#like not even joking i have to be her number one listener like so /srs there is no way

[sillycyan]

This whole album is so good but I've got lines from this certain song stuck in my head..

[sslow-dancer]

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

[cupidlakes]

sending you a bit of positivity!! you're definitely my favorite george enjoyer out there and whenever i see him do anything slightly endearing or out of the ordinary i look forward to checking out your thoughts afterwards :) i wish everyone lurked on your account every now and then bc you notice and appreciate all the small things gnf does and really help understand him as a person, which a lot of people don't do. in fact, i almost wish he could see it too bc he should know he isn't taken for granted :D but you just seem like such a kind and fun person with educated opinions and i randomly like your speech/typing patterns :p lastly, i wanted to ask if you have any more or less specific wishes for streams george could do and i hope your day gets better!

:’( ok genuinely i can’t explain how much this warmed my heart i’ve been very anxious and generally frustrated/emotional recently but this was a v sweet pick-me-up and i’m so grateful seriously!!! at the end of the day i think my number 1 wish is and always has been to get ppl to appreciate george a little more and if i’ve done that then i’m srs SO happy + i just want ppl to see what i see :]]

and when it comes to wishes for george streams… hmm (under the cut bc this’ll get Long)

something totally doable and i’d personally Really love is for george to pick up his hp game! it’s obvious atp but i’m an avid enjoyer of more chill gnf content, where he doesn’t feel like he has to play Up as much and can unwind a little, other than that i’ve seen ppl air wishes for a bob ross painting tutorial stream :0 which sounds genuinely so fun and also interesting bc george likes following instructions to a t (“i don’t dabble in inaccuracies” is probably one of my favourite gnf quotes) but obviously art isn’t his forte lol and his colourblindness might yield a “challenge” but i also think the fact that it’d be his own unique spin on it would be really cool

umm i guess i’d also really like george to replay some old challenges at one point bc i love listening to him drop little tidbits abt the coding process and you can tell he feels a lot of pride abt his work and also maybe a coding stream in general??? before i wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of him doing one bc he’s very conscious abt the ~entertainment value~ when he decides what he wants to stream but i think he’s picking up on the fact that ppl are interested! and even mentioned so in an alt stream, a baking stream could be fun, a cooking stream w ~another person~ aka one of the uk mcyters could be great!! this is complete self indulgence and delusion but a wilbur and george stream where they play their guitars and wilbur teaches george a song or something would HITTT, more vlogs in general :0 gnf goes to the park? what will he do… endanger his life probably, sol (comradegeorge) at one point divulged this idea actually of george doing a survival world where the seed is an endless mooshroom biome bc apparently there is a way to play the game like that, it’s more of a challenge! and it was inspired by george making a joke abt doing exactly that in his 1.17 update stream here’s her post abt it !!

george delving into playing more older games generally would be the besttt i think but that’s totally biased and idk if he actually would, it was just interesting to hear him bring up “childhood nostalgia” games like ratchet and clank and simpsons hit and run on karls alt stream and it got me thinking

i have so many more ideas but this got so long and seriously anything george thinks he’d have fun w i know i’d enjoy, tbh i’m not the biggest fan of geoguessr for example but when it was his and dreams thing for a while the streams were still very fun and entertaining for their commentary and his reactions :] i just want george to be self indulgent sometimes!! if you wanna play that game PLAY it

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Eduardo Dorado Jr. with an s/o who is a Scientist

amateurwriterbigdreamer said: Could I request Eduardo dorado jr with a university student who is a metahuman and a scientist so she gets along with his father causing Eduardo dorado jr to feel left out?

You were interning at S.T.A.R. labs

That’s how you met Eduardo

You were a couple years older and an incredibly intelligent, beautiful woman

It was no surprise that Eduardo developed a huge crush on you

At a young age, he thought he was handling it well but, on your side, it was painfully obvious

He would get super blushy and embarrassed and still try to flirt with you

Which was kind of adorable

Because he was no nervous, he would end up messing up his lines

“Um, did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Did it hurt when you became an angel?”

“.... Do you mean ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’?”

“Because you look like an angel!! Thank you!!”

“Sure.”

You indulged him of course because you just couldn’t bear to break his little heart

But you never ever returned his flirting

You just listened to them

One of the reasons that you never shot him down was because his father told you not to

Ed was always more compliable and cooperative during routine checks

He tried to impress you and didn’t lose his temper as quickly as he used to

And that helped with the experiment, which you were hired to do so you agreed

And however pathetic it may sound, you felt special that someone was so infatuated with you

He would hover around you, asking questions about what you’re doing even though he’d never understand what when you did explain to him

He’d still offer his opinion though even though it wasn’t really appropriate

“I think you look really hot next to that thing, babe.”

“It’s a particle collider, Ed. And don’t call me babe.”

“Noted.”

He’d get really jealous too when you would hang out with his father because at the time, he wasn’t on good terms with him

He’d get huffy and upset

“Ed, your father is my boss, I kind of have to.”

“I know...”

Your relationship just remained that way because you knew nothing would ever come from it

He was way too young for you and it was creepy

And even though you were expecting a confession from him, when you finally received it you were incredibly surprised

“I like you, (Y/N), will you please be my girlfriend?”

You really didn’t want to shoot him down because he would never forget it

“Um, you know I’m too old for you, Ed. It’s not right.”

“Age is just a number.”

“So is 911.”

He looked so disappointed; you just couldn’t find it in your heart to leave him then

So, you just ruffled his hair and said

“Tell you what, you ask me again when you’re a few inches taller than me and I promise I will think about it.”

He sent you such a blinding grin you thought a little fib was worth it

Besides, when he actually got to the height, he would totally forget about this

At least that’s what you thought

You saw him for the last time when he was escaping

You were on the phone with his father, looking around for the Runaways

And you did find them

You just stared at Ed for the longest time as he silently pleaded for you not to say anything

“Yeah, I’m here, no, they’re, they’re nowhere to be found.”

He gave you a huge hug and you ruffled his hair again

“Be safe, okay?”

“I promise I’ll come back and ask you when I’m taller.”

“Haha, I’ll hold you do it.”

You don’t see him again for a couple years, you were sent to another country to intern

But you returned after learning something very important

You were a meta

The first person you thought to contact was Ed Sr. because he had the most experience with this

That was when you met Ed again

And oh boy

Puberty was extremely kind to him, and you felt extremely disgusted with yourself when you couldn’t seem to get your eyes off him

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.”

“So, am I tall enough for you yet?”

“Kind of sudden don’t you think?”

“I don’t think so, I’ve been waiting 4 years.”

You couldn’t really tell if he was being serious or joking but you chose to ignore it

You just couldn’t get past the fact that he used to be so tiny

You couldn’t stop seeing him that way

To no one’s surprise, you still hover around the labs

You help the justice league by performing DNA fingerprinting and such

As always, Ed still helps you around

He’s become more mature than you realize

Earlier he always used to flirt with you and it sometimes seemed like his life revolved around you

But now it was different

You could speak like equals now

It made you realize how much you would just brush him off as a kid

Everything he used to think and say at the time was just something that he’d grow out of

Now you’re realizing that he’s much more profound and intelligent that you gave him credit for

It makes you see him in a different light

Then you begin to feel all awkward and embarrassed around him

And extremely annoyed with yourself that you like a kid

So, you begin to avoid him until these feelings go away

But Ed quickly corners you and asks you why

“I just, I’ve been having feelings for you lately.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“You’re just a kid, Ed.”

“I’m not a kid anymore...I’ve grown up now.”

“I still see you that way though, and it’s embarrassing and weird that I’ve begun to have feelings for you now.”

“Well instead of making yourself feel guilty, you should try and look at me differently.”

He waits until you’re ready

Extremely patient and it makes you fall even more to be honest

Since him being taller that you was basically what started this whole thing

You better believe he is making some short jokes

“How’s the weather down there?”

Uses your head as an arm rest

Sometimes pretends not to see you

But also uses your shorter self to an advantage

Corners you against the wall

Towers over you many times

Does that thing when you’re reaching from something, he just comes behind you and then you’re all close and warm

He still spends time with you in the lab

Until he’s caught making out with you on the table and then gets banned

He also helps you train and get control of your powers

Makes out with you on the training mats too

He gets insecure that you may still think of him as a kid

How does he get rid of those fears?

By kissing you until you can’t feel your legs

And therefore, everyone finds you making out most of the time

He loves that you’re so intelligent

Like loves it

So much so that he actually brags about it

Also talks about you a lot to his friends who are not impressed

“You know, (Y/N) said this the other day.”

“She would look so good in that.”

“She loves to eat that.”

“Maybe I should bring something home for her?”

“We get it, you have a girlfriend!”

People would expect you to mother him and you do most of the times

But Ed also takes care of you a lot

You get stressed and sometimes extremely overwhelmed because your career is just as important to you as your abilities

Ed is the one who keeps track of your self-care

Also fusses around you like his abuela when you’re not taking care of yourself

He also feels extremely comforted by the fact that you’re older than him because he knows whenever he needs advice, he can go to you

Because you’re more experienced and a lot smarter than him

He never makes you feel the age gap though

And when people make jokes about it, even though they meant for it to be harmless, Ed is there just looking like they might as well have shot you

All in all, regardless of age, he is a great boyfriend

[wedreamedlove]

Speech Quirks in MLQC

Archived Reddit post but this is the improved and updated version. I've linked the Reddit one though because @sharinluna made fantastic comments which I hadn't considered.

Spoilers include content up to Chapter 18 and some unreleased calls and cards. None of these are plot lines though, just snippets to support their speech quirks. Also, my eternal disclaimer is that I'm pulling from CN lines so don't be alarmed if the quotes differ.

BAI QI

The cutest habit this man has is defaulting into a sincere and solemn tone whenever he doesn't know how to respond to MC. He's so genuine it hurts. It's especially apparent when he goes along with weird topics.

Here are some examples of Bai Qi being an adorably confused puppy but trying to do his best. He always takes MC's concerns seriously:

[CN Soaked Heart SSR Misunderstanding Date] Context is they keep misunderstanding each other today. "Though I don't understand women's hearts, yours is the only one I don't want to get wrong. Can you give me some more time?"

[Lightbath SSR Tenderness] Context is after he excessively praises MC to her embarrassment. "I'm sorry, maybe it's because I didn't convey it well enough. But I just wanted to express all my thoughts out. Next time, I hope I can use a better way to express them to you."

[Summer Loving SSR Undo Fail Call] Context is MC having a terrible day and mis-sent her messages to Bai Qi. "If you don't want to go to work then you can take a day off. As for your hairline... how about..."

[Blaze Up SSR Age Rage Call] Bai Qi takes MC's opening extremely seriously, thinking something happened, before having a small laugh at her being called "auntie" by the boy. But he immediately regains his seriousness to talk it over with her.

It's not that Bai Qi doesn't get jokes, but his response to them tends to be serious too (which leads to unintentional killer lines). I think his humor tends towards more of the deadpan kind, like Li Zeyan (except Li Zeyan has some witty sharpness).

I've also seen people mention this phrase and I love it because it encapsulates him so well: Bai Qi is either shy and blushes or he goes straight for the kill LOL.

Here are some examples of lines that may sound sleazy or too flirty if they weren't delivered in such a straight and sincere manner LOL:

[Cold Shower R Refreshing Moments] When you pick the choice saying you thought he was going to upload a picture he goes: "Um... I can DM you." I've seen that he uses a smiley in English but it's not there in Chinese.

[Against the Light SR Sweet Bomb Moments] When you pick the choice saying that he's become cola-flavored he asks: "What do I normally taste like?"

[2018 Valentine's Text] I chose a conversation path which had me telling Bai Qi that he needs to get used to pet hair if he's going to raise a pet and that one day I'd like to raise one. He seriously promises to do his best to get used to pet hair and asks to raise one together.

[Grocery Moments] When you pick the choice that he can use his other hand to carry bags he answers simply: "My other hand is for holding yours, so I can't use it."

Honestly, the takeaway in Bai Qi's speech is the unconditional support and love he gives to MC. He never questions her feelings about things, and oftentimes vehemently objects to her thinking she's bothering him or that her problems are trivial or silly.

He wants to hear about her happy news, her sad news, and everything about her. (I joke that Bai Qi is the perfect fit for the meme where it's like "Why are you crying?" "Oh, it's just these onions" "What the hell did you say to my girlfriend!?").

He always gives a heads up before he acts, even though he generally tends to be moving already. Like going to pick up MC in the rain or at any other location.

I wouldn't be surprised if some of this came from his family life. Through his Rumors and Secrets and [Seize SSR Sad Thoughts Call] you can get an idea that his mother didn't have any standing with his father, often got cut off, and nothing she wanted or felt mattered.

Even though Bai Qi was young at that time it probably left a mark on him because he never does that with MC; he lets her express herself before he brings up any of his feelings. Her feelings are always valid, but he does tend to be a proactive fixer and provides solutions if he can (much like Li Zeyan). Bai Qi will try to solve MC's problems, but I'm sure if she just wanted to rant then he'll gladly listen (ex. [Blaze Up SSR Age Rage Call]).

One other notable thing is that, in Asian cultures, social harmony is very important and that's why there's a culture around speaking indirectly and preserving the other person's dignity.

So Bai Qi's indifference and ability to cut straight to the point probably doesn't stand out that much in the West but it's actually a bit shocking and impactful in Chinese. Especially because he doesn't shy away from expressing his feelings. He might stutter, cough, clear his throat, and be all embarrassed but then he just delivers monologues of blunt emotion (ex. [Love Of My Life SSR Goodnight Wish & Wish Calls]).

I find that Bai Qi and Li Zeyan are the most stereotypical types of masculinity among the four men.

ZHOU QILUO

As always, I need to thank my Luoluo-loving friend for the discussion here because I always have the least thoughts on him. Oops.

I don't think I'd be wrong in saying he has the most range among all the men. He gets to play with a pouting baby voice, his acting hero voice, his KEY voice, his Helios voice, and then his normal voice.

He has a harder speech habit to pin down because of this massive range, but I think you can catch how he leans into a sly or teasing tone. He's very quick with comebacks and jokes and I'd say he's the first to establish an inside joke with MC (both being each other's superheroes).

He and MC have a relationship where they're both building each other up. If Bai Qi provides unconditional support and acceptance then Zhou Qiluo is all about cheering her on whenever possible.

It's also interesting to point out that even though he's so emotive on the outside, when things are serious he goes deadly quiet and calm. You can see that in Chapter 8, 14, and his Helios persona in Chapter 17. They say watch out for the quiet ones, but more like watch out for the people who use their jokes and loudness to hide their quiet intensity.

I'm not sure how clear this came across in English but Luoluo notably repeats himself on several occasions in Chinese. It's sad because it's like he's reassuring the person he's talking to and himself at the same time.

[Main Story 14-20] "It'll be okay, it'll definitely be okay [...] You'll be okay."

[Main Story 14-20] "Miss Chips, wait for me... will you wait for me?"

I've also noticed that, even though he tries to be as genuine as possible, he's actually not as emotionally open as someone like Bai Qi. Luoluo tends to bring up his own emotions in a third-person or hypothetical perspective. For example:

[Call after Main Story 11-8: Important Decision] Luoluo calls and talks around the subject of an important decision he needs to make (aka. turning into Helios) and whether or not MC would be able to accept him if he changed completely into another person.

[CN ASMR Bear Cub's Troubles] He tells a story about a number of bears doing things and they're clearly supposed to represent him but he never admits that either.

We're about to hear much more from Helios but, as a start, he's extremely curt. Luoluo is definitely pulling an opposite here with his speech style, but it's neat how you can hear tones of Zhou Qiluo throughout too.

See, there's these things called modal particles in Chinese that you stick on the end of your sentences to give them meaning, emphasize meaning, strengthen meaning, or soften the meaning and tone.

Luoluo has the habit of using one 啊 (ah) which can have all these sort of meanings and other ones you just sort of pick up on:

[attached to the end of a sentence to indicate admiration]

[attached to the end of a sentence to show approval or self-protectiveness or to urge or enjoin]

[attached to the end of a sentence to indicate doubt]

[sign of pause in the middle of a sentence to draw attention to what one is going to say next]

[attached to the end of each item enumerated]

In Luoluo's case it makes his sentences sound more excited and younger and goes really well with his bright atmosphere. However, when he's Helios, this modal particle is dropped completely. Helios is flat, blunt, and basically pulling a Li Zeyan LOL.

XU MO

I think I've talked way too much about how Xu Mo is a wordsmith LOL but I'm always impressed by how he can corner MC into accepting his invitations without it being creepy. But I suppose this is a point of contention due to localization decisions and voice direction.

Putting that aside, it has to be noted that Xu Mo asks for a lot of permission. His speech style is designed to get you to lower your guard as much as possible, which I've touched on in my wordsmith post.

Again, returning to modal particles, Xu Mo has ones that basically gives all his sentences a "May I?" "Could I?" "Would you...?" style.

[Sound of Silence SSR The Little Prince Call] "Would you like to hear what I have to say?"

[Call after Main Story 3-1: Movie Invitation] "Then, would this lady be willing to watch Manhattan with me this Sunday?"

[CN Archery Date] "May I ask this lady here for some assistance?"

To be more specific, he uses a lot of 吧 (ba) which has these sort of meanings (the first one especially):

[a particle used at the end of the sentence to indicate discussion, suggestion, request, or instruction]

[an indication of agreement or approval at the end of the sentence]

[an indication of doubt or guess at the end of the sentence]

[an indication of uncertainty in the sentence]

[it can express a pause, tone of assumption, difficulty in making a choice, or dilemma in the sentence]

You can imagine how much this softens his sentences right? It's why he's so good at sounding disarming LOL and then you walk away and take 5 seconds to realize he said something alarming and/or got you to accept a date.

On another note, much like Bai Qi, Xu Mo quietly accepts all of MC's feelings and doubts. But he's much more of a natural at gently refuting her points and wording things in a way that helps her mature slowly (a big theme with him).

Compared to the others, he checks more often on whether MC wants to listen to his opinion before he gives it. Or, he supports his view from an empirical standpoint (like how he's been the adviser to Miracle Finder pretty much at the beginning and seen her growth from there).

Because of how his speech habit is designed to be soft when he's Xu Mo, it makes his Ares persona really interesting. He drops his softeners and speaks in a more clipped tone but he still maintains his politeness.

At the news conference in Chapter 16 you can hear how he uses starts using rhetoric to push the MC around (as a mix between Ares and cold Xu Mo). He actively challenges her opinions, compared to before when he was just providing alternative (and supportive) views. The news conference is actually amazing because in Chinese they both become EXCESSIVELY polite to demonstrate this new distance between them after Chapter 13.

CRIES WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT XU MO AND ARES. So, Xu Mo also has a quirk that's very apparent in his ASMRs where he repeats himself because he flusters the MC so bad she's always like "Huh!?".

But as Ares he literally has a line where he coolly says that he doesn't like to repeat himself and that he won't repeat himself...

Switching gears, Xu Mo also shares a habit with Li Zeyan where they give nonverbal responses. In Xu Mo's case, he goes "Mm?" "Hm?" or "Oh?" and tends to raise the end of his sentences to soften them. Li Zeyan just grunts acknowledgements LOL but it's the hottest noise in Chinese.

Lastly, Xu Mo really, really loves nicknaming the MC and has called her kitten, sea otter, this lady, night owl, etc. It's adorable! (I'm not mentioning his use of little fool or silly girl because I'm going to go more into that in Li Zeyan's section.)

LI ZEYAN

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. One of his speech quirks is calling MC a dummy, idiot, or moron LOL.

But there's an extremely interesting cultural difference here that people might not be aware of. In Chinese, the word he uses for "idiot" and "dummy" (笨蛋; bendan) is actually light and almost negligent. If I were to give an analogy, it's more like he's calling you "silly" all the time.

Obviously, the fact that you're being called something still hasn't disappeared. But the word Li Zeyan uses lands as a 0.1/10 on the insult scale in Chinese.

I don't have enough background in sociology to explain why this is but there's an interesting talk about the vagueness of Japanese insults vs. English ones that basically applies here to Chinese too:

One likely reason for the relatively few Japanese words for 'fool' is vagueness. In both English and Japanese, the words for 'fool' have meanings that vary along scales of friendly–hostile, or joking–serious. In English, at one end of a scale are words like silly goose and at the other end are words like stupid asshole. And in Japanese, at one end are words like kamaboko baka 蒲鉾馬鹿 'silly chump' and at the other end are words like baka-yarō 馬鹿野郎 'damn fool'. The difference is in the degree of lexical diversification along the scales of meaning. English seems to have more 'fool' words with more specificity – Japanese seems to have fewer 'fool' words with more vagueness. There are decided pragmatic and communicative advantages to such lexical vagueness. If you call me a stupid son-of-a-bitch, I know exactly what you mean. But if you call me a baka-yarō, I cannot be so sure of what you mean. The expression baka-yarō 馬鹿野郎 is one of the most insulting terms in the Japanese lexicon, but it is vague and can range in meaning from an affectionate 'silly-willy' to an abusive 'jerk-off fool'. Baka-yarō is so widely used that it has become semantically weak and vague. Such vagueness can serve to conceal hostility and thus to maintain social harmony.

Carr, Michael (1982). "Baka and Fool". The Review of Liberal Arts. 63: 1–18. Retrieved 2013-04-19.

On this note about insults, all the other guys have their own terms for the MC as well. For example, Xu Mo and Bai Qi use 傻瓜 (shagua; fool, silly melon) with Xu Mo often adding more affection with the diminuitive 小 (xiao; small, little).

I've seen Luoluo take some heat for also calling the MC "stupid" like Li Zeyan but did you know in Chinese he only uses 笨 (ben; dumb) which is even more lighter than Li Zeyan's word? It's like a 0.01/10 on the scale.

Putting this cultural difference of insults aside, I've mentioned above that Li Zeyan is also a fixer of problems like Bai Qi. Except he goes straight for it without checking with the MC (overbearing CEO style). He decides on an action, carries it out, and then tells MC after the fact.

[Marauder SSR Change Hotel Call] He switches her hotel immediately and gets her to move only after he's done it during their call.

[Chapter 11] Pretty much the entirety of this chapter and how he had her treated at the hospital, escorts her to and from work, assigns bodyguards for MC, etc.

Basically, whenever Li Zeyan receives MC's problems, he'll make a dry comment about it first, but then end up solving it.

I also think that, out of the rest of the guys, he questions MC the most on everything (remember, Xu Mo isn't naturally confrontational until he goes cold or Ares-mode). Li Zeyan can't seem to stop himself from challenging MC's views and opinions every step of the way (in his mind, he's doing it for her own good).

On a side note, I think he also has the habit of being unable to say what he truly wants to say sometimes and you can hear him swallow back a lot of words or just sigh heavily. For example:

[Call after Main Story 11-19: Routine Greeting] Granted he was really emotional due to story reasons here. But there were so many pregnant pauses and heavy silence.

[Gentle Confrontation SSR Tacit Game Call] In Chinese, when MC opens with her question you can actually hear him go "Uh..." LOL. IT'S HILARIOUSLY CUTE. But the rest just has him sighing deeply.

I mentioned above that he and Bai Qi share a similar sense of humor in being deadpan, but Li Zeyan definitely takes it to another level. He also delivers a serving of dry wit or sarcasm. I think it's cute that he mimics the MC a lot though and their inside joke is him recalling everything she's called him.

[Main Story 11-16] Same speech pattern. "Are you Li Zeyan...?" "... Are you a moron?"

[Winter Infatuation SSR Before Sleep Call] "Even though on the way back you were clearly crying, 'Ah, so tired... ah, so sleepy...', the moment you get home you have the energy to turn on the computer?"

There's too many occasions where he quotes her words about him being an unsmiling K(ing), but whenever it happens some cute back and forth ribbing gets brought up. Like how it slipped out of her mouth, but he just so happened to recall it too and it's not like he remembers this stuff on purpose or keeps it in his mind. Uh huh.

Despite how exasperated he gets though, Li Zeyan never stops participating in all the silly games MC drags him into. Is this true love--- LOL.

Lastly, I want to bring up how Li Zeyan gives nonverbal responses much like Xu Mo except his are like grunts of acknowledgment. His favorite words is probably 嗯 (ng). The sound is more like "en" with a bit of a nasal noise and just means "mm". It can be used as a question too.

But hands down I think it's the hottest noise in Chinese LOL especially when Wu Lei (Li Zeyan's Chinese voice actor) does it in his deep voice. Erm, oops, getting distracted.

My main point here is to say that Li Zeyan leans towards being brief and monosyllabic, moreso than the other men. For example, in [Main Story 18-8] Li Zeyan uses the shortest words possible to reply to Xu Mo. At one point he literally just goes "Reason?".

I actually think he uses the most Chinese idioms to get across his meaning as short as possible (but this would be impossible to carry over in English...). Xu Mo tends to use 4 character combinations too but those are for scientific theories and don't count.

A Chinese player actually compiled the majority of idioms you hear from Li Zeyan LOL and here they are. By the way, these are supposed to be said as one whole phrase but I've added spaces to make the pronunciation clearer:

少见多怪 (shao jian duo guai); lit. seldom seen very strange. It means making a fuss or being excited over something normal.

上蹿下跳 (shang cuan xia tiao); lit. leap up jump down. It means jumping around excitedly and being hyperactive.

当众出丑 (dang zhong chu chou); lit. public fool. It means making a fool of yourself in public or making yourself a spectacle.

差强人意 (cha qiang ren yi); lit. lacking improvement to one's expectation. It means being barely passable or barely satisfactory.

不近人情 (bu jin ren qing); lit. not close to human emotions. It means being unreasonable or inhuman, and this one was actually Li Zeyan asking if MC sees him as this.

乱七八糟 (luan qi ba zao); I don't think you can make this literal but it basically means a complete mess.

自作多情 (zi zuo duo qing); lit. self-made many feelings. It means being full of yourself, like a narcissist, or flattering yourself by thinking people love you when they don't LOL.

漏洞百出 (lou dong bai chu); lit. full of leaks. It means you're full of loopholes, inconsistencies, and all your arguments are faulty.

莫名其妙 (mo ming qi miao); I'm not sure if this can become literal either but it means baffling, ridiculous, or incomprehensible.

想都别想 (xiang duo bie xiang); It literally means don't you even think about it LOL.

笨手笨脚 (ben shou ben jiao); lit. dumb hands dumb legs. It means being clumsy.

罪加一等 (zui jia yi deng); lit. adding a cardinal sin. It basically means becoming doubly guilty or you just keep piling up wrongs.

叽叽喳喳 (ji ji zha zha); lit. chirp chirp. But it basically means you're being a chatterbox, babbling, and jibberjabbering.

Of course we can't forget 笨蛋 (bendan; dummy, idiot) and 白痴 (baichi; moron) which are the insults Li Zeyan uses the majority of the time, the former more than the latter. These aren't idioms though.

[kaidans-alenko]

Wrote a thing for my very dear and extremely talented friend @confundere(who yall need to follow because she’s amazing and just all around a very sweet person <3)  with her oc Persephone and Aiden <3

Supposed to be for ockiss week but that didn’t happen pfftt 

“At least Lily is honest with me.” He fired back at Persephone, they had been going back and forth with each other all morning while Lily and Aiden ran around the strip, it was all harmless fun of course. 

“Oh just barely, you said the whole first year of your relationship you still couldn’t fully tell how she felt.” Persephone teased.

“Yeah well she’s more honest with me than you and Aiden are with each other.”

“It’s complicated, we were both on Mindoir during the raid.” was the only explanation she gave.

“Yeah?” he didn’t fully understand the relevance but he was willing to hear her out.

Persephone looked at the fireplace in the apartment’s living room.

“And if I'm to be honest, the biggest part of why I got engaged to Thomas was because he was one of my last connections to home. I don’t want to just be with Aiden for that same reason. It didn't exactly end well the first time.” She told him.

It wasn’t something she had really said out loud before but if there was anyone she felt like she could be honest with it was Kaidan.

“I get it but at the same time, is that really a bad thing?”

Persephone looked over at him “Huh?” 

“Look and don’t tell her I brought it up but Lily told me that I have some similarities with her late fiance and at first it kind of bothered me but I thought about it and realized it’s not really a bad thing.” 

“You don’t feel like a replacement at all?”

Kaidan shook his head “Lily loved him and I believe she still does a little bit and I could let it bother me sure but she loves me for the same reason she loved him and i’m not going to sit here and say I won out because i’m with her now, that’s not fair and I certainly don’t feel that way but what i’m trying to say is you two really care about each other. Lily and I both agree on that and if one of the things that brings you two together is a number of shared experiences or in my case shared traits, then what’s the problem? If it was the only reason you’re attracted to him, yeah it might be an issue but I don’t personally believe that is the only reason.” 

Persephone sighed, she focused so much on burying these feelings she never really took a step back to think about what she actually liked about him "I like that I can trust him. The one person who I was supposed to be able to trust outed me but Aiden just... understands. And there's that rush when you can charge into battle with someone you trust. Mindoir was a conservative colony. Biotics had to hide themselves. And there's a part of me that wishes we'd been closer back then because maybe then I wouldn't have felt so alone with it. It's more than that though. Past us being biotics, past us both being soldiers. I can be myself around him... it's been awhile since I felt like that about someone. I'm not scared, or guarded."

“Are you ever going to tell him that?” Kaidan asked.

“How long did it take you to tell Lily?”

“Hey, in my defense we didn’t have any obvious chemistry like you two do.” 

Persephone shook her head, she didn’t believe him or rather she didn’t want to believe him “He’s got a war to win, it’s not the time maybe if we survive, we’ll see.”

--------------

"So," Lily started as she stole a piece of nigiri off of Aiden's plate "how are you and Persephone?" She pried, causing his face to turn the same shade as the tuna on his plate. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said defensively, tugging at his scarf, suddenly feeling hot at the mention of her name.

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, mouth still full of sushi "You're the talk of the ship, I even started a betting poll." She told him as she swallowed.

"You what?!" Lily watched unfazed, sipping her all too sweet cocktail as he hopped out of his chair, a couple of guests glaring in their direction over the commotion Aiden was causing.

"I was bored and I figured 

 should be getting something out of this back and forth you two have going on." She shrugged, clearly not seeing a problem in what she just told him. 

Aiden ran a hand down his face as he fell back into his chair "What...exactly is written on the poll?"

"Oh nothing." She said, looking away from him.

"Lily, what does the poll say?"

Lily sighed, setting her glass down "what will happen first: the reapers wiping out the galaxy or Aiden and Persephone getting together?"

Aiden looked at her, eyes wide, he never got mad at his sister and he couldn't say he was now, it wasn't surprising behavior from her, he was simply mortified. Did Persephone know? God he hoped not.

"It's all harmless fun Ai." She said with a wave of her hand.

"Fine, but are you betting against me or for me?"

"Aiden! I'm appalled! Of course I'm betting for you, you're my brother."

 "What kind of money is on it anyway?" 

"Just a few thousand credits." She said nonchalantly.

"Thousand?!" Is the whole crew in on it?!" 

Lily thought about it as she shoved a sushi roll in her mouth "No...like about….eighty percent?"

"Eighty?!"

She shrugged "More or less, Aiden if I were any good at math I wouldn't be a marine okay?"

Aiden sighed, resting his head on the table, he wondered what Persephone thought of all this, if she even knew about it, he imagined Kaidan did but he wasn’t a gossip so he wasn’t concerned about her finding out from him “You’re the absolute worst.” he sighed.

----------------------

Lily sat on the counter in the mess hall kitchen, watching them like a hawk as Aiden and Persephone conversed over breakfast, she hadn’t the faintest clue to what they could be talking about but Persephone had been laughing quite a bit, it had to be her way of flirting, there was no way her brother was that funny and Lily of all people would know. “Hey babe.” She said, sipping her hot cocoa as she waited for Kaidan to finish making breakfast.

Kaidan looked over his shoulder “Yeah?” 

“I think i’m gonna add more money to the poll.” she told him, eyes still fixated on the pair.

Kaidan rolled his eyes “I still think it’s an invasion of privacy.” 

“Hush, and besides there was one for us on the SR-1.”

“You’re joking.” at least he hoped so.

Lily shook her head “Swear on my life, where do you think I got the idea?”

He sighed as he went back to cooking “Do they even know about it?” 

Lily plucked one of the marshmallows out of her mug and very elegantly placed it in her mouth “It’s a small ship.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.” 

“Well whatever,” Kaidan placed the contents of the pan onto a plate and handed it to her “here.” 

Lily smiled, “Perks of dating a canadian, they make the best bacon.”

“That’s a stereotype.” he said as he turned off the stove.

“Sure, like you putting canadian bacon on your pizza is a stereotype.” she said as she put whatever passed for syrup up in space on her bacon, Kaidan shuddering as he watched in disgust. 

“First of all it’s just ham, second of all that’s disgusting.”

“Why because it’s not maple syrup?” she gave him a playful wink as she sucked a stray drop off her finger.

Kaidan scoffed “No.” 

“Snob.” Lily teased as she exited the small kitchen, Kaidan following behind her. 

They sat at the other end of the table “Not sitting with your brother today?” Kaidan asked, a little surprised they only did that when they fought and they hardly ever fought.

Lily shook her head “Nope! I’m gonna let whatever that is play out.” she said smugly, as if them talking was her doing. Kaidan still didn’t think it was any of their business but when did Lily ever listen to him? “I know it might seem like meddling but I really just want them to be happy and it seems to me that they make each other happy, he’s had a crush on her since we were kids after all.” she watched them talk with a gentle smile on her face, there was one thing people forgot about her, something hidden behind her imp like behavior and it was that she actually had a good heart. She wasn’t callous just for the sake of it, if she cared about someone she wanted what was best for them and it may seem like meddling to people on the outside but she did care about Aiden and Persephone and wanted them both to be happy and if that happiness lay with each other then she wanted to help even if it was from the sidelines.

Lily smiled and she had just the idea “Kaidan, how hard would it be to overload one of the elevators in here?” 

“Edi might have some firewalls that prevent hacking but overloading it shouldn’t be-” he paused, she was up to something “why?”

“Oh...no reason.” If they wouldn’t deal with this on their own then she’d force their hand “just call it tough sibling love.”

---------------

Persephone arched her back, bringing her arm up as far as she could, her finger tips only barely brushing against the zipper to her under armor as she tried to pull it down but to no avail “Ugh!” she groaned looking around for someone to help when her eyes landed on Aiden who had the top part of his hanging around his waist as he worked on taking off his greaves. Don’t stare Persephone. Don’t. She repeated in her head but it was impossible, it was a wonder he didn’t already have someone waiting for him, she had heard from Lily he was with Liara briefly but not anymore. For someone as handsome and just down right charming as he was, she couldn’t believe it. 

Persephone cleared her throat “Aiden, could I get your help?” she asked as composed as she possibly could. 

Aiden looked up, his eyes peeking through the long black hair that had fallen out of his bun and into his face “Yeah?” did he even know how cute he was? Was it on purpose? He was driving her insane. 

“I can’t unzip my under armor, could you help me?” She tried not to make her voice sound like those girls in the extranet fetish vids joker kept on his hard drive but she was essentially asking him to undress her, it was gonna sound like that no matter what tone she used. Good thing she never was one for batting her eyelashes or this interaction would have a totally different connotation. 

Aiden felt his face flush, Persephone wanted him to….what? In reality it was just pulling her zipper down enough to where she could reach it herself but even still “Uh yeah, yeah of course.” 

Luckily she had to face away from him anyway because it was getting hard to keep her composure the closer he got to her “Just midway should be fine.” she told him, voice as cool as a cucumber.

“Gotcha” There was nothing sensual about this, just one soldier helping another with their zipper, nothing more nothing less. Aiden swallowed hard as he slowly pulled the zipper down her back, trying not to stare as he revealed more of that perfectly tan skin of hers. 

Persephone couldn’t breath, her mind was going a mile a minute thinking of all the possible scenarios where the context of him undressing her would be much different and she needed to stop. To think of anything other than what his hands would feel like on her skin, the scent of the cologne he wore that had long worn off by now and what his stubble would feel like on her- “Okay, there you go.” he said snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“Oh...uh right, thank you.” Persephone reached her hand back, finally able to reach the zipper and part of her wanted to undress in front of him but it was still fraternization and in the middle of a war who was really paying attention, Lily and Kaidan being a prime example of that and at this point it was just a convenient excuse for her to use to deny what she actually wanted. 

Aiden turned and walked away to finish taking off his own armor, doing his best not to look at Persephone as he did.

“Ya know Persephone you should really invest in a catsuit like me.” Lily suggested, half teasing. 

“A catsuit?”

Lily nodded “Yup, zipper in the front so when you’re done you can just slide it right off no problem and it's also pretty comfy.” 

“Those offer no damage protection and not only that, the alliance doesn’t allow them for obvious reasons.” Aiden interjected as he tried not to imagine her in a catsuit.

“Yeah well the handbook says we can wear what we want if N7 is written somewhere on it and,” Lily pointed at her “she’s part of the club like us so technically if she wanted to she could.” 

Persephone giggled “I’ll take it into consideration Lily, thank you.” 

“See Aiden, I was only trying to help my friend.” She said with a smirk.

Aiden rolled his eyes ‘Sure.” she couldn’t fool him but he really hoped Persephone didn’t take her advice, he wasn’t sure he’d survive seeing her in a catsuit even if for one mission. 

The four of them walked to the elevator, Lily grabbing Kaidan’s wrist and pulling him back as she overloaded the elevator, the doors closing and locking Aiden and Persephone in together. “Did you just do what I think you did?” Kaidan asked.

“Yup and they aren’t leaving until they’ve kissed at least.” She stated matter of fact as she sat on the unoccupied weapons bench.

Kaidan sighed, in reality he could’ve just as easily gotten them out of there but he knew if he did Lily wouldn’t be too happy with him and the cons of that out weighed the pros unfortunately.

“Did she just?” Persephone asked, baffled.

“Yup.” Aiden nodded.

“Why?” she asked again. 

“Who knows.” He sure as hell couldn’t read his sister’s mind no matter how hard he tried and he has tried. 

Brown eyes met ocean blue and god it was such a cliche but he could’ve drowned in them, not just her eyes either, everything about her was beautiful, he thought he had gotten over his crush but the more he was around her the more these feelings he harbored for her so long ago came back but even stronger now. It was stupid to hope for anything, there was a war and she had ended her egagement not too long ago and he didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for her if he said anything and he cetianlly wasn’t about to set himself up just to be rejected. 

 “Commander, I have something I want to say to you.” it was stupid to call him by his rank just to tell him about her feelings for him but she was nervous and her brain automatically defaulted back to work.

Aiden went fully into commander mode “Of course, now’s as good a time as any.” 

“Listen Aiden, I like you.”

Aiden blinked at her, his brain short circuiting as he processed what she just said “I like you too Persephone, you’re a valuable crew member and friend.” that had to be what she meant right?

She sighed “Aiden what I mean is, I like you, like really like you.” 

Aiden was in full panic mode, did she mean…? No, No of course not! Couldn’t be “As a friend?” 

“No Aiden,” god he was dense, beautiful, but so very dense “I mean I have feelings for you.” she bluntly told him “romantic feelings.” 

“O-oh…” He said, his voice cracking “that’s uh...that’s great…” 

“Great?” She raised an eyebrow at him, she thought he felt the same, had she been wrong?

“Yeah, I mean...yeah!” Aiden had never been a smooth talker, he got flustered way too easily and some people found it endearing other’s not so much. Hopefully Persephone wasn’t the latter.

 “Do you not like me?”

“No I do!” He exclaimed, shocking them both “I uh...I always have.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You and Thomas were so close and you’re gorgeous and as you can see i’m incredibly awkward with these things and I didn’t think I even had a chance so….” 

This time it was her turn to be surprised “You’ve had feelings for me since we were kids?”

Aiden nodded “Yeah, I thought they went away and when I saw you again and got to spend more time with you they all came back, I don’t know if it’s because we’re both survivors of the raid or because you’re a vanguard like me but they’re different from the boyish crush I had on you years ago.” he confessed. 

Persephone couldn’t help herself, after hearing how he truly felt, that after all these years he still had feelings for her, it was almost a miracle, she didn’t believe in soul mates but what were the odds that after all these years they’d find each other again and that he’d still have feelings for her. Persephone pushed Aiden back against the wall of the elevator, kissing him, he was taller than her but her heels made kissing him a much easier feat as opposed to if she was Lily’s height. 

Aiden’s eyes widened in surprise, every muscle tensed at the feelings of her lips on his, he could hardly believe this was happening, guess he had to thank his sister later. He wrapped one arm around her waist and tangled a hand in her blonde hair as they kissed, both intoxicated by each other as soon as the elevator was working they were going straight to the captain's cabin there was no denying that, it was just a question of who hit the button first.

Suddenly the elevator started moving again, pulling them apart, a message from Lily pinging his omni-tool.

“You’re welcome ;)”

Was all it said and he rolled his eyes “That brat…” he said under his breath, he couldn’t be too mad considering how it turned out but that wasn’t the point. 

Suddenly the elevator stopped and Persephone was dragging him into the cabin “Think you still have some energy after that mission soldier?” she winked.

Aiden smirked, picking her up, making her giggle as he carried her the rest of the way “Aye aye ma’am.” 

[billie-ford]

1

Days Gone By

6

Houston. The biggest city in the state of Texas and the second largest in the country. But more intimately, it was the home of Billie Ford. She was known well throughout the countryside of Houston and even into the inner city as the kid that went the extra mile. A star runner on the high school track team, destined to make state. The friendly mechanic that willingly made house trips and sometimes took a hot meal as payment. The devoted wife and mother, the lively younger sister known for her exuberant energy. The street she lived on for more than half a decade was once known for it’s exuberant energy too; music bumping from almost every open window and a potluck every other week. It was now a decrepit wasteland. One of the first cities to fall when the virus broke and when it fell, it fell hard.

Every inch of public road was cluttered with debris, abandoned cars, streaks of blood and dead bodies - roaming or not. Music would not be heard on these streets ever again - unless you chose to count the mindless humming from Billie every now and again. Despite how sparse supplies had grown, Billie couldn’t bring herself to leave. Having already abandoned her once warm, loving home, she was now holed up in a strangers house on the other side of the city. Boarded up, furniture pushed against windows and a makeshift bed of sheets and couch cushions positioned messily in the center of the living room. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to call it quits, no matter how ghostly it had gotten in the last few months. Something was keeping her here, and she just couldn’t describe what it was.

(six months since the fall)

“How long will you be?” 

Despite his name, Hunter Hammond was no scavenger. He was a meek man, all five-foot-nine of him. Abraham used to tease him when their families got together for a dinner, joking that Billie had managed to fuse her bisexuality and marry both a man and woman all in one. Hunter never liked Abraham too much.

“I’ll be as quick as I can but who knows what those streets look like now.” Billie tightened the laces of her boots before standing and slinging a backpack over her shoulder. Just behind Hunter, their son Devin played with plastic cars in their couch cushion bed. His smile and bubbly laugh was a constant reminder of what the world had been once, and for both Billie and Hunter it gave them hope.

Billie cupped her husband’s cheek, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “Back before sundown. I promise. C’mere sweet boy,” she kneeled down and kissed her toddler on the head, breathing in the scent of his cloud-like curls. “You take care of your ol’ man for me, m’kay?” The boy smiled and nodded.

“Board this right back up.” She gave Hunter a stern look as she moved the furniture from the back door, their backyard a quiet enough escape to the road behind them. “I mean it. The second I’m out.”

“Don’t worry, I got you. Come back to me safe, Bill. I mean that.”

Hunter had shut the door before she could give him a second look, the sound of the couch scraping on the other side signaling she was now trapped on the back porch. She took off down the patio stairs, through the neighboring backyards and through the small line of trees that shielded the house from from the main road.

Billie liked to call them walkers. They reminded her of how her dad used to walk when he had knee surgery and ended up with a walking frame for a few weeks; hunched over, slow, lazy. Her father was an intimidating man - strong and stern, a frequent yeller who, just by cracking the buckle of his belt, had Billie stood straight and ready to accomplish any command. But even Abraham Sr. didn’t scare her as much as those things did. Her father could be reasoned with if you showed him enough respect; they could not. The howls of sorrow trapped inside distant memory disturbed her more than when they ran her way, jaws chomping and drooling for a taste of human flesh. Something she had only seen in her brother’s horror movies, and even those couldn’t prepare her for the sights she had seen. It was the humanity lost somewhere within them - that’s what terrified her. She remembered the first time she caught wind of the pandemic beginning to break across the globe; her ear just barely picking up the sound of the radio over power drills and welders.

She hadn’t been able to find Abraham since things really went to shit.

The military did what they could when things started to get out of control, but even they had families to protect and sticking around to maintain order just seemed foolish. Multiple trips were made to the Ford residence with no luck; Cupboards were barren, clothes strewn about and that picture he had on the mantle of the two of them one Christmas was busted out of its frame. Despite her excuses - he didn’t have time to come for me. they were in trouble. he did come by but I was already gone. he’s still around, we just keep missing each other. - she couldn’t kill the eating thought that he just left her. His baby sister, abandoned. He broke his promise. Subconsciously, that was the biggest reason she kept one foot in Houston - he was still coming back for her. But with every day that passed with no sign of life, the hope that he was still close - and breathing - faded further and further away...

7

The camp was far beyond the rest of civilization. And good for it. The tops of buildings looked like shoe boxes interwoven with visibly abandoned streets in the far distance, gray in comparison to what it once used to be. This flat plot of land had barely been touched by human hands when it was found; turned up dirt and rock accompanied by machinery and port-a-potties. A construction sight soon to be turned into a number of vacation homes, that much they gathered from the weathered sign stuck in the ground at the base of the hill.

Breakfast ended an hour ago; watery eggs with sparse salt and bitter potatoes. Everyone was busy now, in the full swing of their day; taking buckets of dishes to the river to be washed while another group returned with wet laundry to hang dry.

“You should let these grow so I can push them to the side. You don’t really want all this hair in your eyes do ya, hun?”

Jane Ford, forty-two, a high school swim coach in what now seemed to be another life now sat in her husband’s tattered flannel and blue jeans tucked into yellow hospital socks. With her eldest between her knees, she snipped away at the atrocious bob the child had given herself a year prior. Her bangs stuck out every which way and no amount of water, time, or prayer would set the needle straight hairs into place. Jane huffed in defeat and dropped the comb and fabric scissors into a cup at her foot.

“I like it like this, momma.” The ten year old stated while playing with the torn ear of her stuffed bunny, given to Jane as a baby shower gift from her aunt. The dirty old thing brought her comfort more now than ever, a reminder of her favorite - well, her only - aunt.

‘You hug this little guy every single night. And wherever I am I’ll be sure to feel it.’

“Leave her hair alone, darlin’. If she likes it than she likes it.” Abraham watched his girls while sipping a black coffee, occasionally looking out into the horizon to scan for survivors or otherwise. “We Fords have the tendency to look good in whatever hairstyle we’re rockin’.” He winked at his daughter who grinned.

“Tell that to your tenth grade mullet.” “You still had a crush on me didn’t ya sweetheart?” “Oh, stick it!” “Last time I did we ended up with the twins..” “Ew, dad!”

He howled with laughter and beckoned his child to come towards him. She jumped up into his lap and he tussled her wet hair, the act earning him a curse from his wife. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and took that moment to thank God. His family, all five of them, were together and secure. But every thankful thought was followed by the sudden sorrow he felt for his first family; his baby sister. Big Bad Bill. 

He was a military sergeant and when he was called to duty the only thing on his mind was getting this issue under control. He only evacuated the quarantine camps when he had absolutely no choice and by the time he reached his home in the suburbs it was too late to go the inner city. She was just too far away from him. He couldn’t count on all fingers and toes how many times he’d been down in that area since then, practically swatting her home the second he could. Empty. She had taken the photo of them from his high school graduation on her fireplace.

Despite the “no man left behind” attitude instilled in him during boot camp, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that his sister was still alive. She was tough, but she wasn’t survive-life-or-death-situations-tough. She was just a mechanic.

A familiar shrill voice followed by marching steps in the gravel snapped him out of his pity party. With a groan, he shooed his daughter away to play with the other kids before standing to meet the five-foot-two hurricane that was Marizol Espinosa. “Dios mio Abraham! My Rosita should have been home days ago!” The group he had sent out nearly three days ago had yet to return and despite the majorities silence, everyone was a little worried about their return. Marizol was not one of the silent ones.

“Te quiero fuera. Out there. Searching for them.” A manicured hand rested on a jutted hip, the other pointing a bullet like index into the ginger brutes face. Jane’s eyes flickered between the two cautiously as she busied herself with cleaning chunks of dark hair from her lap.

“Mary, I wouldn’t have sent the group that I sent if I didn’t think they could handle their hides. Give em the day darlin’, I’ll radio in from time to time and if nothin’ still I’ll send a crew after em.”

“Oh dios- get more people lost! Or killed! You listen to me jengibre...” As she opened her mouth to grill him with undoubtedly ruthless insults, the radio on his belt crackled with life. A female voice just barely came through. Abraham gave Marizol a smug grin.

8

“I’ve always loved you, and made you happy...and nothing else could come between...but now you’ve left me, to love another...you have shattered..all..of my dreams..” Breathless, Billie trudged along the side of the road as the afternoon heat caused beads of sweat to rolled down her jaw. With daylight running low she was worried this would be another unsuccessful supply run, having already searching multiple stores and homes throughout town. “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine..you make me happy when skies are gray..you’ll never know dear- fuckin’ hell it’s hot.”

She came to a stop outside of a gas station. A run down shack of a business that she had been to multiple times for a cigarette and a beer during her commute back home after work. But with its busted out windows and disregarded hoses it looked to be a completely foreign shop.

In and out quickly was the plan, and smooth enough it went. She packed what she could; in her months of scavenging she learned quickly that if you looked for things where those things weren’t meant to be, you could find what you needed. With a bowie knife in one hand and a half melted snickers from the cash register in the other she wandered the aisles freely, skimming underneath shelves for stray cans and water bottles. As she was preparing to leave, check today off as a successful enough day, one too many walkers began crowding the door from which she came, falling through busted windows and disemboweling themselves on shards of glass. She took down what she could with her bowie, hoping to clear a way to the road but for every one she killed two more crowded in its place. “Fuck.”

Searching hastily with a newfound feeling of vertigo, she spotted the employee exit behind the counter. A pipe had been lodged into the handle and bent outwards, trapping it shut. She cleared the counter, shivering at the feeling of rotting hands skimming the back of her arms before forcing the pipe out of place and slamming the door shut behind her. Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she searched her bag for a flashlight, her knife wielding hand still raised defensively.

“Grab them!”

Billie felt the sharp pain of a shoulder in her spine as she was tackled to the ground, her cheek crashing into the cold pavement and the wind escaping her lungs as her knife slid feet away from her grasp. She was frisked for her weapons, her bag tore violently from her shoulder as a knee remained snug between her shoulder blades.

“You one of the bitches that jumped us?” “Huh!? No!”

The cool metal of a gun barrel met her temple and she stuttered, “I ain’t here to hurt no one! I’m just stuck! On the bible, man!”

“What do you mean stuck?”

“There’s an ocean of them dead fools out that door behind me- gotta be packed to capacity by now. Man can you get off my back you’re hurting me!”

She was hoisted to her feet as a lamp clicked on. The room lit up in a small yellow glow, revealing a number of people surrounding her. To her left, brunette hair was pulled back under a military cap and tan hands secured in fingerless gloves held a glock steady to her head. Latina. Her glare was strong, eyebrows knitted as she trained her sights on Billie.

“There was a group in here yesterday. They locked us in.” In front of her, a young asian boy sat on a railing. They were in a garage. “Think you can help us out of here?” The man previously kneeling on her spine asked. He was the stockiest of the group; dark skinned, a gap tooth, and a flat cap concealing a bald head. 

She didn’t have much of a choice. Either they all got out or none of them got out. “I can try once your friend gets that barrel off my cheek.” She huffed. A delivery truck sat begging to be used in the middle of the garage. A full tank but no keys, they say. Luckily for them, Billie didn’t need keys. She looked towards the latina, and only after the asian boys pleas did she lower her weapon.

After she jimmied the lock for a while, Billie got the door open and jumped into the driver seat, the latina following her every move as she popped off the connector to the ignition. She looked down to the only other woman and quirked a smile, “you wouldn’t happen to have a bobby pin would ya, hun?” Deadpanned, she dug into her hair and retrieved two bobby pins, slapping them into Billie’s hand who muttered a thank you. In seconds she had the pins poked into each hole of the connector and the truck growled with life. First the lights, brightening the room even more but she refrained from turning the engine, alas, suffocating them all with toxic fumes. Billie turned to the woman below, already used to the bitter gaze she sent her way. “You get the door open and you’re home free.”

“You should come with us.” Once stepping out of the truck she was greeted by the man that had tackled her to the ground, now smiling at her apologetically while extending a hand to shake, “call me T-Dog.” The latina huffed in protest. “She’s useful, Rosita.” Rosita.

“I would love to but uh..I got people waiting on me.” “They can come too.” “There’s no way you’re getting this truck up that road.” “We’ll wait.” “We can’t wait for some stranger, we’ve got people worried about us.”

“I could go with you!” It was the asian boy again, short black hair now covered with a baseball cap. He approached Billie with a smile that rivaled T-Dog’s. These weren’t people that Billie would coin as survivors - all but Rosita maybe - but here they were anyways. “I know my way around the city. We can pick up whoever you’re with and head back to camp.”

“So there’s more of y’all..?” “Loads.”

Rosita shook her head again. “No, no. That’s too many more mouths to feed and we’re already low on supplies.”

“Actually, Rosita, I don’t think supplies will be an issue...”

A voice echoed from within the newly unlocked truck, the sliding door disconnecting the storage space from the front seat now wide open. They followed the sounds of his footsteps to the back door where it was then unlocked from inside, flew open with a loud clang, and revealed stacks upon stacks of unopened cans, bags of chips, and soda. The man - the eldest of the group - smiled down at them, particularly Billie. “That solves that problem young lady.”

“Look at that,” the asian quipped, “we’ve got food for a few more mouths, someone who knows their way around a sticky situation, and you got us to watch your back. Sounds like wins all around to me!”

Everyone seemed to be in agreement of letting this squirrely stranger and her mystery companions join the group, all but Rosita, who had Billie wondering if she had cut her off in traffic one time.

“She helped us when we needed it, Ro,” he reasoned, “she didn’t have to.” He seemed keen on having Billie join them but she just shrugged; made no difference to her. Even the older man, who looked to have been on a fishing trip before they got locked in here, threw in his two cents. “Always room for a survivor.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Rosita squared up to Billie with folded arms. “You get that door open and you get to come back with us. Bring your boyfriend or whatever. Bien?”

“Gracias, a-mee-go.”

If you looked for things where those things weren’t meant to be, you could find what you needed. - Billie’s Law. 

Billie knew garages like the back of her hand, and she knew of the spare clicker that came with every garage system. It was a shot in the dark, hoping the door would even work if she found it, but she searched high and low despite it. Even despite Rosita’s smug bark of ‘we looked for it already’. Like a dog on a scent she overturned garbage cans and tools boxes all while she watched impassively. No clicker. But underneath a uniform coat, beneath a stack of scrap metal, was a car jack, and Billie knew more than a few ways to use one of those.

With a loud bang and a rustic whine, Billie managed to jam the jack underneath the door enough to bend it and gave the handle a few pumps to lift it all while T-Dog and Rosita readied themselves to bash the skulls of any unwanted stragglers. She managed enough space to roll under and the asian boy quickly followed, keeping an eye out for her while she finished the job. Eyes stinging with sweat, Billie picked away at the lock while disembodied moans approached her, silenced by the lead pipe her new comrade armed himself with. The door was finally freed in minutes; they were free and she had a new home for her baby boy.

“Looks like you’re ours now.” The boy smiled again. “Glenn.”

She shook his hand, her grip firmer than his. “Billie.”

[miceenscene]

N7 Month - Day 14

Name

Everything hurt, that was the first thing Shepard registered. Everything really really really hurt. She could only recall being in this much pain once before, and it took eight billion credits, two years, and a deal with the devil to come back from that one. Her every nerve ending was burning, searing. Blood roared in her ears. Stop stop STOP, make it stop!

And then it did.

The abrupt return to something like normality was so jarring Shepard’s eyes shot open and she sucked in a breath, coughing and hacking at she sat up. For a few minutes she let the world spin around her, eyes shut again as she focused on her breathing. In and out, steady, centered. Then she opened her eyes to survey her surroundings.

She was in a building, or a space station perhaps, or maybe even a ship. The room was so nondescript it was difficult to tell. Just a large room with crates and boxes scattered around in a haphazard pattern. The much more concerning revelation was herself. She’d glanced down at her hands and did a double take, holding them up to stare at them in something like horror.

Before the waking up here and the hurt, half her armor had been melted away by a direct hit from Harbinger. She’d been bleeding out up on the Citadel turned Crucible, Anderson at her side with the best seats in the house. Now her suit was spotless, gleaming and ready for action. She pressed to where she’d had a wound on her stomach, but there was no pain now. She staggered up to her feet, the sheer lack of agony making her unsteady for a few moments.

Had she died? Was the afterlife just some room that looked like a thousand others she’d once ran missions through? Garrus was going to be disappointed about the lack of a bar, she thought automatically before grimacing. Forgive the insubordination… No, no she wasn’t dead. She had orders, she had a retirement to enjoy, some utterly impossible children to raise. She wouldn’t have let herself die and that’s all there was to it. Clinging to that thread of stubborn determination, she finished her self-census. She had all her usual weapons and her omnitool even seemed to work.

“Shepard to Normandy. Come in, Normandy,” she said, opening her comm channels. There wasn’t a response. “Joker, this is Shepard. Come in, Normandy. Alliance, Hackett, anybody.” More silence. “Dammit,” she muttered, shutting the omnitool.  

Maybe if she got outside, or found a control room she could get better signal. She pulled out her trusted assault rifle and headed for the only door she saw. Listening for a moment, all she heard was the quiet air circulator cycle on. So she hacked the door open and stepped out into the hall, checking both ways for any sign of movement. Seeing none, she picked a direction and walked silently down the hall.

Stopping at the corner, she listened again, very aware that she was without back up in an unknown environment. If she hadn’t been standing completely still and focused she would have missed it. But she heard very quiet footsteps and the slight creak of body armor. Someone was near.

She waited, listening, as the footsteps drew nearer. Before they got too close, she leaned out just enough to glimpse around the corner. The hall was short and ended in another corner. She didn’t have to wait long as a rifle barrel started appearing from around the corner and then a moment later a person stepped around as well.

Relief flooded her system, making her almost drop her rifle. “Garrus,” she sighed, tears welling in her eyes as she stepped around the corner and ran towards him. “Garrus, honey. Oh thank god.”

Garrus froze as soon as she appeared and stared at her with wide eyes. She didn’t wait, just immediately wrapped her arms around his torso in a hug that wasn’t nearly close enough thanks to their armor.

“God, I was so worried,” she blubbered and sniffled a little. The tension release of him being here, him being safe had overwhelmed her control for the moment. She looked up at him and cupped his scarred mandible with her hand. “How’s your leg? Where are we? I can’t reach the Normandy. What happened with the Crucible?”

He didn’t reply, just stared down at her. Obviously in shock--not surprising given how distraught he’d been last he saw her.

“I followed orders,” she added with a slight smile in a whispery voice. “Somewhere warm and tropical, right?” God, she wanted to kiss him. Right here, any possible danger be damned. “Maybe even a few of those turian-human--”

“Vakarian,” a new voice called from further up the hall.

Shepard turned and a smile broke out on her face. “Vega,” she said, stepping back from Garrus for the moment. That was fine, there’d be plenty of time for a proper reunion back in her cabin. Vega sauntered down the hall, shotgun in hand. “Knew the reapers couldn’t keep you down.”

She reached out to shake his hand, but Vega just gave her a strange look for a moment before looking at Garrus.

“You want to introduce me to your friend?” he asked him.

“She’s not my friend,” Garrus replied in a frosty tone. Shepard’s head snapped over to look at him. What? Were they kidding right now?

“You two really think right now is the time for jokes?” she bit out, feeling deeply hurt that they would choose this moment to be idiots. Fine, if they wanted to be children then she would treat them like children. Garrus, she would have a talk with later. But Vega… “Lieutenant, status report,” she ordered, leaning into every bit of authority she possessed.

Instinctively, Vega snapped to attention for a breath. But then he seemed to realize what he’d done and brazenly relaxed. Oh, he was in for the dressing down of a lifetime.

Then all three of their comms crackled to life. “Lieutenant, status report,” a masculine voice ordered over her comm. Shepard frowned down at her omnitool--she didn’t recognize the voice at all.

Vega was still staring at her in bewilderment, but lifted his hand to activate his mic. “We found the source of that voice, Commander,” he replied. “Armed, but not… entirely hostile. Human. N7. Female.”

“On my way,” the voice replied.

Shepard looked between the two of them. “What the hell are you two playing at right now?” she demanded, patience worn completely through. Her hand curled instinctively around the handle of her rifle.

Garrus swiftly lifted his rifle and pointed it straight at her head. “Put the gun down, ma’am,” he warned in a low fierce tone. Her mouth dropped open in stinging betrayal for a heated second and then a thread of tension unspooled in her gut as something clicked together. She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know how she’d gotten here, but she knew one thing for dead certain--that wasn’t her Garrus.

“Hands where I can see them,” that same masculine voice ordered from behind her. There was no doubt in Shepard’s mind that she now had several guns pointing at her. So she complied, still maintaining eye contact with the Garrus as she was very aware of what his rifle was capable of. “Turn around.”

Slowly, she turned away from the pair she knew and faced the source of the voice. Standing at the end of the hall was an N7 marine. She’d never seen this man before in her life, she was certain. He would be difficult to forget from the imposing figure to the glowing red scars that cut deep into his face. Even his eyes were illuminated a dull red, she realized as he moved closer.

“Lieutenant,” the N7 ordered. Vega pulled the rifle from Shepard’s hands and the shotgun from her back. He quickly patted her down, finding the flash grenades in her belt, and then stepped back.

“Clean.” Vega moved to stand behind the N7, arms full of her weapons.

The N7 approached with measured steps, an assault rifle that was the exact same model as her own raised to her head.

“Name and rank, soldier,” he said, not relaxing from an assault posture. She didn’t know who that Garrus was, or if that was actually Vega, but this N7 was obviously Alliance. As annoying as it could be at times, sometimes the gravitas her name demanded was useful.

“Commander Shepard,” she answered, not hiding her annoyance.

Vega’s eyes went wide. She heard the Garrus behind her adjust his grip on his rifle. The N7 just stepped closer, finger on the trigger now. One wrong move and she might actually be meeting Garrus at that bar.

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time,” he growled. “Name And Rank.”

“Commander Jane Carren Shepard, Alliance Navy, Fifth Fleet, service number 5923-AC-2826,” she answered without the annoyance this time. “N7 class of eighty-one, first human Spectre, commanding officer of the SSV Normandy SR-2.”

“What the hell is going on?” Vega asked, half under his breath, eyes jumping between her to the N7 repeatedly.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that myself,” Jane replied, despite the multiple weapons pointed at her. She locked eyes with the N7. “Who are you?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, just stood up straighter. “Commander Shepard,” he bit out and then looked past her. “Vakarian, restrain her. She’s coming back to the ship. We can sort this mess out there.”

The Commander turned without waiting and headed back the way he came as the Garrus pulled Jane's hands behind her back and fastened a set of cuffs around her wrist. How she got here was still a mystery, she thought as she was led away, but there was a far better question right now. Would she be able to get home?

Ao3 Version

[This is actually the first chapter of a new untitled project I'm working on. It's gonna be a bit before it sees the light of day, but this chapter fit the prompt well enough I thought I'd give a bit of a teaser.]

[mst3kproject]

The Choppers

It’s teenage crime spree time!  With Arch Hall Sr. writing and producing, Arch Hall Jr. starring, and Bruno VeSoto supporting, the result is sure to be MST3K-worthy. All it’s missing is Ray Dennis Steckler, but I guess one can’t have everything.

America’s youth is its greatest resource, and those youth are in danger of growing up into criminals.  Witness our antagonists here: Cruiser, Torch, Ben, Flip, and Snooper. They drive around in a truck full of chickens, taking apart random cars and selling the pieces to Moose, a grouchy and unscrupulous junkyard owner.  The cops are baffled, but sooner or later the young thugs are bound to make a fatal mistake – and theirs comes when they girl they decide to sexually harass turns out to be the secretary of an insurance investigator.  At around the same time, Moose gets tired of their attitude and decides to turn them in.  Looks like the Choppers have chopped their last, uh… chop, I guess.

I’m sure you all want to know whether Arch Hall Jr. sings in this movie.  He does, but not until forty-five minutes in when I really had begun to hope I’d escaped him.  The piece is actually kind of catchy although not particularly memorable, but I may be in a forgiving mood because the first musical number in the movie was so much worse.  It’s performed by an elderly guy who works at Moose’s junkyard, and not only is he a bad singer, but what starts out sounding like a boy scout campfire ditty turns out to be a mournful country song about his divorce.  It made me long for the comparatively sweet strains of I Love You Vickie.

The photography here is notably terrible.  Almost the entire movie takes place outdoors in harsh desert sunshine because I think they didn’t actually have any lights.  Indoor scenes are kind of dim and night scenes are completely indecipherable – although I think somebody didn’t believe a practically pitch-black screen was enough to convince us it was night, because there are also lots of loud cricket noises.  There’s a bit where the Choppers vandalize a guy’s car because he took their parking spot and it’s almost impossible to see anyone’s faces or tell who’s talking.

The acting is sort of indifferently bad. Arch Hall Jr. is Arch Hall Jr., where everything he says sounds kind of stagey and dumb, and nobody else is much better.  The twenty-somethings playing the young criminals use hip slang in a way that suggests they have no idea what these words actually mean.  Arch Hall Sr. continues to believe he can build his son into a teen heartthrob, and so he shows us things like Cruiser’s pasty chest and belly as he lounges by a pool.

You say you didn’t need that screencap? Well, I didn’t need the shot it came from.

Most of the screen time in the movie is spent on the Choppers as they take apart cars, play or listen to bad music, argue with each other, and harass women.  The supposed heroes aren’t on screen nearly so much, but that’s okay because they are stunningly un-likeable.  There are a couple of bland cops, but the ones who are really our protagonists are inept insurance investigator Tom Hart and his nagging girlfriend Liz.  Tom comes across as an oblivious dope, while Liz constantly whines that she’s tired of fighting crime and wants to go home and eat.

Tom never redeems himself, but Liz gets a couple of moments.  She’s the one who notices that feathers keep turning up at the crime scenes, and when she recognizes Cruiser’s car at a drive-in she is able to keep him staring at her boobs long enough for her to memorize the license plate number. Naturally at the climax, she is not present and Tom, who did pretty much nothing all movie, gets all the credit for catching the gang.  The movie doesn’t make anything out of this because it doesn’t see anything wrong with it.

Which of course brings us to the fact that The Choppers hates women something fierce. There are only two we can actually be said to meet: Cruiser’s empty-headed girlfriend Gypsy (I know a bot who would be righteously angry at this name choice) is there to hang around in a bathing suit and be dumb.  The movie can’t decide how much she does or doesn’t know about his criminal hobbies – she seems to help vandalize the car in the parking lot, but then becomes the damsel in distress at the final shootout.  Liz nags, mocks, and generally treats Tom terribly, and at the end her competence is treated as his accomplishment.

Several of the five boys have backstories that depend on absent fathers – Cruiser’s was killed in WWII, Torch’s is an alcoholic, and Snooper has had a series of uninterested stepfathers.  The implication is that a single mother cannot possibly raise a boy.  He needs a father to turn him into a man (this is as near as stated aloud when a reporter attempts to interview Torch’s drunken father on the radio).  The only moment involving a woman that doesn’t reek of misogyny is when the boys harass a waitress and she blows them off.

If we’re gonna talk about fathers and sons… this is another movie Arch Hall Sr. made to try to build up his son’s career, and another movie in which the two of them are at odds.  They never actually meet in The Choppers, but the reporter played by Hall Sr. comments on how intelligent and talented the boys are and how much they could have accomplished if they’d only had the chance to live up to their potential.  Once again, it’s really, really tempting to try to do some psychoanalysis here, as if Arch Hall Sr. was using his films to tell the world how disappointed he was with his son.  I don’t know these people, of course, but that’s definitely the impression I get.

The main theme in The Choppers is one I’ve already dealt with, the idea that a boy without a father will become a criminal, stuck forever in the stage of life where rule-breaking is fun and consequences are things that happen to other people.  There seems to be a level on which the boys have adopted Moose as a sort of substitute father – he has encouraged and taught them in their criminal endeavours, and while he and they argue and threaten each other, they are honestly shocked by his eventual betrayal.  In the end, Moose abandons them just as their biological fathers have done.

There also seems to be some attempt to talk about class. All the Choppers seem to come from underprivileged backgrounds except for Cruiser, who has a backyard pool and a fancy car.  This puts him in the same category as Paula from The Violent Years, in that we’re given no good reason why he does this besides what his says to the reporter at the end: “we had a ball.”  Like Paula, Cruiser is the leader of the gang, but unlike her, he does not participate in the actual crimes.  Instead, Cruiser and his fancy car serve as lookouts – his upper-class origin allows him to be in charge without having to get his hands dirty, and there are signs that the rest of the boys resent this.  When they are all cornered at the end, it’s Cruiser who suggests giving up while Torch prefers to go down fighting.  Unlike the others, he’s not sufficiently invested in this to die for it.

What the movie is trying to say here is that money is not a substitute for good parenting, and privileged boys can still fall into crime if their fathers aren’t there for them.  What it manages to imply is that even in crime being rich gives you a head start and can make you a leader regardless of actual leadership qualities.

So this movie is really, really bad, and doesn’t deal very well with its thematic material – but that’s not to say there’s no entertainment value to be found here.  It’s never funny when it tries to be, of course. There’s an attempt at a running joke with Snooper wondering if he’d be more attractive to women if he wore contact lenses, which will make you shudder if you know what contact lenses were like in the 50’s and early 60’s.  The humour that works in The Choppers is naturally the unintentional kind, to be found in the bad acting and the unwieldy chicken truck.

My favourite moment is when Cruiser, talking on a candy-striped walkie-talkie the size of a dachshund, tells his cronies to give the police “the farmer routine”.  Flip and Snooper immediately pull a couple of cowboy hats out of fucking nowhere and put them on, and I almost did a real-life spit take.  This feels like the kind of thing that would have fascinated the Best Brains.  I can imagine Joel, Crow, and Tom whipping their own Stetsons out from under the theatre seats to wear for the rest of the scene (Servo would have needed help with his) and every subsequent appearance of a cop being greeted with, “quick, put on your cowboy hats!”  It would definitely be the stinger.

Talking about having a favourite Arch Hall Jr. movie is like talking about having a favourite kind of turd to eat, but insofar as the statement means anything, The Choppers is my second-favourite of his movies I’ve seen so far.  It’s less misogynistic than Eegah! (not a high bar) and doesn’t have nearly as much crappy music as Wild Guitar (accomplished by simply having less music).  My favourite Arch Hall Jr. movie is The Sadist, which I actually don’t consider bad enough for this blog.  In The Sadist Hall Jr. played a serial killer, and he was pretty terrifying.  If he’d had more roles like that (with directors who were not his father and could actually coach good performances out of him) he might have been a decent character actor.

[andimarquette]

Introduce yourself to the rest of the class.

I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia. For many years I wrote under my given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, for the gay/lesbian and alternative press in San Francisco, including the Sentinel, Plexus, and the San Francisco Bay Guardian. I also published poetry and short fiction in a number of literary journals, and articles in various magazines and newspapers.

A few years ago I tried writing erotica under the pseudonym Pascal Scott. My erotic short stories have appeared in several anthologies including Thunder of War, Lightning of Desire: Lesbian Historical Military Erotica; Through the Hourglass: Lesbian Historical Romance; Order Up: A Menu of Lesbian Romance and Erotica; Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink; Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 2 (2017); and Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 3 (2018).

Now I’m trying thrillers. Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller is the first in a series of novels coming from Sapphire Books Publishing.

Who are you and what makes you tick?

What makes me tick? Writing. I truly believe that the writing life is the best life imaginable, and I’m lucky to be able to live it and to share it with my lover, who is also a writer.

What does it mean to you to be an author?

An author is a writer who has been published. A writer is someone who has pages of written words lying around that may never get the blessing of a publisher. Being published is a privilege. I’m extremely fortunate to be a published author. There are lots of good writers who never get published.

What makes a writer a writer?

Writing is an obsession. Thomas Mann said a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. The compulsion to write, no matter how your day is going, is what makes a writer a writer. The novelist Don Winslow talks about how when he committed to writing five pages a day, he forced himself to keep that commitment no matter how his day unfolded, including the day he was chased and shot at by drug lords.

A writer is someone who understands that it takes more than desire to write well. As Christopher Hitchens said, “Everyone has a book in them, and in most cases that’s exactly where it should stay.” Everybody has a story to tell, but not everybody can tell a story. Writers need to learn their craft, to study grammar, to respect the beauty of the English language, to take classes, to get a job at a newspaper, to do all the things writers have always been advised to do. And read. If you’re not reading, you’re not a writer. Read everything that’s good. As Jewell Gomez said recently, if you’re reading only authors who look like you, you’re not reading widely enough.

Are you promoting a specific book? Tell us about it. Include the book blurb if you’d like.

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Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller.

Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

 Tell us about your biggest guilty pleasure. For example, to you sit naked in your pantry in the middle of the night and eat Nutella with your fingers?

Coffee. I joke about it, but I drink too much coffee. Seriously too much. But still, it’s coffee. I’m interested in watching where the American Psychiatric Association is going with their “Caffeine Use Disorder,” which came this close to be included in the DSM-5 (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, their bible). Now that they’ve depathologized sexual diversity and consensual kink, they’ve got to have somebody to pick on. Guess it’s going to be us coffee drinkers. I’m only half kidding here.

Tell us one thing that you’re passionate about. For example, would you strap yourself to an oil rigging a la Lucy Lawless with a Greenpeace sign in your hands?

Uh, no to the Greenpeace strapping. I’m passionate about my lover, the author Josette Murray. I’m passionate about writing, reading, words, books. That’s about it. Hemingway said he needed two things in his life to be happy: work to do and someone to love. That’s my formula, too.

What’s your writing process? That is, do you have a particular place you write and/or time of day? Do you have any particular things you do before you write? (e.g. do you listen to music, drink coffee, take dance breaks…)

I usually get up between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. and am at my desktop computer first thing, drinking coffee. I write until about noon, then break, and then take it up again in the late afternoon or early evening. This is my schedule now that I am retired, which is wonderful. When I was working fulltime, I wrote when I could—in the mornings before work or in the evenings when they were free, or on the weekends.

Tell us something that most people don’t know about you (unless you’d have to kill us, in which case tell us something that some people don’t know).

Like several of the characters I write about, I was a ward of the state of California and grew up in foster care. I know there are good foster parents out there, but there are too many bad ones, and too many bad group homes. The comedian Monroe Martin, who grew up in care, once joked that foster care is where they take you out of a situation in which you were neglected, molested, or abused and put you into that exact same situation. Too often that’s what happens when a kid goes into care. It did with me, which is part of why I became a writer.

Is there a book by another author that you wish you had written?

The Silent Wife by A.S.A. Harrison. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith.

If time and money were no problem, where would you most like to go in the world?

Europe. I’ve never been. Back in my twenties when so many people I knew seemed to be backpacking through Europe and staying in hostels, I was busy working a survival job, finishing my BA (which took me nine years to complete), and juggling parttime assignments as a freelance writer. If I had all the money in the world—I’m retired so time isn’t the problem now—I’d travel more and see Europe. And I’d do more Olivia Cruises. I got back recently from a Sapphire Literary Adventures at Sea cruise with Olivia to the Caribbean. If I had money, I’d live on a Holland American ship and cruise the world with Olivia.

And finally, what sorts of writing projects are next for you?

I just submitted the second book in the Hard series to my publisher, Sapphire Books. It’s called Hard Luck: An Elizabeth Taylor Bundy Thriller. It picks up where Hard Fall ends and follows the Elizabeth character. I’m currently working on Hard Line: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller. Hard Fall took place in 1989; Hard Luck in 1996. It’s 2008 in Hard Line, and this third book in the series brings the reader up-to-date to that year in the lives of Stone McStone and Zoe Martinelli. And, of course, in every Hard book somebody dies, and there are disturbing circumstances and unanswered questions about the death. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a thriller, would it?

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Pascal Scott is the pseudonym of the author of Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller from Sapphire Books. Writing under her given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, her poetry, short fiction, and newspaper and magazine articles have appeared in numerous publications. She has a BA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University and an MA in Liberal Studies from the University of North Carolina-Greensboro. After a long career in academia, she retired happily to Decatur, Georgia.

  www.sapphirebooks.com

Facebook/Priscilla Scott Rhoades

Twitter/pascalscottwrit

https://www.amazon.com/Hard-Fall-McStone-Martinelli-Thriller-ebook/dp/B07QFYNMC5/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_3?keywords=hard+fall%3A+a+mcstone&qid=1558213269&s=books&sr=1-3-fkmrnull

  Back Cover Blurb

  Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone.

Stone, the university’s graduate admissions officer, doesn’t believe it’s a suicide. The Emily she knew had too much going for her to take her own life. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Their investigation takes them into the private lives of San Francisco’s exotic dancers and into Emily’s dark past where they discover that some secrets can be deadly.

Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

Q & A with Pascal Scott

Introduce yourself to the rest of the class. I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia.

Q & A with Pascal Scott Introduce yourself to the rest of the class. I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia.

[likos064]

More Free-Thought Ramblings

Posting again, though no one’s listening

RAMBLING 8

The one person on The X-Files that Miles Robbins looks the most alike is Billy Miles. More than Krychek or any version of the Cigarette Smoking Man (Chris Owens or the new guy). 

It is amusing that the casting department of Twin Peaks didn’t care about parents and children looking alike, thus hiring the actor who played Scully’s father, Don S. Davis to play the father of Bobby Brigss, portrayed by Dana Ashbrook, who has dark hair and that kid looking more like Miles Robbins, however, that doesn’t mean that anyone resembles anyone. It is just a fun observation. Especially since they were more careful about making the Scully siblings look alike, and have a small resemblance to their father, but not mother. Why no one has dark haired when their mother has is a genetical mystery, recessive redhead line in her blood?

RAMBLING 9

I would argue that the child most fucked up by the Scully-Family dynamic is Bill. I don’t know Charlie as a person besides being absent at every family crisis and using his older sister as a baby sitter, per Home she babysat her nephews who watched Babe the entire time. However, from what we learn in One Breath and Christmas Carol, Melissa did whatever the fuck she wanted. In Anazazi, deleted scene, she stays with Maggie, and she doesn’t seem to have returned before Scully is in a coma. It seems like Mulder is the only support Maggie had during Scully’s abduction. Bill is introduced during the cancer arc, and then when he is to have his long awaited child, he and Tara had fertility issues. I think Bill tried to be the man but was crushed under the enormity of his father. So he became a stricter version. Bill Scully Sr seems way less overbearing.

Maggie is abusive and emotionally manipulative when the only time her daughter calls her is when she needs something. 

Would someone run to a person that they only have an obligation bond with when they are scared, and sad. Scully runs to Maggie when she believes Mulder is dead, meets up with Melissa first - who sucks at comfort, and asks for her mother and when she believes that he is part of the conspiracy. She feels safe with her mother. Why? Calling her mother when she needs someone to talk to in Within.

Vilifying good characters and defending evil ones.

The insistence on making women who are portrayed as cruel towards Mulder victims; flawed and imperfect as we all are while not giving the same consideration to men: Bill Mulder vs Teena Mulder, Phoebe and Diana vs Jeffrey Spender.

When should Maggie have defended Mulder to Bill? Scully never does it either.

Scully and Mulder being dismissive of Melissa’s spirituality

Maggie only following her daughter’s wishes in One Breath, it is in accordance with Scully’s living will.

RAMBLING X

Chris Carter’s writing focus being the message, not necessarily the plot but the greater societal commentary.

Vince Gilligan focusing on character, always character and not necessarily Mulder and Scully

Glen and James clearly showing their disdain for Mulder and David in their writing and that being rationalised as writing for both characters and writing the true Mulder and Scully.

MSI being about Mulder

MSII being about Scully

MSIII being about the Cigarette Smoking Man

MSIV being about William/Jackson

The breakup not being Chris Carters construct, but he being forced to take the public blame. The other writers giving much more of a mileage than Chris. Chris writing Plus One, but having to explain in an interview that they aren’t back together, referencing the later episodes particularly Rm9sbG93XJz (Followers) and Nothing Lasts Forever.

Glen and James never wanted Scully with Mulder. They wrote Scully the victim of the man who will simply never be worthy of her in their eyes. She can do whatever she wants and he is just supposed to be there without any thoughts and feelings of his own. A silent, nay silenced stoic rock that she can lean on when she needs him. That doesn’t exist outside of her.

Chris always seeing Mulder and Scully together but focusing on the spiritual romantic platonic connection, same as Gillian did with Scully and Daniel in all things, and not the sexual one.

Chris being blamed for other writers decisions. James seemingly killing off Jackson in Ghouli, the parallel to All Souls, somehow becoming Chris’ fault.

Kristen Cloke Morgan and Shannon Hambling arguing that a woman cannot exist as a person if she is with a man.

The obsession with equality in number of lines in Followers, but no real critique at the sidelining of David and Mulder in Home Again and Ghouli.

The Scully Effect panel complaining that Mulder gets one line about his son in Familiar. Whiie the entire episode of Ghouli focuses on Scully’s feelings about her son.

The MSR fandoms female contingents hatred of men. 

Glen Morgan and James Wong coming back to finish what they started in season four. Separate Scully and Mulder, destroying any chance of a romance, destroying any connection by having Scully sign Mulder into a mental institution.

Leaving him over a clinical depression.

Equality meaning equality not preferential treatment.

Scully’s sister and Mulder’s father both being killed in the season 2/season 3 three parter. Season 3 being about Scully getting justice for her sister. Mulder’s father’s death being swept under the carpet and unexplored.

RAMBLING 11

Questions: Who named Jackson, Chris or James, or rather renamed him? - commentary: Chris refers to him as William in his cue cards for the episodes, while James uses Jackson - so probably James

Does the renaming mean something?

Is it a hint that we should question Mulder’s paternity, William being named after his father, Fox Mulder’s father, William Mulder to ascertain paternity in Existence.

Name something and make it yours.

RAMBLING 12

If Mulder and Scully had a sixteen-year-old living with them in This said child would’ve ended up in the middle of a gun fight - their home not being safe. If the kid is at school or at a friend’s house to explain the absence, mom or dad would have to call/send a message so the kid stay safe. However, that could alert the bad guys to the kids present and they might use the kid to draw out the parents in a hostage situation.

RAMBLING 13

FOX the network waiting such a long time to announce a hiatus for The X-Files despite having filmed Conversation on the Fox Lot in January at the TCA.

RAMBLING 14

Gillian announcing that she is not doing anymore season of The X-Files after filming the first five episodes: My Struggle III, This, Plus One, The Lost Art of Forehead Sweat and Ghouli. Her and David’s Conversation on the Fox Lot centring around their age taking a toll on them in action scenes. Making her run, the handcuffs drawing blood. Is it the physicality of The X-Files that makers her reluctant to continue? The most physically taxing episode for her was This, sliding under a table, running, fighting and running in handcuffs. They also spend more time on camera when doing The X-Files than their other projects. I guess that is what happens when you’re not doing a traditional ensemble show.

RAMBLING 15

Emily - The doctor trying to confer fatherhood on Mulder but Scully denying it while claiming motherhood.

RAMBLING 16

The debunking of regression hypnosis. Malleability of memories. Convincing people they killed someone through memory manipulation experiment

RAMBLING 17

The ridiculing of men, the pedestalizing of women 

Personal preference of actor guiding the writing, humiliating David. Also present in fanfic, writers taking their frustations of David leaving the show out on Mulder. Interestingly such a practice has never been done against Gillian. No matter how angry people get with her they never punish Scully.

Penalising of male actors, sunflower seeds, hanging off buildings 

Men deserve to be punished, evil = men, male

RAMBLING 18

Infantilising Mulder, making him a flat farther, even as a joke

Difference between not doing something because of time prioritising and inability to complete a task due to executive function disabilities, never learning how to do it = not equating with incompetence, stupidity

Ignoring Scully’s issues, disturbing tendencies in discussions other than to defend Iolocus.

RAMBLING 19

Writing about the separation, which isn’t necessary and only TV show related, as a failure of one person = read male 

RAMBLING 20

Blaming Mulder for MSR not happening sooner, ignoring Scully not being ready or willing to date him before all things, dedicated relationship.

Complaining and ridiculing Mulder’s need for Scully’s consent while complaining about men’s inability to ask for consent, their ignoring consent when it’s not given, and assuming that they always have consent.

Ignoring that Mulder has to make every move, and complaining when that doesn’t happen quickly enough.

Inability to understand that men can be scared of being in a relationship for the same reasons as women, and not dismiss it as commitment issues.

RAMBLING 21

The double standards in the fandom, anything is okay as long as the writer is a woman, see people complaining about scenes in episodes written by women and blaming it on Chris Carter, not remembering who wrote it or being allowed to do anything in fanfics without being criticised.

Defending Mulder torture fanfics while calling Chris a misogynist for anything horrible that happens to Scully. Ignoring any pain dealt to men. Making Scully the only victim. Minimising Mulder being hospitalised more than Scully, kidnapped and endangered more, while insisting that Scully is always portrayed by Chris as a damsel in distress. Equality can’t happen when we can’t hurt both main characters.

Perpetuating the stereotype that women’s violence against men is funny and or acceptable.

Assault is assault even when it happens to a man and even when the assaulter is a woman. Anything you would call assault if it happens to Scully is assault when it happens to Mulder.

RAMBLING 22

That feeling when you realise James Wong cast Jackson (William) for season 11 after writing Mulder/Scully’s dreams about him in season 10 and the kids looking nothing alike.

RAMBLING 23

After thinking about it I don’t believe that David Duchovny’s Mulder has PTSD after his abduction episode would’ve been so happily received. Even now when people write about Mulder and Scully post his abduction it is always with the implication that he is in the wrong. That he should “man up” for Scully and the baby’s sake. An episode written by David would most likely have been much more sympathetic to Mulder, and quite possibly have been quite Mulder-centric. Justifying his need to find balance before taking on the role as a father, which is something he has to assume rather than know.

RAMBLING

Where does the idea that Mulder is not kind or attentive so that Scully would be surprised if he shows kindness coming from?

RAMBLING 24

Related Rambling, but I’m still waiting for that answer.

Paternity of William being an issue due to the implication of lack of consent. Would you be okay if Mulder wasn’t William’s biological father because Scully slept with another man while dating Mulder, tried IVF with someone different - someone else that she knew or an anonymous donor? Which method is preferred? What is more important Mulder being Jackson’s biological father or his creation being consensual?

Let’s stop pretending. Make William’s Scully’s alone and Glen Morgan and James Wong can finally write what they want to, the Scully panel won’t be pissed that Mulder got one line about their son in Familiar, and all the pain and all the feelings can be hers alone, like they already are.

[escoverthinker]

Song 10: Italy (Francesco Gabbani - Occidentali’s Karma)

***Now for something totally different***

Now, let’s be honest, if you’re reading this then you actually know all these songs already, in particular you know a lot about this one. The hyped up favourite, the predicted winner on a similar scale to Alexander Rybak and Loreen. Surely all of this year is just a glorified contest for second place at this point? Well, allow me to burst the bubble in this piece I am jazzily titling…

…Why Italy is not winning Eurovision 2017.

The review will be broken up into mini-sections as my blog usually is, but not the one’s I usually write around. By the end I will hope to shine a light on the cracks in the theory that Italy are running away with the win.

1. It became the favourite mostly based on when San Remo fell in the selection calendar

When Italy’s annual clusterfucky hot mess of a parade that is the San Remo festival finally drew to its conclusion and Francesco won, less than a quarter of the competing songs had been selected. At that point, the only other jolly uptempo number was Belarus’s NAVI and their folksy stomper. Plus, for the next fortnight or so, a lot more countries seemed to be picking songs with mid to low tempos. This created the impression that seems to have stuck that we’re “drowning in ballads” this year which feeds into the conventional wisdom that this is definitely winning. Having had all of the entries now declared, that simply is no longer true. But because it seems to have stuck that this is the lone uptempo, it hasn’t really shifted from its position atop the odds.

2. Other songs have come up that can win, the fan community has just been too infatuated with the Italian entry to appraise them fairly

Belgium can win. Australia can win. Israel can win. Sweden can win. Romania can win. Bulgaria might be able to win. It’s not impossible for Serbia to win. Some misguided eurofans seem pretty sure Portugal can win so I’ll include them for rhetorical effect. If all of the previously listed candidates fail in some way then Estonia could even win (but I’ll concede that’s a stretch).

But when all of these songs debuted, the fans (who are 100% of the people paying attention at this point) who were all convinced of the inevitable Italian walkover by that point jumped immediately to the “I just can’t see it winning” (pause: which is an opinion, which is infinitesimally susceptible to bias and not a legitimate reason why something can’t win) or it “isn’t as good as Italy” (again, an opinion which is totally fine if you’re describing what your favourites are, less so if you’re assessing the relative strengths of the potential contenders).

3. It didn’t win the San Remo televote until the final night

On the first night that this was in the San Remo heats (or semi-finals? I’m unsure what the exact nomenclature is) it came fourth on the public vote. That’s right, fourth. It was boosted into first place overall by the “press jury” that really loved it but it was very much dragged up to just barely beating Michele Bravi.

The second time this was up for a vote (we’re not counting the covers round where he came 8th because, obviously, nobody’s going to be voting on it), it came third both in the public voting and in the overall voting (the public vote is weighted at 40% in the second and then again in the final round – I know it doesn’t make sense, it’s San Remo – just go with it). A comfortable distance behind Michele Bravi and Fiorella Mannola.

Only in the final night of voting did it win the televote but even then, it was kept off first place by Fiorella.  Only in the superfinal did Francesco turn it around and make it over the line. What this suggests to me is that the song wasn’t strong enough to win domestically in the first round and needed the week’s build up and hype that the format of San Remo allows to happen because of the nature of what it is as a show to make it over the line, and even then only just barely. Compare this to the last time Italy won the televote, Il Volo’s Grande Amore in 2015. That won every single televote round it was in by an absolute landslide. This is an especially pertinent precedent of the SR televote being a good indicator of the Eurovision televote as Il Volo would then go on to comfortably win the final televote, but were brought back down to third by an only ~okay~ jury score (which was even indicated as well in San Remo as both sets of juries marked Grande Amore last out of the three superfinalists in 2015).

If you think that, for instance, Sweden will have difficulty winning because it didn’t win its televote, then you should also be mindful of Italy’s slow start in winning the televote.

4. Italy are an automatic qualifier

Automatic qualifiers are at a structural disadvantage in terms of going for the win (which for being automatic qualifiers is probably a fair compromise) because the ‘buzz’ and media coverage that might have propelled them forwards to the victory gets eaten up by the semi-final qualifiers. Sweden’s Frans and France’s Amir were widely believed to be in contention for the win in the build up to last year’s contest but the momentum from the semis was swallowed by by Russia, Ukraine and Australia. If they’d both had to qualify from a semi to get there, things may well have been different. Italy will face a similar hurdle they have to overcome this year to make it over the line, arguably amplified to even greater levels because the song relies on the buzz of “omg this guy with the dancing gorilla is going to win Eurovision” going into the final for enough people to be looking out for it. Wednesday morning the buzz will probably be all about “the Belgian girl with the moody electro song and the stunning staging” and Friday morning will likely be all about “that one with the yodelling”.

5. The message/narrative isn’t clearly readable on first listen/viewing

What, if you break it down and analyse it, is the message or narrative of the Italian song? The main crux of the lyrics are about how western culture is vacuous, technology dependant, fame obsessed and inherently depraved. This is emphasised by…dancing about with a Gorilla. Okay. That at least works in tandem with the song in a surrealist/borderline camp way so I’ll give Italy credit for that. The problem is, the vast majority of viewers seeing it for the first time who don’t speak or understand Italian won’t be reading it as a well thought out parody of western culture and a comment on contemporary culture. I bring this up because all of the main challengers for the Eurovision crown over the past few years had a message/narrative that was easily readable even without knowing the words. You knew what the message of “1944” was even if you didn’t speak Crimean Tatar or English. You could buy into the relationship of “Calm after the Storm” even if you didn’t speak English. But if you don’t understand Italian then, in its current form at least, all that is readable about it is a guy the wrong side of thirty doing a kitschy dance with a Gorilla.

And while we’re on that Gorilla…

6. The gorilla actually hampers the song’s scoring potential

A lot of people are cross reading the Gorilla as having the same totemic power as Conchita Wurst’s beard and Mans Zelmerlow’s stick figure animation. This is a false equivalency. While both the beard and the animation worked in a similar way as the gorilla by providing an easily memorable gimmick, neither of them strayed over into being read as crass or kitch. Conchita’s beard was the visible marker of her difference that caused her the pain of rejection and the animation/projections during the Heroes performance made the whole performance stunning on an aesthetic level and made it look just like a live performance of a music video. Whilst those gimmicks made the performance novel, it didn’t make them novelty. When a juror, for instance, saw them, they probably didn’t think ‘oh okay, this country aren’t taking it seriously’ and consciously or unconsciously adjusted their mark for that country.

The Gorilla, by contrast, is easily readable as a joke. If you didn’t know that this had won the San Remo festival and a country like Ireland were sending it, I don’t think people would have bought into the gorilla as working on that level. If you’re a jury in, let’s say, Latvia for instance, are you going to go for the kitschy gorilla dancing OR are you going to go for (say) the young guy with the sleek and modern pop song with memorable staging, the dark and emotive ballad or the young girl with the stunningly staged hooky electropop song.

If you think the jury are going to mark Romania down for being an “obvious novelty song” then you should have concerns about Italy’s jury score.

7. It doesn’t work (at least as well as some of the other entries) on an emotional level

A related factor to being marked down by the juries for being kitschy and an obvious novelty, Occidentali’s Karma doesn’t fit the pattern of the last few years of Eurovision high scorers because it doesn’t work effectively on an emotional level.

Jamala, Mans and Conchita all had the narrative of triumph through adversity (across the spectrum of persecution and discrimination to just personal insecurity), Emmelie de Forest (and basically every other peace ballad that's done well) was a “aww that’s sweet” moment, Sound of Silence was all about the struggle to connect in a disconnected world and Calm After The Storm was a will they/won't they about a couple that were breaking up. The basic thread that runs through all of them is that the message/narrative is about tugging people's heartstrings that is emphasised by things like the staging (and, like the message/narrative section, is performed in a way that is translatable across language barriers). For an expanded version of this (written in the run up to 2015) then there’s this article from Sofabet that provides a good introduction.

What then, really, is the emotional or affective core of Occidentali’s Karma? Most people if you ask them why it’s their/the favourite will tell you either “it’s funny”, which implies that this is a glorified novelty track, “it’s catchy” or that there’s a “euphoric instrumental”. Whilst it certainly makes sense that that should mean it’ll have an undeniable cross-continental appeal, the battleground of Eurovision is littered with the corpses of “catchy” songs with a “euphoric instrumental” that failed to make any kind of impression much at all (the song from last year that probably fits that description the most is probably Spain’s Say Yay and we all remember how that went!).

So why has the fan community elevated this catchy and frivolous song to the level of favourite when it seems so comparatively out of step with what you’d expect to be majorly challenging for the win? Well, in addition to the reasons we discussed at the start of this piece…

8. Italy is the “fetch” of Eurovision

For all that they don’t seem to have the same kind of approach to the contest, Sweden and Italy have more in common in terms of their positions in the Eurovision fandom than most people would care to believe. Both have their own extensive and popular independently from the Eurovision world selection show, both generally send songs that are professional and well produced and both will generally be overrated by the fan community in the run up to the main event.

Much has been said about why this is the case with Sweden. Generally if you’re over about 35 then it’ll be because of the peak schlager music days of Charlotte Perelli, Carola and Linda Bengtzing (among others) and if you’re under 35 it’s because the high quality and quantity of quality pop music the Swedes export around the world, currently best encapsulated in Zara Larsson. Italy faces a similar type of overhyping because people tend to have a very over-romanticised view of Italian music, related to the over romanticised view of Italy as a country in general. The difference is that a substantial part of the fandom will instantly write off the Sweden fans as “fanboys”, “the fans” or “the OGAEs”, nobody uses such words to deride people about overrating the Italian songs. And they are overrated. From 2012 onwards, the Italian song has always finished higher in the OGAE poll than they have in the final contest. So if you’re distasteful about Sweden being overrated by the fans every year, you ought to be equally as suspicious of fans overrating Italy (unless of course, your stereotypical view of the types of people who enjoy the Italian song every year aren’t perceived to be from a cultural minority in the way that the fans of the Swedish song are, in which case, stop being such a prick).

The fandom has been trying to make Italy “happen” ever since their return but, for the reasons I have outlined above, I have extensive reasons to believe that it’s not going to happen.

In Conclusion

Italy might still win. I’d be foolishly blind and blindly foolish to say that it isn’t going to score very well. What I wanted to show in this piece is that there are still reasons why it isn’t the locked in runaway that people are hyping it up to be, based on both the context in which it failed to win San Remo until the last moment, the fact that the staging makes it easily readable as a joke entry ergo the juries have an excuse to mark it down, Italy’s history of being overrated and over hyped every year since 2012, the fact that Italy cannot gain momentum via the semi finals and that the song doesn’t have an emotional register that other eurovision songs both past and present do have.

[jovebelle]

Introduce yourself to the rest of the class.

I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia. For many years I wrote under my given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, for the gay/lesbian and alternative press in San Francisco, including the Sentinel, Plexus, and the San Francisco Bay Guardian. I also published poetry and short fiction in a number of literary journals, and articles in various magazines and newspapers.

A few years ago I tried writing erotica under the pseudonym Pascal Scott. My erotic short stories have appeared in several anthologies including Thunder of War, Lightning of Desire: Lesbian Historical Military Erotica; Through the Hourglass: Lesbian Historical Romance; Order Up: A Menu of Lesbian Romance and Erotica; Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink; Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 2 (2017); and Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 3 (2018).

Now I’m trying thrillers. Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller is the first in a series of novels coming from Sapphire Books Publishing.

Who are you and what makes you tick?

What makes me tick? Writing. I truly believe that the writing life is the best life imaginable, and I’m lucky to be able to live it and to share it with my lover, who is also a writer.

What does it mean to you to be an author?

An author is a writer who has been published. A writer is someone who has pages of written words lying around that may never get the blessing of a publisher. Being published is a privilege. I’m extremely fortunate to be a published author. There are lots of good writers who never get published.

What makes a writer a writer?

Writing is an obsession. Thomas Mann said a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. The compulsion to write, no matter how your day is going, is what makes a writer a writer. The novelist Don Winslow talks about how when he committed to writing five pages a day, he forced himself to keep that commitment no matter how his day unfolded, including the day he was chased and shot at by drug lords.

A writer is someone who understands that it takes more than desire to write well. As Christopher Hitchens said, “Everyone has a book in them, and in most cases that’s exactly where it should stay.” Everybody has a story to tell, but not everybody can tell a story. Writers need to learn their craft, to study grammar, to respect the beauty of the English language, to take classes, to get a job at a newspaper, to do all the things writers have always been advised to do. And read. If you’re not reading, you’re not a writer. Read everything that’s good. As Jewell Gomez said recently, if you’re reading only authors who look like you, you’re not reading widely enough.

Are you promoting a specific book? Tell us about it. Include the book blurb if you’d like.

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Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller.

Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

 Tell us about your biggest guilty pleasure. For example, to you sit naked in your pantry in the middle of the night and eat Nutella with your fingers?

Coffee. I joke about it, but I drink too much coffee. Seriously too much. But still, it’s coffee. I’m interested in watching where the American Psychiatric Association is going with their “Caffeine Use Disorder,” which came this close to be included in the DSM-5 (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, their bible). Now that they’ve depathologized sexual diversity and consensual kink, they’ve got to have somebody to pick on. Guess it’s going to be us coffee drinkers. I’m only half kidding here.

Tell us one thing that you’re passionate about. For example, would you strap yourself to an oil rigging a la Lucy Lawless with a Greenpeace sign in your hands?

Uh, no to the Greenpeace strapping. I’m passionate about my lover, the author Josette Murray. I’m passionate about writing, reading, words, books. That’s about it. Hemingway said he needed two things in his life to be happy: work to do and someone to love. That’s my formula, too.

What’s your writing process? That is, do you have a particular place you write and/or time of day? Do you have any particular things you do before you write? (e.g. do you listen to music, drink coffee, take dance breaks…)

I usually get up between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. and am at my desktop computer first thing, drinking coffee. I write until about noon, then break, and then take it up again in the late afternoon or early evening. This is my schedule now that I am retired, which is wonderful. When I was working fulltime, I wrote when I could—in the mornings before work or in the evenings when they were free, or on the weekends.

Tell us something that most people don’t know about you (unless you’d have to kill us, in which case tell us something that some people don’t know).

Like several of the characters I write about, I was a ward of the state of California and grew up in foster care. I know there are good foster parents out there, but there are too many bad ones, and too many bad group homes. The comedian Monroe Martin, who grew up in care, once joked that foster care is where they take you out of a situation in which you were neglected, molested, or abused and put you into that exact same situation. Too often that’s what happens when a kid goes into care. It did with me, which is part of why I became a writer.

Is there a book by another author that you wish you had written?

The Silent Wife by A.S.A. Harrison. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith.

If time and money were no problem, where would you most like to go in the world?

Europe. I’ve never been. Back in my twenties when so many people I knew seemed to be backpacking through Europe and staying in hostels, I was busy working a survival job, finishing my BA (which took me nine years to complete), and juggling parttime assignments as a freelance writer. If I had all the money in the world—I’m retired so time isn’t the problem now—I’d travel more and see Europe. And I’d do more Olivia Cruises. I got back recently from a Sapphire Literary Adventures at Sea cruise with Olivia to the Caribbean. If I had money, I’d live on a Holland American ship and cruise the world with Olivia.

And finally, what sorts of writing projects are next for you?

I just submitted the second book in the Hard series to my publisher, Sapphire Books. It’s called Hard Luck: An Elizabeth Taylor Bundy Thriller. It picks up where Hard Fall ends and follows the Elizabeth character. I’m currently working on Hard Line: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller. Hard Fall took place in 1989; Hard Luck in 1996. It’s 2008 in Hard Line, and this third book in the series brings the reader up-to-date to that year in the lives of Stone McStone and Zoe Martinelli. And, of course, in every Hard book somebody dies, and there are disturbing circumstances and unanswered questions about the death. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a thriller, would it?

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Pascal Scott is the pseudonym of the author of Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller from Sapphire Books. Writing under her given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, her poetry, short fiction, and newspaper and magazine articles have appeared in numerous publications. She has a BA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University and an MA in Liberal Studies from the University of North Carolina-Greensboro. After a long career in academia, she retired happily to Decatur, Georgia.

  www.sapphirebooks.com

Facebook/Priscilla Scott Rhoades

Twitter/pascalscottwrit

https://www.amazon.com/Hard-Fall-McStone-Martinelli-Thriller-ebook/dp/B07QFYNMC5/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_3?keywords=hard+fall%3A+a+mcstone&qid=1558213269&s=books&sr=1-3-fkmrnull

  Back Cover Blurb

  Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone.

Stone, the university’s graduate admissions officer, doesn’t believe it’s a suicide. The Emily she knew had too much going for her to take her own life. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Their investigation takes them into the private lives of San Francisco’s exotic dancers and into Emily’s dark past where they discover that some secrets can be deadly.

Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

Q & A with Pascal Scott Introduce yourself to the rest of the class. I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia.