#i struggle with doing spec stuff because i have anxiety about originality for some reason. but with weather you cant really create somethin

[foxmulderautism]

finished private rites by julia armfield btw and now i have an itch to write something with strange weather phenomena

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Losing My Mind Part Eleven: Jack

all previous chapters are tagged under “losing my mind”

pairings: crack (jackcrutchie for all you nonbelievers), ralbert, spromeo, blush, newsbians, davey/happiness

friendships: crutchie and albert, specs and albert and crutchie, albert and les, specs and crutchie, mush and henry, race and crutchie, specs and katherine

warnings: all previous warnings, racism, violence, blood, self-hatred, burns, abuse, pretty boy used in a derogatory way, swearing, homophobia, panic attacks, a bunch of other horrible shit, uh albert low-key hates himself, ableism, lots of characters have depression, and quite a few have anxiety

editing: nope

pov: jack

You don’t know what happened, do you? Well I’m not surprised. Snyder won’t even let me tell the reader what’s going on! Wait, was I not supposed to say that? Probably not, but whatever.

You think I’m crazy now, don’t you?

You’re probably right.

Talking to myself in my head as if my life were a book that someone is reading.

Anyways, I remember waking up in the basement.

Race was still on the floor in the middle of the room.

When Race woke up I told him about my closet, but he didn’t say much to me.

And then Snyder came back.

“Tell me about the strike and I’ll let you go back upstairs.” He said.

I said no.

So did Race.

Snyder scowled and said he’d give us one more chance.

We refused.

So Snyder tied my wrists together and soaked Race.

I had to watch, helpless, as Snyder landed hit upon hit on my brother.

Race didn’t say anything, just let the hits come.

I tried to move across the room to help him, but my leg and restrained wrists prevented me from doing so.

I hated seeing him in pain like that.

But I think Snyder got bored with Race though, or even just frustrated, because soon he dragged Race away, out of the basement.

And then Snyder came back to deal with me.

My leg hurt a lot.

Snyder stomped on it, kept his boot pressed down on the surely splintered bone until I would say that one word.

I didn’t want to, I really didn’t.

But you don’t get it, I was weak, I was hurt.

“I can do worse.” Snyder growled.

“I ain’t gonna cave.” I said through gritted teeth.

“Or maybe I’ll just go through every one of your newsies until I get what I want. I’m sure that little boy can’t take as much pain as you can, Kelly.”

“No! Don’t!”

“Give me a reason.”

I didn’t have a choice.

“Davey!” I gasped. “He’s the brains!”

The pressure on my leg receded, and I regretted it.

I was put back in my closet and I was forced to listen to the conversation between Davey and Snyder.

Forced to listen as Davey took the beating I gave him.

I’m sick of being stuck.

Tied up in a closet while my brothers are suffering.

It’s been mostly quiet for today, but now I can hear yelling through the door, and I know that can’t be good for me.

“You can’t- you’re not- fine!”

There’s a crash and a swear, and I tense my shoulders, preparing for my closet to open and the next beating to begin.

And the door opens, and I am indeed greeted with a kick to my ribs, but instead of more hits I only get pulled up by my shirt collar and dragged out of the closet.

He can’t be taking me back to the basement, not this soon.

I told him Davey’s name, even if it was a day ago.

No, he’s not taking me to the basement, he just wants me at a better angle to put me in even worse pain.

And even worse pain I get.

I can feel blood dripping down from my nose, splattering across my shirt in shiny red drops, and Snyder’s fists feel like they’re made of fire.

He’s shouting at me, but it’s just the normal stuff I’m used to.

Useless, good for nothing, son of a bitch, bastard, disgusting, the list goes on and on.

I stay still and take the soaking, hoping that he just needs a punching bag to release his anger.

“You’re weak, Sullivan. Can’t even fight back anymore!” Snyder sneers.

“You’re an asshole.” I choke out through the blood.

“Pathetic. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“At least I have the balls to fight for myself.”

“You’re not even fighting, Sullivan.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Can’t stand to live anything but your same old lie?”

“Let go of me and you’ll see.” I snarl.

“Fine.” Snyder shoots back.

I fall right on my ass, back still against the wall.

I don’t have enough strength in my leg to stand up.

I feel weak, stupid.

Snyder is laughing at me, he thinks this is hilarious.

“I think you need to learn to watch your mouth.”

His boot digs into my ribcage, and I grunt in pain.

Then he lifts me up my by shirt collar and drags me out of his office.

He must be taking me to the basement now, where else could he be taking me?

I’m scared.

I’m scared.

I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m-

“Your fearless leader.”

I’m on the floor of a bunk room, my arms in front of me, trying to catch my fall, and leg sprawled out awkwardly behind me.

Snyder’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, and he’s addressing everyone in the room.

Which room am I in?

Three, with Ten Pin and Grates?

Eight, with Split and Rob?

I push myself up with my forearms and I lift my head to see.

It’s all of my boys.

Every single one of them.

Mush, Finch, Mike, Specs, Elmer, every single one.

I knew Crutchie was here, I knew Race was here, I could assume Albert was here from Snyder’s reference to him, I knew Davey was here because I heard him through the door, but I didn’t know they were all here.

All of my newsies, everyone I swore to protect, everyone that I promised would never be put in this hell.

I failed.

I’m seeing all of them right in front of me.

And they’re all seeing me.

Every broken part.

I think Snyder leaves, because suddenly people are surrounding me.

“Give ‘im some space!” Mush directs.

Davey is here, in front of me, so is Race.

“Where’s Crutchie?”

I shouldn’t have asked that, I really shouldn’t have, but I can’t bring myself to care at this point.

Specs is here now, acting as a temporary crutch for Crutchie.

Crutchie, the only person I want to see for the rest of my life.

“Charlie,” I breathe, not caring who’s around. “I-I’se sorry.” I swallow my original statement, replacing it with a trademark guilty Jack Kelly apology.

“Don’t apologize, ya idiot.” Crutchie says, his voice both hard and soft. Race doesn’t say anything, just reaches forward to untie my wrists.

“He got ya shoulder again.” Specs comments.

“Sure did.”

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to pretend everything is fine when it’s clearly not.

“I can set it.”

“Thanks.”

Specs gets me.

He doesn’t talk too much or take too long to say what he’s thinking.

He’s quick to get to the point.

I lay down on my back, and Specs takes my right arm in his hands.

“Mush, grab me a sheet or somethin’.” Specs asks.

Mush nods and steps away.

I draw in a tight gasp of pain as Specs applies pressure to my shoulder and it pops back into place.

Mush hands Specs a sheet, and Specs wraps it tightly around my shoulder.

“Just dislocated, but ya should be careful for a little while.” Specs says matter of factly.

“Can-what the hell can he want this time!”

Loud footsteps again, and it seems impossible that Snyder can be back again after an absence of no more than five minutes.

“Line up.” The order comes as soon as the door slams back open, and the boys surrounding me all scramble into place. Specs helps Crutchie stand, and Mush helps me.

“I ain’t got all day!” Snyder shouts, and we’re suddenly standing in a line, not single file, but spread out so we can all see him and he can see all of us.

Snyder paces back and forth in front of us, scowling at every boy he faces.

He eventually comes to a stop directly in front of Albert, whose eyes are alight with both fear and defiance.

“You. Pretty Boy.”

I clench my fists, ready to do whatever it takes to keep my little brother from getting hurt, but Mush’s hand is clenched firmly on my shoulder, he knows what I’m about to do.

He knows how stupid it is, and I know it too, but I can’t let him take Albert.

“Don’t.” Mush whispers under his breath.

I grit my teeth and let Mush hold me back.

For now.

“What?” Albert asks the man facing him, his tone snarky. “Ow, fuck!”

Snyder has a fistful of Albert’s hair, nearly yanking it from his skull.

“Sir.” Snyder says shortly.

Albert’s teeth are clenched in pain, and I can tell he’s trying to avoid meeting eye contact with Snyder.

“There’s no need to call me sir, Spider.” He chokes out, somehow managing to plaster a grin on his face.

Snyder growls in frustration and anger and throws Albert backwards. He lands on the floor on his back.

“Get up and follow me.” Snyder turns on his heel and stalks back to the door as Albert struggles to push himself up off the floor. Race rushes to help him, taking his hand and pulling him up.

“Please, don't go. Lemme-”

“No, Racer.”

“But I-”

Albert opens his mouth to say something else, but apparently thinks better of it and stops himself. He gently tugs his arm away from Race’s grasp, takes off his hat, and puts it on Race’s head. Then he walks across the room to where Snyder is waiting in the doorway.

“Good boy.” Snyder sneers approvingly.

“Fuck you!” Albert shouts, shoving him against the side of the doorway.

And then the door slams shut and the lock clicks back into place, Snyder and Albert on the other side.

The room is silent for a moment, but then it all shatters.

Race runs to the door, banging his fists against the wood and shouting for Albert. Tommy Boy is the one to go up to him and pull him away.

“They’se just gonna get mad, Racer.” He says.

“I don’t care!” Race screams, his voice higher than usual. “I can’t let ‘im-” Race’s voice breaks, and he stops fighting Tommy for a second.

“I can’t...” He whispers, falling completely into Tommy’s grasp, his body limp. “Please...”

I can’t handle this.

I can’t handle being back here, having to be a leader and a parent and strong and confident and everything in the world at once.

I’m in so much pain, more than I could’ve ever imagined, I want to scream and cry and end this miserable existence.

“I’m taking a nap.” I say, and Mush helps me hobble over to an empty bunk.

I collapse on the mattress and let much needed sleep overtake me.

it’s a mess now but i promise this fic will have a happy ending

TAG LIST @broadwaybooksandbagels @somekindaspacecadet @tea-and-theater @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @auspicioustarantula @dancingpenss @suddenly-im-respectable @have-we-got-news-for-you @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @funnyihope @snakesarenonexistent @pansalexual @sunshine-e-cigarettes

[captainignatiuspigheart]

Gosh time really does fly, while simultaneously flexing with all the integrity of sun-warmed chewing gum… so, yeah, it’s Friday already and I haven’t completed my sole personal task of the week – recording what the I’ve watched and done. Obviously I’ve done relatively little, except drunk spectacular quantities of beer and gazed listlessly at our blossoming lilac tree. That’s right: I’ve been outside! In fact, I spent most of last week outside. Work very kindly ordered us some desks in an attempt to aid good workspace habits, since I’ve been sitting on the sofa with my laptop on my knees for six weeks or so… It’s a nice little desk, but it does rather fill our front room. The brightening weather gave me ideas! After a day sitting under said lilac tree I got quite enthusiastic, ordering a WIFI extender thing (with antennae! Must be good.) and unfurling the gazebo. I even went so far as to lay out four of the concrete slabs that have been stacked in our garden for more than a decade, pending the creation of a patio. It was quite lovely. I spent my days in sunshine, watching the cats race around the garden, the gentle scent of lilac and roses wafting into my hardworking face. Pretty nice week all round really.

Reading: The Human (Rise of the Jain #3) by Neal Asher

I don’t often pre-order books (I know, as a publishing person I should know better…) but that’s mostly because by to-be-read stack both physical and digital is absurd. The coronavirus means I want things to look forward to! I’ve been reading Asher’s Polity books for years – fast-paced military space opera with great intergalactic conflict, high tech, terrifying aliens and engaging heroes. The set up… it’s an advanced human civilisation slowly taken over by the AIs we built, so that now Earth Central is a massively powerful AI who runs the whole show, and much better than we ever managed. The AIs do have a ruthlessly utilitarian slant though, and while mostly that means they do make life better for the majority, sometimes it means they sacrifice whole worlds to save the rest of the Polity… This is so far into the story that it’s near impossible to summarise what’s going on! Ancient alien technology – the Jain – enables nano-(and even pico-)engineering on a thrilling scale, but is horribly prone to taking over its user and sequestering every resource in sight, utterly destroying the civilisation that tried to use it. A vast array of active Jain tech has been swirling around the heart of a galaxy for millions of years. For the last few hundred years, Orlandine, a vastly upgraded “haiman”, half AI, half human who has seemingly tamed Jain tech for her own purposes, as well as the gnomic moon-sized alien entity, Dragon, have been preventing it from escaping and wreaking havoc.

That all went spectacularly tits up in the last book, and this is the final struggle to contain the Jain before it wipes out everyone. This installment really builds on the transhuman character development of Orlandine, the Polity AIs, the horrifying crab-like human-munching aliens, the Prador, and a host of other characters, many of them infected with Jain ambition among other things. It’s impossibly epic, with vast stakes, finally revealing the true dangers of the alien tech and a lot more about where it truly comes from. As a huge fan of the universe, I was delighted by this, even if the ending comes about a little quickly. Fear not though, there are plenty of hints at what is still unknown, and critical figures are conspicuously absent. Bring on the next trilogy please!   

Building: LEGO Y-Wing Starfighter – LEGO 75181

Ermagherd, is I believe, how the young folk express their fondness for a thing. It is how I should like to express my fondness for this splendid build! This is the first UCS (ultimate collector series) I’ve had the chance to assemble, and I’m pretty impressed. In truth, I nicked it from work (sliced open the box and emptied it into a rucksack, walks away whistling etc), and probably would not have bought it for myself. It’s Star Wars, so it’s huge and mostly grey. The Y-Wings are rightly iconic for getting blown to pieces above various Death Stars, but they look so damned cool. I’ve already got a LEGO Y-Wing, now that I think about it – the 1999 edition that came with a tie-fighter. It was rad at the time, but this massive set comprehensively blows it out of the water and vaporises the lake it was skimming over. At a mere 1967 pieces, I was confident that I could build it in an evening, but naturally failed. Instead it dominated an entire Saturday afternoon while I watched more of season two of Agents of SHIELD (which I’ve had to pause to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers: Age of Ultron because the latter takes place around episode 20!). Rarely have I spent a Saturday afternoon so productively!

New school

Old school

Beginnings…

Like a lot of the larger LEGO vehicles I’ve built, there are plenty of time when I have no idea what I’m assembling. This one went through a canal barge to crucifix stage pretty quickly, and as soon as the cockpit clips in it’s instantly recognisable. That cockpit itself is loaded with clever building tricks to give it a smooth and curved underside as neat as the top, sneaky stuff to invert the direction of the studs. It’s stuff I’m terrible at in my own building and I’m keen to learn from it. The nacelles have simpler tactics for allowing intense greebling all the way round the square pillars. The greeblage is mighty all over the back and underside of the Y-Wing. One of the things I often admire about official LEGO sets is the masterful balance of detailing, whether it’s in a scatter of cheese slopes, a light touch in patterning brick colours, or in this – while there’s a lot of detailing, it’s not so insanely overdone that it detracts from the model at a distance. The Y-Wing looks fantastically good, such a nice version of the film designs. There are though a bunch of stickers to apply on the cockpit which stressed me out to apply neatly. Not half as much as the massive sticker for the info plaque though. It really shouldn’t generate such anxiety! Nevertheless, I think I got it on perfectly. 

The minifigs are great, as you’d expect, with a finely detailed Gold leader and a shiny silver R2-BHD astromech.  Yeah, I love this thing. It is way too big to put anywhere in our house, sadly, but it will come apart into three neat pieces for transporting back to work once all this is over. Lamentably, having assembled this one, I now find myself eyeing up the far smaller A-Wing that’s just been released. That’s definitely shelf-sized…

Sticker hell

This has displaced a cat

Too big

Watching: Star Trek: Picard

We’d been waiting for all the episodes to be released on Amazon Prime before we began this. Our preference is definitely bingeing hard, rather than the agonising wait till next week. I’ve not reflected much on the change in our viewing habits in the last decade, but I think I’m getting more enjoyment from being deeply embedded in a show for a couple of weeks than dipping in and out of several simultaneously. However, I fear I’m going to have to do a second watch of Picard, because unlike Discovery which I adored from beginning to end, I just don’t know what to think of this new spin-off. Perhaps we’ll find out while I ramble…

The character of Jean-Luc Picard is obviously great – Patrick Stewart made Star Trek: The Next Generation come alive, and even though a lot of it is barely watchable now, the interactions of Captain Picard and his close-knit crew are delightful. TNG set the ground for the vastly superior Deep Space Nine that followed, with its huge and rewarding story arcs advancing the previous episodic narrative. With the exception of the Borg episodes, TNG never got the opportunity to do that, and with the similar exception of First Contact, its follow up movies are dreadful, though none as bad at those of the original series. I’ve been without Picard since First Contact in 1996 (holy fuck, how long?!), though the aforementioned dodgy movies have continued. So, a twenty year or so wait to return, that’s pretty high stakes. 

Picard disabuses us pretty quickly of this being a high action show like Discovery. In a curiously similar vein to the new Star Wars movies’ Luke Skywalker story, Picard is long retired from Star Fleet, having been fired/quit when Star Fleet backed away from a commitment to help resettle the peoples of Romulus after their home planet got fried. He’s spent the rest of the time chilling in his vineyard home, tended by ex-secret service Romulans and generally doing fuck all but seethe that Star Fleet let him down. He’s run away from his responsibilities, having failed to be the man he thought he was. Enter a young (spoiler) human-passing android on the run from some dudes trying to kill her. She doesn’t know she’s an android but knows a lot of stuff, is super-fast and knows she needs to find Picard. It’s no shock to discover that she’s Data’s daughter, somehow. But she gets offed by some more Romulan spec ops bad guys, and Picard’s off on a mission to find her twin sister, save the galaxy, stop the Romulans etc. 

Since Picard’s no longer Star Fleet he has to assemble a rag tag crew (stop me if you’ve heard this one before) since Star Fleet really don’t like him any more. The pacing is glacial at times, and it’s hard to understand what they’re actually aiming for in this. It takes ages to get into space (which is all fabulously Star Warsy rather than the Trek we’ve seen before) where we finally catch up with a ruined Borg cube that’s being rehabilitated by Romulans (for reasons I honestly can’t recall), and on which the android twin is working, while dating an actual piece of shit Romulan secret secret secret service guy who’s part of an inner circle dedicated to wiping out all synthetic life. 

There is a lot of great stuff in here – Seven of Nine’s return is a delight, Riker!, learning that Romulan assassin folk are just feudal Japanese folk, complete with haircuts and robes is peculiar, but kinda fun, and eventually a lot of things happen, quite fast. Picard nearly dies, they find more androids, he saves the day. I don’t honestly consider that to be a spoiler! The whole show is soaked in nostalgia, which is only partly rubbing off on me. If there weren’t so many people involved, and such cool design work going on I’d write it off as a vanity project. It’s definitely more than that, but I don’t know what… Watch it, if you’re into Trek, otherwise I cannot imagine this having any appeal at all.  

Doing: Virtual Improv Drop-In with MissImp

Last week’s new improv workshop was with Stephen Davidson, who’s just the loveliest and most passionate guy. His workshop is a real delight! Enjoy.  

  Last Week: The Human, Star Trek Picard and LEGO UCS Y-Wing - fun times with new Trek, splendid Neal Asher space opera and another fun MissImp online workshop! @missimp_notts #nottgoingout @nealasher #picard #books #lego @lego Gosh time really does fly, while simultaneously flexing with all the integrity of sun-warmed chewing gum… so, yeah, it’s Friday already and I haven’t completed my sole personal task of the week – recording what the I’ve watched and done.