he had clearly gotten older, but still looked so much the same as when you were still together.

“Y/N, I- I don’t know where to start”

Arthur took off his hat and placed it on the railing, lowering his arms besides him as a sad expression formed on his face.

“That’s the only thing you have to say after abandoning me for nine years?” “I never abandoned you-!”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve already heard it, you were trying to protect me and all that bullcrap. Why didn’t you ever bother to search for me Arthur? I told you about this farm and I.. God, I never stopped waiting for you”

“I didn’t want you to get yourself killed over us fools, and back then you would do it in a heartbeat. I’d rather not have you but know you’re safe than having to bury you for being too brave again”

You felt your eyes burning as your fingernails dug deeper into the skin of your palm, shaking your head which made the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I didn’t ask you to come over here only for you to be making excuses Arthur” “I know Y/N, I goddamn know and had to live with it the past years” “So did I” You replied, making Arthur furrow his brows as he averted his gaze to the wooden planks of your porch.

“I just don’t know how to make it right goddammit. You know that if I could I would’ve ran away with you back then, god I still think about it time to time” “I never expected you to betray Dutch like that Arthur, I still don’t. But can’t you realize you made me do exactly that? I was as much of a member of the camp as you were. And I was young and dumb enough to blindly follow everything you told me to do like a fuckin’ lap dog”

“I’m coming with you, let me pack my bags” “Y/N-“ “Don’t even think about trying to stop me, it’s a wasted effort. Come in, it’s cold out” You stoically told him, a deep breath escaping Arthur as he followed you inside.

“I’ve been living in hell the past nine years, I’d rather die being with all of you tomorrow than live another 30 years on this goddamned farm Arthur” You spoke as you packed your guns and a few spare clothes, entering your bedroom to change into a pair of pants.

“There isn’t anything that I can do to stop you is there?” Arthur sighed as you entered the main room of the farmhouse again, a packed bag slung around your shoulder. You shook your head and walked past him to grab the keys from the wall, motioning your head for Arthur to walk out the front door, following behind him and locking it behind you.

“Can we head through town first? I want to give the keys to a good friend of mine” “‘Course, lead the way”

Arthur retrieved his hat and followed you to your horse, taking the bag from your hands so you could mount on easily. He secured it on the back of your saddle before walking over to his own, “Come on boy” He muttered, patting the horse before following you into town.

He looked at you entering the saloon, moving his horse forwards a bit to see you hugging what he assumed to be your friend, handing over the keys afterwards.

Arthur sighed as he ran his fingers over the scarred knuckles of his other hand, his mind racing wildly about seeing the love of his life again, the same woman he tried to forget about all these years, and there you were back in his life again in the matter of a day.

“Done, she deserves it more than any other person I know of” You spoke as you mounted your horse again, Arthur laughing at himself before riding up next to your.

“What?” “Nothing, just- just you” Arthur chuckled as he shook his head, signing for you to follow him. “Is the camp far away from here?” “What did Hosea call it again.. Horseshoe something”

“Horseshoe overlook? You guys are that close to town? Bold move of Dutch” “You said it”

You ran your fingers through Florence’s mane, making Arthur smile at you, you always cared for the horses when you all were done riding for the day. “Never lost your love for horses hm?” “Never will either, they’re such beautiful creatures”

Arthur told you you’d take the next left, riding up a muddy path in the forest before the tents came into your view. You slowed Florence down before coming to a complete halt, seeing that Dutch and Hosea had been expecting you. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to stop her!” Dutch’s amused voice sounded, Arthur grabbing your bag off your horse, wanting to help you off next but you were already running over to Dutch to hug him tightly.

“I’m so sorry I left” “Arthur didn’t give you a choice, it’s so good to see you” Dutch told you. Hosea pressed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, the look on Hosea’s face already saying more than any words could.

“I’m glad to finally be back, and to see you as well Hosea” You continued with a broad smile plastered on your face, Hosea taking you into a tight hug. “You’ve grown quite a bit since we’ve last seen you” “Ain’t even been here for a minute and I’m already being insulted-“

“Y/N?!” Another familiar voice sounded, turning you head to see John walking over to you, taking you into a tight hug as well. “Hey there greasy cowboy”

“God it finally feels as if we’re complete again” Dutch spoke, his hand firm on your shoulder. “I’ll take your bag to my lodging, I can set up a bed for you there if that’s okay” Arthur softly spoke, you nodding your head in response. “Thanks”

“Everyone! We’re having a party tonight! There’s someone you all have to meet” Dutch yelled, a few heads popping out of tents since it was already dark out.

Dutch introduced you to the other gang members, as they sat by the campfire. Your gaze had wandered off to Arthur sitting alone on his bed, scribbling away in a notebook he apparently was still holding onto after all these years.

“She was the craziest out of all of us back then! Popped the poor man’s head off as if it was a melon” John spoke with a loud laugh, You shaking your head in embarrassment. “You’re giving me quite a reputation to uphold Marston” “I have no doubt you will”

“I think we should call it a night folks” “Thanks for being so welcoming, I promise I’ll make it worth something” You told the group, wishing everyone a goodnight.

“You’re not one to miss a good night of drinks”

Arthur huffed as he looked up at you, closing his notebook and laying it on a cupboard next to his bed. “I needed to clear my head, you have no idea what you do to me woman” He sighed as he let his the back of his head rest against the wagon of his lodging, as you sat down on the bed he had set up for you.

You took the hand he had resting on his knee into your own, staring at his scarred fingers, which made Arthur flinch slightly. He wanted nothing more than to hold you against him and tell you he’d never leave you again, but he would never even think about actually doing so.

“We should sleep, I’ll show you and the boys around Valentine tomorrow, heard there’s some good bounties at the sheriff's” You spoke as you took your hand off his, laying down on the unsturdy bed, your eyes focused on the night sky. It made you feel weirdly comfortable, sleeping out in the wilderness again like this.

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mountainashfae · 6 years ago

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Rowan for the uncommon asks meme: 26-36

HECK YEAH Going Rowan Thornbrook because he’s my BOY

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Rowan, resident shapeshifter, has found the joy of being able to turn into a bird and fly. It’s a lot faster than walking or horseback, and also better than on a boat because he’s not worried about the water (he can’t swim).

27. What causes them to feel dread?

There are two main things that do it to him: sudden expectations from others that he’s supposed to meet (ex. any time his uncle mentions how he’s a prince and should act it), or when he’s having to talk about what happened to his family or something is going on that relates to those events.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

I don’t think Rowan could tell a lie to save himself. But if it came what he’d prefer to hear, it’d be an unpleasant truth. He’d rather hear it from the start than find out later.

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

He doesn’t have high expectations or ideals for himself to live up to, he’s too worried that he’d somehow fall short. So the ones that he does have, he lives up to and surpasses them, whether he realizes it or not. He’s just a small, farm town boy after all.

30. Who do they most regret meeting?

Most significant people in his life, he doesn’t regret meeting.

However, there is one certain merchant that he wishes he hadn’t met. He didn’t catch the merchant’s name, but he will never forget the harsh words that were said about his parents and the broken nose that he earned that day. Also I absolutely have that written in fic, though I wouldn’t call it my proudest work.

He’d be happy if he never had to see that man again. am i that nice? probably not

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

It’s between his adoptive sibling, Nazha Piscar, or his (future) boyfriend, Solomon Witherspoon. Aelin doesn’t count in this since that’s his sister.

Nazha went from an acquaintance that he thought he was just traveling with for a few weeks to family, and the two of them are baffled but thankful to Hedrig for flagging Rowan down that day in what was the least trustworthy circumstances possible.

Rowan and Solomon were only introduced by Rowan losing a bet during a festival, but the two kept in touch and before Rowan realized it he was crushing hard. Also I’ve been shipping these two for over a year but nothing has been written yet of them getting together, only Rowan before/during his pining period and then time skips to when they’re dating or married. Talk about a slow burn.

And what I love about Nazh and Sol is that they’re the only two characters in the Wyvern’s Call setting that weren’t created by me, but rather two of my closest friends who gave me permission to use them.

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Well if he’s comfortable enough in a conversation to jump to such a story, Rowan’s most likely to bring up some of his stories from Pinegrove. Such as that time he, Adrian, and Shelley ran off to play in the forest to avoid chores and got lost. Or that time a fox followed Rowan around for a whole week and how he convince his uncle to let the fox come inside. He likes to bring up how he can bake sometimes, but usually it’s someone else who points out that he won the baking contest 5 years in a row.

Actually don’t be in a conversation with all three of them at the same time when they’re bringing up stories from when they were kids because it will devolve into “who can remember the most embarrassing story about the others”

But yeah he likes to talk about home.

33. Could they be considered lazy?

Rowan? Lazy? Anybody who knew him would laugh. If he wasn’t running around doing something outside, he’d be working something with his hands inside. He’s not comfortable unless he’s doing something, even something small.

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

oh it’s almost impossible. Sometimes he has survivor’s guilt from something that happened when he was 7. He’s a born protector, so if something goes wrong that he thinks he should’ve been able to stop, it’ll be hard to shake.

35. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Rowan is super supportive! He loves hearing his friends go on about things that they love, even if he doesn’t have much to comment while listening. He just loves seeing his friends happy so he’ll gladly sit and listen as long as they want to talk.

36. Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

Rowan probably couldn’t actively seek a romance to save his life. Not on his own at least.

There’s a reason why every instance of him confessing his crush to Solomon has been due to some sort of outside factor pushing/encouraging him to do it.

[ Uncommon Questions for OCs and their Creators]

#ask meme #Wyvern's Call #THANK YOU ZEE

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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Despair for Many and Silver Linings for Some in California Wildfires https://nyti.ms/2PrHL7U

Despair for Many and Silver Linings for Some in California Wildfires

(PURE, UNADULTERATED GREED by Corporations like PG&E to Boeing, to fill the pockets of shareholders and company CEOs, are DEVASTATING American citizens.)

Natural disasters are another prism through which California’s vast income inequalities can be viewed.

By Thomas Fuller, Julie Turkewitz and Jose A. Del Real | Published October 29, 2019 Updated, October 30, 2019, 9:27 AM ET | New York Times | Posted October 30, 2019 |

SANTA ROSA, Calif. — After a wildfire razed his spacious suburban home in the Sonoma hills two years ago, Pete Parkinson set out to rebuild. This time it would be an even better one. He reoriented the house toward vistas of a nearby mountain and designed a large kitchen with hickory floors and 16-foot windows under vaulted ceilings.

“We are now living the silver lining,” said Mr. Parkinson, a retired civil servant who moved into his new home 10 days ago. “It is a beautiful, brand-new home.”

California’s catastrophic wildfires have not discriminated between rich and poor. In recent years tens of thousands of people lost their homes, from trailer parks to mansions. But the aftermath of the fires has produced a spectrum of misery and recovery, ranging from the wealthy, who with insurance money rebuilt houses sometimes worth more than the ones that burned, to those who lost everything and years later still have nothing.

Like access to quality education and clean water, natural disasters are another prism through which California’s vast income inequalities can be viewed.

CALIFORNIA FIRES

Read our live updates about the Kincade and Getty blazes.

A lawyerly knowledge of the peculiarities of the insurance industry, a pool of savings to fall back on and the time and grit to deal with the state’s labyrinthine regulations have helped some in California bounce back from the infernos. Others have not been so lucky.

Jenn Wilcox worked at a residential care facility in the town of Paradise until Nov. 8, when the town was incinerated by fire last year. After she narrowly escaped, the uninsured cabin where she was living was destroyed; she also lost her job. Her life upside down, she split up with her boyfriend and returned to her home state of Georgia, where she is struggling to make ends meet as a home health aide.

“I’m a refugee,” Ms. Wilcox said. “I’m broke.”

On Tuesday, firefighters in Northern California braced for the return of strong winds, hoping to avoid the further spread of the Kincade fire, which has burned 75,000 acres in Sonoma County and was 15 percent contained. In Southern California, the Getty fire still burned while residents braced for extreme winds expected to reach 80 miles per hour. Thousands of structures are threatened.

Karen Orlando, a real estate agent in the Sonoma Valley, has seen the rebuilding process in Sonoma County play out in distinct ways between “the really wealthy and then those who are just getting by.”

Ms. Orlando said that for those with insurance and the means, rebuilding has been a kind of therapy after the trauma of losing a home; reclaiming those spaces is a way to soldier through grief, she said.

“Some people have decided to buy a lot maybe with a better view than what they had,” she said. “Some people want to rebuild on the lot but now they get the chance to build the home of their dreams. They get to pick out all the finishes and fixtures and imagine all the landscaping.”

After the Wine Country fires in 2017 destroyed their hillside home with a priceless mountain view, Joan and Nick Flint received $1 million for the rebuild, not enough to match what they once had. They ended up paying another $1 million out of pocket.

Standing outside their new home on Tuesday — white brick with an Escalade in the garage — Ms. Flint said she realized how lucky they were that they could afford to do that.

“We’re not a hard-luck story by any means,” she said. “We feel blessed.”

Fires this week in Southern California forced evacuations of celebrities like LeBron James and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Mr. James tweeted that he was driving around trying to find a hotel room after he fled his home. (His home did not burn, nor did Mr. Schwarzenegger’s.)

Less visible has been the fate of those hard hit in towns like Paradise in the Sierra foothills, razed by fire last year, and Lake County, where around 2,000 homes have burned over the past four years. In both places incomes were strained even before the fires.

Jim Steele, a former supervisor in Lake County, estimated that about 60 percent of residents in the county lacked insurance or were severely underinsured. Insurers are raising rates in areas vulnerable to fire and in some cases have declined to write policies.

“There’s a lot of risk and a lot of poverty,” he said. Many people were forced to move away after their homes burned down, especially older people who retired in picturesque but fire-prone hills surrounding Clear Lake.

“It has a lot to do with your age and where you are in your career,” Mr. Steele said. “Retired people have trouble — they just don’t have the resilience.”

A report published by the federal government two years ago said people with lower incomes were less prepared for natural disasters and were more likely to live in homes vulnerable to them. Low-income Americans are also more likely to become homeless after a disaster and have more difficulty obtaining loans after one, the report said.

Another study released by the Federal Reserve Banks of San Francisco, New York, Dallas and Richmond focused on small businesses affected by natural disasters. Insurance coverage for those businesses “appeared to be mismatched to the actual damage that occurred,” the report said.

Often disasters trigger a cascade of woes. For Gina Wheeler, whose grandparents moved her family to the Sierra Nevada from the Bay Area in the 1960s, the Paradise fire sent her into depression and financial peril. Ms. Wheeler, 44, was hospitalized for intestinal surgery in the days before the disaster. Then she lost her uninsured trailer that she rented on family land in the fire.

“Every place I’ve ever set foot in has been touched by fire,” Ms. Wheeler said. “I don’t think anybody that’s not gone through this will ever, ever understand what it’s like to lose your entire community.”

This fall, Ms. Wheeler moved into a trailer in a camp for fire survivors in the remote farm town of Gridley, where she must stretch a fixed income of $850 a month to rebuild her life. She struggles to pay for food and gas, sometimes turning to Facebook groups for help.

“I can’t even describe the empty feeling that we have,” Ms. Wheeler said. “I talk friends and family members out of suicide, and they talk me out of it.”

Mr. Parkinson, the resident of the Sonoma hills, says about 40 percent of his neighbors have not started to rebuild their homes, many of them because they cannot afford to. Although his new house is more hardened to fire, the area remains vulnerable, a dozen or so miles away from where the Kincade fire is burning.

Mr. Parkinson counts himself lucky not only because he was able to construct a 2,200-square-foot dream home but because he had the mental fortitude to deal with the disappearance of all but a handful of his possessions. When he fled his home with his wife and son in 2017 he carried only electronics, two guitars, photo albums and some clothing

“There was something about walking up to the pile of ashes that my house was reduced to and understanding the absolute finality of it,” he said.

His insurance money was insufficient to completely furnish the house so he went to Ikea with a pickup truck and held a furniture-assembly party with friends.

“I don’t have a lifetime’s worth of stuff anymore,” he said. “Everything is two years old and less.”

Thomas Fuller and Julie Turkewitz reported from Santa Rosa, Calif., and Jose A. Del Real from San Francisco. Lauren Hepler contributed reporting from Paradise, Calif. Alain Delaquérière contributed research.

*********

California Fires Live Updates: New Blaze Threatens Reagan Library

Dangerous Santa Ana winds were whipping Southern California as a new wildfire broke out near the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum.

By The New York Times | Published October 30, 2019 | New York Times |

Posted October 30, 2019 |

RIGHT NOW

A new fire that broke out in Ventura County prompts evacuation orders for an area that includes the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum.

Here’s what you need to know:

Strong winds could drive ‘extreme fire behavior’ in Southern California.

A fire threatening the Reagan Library has forced evacuations in Ventura County.

Electricity has been shut off for more than a million people.

Maps show where the fires are burning now.

As fires rage, schools cancel classes and events.

The Getty fire was caused by an ‘act of God.’

Strong winds could drive ‘extreme fire behavior’ in Southern California.

California was facing the worst kind of weather for wildfires on Wednesday — strong, gusty winds and very low humidity. Officials feared that the gusts could blow embers more than a mile away, complicating their efforts to contain new or existing fires.

In the southern part of the state, where gusts were expected to peak on Wednesday morning, a new brush fire broke out in Ventura County, threatening the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum and forcing evacuations.

And in the Los Angeles area, a 745-acre blaze known as the Getty fire has prompted the evacuation of more than 7,000 homes. Firefighters made progress overnight on the fire, which was 27 percent contained on Wednesday morning.

In Northern California, firefighters made inroads overnight in battling the Kincade fire, which has consumed much of the area around Santa Rosa over the last few days as it swelled to become the largest active wildfire in the state. The 76,000-acre fire is now 30 percent contained, up from 15 percent on Tuesday, and forecasters were cautiously optimistic that the winds in the area had died down and would not strengthen again for at least a few days.

At a morning briefing at the Sonoma County fairgrounds, where hundreds of firefighters packed into an event hall, officials thanked the crews for their work. “Really good progress,” said Charlie Blankenheim, a division chief working with Cal Fire, the state firefighting agency.

Danger remains, however. Many houses tucked into the woods are still at risk, and saving those will be a priority over the next few days, officials said. Already, the fire has destroyed 206 structures, including 94 homes.

A fire threatening the Reagan Library has forced evacuations in Ventura County.

The fast-moving fire near the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum in Ventura County forced evacuations early on Wednesday.

The fast-moving blaze known as the Easy fire quickly grew to more than 400 acres and led local officials to order an evacuation for parts of Simi Valley and Moorpark, two cities in the southern part of the county. Eric Tennessen, chief of the Ventura County Sheriff’s office, said deputies were knocking on doors and escorting people to safety. The evacuation area consists of ranches, farms and a golf course and is not densely populated, Chief Tennessen said.

Video from local news outlets showed smoke billowing from several distinct parts of the fire along hilltops as the sun rose, with the flames fanned by the wind. The fire approached the presidential library, which houses memorabilia including a former Air Force One plane inside, but was kept at bay by firefighters as of about 9 a.m.

Electricity has been shut off for more than a million people.

Santa Ana wind gusts topped 70 m.p.h. in elevated areas near Los Angeles, close to matching the speeds of a Category 1 hurricane, which has sustained winds of at least 74 m.p.h.

“When you have a fire form in these conditions, it can spread very quickly,” said Lisa Phillips, a meteorologist at the National Weather Service’s Los Angeles office. The combination of dry and windy weather, perfect for fires to ignite and grow, led the weather agency to issue an “extreme red flag warning” for much of Los Angeles and Ventura counties.

NWS Los Angeles

✔@NWSLosAngeles

Latest observation from Warm Springs at 12:53AM in the hills above Santa Clarita: ENE 38 mph Gusting 55 mph. Relative Humidity was down to 14% Expect Santa Ana winds to strengthen and become more widespread through this morning and continue through Thursday. #cawx #LAweather

4:10 AM - Oct 30, 2019

The threat posed by the winds has led the utility Pacific Gas and Electric to cut off power to about 1.5 million people in some 30 counties in Northern California in recent days, with about 1 million still without electricity since the weekend.

In the south, San Diego Gas & Electric and Southern California Edison reported preventively shutting off power on Wednesday to a total of about 200,000 people.

A new state web portal includes links to updates on fire status, evacuation zones, power outages, shelters and housing, road conditions and other information related to the fires, compiled by state agencies like Cal Fire and Caltrans and by utility companies.

Maps show where the fires are burning now.

(We’re continuing to update our page of maps showing the extent of the fires, power outages and evacuation zones.)

Maps: Kincade and Getty Fires, Evacuation Zones and Power Outages(SEE WEBSITE FOR EVACUATION ZONES)

Detailed maps show the current fire extents, power outage zones and areas under evacuation orders.

As fires rage, schools cancel classes and events.

With many school districts closed in Sonoma County and surrounding counties, parents have been left trying to entertain their children amid power outages and evacuations.

Parker Palizi, 9, did not mind getting a few days off from school, but the thought of staying home in Novato without working electronics was less than appealing. “There’s no fun stuff we can do,” he said. Still, Parker was more concerned about his pet bearded dragon, Spike, whom he was bringing in a glass tank to a hotel room in Carmel-by-the-Sea, where electricity beckoned.

“He needs the heat lamp to stay alive,” Parker said.

The Palizis, who live in Marin County, were supposed to be on a 7 a.m. flight from Los Angeles on Monday so Delilah could perform as an elephant in her second-grade play. “She was so excited,” said her mother, Brooke Palizi, who works for a nonprofit organization.

But Delilah’s star turn will have to wait. The Novato Unified School District canceled school on Monday, and then on Tuesday and Wednesday, the Palizis learned late Monday afternoon. By then they were driving a rental car the seven and a half hours home.

The Windsor High School girls volleyball team had been slated to play in the playoffs on Wednesday, until a mandatory evacuation order came for the entire town of 28,000 on Saturday morning, giving residents six hours to flee. With all the district’s schools closed this week, the town on lockdown and the team scattered, Coach Rich Schwarz said he and the athletic director made the difficult decision to forfeit the game.

The players responded to his group text announcing the decision with sad-face emojis and messages of support, said Mr. Schwarz, who is in his final year coaching the team.

“How do we play when we don’t have practice and don’t know where the girls are? said Mr. Schwarz, who is staying with his sister in the town of Rohnert Park. “We can’t tell parents to break into the town to get their uniforms. At what point does an extracurricular activity become way too much? We need to let families worry about whether their house is still standing.”

[The New York Times has photographers on the ground, documenting the California wildfires and the battle to contain them. Follow their work here.]

The Getty fire was caused by an ‘act of God.’

The Getty fire started when a branch broke off a tree and hit nearby power lines — an accident that Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles called an “act of God.”

The power lines began to spark and ignited nearby brush, Mr. Garcetti said at a news conference on Tuesday afternoon. He said investigators have not found any evidence that faulty equipment started the fire.

The fire, which has burned at least 650 acres and was 15 percent contained as of Tuesday night, broke out shortly after 1:30 a.m. Monday along the major freeway known as the 405, near the Getty Center. It quickly spread through neighborhoods north of Brentwood, destroying 12 homes and damaging five more.

The authorities determined the cause in part after seeing dash cam footage that showed an explosion on the side of the road early Monday morning, Mr. Garcetti said.

Reporting was contributed by Nicholas Bogel-Burroughs, Dan Levin, Thomas Fuller, Julie Turkewitz, Jose A. Del Real and Jacey Fortin.

*********

#wildfire #california #california wildfires #national news #national security #naturaldisasters #poverty #u.s. news #firefighters #trending topics #top news #top stories google news #tech news #news

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rajinedgeofdarkness · 7 years ago

Text

The Beginning

Brimebet, a small village surrounded by the forests and mountain ranges beyond. It’s been my home for the most part for many years. My name is Skyfyre, and I don’t have a lot of memories of my childhood oddly as I was orphaned at a young age of 14. Not sure what happened, I just recall one day when I awoke, they were long gone without a trace. I decided to leave the city and come here instead. Life hasn’t been quite the same, some days are better than others. The villagers here are very friendly, much more so than those back in Welshire. They’ve been kind enough let me do odd jobs whether it was cleaning, picking crops, and what have you in exchange for a little money or food. Most of the time I keep to myself as I made a shelter within the outskirts on top of some tall trees. It allows me to get a nice view and get away from the light bustling of small town work. Margaret is one of the nicest women in the entire place. She’s elderly, but youthful in spirit. She often has me over for some home made food and to tell stories of her past and her travels. I always envied her once adventurous spirit and wanted to get out there more myself. One thing I loved about this place was it was frozen in time encompassing medieval based living, a time of castles and knights, preserved in the buildings and it’s people. Huge difference from Welshire, which more modernized. Never really felt comfortable in the midst of the sky scrapers and busy-ness of it all, but my folks were convinced it was the best place for us at the time.

Theobald, the village blacksmith, I always love to watch him from a safe distance. He’s been mastering this art for over 30 years. I often go up to him and ask if he can make me a sword. I didn’t know what I would do with it at the time, but thought it would be cool to have. He always said that for my stature a sword would be too awkward to handle, but a bow, that would be my true calling. I always sort of laughed at that statement, couldn’t imagine me with a bow at the time, do I need a horse too? Of course it wasn’t too much of a laughing manner as not long after I tried my hand at carving one out of spare wood and string, given it wasn’t great, but it made for good crafting practice anyway. Diane the tailor was always amused at my ragged appearance. She’s offered me clean pair of clothes almost on a weekly basis, but I turn her down. I always felt that this raggedy sort of suited me and since I’m outdoors in the dirt most of the time, I’m too worried to mess up a perfectly tailored dress. Diane never had a doubt in my capabilities or my future. I often have said to her once I saved up enough coins that I’m hoping to travel and maybe find my calling out there, whatever it was. At the same time unlike other girls my age, never felt the need to find a man and settling down in a nice cottage to start a farm or move back to the big city to start a business. I hated the idea of being stuck in one place for too long, I wanted to spread my wings so badly. Alas at times I did feel trapped here, but only so much to do, I could of run away, but where would I go? The forests are filled with dangerous beasts and I had no idea how to defend myself enough either. I kept telling myself, someday, though….someday.

I guess I should give a quick overview of my daily life huh? Most days are about the same, waking up early when the sun rises, helped the villagers with some basic tasks. I often worked on the nearby farm aiding Hamlisch and Franny especially during the harvest season. Took up most of the day picking the corn, wheat, among some fruits and veggies. However by day’s end I was always treated to a bundle of the fresh produce to take back with me. Gregory who was the butcher spent a good chunk of his time running his stall in the Main Street of the village. He often sold chicken, but on rare occasions more delicate items hunted nearby like deer and even dire wolf. Sympathizing with my situation, he always gave me a huge discount, so by the end of the week’s worth of pay I was able to treat myself to a hearty chunk of what he had in store. Kids could be heard playing often coming up to ask me things about where I came fro. They always found me as a positive role model and I often engaged in silly acts and stories to keep them cheerful before their parents shouted at them to come back home. Yeah life here was decent for the most part, I’m learning a lot from everyone here and even though it’s hard work too and lonely at times since I have yet to make a close companion thus far, it has its own rewards. By the end of the day, I head back up to my tree house with a open roof giving away to a clear view of the starry sky. I had a concerted area with sand for a small fire pit with some old rusty dishware that I found before it gets thrown out. I cook the produce and meat into whatever I’m able to concoct up. Most of it can be blande without access to spices, but I made due. At least it’s food and it keeps me alive and well for the most part for another day here.

The first days here were hard, but than they turned to years and I’ve grown with the people, seen many leave, and many more come in. One night however, something strange happened. After settling in for bed, there was a bright flicker above, it looked like a normal shooting star, but it exploded in mid air leaving a colorful trail behind in it’s wake, it almost appeared to get bigger. I realized it was about to head towards me whizzing over my head and into the forest. Upon impact, it let out a bright light that faded into darkness as if nothing happened. Of course I was curious, literally the most interesting thing that had occurred since my arrival. I began walking to the entry way nervous as the tall trees engulfed my present making my size seem insignificant in comparison. It was dark and oddly silent. I walked forward a few steps more watching behind me as the lights of the village were becoming blocked by the branches. I began to regret coming in there but something attracted me to continue walking further and further into the unknown. Minutes became hours as I realized how lost I was. How far did that thing go? Suddenly I noticed was a dim reddish glow peaking through the thorny brambles. The glow became brighter as I got closer to it before reaching a clearing scorched by the fire, the object knocked some of the trees away before its landing. A faint moaning sound could be heard coming from the rough rock like mass. I walked closer and the glow became ever so brighter, almost blinding. A small flame emerged from the top and a feeling of energy is felt breaking away the dark chunks that were shielding what was inside. Once fully exposed, the flame grew stronger before going out suddenly leaving a smooth red crystalline structure behind. The glow remained but flickered in and out and the moaning became more audible. Almost began to sound like a rumble or a growl, like something was alive in there. I prudently stepped forward before I was a foot away from it than I kneeled down. Something about the object kept me glued to it, I couldn’t help but want to place my hand on it’s surface. The noises became louder, the object began to glow consistently once more blinding my eyes and directing my focus to it and it alone. Before my hand reached out with my fingers inches away from contact. Everything left me in a trance, I could no longer control my actions or even tune out anything. A painful pulse was felt up my arm as I tried to move my hand away, but was unable to. An intense burning sensation ran through my entire body. I was finally able to free myself, falling backwards writhing in agony as the heat dissipated leaving me numb and motionless. It hurt to turn my head to face the now broken object leaving shards all over the forest floor. My eyes grew heavy as everything faded and became black.

Birds chirping and sunlight directly overhead roused me to open my eyes. I leaned upward, still unsure of last night and where I was. I got up and looked back at the object, that was completely blackened as if it burned to ashes overnight. What happened? Was all of this a dream? Why am I out here? My head throbbed as an ache took over and made it hard to think. My chest felt tender for some reason like a big bruise was present going from one side of my collarbone to the other. Putting my hand on it I felt a rough scaliness texture. Without hesitation, I ripped off my shirt exposing something that brought fear and panic into me. It was a burn mark, but of a very unusual shape, like a creature of some sort with wings out spread from one shoulder to the next. I clenched it and keeled over trying to breathe calming myself. I think to myself that I need to get back to the village and find help. I begin to run in the opposite direction of the clearing tripping over roots rocks along the way finally making it back to the village only to find it up in smoke……..

It’s at this point Skyfyre discovers GenCRYPT attacking the city after gaining intel of the mysterious meteor strike nearby with instruments detecting something living in it’s nature. They threaten to dismantle the village and harm its residents in search for the rock and when Sky rushes to the village to try to help, everything comes to standstill. They realize she carries the same life signal as the mysterious object and redirect their attention to her. It was here where her powers emerge for the first time showing off in a dangerous manner that almost destroys what remains of Brimebet. The same powers aid in her temporary escape as the people of GenCRYPT have no choice, but to follow her.

I awoke, something wet and warm could be felt running across my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling the hard ground below, it was night again. I could see a blurry reddish figure come into focus. Yellow eyes with slotted pupils big paws with small talons and a stubby tail. Startled I tried to push myself away from it only for it to follow me. It stumbled awkwardly before falling to the ground letting out a high pitched whining chirp before attempting to run towards me once more. I fell back over and it crawled onto my chest getting close to my face. I was nose to nose with the strange creature. It didn’t seem to want to harm me. It placed one of it’s paws onto the middle part of my chest. My eyes widened as I could feel a burning sensation emanate and flashes of memories rushed back to when I was back in the village. I couldn’t even recognize myself my hair was long and bright red, on fire almost matching the glowing from my eyes as I hovered in the middle of the village surrounded by armored men with guns pointed towards me. I looked angry, out of control. I could feel myself letting out a scream as fire emerged from my hands and mouth aiming at everything around me not caring if it was friend or foe. I than found myself blasting off somehow towards the mountain ranges disappearing. So now I’m here. Before I lost control a massive shadow emerged, a winged beast letting out a roar to the heavens before going back into my body causing myself to change entirely without warning. I forgot everything from the day before, I sat up and the little creature slid down my stomach resting on my lap.

Switching back to third person story telling here

“Ugh…..hello?” The creature turns it’s head confused. “Umm so yeah…..this is awkward, but I should be getting back to make sure everyone is okay.” Skyfyre gets up and tries to figure out where she is, she walks out to the cliff edge to see that she is really high up. She feels a tug on her ankle as the critter tries to grab her preventing her from continuing. “Sky…….sky……don’t….go”. Skyfyre in shock looks at the creature, but can’t see any signs of actual speech, it was almost as if she felt it in her head. “Ugh, did you just talk to me?” “Don’t go………bad……..danger…..”. The creature proceeds to run around chasing it’s tail and letting out a snarl facing the outwardly landscape in the distance. “Ugh alrighty than, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating….right,…because,….animals can’t talk…..”. Sky tries to walk back casually ignoring the creature who continues to follow her. “Why don’t you go back home,….you know where your kind is from…….?” Ignoring her words, it continues to walk besides her. Sky begins to feel weak as she continues to climb down the mountain. The creature notices her fatigue. “Magic…..fading…..”. It senses it and without warning dematerializes in front of her eyes…..”wait…..stop….STOP…..what are you DOING!!!?” The physical form disappears leaving a shapely blob of colored dust and the mark on Sky’s chest begins to glow as it absorbed the particulated matter. She could feel her mind fill up, and energy returning and heat running from the mark to her mind soothing her stresses and worry. “Ummmmm,….what just happened?” No response. “I’m officially going insane right now?” Skyfyre, confused clenches her chest, her heart pounding slower than normal as she figures out what the hell is happening. She continues her tread down the mountain and back through the forest towards the village, or what’s left of it.

Short summary of what is to happen next (dialogue added later in novel itself and everything else).

Skyfyre finds the village destroyed with many of the villagers gone except for a few who came out from under the rubble, fearful of her. She had to convince them she doesn’t wish them harm and that she has no idea who those mysterious intruders were. Showing her innocence, she is accepted once more, but they remain nervous of her stay and convince her she needs to leave for good because those people will surely come back for her and that it’s no longer safe here and nobody is able to protect her. Sky asks where the men went, and Theobald points towards the mountains close to where she came from and how they most likely saw her come back here and will be turning around. Sky, scared for what is going on, Margaret convinces her of a blessing in disguise and cleverly reminds her of the adventure that she always wanted to have and now she must go and take it. Theobald hands over a professionally crafted bow with a quiver of arrows telling her she can protect herself with this. The arrows are sharp and built to penetrate even the toughest armor. Unsure of the fate of the others, they work to persuade her that they will be okay and that the village can be rebuilt and people will return, but for sure that she must go and not look back. Tearfully hugging the only people she came to know, she begins to run back out to the forested area hoping to veer the men off course to avoid the village to keep what’s left in tact and ensure they keep following her.

The rest of this will work towards telling the story of Skyfyre’s preminary travels before her eventual capture as she constantly stays on the move learning about her newfound powers and training her self with the bow. Blaze once old enough and is able to speak in full sentences introduces himself fully and grows with her just enough to sprout a small set of wings and horns without being much bigger than her. She travels through the forest across rivers as she leaves the valley to see what else is out there trying to stay a step ahead from the army of mysterious figures.

#the beginning #rajinedgeofdarkness #storyline #snippet #storyboarding

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plathway · 7 years ago

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End of December so that means it’s BEST OF/END OF/WORST OF List time! As evidenced by the blog title I’m just going to be doing a summary (not in ranking order) of my favourite memories from 2017. I won’t even bother with a “Worst Of” because we all know about the terrible things that happened this year, things that we will still be dealing with long past 2018.

I personally am a huge fan of New Year’s Eve. Yes practically resolutions are never fulfilled and everything is extra expensive but I love the hopefulness that usually permeates around this time of year. The new year looks so shiny and new and there really is something seductive about (hopefully) becoming a new or better person.

The last day of 2017 is a chiller. I was out taking a walk at around 4:30 and the air was so crisp and sharp but the light was so soft. It made me think about the year ahead, all shiny and new; hard and cold as yet untouched with familiar warmth. Daylight seemed to try it’s hardest to cling to the very end. The sky was all pale blues and soft rosy pinks. It made me the streetlight glow feel so golden yellow and the moon is full and such a pure perfect white, it looks like a pearl in the sky.

I hope I become a better person than I was in 2017. I hope that I will have a lot of fun memories as I did in 2017. And now, in no particular order, my favourite 2017 memories.

Art Shows: Mystical Landscapes, Blue Whale @ ROM and Georgia O’Keeffe @ AGO

I got to see some really cool gallery exhibits this year thanks to Helen. Mystical Landscapes was nice, got to see some of the classic Monet’s and Van Gogh’s. My favourite ones that I saw was the Blue Whale during one of the ROM’s Friday Night Lives and and the Georgia O’Keeffe at AGO’s First Thursdays.

The Blue Whale was really cool; whales are gigantic and everyone knows that but seeing it was really awe inspiring. I think it’s heart is like the size of a Fiat lol. I really really loved the Georgia O’Keefe exhibit. It was quite big and some of my favourite pieces were: – Lake George Reflection – Flower Abstraction 1924 – Abstraction White Rose – Horse’s Skull with Pink Rose – Farmhouse Window and Door (this one is really cool to see in person because it looks 3D or layered paper but it’s just paint.) – Mule’s Skull with Pink Poinsettias – From the Faraway, Nearby – Rust Red Hills – Red Hills and Bones – Red and Yellow Cliffs – Wall with Green Door 1953 – My Front Yard, Summer

I wish that you could see what I see out the windows – the earth pink and yellow cliffs to the north – the full pale moon about to go down in an early evening lavender sky behind a very long beautiful tree-covered mesa to the west- pink and purple hills in front an the scrubby fine dull of cedars- and a feeling of much space- it is a very beautiful world. Georgia O’Keeffe

Lol my celebrity encounter of the year happened when I was at the O’Keeffe show, I saw Camila Mendes from Riverdale walk by. I was honestly star struck. She walked by and I literally stood there gaping and then had a moment of panic because I wanted to chase after her but I also had to find Helen who had gone up ahead. I finally found her and then we spent the rest of the night running around the AGO looking for her but she had went back to her hotel to live tweet Riverdale lol.

Women’s March

The Women’s March was the first protest that I’ve ever been to. My mom thought it was dumb of me for going because, “what is it really going to do?” which is a sentiment held by a lot of people.

I went with Rebekah and it was a really fun experience. The turn out was much greater than I expected, not just in Toronto but all around the world. It felt nice being part of that crowd all with a similar goal.

Brunch Club

Brunch times with my Y&E girls and seeing baby Celeste! Lol it’s nice seeing Mei’s 1st OG team and Celeste who is the cutest baby in the entire world.

Dangerous Dan’s

All the times Rebekah, Precillia and I would go to Dangerous Dan’s. We’d always get the same thing, a coffee shake for me and an uber Amy grilled cheese, with fries or onion rings on the side. Precillia would always get the gyros with a side of pierogies and Rebekah would get a grilled cheese and the owner would always tease her for being a vegetarian. And the very best, we’d get a cookie cow pie to share.

Unfortunately it closed due to the increasing gentrification, but the memories of going there starving with Precillia and Rebekah, hearing the rest of the staff yell at Heather (or Helen? I don’t remember) just laughing and eating the most delicious food was truly some of the best times.

My first time at a vape lounge

The day of the TRL sale, (Rebekah and I made out like a bandit, the books were like FIFTY CENTS!!!!) Rebekah took Precillia and I to a vape lounge for the first time. I don’t know if it was what she rolled or if it’s because other people were smoking but I have never gotten that high in my life.

We were discussing middle school crushes and it was my turn, I stopped right in the middle of my story and I felt like it was so hard for me to speak and I could not stop laughing, my voice got so high it was practically a squeak.

Birthday Party @ BATL

This year for my birthday we went axe throwing and also shot bows and arrows. I don’t know what was my favourite part… seeing old friends and catching up, when they gave us photos of Trump to put in the bullseye…

Actually, the highlight was when we played the most intense game of gigantic Jenga of my life.

Escape Rooms

This year we really got into escape rooms. Two of the ones we did were super scary and one of them we beat! The first one we did we were all locked in individual stalls and had to work our way out of them, the second one was a diamond heist so I got to live out my dream of being an actual cat burglar.

By far the scariest one we did was for Precillia’s birthday. The theme of the house is that we broke into a haunted house but it really turned out to be a murder house. And we had to break through a series of clues to try to escape. I am a big fucking baby so I was useless and spent the whole time screaming. As far as escape rooms went it was really atmospheric. It gave us a lot of fun puzzles to solve that were really hard. And we got to move around the small room by climbing through a hidden cabinet, running up and down the stairs, pulling things out of grates etc. The hardest part was the actual physical component. We had to make it across this set of monkey bars, I went first and fell into the foam–Rebekah was the only one to make it across. Unfortunately we ran out of time but we made it nearly to the end. Rebekah was the Judas and would have sacrificed us all if we had the time.

All the visits to Doc

Whether I was freezing in the winter, or getting a sun burn during the summer or any of the visits by myself… hanging out at Doc was always a fun time. Riverdale park is gorgeous. My favourite thing is to go there listening to opera and reading.

Summer in Port Dover

This summer Precillia told us about Port Dover which is one of the few beaches in Ontario that has palm trees. There are only three of them but a guy wanted them here so badly he planted them and they stand there lol. Port Dover is truly one of the best beaches I’ve been to in Ontario. I wish we were near ocean water but the water in Port Dover is pretty nice for lake water. We’ve only been three times but each time was amazing. I think my favourite was the second time when Precillia, Rebekah and Ayan went. I think it was after a storm or a storm was coming but we stayed out in the water as the sky turned clear to grey to all these different shades of blue. We saw a rainbow and that day Rebekah and Precillia found twenty dollars in the water and we also got a football from these guys that were chilling near us. Sitting in Precillia’s car, loose limbed and sun kissed eating salty messy Subway sandwiches before Precillia sped us off into the night that was so blue it felt like we were being wrapped up in it, it was so thick. Every time I hear “Sex on Fire” I can feel Precillia’s car flying down the road and the blue of the night blocking out the sound of the world as that “YeahhhHhHhHhHhHHHHhhh” fills my ears.

Bruce Peninsula

So, we did everything right starting off the trip lol. We set out really early, got all of our snacks and drove all the way up there… only to stand in the woods for a bit. The Bruce Peninsula has grown so much in popularity, especially because of the Canada Park’s Pass that there were only a few slots during the day that we could go and all of those were filled up. In the end we ended up going to Port Dover.

Kudos to Precillia for the drive because it was long AF. We eventually got so hungry we were looking for the nearest place to eat and I think we drove to an A&W in some small town. It was full of old white people but it was easily the cleanest and nicest looking A&W we’d ever been in lol.

Rebekah had an edible that she split with me and it really gave me a new appreciation for Ontario. I truly live in a beautiful province, there were so many gorgeous fields and fields of flowers and farm stands and we saw Mennonites just trundling along beside us in their horse and buggy.

Carly Rae Jepsen @ TSO

For Canada’s 150th birthday, actual Canadian treasure Carly Rae Jepsen played her greatest hits accompanied by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. I went with Precillia and it was truly a magical night. Everyone was dancing and singing along, it was just a fun night with great pop music full of love.

Janet and Petr visiting

Janet is officially back in Canada with her husband Petr!!!! They came up to visit me for a week and I was ecstatic because I had my foodie buddy back. We ate at some of my favourite restaurants in Toronto such as Descendant for Detroit style pizza, Maha’s for Egyptian food, Hot Star fried chicken, Patois, FuZen, Tsujiri and some of my Kensington Market favourites as well.

Friendsgiving2k17

The second annual Friendsgiving was even more lit than the first if you can believe it! We got a beautiful house with a sauna and stuff this time because I got a credit from AirBnB because they cancelled my original reservation. I have like 5 memories from that night because I decided to compete with Tsering but I cherish all 5 of them. I know we did White Elephant, we had a lovely family dinner, I think Beer Pong was played and we played Monopoly for a few rounds and then Precillia and I murdered a unicorn cake.

Expectations are HIGH for #Friendsgiving2k18 but know that Precillia, Rebekah, Ayan and I are going to pull it off.

Anyways, those are some of my favourite memories of 2017! I know I had many more and I’m excited for what 2018 has to offer. I hope it’s nothing but good things for all of us.

Happy New Year’s Eve!

xoxo Cat

Today's featured image is by Pedro Miranda Filho

lmaoooo down to the wire here is my last 2017 post!!! End of December so that means it's BEST OF/END OF/WORST OF List time! As evidenced by the blog title I'm just going to be doing a summary (not in ranking order) of my favourite memories from 2017.

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unigotchi · 7 years ago

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DES 102 Week 5

When I was creating these characters, I spent the two hours in lesson time just writing up ideas for them, as I do not think I am very good at art and rendering my ideas to paper (or screen). I didn’t really intend to use 2 hours on this but that’s what I did. I will include all my writing in the Read More section, but here is the information requested.

I chose a post-apocalyptic setting, mostly based on the book series Mortal Engines, a series set after a nuclear apocalypse destroyed the world. The series starts off with a group of people living in the wreckage of London, which is almost exactly the basis of my character design location as well, with the minor difference that in Mortal Engines, cities are mechanical, and move around like giant animals, eating each other for resources.

I’m really ashamed of the quality of my images, and designs, and ideas. So, sorry.

I started with creating the vague body shapes of the two characters. At this point I realized just how similar my concepts were to Roadhog and Junkrat, two apocalypse survivors who live in a destroyed city and travel around together, from the game Overwatch. My main excuse for this is that their archetypes are so, so common that it would take a long development process to make pair of characters where the main contrasts are weight and height.

These characters are yet unnamed, and little detail can be made from these images. The left character is designed to be more square in visual design, to represent how set in her ways she is, and how she doesn’t want change. She is sturdy, and capable of taking hits, and her two main weapons are a pair of industrial strength scissors and a crowbar. She does not use these much for melee, instead they are used in dismantling nearby rubble to use as makeshift bludgeoning weapons.

The character on the right is designed to look a lot more unbalanced, and top heavy, to represent how she wants to change the world and does not mind if that changes her too. Her tools are her backpack, which she uses to store materials she has scavenged, and her spanner, which is used to create small simple robots that become brief allies in fights.

I haven’t learnt much about Illustrator since last week, just that layers are much harder to manipulate. In all honestly, I just wanted to get the visual designs over with as soon as I could because I hate drawing, but I don’t think even with more work the characters would be much improved.

Below are all my notes that I wrote down when designing these characters. It’s in Read More cause there’s a hecky dang lot of it and you might not want to waste your time.

Post Apocalyptic

Potential for conflict between the characters

One is quite satisfied with the way the world is now, and one is trying to go back to how it was before the apocalypse. Their two ways of fighting might get in the way of each other at the beginning, with the large bulky weapons potentially breaking or undoing the work of the intricate mechanisms, and the large fighter would have to avoid hurting the small techie. Obviously these difficulties would be overcome further into the game as they learn to synergise with eachother, and also the player would get tired of having to control to opposing forces which are constantly putting each other at risk.

Opportunities for both characters to demonstrate unique strengths and weaknesses

Obvious size and body type differences are an easy place to start, with one being able to perform tasks (break walls, slip through cracks) that the other cannot. But it can go deeper, with the technician (they need names) being so obsessed with returning to the past that they cannot see the positives of life here and now, the scrapper struggling to cope with seeing remnants of the past as they explore over because of the guilt and resentment these images bring up.

Who

I mean they’re both clearly gay and I’m having that right here in this document so on the off chance these ever become real characters I can shove it in the face of people who try to deny it. Additionally, there are plenty of ways to explore transgender stuff in a setting where societal norms have just absolutely collapsed, and I cannot name a single trans protagonist, so I think if scrapper was trans it could present some things to explore in her backstory, but would not need to affect the present day in any way.

I’m struggling to come up with names because while I want to be racially inclusive, I don’t know HECK about different names culturally and I would like their names to have some kind of meaning. And right now I have up the ‘top 60 popular indian girl names of 2014’ and I don’t think that’s the best way of deciding names, so I’m going to leave them blank for now.

They would have an age difference, not too extreme but enough to justify the different ways they reacted to the apocalypse. I think the scrapper lady would be older, perhaps about 20-21 at the time the apocalypse took place, leaving her at around 30 now. The technician girl would have been about 14-16, leaving her in her mid-20s by the time the game takes place. This age difference creates a dynamic of having one person knowing what the real world was like, and was still coming to terms with losing the rose tinted lense of being a child, so she was living in the harshest time of her life. This contrasts with the other person having experienced a mostly positive and supporting world, and being angry that it was taken away from her before she could complete her life goals.

Their key relationship, as I said earlier, is definitely going to be each other, but maybe at the start they don’t have much more than a friendly acquaintances partnership, or perhaps even just ‘together by necessity’ (I still don’t know what that necessity is). In terms of family, I think having a very sparse group of people they are related to by blood, perhaps just the scrapper lady’s father and a sibling for the technician. I think outright stating that the rest of their families were killed would have a small effect on the player, but at this point ‘dead family’ is a little cliché and I’m not interested in a ridiculously tragic story, despite the setting. I think a general idea would be that, as society fell apart, so did social norms of relationships and family, with plenty of families completely splitting apart and losing contact. Despite what I just said about tragedy, this could lead to another contrast between the two main characters again, with the technician only realizing 16 years into their life that their parents were only together for the sake of their children, and that the family was highly strung up on high achievement and was not particularly close otherwise. Her only remaining brother could be disabled in some way, perhaps having ADHD, which in the old world would have been a burden in schools and maybe could be explored as a way of showing just how abusive techie’s parents actually were. I don’t want disability to be seen as a burden though, I want him to be succeeding in this new world, however the ways he thinks affects him. On the opposite end of the parent-child relationship spectrum, but still exploring abusive relationships, I think if the scrapper lady’s parents were some kind of British equivalent of an American republican, I can’t think of a name for that type of person in England, but when I reread this I’ll know what I mean. Maybe they were a very loving family, but were also a very hateful group of people, and scrapper didn’t feel like she fitted in. I think her father wouldn’t realize who she was in the new world, as she came out only after the family had collapsed, and he would be a low tier society member because of his beliefs that he still holds onto.

Their upbringings could dictate their motivations, with techie believing her perfect family can still be resurrected by returning to how the past was, and that everything can be fixed by innovation, contrasting with scrapper recognizing a lot of the rotten parts of the past for both herself and other people, knowing that her life is better here and now, and that a society that no longer struggles with racism is the way forward.

This returns to the idea of an anti-utopia, a world that is, in all simple definitions, perfect, with plenty of love, and teamwork, and innovation, but anyone looking at it sees a very clearly destroyed world.

This makes the problem of conflict and motivation for a game INCREDIBLY HARD. We have a ‘perfect’ world that is perfect BECAUSE of its destruction. What can jeopardise this life? I’ve created a world where I can’t see any conflict this is so dumb.

I think the original motivation for the game could be that, due to a shift in something space related, a lot of space debris is raining down. It poses little threat to people, as luckily it is falling outside of inhabited areas, but provides a lot of interest, as plenty of satellites are returning to earth (and suspension of disbelief is keeping them from burning up).

What

Scrap Harvester

Vehicle Technician

Where

A post-apocalyptic city, probably British? (because I know the UK better than America). A city based off of a real life one, but with some clearly derelict and some clearly ‘renovated’ areas. People living in these towns eke out a life scavenging for building materials that can be used to create housing and farms. This city in particular is almost an anti-utopia, being incredibly well developed but having an aesthetic of run-down, bombed-to-death suburbs.

When

Sometimes in the near future, or present day in an alternate world where society collapsed very quickly and briefly because of some unknown event (unknown because I don’t know what to make it).

Why

The scrapper lady is happy with the life she has now, as it is (somehow) an improvement on her previous life. She helps people to build their houses, and has some architectural knowledge, so leads teams to salvage any building parts they can.

The technician is trying to replicate the vehicles from before the end, in the hopes that improved transport can help recreate the old life everyone had. One day maybe she can move on from vehicles to other mechanical engineering works, and rebuild the old cities.

How

I think a simple crowbar would suffice for the scrapper lady, along with perhaps some large wire cutter-type scissors. She’s very strong, so focuses on melee, and can perhaps utilise nearby rubble and structures as weaponry as well. In terms of game mechanics, this would result in having two reliable, unbreakable weapons, the crowbar and the scissors, and then some low durability weapons that can be acquired from the countless piles of refuse all over the world map.

For the engineer, she would be the post-apocalyptic equivalent of a hacker finding use out of anything mechanical and controlling it, or building very simple robots to work alongside her. These means, in combat sense, she would be a flimsy character on her own and has to create small mechanisms that perhaps inflict status conditions on opponents.

Archetypes

It’s very difficult put these characters into one archetype, or at least it is for me, as I’ve already put so much thought into them that I see them as more than one dimensional. For the scrapper, I think that The Caregiver is very fitting, as she is satisfied in her life as long as she’s able to be helping someone. I think that The Explorer fits techie the best out of the options, and she wants to go and discover what is inside the satellites, but a lot of the points of the explorer is that they are in an enclosed society, which could not be further from the truth in this case. Anyone is allowed to do whatever they want. I think she doesn’t fit in very well, as her knowledge of life no longer has too many practical applications, with mathematics, science and mechanical knowledge being of a little use to a society where farming and building are the main jobs. Despite being loved and accepted by the community, she feels a personal burden because of how she doesn’t think she is needed, so is afraid of being abandoned.

Character Diamonds

Protective, Intelligent, Just,

Nervous, Strategic, Careless, Inquisitive

#DES102 #pre-visualisation #character designs #character concepts #concept art #my art is honestly shameful #i hate it and myself

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mellofellowblog · 5 years ago

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Looking Backwards to Move Forwards

*WARNING: LONG INTROSPECTIVE LIFE STORY REFLECTIVE POST INCOMING*

As an aside from the daily exercises and actual songwriting that you don’t see here I’ve taken the plunge and started getting songwriting lessons as a kind of third prong to my attack on my writing process. Apart from a couple of songwriting workshops and little insights from my old guitar teacher at school over a decade ago my entire ‘songwriting journey’ has been just doing it, chipping away every now and then and glacially figuring out what works and what doesn’t. So this one on one learning experience is quite new to me and a little scary since it makes things really feel like i’m starting again, like a fully grown 30 year old going back to high school to study algebra or something. Well, i guess it’s probably a lot closer to going back to uni and getting a tutor, but even that gives off a feeling of going backwards to a part of my life that I’ve ‘moved on’ from. It might seem like i’m throwing everything I’ve built out the window and starting again this year with my overhaul, but I think its really more so that I am hyper focussing now on something that always had an air of “...and later I’ll put in the work and hone this properly”. That said I think its important to acknowledge where I’ve come from and give my old self a little bit of props despite the fact that I’m mentally burning all the progress I’ve made down, because really, although I hope this ‘reset’ helps improve my songwriting a lot and fixes areas that I have neglected over the years at the end of the day nothing can really erase the instincts I carry in regards to music that I’ve built up over the years. That and theres still a part of me that rejects the notion of putting myself out there as “starting again” when if I stop to think about it, I have actually put in a lot of work over my life so far. Obviously i still feel that I have a fair ways to go, but I thought it would be fun to look back at my humble beginnings and give a rough timeline of musical events that have got me to where I am today, with a rough focus on songwriting. So basically a TLDR mellofellow life history lesson that nobody asked for but I thought might be fun to do. Welcome to my musical “this is your life”

1998/1999?: My first guitar Not sure if i was 8 or 9, but at around that age on one of our family trips to my grandparents in Mount Gambier (South Austrailia) my dad bought me a 3/4 nylon string acoustic guitar. I remember he got a good deal on it because when removing the price sticker it peeled off a little section of the paint on the bridge next to the saddle. My best friend at the time was getting lessons and I don’t think there was anything really extra that motivated me to get one, but I have distinct memories of the day we bought the instrument home and I had it sat on the bed at my Grandparents place, blindly pulling at the strings to make sound come out of this foreign wooden box. No idea that this was the start of something that would consume my life in years to come.

1999?-2003: First lessons from a one horse town I grew up on a farm near a very small town in rural Victoria called Derinallum and went to the appropriately named local school: Derrinallum College. with about 20 kids per year (that always dwindled towards yr 12 due to most people either changing schools or dropping out to pursue farming) it had a pretty small population of about 90 people, but there was still a music teacher who taught everyone who wanted to learn all the basic instruments they wanted to from flute to trumpet, piano and yes, guitar. I remember having a few different teachers early on as people would come and go, the first one showing me my first G chord and giving me a chart for “knocking on heaven’s door” much to my fathers delight, but soon after my regular teacher had started me basically learning single note flute music with letters written under the dots (something that simultaneously gave me a keen ear for picking up melodies but absolutley ruined any chance at sight reading properly). I remember picking what I considered the hardest tunes to play at the annual performance recitals, the melody from “the entertainer” and the bassline from “the theme from Peter Gun” are pieces that stand out in my mind but my biggest claim to fame from this point in my life was figuring out how to play the melody from “all the small things” by blink 182 all by myself by ear. I felt like I was freaking Mozart not needing to be taught or read something and still being able to play it and that discovery gave me those initial inklings of the potential for what I could do with this wooden box.

2004: New school, new lessons and the Led Zeppelin live dvd So at the ripe age of 13 I had made the big move up in life from Derrinallum to Ballarat Grammar boarding school in Ballarat, Victoria. It was a pretty wild transition from the get go, but musically was initially a little discouraging as at my first guitar lesson (from an amazing human being Laurie) I found out that I had basically needed to start all over again and that the biggest carry over from my entire 4 years of musical pursuits had yielded me the one G chord i still remembered. It was acknowledged that the solo flute lines I had learned were good for training my ears, but really had no real value for the things one would typically learn in a guitar lesson. Laurie had asked me what type of music i enjoyed or would like to start learning and I remember saying that I didn't really had any preference for music, that I liked “anything with a bit of a beat” so I quickly was given my first chord charts in 4 years and it looked like I was going to become a acoustic rhythm type of guy. But then everything changed about halfway through that year when one of my friends got a dvd of a little band called Led Zeppelin... Apparently the year before at the end of year house performance the year 12s had done a rendition of Stairway to Heaven which got my friend to chase up this dvd but oh my god. I have never had such an influential experience as I did watching that live version of stairway. I remember playing that song on repeat for months every morning before class (I’m sure much to my 6 roommates detest) and from there everything about my relationship with my guitar changed. Rather than just putting in a half hours effort before each lesson out of worrying I would disappoint my teacher, I was practicing 3, 4, 5 hours a day for just the fun of it working on my magnum opus of being able to play Stairway to Heaven all the way through. I remember slowly accumulating the entire Zep discography, learning each section of stairway bit by bit until finally being able to nail everything including the solo on my black ashton acoustic. I had made friends with a boy who had a real Gibson electric guitar and remember being dead set on getting a Les Paul of my own, scoping out my dream guitar like Jimmy Page’s on a school field trip to Chapel street in Melbourne and begged my parents for one that Christmas, to which they obliged and I was over the moon.

2005 - 2007: Musical identity and my first songwriting baby steps With a full back catalogue of Led Zeppelin and my Epiphone Les Paul at my side I flourished musically over the next couple of years, cementing my identity as a “long haired guitar guy” mastering improvising blues licks and the discographies of Zep, Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Sabbath, Queen, Cream and anything else that came from that same vein of guitar centric late 60s/early 70s music up to an unhealthy obsession with Van Halen and guitar virtuosos. I ended up getting school colours for music in my year 11 and 12 for the work I was doing in the school jazz band and by the end of my tenure at high school was expanding my musical repertoire to singing and piano because even though my quick pentatonic blues licks were the cornerstone of what I enjoyed playing I still had some shred of understanding that if there wasn’t also a song behind the guitar solos, things quickly became a little too wanky for my liking even at the time. Van Halen seemed the perfect blend of being able to show off when the solo came, but still ultimately still be servicing the bigger picture of a song. I would print off chord charts from entire Pink Floyd and Beatles albums and sit in the practice rooms and sing them front to back at the piano as a bit of a break from my ruthless 5+ hour guitar practice schedule. Near the end of year 11 my beloved guitar teacher was putting on a songwriting workshop where I learnt the basics of songwriting and started putting together my own really embarrassing silly songs. I remember finishing my first one called “Clayman’s Desire” which was an acoustic folk track in the vein of Queen’s “39′” about a little clay person who goes on an adventure to make friends. Even though there was a huge disconnect between the guitar centric virtuosic stuff i was playing I still felt super proud of it. I had high hopes that just like Brian May in Queen I would find a vocalist who would sing over all the riffs and music I was coming up with, but I would still get a song or two on each album that I would sing myself for variety and a way to show an extra notch in my belt not just as a guitarist, but as a guitarist who could also write songs too. Throughout year 12 I kept a little songwriting book where I would write poetry in hopes that i would turn everything into songs. It was all nonsensical wannabe surrealist kinds of stuff inspired by songs like “I am the walrus” by the Beatles, a band that I was gorging on in between my shred guitar escapades. By the end of year 12 in the holidays before starting uni the following year I made my first “album” of basically demo recordings on a CD i called “The Project”. It included some psychy guitar riff instrumentals as well as some very basic songs that were more or less just vessels for me to put little guitar solos into all recorded either DI or with the one microphone I owned (drums too). Still nothing like the shred guitar i was still all about playing, but uniquely me and something I felt that if i kept at it would eventually get to a point where i could write things that sounded closer to the greats I had admired. Even back then I knew everyone had to start somewhere and even though I was proud of the stuff I had made I still rightfully felt that any dreams of making good quality music were far off into the future and that was okay.

2008 - 2009: College After school I basically lived in the music room at college spending any time I wasn't out drinking with friends or cramming before tests playing with anyone who would give me the time and forming a covers band but in terms of original music things had already started to die down so early. I was still coming up with riffs and licks that were inching closer to the sound of things i knew i wanted to make but I kind of fell off the wagon in terms of songwriting throughout the semester, it wasn't until the semester break that I decided I wanted to follow up on my previous writing adventures with a focus on mimicking the styles of early Beatles with a little EP I called “Meatlebania” a cringeworthy attempt to focus on imitating the greats and ending up far from the mark. I remember posting tracks on my facebook page and getting criticised by some of my friends who expected something a lot better given my guitar playing abilities that they knew me for. It was pretty disheartening but to their credit looking back it was some of the absolute cringiest pieces of music i had ever made, let alone released. It had all the awkwardness of an 18 year old falling in love for the first time and not knowing a thing about good songwriting that came off as horrendously bad poetry and I didn't even put much effort into the guitar side off things, thinking that I wanted to bring the music down to the level of the songwriting and slowly move the quality of both of parts up together. A little bit of a profound foresight in concept for the quality of the finished product but again I was hopeful that this was still just the very beginning of my journey with music and that I needed to make these mistakes to move forward even if it was a pretty slow process. every step was going to get me closer to making something I could really be proud of.

2009 - 2010: Open mics and Comedy songwriting After the whirlwind of college came and went I was living in a shared house with some friends I knew from high school. It didn't take long before me and my housemate sussed out a local open mic night and were playing acoustic covers down there every week. It was actually a ‘reunion’ of an original band we started back in boarding school called Alloid (that resulted in some instrumental rock songs that had lyrics I wrote that were very ...not good). We were playing things like Hendrix and Rush acoustically with my housemate on bass and me on guitar/vocals but it wasn't until a few months in that I had a big light bulb moment of bringing a kazoo to do the solos to songs that things really fit into place. We would do things like Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Freebird with kazoo solos that hit all the guitar ones i knew note for note in a kind of over the top silly comedic fashion and with that I had found a new angle for music as a source of entertainment. After a while I started doing the acoustic/kazoo guitar rock thing by myself and phased in some originals that i would introduce with a bit of funny backstory. I remember playing Clayman’s Desire (the first song I had ever wrote) and getting a wonderful reception from the half dozen or so people at the open mic who were very supportive and saw the humour in playing an obviously undercooked song with a bit of charm in the cute awkward stage presence I had started to hone in on. Listening to comedy songwriters like Flight of the Conchords and Tim Minchin I ramped up the writing of quirky songs that i would put together and perform every week before eventually I had my first open mic “hit” with a song I wrote about a man crush I had on the Doctor Who star David Tennant. I would incorporate the shows theme song as the beginning and reprised it as a kazoo solo in the middle 8. It went down well at all the open mic shows I played, which were fast approaching 3 per week. With the disguise of using the fact that songs I was writing were “not serious” I was able to finish a lot of songs and figured out a ton about melody and the fundamentals of writing. I saw this as something I would do to hone my craft and eventually get back to writing “serious music” and apply these skills properly. I was building up a repertoire of comedy songs I would throw in in between over the top ‘kazoostic’ covers of rock songs like Killer Queen and the aforementioned Freebird to a pretty decent reception at the open mics. It was basically a real life meme before I knew memes were a thing. Eventually one of my friends from college was coming to see a fair few of my shows and loved my David Tennant song. She was a drummer with an amazing comedic musical theatre background and I thought I might be a wonderful idea to take our shared love of pop culturey things and start a band together.

2010 - 2012: Blue Turtle Shell With my pop culture sister from another mister at my side we started an original acoustic guitar/djembe “geek rock” band called Blue Turtle Shell, writing and performing silly songs about videogames TV shows and Movies that would incorporate themes from said pop culture topics into the songs as a kind of expansion of my David Tennant song template. It was so much fun being able to write with someone and to put in all the bells and whistles of vocal harmony and jokes in between songs of our open mic set. At the time i was also busking on the side playing all the pop culture and video game theme songs outside the comic book store in Melbourne raking in a pretty decent amount per hour compared to my bar job and one day I managed to get the band a gig at an anime convention from an event organised who enjoyed what I was doing on the street. We put out an EP as a twosome before becoming a trio with a mutual friend on bass and ended up having some pretty good gigs; getting a residency at the newly opened videogame cocktail bar and even “made it to” the finals of what turned out to be a scammy pay-to-play (well, convince all your friends to buy tickets to play) talent show competition in between open mics that we would play semi regularly that always had a good reception. It felt like we were starting to make traction and form some fans but things eventually faded out as I started realising that I was putting myself into a box songwriting wise. It was amazing to be able to write and play music that was uniquely “me” but I felt that I was never going to be able to do “serious music” so eventually when things died down with the band I just sort of stopped and thought of what I needed to do to get things back on that track.

2012 - 2013: Melbournes hardest working bass player So after my foray into the musical comedy world I thought it would be best to just put myself out there and play in some original bands in Melbourne. I put out a couple of ads on a musical craigslist site “Melband” offering my skills as a guitarist. After a week of no interest or replies I figured I’d chuck up an ad as a bass player and instantly had my inbox and phone blow up with requests. Within a week I was playing in 3 bands; one unnamed that was starting from the beginning in the process of writing what I would later know to be Mars Volta inspired porggy psych rock, another Middle Eastern Progressive Frank Zappa inspired band ‘Land of the Blind’ that was basically performing pre written complicated charts that would also have long improvised sections and finally a alternative indie/pop band ‘The Story Model’ where I was writing my own basslines and eventually contributing to songs. Each band held up a pillar of skills that I wanted to perfect as a writer and performer, the psych and prog nature of the unnamed band and Land of the Blind were much closer to where my head was at musically at the time but at the same time I knew I wanted to blend that with more of a pop influence that The Story Model had. Things were pretty hectic schedule wise but eventually after a few months the unnamed band broke up due to some pretty crazy intra-band politics -sadly before we recorded anything or played our first gig, but I still have some phone recorded demos of our jams that I look back on with fond memories- but even juggling two bands with regular gigs was a struggle that I rose to the occasion to. I was learning so much musically from this new life as a bass player, even just from my role in the band. As a bassist I had a world of appreciation opened up for me about groove and song feel, I’d always been a fan of riffs but the relationship between a bass player and a drummer is a sacred bond that is so powerful in conveying the musical ideas of the song. As the foundation of the musical cake I could also take in all the musical ideas of the melodic icing from the vocals or guitar leads, it felt like I was finally piecing everything together that I needed to eventually write my own music that would be closer to the things I wanted to write from the start. On top of all the gigs i was playing I also experienced my first proper studio sessions making demos with both bands as well as my first professionally recorded EP that I provided bass and backing vocals on with The Story Model. Eventually things died down and faded out with The Story Model which luckily coincided not long after I was stretching myself a little too thin anyways picking up work with another band that had contacted me on Melband a good year after I had initially posted my ad and forgotten to take it down. They were an alternative psychy rock band with a little prog influence with a bit of a following from Brisbane. The singer was moving to Melbourne to try and ramp things up musically after they had recorded their first album. To me it sounded like a dream melding of the pop sensibilities of the story model with the hard edge of bands like Rage Against the Machine and even some motifs that harkened back to my beloved Led Zeppelin. It was a band called Greefthief.

2013 - 2017: Greenthief and the beginnings of Mellofellow I juggled Land of the Blind with my new band for a little while but it didn’t take long to see that this was something I was willing to put more effort into since it lined up with so much of what I wanted to do musically, so I quit LotB and became a one band bass player. Things were so musically exciting and intense that there was no other way about it really, Greenthief was rehearsing 2-3 times a week after we found a drummer and had booked a massive 20-something date tour of Australia in support of the debut album they had recorded and were releasing after a month or two of me joining. I bought a Rickenbacker bass and an ampeg 6x10 fridge and set off on my first tour having the time of my life slamming fuzz riffs and writing new material with the band leader. After the tour we would still play a gig or two a week in Melbourne rehearse 2 days a week and usually I would go to the band leaders house for writing sessions once or twice a week on top of that. I loved the bands back catalog but was hungry to get some songs I had helped craft in to the set, I’d be pouring myself into the writing sessions expanding on a lot of my own writing knowledge while picking up a ton about editing down and how to package a hard hitting pop/rock song. While that side of things was amazing it wouldn't dawn on me until much later that while I was perfecting my role in the band writing wise as an editor, I wasn’t actually landing much of the finished product of songs from my actual musical ideas note wise. Structure and direction absolutely, and I knew I was a great soundboard for floating ideas to, but in terms of how many melodies or song sections in the new material that I had actually contributed and stayed in to the final product when it came time to perform the new tracks at gigs there was a bit of a disconnect between the 10s to 100s of hours I had put in to the little bits here and there that were uniquely me. That said I wrote 80% of my own basslines (and interpreted the other 20% in a unique way) and was changing a lot of ideas of the leaders that would have been a bit different had I not been there, but the bulk of the initial ‘heavy lifting’ writing wise was not mine and thats before you take into consideration that I had nothing to do with any lyrics. Luckily there was one track I had demoed that the leader liked enough to add to the set and it actually became the lead single and opening track of the first album I made with them, although I always had a discouraging sense that it was more of a meta move of the leader that he could sense that I was getting a little frustrated that I hadn’t really had much input in major song sections, but this could have just been a projection of my own self doubt (and i was always told that was not the case). Still, on the side of things while we were putting together our first release I was a part of ‘Tremors’ I was upping the ante of writing for myself as a way to demo things to the band but also with the idea that things that didn’t fit would be fair game for me to use for a kind of solo project. When the band’s musical direction moved a little further from my psychedelic rock interests in hope of chasing that holy grail of being played on Triple J, I ended up with a fair batch of psychy demos that wouldn't fit Greenthief that I would listen to each day on my commutes to work and then edit when I got home before rehearsals. Not a lot with lyrics but entire songs with melodies and riffs soley penned by me. Tame Impala had exploded a year or two before and I would see a lot of obvious knock off bands on the bill at Greenthief gigs with the idea of “i could do that” every time there was a washed out riffy set, so i did. I did do that. The plus side of having such an obvious direction helped when it did come to lyrics, keeping things psychy after being around so many psych bands at gigs I knew the basics of what their lyrics are written around subject wise and interspersed that with the influence of the bands I had grown up loving. A friend I had met through Greenthief had a pretty good home studio set up and I eventually took the plunge and recorded my first Mellofellow single with him on the first of January 2017. The weeks before I had hyper focussed on drumming since I knew that was my weak link musically although i had picked up a hell of a lot first and foremost as a bass player listening to the amazing drummers I had worked with. The resulting track “Journey to the Centre of Your Mind” was something I was hugely proud of and finally scratched the itch of being something I had written that was not a joke song but also got pretty damn close to what I was wanting to do musically in terms of my goals all those moons ago to have something that was on the level of quality that I wanted but could never achieve when I was starting out. Really that goal had already been filled earlier with the recordings I had done with Greenthief, but this time it was also my 100% my own writing. All my friends that I had made playing in bands as well as some that weren’t seemed to like my track and although I didn’t really have the means to push it to many people who weren’t in my immediate circle, that was ultimately the goal. My musical peers’ respect was all I could have wanted from a track that was solely my own and I could have so easily not done something like that with how hectic my schedule was at the time. It was at that point that I had to make the decision that I knew was going to be the final nail in the coffin for Greenthief when I went back to uni to get out of the dead end job that I had in retail. As a band we still played a lot, we had a 10 week residency at one of the most known rock venues in Melbourne, kept touring with releases and put out two albums in my tenure but the last of which I was a bit more checked out contributing a little less than I had on Tremors due to the lack of time I had juggling work, uni and the band. Though at the time I wasn’t too discouraged and was a little annoyed that I could put in so many less hours to writing sessions and still end up with nearly the same amount of contribution to the record musically as I had on the last record -though this was partly because there were some tracks on Tremors that were fully completed before I had joined on- I didn’t have any stand out songs that had started from my demos but there were a few that had main riffs that were my own and I think things just flowed a lot easier letting the band leader take more of the reigns and since we had been together for a few years things naturally came together with input from everyone more quickly than they had on the last record. Unfortunately I had to move to Mildura for placement as part of my degree and had technically played my last gig with the band before the release of that album ‘Mirror Lies’ but in the couple of weeks between finishing the sessions for that album and uprooting myself from the city I booked another session with my friend and followed up Mellofellow’s single recording my first release (technically too long for an EP but a pretty short album). Without being in Melbourne/with Greenthief a few less people got to hear the record than would have heard the single but it was still such a creatively fulfilling thing to be able to put out more of my music. It was a high that would keep me going through my year away from the city. To top things off I even had an made a record from start to finish over a weekend with a mate who had his own solo project Steve Tyssen (actually one of Greenthief’s previous drummers from before I had joined the band) who I had been playing with on the side over the last couple of years whenever he had a new album to release -the dude has made like 7 albums to date now its insane- but apart from that everything musically died down when I had moved out of the city. Still not a bad way to finish it all out, 2017 saw me drop 3 records in the one year! Oh yeah, and in December 2017 I put together a line up for Mellofellow in order to have a proper release gig for the record at a festival held by a friend of mine that was another amazing experience but ultimately the only time I have ever performed any of my tracks with a band.

2018-2019: Slowing down and songwriting revelations So after my whirlwind musical year of 2017 everything got a bit quieter. When I got back to Melbourne I was still playing in Steve’s solo project on keyboards and had slowly been working on tracks for a follow up to the first Mellofellow record, but Greenthief had disbanded while I was away after they released Mirror Lies with a hired gun bass player. I suppose things needed to die down though since the last semester of my course needed to be pretty much my sole focus. I actually started playing open mics again when I got the time, doing acoustic versions of Mellofellow tracks but I’ll admit that it more so confirmed my suspicions about the holes in my songwriting ability. It might have been from seeing Steve’s solo tracks work so well in an acoustic context, but there was an obvious drop in quality in the stuff I had written that was taken out when you removed the drums and guitar solos. While a couple of tracks worked alright stripped back, the majority of them failed to have the same punch without the groove of a full band rhythm section and with the focus being placed more on the lyrics I felt awkwardly naked and could see that at the end of the day my songwriting fundamentals left a lot to be desired particularly on the lyrical front. So I started trying to write songs primarily acoustic first with the goal of performing them at things like open mics and maybe even booking acoustic gigs with the knowledge that the songs could easily be expanded into full band tracks when it came to recording. This turned into more of a transitional period than I had hoped, partially not helped by the fact that after graduation I had to move back to rural Victoria for the first job I got out of uni in my chosen profession, which is an amazing but time demanding gig.

So I’ve got another 10 or so Mellofellow tracks in the chamber ready to record from the last couple of years that I’m heading in to the studio with next month but I don’t feel like I totally stuck the landing with the transition I was hoping to make, there are still a couple of tracks that wouldn't really work acoustically and if anything my realisation of my room for improvement lyrically has lead me to second guess a lot of the lyrical choices on these tracks to the point that I just want to finish them acknowledging their flaws and move on to the next record that I will make now that I am undertaking this whole process of honing my songwriting craft. That said there are some tracks I’m getting ready to record that I’m most proud of as a songwriter, songs that I hope are a sign of things to come. Either way I am excited to clear out my bottom drawer of songwriting to see what lies ahead. I’ve already made some big changes to the ways I write and I know things are going to get better.

#long post #songwriting #musical journey #started at the bottom #getting better #looking back #if you made it this far well done

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wildandfound · 7 years ago

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One would think visiting the Cariboo during the largest forest fire disaster to ever hit the province would be a big mistake. Yet, in the midst of burnout, both my own and the regions, the beauty of the Cariboo-Chilcotin landscape and the kindness of its residents made the experience one to remember.

I came into the Cariboo region via Prince George, after driving nearly 4000km from Whitehorse through the Yukon and a large portion of Alaska. A year prior I’d decided I wanted to hike the Berg Lake Trail at Mount Robson and, after hearing how beautiful the Cariboo was from a guy who grew up there, it seemed a natural place to visit.

The cutest welcome mural I’ve ever seen!

My plan was to drive from Prince George to Quesnel, south to William’s Lake, across Highway 24 (The Fishing Highway) to Wells Gray Provincial Park, up to Mount Robson for my hike and back to Prince George. It would be the perfect end to an epic 3 week trip, but I didn’t account for forest fires.

2017 was a devastating year for the region. Between April and November, more than 1300 fires burned over 1.2 million hectares of forest, displacing thousands of residents and costing the province 564 million dollars. It was officially the worst wildfire season in the history of British Columbia. Perfect time to visit, right?! 😉

I watched the fire reports and DriveBC’s road closure maps for weeks. Many of the parks were closed which was a bummer, but highways were opening where I needed them to be. I almost decided to fly home early, but the lure of the mountains and conversations about the Cariboo tugged at me.

Flying into Prince George, I got to talking to the guy beside me about my travel plans. There are a lot of places one can go in Northern BC and he seemed a little perplexed at that my first stop was going to be Quesnel. What was I missing?

It wasn’t until I left Prince George and made my way south, that I started to understand the mindset this man must have been in. He didn’t realize he was talking to a country girl who grew up in a rural farming community; similar to what you experience as you drive south.

I’m pretty sure my grandfather had that tractor.

To be quite honest, entering the Cariboo felt a little like coming home. Farmland, hay bales, pick up trucks, ATV’s. Find a country radio station on the dial and I’d be fit right in. This was exactly the kind of place I needed.

The massive gold pan, pick and shovel at Quesnel’s city limits, pretty much confirmed stories I’d heard about its strong connection to the Cariboo Gold Rush.

Welcome to Quesnel, the “Gold Pan City”.

You can’t really visit here without recognizing that they take great pride in their heritage. Murals adorn building facades and references to famed prospector, Billy Barker, abound. The city is small, but the area has a lot to offer.

Mural like this are all through town. Loved this.

Quesnel sits at the confluence of the Quesnel and Fraser Rivers. I took a walk along the Riverfront Trail, which was lovely and calming. I could watch it running for hours.

The largest wood truss walking bridge in the world.

The city is surrounded by over 30 historic sites, it is home to the largest wood truss walking bridge in the world, the award-winning Barkerville Brewing Company and its backyard boasts some of the best fishing and wilderness adventure spots in Canada.

Fraser River Bridge

A quick drive outside of town you’ll find Barkerville Historic Town and entrance to the world-renowned Bowron Lakes Canoe Circuit. If you like hockey, there’s quite a few former hockey greats living here too. My stay was going to be short, so I wanted to visit all of the above. And of course, my first stop had to be for a beer.

Welcome to Barkerville Brewing Company!

I first heard of Barkerville Brewing Company after watching an episode of Timber Kings while at my parents. I told myself that if I did make it to the area, I’d make sure I visited. Luckily for me, it was one of the few places open while I stayed in Quesnel.

Now that’s a table!

I envisioned a much larger brewery but, as they say, good things come in small packages. Ashley, the retail manager, gave me a warm welcome and set me up with a flight of their beers right away. This is definitely a favourite pastime when I’m travelling and Barkerville beer is pretty awesome. I wished I could have sent some home!

Not a wit girl, but everything else was stellar!

Shortly after I arrived, a regular patron, Carl, came in and we hit it off. It was really nice to have some company and he was game to chit-chat about Quesnel, our mutual passion for wine and his beloved Saskatoon berry wine. He was a wealth of knowledge and joy to spend time with. Truth be told, some of my favourite moments in the Cariboo are from sitting bar side at the brewery.

Long live (and bring back) this delicious licorice stout!

Carl and I shared a mutual appreciation for Barkerville Brewing Co.’s licorice stout. I’m a big fan out stout and this one was unlike anything I’ve ever had. Sadly, they had just discontinued it, but not before Carl and I were able to share a pint together.

I enjoyed my time at the Brewery so much that I ended up spending the better part of the afternoon there. Before I left I picked up some mementos and made sure to pay the bill to treat Carl for his company. I think it was a welcome surprise for him and that felt great.

If there is one thing that sticks out about my time in Quesnel, beside the huge tires on all the trucks in the grocery story parking lot (ha!), it’s the people. I can’t count the number of people who said hello to me on my walks through town, or at Granville’s while grabbing a coffee. It’s the kind of thing that makes a person want to return; which I plan to do next summer.

It came as no surprise to me when I returned from work a couple of months later to find a package from Carl with a special gift. Saskatoon berry wine, straight from the Cariboo!

Saskatoon Berry Wine!

The second place I’d heard a lot about what Barkerville Historic Town. I’d seen pictures and it looked so beautifully restored I wanted to check it out.

Barkerville owes its name to William “Billy” Barker, a famed prospector who hit gold in August of 1862 near where the town sits. Officially declared a National Historic Site of Canada in 1926, it is now home to over 125 buildings, museums, displays and shops and restaurants that make up Barkerville.

Barkerville Historic Town. A must visit in the area!

As soon as you walk out of the admission doors, you do feel a bit like you’re stepping back in time. The old church is wonderfully restored, horse-drawn stage coaches pass by carrying tourists and actors dressed in costume perform live scenes right in front of you.

The inside of the buildings hold old memorabilia and antiques. You can pan for gold or buy objects at the blacksmith shop, send a letter home from the post office, or have your picture taken in vintage costumes. If you’re a bit adventurous, you can even stay overnight a hotel or bed and breakfast in the middle of the town.

With a little imagination it’s easy to picture it brimming with miners and workers of the time.Notably the largest living-history museum in North America, Barkerville is definitely worth a visit if you’re in the area.

Outside one of the buildings in Baskerville. Loved the pop of yellow!

From Barkerville, I wanted to check out Bowron Lakes Provincial Park, famous for its 5 lake canoe circuit. The drive there was a fun twisty-turny adventure through the interior, trees hugging the roads on either side. I loved the lushness of this area, though it was strange to think that swaths of the region were facing massive destruction.

Enroute to Bowron Lakes. I didn’t get far into the park, but the drive was beautiful.

I was a bit disappointed upon arrival, as I expected something more like my home park, Algonquin. What I did come to accept is that the beauty of Bowron Lake requires a bit more effort, and as such, with a great deal of excitement, I intend to return to complete the full circuit in summer of 2019.

Good morning and goodbye, Quesnel. We’ll see each other again soon.

Having completed the few things on my bucket list, I decided to hit the road a bit earlier. The morning I left, I winds must have picked up, bringing with it hazy skies filled with smoke. It made for a beautiful moody sunrise as I headed south on Highway 97.

Felt like the Kawarthas, just south of Quesnel.

Areas between Quesnel and Williams Lake reminded me a great deal of my home region in the Kawartha. The Cariboo-Chilcotin area has such a diverse range of landscapes, it was truly a joy to drive through it.

Loved this view on Highway 97.

I honestly hadn’t researched a great deal about the landscape, so every bend in the road seemed to offer some kind of new picture worthy moment or scenic vista. I’d love to take a drive through here again, when I have more time.

Welcome to a very smokey, Williams Lake.

The more south I went the more think the smoke appeared. Never did I ever feel in danger, but it was evident that Williams Lake on the precipice of the danger zone. In the weeks prior, this city did face evacuation orders. It was the only place I actually witnessed fire ravaged tree trees from the roadside.

On the outskirts of town, I had the pleasure of seeing 5 deer running out of that charred forest and across the road. I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad for them. It was clear their homes had been destroyed and they were seeking refuge. Highway 97 was not ideal.

Mountains have their allure, but country-side does too.

Lac-La-Hache, about 45 minutes south of Williams Lake, was probably my favourite spot along Highway 97. I so wished my Dad was with me through this stretch.

Canada or Italy? Surreal beauty in Lac-La-Hache.

The land flattened out and it turned into some stunning farming landscapes. At times, I felt as though I could actually be driving through southern Italy. So incredibly pretty. I will be back to explore this area one day, for certain, as it’s never quite left my mind.

My dad would have been in his glory here.

It was after this stretch that the smoke got really bad again. To the point that I eventually closed off my car’s external air vent to re-circulate air inside. You could actually start to taste it in the air. I’m sure residents here are used to that smell, but I certainly wasn’t.

In order to get to Mount Robson, I needed access to BC’s Highway 24, to cut across the region. Luckily, authorities had opened this stretch the week prior, though I couldn’t go any further south of the junction where it met Highway 97 . I was pretty relieved to make it without any disruptions.

Highway 24 is also known as, “The Fishing Highway”. I was interested to learn it follows the same route once used by fur traders, then supported the transport of over 100,000 gold seekers and is now an important road for logging, ranching and tourism.

Known as “The Fishing Highway”, due to it providing access to over 100 fresh water lakes, it’s a beautiful stretch to drive through. The road itself is higher than I expected, so you’re not driving alongside many of the lakes, but there are some lovely view points along the way.

The drive across Highway 27 takes about an hour and a half, after which you come to another famous park called Wells Gray, just outside of Clearwater. Known as Canada’s “Waterfall Park”, it is home to over 39 waterfalls and counting – including this one…

That’s probably a good place for me to leave this post, but stay tuned for more on this stunning park, and why it made me believe that dinosaurs could actually have lived here.

Wild and Found

Cariboo-Chilcotin: Burnt out in the Land without Limits One would think visiting the Cariboo during the largest forest fire disaster to ever hit the province would be a big mistake.

#barkerville #Baskerville Brewing Company #beer #british columbia #canada #cariboo #caribou-chilcotin #DriveBC #gold rush #Historic site #quesnel #road trip #travel

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irltrexxx · 7 years ago

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wwoof day 1

oof what a day! it is officially my first day as a wwoofer.

i am currently laying in the bed of a bedroom that looks like it hasn’t changed since 2002. there are stacks of burned metallica and slipknot cds next to me and behind me is a shelf full of scifi and adventure novels in italian. there are posters for independence day, lost world (forgot about that movie), scream 2, and armageddon. i’m in the middle of the woods an hour outside of siena. i tried to find myself on google maps but i just got an error saying “can not determine your location.”

i arrived at podere campliano at about 6 pm today. my hosts are maddalena e claudio, husband and wife who run a small cheese farm. here they make 8 kinds of cheeses, including a few different types of pecorino, tomino, ricotta, and stracchino. maddalena told me on the drive here that they have about 60-70 sardinian sheep, and claudio told me at dinner that they sell at local markets, in local stores, and even supply one local restaurant.

to flash back to the beginning of my journey today:

i did not sleep well at all last night! it was a combination of nerves (livin with strangers in such close quarters is definitely going to be the hardest part of the trip for me) and loud noises that were all over my florence apartment (loud clock ticks, heater clicks, everything). so i woke up pretty sleepy and cleaned and packed. i had leftover salami for breakfast and a cup of coffee from the moka pot. i left the apartment at 10, check out time, and walked to santa maria novella. i figured i would go ahead and get to siena even if mattias (maddalena e claudio’s oldest son) wasn’t set to pick me up until 5:30. my backpacks aren’t very fun to carry around, and there wasn’t anything i felt like i still needed to see in florence. so i took a 11:10 train to siena and arrived there at 12:30.

i spent from 12:30-5:15 in the mall. it was good people watching, plus free wifi and charging stations! the mall is directly across from the main entrance of the train station, and next to a university for foreigners in siena (literal translation of name). on the first floor there were some shitty women’s clothing stores and cellphone kiosks, as well as a pam local supermarket. second floor was a sporting goods store, men’s clothing store, jewelry store, and prefumeria. third floor was food court: sushi, old west steakhouse (second i have seen), and piadineria. four floor was a set of crazy escalators and walkways that led to the outskirts of siena. i wandered up there to take a peek—probably the oddest escalator experience i have ever had!

so after exploring the mall i decided my best option for passing time was to grab some snacks at the grocery store and camp out. i bought a bresola, mozzarella, valerian green sandwich. i’ve never seen valerian greens eaten until this trip. tastes like baby spinach to me! the sandwich was what you would expect from a refrigerator section grocery store sandwich. i also splurged on a coke (i’ll be sippin this baby all week at the rate i’m drinking) and a bar of dark chocolate. i ate my sandwich in the sun outside and then joined in on the group competition to find a comfortable chair somewhere warm with an outlet next to it. i tried a few separate spots before settling down on the second floor by the profumeria. oh, also there’s a salon. so i watched people get their hair cut, read man in the high castle, and watched students from the foreigners school. this mall is definitely the hang out. i was by far not the only person to sit in that lobby for five hours. when i left to wait for mattias at the station i saw the same table of old men sitting in the same spot as when i walked in.

so i got outside at the prearranged time, and mattias promptly picked me up at 5:15. mattias works as a general electrician at a pharmaceutical company that is in siena (actually located across the street from the mall). he used to work as an appliance repair man for electrolux but he said it wasn’t worth all of the physical labor and driving to continue in that field. now he works for okay money from 9-5. he told me that unemployment and under employment are huge problems for youth in italy and he feels lucky to have the job he does. he rents an apartment in a VERY small village ~20 minutes from siena with his girlfriend. i know mattias is in his late 30s...girlfriend looks maybe 22? she works as a receptionist at a hotel 8/12 months a year. mattias little brother (whose bed i’m in, can’t remember his name) is a jack of all trades and his girlfriend is a yoga teacher who makes the rounds through all the small towns outside of siena.

anywho first we hit up mattias apartment because his mom had gone there to meet me half way. we had some tea and cake prepared by girlfriend, who i will get to spend more time with on wednesday. then we headed to maddalena and claudio’s house, which was probably another 25 minutes out. the drive was DARK and half of it was on an unpaved road. the nearest town is 15km away (don’t think i’ll be doing that walk often) and nearest neighbor is 5km away. two families live at the farm, although i haven’t met the other family. maddalena said right now the forest is full of wild boar, deer, and wolves 🐺🐗🦌.

when i got to the house maddalena gave me some slippers and told me to rest, so i went through all this guys books and cds. at 7:30 she served dinner: lentil and black kale soup. i was also given a sampler plate of 3 cheeses claudio makes and asked to tell them which was my favorite. it felt like a test! i was served a fresh pecorino that tastes very grassy and almost tart like lemons, a hard pecorino that was salty, and a tomino that i just googled today—it’s a piemontese cheese that’s small, creamy, and spreadable. i voted #1 tomino, #2 fresca, #3 duro. not sure if i passed claudio’s test. to drink i got to try some wine that their neighbors make, a red. it was very nice!

then we talked about how trump is dumb and the environment is changing and how italy is used to embarrassing politicians. we cleaned up a bit post dinner. their sink is incredible! i will have to get a photo. i think i offended everyone a bit when they told me not to wash dishes because they had a dishwasher and i said “WOW!” like they are country bumpkins but we are in the deep deep country. they said they don’t have wifi because none of the companies service their area.

then we sat around the fireplace and listened to leonard cohen while maddalena knitted, i read, and claudio rolled and smoked a cigarette and did the crossword puzzle. italians seem to really like crossword puzzles. then i decided to hit the hay so i could post this.

had a minor freak out because none of my adapters fit into these wall plugs, but found a third adapter to plug into my frankenstein chain of adapters so i can charge phone and tablet. it’s probably not very safe.

as mentioned in gurls group, photos will have to wait until i get to better wifi as being in the sticks is eating up my data!

it sounds like tomorrow our day will start at 8 (leisurely) with breakfast and then i will clean the caseficio (dairy) to prepare for wednesday’s cheese making. i also get to meet the sheep tomorrow!

until then 👋🏼

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rollingtsuchinoko · 7 years ago

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Tokyo is the bustling capital. Osaka is the wild port city. Kyoto is the former capital and now historic heart of Japan. Hiroshima, though, is the city that has captured my interest and heart.

Hiroshima from Hiroshima Castle.

Sure, Tokyo is one of the most famous and biggest cities in the world. It’s glitzy, trendy, and crowded. The last quality mentioned is what keeps it off the top of my list. I like going into the city for the day or night, but after negotiating the busy streets of Shibuya, Shinjuku, Asakusa, Iidabashi and other popular neighborhoods, I am ready to get back to my small commuter town on the outskirts of the city. Don’t even get me started on the trains. While they are not too bad during the day, around rush hour and for quite a few hours after, they can be quite unpleasant. Crowds just aren’t my thing.

Cherry blossoms in Tokyo. Massive crowds every year.

Osaka is a fun city. Much less crowded than Tokyo. I’ve only spent a few days there, but I enjoyed the city. The natives of Kansai have a bit of reputation for being, well, a bit wild. Of course, I hear this from people who have lived in Kansai most or all of their lives, so I think their bias is showing. There is a long-standing rivalry between the Kanto and Kansai regions. I’m not going to delve into that quagmire here. There has already been plenty written on the topic by people who are much more knowledgeable than I. Besides, that is not the point of this submission. All I will say is that I spent three fun days in Osaka and found the people to be very helpful and friendly. Every time I got off a train and even looked at a map I had an Osakan run up to me and offer to help me and even give me suggestions on what to see and where to go. I have never had that happen in Tokyo. Hell, I have had people practically run away from me when I asked for directions in Tokyo. Even though I enjoyed myself in Osaka, I haven’t felt the desire to go back.

Dotonbori area in Osaka.

Kyoto is definitely a place I need to revisit. I only had one day to spend in Kyoto and that is not nearly enough time to see everything there. I was able to hit most of the big spots, but I enjoy exploring the less crowded and out of the way places in cities just as much as the highlights. A city with as much history as Kyoto has stories to tell in every back alley and sidestreet.

Kinkaku-ji, one of the most popular buildings in Japan.

Hiroshima Memorial Peace Park from the Motoyasu River.

Hiroshima, for better or worse, is probably known to most as the site of the dawn of the nuclear age. While the A-bomb dome and Peace Memorial Park and Museum dominate most tourists to do lists, there is much more to Hiroshima than that dark time in human history. Obviously, if you do go to Hiroshima, you must see the park and go to the museum. I am convinced that anyone who visits the museum and sees the end results of atomic weapons will be in favor of destroying these weapons once and for all. The first time I went to the museum, it was possibly the quietest place I have ever been. The rooms were quite dark and visitors were surrounded by everyday items that survived the blast. Melted bottles, burned clothing, bubbled roof tiles, and a misshapen tricycle made for a somber atmosphere. The thought that a kid may have been on that tricycle when the bomb exploded and melted everything made of flesh within the blast radius cast a gloomy pall upon my mood. There was absolutely no conversation or a smile to be seen in the museum. Considering the subject matter, I think the curators got it just right.

The iconic A-bomb Dome.

However, I returned to the museum this summer and it had completely changed. The museum had undergone a complete renovation. Gone were the dark rooms and in their place were interactive computer screens, bright lights, and monitors showing old movie footage. I have to admit that there was a great deal more information on hand and I learned a lot of details that led up to the decision to drop the bomb. But the intimacy and somber atmosphere were completely gone. Kids were running around the place, tourists were making inane comments about travel saving the world and other nonsense that made it feel more like I was in an amusement park. While I still recommend going to the museum, I think the intent of being a voice for deterrence has been lost.

A-bomb Dome as seen through the Memorial Cenotaph.

Yes, the A-bomb dome and Memorial Peace Park are the dominant features of Hiroshima, but there is more to the city than that horrendous singular event. Hiroshima, along with the rest of Japan, has a long history. Not far from the Memorial Park is Hiroshima Castle. It is a small, but very nicely restored castle. It was built in the late 1500’s, destroyed by the atomic bomb, and rebuilt in 1958. It now serves as a museum to life in the Hiroshima area before the war. I am a huge fan of Asian castles. I just love the architecture and history behind them. The castle and grounds surrounding the castle are definitely worth a look. There is more history to experience just a short trip from Hiroshima. You can take a train and a ferry to Miyajima, home of the World Heritage Site Itsukushima Shrine.

姫路城

The famous “floating” torii of 徳島神社.

Itsukushima is probably best known for its floating torii. The gate, which you can walk right up to during low tide, shines in bright orange and is reflected in Hiroshima Bay at high tide. The entire shrine is built above the water but in the two times I have been there it was low tide so I have not seen the shrine “float.” The shrine is ancient. The first buildings were built in the 6th century. Of course, the original buildings are no longer standing, but to think that there has been a continuous presence at one site for 15 centuries kind of blows my mind. Maybe it is the American in me. There are very few sites that are more than a few hundred years old in my country. But in Japan, one can see something ancient in every city and town. The current design of the shrine goes back to the 12th century when the warlord Taira no Kiyomori provided funds to build the shrine. Kiyomori dedicated the shrine to the worship of goddesses he felt he owed thanks to for his successes in life. He must have been quite successful.

There is more to Miyajima than Itsukushima though. Mt Misen is considered one of the three views of Japan.

Hiroshima Bay from Mt Misen.

There are two ways to get to Mt Misen. One, you can hike all the way to the top. If you have the time and really like hiking, this may be the option for you. Two, and the option I chose both times is to take the ropeway and then take a 30-minute hike to the top of Mt Misen. I’m not averse to hiking per se, see my Mt Fuji and Fushimi Inari posts for proof, but both times I have been to Miyajima, I was fighting the clock. There are only so many hours in the day, ya know. The climb is worth for the stunning view of Hiroshima Bay and the Pacific Ocean in the distance. The bay is dotted with small islands and the oyster farms that supply Hiroshima with the delicious mollusks.

Watch out for snakes.

Speaking of oysters, the island is replete with shops serving oysters in a variety of ways. My personal favorite is a fried bread roll with two oysters in curry sauce stuffed inside. It’s probably the least healthy way to eat an oyster, but damn, it is soooo (yes, 3 extra o’s) good. I must confess though, I am not the best person to ask when it comes to food. When I travel, I tend to just kind of forget about eating until it is completely necessary. I’m not a foodie, hate that word by the way. Nor do I make it a point to try every bit of food that just happens to be in a certain country or city. So there may be better food out there, just don’t ask me for advice. All of my coworkers tell me I must try this or eat that when I go to X. Maybe it is a Japan thing. Upon hearing I was traveling to Hiroshima, I had a plethora of coworkers tell me that I must, MUST, eat okonomiyaki while in Hiroshima. I generally don’t cave to pressure, but I kind of felt like that if I didn’t try the Hiroshima okonomiyaki, I may lose my job.

Veni, vidi, voravi.

So, there it is. The famous okonomiyaki. I had the oyster with squid chips. Even though I had to wait about an hour, it was definitely worth the wait. I recommend you try out Nagata-ya. It is conveniently located right next to the Memorial Park. I’m not getting any money for this plug by the way.

If history and food aren’t your things, why are you in Japan? But really, if you don’t care about castles, shrines or food, then I highly recommend you check out Mazda Zoom Zoom Stadium to watch the local 9 play. The Hiroshima Carp are not just another diversion, they are more like a religion and Mazda Stadium is the temple.

The view from the visitors cheering section.

In the megacities of Tokyo and Osaka, there is an infinite number of ways to spend your entertainment Yen. Baseball fans in these cities also have a choice in which side they will pledge their allegiance. Tokyo has the Giants and Swallows. Osaka has the Buffaloes and Tigers. Hiroshima has the Carp and the Carp alone. On game days, the stadium is a veritable sea of red. There must be a city ordinance or unwritten rule that states fans must wear a jersey to the game or at the very least a red T-shirt. The fans pack the stadium all summer. In fact, it can be difficult to get a seat. Book ahead if you want to sit with the Carp fans. Failing that, you can sit with the visiting team fans in their section. The seats are fine, but you can’t wear Carp colors for obvious reasons, and it is just more fun to sit with the home fans.

Lucky to get a seat along 3rd base.

The gameday experience officially begins at Hiroshima station. Tables and booths pop up seemingly from out of nowhere. The variety of goods on offer is astounding. Hats, jerseys, scarves, fans and other items too numerous to list here. The one thing they all have in common is that they are red and emblazoned with the Carp logo. While some booths specialize in fan merchandise, the remaining specialize in food and beer. You could eat a five-course meal and get completely sloshed during the 1.5 km walk to the park. Even if you are not a fan of baseball, I guarantee you will have a great time at a Carp game. Japanese baseball is much more than just the game. The fans are completely engaged and are probably more exhausted than some of the players by the end of the game. If you get the chance, you really need to check out a game in Hiroshima.

There is much more to see in Hiroshima and I’m already planning next trip. If you do make it to Japan, you owe it to yourself to check out this picturesque city of just over 1 million. After the crush of Tokyo or Osaka, you will come to appreciate this more laid-back but fun city.

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Some shots of Daisho-in. There is said to be a flame that has been burning at this temple for more than 1200 years. The small statues are the disciples of Shaka Nyorai (The Buddha). Each of the 500 statues has a unique expression.

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広島 – My favorite city in Japan. Tokyo is the bustling capital. Osaka is the wild port city. Kyoto is the former capital and now historic heart of Japan.

#baseball #Fushimi Inari #Hiroshima #Itsukushima #Mt Misen #Travel

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