#i live in a big city in my 20s and still my biggest thrill is when a stranger on the net asks me some ff to read

[spiremire]

6 months in Interior Alaska

In August I moved 3500 miles north from Los Angeles-ish to Interior Alaska for a PhD program. This was the most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done and also one of the most exciting. When I talk to friends and family about having moved up here, it’s pretty clear they’re picturing me living in a cabin in the woods, fending off bears and somehow a university fits in there, somewhere. Like Alaskan Bush People, with a random college campus thrown in.

Sometimes, they’ve got the right idea. But never for the reasons they think. There’s lots of stuff that’s hard to get up here. That means everything purchased in the state of Alaska comes with a hidden shipping cost built into the market price of the item. When you’re paying nearly twice as much for fresh meat and produce in the stores than the folks living in the lower 48, it’s no question why so many locals turn to hunting and foraging to stock their pantries. Yes, even the ‘city folk’. (I live in the largest urban center in Interior Alaska, but there’s only like 33,000 people living in the city limits. I think that’s what most people would qualify as a small town.)

In terms of hunting and foraging, I wouldn’t even know where to start. No one is ever willing to share where their berry spots or mushroom spots are, and I can’t eat fish and have no interest in getting a hunting license for something bigger. I don’t even have hunting experience to make something larger feasible.

Regardless of price, there’s still some things that I just can’t get up here. Furniture stores like Ikea and Wayfair make no selfsame effort to get their products up here, not even for exorbitant shipping costs. (Usually you have to pay exorbitant shipping costs to a third party package forwarding service, or something similar, instead.) There’s a Target in Anchorage, but Anchorage is 7 hours away on a good (not icy) day. I’ve been making do with Wal-Mart, but it’s not the same and I’m not thrilled about it. Amazon usually charges extra for shipping, because I never buy anything on Amazon I can get in a store, and that usually ends up being weird, bulky items because I am perpetually unlucky.

Speaking of big grocery chains, we only have 4. We have Wal-Mart, Fred Meyer, Safeway, and Costco. These are all the biggest single stores I’ve ever seen in my life and have enough departments they’re almost individual mini-malls. Except the Costco. Costco is the same everywhere. I think I’ve already mentioned being afraid to go into the Wal-Mart and that I just use online order pick-up instead? Yeah. Yikes.

A related aside: Over spring break, which was a couple weeks ago now, we had a few researchers from Portugal visit us so they could get samples at a few of the thermokarst lakes nearby, and they had a pretty miserable mishap with their luggage where all their clothes got lost in Frankfurt, Germany (their first connection), but all their sampling materials arrived just fine. So we ended up taking them to Wal-Mart to get them a few basics, and they’d never been in a Wal-Mart. They also found it entirely overwhelming and I feel vindicated. Anyway.

The familiar-national-chain pickings are slim, whether I’m looking for groceries, fast-food, or another specialty store. This isn’t to say that everything I need isn’t available. Because it is. If you can’t get it for closer-to-lower-48 prices at a national chain store, you can definitely get it from some local supplier. Only problem is, the local suppliers can charge whatever they want, because there’s no competition. Is that good for them? Yes! Absolutely. I love small businesses, and I love that this area allows them to thrive. Is it good for me? Hell no. I don’t make enough as a student to justify going out to eat more than once a month, or once every two months if I’m going to a sit-down restaurant, where the cheapest plate is somewhere between $20-25. Which is rough.

But I don’t only have complaints! There’s so many things I love about here, so far, and in the big picture, I feel like my complaints don’t even begin to outweigh the benefits. I’ve gotten a million opportunities I’d never have gotten anywhere else to do cool stuff. I got to go ice climbing, touch three million year old dirt at the bottom of a permafrost tunnel, see so many excellent showings of aurora borealis, dodge moose and bears and caribou with my car, feel -45F, or experience a full 24 hours of darkness.

I’m having a blast, but sometimes the little things make me feel more like I’m living in the woods. (Don’t get me started on the dry cabin situation up here.)

A lot of it can be mitigated by simply going to these places while I’m visiting my family in the lower 48, but I only see them once a year because I’m so busy and flights are so expensive.

[carriescolumns]

Twenty-Something Girls vs. Thirty-Something Women

Vacation time in the Hamptons! The sun, the sand, the sea, and of course, my favorite girls — Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. We’ve been coming to the Hamptons for years, and it’s always a highlight of our summer.

But this year, something was different. We were no longer the youngest women in the room. As we soaked up the sun, we couldn’t help but notice the group of 20-something girls next to us, living it up and having the time of their lives. It was like a mirror into our younger selves.

That week back in the city, I wondered: what was the allure of the 20s? On one hand there’s great skin tone, the thrill of fresh experience, and a sense of a consequence-free life full of seemingly endless possibilities. While on the other there are horrible apartments, sexually inexperienced men, and embarrassing errors in fashion judgement.

Should we fear these freshly-minted single women as a threat to our very survival? Or pity them as clueless half-wits about to get their dreams dashed and illusions shattered? Twenty-something girls. Friend… or foe?

For starters, 20-something girls are carefree and spontaneous, while 30-something women have responsibilities and concerns. They’re focused on their careers, their families, and their finances. But that doesn’t mean we’re not having fun. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. We’ve learned to appreciate the moments of leisure and let loose when the time is right.

Another difference is that 20-somethings are still figuring out who they are and what they want, while 30-somethings have a clearer understanding of their priorities and desires. We’ve learned what we want and what we don’t want, and we’re not afraid to stand up for ourselves.

Samantha always felt like she was in her twenties until the sight of an actual 20-something brought her back down to earth. Twenty-something girls are all about the party, while 30-something women are about the connections. We value our relationships and the memories we make with the people we love. We know how to have fun, but we also know how to appreciate the small moments and cherish the memories we create.

Back in the Hamptons the next weekend, the girls and I watched 20-something girls roast in the sun like rotisserie chickens while we lathered on SPF 45. We couldn’t help but feel grateful for where we are in our lives. We’ve learned, we’ve grown, and we’ve become the confident, independent women we are today.

I began to realize then that the biggest threat twenty-something girls posed was to themselves. Annoying, yes. Dangerous, no. They were simply our youthful doppelgängers who needed our compassion more than anything. But then everything I so firmly believed was promptly blown to pieces. Twenty-something girls are just fabulous, until you see one with the man who broke your heart.

You see, Big and I have a complicated history. We’ve been through ups and downs, and just when I thought we were finally on the same page, he goes and starts dating someone who could be his daughter. It’s like a punch to the gut, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s moved on for good this time.

It’s easy to judge and feel insecure when seeing an ex with someone younger. Society often portrays youth as being synonymous with beauty and vitality, making us question our own worth. But the truth is, age is just a number and what really matters is the connection and compatibility between two people.

I can’t help but think about our past and all the memories we shared. Was I not enough for him? Did he need someone younger and more energetic? These questions are like a broken record in my head, but I know deep down that I need to let go of them. I need to focus on my own life and what makes me happy.

In the end, seeing an ex with a much younger woman can be a moment of growth and self-reflection. It can provide an opportunity to assess our own priorities and desires in a relationship, and to appreciate the unique qualities that we bring to the table.

So, instead of focusing on competing with younger women for the attention of men, let’s focus on embracing our own unique qualities and strengths. By doing so, we can attract the right person into our lives and build relationships that are based on mutual respect, understanding, and love. Let’s raise a Cosmo to ourselves, embrace our individuality, and celebrate the lessons that come from every encounter in this wild and wonderful city.

[how-mytearsricochet]

she’s a ten but she do only feels alive when someone asks her fanfic recommendations

[stewblog]

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings more or less immediately became one of my favorite movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Some of this is due to it being one of the best American-made martial arts movies I’ve ever seen. Some of this is due to it delivering some incredibly cool moments and imagery, the likes of which we haven’t really seen much of in the MCU, much less in American filmmaking in general these days. But it’s due also in large part to the fact that the movie is consistently fun, funny, brimming with exhilarating action scenes and moves like a rocket. It’s just a genuinely great time at the movies and I found myself grinning from ear to ear for most of its (just over) two hour runtime. There are more than 20 MCU movies, and while I highly enjoy most of them, it definitely felt like it was time for Marvel to deliver something different than yet another costumed superhero outing. And that’s precisely what’s been done here with Shang-Chi giving audiences a straight-up kung fu adventure film.

In a way, the excellence of Shang-Chi as an action movie is bittersweet. The action scenes were designed and shot by Brad Allan, a brilliant martial artist who spent years as a member of Jackie Chan’s personal stunt team. He had truly come into his own as an action designer and choreographer but met an untimely death about a month before this film’s release. What he delivered here alongside director Destin Daniel Cretton is some of the most impressive hand-to-hand action I’ve seen in an American action film.

Marvel movies have had plenty of exciting and fun action scenes but, as is the case with so many Western films, the performers simply lack the training and capability to convincingly pull off what is shown off with aplomb in many Asian films. That is absolutely not the case here thanks to the exceptional skill shown off by the likes of Simu Liu, Tony Leung, Michelle Yeoh and nearly every other actor who throws hands (and feet). Allan may be gone, but he left a heck of a legacy on-screen here and it is absolutely exhilarating to watch. Capable, highly trained actors being filmed in wide shots without an excess of editing to cover up their inadequacies makes for exciting cinema. Who knew?!

Though it is brimming with excellent action, the heart of Shang-Chi is actually found in the familial drama driving the plot. Shaun (Liu) is a fairly typical 20-something in San Francisco. He’s mostly content to work his day job as a parking valet with his best friend, Katy (Awkwafina) before spending their nights carousing and doing karaoke. But after Shaun kicks the living tar out of a group of henchmen, including a guy with a literal sword for an arm, on a bus, Katy demands to know who her lifelong friend actually is. Turns out his real name is Shang-Chi and he’s actually the son of a history-defining warlord who’s been alive for thousands of years thanks to ten powerful, magical (possibly alien) rings who trained Shaun since childhood to be an assassin. Ya know, normal stuff.

Shang-Chi’s dad, Wenwu (Leung), thinks he’s found a way to enter the mystical, ancient city his wife hailed from. Though she died more than a decade ago, Wenwu is certain he’s heard her voice calling to him to set her free from captivity. Though he’s willing to fight and kill to do so, Wenwu mostly just wants to reunite his family, and he especially wants his son to take up the mantle of leading the Ten Rings, his millennia-old crime organization.

Shang-Chi is, as expected, not too hip to his abusive father’s plans, but there still clearly resides in him a desire to be loved and accepted by Wenwu. It’s that push and pull between the light and dark within him that drives Shang-Chi’s emotional journey as he slowly comes to realize he can’t ever fully run from or hide his lineage, try as he might.

Liu has been acting for the better part of a decade (I really need to check out Kim’s Convenience) but this is without question his breakout performance and he handles leading man duties well. He’s handsome and funny, and though his charisma is somewhat low-key, he’s able to project enough stoic gravitas that you can always get a sense of what he’s feeling. If nothing else, he’s primed for a string of action roles based on how superbly he pulls off each fight scene. It’s always thrilling to watch a performer pull off their own stunts and fight moves, but Liu brings a very visible energy to his combat.

The real treat here, though, is watching Tony Leung make his Big Hollywood Debut. Leung is one of China’s biggest movie stars and he’s given more than enough incredible performances in truly amazing films to cement his status as one of the all-time great actors. But there’s something uniquely fun seeing him not just let loose in a big budget blockbuster, but to do so and not water down his trademark intensity. Leung’s greatest skill has always been his ability to communicate so much with just his eyes, and that intensity and passion is on full display here. Whatever shortcomings the script might have barely matter because Leung tells you everything you need to know about Wenwu with just a look.

If there’s a major shortcoming here it’s that there are elements of the script that feel notably undercooked. In particular there’s a moment before the big finale where Shang-Chi is brooding over his father’s treatment of him as a child, questioning whether or not he’s still just the assassin he was raised to be. It feels like something from a different version of the script where that self-doubt played a much larger part than what made it to screen.

And, as seems contractually obligated in these movies, the climax culminates with a lot of Typical CGI Nonsense. Though at least here that Typical CGI Nonsense is delivering a look at some mythical beasties and imagery that we don’t often get in these sorts of movies.

None of those frustrating elements (not even the often horribly glaring use of green screen composite shots) detracts enough from the experience to make this anything less than a total blast to watch. I’ve come to accept that most Marvel movies are simply going to have frustrating or undercooked elements to them in one way or another. But even grading on that curve, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings still manages to feel like a complete, thrilling package, one that I can’t wait to watch again.

Author’s Note: If you walk out of Shang-Chi jonesing for some more Tony Leung, check out The Grandmaster if you want more of him doing kung fu. Watch In the Mood for Love if you want one of his best, most internalized acting performances. And watch Hard Boiled if you want to see him co-star in one of the greatest, most over-the-top action movies ever made.

[grigori77]

Summer 2021′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 1)

The Runners-Up:

20.  LUCA – I’ll admit I really wasn’t sold on Disney/Pixar’s coming-of-age fantasy comedy, which revolves around a pair of young sea monsters living off the coast of the 1950s Italian Riviera, who discover they can assume human form when they dry out and go on land on a quest of discovery.  Thankfully the strong reviews convinced me to give it a chance – this is a frothy and irreverent romp through an exotically nostalgic world filled with Vespas, pasta-eating contests and found families that’s fun for kids of all ages.

19.  FAST & FURIOUS 9 – the high concept action franchise may be bursting under the ever-increasing weight of its own ludicrousness, but it’s still TONS of fun, packed with stunning over-the-top action, colourful globe-trotting and a loveable bunch of misfits we’ve grown incredibly fond of over the past TWENTY YEARS.  This time Dom (the irrepressible Vin Diesel) and the team are up against ruthless hi-tech mercenary Jakob (John Cena), a lethal jack-of-all-trades with a dark connection to the Toretto name.

18.  REMINISCENCE – Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy’s attempt to make it on the big screen looks set to go down as one of the biggest cinematic flops of 2021, which is a shame because the feature-debuting writer-director has crafted a genuinely fascinating speculative sci-fi noir detective thriller.  Set in a darkly dystopian future in which Global Warming has caused the sea levels to rise and society to start breaking down, it tells the story of Nick Bannister (Hugh Jackman), a former soldier who ekes out a living using revolutionary tech to help the idle rich relive their fondest memories, until a life-changing mystery from his own past resurfaces, threatening to tear his whole world apart.  Frustratingly, it looks like most audiences are going to bypass this, which is a criminal loss.

17.  FREE GUY – after a seven year hiatus, Night at the Museum director Shawn Levy returns to the big screen in fine form with this deliriously inventive fantastical comedy adventure about Guy (a typically on-fire Ryan Reynolds), an NPC in an anarchic, Grand Theft Auto style MMORPG called Free City who discovers his own sentience after falling in love with Millie (Killing Eve’s Jodie Comer), a player with a hidden agenda that puts them both at odds with the game’s nefarious creator, Antwan (a thoroughly hilarious Taika Waititi).

16.  EVANGELION 3.0 + 1.01: THRICE UPON A TIME – visionary anime creator Hideaki Anno brings his long-running sci-fi saga to a close with this fourth instalment to his wildly ambitious cinematic “Rebuild” of cult TV series Neon Genesis Evangelion. It’s as frothy, melodramatic and bonkers as ever, packed full of weighty themes and crazy ideas, while the animation maintains this series’ ridiculously high levels of quality and the action is as explosive as ever, and Hideaki brings the whole mad mess to a climax that’s as rich, powerful and thoroughly befuddling as the saga deserves.

15.  THOSE WHO WISH ME DEAD – Sicario writer Taylor Sheridan returns to the director’s chair (after impressive debut Wind River) with this intense and enthralling suspense thriller adapted by bestselling author Michael Koryta (along with Sheridan and Blood Diamond’s Charles Leavitt) from his own acclaimed novel. Angelina Jolie is (ahem) fiery but fallible as haunted smokejumper Hanna Faber, whose PTSD drives her to protect a desperate boy (Finn Little) who’s being hunted through the wilds of Montana by a pair of relentless assassins (Aidan Gillen and Nicholas Hoult).

14.  CRUELLA – far from the clunky cash-in retcon many were predicting, Disney’s ambitious black comedy crime caper does a thoroughly admirable job in delivering this fascinating and deeply compelling reimagining of the story of rogue fashion designer Cruella de Vil (one of the best performances I’ve ever seen Emma Stone deliver, hands down), the dastardly villainess of 101 Dalmatians. She’s certainly far more complex here, no longer a raging monster, but far from a whitewashed PC apologist, either, much more of a morally grey antihero with a very wicked dark side – then again, with I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie at the helm it’s not really a surprise.  Richly designed and dripping in spectacularly adventurous period detail, this is an divine romp from start to finish.

13.  THE GREEN KNIGHT – the latest feature from writer director David Lowery (Ain’t Them Bodies Saits, Pete’s Dragon, The Old Man & the Gun) is as offbeat and unusual as you’d expect from a visionary filmmaker with such a wildly varied CV.  Adapting the fantastical chivalric romance Sir Gawain & the Green Knight, he’s crafted what’s surely destined to be remembered as the year’s STRANGEST film, but it’s a work of aching beauty and introspective imagination that sears itself into the memory and rewards the viewer’s patience despite its leisurely pace.  Dev Patel is unbearably sexy and wonderfully complex as Gawain, while Sean Harris delivers show-stopping support with stately charisma and world-weary integrity as King Arthur.  This film is sure to divide opinions as well as audiences, but I think it’s a bona fide masterpiece that must be seen to be believed.

12.  CANDYMAN – after watching this wildly imaginative and frequently gut-wrenching soft-reboot/sequel to Bernard Rose’s acclaimed adaptation of Clive Barker’s short story The Forbidden, I feel supremely confident about emerging writer-director Nia DaCosta’s coming MCU breakout with The Marvels.  Wisely papering over the clunky previous sequels, this streamlined trailblazing deep dive into the pure horror of the legend of the righteously mad spectral killer haunting the Chicago housing ghetto of Cabrini-Green sees a daring modern artist (Aquaman’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) find his latest project turning into a dangerously self-destructive obsession. Writer-producer Jordan Peele’s fingerprints are all over this, but DaCosta clearly shows signs that she’s going to be a hell of a talent to watch in the future.

11.  THE WITCHER: NIGHTMARE OF THE WOLF – I wouldn’t normally shout about an animated spinoff to a TV series like this, but I was SO INSANELY IMPRESSED with this brilliant prequel to Netflix’ popular fantasy show (which clearly intends to lay some origin story groundwork for the impending second season) that I just can’t help myself. Recounting the backstory of Geralt of Rivia’s own Witcher mentor Vesemir, this beautifully expands on the already compelling universe the series has created, as well as delivering some breath-taking thrills and chills through some of the most exquisite cell animation I’ve ever seen outside of the greats of anime.  A must-see for Witcher fans, then, but one I’d also highly recommend to anyone who likes their animation a bit more grown-up and edgy.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Hello. I am, as you know, an American. I turned eighteen in 2014, voted in my first presidential election in 2016, and voted in my second presidential election last week via early voting in the state of Texas. 

I’m reflecting right now on the difference between those experiences. This is going to be a very self-indulgent essay. 

The 2016 election was in my third and final year of undergrad at Texas A&M University. At the time, I was living with a roommate who grew up in a town of 2,000, all of them members of her church. I loved her very much, but she was the most sheltered person I’ve ever met. 

I was only a few years ahead of her. My home growing up was deeply liberal about many of the things that counted, but deeply conservative on equally important things. For me, leaving for college was a radicalization speed-run.

I, a good Memphis girl, moved to Texas and encountered for the first time in my life white homogeny and everything that comes with it. I made most of my friends at A&M through a Christian orientation camp that I attended, then worked at. I went to school at a history department that was overwhelmingly male and war-obsessed. 

My second semester, I was randomly sorted into a writing seminar on the American Civil War and Reconstruction. There were eight other students in that class, all of them Texans. By day two I had gotten into a open fight with one of my classmates after he used the phrases “one of the humane parts of slavery” and “the secession declarations are moving and beautiful appeals, if you read them,” and “well I’m not going to criticize my own state.”

We got into at least one yelling match per week from that point forward. It was a formative experience for me-- not just him but the seven other students that took his side every time because they just couldn’t conceptualize anything outside of their own experiences, and frankly, I couldn’t either. 

It rocked my world to be surrounded by people who told me, among other things, that their high schools flew the Confederate battle flag or Lee was their all time role-model (because he actually didn’t want to secede! He didn’t believe in it, but Virginia did, so he put his own qualms aside and served his country, and that’s what we all have to do). I ran a survey once by knocking on every door in a dorm hall and asking the two people inside why the Civil War happened. 

I feel like you can guess the most common answer I got. Only two said slavery. Six didn’t know what the Civil War was. 

The last week of the semester, my class read a collection of recorded oral accounts of freed slaves during Reconstruction. My nemesis told me that he “didn’t realize black people actually had it bad.” At the same time, I was struggling with my sexuality, my relationship to my religion, my relationship with my parents, and a handful of newly-diagnosed but long-existing mental illnesses. I wasn’t having fun. 

Over the next three years, I tried my hardest to humanize the people that said disgusting things about minorities, poverty, and me personally. I barely won on that one, and I’m actually really proud that I did, even if it took me a few years. I can trace the biggest change in me directly to my nemesis from the history department, the kid that made me so mad that I started arguing back. I was too scared to do that before. 

By 2016, I was in full existential spin-out-- a very suddenly liberal kid fighting my whole family, all of my classmates, and most of my friends in an explosive political climate, the first I had ever participated in. 

I voted by Tennessee absentee ballot in 2016. On election night, I ordered takeout for me and my roommate, who I knew had voted red. Confident, like pretty much everybody, that Clinton would win, I was trying to show her that I didn’t hate her. She went to bed after dinner, also so certain that Clinton would win that she didn’t bother to stay up. 

I sat in front of my laptop sewing a birthday present for a friend (Kenza, actually), while the votes came in. I wasn’t super alarmed when the map turned red. I just figured the blue states hadn’t finished counting yet. 

The map didn’t get any bluer. By 1am, I knew what was about to happen. They called it an hour later, while I was sobbing on my floor. I threw up in the bathroom out of pure anxiety. I got two anonymous messages telling me the asker was going to commit suicide. Neither of them responded to my replies. I don’t actually know what happened to them. 

I remember riding the bus to class the next morning and distinctly seeing that most of the racial minorities there had swollen eyes from crying. The girl with the pride stickers all over her laptop didn’t show up that day, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t, considering the way some of our classmates in the back were loudly talking about “the gays.” Hope she’s okay.

My roommate came home completely unaware that Clinton lost. I was crying in my room when that happened. I remember showing her a demographic map of who voted which way. She got visibly upset when she figured out what races how. I think she really did feel guilty. 

That Thanksgiving, one of my cousins tweeted, “I can’t wait to go argue with my liberal cousin today. The wins. Keep. Coming,” an hour before he walked into my house. Inauguration day was January 20, 2017. I decided to go to law school a week later, the day the president signed the Muslim ban. That’s when I figured out for the first time just how much power the courts have. The last three years have only enforced that. 

I got angrier and angrier during law school, egged on by a few friends but more than anything just... finally conscious of exactly how the American system works and exactly who’s behind it. I still live in Texas, farther west now, and I’m working my first legal job. I’m going to be a licensed attorney next week. 

I went back and forth for months about how this election was going to shake out. I knew there wasn’t going to be an overwhelming red majority this time, but my big fear was an election close enough that the Supreme Court could take it. That fear doubled last month, at RBG’s death. 

I was hoping for a blue enough victory on election night that there wouldn’t be a week of uncertainty, but that was unlikely, and it didn’t happen. I obsessively refreshed my election map all of Wednesday and Thursday, aware that at least some states would flip after mail-in ballots came in, but unsure which would. 

Again, my great fear was a blue victory held down by only one state. Given (I would say “any” chance here, but I don’t mean “any” chance because genuinely jurisdiction or facts or legal merit don’t matter to the Supreme Court) an opportunity to make one (1) decision that hands over a red election, please know that a conservative supermajority would take it. I cannot emphasize enough how true that is and how important it is for all of us to grasp that. 

Watching Georgia flip was one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s a little hard for me to articulate why, but I’m going to give it a shot here. I’m southern. I’m from the South, and for this conversation it’s really important that I’m from Memphis, a black city and a center of black music and culture. 

When people think about the South, they think of the white South, and on some level, they should. It is absolutely essential to understand the white South in order to understand American history. Let me be 100% clear here. That is not a good thing. American majority history is not good. We are not a good country. 

It’s near-impossible to understand why that’s true without knowing exactly what happened in the white South and exactly what is still happening there now. With that, however, is another truth that most folks don’t get. 

The SouthTM is white and needs to die. The South as it actually exists is partially white yes, but it is also everyone else that lives here, particularly black folks. Southern culture is black, not white. Georgia flipped because the people that have always, always been there finally got to crack apart the conservative machine holding the South hostage. 

That’s amazing. It’s fucking mind-blowing. I watched it happen at 3:30 in the morning days after Election Day, and holy shit holy shit, Georgia flipped. Atlanta won. Holy fucking shit. 

I would be terrified right now if only Georgia flipped, because SCOTUS would have found a way to throw out a few thousand votes. Inevitable. Absolutely certain on that one. 

With a few states of buffer, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I really do think it’s over. 

I came home after work on Friday and immediately went to sleep because I hadn’t really done that since Tuesday. I woke up at noon today, checked the map, checked my messages, and saw what happened while I was gone. After that, I went back to bed until 5:30pm. I’m really just getting up now, after most of 24 hours asleep. 

I don’t know if I would say that I’m happy right now, but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’m under no illusions that a Biden victory will solve everything, but I also do think this is a real thing to celebrate. I’ll take suggestions on how to celebrate right now, actually, since I’m finally awake. 

I’ll be angry forever, I think, but this is a good thing, and I’d like to enjoy it. If you’re happy right now, hey, tell me about it. I’ll be thrilled with you. I want to hear it. Congrats to all of us. Love y’all. 

[fycarmensandiego]

A chat with author Melissa Wiley

In 1996, HarperCollins published six Carmen Sandiego chapter books, featuring VILE villains from the then-current "Deluxe"/"CD-ROM"/"Classic" generation of computer games and a new lineup of Acme agents, headed by a Black female Chief (Lynne Thigpen ha impact), and focusing on kid detectives Maya and Ben.

The series included two books each by two writing teams and one solo act, Melissa Peterson. I got in touch with Melissa, who now uses the pen name Melissa Wiley, and she graciously answered some questions about writing the Carmen books and beyond.

To get you caught up to my knowledge before the interview, here's Melissa's website, and here's her bio as printed in the two Carmen books (accompanied by the caricature above):

Melissa Peterson is the author of several books for young readers. Born in Alamogordo, New Mexico, she has lived in eight different states and visited Germany and France. She has never ridden a dolphin, but she did eat a great deal of sour cherry ice cream outside the cathedral in Cologne. [Note: These are both references to plot points in Hasta la Vista, Blarney.] Her research for Hasta la Vista, Blarney included many hours playing Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? An official ACME Master Detective, she lives in New York City with her husband and young daughter.

FYCS: Thanks so much for agreeing to this interview.

Melissa Wiley: What a fun blast from the past! The Carmen books were my first professional writing gig and I had so much fun working on them.

That's so exciting to hear! With that being the case, how did you get involved with the books?

I was an assistant editor at HarperCollins, working for the wonderful Stephanie Spinner. I started out as her editorial assistant at Random House right after grad school and moved to Harper with her a year later, shortly after [my husband] Scott and I got married. Stephanie knew that I wanted to be a writer, and she often sent in-house writing assignments my way (lots of cover copy). When I left Harper in 1995 to have a baby, Stephanie recommended me for several book assignments, including the two Carmen Sandiego novels. That project had been underway for several months—Harper was doing a tie-in with the game and TV show. There were six books in total; two were assigned to me and four went to other writing teams [Ellen Weiss and Mel Friedman, and Bonnie Bader and Tracey West]. I often joke that I got my first modem, my first baby, and my first book deal in the same month!

I loved working with my Carmen Sandiego editor, Kris Gilson. The two books were a blast to write and a great learning opportunity for me. Ellen Weiss remains a good friend of mine. She's a true gem of a person!

Have your experiences writing the Carmen books influenced your work since then?

With Carmen, I discovered how much I love writing humor. Before that (in grad school), my poems and stories were on the serious side. I had so much fun with the playful, sometimes goofy tone of the Carmen Sandiego books that I definitely shifted afterward to more of a focus on humor in my books. I still find writing from a place of playfulness to be my most satisfying kind of work.

Were you familiar with Carmen Sandiego before writing the books?

I loved the computer game! I'd seen several episodes of the show—it's all a bit blurry now and hard to say which I encountered first—and really enjoyed it, but I especially loved the game. Instant classic!

How much guidance did you receive from HarperCollins / Brøderbund? Were the plots your own, or were you given plot outlines?

We were given the basic descriptions for the two kid detectives, and I had a couple of meetings with the editors and the other writers to flesh out the characters a bit more—give them personalities. I don't think Mel was in the meetings, but Ellen was there, and Tracey and Bonnie.

Then I wrote outlines for my two books and the other writers outlined theirs. I was assigned one "Where in the World" mystery and one "Where in Time" mystery. I think I submitted several plot ideas for each—the big challenge was thinking up interesting objects for Carmen and her henchmen to steal. The Blarney Stone and cocoa beans were my favorite ideas and I was thrilled that they got picked!

How did you research the books?

Those were AOL days, and the web wasn't yet a place for intensive research, so I spent a lot of time in the library. For The Cocoa Commotion, I conducted phone interviews with staff members at the Hershey chocolate factory—lots of fun. But I never did get to visit the Blarney Stone!

What was your favorite part of working on the books?

Researching the history of chocolate! Naturally I had to do a lot of sampling in order to describe it properly. ;)

Your author bio in the books mentions that the scene in which Maya and Ben eat sour cherry ice cream in Cologne, Germany was inspired by an actual experience of yours. Did any other experiences of yours make it into the books? Have you had any other travel experiences that notable? (Note: I'm originally from Northern Michigan, so travel experiences involving tart cherries are a high bar to clear for me.)

Ohhh, that sour cherry ice cream! I hope I get to taste it again someday. Apart from eating a lot of chocolate, I can't remember any other personal experiences that informed the books. If I were to write one today, I'd make sure to set a scene in Barcelona. My husband and I spent a week there in 2008 and it was an incredible trip. The paella! The Gaudí buildings! Art on every corner! I'd love to go back someday.

The bio also features a caricature of you with your baby daughter...

That drawing was made by the brilliant comic book artist Rick Burchett, who was working with Scott on Batman comics at the time. Scott was an editor at DC Comics and Rick was one of his favorite artists to work with. When I needed a bio illustration for the Carmen Sandiego books, we commissioned Rick to draw it. I love that piece so much! The baby is my oldest, Kate, who was born right around the time I started working on the books. We still have the original art!

You've written over 20 children's books for a variety of ages, in a variety of genres. Do you have any favorites among them?

That's so hard to say—I'm fond of all of them and I dearly loved creating worlds and adventures for Charlotte and Martha in my Little House prequels—but The Prairie Thief and The Nerviest Girl in the World are extra-special to me. I grew up in Aurora, Colorado and had a summer job at a wildlife refuge on the prairie, a landscape that served as the setting for Prairie Thief. I loved getting to weave secrets into the prairie setting that means so much to me.

Your most recent book, The Nerviest Girl in the World, was published last August. Can you tell us a bit about why you wrote it?

I lived for 11 years in La Mesa, California, a small town just outside San Diego. While I was there, I learned that in the very early days of silent film, there had been a film studio in town. Eventually the studio moved to Santa Barbara, but it was exciting to discover that before Hollywood was the center of the American film industry, little old La Mesa was a moviemaking place. I began reading everything I could find about the studio, and when I learned that many of the cowboys in those early Westerns were real cowboys and ranchers, an idea for a book began to take shape—the story of an adventurous girl who stumbled into work as a daredevil film actress along with her cowboy brothers.

Of course, I'm legally compelled to ask the question that literally every interview currently includes: how has the pandemic changed your job?

LOL! Yes, it's the question right now, isn't it! Well, I've worked at home since the Carmen Sandiego days, and I homeschool my kids, so in the biggest ways our lives weren't hugely affected by the shutdown. But I used to do a lot of my writing in cafés, and I miss that like crazy! I had to think up all sorts of new strategies for staying focused at home this past year. I'm hoping to get back to the coffee shops this summer!

Something I found really interesting is that you have a Patreon, which you explain you started to help pay for medical bills. How has that experience affected your work as an author?

I've played with lots of kinds of content on Patreon and really enjoy having a space to share behind-the-scenes stories. It's a more intimate and personal space than social media, so I feel free to let my hair down and be really frank.

Thanks so much for these fantastic questions! I had so much fun reminiscing about the Carmen Sandiego adventure!

[dreamtiwasanarchitect]

Tagged by @ceraunos <3 list the first line from your last 20 fics + choose your favourite opening line

blooming through the cracks | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E (WIP)

“Booker,” Joe yells over the weird techno-jazz that’s pumping in from the speakers, “what the fuck is this place?”

if you’re willing to choose | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

The fighting had been going on for nearly three days. Yusuf had managed to stay alive thus far, which came as a surprise to him as much as anyone else—before his king had called on every able-bodied man to join the fight, he’d been a merchant and had never held a sword in his life.

brand new start | TOG, Joe/Nicky, M

Like always, Nicky is cooking dinner, and like always, it smells delicious.

the biggest con in history | Trust, gen, T

“Get out!” Jutta screamed.

blurring the lines between real and the fake | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

Nicky’s alarm goes off at eight a.m. For him, it’s not an unreasonable hour—especially not for a Sunday—but Joe is already grumbling into his pillow.

easy money | Trust, Paul/Primo, E

“Get your feet down,” Primo tells him.

never happens like you think it should | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

By the time he arrives at his uncle’s ostentatious villa, Nicky is thoroughly agitated, both from the various minor indignities he suffered on his fourteen-hour flight, and from the more glaring indignity of being summoned here in the first place.

set it spinning hand in hand | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

“My love,” Nicolò moaned from their bed. “Will you not hurry?”

encourage the thirst | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

It’s the third time Josef has had Nico this afternoon. He thinks he might actually see Nico’s belly swelling with all his spend.

like the hammer loves the nail | Trust, Paul/Primo, E

Almost two years later, the old man still won’t take his call.

long story short | TOG, multi, T

As per her routine, Nile goes to the gym after her shift at the coffeeshop. She warms up with some dynamic stretches before moving on to cardio, letting herself get lost in the familiar motions. It would be a day like any other if she wasn’t so busy stressing out about where the actual fuck she’s gonna live next month.

only us | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

“Okay,” Nile says, “five, that’s ‘Never Have I Ever.’” She looks at them expectantly.

the way forward | Trust, Primo/Leo, M

Francesco, newly fifteen and thusly deemed a man by Primo, had been thrilled to sit in on their meeting with some of the friendly faces in the port authority. But Leonardo is unenthused about it, and Regina will be even less so when she finds out, no doubt over dinner when she returns from the village.

all dressed up | TOG, Joe/Nicky, M

“It should only take five, ten minutes,” Joe tells her consolingly.

held | Trust, Paul/Primo, E

Eight months, one week, and four days after he stumbles out of the red Alfetta, Paul sees him again.

wouldn’t know where to start | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

It’s only their third time together—and their first time in Nicky’s bed—and Joe is fairly certain he’s caught a major case of feelings. Love is a strong word, sure, but it might be accurate, especially when Nicky lets his legs sprawl open and stares up at Joe like that.

tear your city down | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

There would have been nothing special or remarkable about the day Yusuf first kissed him, except that it was the day Yusuf first kissed him, and it was everything Nicolo had been thinking (obsessing) about for the better part of the last five years.

cry if you want to | TOG, Booker-centric, M

It’s a three-hour drive from the airport to Joe and Nicky’s farm. Booker remembers, vaguely, when they bought it, sometime in the mid-1800s. He didn’t understood it then and he doesn’t understand it now.

the dreadful need | TOG, Joe/Nicky, E

A year, in the grand scheme of their immortal lives, is nothing. A blip. But one month into his solo job, Joe is already feeling impatient. He misses Andy and Nile, of course, and separation from Nicky is almost physically painful.

red thread | TOG, Joe/Nicky, M (mind the tags on this one!)

“It was always going to be like this,” Nicky hisses. “And it will be like this forever. We tangle, we stretch, we never break.”

This was fun! I don’t know if I have a favorite? I’m clearly a big fan of starting with the action. I think the first line from “held” best sums up where we are and what’s going to happen, though.

Callout to anyone who wants to play!

[voice-of-anarchy]

ARCH ENEMY Celebrates 25th Anniversary: 'It's Been An Awesome Experience,' Says MICHAEL AMOTT

Swedish/Canadian/American metallers ARCH ENEMY are celebrating their 25th anniversary in 2021.

When ARCH ENEMY released its debut album, "Black Earth", in 1996, death metal was stagnating and in desperate need of a kick up the ass. Guitarist Michael Amott's blueprint for the purest of metal strains proved an instant underground hit, both in Europe and Japan, and almost single-handedly resurrected death metal as a viable art form with mainstream potential. Signed to Century Media Records for 1998's sophomore effort "Stigmata", ARCH ENEMY marched purposefully towards a new millennium with a rapidly growing reputation. 1999's "Burning Bridges" added to the band's momentum, their razor-sharp blend of brutality and epic melody becoming more refined with each creative step. But it was in 2001, when original vocalist Johan Liiva stood aside and mercurial frontwoman Angela Gossow stepped in, that ARCH ENEMY truly took off.

Released in 2001 in Japan and nearly a year later in Europe, "Wages Of Sin" showcased a revitalized line-up and newfound gift for immortal anthems, Gossow's feral roar adding many layers of charisma and power to ARCH ENEMY's already-monstrous sound. Swiftly dedicating themselves to a relentless touring schedule, the band's upward trajectory continued throughout the first decade of the 21st century, with each successive album enhancing the band's reputation and bringing legions of new fans to this resolute heavy metal campaign. Albums like 2003's vicious "Anthems Of Rebellion" and 2011's pitch-black and savage "Khaos Legions" ensured that Amott and his loyal henchmen — Gossow, drummer Daniel Erlandsson, bassist Sharlee D'Angelo and Michael's guitarist sibling Christopher — remained firmly at the top of the extreme metal tree: respected veterans at the height of their powers.

Always focused but impervious to other's rules and expectations, ARCH ENEMY evolved once more in 2015 following the departure of Gossow (now the band's manager). Replacing one of the most iconic vocalists of the modern age was never going to be easy, but in the shape of former THE AGONIST frontwoman Alissa White-Gluz, ARCH ENEMY found the perfect candidate. Unveiled on the ferocious, anthem-laden triumph of 2014's "War Eternal", Alissa's powerful identity and extraordinary vocal talents proved a natural and instantly welcomed fit. Further extensive touring cemented the new line-up's thrilling efficacy, before one final line-up change — the arrival of legendary guitarist Jeff Loomis, formerly of NEVERMORE — completed the musical puzzle that Amott had been tinkering with for the best part of 20 years.

Amott comments: "I must admit that it feels somewhat surreal that the year 2021 marks the 25th anniversary of ARCH ENEMY. I never imagined that we would reach a point in our career where we'd be looking back on two and a half decades of creating music, releasing albums and playing live shows all over the planet! It's been an awesome experience, to say the least.

"As a group, we have been fortunate enough to achieve some incredible highs and accomplishments, but we have also lived through difficult times and lows. This is life, peaks and valleys… I have to say, whatever adversities we faced — we've always come through it all stronger than before. Overall, it's been a great journey and one that I am extremely proud of. I wouldn't change a thing.

"Obviously, the COVID-19 pandemic has prevented us from doing any elaborate grand celebrations of the 25th anniversary, but we are doing some special merchandise and some other cool things - so keep your eyes peeled for that.

"A lot of my memories about the earliest days of ARCH ENEMY are connected to Japan. The first trilogy of albums, 'Black Earth' (1996), 'Stigmata' (1998) and 'Burning Bridges' (1999) were all released first in Japan and we toured there on all those three albums. Before much of the rest of the world really cared about us, we had gained a fantastic Japanese fan base that has supported us throughout the years — to this day. Domo Arigato Gozaimasu!

"With the release of our fourth album 'Wages Of Sin' in the early 2000s, we famously changed singer, a dramatic change from the classic Swedish death metal voice of original singer Johan Liiva to Angela Gossow — an unknown female German vocalist. A new concept at the time, and a bit of a gamble... I remember not being sure how the fans would react to the big change in the band. The new music we had written and recorded was also in a more straightforward style and the overall sound was a somewhat new direction for us. I needn't have worried, the 'Wages Of Sin' album was received very warmly by the fans in Japan, quickly becoming our biggest-selling album there. But maybe more importantly, it finally broke the band into the international metal arena in a big way. We found ourselves embarking on a rigorous touring schedule in Europe, USA and beyond. We had arrived!

"One thing ARCH ENEMY always did was tour a lot. We strongly believed in building the band by proving ourselves on the live stage, city by city, country by country…one show at a time. We really loved performing the concerts and the touring lifestyle — we still do.

"ARCH ENEMY is always pushing to play new uncharted territory — we have on many occasions been the first metal band to perform in a city or even country, which is always a huge thrill. Alongside building our own fan base on our countless headline tours and festival appearances, we also received fantastic opportunities with some of our early influences such as IRON MAIDEN, MEGADETH and SLAYER. They all brought us out as special guest on their tours, introducing us to their audience — for that we will always be thankful to them.

"In 2014 we released the 'War Eternal' album and introduced our new singer Alissa White-Gluz to the world, kicking off a new exciting chapter in the evolution of the band. We hit the road harder than ever before, eager to show the world what the band could do with the new lineup. In the seven years that have passed since then, the band has grown far beyond my wildest dreams. ARCH ENEMY's music continues to connect with new fans every day — it's hugely inspiring and keeps us pushing forward.

"On a personal note, ARCH ENEMY has been my band, my passion as well as my work for half of my life now and I can't really imagine what I would do if this band had not come to be all those years ago. I am eternally grateful to all the people that have helped us along the way in some way, shape or form... My dear band members/friends, all the people in the music business and underground metal scene that believed in us, producers and engineers for making us sound great, our tireless road crew and all the ex-members of course. Most importantly, the incredibly loyal fans that we have, whom I'll never be able to thank all in person. I can only promise that ARCH ENEMY will keep on making music (YES, there is a new album on the way!) ... and, of course, we will be out there playing live shows as we embark on what will be our biggest tour ever! I am very positive about the future.

"Here's to hopefully another 25 years! See you in the pit! Metal is forever!"

[writeyourownlifestory]

L I GH T S  U P

Chapters: 1/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time  Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @bi-gemini1983

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

One: Cruel To Be Kind: Nick Lowe

Oh I can't take another heartache Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wit's end You say your love is bonafide, but that don't coincide With the things that you do And when I ask you to be nice, you say

You've gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure Cruel to be kind, it's a very good sign Cruel to be kind, means that I love you, baby (You've gotta be cruel) You gotta be cruel to be kind

Richie Tozier didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life.

That wasn’t a very unique statement but Richie wasn’t a very unique person. An average guy who was as blind as a bat, born in bumblefuck nowhere and eventually making it out of there and into the big wild city, making a living working at a big-name magazine.

Okay, the last part was pretty impressive, but he didn’t actually work very hard for that job.

He used to dream of writing comedy. Of telling jokes or writing for amazing shows like Saturday Night Life or something on Comedy Central. He wanted to be a comedian. To make people laugh. Sure, he is seen as the funny guy around the watering tank, but thats just because the rest of the people he worked with were a bunch of yuppies with impressive college degrees and no real personalities. They’re no better than the robots who work for Buzzfeed.

They had paperback covers and an app for people who didn’t want to go to the store to buy an actual copy. They had their own YouTube channel that hit millions of hits thanks to interviews and other shit that Richie took part in.

When Bill decided he wanted to make this into a real thing, he wanted it to make some sense. It wasn’t some balls to the ball insanity mag that people read for juicy gossip. It was real. The people who subscribed were real and the people featured in it were real.

Richie’s writing, not so much.

He mostly did puff pieces. Little things that didn’t take a lot of effort but were mostly filler in between the larger stories. It was something Bill had done for them after the magazine got big. You see, he and Bill had been buddies in college. Both young and naive about the world. Neither really knew what they wanted, but they had dreams and that was all that mattered back then.

It was Bill that had the real talent with writing and despite publishers being interested, he never took into account just how much time, effort, and money went into getting a book published. Richie, always believing in his best friend, decided to give him all the cash he had saved up for spring break so he would make the first move on getting his novel out.

He didn’t mind much as he found that he could eat, sleep, and drink on the couch the same way he could out on the beach.  

That novel ended up being a best seller and skyrocketed Bill’s career. Bill always remembered that, so when his second and third books became such a thrill, he decided to take the chance and create a magazine and brought Richie along for the ride.

It was easy work and he made good money for doing very little, but he found that was the main cause of his quarter-life crisis. He wanted so much more than he had been given that Richie was actually feeling guilty for wanting more.

He had done stand up in the city and even took an improv class, but nothing seemed to stick to him. Now he was over thirty and found himself in a rut. He lived alone in a small apartment filled with things he didn’t need but purchased because he thought they would bring out a sense of excitement.

He was single, though that was a whole nother issue as it took Richie an embarrassingly long time to come to terms with his own sexuality. Growing up in a small town where people were cruel and the world didn’t understand left marks on an impressionable kid. It wasn’t until he was halfway through college that he did anything with a guy and well-passed gradation that he realized that it was more than okay to be gay, it was normal.

So yeah, he was open and fine with it, but still lonely as hell. He had been with people in the past, but he found that he mostly just shut himself off from the world. He wasn’t happy about anything anymore and it seemed the only thing that got him by was that ending it all would have proved his teenage bullies right; that he was better off dead.

And if there was anything Richie wanted to live for, it was spite.

And also music.

Despite not being musically inclined at all, Richie loved music with all his heart. He spent a good portion of his time listening to records as a kid. He used to go around carrying a walkman and CD player and Zune throughout his life. He paid for the mom's gigs on his phone because he needed to have all his favorite songs ready to blast at the tap of a finger.

While they already had a guy that wrote specifically about music for the magazine, he had always been able to sweet talk Bill into allowing him to have a few moments to shine and write something about some artist. Those were the pieces that really mattered to him. The ones that gave Richie the chance to dive deep into the thing he loved.

Sure, he had written a whole expose on Street Fighter and perhaps he did make a big deal out of the Star Wars franchise, but it was the moments when Richie could reel back and listen before writing that got him going.

They rarely did full-length articles on performers as the magazine was something of a clusterfuck of topics. Bill Denbrough never wanted to settle on just one thing. Paper Boat was more than just one specific topic. It was everything and they would be damned if they ever settled on its something.

But of course, now and then something would come along and the whole team would be scrambling to put together a magazine dedicated to that one specific person. It wasn’t always a celebrity. Bill meant what he said when he wanted to keep the magazine aimed at the everyday people.

Their biggest seller to date had been when they put out issues all about Ben Hanscom the architect. Richie had no idea why anybody would want to read about the guy other than to enjoy the pictures that were taken of him, but low and behold, the world wanted to know.

As it turned out, Ben was a decent human being who just wanted to make the world a better place and he also happened to be extremely hot while doing it. Who knew that was possible!

The physical copies sold out everywhere and the website crashed thanks to all the promotions they did on it. Like, what the actual fuck?

Bill was that good at what he did and it also helped that he was writing his books on the side. He had people from all over coming through wanting to see what they could do and it only proved to be more impressive as time went on.

Now the magazine needed something new, something fresh and it seemed Bill had it all planned out.

“Here at Paper Boat, we don’t choose a good looking celebrity because we want to make money. You know, I’m not going to call up Jennifer Aniston and ask her to do me a favor -- I could, but I won’t -- because that isn’t what we do here.” Bill explained as they went over the board meeting for the next issue. “The people featured on our cover are interesting. People who want to bring the world together and make a change. Or maybe they’re just batshit insane and look good while doing it. Who knows.”

A small array of laughter came over the place. Richie leaned back in his chair, half paying attention. He knew how these things went. Bill made a big, exciting speech before revealing who or what they’d be focusing on. The assignments would be passed around and Richie would be given something soft and fun.

He got the dumb shit that got the people who didn’t want to read involved. Sometimes he’d do interviews while vlogging. They’d try food they never tried before or do something stupid. One of the most interesting had been when he got assigned to interview Kristen Wiig while bobbing for apples. Certainly interesting and the flow to the website was wonderful.

Richie was the writer they went to when they wanted it to seem kitsch and gimmicky. Enough for it to garner actual attention, but nothing worth anybody's time.

He tossed his stress ball up in the air, catching it as it followed the natural path and came back down. He got bored easily as meetings like this and he waited for Bill to just get on with it and assign everybody their respected jobs.

Bill hit a button on his computer, revealing a picture that Richie was all too familiar with. It was of a punk rock band that he had followed since he graduated from college. Trashmouth was one of the greatest bands that had ever come into Richie’s life. They were like if Queen and the Ramones were put together, had a baby, and then that baby had a baby with Green Day: that weirdly insane combination would be Trashmouth.

There were five members, but the main focus was and always had been the lead singer and guitarist Dr. K. Nobody knew why he went by that nor did he ever give an answer. Richie had googled him a couple of times, wanting to find out more, but the guy was a fucking mystery. It was like he just appeared on the scene, completely out of his mind with cut off sleeves and steller vocals.

It was safe to say Richie had a big gay crush on Dr. K.

And that was fine because Dr. K was just as gay.

He had never been seen with anybody, always choosing to keep his personal life private, but his songs were obvious enough even if most of them seemed pretty genderless. He had done one interview where the person asking the questions kept using the term ‘she’ or ‘her’ until finally, the guy replied that he writes songs about guys.

That took the world by fucking storm and Richie Tozier had never been the same.

“Some of you may be familiar with Trashmouth. Multiple Grammy noms and wins. Always in the top 40 listings despite repeatedly being told that punk rock was dead.”

“Please tell me we’re going to be featuring the band,” Mike, the music specialist for the magazine, piped up eagerly.

“I can’t because we won’t,” Bill replied. “Our focus is on him.” Bill hit another button and a solo picture of Dr. K popped up.

Richie’s mouth was watering and he sat up straight. He had the same picture in a small poster in his apartment. It was set up alongside some other pictures in what he called his “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Wall” because he was just that big of a fan. He looked at it often, always finding himself thankful for all the music that had been created and got him through some pretty dark days as a kid.

Did it also help that Dr. K was incredibly attractive and gave Richie a little bit of encouragement just by looking so good? Yes, yes it did.

“It seems Dr. K will be going off on his own. My sources tell me he’ll be putting out a solo album by the end of the year and I want to know everything about it. Mikey, that’s your job. Speak to whoever you have to to find out what is going to be on that album. Audra, speak to the rest of the band, find out how they feel about the ending of an era. Georgie, get your camera ready because we’re doing a photo shoot with him in three days.”

“Who is doing the main exposé?” Greta asked, popping her gum as she spoke.

Bill smirked, turning back to his computer. “I’ll pick someone later. For now, you’re all dismissed.”

The group got up from their chairs and left Bill’s office. All except for Richie, who was too fucking flabbergasted to do a damn thing. As Bill began to head out, he finally scrambled to his feet to follow him. His long legs led him there quickly, though he mostly sidestepped around his coworkers to finally reach their boss.

“Bill! Big Bill! Wait up.” He called, following him to the elevator.

“What's up, Rich? I’m about to head out for lunch.” Bill said, turning to face him. “You hungry? We could check out that new sandwich place that opened across the way.

“Oh, no. I’m time. Stuffed.” Richie patted his stomach lamely, offering a large smile to his friend and boss. “Hey! So, just checking in to see about that latest pitch.”

“Oh right,” Bill paused, hitting the elevator button. “You were a fan of that band, right? Oof. Sorry about the breakup buddy. Haven’t you seen them like six times?”

“It’s sixteen, but that’s not important right now.” Richie corrected. “Bill. Buddy. You have to listen to me.”

“You got it, Rich.”

“I know you only trust me with the puff pieces because I’m not as talented as Mike or even Greta, but I need you to trust me on this.”

“You can do the exposé, Rich.”

“I have gotten better over time and I swear, if you just give me the chance, I promise. I won’t do a single embarrassing voice or anything to get Paper Boat blacklisted.”

“I’m sure you’ll embarrass yourself in one way or another, but that’s your issue. You have two days.”

“Until what?”

“Until your interview with Dr. K,” Bill said, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. “If you’d stopped rambling you would have heard me tell you that you’re going to be the one doing the expose. You’ll be meeting him in two days, so you better come up with some good questions.”

“Holy shit,” Richie muttered.

“Holy shit, indeed Tozier,” Bill smirked. “I know you’ve been in some sort of funk lately, so I hope that this will shake you up a bit. Better keep your fanboy boner under control.” Bill warned, smiling as the elevator doors closed between them.

Whether Richie realized it or not, Bill believed in him and his writing ability. He may not have the raw talent like himself, but he knew what Richie was capable of. He has a way with people that allowed them to loosen up and relax and nothing was better for a good interview than someone comfortable with the person asking the questions.

Bill couldn’t think of a single person who would be better for this specific project and having Richie be an uber-fan of the artist was just a bonus. If Richie made an ass of himself, that would be his problem, not the magazines.

Richie stood there, not knowing what to do next. He looked to his watch, realizing he had less than 72 hours to come up with a buttload of questions for his idol. He ran back to his cubby to brainstorm.

[the-nights-parade]

Ocean Park | Hong Kong's Largest Theme Park

Ocean Park is Hong Kong's largest theme park. In fact, it is Hong Kong's only theme park. With its 35 attractions and rides, the park has won several awards, including "The World's Seventh Most Popular Amusement Park" and "33rd Most Visited Tourist Attraction in the World". These are not statistics that I would necessarily brag about, but maybe that's just me.

Ocean Park is a 10 minute taxi ride away from our home, and Sadie has been at least a dozen times with her friends. In fact, her school did a trip there earlier this year and attempted to sell it to the parents as a physics lesson. Right.

I am reasonably informed that watching a teacher get spun around until they puke is the height of entertainment for a teenager. Anyway, I had never been before. I'm not sure why this is, but I guess that it is partly to do with David's lack of interest. I guess I can understand that. Any roller coaster becomes Space Mountain when you are blind, and although I love Space Mountain, I'm not sure that I'd want to spend the whole day riding on it. David is in the UK though, and I thought it might be a fun thing for Sadie and me to do.

This is the latest in a long string of my attempts at mother/daughter bonding. I try to kid myself that Sadie and I really have a close personal connection, that she loves and respects me as much as I do her, and that she actually enjoys my company when in reality what I perceive as bonding is probably just Sadie playing along to get something she wants. Regardless, if that's all I can get, I'll take it.

So, off we went to Ocean Park. I had to queue up for the ticket as Sadie already had a season pass that paid for itself if the first month. The price was comparable to other them parks - about £20 for the day. Now it is time for me to fess up about the real reason I wanted to go to Ocean Park. It has two different sections, one of which has animals, an aquarium and kiddie rides and the other which has thrill rides. The animal section has PANDAS! For a long time, seeing pandas has been on my list of 100 things to do before I die* and I was finally getting to do it!

I am marginally embarrassed by my passion for pandas. I have seen Kung Fu Panda three times and that is really not something of which to be proud. I am completely suckered in by their furry, fat cuddliness and those big black circles around their sad eyes. To be fair, I was also completely suckered in by Pete, the dog from the Little Rascals too. Something about a black circle around an eye. I like to think of myself as mature, urbane, sophisticated, cool and more than a little cynical. Loving cuddly panda bears blows that image. It's like Henry Kissinger saying he loves "My Little Pony". I guess I am out of the closet now.

Anyway, back to Ocean Park. I decided to prolong the expectation for as long as possible, so we visited the aquarium first. It is a pretty good aquarium as these things go - maybe even in the top 50 aquariums in the world.

I couldn't really contain my excitement much longer though. I had to see the bears. I spotted the Panda House from several hundred metres away. I knew it was the panda house because there were 10 metre tall plastic pandas waving to us from the roof. For one brief moment, I actually thought that they were real and waving just at me. We walked up the ramps and into the house. There are three panda enclosures, each with its own panda. They are solitary creatures and don't like to mix much. Thank goodness. The sight of two pandas cuddling or playing might just might be more cuteness than an ordinary human could bear (ha ha - I swear that wasn't on purpose).

There are two parallel ramps in front of the enclosures, and you are encouraged to stroll down one and up the other, giving everyone a good chance to have a look. Good manners went out the window as soon as I walked in the door. I stopped, creating a domino effect of panda watchers behind me. I couldn't move. I was spell bound. There in front of me was a giant panda sound asleep on a wooden platform. He was on his back, mouth open and with all four paws up in the air. I couldn't hear it, but I am absolutely sure he was snoring.

It is not terribly mature or sophisticated to jump up and down and shriek "OOOOH! LOOK AT THAT PANDA! HE IS SOOOOOO CUTE!", but that is what I did. Sadie,even more than usual, pretended that she didn't know me. Finally, someone behind me gave me a good push and forced me to carry on.

The second and third enclosures were empty, so I hurried down to see snoring panda again. Then, just as I was about to go past window number two, out came a beautiful female panda bear. I know it is unspeakably rude, and I am really not proud of it, but I simply would not budge from that spot.

Parents tried to push their eager children in front of me, but I wasn't having it. I figured that I had less time to do the 100 things to do before I die than they did. I took photos and watched her amble around for a good 10 minutes. I probably did more to damage Chinese/Western relations at that point than Tienanmen Square, but my wish was fulfilled. I have seen pandas. I am also the very, very proud owner of a cute, overpriced panda cuddly toy that we have named Bing Bing.

Back out into the sunlight, no other event that Ocean Park could offer could possibly live up to the panda experience. I have to tell you though, that in the dozen or so time Sadie had visited, she had never before seen the bears. She comes for the rides. So, off we went to the other part of the park.

This can be accessed in one of two ways. There is a cable car that offers magnificent views over the southern part of Hong Kong or there is a train. The trip up is unbelievably steep. There are stairs, but it would probably take me the better part of my life to get up them. I don't think that they are even open for public use. We took the cable car, and it was lovely, but I certainly wouldn't recommend it for anyone with height issues.

Once at the top, Sadie said she needed food. There were a number of food options, most of which involved some form of squid. There is something not quite right about eating something that was one of the attractions we had just visited. I am just trying to imagine how this menu would go down at Alton Towers or at Six Flags.

Thankfully, there were other options than munching on Squidward and Sadie was very happy with her french fries and diet coke. This is the ultimate food oxymoron.

During her feast, Sadie had been eyeing the temporary tattoo parlour. "No", I said, "Don't even ask". Of course, a few minutes later we were sat on the chair inside the booth whilst Sadie got her Panda tattoo. Giving in against your better judgement is a big part of the bonding process.

As foreigners, we are used to being stared at sometimes despite the fact that Hong Kong is one of the most cosmopolitan and ethnically diverse cities in the world. Just recently, I was accosted on the MTR by about 20 teenagers demanding to have their picture taken with a foreigner. Of course, I obliged with my goofiest grin.

Sadie actually attracted an audience whilst her tattoo was painted on. There was a crowd of people gathered round, pushing each other out of the way to get a view. When the tattoo lady was finished, Sadie stood up and the crowd actually applauded!

We then moved onto the arcade. This time I was really going to hold firm, and I set about telling Sadie how all the games are rigged and that it is virtually impossible to win a big prize. Then I saw the shooting gallery. OK, it was a Nerf shooting gallery where you shot plastic pegs with suction cups onto a plastic target, but it was still a shooting gallery. My resolve crumbled and I became the world's biggest hypocrite.

When I was about Sadie's age, I went to a summer camp. It was altogether a miserable experience, except for one thing. I discovered that I was really good with a 22 rifle. I've been hooked ever since. I would NEVER shoot at a living thing (I won't even let Sadie go to BB Gun parties when EVERYONE else gets to go), but boy do I love shooting at a target. I bought 10 rounds and sidled up to the bar counter. Everyone around me was doing rapid firing, but I took my time to line up that bullseye in my site. I felt like Clint Eastwood, Annie Oakley and John Wayne all wrapped up into one. Slowly, I pulled the trigger. Bullseye! I took my time with the rest and managed 5 bulls eyes and 5 in the next circle out. God, I'm good.

On to the rest of the park. It was time to do some rides. We headed off to the log flume. On our way, we saw large groups of mainland Chinese wandering around in packs. Some of them had on matching hats. Others had perky little matching bandannas. All of them had little tags around their necks which I can only presume said "If found, please return to Hunan Provence". Hong Kong tourism is big business in mainland China, and the groups are typically made up of older couples. It's sort of like visiting the Florida of the east.

These groups, with their bad teeth, worse clothes and what I can only imagine is the Chinese version of a hillbilly accent, are treated with complete and utter disdain by the local Hong Kong community.  I rather like them. I can only imagine what they must have seen in their lifetimes, yet they retain a certain child-like innocence in the pleasure they take in places like Ocean Park. Then we got to the queue for the log flume.

All innocence was gone as these old folks pushed and shoved like they were in the queue for the last kilo of rice at the state rice store. I'm not kidding, they were vicious. They cut in front of as many people as they could, tread on toes and elbowed their way to the front. Then once on the ride, they looked miserable when they got soaked to the skin. What were they expecting?  We got soaked to the skin too, but it was fun.

Then I had a really strange experience (as if being jostled by old Chinese people wasn't strange enough). We were in the queue for another ride (Raging Rapids, if you must know), and I spotted someone I knew in the queue. I knew I knew him, but for the life of me I couldn't thing of how. His was not a face I would forget as he looked like a youngish Paul Newman. I stared for about 10 minutes before he looked up and nodded at me and smiled before he turned away to talk to his very young Thai wife/girlfriend. It finally came to me.

It was a close friend of one of my exes whom I like to call Lucifer (No Grizz and Billy, that is not a nickname I have for either of you). It was driving me crazy because I couldn't remember his name. I remembered that he had been born with a really bad name (Malcolm Pratt), but he changed it by deed pole as soon as he was old enough. Who could blame him? So, although I could remember the old name that he changed before I even met him, I simply could not recall his new name. Then it came to me. Pat. His new name was Pat. Just to test out this theory, I yelled out "Pat" to see what would happen. What happened is that Sadie nearly died of embarrassment and the bloke didn't even turn around. I'm certain it was him though. I had heard to had moved to Asia a few years ago for the women to teach.

After a couple hours of different rides, it was time to head back down. This time we opted for the train. We were waiting for the train in a sort of holding pen with a bunch of mainlanders. Several of the women were staring at me and giggling. I smiled at one lady and she came over to me and poked me in the chest several times. Then, she gave two big thumbs up. All the other ladies then started smiling, nodding and pointing at my boobs like they had just won an academy award. I swear to you this really happened.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Out on the Town

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve written in a while. Bear with me while I shake the dust off.

 It started as a night out. Thor was back from Asgard and celebrations were being had. Drinks were beginning to flow at their favorite little dive bar, and everything was right. Except for Natasha sending a frenzy of text messages in the corner. Thor looked to Bucky in askance, and all Bucky did was shrug “I dunno, man. She knows everyone.” 

Thor wandered over to the table where she sat and pulled out a chair, “You have to come out.” he heard Natasha say. “Please? Don’t let that piece of shit make you hide away.” She looked at Thor, sudden inspiration on her face, “Besides, Thor’s here, and he’s never even met our Kitchen Witch.” Natasha hit a button on her phone and held it out, “See, listen. It’s fucking boring. We need you.” Thor heard a snuffle and a pale laugh. “Okay. Okay.” said a female voice. “I’ll pull myself together and come out.” The line went dead, and Natasha nodded, satisfied. 

Thor quirked an eyebrow, “Who am I meeting?” he asked, amused. “Y/N,” she said smiling a little. She paused for a moment, chewing on the straw in her drink. “She’s S.H.E.I.L.D.s very own Doctor of all things Occult and Terrestrial,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt that she’s young, cute, and was raised by actual witches.” Clint brought Natasha another drink and grinned, “Y/N is back?” he said, “Excellent! She owes me a drink.” The redhead accepted a bottle with a smile of thanks. “This is a rescue mission Clint,” she said thoughtfully.  The smile faded from Clint’s face, and Thor felt his own brow furrow. “We’re saving her from herself. When she got back from Crete today, she found her fiance in bed with her best friend.” Clint flinched, “I think this calls for a team meeting before she gets here.” he said, going to round up the posse. 

It was a quick meeting, mercifully. Everyone, even Thor agreed that it was necessary Y/N have a good time. So by the time Y/N actually arrived a plan was more or less solidified. They would have missed you had Steve not been waiting to usher you to a frankly too small table. You looked like you’d been crying and Sam, Clint, and Steve all swore to find a way to make the bastard pay. Natasha’s solution was the one to actually make you Thor though. A Convoluted plot that ended with the Ex-Fiance naked, alone, and sans passport on Canada with $20 in American money stapled to his scrotum. Thor watched from the pool table with Tony. He already felt the affection for you; the other’s seemed to feel. And he saw the pain they were all so desperate to fix. The tears that seemed to well up unbidden when you thought no one was looking. Your hoodie was at least 2 sizes too large, and your jeans were drawn on and torn. You looked just... adorable. Even heartbroken and uncertain. Tony watched Thor and nodded, “She’s a good, kid.” he said, “Too emotional to be an agent though.” Thor nodded, “What does she do?” he asked. “Who knows?” Tony said laughing a little. “She studies artifacts. She writes papers. She and Bruce have worked together on a few things. She’s pulled our bacon out of the fire a few times with some weird shit... But I don’t think she has a title. She’s kind of like a pet.”

Clint grunted, “A pet that if pressed could level half the City.” he said, “Even before Hydra got a hold of her as a kid and started futzing with her DNA she packed some serious Magical Mojo.” Thor looked from Clint to Tony and nodded, “A valuable Ally then.” he said, “And a dangerous enemy.. He turned and shouted over his shoulder at Natasha, “That I was supposed to be introduced to!” Steve laughed as Natasha dropped her glass and slapped her hand over her mouth “Fuck I forgot!” “Some fucking spy you are.” Clint teased as she dragged Y/N by the hand, blushing and stammering. Natasha squeezed the hand she held and smiled before turning to give Clint the Finger casually. “Thor,” she said, “This is Y/N.” You glance cautiously up at Thor and smile a little, holding out a hand, “Pleased to meet you, finally.” your voice is quiet. Especially quite in the crowded bar. Thor can’t help but feel you making yourself smaller, ill at ease with all the attention. “Lady Y/N,” he said, gentling his usually booming voice, “The pleasure is all mine.”  He took your hand and kissed it, the barest blush of his lips across your knuckles, and when he met your eyes, he watched, fascinated as they shifted colors from grey to a crystal blue.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Flirting is my game.” he pouted. You weren’t sure how long you had stood there, a literal God holding your hand but when Tony spoke you felt the connection break, and you withdrew your hand slowly. “I-I think I had a better head home.” you hear yourself say. The whirl of feelings is too much, and everything is too raw. You have too many secrets bursting to get out and well... Secrets weren’t secrets if everyone knew them. There were things you didn’t even want to tell yourself.  You notice the god in front of you looking crestfallen but you just... can’t. Natasha pulled you into a hug and kissed your temple, “Come by the Tower tomorrow.” she said, “We’ll train a little.” Clint pulled you into another bone-crushing hug and whispered something that made you smile. As much as you love your friends, all the attention could be hard when you still felt like nothing. 

Steve looked over to the table a short while later, after you were gone. You had one drink in a still full glass on the table. So he took a picture and sent it to Nat. Nat frowned but made a point to file it away for later.

__________________________________________________

The next morning things start slowly in the tower. Thor is the only one without a hanger and takes his time about breakfast. Pop Tarts and coffee, enough to feed a small army. When Natasha appears bleary-eyed and fumbling for her favorite mug Thor gives her half a wave, “Hair of the dog?” he said, offering her a flask. She took it and smiled a little, “Many blessings on your house.” she said, pouring some into her coffee. Thor chuckled, “When you’ve recovered, perhaps you can make sense of your small friend for me.” he said. Natasha nodded, “Y/N is a puzzle that can take some time to piece together.” she said. “ We had one directive, Clint and I. It was our second mission together.” She paused and took a sip of her coffee. “We were supposed to kill her,” she said. “We made a different call.” Thor nodded, “I see, and why were you supposed to kill her.” Natasha sighed, “Because Hydra took a little girl and tried to make her into a monster. S.H.E.I.L.D thought that she was basically a living Atom Bomb.” Thor grunted, thinking, “But she wasn’t?” She shook her head, “She could be. In fact, she can do some terrifying things with her powers but she just... doesn’t. She was maybe 10 years old when they snatched her off the street in front of her school.” Natasha said. “And by the time we got to her, she was 14. She spent 4 years in a cell being tortured and remade and the first thing she did when we rescued her was ask if she could still die.”

Thor blinked, and Natasha nodded in understanding.” That’s what made us decide against killing her, she practically pleaded to die on the floor of that cell because she was so afraid of being experimented on again.” Thor felt a pang in his chest, “Y/N must be very brave.” The spy nodded, “She’s coming by today, I hope. I miss her when she’s away.” Thor smiled a little and Natasha drifted out of the kitchen to go get ready for the day leaving Thor to his thoughts. He kept seeing you, shrinking away from the light, a mouse among giants. An adorable mouse. He decided. And one he would very much like to get to know better.

As it turns out, he got more chances than he thought he would get. Your ex-fiance got you thrown out of your apartment and Tony, in typical Tony fashion, installed you in a room in the tower. Thor learned quickly why the others liked having you around so much. A natural empath you were ever helpful and even-tempered. Always appearing with precisely the right thing to lift some one’s spirits or cool a hot-tempered argument. Not to mention you were a gifted cook. Thor could feel himself thrill at the light tread of your feet. You also felt some attraction to the god but... you held yourself back. Hiding away parts of yourself. Keeping your secrets safe. Saving the biggest secret safe for as long as you could. Though, living in the tower made it hard. Morning Sickness didn’t just happen in the morning apparently. It happened whenever the wind changed. 

A few weeks after you moved to the tower on your morning run, Thor decided to accompany you. He offered you his arm as you headed out the door and smiled, “We’ll greet the day together!” he boomed jovially, and you smiled up at him. God. He was big compared to you. You had to try hard not to stare as he stripped off his shirt and motioned for you to set the pace. You started out, finding a steady rhythm and losing yourself in the sound of your breath and the pounding of your feet. Even still you felt like you had just barely started when you felt your stomach turn over and you had to stop and turn away to avoid vomiting what little you managed to eat for breakfast of the path. Thor made an alarming sound and fumbled for a way to help you, “Lady Y/N,” he said, awkwardly rubbing your shoulder, “are you unwell?” You took a sip from your water bottle to rinse your mouth and nodded, “I’ll be fine.” You look away from the god, ashamed and feeling foolish, studying the ground between you. Thor tipped your chin up, gently, and brushed the hair away from your face; “Whatever battle you face, you need not fight it alone.” He smiled a little, his eyes warming, “I- We- we all care about you very much."

You feel your cheeks heat under his hands. “I... can’t,” you hear yourself say. “Not yet.” tears started flowing down your cheeks as the full weight of it all bore you slowly and inevitably to your knees. Thor said nothing more. Words were small consolation to pain this immense. So he lowered himself to the ground next to you and simply pulled you against his side. Gently but firmly insisting on holding you until you had had the cry out you needed. You didn’t know why you felt this way. Why it had all broken you the way, it had. Why you felt so ashamed. Shit. The Avengers loved children. No one would look at you any differently. But... but what if they did. She had nowhere else to go.

When you had finally stopped crying Thor wiped tears from your cheeks with his massive thumbs and smiled a little, making you blush. “I’m sorry.” you murmur, “I shouldn’t be such a baby.” Thor took the hand where you still wore the engagement ring you couldn’t make yourself take off, “This man broke a promise to you.” he said seriously, “He broke a vow and he broke your heart.” He touched the ring carefully, “Such a man does not deserve you. You deserve to be treated with reverence. Worshiped and adored.” Thor let go of your hand and made himself stop before adding, “And I would do all those things.”  The two of you stand on the path for a long moment before you find your voice, “Thank you, Thor.” The man took your arm gently and guided you back down the path, staying quiet. Giving you time to gather yourself together. Trying very hard not to let himself think about how nice it was to be the one to hold you and help you weather whatever storm had come. 

____________________________________________

“Where has Lady Y/N gone?” Thor boomed over the cacophony at the dinner table, “It’s ill done of us to eat the bounty she prepared without us.” Steve shrugged and swallowed his bite of bread, “She said something this morning when I saw her about going to get some things back from her fiance.” Nat raised an eyebrow and glanced at Clint, “Wait...” she said, “It’s almost 8 o’clock.” Tony laughed a little, “Makeup sex?” he suggested. Thor felt his fists clench involuntarily at the thought. That man... that bastard didn’t deserve any of her affection. The table grew silent, and each Avenger rose slowly. They were going to find her and see her home. Then go find her ex. 

It was Sam who found her. In the hospital. It turned out the Ex had been worse than they had thought. He had shoved her down the stairs. Her body was broken and bruised. Battered enough to land her in an ICU room. By the time Thor arrived Clint and Natasha were there. Clint looked furious, and Natasha was pale. Paler than Thor had ever seen her. “What. Did. He. do?” Thor said, his voice low and rumbling. Steve bounded up the hallway and pulled Nat against him gently. It took Clint a long moment to find his voice. “He shoved her down the stairs. 11 floors over a railing,” he said slowly, fighting to keep himself contained.

"It's a miracle she’s going to make it but...” Clint glanced at Natasha who swallowed hard and nodded. Clint sighed, “The neighbors heard him yelling right as she was leaving... She told him she was pregnant and was going to keep it. With him or without him. So he pushed her down the railing... told the cops that one way or another he’d have solved his problem.” Tony made a queer choking sound and Bruce pulled him against his side. For the first time, as a team they were helpless.  There was nothing they could do to save her or the child she had lost. Thor gazed through the glass, willing her to fight, longing to kiss her, begging her silently to just open her eyes for him. He was only slightly aware of Bruce asking if anyone had even known she was expecting. Thor stayed silent. It wasn’t his story to tell but... after that day on the path he had noticed things. A slight change in her body. And her eating habits. It was a conversation that he needed to have with her. No one else.

___________________________________

Recovery happened. Slowly. You healed and your body healed. It was your spirit that was lagging. Thor was there, just quietly there to hold you up and help soothe all the raw places. For Thor, it was like watching a tree bloom in the Spring. Color flowed around you like a river, and steadily you took your life back. Thor found himself awed by the intensity of the way you hurled yourself into your work. He visited you often, bringing flowers and small gifts from his homeworld. 

He wanted to court you. To give you the things he would give a queen. His queen. But he had time. He could be patient. You found yourself becoming slowly enamored of the god. It wasn’t the gifts it was just... he didn’t ask questions. He accepted you as you were. All your scars and all your secrets. He treated it all as if you were a gift unto yourself and each part of you was one more piece to be cherished. 

The first kiss took you both by surprise. It was a quiet Sunday. You and Thor were practically the only people in the tower. Thor made his rambling way into the kitchen, and you greeted him with a sleepy smile over your coffee cup. “Lady, Y/N,” he chirped, “I thought you were to be gone another week!” You shake your head, “The artifacts were mundane.” you said, “No major significance. Trifles I could make in my spare time.” Thor beamed, “Ah, yes. You have made some remarkable improvements to the wards around the tower. Your craftsmanship is impressive.” You blush at the compliment, and he could feel himself practically preening. “Thank you,” you murmur towards your cup. Thor helps himself to coffee, enjoying the quiet of the morning. Enjoying the way the sunlight made the silky strands of your hair shine. It struck him, watching you blow gently on the coffee that he loved you. That he could do this. Precisely this, every morning. Softly, gently, you feel his rough, calloused hand close over yours. The engagement ring is gone, laid in a box and hidden in a drawer; the tan line it left behind is still there. Slowly he raised the hand he held to his lips and kissed it. “Thor.” you start softly, but the blonde shakes his head. “Just... let me say this,” he said quietly, “I will do whatever you wish after this moment, but I beg you. Let me unburden myself to you now.” You can feel your throat tighten, and you want to pull your hand away, but Thor tightened his grip gently and kissed the tan line across your ring finger. 

“That day at the track,” he started, “Why did you not tell me?” You bite your lip and look down at the table. “I was ashamed. And petrified.” you hear yourself say after a pause. “What did you have to be ashamed of?” he said softly. “Your past? Your choice in men? Giving yourself to someone you loved?” He chuckled, “You have nothing to be ashamed of in this house. With me. With us.”  You nod but say nothing and Thor continues. “If you had told me that day, my opinion of you would not have changed. Whatever your choice. You are a woman worthy of better than me, but it has been my honor to be your friend these past months. In another life, you would have made a fierce Valkyrie.” He smiled fondly. “I am honored to be your friend but if I were to be able to call you my love, I would never want for anything.” 

You feel tears sting your eyes and before you can stop yourself you’ve pulled him down, tangling your fingers in his hair to give him a kiss that Thor would one day swear felt like taking a shot of good whiskey. He gentled you and when you pulled away he chuckled, kissing your nose. “Is that a yes? My fierce little Valkyrie.” You nod unable to find the words for him and he laughed, tugging you into his lap careful of your still healing body, and for the next few minutes there was no more talking. Thor wiped the tears from your cheeks and kissed you again, beaming. You snuggle into his broad chest and sigh. Safe and warm. Feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

[mastcomm]

Fran Drescher, Millennial Whisperer – The New York Times

Fran Drescher’s voice, if you ever have the chance to hear it deployed in very close vicinity over shrimp tempura and spicy tuna sushi, is actually quite soothing.

When Drescher played Fran Fine on “The Nanny,” the 1990s sitcom she created with her then-husband Peter Marc Jacobson, she was pitching her voice higher, squeezing it up her nose, acting. Back then, The New York Times compared Drescher to “the sound of a Buick with an empty gas tank cold-cranking on a winter morning.” But here in her living room above Central Park, sitting among crystals, fresh lemons, fine sculpture and photographs of herself meeting establishment Democrats, she sounds more like a Mercedes purring out of the Long Island Expressway. For those who grew up with “The Nanny” as our nanny, her voice is so embedded in the subconscious that hearing the softened version is almost therapeutic. Imagine if Nanny Fine had an ASMR setting.

“I’ve heard it’s like a foghorn, a cackle,” Drescher said carefully, balancing her plate in the lap of her little black dress. “I always just describe myself as having a unique voice.” When she left Queens for Hollywood in the late 1970s, her manager told her, “If you want to play other parts, besides hookers, you’re going to have to learn to speak differently,” she recalled. Instead Drescher leaned into her natural gifts. In 1992, she pitched herself as a sitcom star to the president of CBS: “Because of the voice, they think I’m the seasoning in the show,” she told him. “That’s wrong. I’m a main course.”

America has not heard from Drescher much lately — she has not appeared regularly on television since her TV Land sitcom “Happily Divorced” ended in 2013, and “The Nanny” is sadly hard to stream — but this week, at 62, she returns to TV with NBC’s “Indebted.” As in the pilot of “The Nanny,” Drescher appears unexpectedly on a doorstep, except this time, it belongs to her adult son (Adam Pally). She and Steven Weber play Debbie and Stew Klein, a couple of boomer dilettantes who crash their kid’s married life with the news that they’re in debt. The role of Debbie, a boundaryless hugger who swans around her son’s suburban home as if it’s her own personal retirement community, inverts the “Nanny” dynamic: Now the kids have to take care of her.

When Drescher weighed whether to take on the show, a family sitcom that draws on generational conflict, she thought of her own family. “My parents, who are still alive, thank God, were so excited about me being on network television again,” she said. “You know, not everybody could find TV Land,” she added, “but everybody could find NBC.”

The role was not written for Drescher, exactly. The pilot script had called for a “Fran Drescher type,” and when the real Fran Drescher signed on, she required a few adjustments. “People are used to seeing an annoying mother-in-law in a sitcom, but that’s not what I signed up for,” Drescher said. “When you have somebody whose persona is bigger than the part, you got to make it right for me. Or why have me?”

That meant giving Debbie Klein some passions of her own. “I had to bring myself into it,” she said. “I really infused the sex appeal, the sensuality, the vivaciousness of the character.”

“Indebted” creator Dan Levy, a comedian and producer for “The Goldbergs,” said that he originally modeled Debbie and Stew after his own parents, but that the steaminess was all Drescher. “My mom was like, ‘That’s not based on us,’” Levy said. “She elevated that to a whole level that I was not expecting.”

In the decades since Drescher first opened her mouth onscreen, the Fran Drescher type has achieved a quiet dominance over popular culture. “The Nanny” has been syndicated around the world and remade in a dozen countries, including Turkey (where it was called “Dadi”), Poland (“Niania”) and Argentina (“La Niñera”). In “The Nanny,” for anyone who doesn’t have the chatty theme song implanted in her brain, Drescher plays a Jewish woman from Queens hired to tend to the three precocious children of a wealthy English widower, Maxwell Sheffield, who is also Broadway’s second-most-successful producer (after his nemesis, Andrew Lloyd Webber). In foreign versions, the ethnicities are recalibrated — in the Russian one, the nanny is Ukrainian — but the Fran Drescher type is otherwise preserved. Wherever she goes, the ethnic striver is transplanted into a posh setting as the help, and her appealing culture and individual charm pull off the ultimate makeover — reinventing the strait-laced insiders in her own brash image.

Across the internet, Fran Fine is helping to perform similar tricks. With her pile of hair, power-clashing wardrobe and cartoon proportions, she has been fashioned into an avatar of stylish self-respect. In GIFs spirited around social media, she can be seen in a cheetah-print skirt suit, sipping from a cheetah-print teacup; inhaling a plate of spaghetti with no hands; and descending the Sheffields’ ivory staircase as if entering New York’s hottest club.

“I send this when I’m excited,” Drescher said, summoning her phone from her assistant Jordan and thumbing to a GIF of Fine twirling across the mansion in a fuchsia dress and a self-satisfied look. “How many people can send their own GIF?”

The Fran Drescher type is a kind of advisory role. First she was the world’s nanny, showing kids how to mix prints and be themselves, and now she has matured into a cool-aunt persona, modeling a fabulous adulthood. (“Broad City” made this transformation literal, squeezing Drescher into a low cut rainbow and cheetah-print dress and casting her as Ilana’s Aunt Bev, and by extension the spirit guide for a new generation of Jewish comediennes.) “I’ve never had kids, so I’m not really parental,” Drescher said. “I’m a mom to my dogs.”

“I’m kind of an influencer,” she added. Drescher has led an unconventional life, and “I share it,” she said. “It gives my life purpose.” In two memoirs, she has discussed being raped at gunpoint in her 20s, surviving uterine cancer in her 40s, and divorcing Jacobson only to acquire a new gay best friend when he subsequently came out. Recently she thrilled the internet when she revealed that she has secured a “friend with benefits” whom she meets twice a month for television viewing and sex. “I don’t think it’s that shocking a thing,” Drescher said. “I’m not in love with him.”

The kids who grew up watching “The Nanny” are now Nanny Fine’s age, old enough to properly covet her closet and cultivate a newfound respect for her persona. On Instagram, the @whatfranwore account catalogs classic “Nanny” outfits, and @thenannyart pairs them with contemporary art pieces. Cardi B once captioned a photo of herself in head-to-toe cat prints: “Fran Drescher in @dolceandgabbana.” The actor Isabelle Owens will mount a one-woman song-and-dance show dedicated to Drescher in New York this month, called “Fran Drescher, Please Adopt Me!” “As everything from the ’90s comes back, people are rediscovering her,” Owens said, noting Drescher’s fashion, her confidence, and her voice; Owens is still working to perfect her impersonation. “There are so many layers to it,” she said. “It’s so delicate and lyrical.”

The Fran Drescher type, no matter how big it gets, still risks reducing the woman behind it. “All of her is in me, but not all of me is in her,” Drescher said. “I don’t think any of my characters could have ever created and executive-produced ‘The Nanny.’” Fran Fine might have been able to wrap the boss around her red-lacquered little finger, but Drescher is the boss. When she secured her own New York apartment, in 2004, it was here, just across the park from the house that stood in for the Sheffield mansion on “The Nanny.” Soon her transformation into Mr. Sheffield will be complete: She is developing a Broadway show of her own, a musical adaptation of “The Nanny” that she will co-write with Jacobson.

“The Nanny” is a timely bid for Broadway. Drescher takes the stage’s most classic feminine archetype and gives her a modern upgrade: She is Eliza Doolittle if she refused to take her voice lessons.

That’s perhaps the biggest misconception about the Fran Drescher type — that the voice is an unfortunate obstacle, rather than a cultivated asset. Once, a fan asked Drescher about the classic “Nanny” scene where Fran Fine goes for sushi, naïvely swallows a wad of wasabi, and says, in an eerily neutral broadcaster’s voice, “Gee, you know, that mustard really clears out the nasal passages.” The fan wanted to know how Drescher had managed to pull that voice off. Sitting in her parkside apartment, perched in her producer’s chair, confidently apportioning her wasabi, Drescher revealed her secret: “I’m very talented.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/fran-drescher-millennial-whisperer-the-new-york-times-2/

[glasskaleidoscopes]

Chapter 5 - Friday, October 2nd, 2009

The Brudowskis had put together a small memorial service for Peter Sanders about 2 weeks later, which had been difficult for everyone. It was held in a church, and about 30 people came. After counting the Brudowski and Ewing families, there were a handful of Peter’s co-workers who attended the service, as well as a few old friends. It was a closed casket funeral, with beautiful bouquets of flowers covering the church. Carolyn spoke briefly, with Sam at her side, and by the time she was done, there was not a dry eye to be seen. Vera and Sallie recited a poem, and Janet Brudowski came up and led everyone in a hymn. For the next couple days after the funeral, Carolyn and Sam were in a complete haze. Sallie and Vera instantly recognized the challenges they were going through and were happy to help. Sallie was coming over to the Brudowski household home every afternoon now. While her parents were not thrilled about her spending so much time away from home, they acknowledged that her friend was hurting, and Sallie was still getting all of her homework done so they couldn’t really protest much.

Now, a few weeks after the funeral, Carolyn and Sam were finally starting to feel a bit of normalcy slip into their lives. Brittany and Sam had become good friends; they would read together, and Brittany would even let Sam talk about the Cubs while Brittany pretended to understand baseball. Carolyn enjoyed spending so much time with her friends, especially since they were all diligent students. They could help each other when one of them got stuck on a certain homework problem. Carolyn’s birthday was coming up, and she actually felt a little excited. She was the baby of the trio, and was ready to join her other friends in being a fifteen-year-old. Janet had come up to her and asked what she wanted to do for her birthday. Carolyn meekly explained that a trampoline would be fun, maybe something in their backyard. Janet ran with it and was planning a party with a huge trampoline, lots of birthday cake, and even some karaoke. Janet asked Sallie and Vera if there was anyone else to bring to the party. There were a few other friends they had in mind, and Sallie asked if she could bring Lara, which was answered with an immediate yes.

The party was on a Friday afternoon, a few days after Carolyn’s actual birthday. The hoard of Brudowski teenagers and Carolyn all poured out of the older van and immediately heard ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas coming from the backyard. A huge smile broke out across Carolyn’s face, “Yes finally some pop music! No offense guys, but death metal is not really my favorite music genre.” Andrew and Vera chuckled slightly, and they all raced inside. Sallie, her parents, and Lara arrived at the house about an hour later. By about 5 p.m., the rest of Carolyn’s friends had arrived and the party was flowing smoothly. The trampoline Janet had rented was the biggest trampoline Carolyn had ever seen, it could hold 20 people, easily. The girls spent the majority of the evening bouncing on the trampoline, while Trixie and Brittany largely monopolized the karaoke machine. They even convinced Sam to sing ‘Baby Got Back’ by Sir Mix-A-Lot, and it was great to see him having so much fun and being so free.

By 8 p.m., the cake had been cut, and Carolyn’s huge adopted family had a great time shout-singing happy birthday. Jaret had sneakily switched the candles to trick candles, and everyone had a good laugh as Carolyn desperately tried to blow them out. Then Andrew licked his fingers and put out a candle, which almost gave Janet a heart attack. After seeing Andrew do it, all of the kids wanted to do it, but Brad put a stop to all that by quickly putting each of the trick candles out with his own fingers. The cake was rainbow on the inside, with a white frosting base and Carolyn’s name written out in beautiful script letters across the sheet cake. After cake, Carolyn, Sallie, Vera, and their other friends from school sang karaoke for the next hour. Vera was singing ‘Bad Romance’ by Lady Gaga, and her dance had Sallie rolling on the ground laughing. Carolyn looked lovingly at her friends, then walked back into the house to take a quick breather.

Carolyn walked into the sitting room, a room seldom used due to its lack of electronics. Honestly, it was Carolyn’s favorite room in the house. There was a beautiful painting that spanned the entire length of one of the walls, and the other wall had large windows looking out onto the front yard. The couches were beautiful as well; they looked like they were right out of the Victorian era. Carolyn sat on the couch that faced the wall full of windows and looked out into the dimming evening light.

“Hey. Are you okay?” An unexpectedly deep voice rang through the room, Carolyn turned around swiftly to see Adrian standing behind her.

“God you scared me!” Carolyn said, a little out of breath.

“Oh I’m sorry, I saw you come into the house and just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Adrian explained hurriedly.

Carolyn smiled, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. I just came in for a bit of quiet. I’m still getting used to how constant the noise is in this house. My old apartment was much quieter since it was usually just me and Sam.” Carolyn explained, her voice dropping slightly with the painful memory of what felt like a past life. Adrian sat next to Carolyn and rested his hand on hers.

“I can imagine that would be a big difference. It is true that this house doesn’t really stop.” Adrian said sweetly, with his hand still on hers. Carolyn was looking down at their hands, Adrian’s large hand completely enveloped her small hands. Carolyn’s heart rate sped up and she could feel her armpits starting to sweat. Carolyn turned her head and looked at Adrian’s face. Adrian was looking steadily at her, and when their eyes met, Carolyn’s heart leapt out of her chest. Adrian smiled and slightly closed his fingers around Carolyn’s hands.

“Wh--, umm, yeah, uhh, I guess this house doesn’t stop.” Carolyn chuckled nervously, then finally was able to put a sentence together, “I’m getting used to it, though.”

Adrian nodded, still maintaining eye contact, “That’s great. I’ve been trying to make sure I don’t make too much noise at night to keep you up. I can tell you Andrew and Jaret have also been better about their nighttime noise as well.” This caused Carolyn to blush a deep purple, recalling the conversation she had with Vera and Sallie a few months earlier.

“I, well, I’ve, I, umm, haven’t heard anything,” Carolyn stammered. She knew her face was completely red and was trying to calm herself down at this novel feeling, but the persistence of Adrian’s strong hand around her hands was not helping.

“Great. Just pound on the door if anyone ever is too loud at night. John used to drive me crazy with him sneaking girls in through his window at all hours of the night. When he moved out it felt like a calm had settled over the house.” Adrian laughed to himself, and Carolyn was in awe of how coolly he talked about this with her. Carolyn blushed even harder thinking about how John had had sex in the bed she slept in every night, probably a lot of sex, by the way Adrian was talking.

Carolyn squirmed a little, “Well I’ve never heard you sneak in a girl, so you’re doing a good job at keeping quiet.” Carolyn couldn’t stop herself from making her comment. She held her breath waiting for Adrian’s response.

“Hah. Well you won’t ever hear that from me, I would never make a girl have to sneak through my window. Plus, I wouldn’t want to betray my parents’ distrust like that either.” Adrian explained, with a look of slight vulnerability that Carolyn had never seen.

“Oh. That’s nice of you.” Carolyn quietly replied. After another moment, Carolyn shifted, “I’m going to go see what everyone is up to.” This conversation had felt like it had covered an eternity, but in reality it was only a couple minutes. Carolyn got up from the couch and tried her hardest not to sprint out of the room. She could not believe what had just happened. Why was Adrian being so nice to her? He had basically held her hand, which was a step that Carolyn had never even come close to. Then he kept talking about basically sex, which was just blowing her mind. The cherry on top was that she glanced behind her and saw Adrian trotting upstairs with his hands in his pockets.

Carolyn went back into the backyard to find Sallie now singing ‘Fireflies’ by Owl City. She was just finishing the song, and Sallie and Vera both called to Carolyn to come sing a song. Thankfully it was dark outside and the only lights were a few string lights surrounding the perimeter of the yard, so her friends couldn’t see how red her face was, still. Carolyn chose ‘My Life Would Suck Without You’ by Kelly Clarkson, which she so lovingly dedicated to her two best friends. About 10 minutes later, Carolyn saw Adrian come back to the backyard and began chatting with Andrew and Jaret, who were having a heated discussion on the current basketball season. Carolyn’s heart began pounding once again thinking of what had taken up 10 minutes of Adrian’s time.

After a few more songs, the friends from high school said goodbye, and the trio went back onto the trampoline. At this point in time, no one else was on the trampoline, so they laid down and just chatted. A few minutes later, the girls heard a collective low roar, with a few high-pitched screams and the pounding of footsteps. The girls propped themselves up and looked out to find the four boys and two girls running towards them. They all invaded the trampoline and started jumping around the girls. Sallie let out a quick squeal while Vera tried grabbing her brothers’ feet and pulling them down. Carolyn let out a quiet yell and tried to stand back up, but she kept being bounced back down. Carolyn turned to Vera’s tactic by grabbing feet and hands and trying to pull people down. She successfully pulled Sam down and tickled him until he begged her to stop. Then she grabbed Trixie and also successfully pulled her down. Carolyn reached out and blindly grabbed a hand, and pulled, but instead felt a strong grip around her hand pulling her up. She got to her feet and then the strong grip let go and allowed her to fall. She let out another yelp and looked up to see Adrian grinning down at her. Carolyn spun around and grabbed Adrian’s ankle; she yanked and was bounced up as Adrian crashed onto the trampoline. Adrian was laughing the whole time, then he turned his attention to Jaret and pulled him down. Soon enough, all the kids were on their backs laughing incessantly.

Janet and Brad came out to the trampoline and told Sam and Brittany that they needed to head to bed. At that, Adrian and Andrew gave their mother a kiss and went over to a friend’s house. Jaret went back inside to play video games. Trixie wanted to hang around, and the girls listened while she complained about how much 7th grade sucks. Eventually Trixie got tired and reluctantly went to bed. The three girls were left alone on the trampoline. They chatted about student council and how much of a popularity contest it all was. They discussed their teachers, which ones were the best and which ones were completely intolerable. Sallie talked about band, explaining that she got third to last chair, but the other people behind her were older than she is, so she was pretty happy about that. The conversations faded, and soon they heard faint snoring coming from Vera.

“We should bring her to bed.” Carolyn said. She and Sallie then shook Vera awake and they all went up to Vera’s room. They turned on the TV and all laid in Vera’s bed, with Carolyn in the middle. Vera promptly fell back asleep. Just as Sallie was drifting to sleep, she heard Carolyn quietly say, “Psst.”

“What is it Cara?” Sallie whispered, using a shortened version of her name not heard often.

“Something happened.” Carolyn whispered, barely audible.

“What do you mean?” Sallie propped herself up slightly, talking at a slightly louder volume.

 “Shh. I don’t want Vera to hear.” Carolyn’s eyes widened and Sallie sank back down into the bed.

“Okay you’re freaking me out, what?!” Sallie whispered and grabbed Carolyn’s arm.

“Okay, I went inside for a minute to get a quick breather during the party.” Carolyn started, pausing.

“Oh that’s where you went! We thought you were pooping.” Sallie laughed as quietly as she could.

Carolyn smiled, “No, but anyways. I was sitting on the couch in the sitting room looking outside, collecting my thoughts. Then Adrian came in and asked if I was okay. Which was nice.” Carolyn kept pausing between sentences, but Sallie was completely captured and wouldn’t dare to interrupt. “Then he sat down next to me. And. He put his hand on mine, which was nice. I assumed he was just doing that to calm me down.” Sallie shook her head wildly. “And I was talking about how loud this house is and how it’s hard to get used to. Then Adrian was like ‘oh sorry, I’ve tried to be quieter since you got here, I hope I haven’t kept you up’” Carolyn paused.

“Oh my god like what Vera was talking about at my house after the first day of school?” Sallie whispered incredulously.

“I don’t know, but that’s what I was thinking too! Then I was like ‘no it’s fine, I haven’t heard anything’ – which is true, I actually haven’t heard any of the noise Vera was talking about.” Carolyn added, because she knew that would be Sallie’s next question. “And he was like ‘well when John was here he’d always bring girls in through his window and kept everyone up’ – like with sex. Oh and his hand is still on my hands. Not like holding hands or anything, but his fingers were clasped a little around mine!” Carolyn was getting a little out of breath, feeling her heart pounding once again as she recounted the story. “And I said ‘oh well I haven’t heard you when you’ve brought girls in, so you must be pretty quiet.’”

“Wait, you said that?” Sallie asked, even more incredulous than before, tightening her grip on Carolyn’s arm.

 “I know, I couldn’t believe I said that but it just spilled out of my mouth!”

“Okay now I’m dying to know what he said!” Sallie was still whispering, but her excitement was palpable.

“Okay, get this – he was like ‘oh no, I don’t bring girls here like that, I would never do that to a girl.’” Carolyn paused.

“Wait so is that meaning like he hasn’t had sex or just like he would treat them better?” Sallie quickly asked.

“I don’t know, I have no idea.” Long pause. “Then afterwards I realized that it felt like we had been there forever and I really didn’t want someone to find us like that, so I got up and left.” Sallie loosened her grip and inhaled, getting ready to say something. “But then, I turned around and he was going upstairs. Like maybe he didn’t want to come out at the same time? Or maybe he had to go to the bathroom? But there was a bathroom right next to the sitting room.”

“Wait so you don’t think?” Sallie couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know, but I can tell you that he didn’t come back out to the backyard for another ten minutes.” Carolyn set down the heavy words that just sat in the air as Sallie reeled in. After a few moments, Sallie realized that Carolyn was done with her story.

“Okay what the hell was that? I am just flabbergasted. This is crazy. I don’t even understand! Like obviously all of Vera’s brothers are cute. But WOW. What does that even mean? Oh my gosh Vera cannot know about this. You cannot do anything with him! You know how crazy that would be? Vera would kill you! Plus, he’s a senior.” Sallie said all of this in basically one breath.

“Okay whoa slow down.” Carolyn tried to pull Sallie back in from where she was going, “Nothing is going to happen! It was just a weird moment and I knew you would understand the gravity of it. He was probably pooping anyways. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just never talk about this again.” Carolyn was thoroughly embarrassed thinking about Sallie’s comment of ‘doing anything with him’.  

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She could feel that Carolyn was about to shut down, “I’ll drop it, but if you ever need to talk to me about this, please do! And you have to tell me if anything else weird happens.”

“I will, but probably nothing will.” Carolyn confessed. Sallie quietly agreed, and the two girls quickly fell asleep.

Tags: @fierywords

[betweenheroesandvillains]

please please please, will you share your Opinions regarding radio with us as soon as you have time to do so?

Ok where do I start.

Well let's start with the“bigger picture” - Rammstein and the 1920s. Which kinda is thefirst perfect parallel. Because we all know Rammstein love toprovoke. They have literally made a career out of it. And is thereany era as provoking as the 20s, with as clearly a cut between “Howone is expected to behave” and “How one really behaves”? Ohdefinitely not. Listen, for everyone who isn't German. Imagine your20s. And now believe me when I tell you Berlin was worse. Far, farworse. Berlin in the 20s was basically sex drugs and rock'n'roll(obviously under a veneer of “respectability”, but Berlin was theworld's third biggest city at that point, AND there was no such thingas Prohibition going on) So let's say you were more than able to havea good time after nightfall, and Berlin's subcultures were prettyvaried. LGBT-stuff was, while not necessarily being condoned bysociety as a whole, kind of. Just there? Drinking and drugs were VERYavailable, especially for entertainers (Which is basically whatRammstein are...) It was all a very curious mix of the leftovers ofthe straight-laced monarchy with its rigid rules and the strangefreedom/despair after the breakdown of everything you have everknown. (A lot of people struggled tbh, especially in the first yearsbut... let's not get into that bc that would be going too far.

Basically, the privatelife of the 1920s is one big provocation towards older ideals, andthe sub-/nightculture of esp. Berlin is an even bigger provocationtowards the sheer veneer of a respectable bourgeois lifestyle

Now what else comes up inthe 20s? Mass media. Film, magazines, and (you'll have guessed it)the radio. This I think sort of is the main running gag and I CAN'TSTOP LAUGHING BECAUSE IT'S SO ANTICLIMCTIC because yeah in the 20sthere was radio but it cost money so people kinda illegally builttheir own radios and illegally tuned into the stations this is soridiculously funny and I think I shouldn't laugh but people haveliterally always pirated stuff.

Aaaaanyway now to come tothe Thrilling Point Where History And Slightly Closer HistoryInteract: the so-called “Schmutz- und Schundgesetz” (“Filth andTrash Law” [my translation]). Basically, the goal was to keep any“filthy media” away from “the kids”, and while (as far as Iknow) not invoked widely, it was censorship. Now what makes thisreally interesting is that in the GDR (where Rammstein grew up) thesame term (“Schmuzt- und Schundliteratur”) were used to describecensored literature. In the GDR, the media were state-controlled.While it technically wasn't illegal to listen to West-German radio,you were in deep shit if you got caught (which basically is thereason for most of Rammstein's slightly cryptic double entendre inthe lyrics but this too would lead us too far from the point). A lotof people still listened to Westradio, but if you did so, you madesure nobody knew you were doing it. You had your own private life(“How you really behave”) under a veneer of behaving as the stateexpected you to. And I KNOW this song is intensely personal forRammstein, and I THINK they are very conscious of this strongparallel.

TL;DR:

reaching out for aworld you cannot touch; navigating the space between your two lives,the one on the surface that you live for the state and the one youlive in private; provocation – the guys know exactly what they aredoing when they set this song to a 20s/early 30s background.

Thanks for coming to myted talk, come back when I rant on about the last 10 seconds incolour because they really did That.

[perksjust]

Fez travel

#Fez travel plus#

Have you been to Fès? What did you eat? Any recommendations to share? That’ll make you feel even better than the best dessert you can find in Fès (or anywhere else)! Or, better, just donate some cash when you arrive so that you can support both the local economy and literacy. Regardless of what you plan to do in Fès, pack a few Arabic books into your suitcase before you leave home to donate to the Medina Children’s Library.

#Fez travel plus#

My Fès restaurant advice - plus tips on some other things to do in Fès before dinner - are in this article: Food City: Fès. I was thrilled with the food I found in Fès, especially when I discovered two Canadian chefs cooking up a storm in the middle of the medina! Lucky me, because food is one of the main reasons I travel. One of the ways Moroccans express their hospitality is through food. Understanding others is the key to building relationships and communities and I believe travelling is the biggest influencer for laying those foundations.Welcome to Fès! I found these beautiful door knockers all over Morocco, and they signalled welcoming hospitality ( diyafa in Arabic). I want to see every country and experience the vast amount of food and culture the world has to offer. I am big believer that you can do anything you want, and if you want to travel or live somewhere else around the globe to see and taste new cultures then nothing can hold you back. I have lived in some stunning places and places I dreamed about growing up such as Antibes, Saint Tropez, Courchevel, London, Stockholm, Swiss alps and the Caribbean. I have had an interesting few years so this page is a place for myself to note down my stories and to remember the highlights throughout each year. I have now lived in 7 countries after working in Switzerland and then the British Virgin Island for the last 3 years. A lot of what I believed then I still believe now. 20 kilo grams was all I could take.Ī lot of what is written here I wrote back in 2013 it always interesting to read back on old notes or blogs. After completing my degree in International Business in 2010 I travelled to France in early 2011 to set up a new life with new experiences. This way I had always something to look forward too ( this helped me get through the boring times at University). Since I was 17 I have always made sure I have had a trip booked even if this meant travelling on my lonesome. I was lucky enough as a kid to go on a few family holidays and grow up in a household that constantly talked about travels and new cultures. My name is David Ferris and my nickname to many is ‘FEZ’. I am definitely not a great writer but hopefully my stories will come to life with poorly taken photos. I am now writing my scribbles of my life to inspire myself and remind myself of what I have achieved, seen and experienced. I started it as it became my means of communication, at the time I sometimes spent up to 8 days without human contact on the island I was managing so my communication to the outside world suddenly started to appear on paper.Īfter I left Sweden that summer I never returned to my smudgey poorly written scribble, 5 years on I am back, this time technology is saving me from blue inked stained left arm. I had never written down my own personal stories before not even at school. In 2013 while living on a remote island in the Swedish Archapoelico I started a small blog called 20kg house.