#oh and seth from lost terminal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c0rpsedemon · 1 year ago

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hey can you imagine if the 3rd period had tumblr? it would've been crazyyyyy

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🌲 daughterofwhite 🔁

🟨 lucifeniaconfessions Follow

i feel so so guilty so much of the time.... i destroyed elphegort, i killed michaela and i tormented the people i was supposed to rule and protect... but most of all he took the fall for it... there is nothing i can do to make amends but feel guilty and hope that in our next life we can be reunited and i can be good. i really am trying though, i chased away a bird that was tampering with the sapling the other day, but that doesn't even begin to fix the fact that her blood is still on my hands... sometimes i still send him asks on here and wait for an answer... oh god i miss him so much...

🌲 daughterofwhite

DM me

62K notes

🐙 seth-remade76

Staff terminated me again for no good reason this time. I'm @seth-remade75 if it wasn't clear.

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🧀 arte-mis 🔁

◻️ am-i-the-asshole-official Follow

🕶 anonymous asked: WIBTA for poisoning my pregnant girlfriend?

When I (29M) was young my parents set me up with an arranged marriage from a girl my age from a neighboring kingdom. When we first met I was a shitty kid and was kinda mean to her about her weight at the time but slowly began to develop feelings for her, until ultimately the engagement was broken off due to her disturbing behavior.

I didn't hear anything about her for years until I was in my 20s, she'd regained her family's lost political power and was funneling a lot of resources into widening her culinary exploits, so I decided to learn to cook.

Eventually, last year I was kidnapped and learned that she'd lost her mind, and the only solution was to remove a specific item from her possession, I agreed to help and assumed the identity of a famous chef, and she hired me. I was disgusted by the things she asked me to cook and her servants treated me poorly, like they knew I was suspicious, but I got used to it and was happy to have reunited with her, and found out that the real reason the servants hated me was because I looked like their dad.

Eventually one thing led to another, she discovered my true identity and you can probably guess what happened next. Shortly afterwards, we were visited by the military higher ups of her kingdom and one of the servants killed one of their messengers, to which she reacted by raising an undead army to wipe them out, and told me she planned to eat everything in the world. I tried to escape but was caught and forbidden from ever leaving the castle.

I have an heirloom from one of my ancestors which I believe may be the only thing that could kill her, I plan to grind up what's left of it and mix it into a meal for the both of us so we can die together and the world can be saved from her. WIBTA?

◻️ am-i-the-asshole-official:

What are these acronyms?

🐔 a-pollo Follow

kill yourself

🧀 arte-mis

kill yourself

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👨‍💻 usecitizen2 🔁

👩‍💻 usecitizen Follow

come on you guys have gottt to stop pinkwashing Gallerian Marlon's actions... yeah he's one of the most famous gay men out there but he is NOT one of us. you all saw his ruling on the Scherzer trial, the rich only care about their own.

👨‍💻 usecitizen2

It's especially upsetting to see considering how progressive he was at the start of his career. A lot of people were too young at the time to remember, but his opposition to witch trials and his exposure and conviction of Loki Freezis were massive steps forward at the time. It really is a shame how everything shifted after his daughter died, now he only cares about the money.

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💤 giftsleep 🔁

💙 aesblog Follow

someday my prince will come

#aes

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✨ othertwin

is anyone else kinda worried about the way @/themis8 has been posting recently? i've reported her blog to staff a few times but i don't think it's enough. i really think she's going to hurt herself or others one of these days.

#allen.txt

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🍷 evilfoodeater Follow

Pregnancy cravings are crazyyyy. What do you Mean I want to eat my boyfriend lol.

🍷 evilfoodeater Follow

Arte and Pollo are looking kinda edible right now...

🐔 a-pollo Follow

🧀 arte-mis

7 notes

🎙 rinchanarchive

Rin Chan at Milanais Theater, September 6 606

#rin chan #september 606 #milanais theater

687 notes

✨ othertwin

🕶 anonymous asked: why is your url othertwin when i see you around enbizaka and you're an only child?

✨ othertwin: don't worry about it

#allen.txt

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🍷 evilfoodeater Follow

Pregnancy cravings are crazyyyy. What do you Mean I want to eat my boyfriend lol.

🐔 a-pollo Follow

do it

🧀 arte-mis

do it

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🌲 daughterofwhite 🔁

🔷 kylesart Follow

🕶 anonymous asked: do you have receipts on the @/rinthenun allegations??? she's so nice it's hard to believe she'd do any of that

🔷 kylesart: tl;dr, she's just @/princessriliane rebranded, long version under the cut

Keep Reading

🌲 daughterofwhite

First of all, your statements regarding Michaela are blatantly untrue, she was a lesbian and your attempts to rewrite that after her death are upsetting to say the least. Second of all, the green hunting happened a very long time ago and there's no reason for you to be dragging old trauma back up. Third of all, Rin has dedicated her life to making up for the harm she's caused in the past and, as a loved one of one of the victims, I feel like it's cruel to deny her a second chance after all the improvements she's made.

579 notes

✨ drapersdaughter

anyone else ever feel like they're waiting for someone they've never met before

#rin.txt

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🐙 seth-remade76 🔁

🔫 themis8 Follow

what if i killed myself

🐙 seth-remade76

don't

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✨ othertwin

🕶 anonymous asked: is your name allen or ren???

✨ othertwin: don't worry about it

#allen.txt

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🔑 karchess 🔁

👗 tiredprincess Follow

so ungrateful to be chosen for the harem and to try and reject him over it. do you not know how many girls would kill to be in your shoes?????

🔑 karchess

You dukefuckers never fail to reach new lows.

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robolover · 2 years ago

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Once again thinking about robots/ai that are made to house people. Whether they're mechs or ships or ai in control of buildings. Just. Being created to hold but not being able to interact directly. Being ever present but not necessarily included. Witnessing something upsetting inside of your own body and not being able to intervene. Thinking about ai who've lost everyone who called them home and are forced to carry them with them. Who didn't have the ability to save them but still blame themselves because they were supposed to be a safe place for them, a shield to protect them from the outside world.

#.txt #main ones i have in mind as i write this are ART + titan mechs #but also mostly with one of my ocs in mind that i havent really spoken about yet #oh and seth from lost terminal #gotta listen to more of that podcast. anyways!#woe! robot angst be upon ye!

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pinkpuffballdude · 3 years ago

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anyway I'm making a post about the highlights of my Lost Terminal playlist, because I Want To and yesterday was my birthday

the first three songs always make me scream in this Specific Combination, which is always the sign of a good playlist. we start with Spaceman by the Killers, go into Here's A Health to the Company by the Longest Johns, and third it's Oh The Places You'll Go, which is. aaaaaaaaaaaa. the first one is about being hopeful in space, that's my vibe from it. I've also used it as a Dr Who song before, in specific reference to theeeeeee Niel Gaiman episode I can't remember the title of right now, with the line "the little boxes will make you angry"; "the star maker says it ain't so bad//the dream makers gonna make you mad". BUT in this case it's about the scientific expedition that went into space all full of hope, and then. couldn't come home. leading into the next song, Here's A Health, about parting with good friends and going on a long, possibly deadly journey that you may or may not return from. it's very bittersweet, holding the love these people have between one another alongside the uncertainty of their future; the line "for we may or might never all meet here again".

so far it's mostly focused on the researchers on the station, HOWEVER the third song segues back to Seth, here being from the pov of his mother, the programmer on board who spearheaded the plan to create a self aware ai for the ship so they could continue their expedition once rations ran out. this is a song about sending someone on their way, letting them go without leaving them behind, and watching them with pride and love. it's such a sweet song, I love it so much, and it really ties in with the vibe of the whole podcast very well. it's not *sad*, not really, but it isn't exuberant either; it's a parting, a separation of people who love one another, and even in the best of times that's a sadness. the entire world is in pieces, ground control has stopped responding to Seth and Antarctica, he's alone above the earth... but he has hope. he has his friends! and he can still hear people, a radio signal in the alps somewhere, and his power is getting dangerously unstable but he has *options*, and much more importantly, he has hope.

there's a few songs between here and there, but that's why I added All This Time to this playlist. I remember walking out of school with my headphones on singing it as loud as I could; it's such a *good* song for when things are bad, but there's still good parts to be found. and it's about future space robots so it fits *perfectly*. I mean the gist of it is when the world ends, when the structures that confine us collapse, all that will be left is us, and whatever time we want to spend. there is never going to be a perfect ending, but there might be a good one, and in the meantime I can do my little mischief and find my small joys. the whole album is like that, so there's a few more songs off Solid State here, but I won't go over all of them.

that's the notable spoiler free/light songs on this playlist, so they're only within the first few as I made the playlist to follow the plot of the podcast to the point I am (Season 4 now, at the time Season 2). I might reblog this with more analysis under a cut or smth later, so people can avoid spoilers (and uh. length). but for now! this is all >:3

#true story #lost terminal #lost terminal pod #chews on the walls. aw yea babey #literally this entire playlist is *rotates podcast in my mind*#theres some fun fluffy songs on here too #like I Love You For Psychological Reasons (a very Seth song)#but idk if I'll cover those in detail since they're mainly here as a breather between the more emotional songs #and don't hold a terrible amount of significance #but YEA. podded cast.

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crowdvscritic · 3 years ago

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round up // JULY 21

‘Tis the season to beat the heat at the always-cold theatres and next to fans set at turbo speed. While my movie watching slowed a bit with the launch of the Summer Olympics on July 23rd, I’ve still got plenty of popcorn-ready and artsy recommendations for you. A few themes in the new-to-me pop culture I’m recommending this month:

Casts oozing with embarrassing levels of talent (sometimes overqualified for the movies they’re in)

Pop culture that is responding or reinterpreting past pop culture

Stories that get weEeEeird

Keep on-a-scrollin’ to see which is which!

July Crowd-Pleasers

1. Double Feature – ‘90s Rom-Coms feat. Lots of Lies: Mystery Date (1991) + The Pallbearer (1996)

In Mystery Date (Crowd: 7.5/10 // Critic: 6/10), Ethan Hawke and Teri Polo get set up on a blind date that gets so bizarre and crime-y I’m not sure how this didn’t come out in the ‘80s. In The Pallbearer (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), David Schwimmer and Gwyneth Paltrow try to combine The Graduate with Four Weddings and a Funeral in a story about lost twentysomethings. If you don’t like rom-coms in which circumstances depend on lots of lies and misunderstandings, these won’t be your jam, but if you’re like me and don’t mind these somewhat-cliché devices, you’ll be hooked by likeable casts and plenty of rom and com.

2. The Tomorrow War (2021)

I thought of no fewer movies than this list while watching: Alien, Aliens, Angel Has Fallen, Cloverfield, Interstellar, Kong: Skull Island, Prometheus, A Quiet Place: Part II, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars: The Revenge of the Sith, The Silence of the Lambs, The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and World War Z. And you know what? I like all those movies! (Okay, maybe I just have a healthy respect/fear of The Silence of the Lambs.) The Tomorrow War may not be original, but it borrows some of the best tropes and beats from the sci-fi and action genres, so much so I wish I could’ve seen Chris Pratt and Co. fight those gross monsters on a big screen. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6/10

3. Dream a Little Dream (1989)

My July pick for the Dumb Rom-Com I Nevertheless Enjoyed! I CANNOT explain the mechanics of this body switch comedy to you—nor can the back of the DVD case above—but, boy, what an ‘80s MOOD. I did not know I needed to see a choreographed dance routine starring Jason Robards and Corey Feldman, but I DID. All I know is some movies are made for me and that I’m now a card-carrying member of the Two Coreys fan club. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

4. Black Widow (2021)

The braids! The Pugh! Black Widow worked for me both as an exciting action adventure and as a respite from the Marvel adventures dependent on a long memory of the franchise. (Well, mostly—keep reading for a second MCU rec much more dependent on the gobs of previous releases.) Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7.5/10

5. Liar Liar (1997)

Guys, Jim Carrey is hilarious. That’s it—that’s the review. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10

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6. Sob Rock by John Mayer (2021)

It’s very possible I’ve already listened to this record more than all other John Mayer records. It doesn’t surpass the capital-G Greatness of Continuum, but it’s a little bit of old school Mayer, a little bit ‘80s soft rock/pop, and I’ve had it on repeat most of the two weeks since it’s been out. Featuring the boppiest bop that ever bopped, at least one lyrical gem in every track, and an ad campaign focused on Walkmans, this record skirts the line between Crowd faves and Critic-worthy musicianship.

7. Double Feature – ‘00s Ben Affleck Political Thrillers: The Sum of All Fears (2002) + State of Play (2009)

In The Sum of All Fears (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), Ben Affleck is Jack Ryan caught up in yet another international incident. In State of Play (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10), he’s a hotshot Congressman caught up in a scandal. Both are full of plot twists and unexpected turns, and in both, Affleck is accompanied by actors you’re always happy to see, like Jason Bateman, James Cromwell, Russell Crowe, Jeff Daniels, Viola Davis, Morgan Freeman, Philip Baker Hall, David Harbour, Rachel McAdams, Helen Mirren, Liev Schreiber, and Robin Wright—yes, I swear all of those people are in just those two movies.

8. Loki (2021-)

Unlike Black Widow, you can’t go into Loki with no MCU experience. The show finds clever ways to nudge us with reminders (and did better at it than Falcon and the Winter Soldier), but be forewarned that at some point, you’re just going to have to let go and accept wherever this timeline-hopper is taking you. An ever-charismatic cast keeps us grounded (Owen Wilson, Jonathan Majors, and an alligator almost steal the show from Tom Hiddleston in some eps), but while Falcon lasted an episode or two too long, Loki could’ve used a few more to flesh out its complicated plot and develop its characters. Thankfully, the jokes matter almost as much as the sci-fi, so you can still have fun even if you have no idea what’s going on.

9. Double Feature – Bruce Willis: Die Hard With a Vengeance (1995) + The Whole Nine Yards (2000)

Before Bruce Willis began starring in many random direct-to-DVD movies I only ever hear about in my Redbox emails, he was a Movie Star smirking his way up the box office charts. In the third Die Hard (Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 7.5/10), he teams up with Samuel L. Jackson to decipher the riddles of a terrorist madman (Jeremy Irons), and it’s a thrill ride. In The Whole Nine Yards (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10), he’s hitman that screws up dentist Matthew Perry’s boring life in Canada, and—aside from one frustrating scene of let’s-objectify-women-style nudity—it’s hilarious.

10. This Is the End (2013)

On paper, this is not a movie for me. An irreverent stoner comedy about a bunch of bros partying it up before the end of the world? None of things are for Taylors. But with a little help of a TV edit to pare down the raunchy and crude bits, I laughed my way through and spent the next several days thinking through its exploration of what makes a good person. While little of the plot is accurate to Christian Gospel and theology, some of its big ideas are consistent enough with the themes of the book of Revelation I found myself thinking about it again in church this morning. (Would love to know if Seth Rogen ever expected that.) Plus, I love a good self-aware celebrity spoof—can’t tell you how many times I’ve just laughed remembering the line, “It’s me, Jonah Hill, from Moneyball”—and an homage to horror classics. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10

July Critic Picks

1. Summer of Soul (…or, When the Television Could Not Be Televised) (2021)

Even director Questlove didn’t know about the Harlem Cultural Festival, but now he’s compiled the footage so we can all enjoy one of the coolest music fest lineups ever, including The 5th Dimension, B.B. King, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Nina Simone, Sly and the Family Stone, and Stevie Wonder, who made my friend’s baby dance more than once in the womb. See it on the big screen for top-notch audio. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

2. Good Morning, Vietnam (1987)

Robin Williams takes on the bureaucracy, disillusionment, and malaise of the Vietnam War with comedy. Williams was a one-of-a-kind talent, and here it’s on display at a level on par with Aladdin. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10

3. Against the Rules Season 2 (2020-21)

Michael Lewis (author of Moneyball, adapted into a film starring Jonah Hill), is interested in how we talk about fairness. This season he looks at how coaches impact fairness in areas like college admissions, credit cards, and youth sports.

4. Bugsy Malone (1976)

A gangster musical starring only children? It’s a little like someone just picked ideas out of a hat, but somehow it works. You can hear why in the Bugsy Malone episode Kyla and I released this month on SO IT’S A SHOW?, plus how this weird artifact of a film connects with Gilmore Girls.

5. The Queen (2006)

Before The Crown, Peter Morgan wrote The Queen, focusing on Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren) in the days following the death of Princess Diana. It’s a complex and compassionate drama, both for the Queen and for Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen, who has snuck up on me to become a favorite character actor). Maybe I’ve got a problem, but I’ll never tire of the analysis of this famous family. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9.5/10

6. The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

This month at ZekeFilm, we took a closer look at Revisionist Westerns we’ve missed. I fell hard for Roy Bean, and I think you will, too, if for no other reason than you might like a story starring Jacqueline Bisset, Ava Gardner, John Huston, Paul Newman, and Anthony Perkins. Oh, and a bear! Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

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7. New Trailer Round Up

Naked Singularity (Aug. 6) – John Boyega in a crime thriller!

Queenpins (Aug. 10) – A crime comedy about extreme coupon-ing!

Dune (Oct. 1) – I’ve been cooler on the anticipation for this film, but this new look has me cautiously intrigued thanks to the Bardem + Bautista + Brolin + Chalamet + Ferguson + Isaac + Momoa + Zendaya of it all.

The Last Duel (Oct. 15) – Affleck! Damon! Driver!

Ghostbusters: Afterlife (Nov. 11) - I’m not sure why we need this, but I’m down for the Paul Rudd + Finn Wolfhard combo

King Richard (Nov. 19) - Will Smith as Venus and Serena’s father!

Encanto (Nov. 24) – Disney and Lin-Manuel Miranda making more magic together!

House of Gucci (Nov. 24) - Gaga! Pacino! Driver!

Also in July…

Kyla and I took a look at the classic supernatural soap Dark Shadows and why Sookie might be obsessed with it on Gilmore Girls.

I revisited a so-bad-it’s-good masterpiece that’s a surrealist dream even Fellini couldn’t have cooked up. Yes, for ZekeFilm I wrote about the Vanilla Ice movie, Cool as Ice, which is now a part of my Blu-ray collection.

Photo credits: Against the Rules. All others IMDb.com.

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whumper-boi · 4 years ago

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So good news, I finally finished with writing out the first prompt of the whump advant calender

OH MY FUCKING GOD I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY TAKE IT OUT OF DRAFTS AND POST IT SO ITS A DAY LATE LMAOO SORRY GUYS

(Note that they are ocs to my book I’m writing so don’t worry about spoiling or anything)

@whump-advent-calendar thank you, and this is for the first prompts

Y’all this was much longer then I thought it would be but oh well. Also, I was really out of it when I started this so forgive me cause it isn’t my best work.

Also sorry about the awkward spacing, was no one going to tell me there was a limit to the amount of spaces you could do?

**Blue- Martin’s texts

TW for mentions of non-con, mentions of child abuse, panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts, nearly freezing to death, hypothermia, paranoia, cursing, anxiety, mild(?) dissociation (like it’s written that it happened but he doesn’t remember it (obviously)), ptsd

This hadn’t happened since the thunderstorm incident. However, unlike that where he had been purposely locked outside in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm, he had come home early from a sleepover, and no one else was home.

Martin shivered, pulling his skully over the tips of his ears. After he realized that he lost his house key somewhere, he tried to call his father, but to no avail, as he was most likely still on a plane.

Majesty, his service dog who accompanied him on the walk home, nudged him gently on the leg. He sensed his distress, circling around him before standing at his side again.

Backtracking a little, Martin had gone over to one of his best friend Sadie’s house, with intentions to spend the night, but her having a surprise doctors appointment had made him decide to walk home with Majesty, (even in the blistering cold, he didn’t want to bother his friend’s parents) and lose his key somewhere in the process.

This wouldn’t be a problem if the spare was still there, but it wasn’t? He wondered if someone else brought it in and forgot to put it back.

His father, Oliver, and his father’s best friend, Nick, were both on a business trip and wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow.

He didn’t know what to call Nick, as he saw the man like another parent, but he couldn’t handle the idea of putting his trust into another adult only to be majorly fucked over again. He had been around since before Martin was born, this was true, but Molly, his mother, had also been around since he was born, and she chose his rapist over him.

So yeah, he was a little scared of letting his guard down, even if he knew Nick would never hurt him. Oliver had even made sure of this

(The two men had been telling stories about before Martin and Tristan were younger, and even before they were born.

“If we’re really reminiscing on your births, I’ll never forget when Oliver held you for the first time Mars. Mostly because your father had threatened to terminate our business partnership and friendship, and I quote, ‘cut your prick off and make you eat it’ if I ever put a hand on you.”

“I still stand by it mate,” Oliver said, cuffing Nick on the shoulder.)

And his father wasn’t really one to go back on promises, especially with Martin.

The only other person who had access to the house would be Tristan, Nick’s son and someone who was like a brother to him, but, of course, he wasn’t home, and the bitch wouldn’t answer his phone. That wasn’t a surprise though, he was probably at a house party getting slammed.

Majesty let out a small huff, nudging him in the leg again, telling him that he was going out of it again. He pet him, checking his pockets one more time before giving up.

Great, fucking brilliant. He plopped down on the stone steps leading to the front door, which were freezing, and pulled out his phone, checking for messages. None.

A gust of wind blew, making him put his phone away and curl up to try and get some feeling back into his numbing fingers and toes. It really had to be this cold on the day he decided to not wear his leather jacket.

The only thing he had to protect him from the elements was the MCR T-shirt over a black longsleeve, cargo pants that had like, seven pockets on them, Doc Marten (ha), the skully, of couse, and his headphones. Also, a ton of metal jewlrey, basically he looked like the first picture you would find if you googled “Goth looks”.

Majesty sat next to him, and he leaned into the dog, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing.

Seeing as he couldn’t do anything other than wait, he tried to get his mind off of it, by thinking about the boarding school he would be going back to in a few weeks.

The boarding school in question, was an academy for advanced people with different skills and abilities, and it wasn’t something that was easy to get into. He had gotten a scholarship for the academic part of the school, which was apparently, a very hard thing to do. They only chose the smartest of the smart, who were all adults, except for him of course.

Maybe because he had an IQ of 216, higher than everyone at the school. That seemed to raise a lot of discourse with some people who couldn’t handle the fact that a 16 year old was smarter than them.

Interestingly enough, Martin couldn’t bring himself to actually give a fuck when it came down to it, because he had the scholarship, not them.

The only person who was even close to his age was a boy named Matthew, from America. Detroit, more specifically. The two had been roommates, Matthew was in because apparently, he was a fucking amazing dancer that was scholarship worthy.

Martin hadn’t seen it, but if he got into that school it was probably mind blowing, and he would never question his ability.

Matthew had been respectful, and pretty, and he had the audacity to make Martin fall for his southern accent and obnoxiously kind words that he didn’t feel like he deserved.

He even asked him at one point.

“Well you’re a genius M, so it’s going to be lightwork for you,” Matthew said, after Martin had joked about wanting to crack the Zodiac ciphers.

“Nah, I’ll just stick to arguing with teachers and wasting away decoding video games.”

The other boy hummed. “Well, whatever you choose to do, you’re going to do good.” He put his fingers in a ‘ok’ pose, and gave a playful smirk that made him look like a meme, and then he looked up at Martin.

He couldn’t exactly tell what emotion was being portrayed on his own face at the moment, but it made Matthew’s smile drop, and he looked at him with nothing but concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, there something on my face?” he half joked, feeling it fall flat as soon as it came out of his mouth. He tried to neutralize his expression, but this only made things look worse.”

“Martin…” he hesitated. “Was it something I said?”

Yes, yes it was. He opened his mouth, then closed it, growing warm and horrifyingly, feeling tears start to well up. He had, by no means been insulted with what he said. The support and friendliness was what got to him.

The whole thing was, he had support from other people, but this felt… different. Martin felt like the people around him felt obligated to do it. Even so, he had only known Matthew for such a short time, but the american he only proved that he cared.

Maybe this was the insecurity in his brain talking, or maybe the things Seth said and did to him were finally starting to take a toll on him. He just had to know why he cared so much. Well, when in Rome right?

“Why are you so nice to me?” He asked, crossing his arms, a nervous tic that he had developed.

Matthew didn’t even look like he registered the question. “I’m...not?” What? If that wasn’t being nice then what was it?

As if the other boy could hear his question, he added: “I’m just treating you with basic decency? Like, anyone with an ounce of empathy should do.” Martin stared at him.

But holding the door? Not once telling him to shut up at his long rants? Waiting for him at the top of the stairs when he made it up first? His friends did the same, and so did his family, but they had known each other for a while, and…but Seth did it, only when he was in a good mood, only when he was feeling nice, and he just naturally assumed this was what everyone was doing. Conditionally. They were doing it because they cared?

This was hurting his head. Multiple thoughts littered his head and he couldn’t sort them out fast enough to process a coherent sentence. His logical side just straight up vanished.

Matthew walked up to him, cautiously sticking his arm out and gently grabbing Martin’s shoulder.

His head suddenly blanked, whatever he had been thinking about just stopped at the contact. “Well,” Martin laughed awkwardly, “I guess you learn something new everyday.”

The other boy gave a smile, and he thought he could spare them both the mental breakdown he would inevitably have, then the arse had to say: “You’re deserving of respect darlin’, unconditionally.”

And wonderfully, he started to cry. The more correct term would be more like, loudly sobbing, but save himself a little bit of dignity. Matthew had once again proved how amazing he was, holding him.

A loud noise sounded from somewhere, knocking him out of the memory. He felt a smile on his face though, thinking about the American. His boyfriend, seeing as two hours after he shared his entire life story, they made out on their dorm floor.

He stopped smiling when he felt his lips crack in the cold weather. Licking them didn’t help, they dried back up seconds later.

Martin stood up, shivering at the lack of movement. He tried the door again, and when that didn’t work, he called Majesty and walked to the backside of the house. It was locked. Well, it was good that they were responsible with locking doors.

He then tried the windows, but remembered that he closed them because of his hate of the cold, and locked them because of his paranoia. He thought about breaking a window, but came to the conclusion that a locksmith was most likely better.

He picked up his phone, then stopped, thinking about it. If someone he didn’t know could pick their way into the house, what’s stopping someone with a grudge doing the exact same thing?

They had cameras and an alarm system, but a short circuit somewhere around the house could disable them, or if a computer tech tapped into them…

Martin felt a weight in his chest. If a locksmith was successfully able to get the door open, then anyone could be able to get the door open, and anyone included Seth and his friends. If they ever decided they wanted to get back at him, they could get in easily.

He didn’t realize that he dropped his phone, and barely noticed when he stepped on it, looking around. Martin scanned the streets, starting to worry that Seth would have this idea, and show up.

He suddenly couldn’t breathe, now frantically looking for his stepfather’s car. He would kill Martin if he saw him, he’d hurt him and kill him.

He was tied to that bed, hands touching all over him. He didn’t want it, he begged for it to be over.

The hands were on him again. Martin swore he could feel them dragging against his skin, and he physically recoiled, tripping and falling into the grass.

He didn’t want to be back there, not again.

“Please, stop!”

“No!” He screamed at nothing, covering his head with his arms. Martin felt a sob build up, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Seth was going to find him, and even if Martin went back into the house, he’d find a way in, or break the door. He couldn't stop him, and no one would know what happened.

Martin felt something on his face, warm and wet in contrast to the cold. Then he felt something push against his chest, something that was warm. He instinctively reached out, wrapping his arms around whatever it was, shivering and still struggling to breathe.

He needed to look at the street again, see if he was coming, but the same wet feeling was on his face again.

After a couple minutes, he opened his eyes, the tears freezing against his face. He realized that it was Majesty who he was holding in his arms, and he realized that he was licking Martin’s face, just doing his job.

He pulled the Doberman closer, taking a few seconds before sitting up. Majesty instantly got up after he did, nudging his arm gently, waiting for Martin to move off the frozen grass. They both made it back to the door eventually, Martin working on clearing his mind by asking himself if it was the panic attack or the cold that was making him super tired.

He looked for his phone, stressing out until Majesty quickly trotted over and dropped it at his feet. He ignored the little bits of drool, seeing three texts and a missed call from Tristan.

Trishyfishy👀👄👀

December 14, 7:56 PM

Yo, what the fuck do you want

Jkjk, everything alright

Call me Mars.

Martin went to the contact and called, realizing he could hardly feel his hands. “Hello?” His voice trembled slightly, either from the crying or the cold, he wasn’t sure.

“Alright Martin?”

He chuckled hollowly. “Ah, I got locked out of the house.”

“Are you alright? You sound like you’re crying.”

“I got locked out of the fucking house Tristan. It’s like, -2 degrees out here.” There was a beat of silence.

“I’m on the way back, so uh, just… hang in there?” He rolled his eyes, petting Majesty. “I’m like, fifteen minutes away.”

He heard Tristan laugh at something he didn’t hear through the phone. “Where did you even go?”

“To a party, (figures) but some 9th year threw up in the punch bowl and two kids got in a fight over some stupid bet. It got boing. What about you? I thought you were with Sadie.”

“I was, but she had an appointment and I didn’t want to go so I just walked home instead, she lives like, half an hour away, so I didn’t, like, you know.” Majesty put his head on his lap, letting Martin stim by petting, effectively keeping him calm and awake.

Tristan hummed over the phone, but didn’t say anything. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down, seeing that Matthew was texting him.

“I’ll call you back Trish.” He waited for a response, then hung up.

American.

December 14, 8:24 PM

I just saw a this lady with a really big yellow

snake around her neck and it made me think

of you

Which part?

The snake or the lady?

Both

Anyway

What are you doing?

Sitting on my front doorstep.

Why

Tat sounds boring

That**

lost my key.

I believe I left it at Sadie’s, but I can’t remember.

Oh f

So you can’t get in?

How long have you been out there

No one else will let you in?

Actually just hold on

Martin looked at his phone confusedly for a moment, before he was suddenly receiving a call from the other.

“Ok, go on,” Matthew said from the other side when he pushed the accept button.

“Er… I lost my key, and no one else is home.” His teeth chattered as he spoke.

“That sucks man, I’m sorry. My mom says hi by the way, and asked if you tried the window or a back door.”

He nodded, then realized that Matthew coudn’t see him. “Oh, yeah uh, the back door was locked, and the windows, I locked them before I left. Preventable measure you know?” He said, laughing a shrill, awkward laugh.

“Right. Don’t want any cold air getting in.” Matthew coughed, then went on. “Uh, is someone like, coming to let you in?”

“Yeah, Tristan is coming, he’s gonna be home soon. Also, hello.”

“What?”

“You said that your mum said hi, so i’m responding to that.” He put his head on Majesty’s for a moment, exhaling. When he picked it up again, he saw that he accidentally clicked on the facetime button.

It was at least nice to see his face.

“Sis, you’re red.” Matthew said, looking at the camera.

Martin cocked his head to the side, then cursed as he dropped his phone. “Why thank you for the relay of information,” he snarked, but it was the first time he had looked at himself since he was with Sadie. That was what, an hour and a half ago? Two?

His eyes looked sunken in, skin pale except for the exessive spots of red on his cheeks, ears, and his eyes, but that was different, because he had been crying. Still. He wasn’t able to tell with his lips, mostly because the black lipstick he normally wore was still clinging to his lips. It was truly a look.

“Are you alright?” Martin gave him a look that signified that he was anything but. “Right, right, force of habit, sorry darlin’… Random question, why would you go out in that cold of weather, especially cause you’re crippled?”

Ah, he was wondering if that question would come up. “Well, it was around six degrees when I left, I didn’t expect the temperature to drop so suddenly.”

Matthew gave him a perturbed look. “Six? That’s freezing?!”

“Well, yeah? But it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t even freezing temperatures.” The other boy’s face didn’t change. It really wasn’t awful, but… oh wait. “Six degrees celsius Matthew, not fahrenheit. It would be about…” He thought about it for a minute, trying to ignore the sudden gust of wind. “Fourty… fouty-four degrees fahrenheit, I believe?”

“Oh, right, right, yeah. You know, y’all shame Americans for using fahrenheit, but it actually aduquateds for humans, not water. So.”

Well he was right about that, he was pretty sure. He couldn’t remember at the moment. “Hm.” He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to remove the heavy feeling from his eyelids.

“Woah hey, aren’t you not supposed to sleep? You might not wake up.”

“I wasn’t going to sleep. My eyes hurt.” He moved a trembling hand on top of Majesty’s head, once again back to petting. He blanked out for a moment, but he came back to Matthew talking, or yelling, through the phone.

“Darlin’- you need to wake up!” He looked at the phone, blinking eratically. He fell asleep? “Oh thank god,” he heard Matthew mutter through the phone. He looked up, realizing Majesty was walking around him, trying to wake him up too through nudges and pawing him. “You should probably stand up so you don’t fall asleep again.”

“Right.” He used Majesty as a balance to get to his feet, stepping around a couple times to try and get feeling back into his leg. Where the fuck was Tristan? He walked up and down the steps a few times, seeing that the tips of his fingers were going from a paper white to a more blue colour. He brought them to his face and wiped, feeling the skin that was marked with tears start to rip painfully.

Still shivering, he brought his phone up, asking Matthew something.

“Oh, yeah, it’s basically when-”

“What did I ask you?” He asked, looking at the phone.

The other boy looked at him, an indeterminable look in his eyes. “Uh, you asked about what happens-” The phone went black. He tried turnng it on again, to no avail, when he realized it died. His head was spinning, and he tried turing it on again, and again, until Majesty nudged him, and he had to stop tears from coming again.

He sat next to the door, the service dog standing next to him. He blinked harshly, feeling something burn in his chest again.

Majestly circled him again, going back to standing in the same spot. He rubbed him a couple times, but then had to rub his eyes.

“-rtin a dumbass yeah but he’ll be fine.” He woke up, feeling like he was being poked by a bunch of sewing needles. He blinked slowly, trying to sit up when he felt the blanket fall off.

Blanket? Martin moved his hand around, looking for Majesty. A coat of fur under his hand made him exhale in relief.

“Christ, Martin, you gave everyone here a fucking heart attack, you actually back with us this time?”

He muttered something, but it came out sounding weird, so he repeated it, with better results. “Can you give me a chance to see who everyone is before you start screaming.” He used Majesty to help him up, who jumped on the couch next to him to help him actually stay up.

Standing in front of him was Tristan, and two other guys that Martin recognized from school. David and Aaron, he’s pretty sure it was.

Doing a quick glance around, he noticed that A) His clothes had been changed. He was wearing a black sweater and sweat pants, B) He was in fact warm, seeing as there was a heater pointed at his direction, and C) his phone was no where to be found. He wondered how many hours he had been asleep.

Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but Martin interupted him. “Who changed my clothes?” This seemed to stop whatever the other boy was going to say.

“You did?”

Martin gave him an incredious look. “I feel like I would remember that.”

“Clearly not. What’s today Martin?”

He tried to remember the last conversation he had with someone over text. It was with… Matthew, who he really needed to call back, he realized. “Er… Wednesday, December 14?”

“It’s a few hours until friday. You’ve been asleep or on autopilot for like, the last 24 hours.” Oh. That didn’t feel right. That was even worse, actually. “Also, Dad and Oliver are on their way back. They were gonna come back before, but you were awake and like, warming up so I told them not to.”

Yeah, cool, whatever, he was still confused about the autopilot thing. “How often do I do that?”

Tristan raised a confused eyebrow, then said, “Oh, not that often, just right after like, messed up stuff happens. You kinda just, go through the mechanics of something.”

“When else have I done it?”

He pursed his lips. “Er, I’ll tell you later.” So he’d done it after what happened with Seth. He wouldn’t have figured it out at the moment if it weren’t for the thing his brother did with his mouth whenever his Mother’s husband was brought up.

“Right, ok.” He got up from the couch, noting as Tristan said something to his friends and waved as they quickly left. “Where’s my phone?”

“It’s where you left it.” He saw Martin’s face and added, “It’s on your bed.” Ah. He went to go walk to the stairs, but staggered on the second step. Majesty was already by hi side, so he leaned on him. “I can go get it Mars, or you can have Majesty get it, but Oliver said, and I quote ‘Your impulsevness and boyfriend can wait two seconds. Sit down Martin.’”

He sat back on the couch and sighed. “Phone, Majesty.” The dog perked up and ran up the stairs, coming back and dropping it on his lap. “Good boy,” he cooed, petting the top of his head.

Martin unlocked it (wincing at the date), partially watching as Tristan got up and walked out the room. He went to his last texts, and saw some that weren’t his. He assumed it was his brother who texted him, just saying that he was alive, and in the house.

You

December 15, 9:07 PM

Hey.

Is this a bad time?

Depends on who I’m talkin to

I hope I’m on the good spectrum then.

Darlin?

Your one and only.

I meant to put ‘the’ but ‘your’ works too.

I’m so glad you’re alright

Like, I thought I fucking lost you

You can’t kill me all that easily.

Right.

Well.

I’m actually in public rn and I can’t call and I’m sure there are some people you need to talk to

Yeah.

Sorry :(

Give me one hour and then i’m all yours

Take your time Love.

I sure have a lot of it.

I’m currenty on bedrest, so…

Aw :(

I won’t take up much more of your time then.

Call me when you can?

I miss you.

Of course darlin

And i miss you too

Martin closed out of the messenger app, only to get a little black heart sent to him. He loved that motherfucker.

He didn’t even bother texting his dad to see if the man was busy or not. He knew that if he did that it would be an immediate phone call, so, there wasn’t really a point.

He wouldn’t consider his father pushy or too suffocating. Martin loved and attention and praise he got from his father. His only concern was that Oliver would do some stupid shit (like father, like son) and burn himself out trying to care for everyone else.

He went to the contact and pushed the call button. It rang twice before both of his parents’ (fathers’?) asked about a million questions, all being variations of ‘What happened?’ and ‘Are you ok?’ and ‘We’re nearly home.’

“Yes, concerned adults, I’m perfectly fine. I just left my key at Sadie’s, I think. I should probably call and ask her-”

Tristan handed him a mug filled with overly sweetened hot tea, the only way he would drink it. “Don’t worry about it, her parents brought it back, along with like, a million other things because they felt so bad.”

Martin put it on speaker, just so they’d know who Martin was suddenly talking to. “I insisted on walking home, so it’s really my fault.” He took a sip of the tea when he heard the voices from the other end disprove this statement. “Also, define “a million.”

His brother shrugged. “I hope you like chocolate and tiny doll eyes.” He couldn’t help but feel like shit about it. He insisted he walk home, and he forgot his key, so he didn’t know why they blamed themselves so much. It was really on himself.

“I can hear your thinking Martin. You can’t blame yourself for this.” A door closed on the other side of the phone.

“I very well can, and I very well will.” Tristan sighed, but didn’t say much else about it. “Anyway.”

Over the phone, Nick asked: “Did you try calling a locksmith?” Martin felt his chest tighten up at the question. Majesty was immedietly at his side, putting his head on his lap. The other boy took notice and took the mug from his grip, and grabbed his hand.

He was going to say somehing, but jumped when the front door was unlocked and opened. Tristan hung up the phone, squeezing his hand at the same time.

Oliver and Nick walked in, not even bothering to hide their relief, until they noticed the condition that the other three were in, relief turning into concern.

“Hey baby,” Oliver said, coming and putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Martin exhaled, feeling better that his father was back with him. “Uh,” he laughed awkwardly, another shrill laugh. He opened his mouth, then closed it, not being able to pinpoint a good response, so he just shrugged and crossed his arms.

Tristan let go of his hand pretty quickly, instead going over to talk to his dad. Oliver put himself where Tristan was, giving his son an indetrminable smile.

He held out his arms, a silent invitation for a familiar embrace. Martin crawled over, filling the space and resting his head on the crease of his father’s neck. He felt a hand soothingly run up and down his back, reassurances being whispered in his ear.

“So you wanna rely on how you nearly died again..?” Well he won’t pass on having good attention on him.

Oliver whispered, “We can talk later baby.” To which he nodded, breaking away from the much needed hug.

Later, when he got some time alone, where Nick was cooking and the other two were in the parlor, he was upstairs, going back to the familiar contact.

You

December 15, 10:43 PM

Attachment: One image

👁👁?

It’s in german

I’m fully aware.

Well I can’t google translate cause it’s a picture

Once again, I am fully aware love :).

😾😾

Rude

I will be having someone translate that later so don’t act all smug

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Hm. Call me

Alright.

“Hey darlin’,” the voice said over the phone.

#noncon mention #noncon tw #depersonalization #TW child abuse #hypothermia #paranoia #anxitey #service dog #whump #wac2020 #whumper #whumpee #whumperflies #do it for the girls and the gays thats it #caretaker #multiple caretakers

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starringemiliaclarke · 5 years ago

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Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End

Clarke, who now stars in Chekhov’s The Seagull, tells Louis Wise that the HBO fantasy series made her feel like a ‘small cog in a big machine’

Gallery Links:

PHOTOSHOOTS & OUTTAKES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times

MAGAZINES > 2020 > 2020 The Sunday Times Culture Magazine – March 15

The Times: Emilia Clarke says she views herself primarily as a stage actress, which is a little weird when you consider that she has only appeared in one play professionally before, and it was an absolute turkey. Or, as the 33-year-old star of Game of Thrones says, in her jolly British way, it was “terrible, awful, awful! Bad! That was a bad show!” The piece was Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Broadway in 2013, and it’s safe to say Clarke’s Holly Golightly did not enchant. “I’ll never forget, someone said to me after press night the only thing they liked was the cat.”

If Clarke relays this with surprising good humour, this is part temperament, part experience. For one thing, in person she is relentlessly chipper and pukka. Whereas on HBO’s mega-fantasy series Game of Thrones, she grew in stature as Daenerys Targaryen, a still, dignified stateswoman (until that end), in real life she is a goofy motormouth chatterbox, always eager to catch the joke at her expense. And she is no stranger to what we shall politely call “the mixed review”. She has known some drubbings, whether for that Broadway show, or films such as Last Christmas or Terminator Genisys, or indeed the final series of GoT, which — euphemism alert! — didn’t quite turn out the way everybody wanted.

Luckily she never reads reviews. “Because if it’s really, really good, someone will tell you. And if it’s really, really bad — some f***** will tell you.”

We are meeting today, though, at a rehearsal space in south London, because she is chucking herself back into the fray. For only her second stage appearance, Clarke is going straight into the West End, in Chekhov’s The Seagull, and taking on the prestigious role of Nina. If she is nervous, she’s handling it in the usual way, which is to say with huge blasts of good cheer.

Two clichés about meeting starsis that they are a) smaller than you thought, but b) their features are stronger than expected. Both are true of Clarke. She is tiny, proper Kylie-tiny, nicely decked out in a gauzy beige-cream knit, some fashionably frayed jeans and pointy, well-worn white cowboy boots. Yet her eyes and grin look extra big: if she stays still, she’s a dainty doll, but as soon as she moves it’s Looney Tunes. To be clear, she never stays still.

This energy feels helpful, as we have a lot to pack in. After all, Clarke’s past decade has been particularly wild. Not only did she rocket suddenly to fame in GoT (until then, her only screen credit was an episode of Doctors), she also lost her father to cancer in 2016 and, as she revealed in 2019, had suffered a sequence of brain haemorrhages in her early twenties, just as the madness of GoT was kicking off.

In private, she experienced various exhausting surgeries at the same time as becoming one of pop culture’s favourite mascots, scrutinised relentlessly on a moral, artistic and very physical level. She recalls being in hospital recovering from an operation and picking up a newspaper. “I was, like, ‘I’m going to see if I can read it,’” she says. “And I was, like, ‘Oh my God, there’s a review of the show. And, oh God, they are just talking about how fat my arse is.’”(Which is the last review she read.)

All of which brings us to the elephant, or dragon, in the room. Over seven seasons, Daenerys, aka Khaleesi, Mother of Dragons, had one hell of an arc, going from weak dynastic pawnto all-conquering queen, a kind of Catherine the Great with sub-Barbarella hair. And then, oops! Daenerys, thrilled at almost achieving her goal of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, lost the plot, turned into a psychotic dead-eyed tyrant, massacring a whole city and essentially going the full Pol Pot. She was then abruptly bumped off by her lover-cum-nephew, Jon Snow, and a worldwide fanbase stopped and went: what?

For Clarke, it had been a hard secret to keep — she had known the ending long in advance. She admits she is still processing it all.

“When the show did end, it was like coming out of a bunker. Everything felt really strange. Then obviously for it to have the backlash it did …” Did she expect it? She slows down, a rare occurrence. “I knew how I felt when I first read it, and I tried, at every turn, not to consider too much what other people might say, but I did always consider what the fans might think — because we did it for them, and they were the ones who made us successful, so … it’s just polite, isn’t it?”

It’s clear Clarke is caught between her close friendship with the series’ creators, David Benioff and DB Weiss, and her deep awareness of what most fans wanted. In fact, she first suggests that it’s the news wot done it.

“I do think that the global temperature, how much horrific news there is consistently, goes a way to explain the enormity of the fans’ outrage,” she argues. “Because people are going, finally, here’s something I can actually see and understand and get some control back over �� and then when that turns, and you don’t like what they’ve done …”

Hmm. It’s a nice theory, but with Daenerys we were just denied a happy ending, right? She nods quietly. “Yeah.” So did not getting that also make her sad? She tries to explain that “as an actor” it was actually all “a gift”, but eventually the tornado of diplomacy peters out. “Yeah, I felt for her. I really felt for her. And yeah, was I annoyed that Jon Snow didn’t have to deal with something?” She lets us out an exasperated laugh. “He got away with murder — literally.”

She also eventually agrees with the critique that the final season condensed far too much in far too little time (“We could have spun it out for a little longer”) and that it could simply have had more dialogue. “It was all about the set pieces,” she agrees. “I think the sensational nature of the show was, possibly, given a huge amount of airtime because that’s what makes sense.”

Is she at least happy it ended when it did? “I mean, ‘happy’ is a funny word. It’s a strong word. Again, the show was so big. I was a small cog in a very, very, very big machine …”

What she means, though, is that she actually liked this. The show provided a routine, a family, something to fall back on every year; it also gave her experience. “I very much feel my career is something that’s happened to me, as opposed to the other way around,” she says. But she can see that being a cog has its limits, as doesforever having to cater to fans and, yes, to the press. “Doing a show so many people had opinions about doesn’t serve your creativity on any level.”

All of which explains why she is doing this Seagull with Jamie Lloyd, the director who just landed raves for his Cyrano with James McAvoy. And, yes, although she knows it’s “hilarious”, she somehow does “identify closer with theatre”. This is mostly to do with her dad, who was a theatre engineer; her mother is a vice-president in marketing for a management consultancy firm. Clarke and her brother had an idyllic-sounding childhood in Oxfordshire. Inspired by her father’s job, she always wanted to be an actress, apparently from the age of three. “I think of him whenever I’m walking through the West End,” she says. “My dad is everywhere in the theatre, 100%.”

She says this happily; I get the impression she hasn’t finished grieving, she’s just moved on to a better, celebratory phase. How would he feel about her playing Nina? “I think he would be nervous for me,” she says with a chuckle. It is, she knows, a big role: Nina, the aspiring actress whose dreams of fame are dashed, but who plugs away regardless. “I was never your Nina at drama school, that’s for sure,” says Clarke. “I wasn’t really a favourite [there], at all.”

Instead, she got parts like Jewish grannies, or “a down-and-out, pissed-off, washed-up prostitute”. But did she always want to be Nina or Juliet? “Well, of course I did. Oh my God, yeah. So I’m in no doubt there’s still some of that in me where I’m like: ‘Oh my God, guys, check it out! Finally she got there.’”

Clarke does like to cast herself as an underdog, although, thankfully, she does seem mostly to be aware that she is coming from a place of privilege. By the end of GoT she was reportedly paid $500,000 an episode. Is money a concern any more? “I am careful,” she says. “I’m a lot more careful now than I was.” She has a lovely house in north London with a bar in the garden. She can pick jobs for their artistic content first and foremost (“I want to work with an auteur!”). So yes, she knows she has it good, which is why she waited several years before revealing her brain trauma.

“I didn’t want to turn it into this celebrity sob story. I didn’t want people’s pity or ‘Oh, poor little rich girl, your successful life ain’t good enough?’” She is now happy she did it. “It’s done a huge amount of healing for me, being able to open up about it.” Her health status is “beautiful” now. “I was match-fit six weeks after the second surgery [in 2013],” she clarifies. “But mentally …”

On the other end of the spectrum, her fame has made something else hard: dating. “I am single right now …” She says with a smile. “Dating in this industry is interesting. I have a lot of funny anecdotes, a lot of stuff I can say at a fun dinner.” She was last seen in 2018 with a film director, and before that she was linked to Seth MacFarlane and James Franco. Does she mostly date fellow actors, because that’s how the industry works? “I was, and now I’m not,” she says — more smiles.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I’ve completely sworn off them, but I do think actor relationships that are successful are few and far between, and you have to have a ton of trust.” Now and then her friends tell her to try Raya, the dating app that is supposedly for more exclusive celeb types. When she looks at it, though, “it’s just models. What am I going to do there?”

In short, everything about Clarke’s life is still monumentally weird, but she is doing a good job of pretending it’s not. After the play, she has “any one of nine projects that could go at the end of this year, and I have no idea which one will win”. A lot, she announces, are “dark”. Would she do fantasy again? “I think, if I did, it would be me having a giggle,” she says. I take this to mean her doing a send-up, a kind of Extras take on GoT, but no: “I want to do something absolutely stupid and silly, like, you know, The Avengers or whatever. Something where I got to have a giggle with mates.”

I’ve never thought of the Marvel mega-franchise as a downtime laff with pals, but that’s the level Clarke is operating on. I suppose it’s a pretty good happy ending.

The Seagull, Playhouse, London WC2, until May 30

Press: Emilia Clarke interview: the Game of Thrones star on leaving Westeros behind to tackle the West End was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

#emilia clarke #game of thrones #game of thrones cast #GOT cast #daenerys targaryen #me before you #terminator

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fierycosmos · 6 years ago

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YGO Laurel: Goodbyes and Hellos

(so it’s not a drabble, but features my YGO oc Laurel writing goodbye letter and some hello letters to people in her life. and a little background: she’s writing to her dad who’s in prison for abusing and kidnapping her, and her mom’s dead but she’s writing a cathartic letter to her anyway, and Adam is a friend she stayed with before moving to Domino City, and Fein is her best friend from childhood she had to say goodbye to when she ran away from home -- SORRY THAT’S A LOT BUT ENJOY) I rip the failed letter to shreds, again. I toss it with the rest of my mistakes into the trash. I lay back into my revolving chair roughly and my hair scatters across my face. I exhale through my nose and I watch as a strand floats lifelessly and then plops back down onto my face. Annoyed, I collapse my elbows onto my desk and rub my face with my shaky hands. Why can’t I write this God-forsaken letter? I’ve been able to write the others, and I even delivered! Even the ones to Seto and Mokuba I placed on their beds. But you, you like to mock me don’t you? I grab another card from my desk and begin to scribble out my thoughts once more. *** Lawrence Turner, Why? No, better question is how? How could you ever think you could get away with this? You won’t be able to hurt anyone in there. Didn’t you realize before this started? Before the drinking and the gambling and the Cuban cigars, that you would get caught? I can’t begin to count the scars on my body from smashed beer bottles to concussions that were never treated. And those bloody turtlenecks. I hate turtlenecks; and yet that’s all I could wear for two years! Don’t ever talk to me again. I hate you. I really hate you. __________________ Seto, I’m sorry. That’s the first thing that comes to mind. I know you won’t accept that. You probably won’t accept it or you will hate the lack of “better language in expressing my sorrow.” I don’t even know if you will read this. I understand though, I really do, but it hurts though to know you may never forgive me. I had my reasons. You still may deny that my choice to lie to you was reasonable, but I had to protect myself; I had to protect you. And Mokuba. Now don’t let that stupid ego of yours get in the way! To my surprise, I started to care for you both; I’ll admit that much. The more involved I got, the more I wanted to tell you my story. My insides were going to explode if I didn’t tell you soon; I guess that’s why I am writing this letter. To put it succinctly, we both have daddy issues. While yours was a pompous asshole with too much money, mine was an abusive alcoholic. Oh, and did I mention he was a wrestler back in the day? That’s why I acted so tough and wanted to work out. I had to be ready if I ever saw him again. That’s also how I got the scar on my left shoulder that you always asked about; it was a broken beer bottle. Happy? And then there’s the mom piece: she died not long after Luka was born. He was two and I was nine. Terminal cancer; there was nothing the doctors could do. That’s when dad’s drinking got out of control, and he got back into the ring. Once that started, there were lots of late nights and lots of brown-stained t-shirts. And so I ran and took little seven-year-old Luka with me. I was smart enough to know I couldn’t take care of another human being at my age, so I left him with Grandma Lacey. She stopped talking to my dad after mom died. And you know Adam. I met him along the way. He actually caught me when I tried stealing some food from his pub. It was a bad time in my life; I was a desperate and dirty fifteen-year-old. He said I reminded him of how he acted when he was my age and took me in. I slowly began telling my life story to him and became a part of his family. But once again I had to leave. Lawrence was getting too close to me and it was heartbreaking to leave them. Then I ran into your brother and my perspective on life changed. You and Michael stopped me from dwelling on my past. Please don’t try and track me down. I need to stay away to keep you and Mokuba from meddling where you don’t belong, and in circumstances you don’t understand. I’m probably not your top priority; I was more of a bother than anything I bet. I’ll find a way to pay you back. For all the clothes, for living in your house, even when I was using up all the hot water. I don’t think I need to go on; you’re probably enjoying it too much. The point is, you’ve done a lot for me over this past year and I feel the need to repay you for your generosity I continue to feel unworthy of. Before I end this poor excuse for a letter, I’d like to make a deal with you. I want you to let people into your life when I’m gone. I know that may sound nearly impossible for you to do, but I believe that it will help you be less of a grump. And don’t deny it – you’re a grump. Get out there, have a party or a fundraiser or a fancy gala or whatever. Get a girlfriend and treat her nicely. Go out to fancy dinners and see movies. Also maybe get a dog, to teach Mokuba some more responsibility. And yes, naked dogs are out of the question: those things are disturbing. So yes, you’ll have to put up with some new fuzzy furniture. And what will my part be in this deal you ask? Well, if you wish, you’ll never have to see me again. If not, if you do manage to find me (which I still recommend you don’t try to do), I’ll answer any, if not all, of your pestering questions. Deal? Sincerely, Laurel Annalise Turner __________________ Dear Mokuba, You know I love you, right? You’re one of the sweetest human beings I’ve ever met. I had a hard life until I ran into you and you made everything in life seem worth living for. There’s so much I would love to tell you but I can’t get the words out. I don’t think you’ll want to read a novel about my life. I could go on forever in this letter but I’m kind of in a rush. To put it simply, you and Seto became the most important part of my new life. You two made me happy and almost helped me forget about all the hardships and people I had lost in the past, including my mother. She died years ago, but I never got over it. Then I lost my father, but he didn’t die. I lost him as a person I could turn to for help, someone who I could rely on for support. He turned on my brother Luka and me. I had to grow up quickly and become the one people, like my brother, could lean on. I wish you could meet Luka, my baby brother. He’s around your age. Maybe someday you will, if Seth ever lets you see me again. Don’t be mad at Seto, okay? He has every right to be mad at me, and you can’t blame him for being thickheaded. I want you to also be on your best behavior. No harassing your brother! He’s a very busy man and you’re heading off to middle school soon and you’ll need all the free time to STUDY. Don’t forget about me, all right? I’ll swing by some time; it’ll be our little secret. ☺ Love, Laurel __________________ To the Unworthy Human Being, To my Asshole of a Father, Hey douchebag, how’s it feel to rot in jail? That’s right, you’ll have to make due with hanging out with your sorry self and other good for nothing bastards just like you. Hell I don’t even think you deserve to live, and that’s coming from your daughter. You’ve done nothing but shame the Turner name, I’m thinking of changing it. I don’t even know why I started this. Say hi to your loser friends for me. __________________ Fein Wilson 25 Park Ave. Dear Fein, Long time no talk or long time no write. It’s been, what, seven years? Don’t be mad at me, okay? I just want to tell you that I’ll be heading back home soon. I’ve been gone for some time and I feel I should visit and reconnect with my roots, you know? You were the first person that came to mind. I’m sorry I never stayed in touch while I was gone. A lot has happened to me since I left our small little suburban bubble. The world outside is so strangely wonderful and different. I should show you around one of these days. I’d like to see you. Like I said, I have a lot to explain. Hope you appreciate the postcard. It’s funny, when I first saw it I immediately thought of us. Almost identical to the last picture we took together. We should go to the beach again, dig up some hermit crabs and stare at cute lifeguards. It’ll be good to act normal for a change. Again, I’ll explain that to you in person. Miss you, Laurel T. __________________ Adam and Meredith Jameson 21 West 52nd Street Apartment 2A Dear Adam, Surprised? I’m not going to forget about you any time soon. How’s that wonderful wife of yours? Tell Meredith I said hi. Last time I saw her she was a swollen planet. Did you name your newborn after me ☺? I bet the bar’s a mess without my leadership. The bartenders need to get better at their mixers. They were sloppy last time I was there. I would suggest getting rid of that blonde bimbo. But I’m not writing to insult your judgment, because you gave me a chance out of the blue. I just thought I should check in. A lot’s happened since my dad found out where I was. Sorry for the mess on the roof by the way, hope there wasn’t too much blood. I didn’t think he would find me while staying with you. I’m just glad all you saw of him was his mug shot on TV. Thanks for visiting me in the hospital by the way. I was out of the coma a few days after you visited. I never got to thank you for the roses. Meredith’s idea, I’m guessing? You know the more I try to joke about my dad finding me the harder it is for me to write this all down. I still have nightmares of that night on the bar roof every so often. Thankfully I’m not fighting my demons alone, so please don’t lecture me about going about my “recovery” on my own. You don’t need to worry about me anymore; you’re a father now and will have your own child to stress over. I just wanted to let you know that I’m moving past “the incident” (if that’s what I can call it – apocalypse sounds a bit too strong) and that I can’t thank you enough for your support, and for reuniting me with my old and new family. Thank you for everything. I’ll stop by soon. Best, Lor __________________ Hey Dad, People keep trying to stop me from writing this, but someone told me it’s best to get things down on paper to help move on. But one question keeps running through my head: how could I ever forgive you? Yet, somehow I feel like it’s not your fault. Some unknown force took you away from me and switched you for some demonic spirit, maybe to test me? Either way I feel the alone time you’ll have will hopefully be enlightening and help you be happy and accept the decisions you made. Maybe then I can see you again. __________________ Dear Mom, Hi. Hey, mom. How’s heaven? I miss you. So do Luka and grandma, and I know dad does too. I hope you understand why I can’t talk to him (you weren’t there when the harassment began, thankfully). I don’t even think you could have done anything. It would have happened eventually even if you had never left us. Though having you to hug again would be nice. I’m starting to forget some things; maybe it’s the head trauma from being slammed into walls and banging my head on tables. Dad always had a good arm. I buy your favorite perfume every so often, just to remember your smell. I still have the necklace you used to wear. The chain broke a year ago and so I attached it to an old charm bracelet I made in school. It stands out on the cheap rusted metal and I stroke it every so often, thinking how you would touch it when thinking of your father. I’m playing with it right now as I wonder what to write. I know, who ever thought I’d be so cheesy? I wish you could meet my new family. Seth and Michael mean the world to me. They’ve done more for me than I could ever give back to them. You always knew exactly what to say to make everything all right – I wish I had inherited that from you. I can’t seem to tell them exactly what’s on my mind. Seto makes me so flustered and he pisses me off (sorry, mom, I know you never liked rude language). But, I couldn’t picture my life without him now. I wonder if you’d approve. I have to admit he can be quite the charmer. But that’s not the point. You know I’m not very good with romance; it never made sense to me and I don’t think it ever will. I don’t know the secret behind a successful relationship. I remember Fein always talking about her celebrity crush of the week, but that was about it. I could really use your help right about now. Only Mokuba gets to see how I can care for someone. He’s just like Luka; it’s unbelievable. It’s like I got another chance at being a sister. Anyway, I hope you’re having a nice relaxing time up there. I’ll love you always, Laurel __________________ Father, I don’t even know why I started this. People say it’s best to get things off your chest to officially move on. I hate you. I really hate you. I’ll never forgive you. You hurt me, and worse, you threated Luka. How could I ever forgive you for that? Don’t bother writing back. Besides, I’m changing my name legally. You don’t deserve to know my new name. All you need to know is that I’m moving on to bigger and better things, and you’re not invited. L. *** I seal the envelope. Finally. I gently lift it up from the table and brush the seal, trying to calm down slightly. I can feel as though a heavy burden is being lifted off my shoulders. However, I can’t begin to relax or feel better. I grab my bags near the side of my desk, pocket the letter, and slowly head to the door. I look back at the room I called my own for the past year and sadly switch the light off. Once I close the door behind me, I lean against it seeking some sort of comfort. I am going to miss this old house. “Goodbye Seto. Goodbye Mokuba,” I whisper to myself as I try to hold back tears threatening to fall. As I head down the long hallway, I wonder where I will head next.

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hi - so i hope you liked this, i wrote it for an english creative writing class and i really enjoyed writing it back in the day

let me know your thoughts <3

also since i wrote it for a class, there might be instances where seto’s name appears as “seto” and mokuba’s as “michael” -- i changed them so not everyone would know i was a weeboo lol

#yugioh #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #original character #OC #letters #writing #fiction #drabble

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evilneo · 2 years ago

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The podcast is called Lost Terminal, and I was able to find it on Spotify. It's a series of broadcasts from a lonely AI on a space shuttle who wants to help his robot friends and learn about Earth. He talks about his super computer struggles in a way that feels so relatable to me in my silly human body. It's also a lot easier to listen to this podcast then some of the others I've tried because the episodes are short and Seth pauses between thoughts and after he makes an important comment so I can process what it is he said!

OH NICE! ill check it out!!!! loooooove a funny little AI.... :)

#asks #merklins

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ernmark · 7 years ago

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Oh man, that Peter has amnesia au is killing me slowly in the best way. Any chance we could get more?

I take it you guys enjoyed that one, then?

Part 1 | Part 2

Peter stares at the door long after it slams in his face, clutching the envelope like a lifeline.

This shouldn’t bother him. It might be slightly embarrassing, perhaps, but it shouldn’t bother him. It shouldn’t matter.

His chest shouldn’t splinter when he hears a broken sob through the thin walls.

It’s jut a con, after all, if one that went sour a little too quickly. He got what he needed, and now he can move on. He doesn’t need to linger on Mars for long– a few quick heists, and then he can be on his way. The faster he gets to work the faster he can leave.

No matter how often he tells himself that, he can’t seem to make himself listen, even when he leaves the apartment building behind him.

Instead he wanders aimlessly through the streets of Hyperion City, lost in thoughts that keep drifting back to Juno Steel. It was wrong what he did to the lady, of course, but when has that ever stopped him before? When has he ever spared a second thought for such trite niceties? Why should Juno Steel be any different from anyone who’s come before?

Hours pass in contemplation, until he’s thoroughly walked off the breakfast Juno made him (did he already suspect, when he put that meal together? Or did he prepare a breakfast with the hope of sharing more in the near future? Peter isn’t sure which is worse). His stomach is starting to growl, and so he follows his feet down an out-of-the-way avenue. He doesn’t even know why he’s going there– this is a warehouse district, not any place that might serve food. And yet there it is, nestled between a truck rental and a storage facility: a Brahmese cafe.

It’s an odd stroke of luck– perhaps he smelled it without noticing?– even moreso when he finds that they actually make quite excellent plumb rolls. It’s always a chore to find a place that can make them properly.

It’s the taste of home that does it. He put Brahma behind him, and he can do the same for Juno Steel. And so, emboldened, he takes out the envelope and finally takes a look.

And then stops chewing.

That can’t be right. Because the date Juno wrote down is next week. Peter would assume that they’re merely coming up on the anniversary of the event, if Juno hadn’t included the year. This year.

Is this part of Juno’s fixation? Is he really so deranged that he got the year wrong? Though he isn’t– no matter how much Peter wants to believe that Juno’s some kind of stalker, he knows beter. Could it be some kind of code, then? A reference to something else? A warning?

Peter glances at the calendar on his comms to see if it corresponds with something– but the year is off on his comms, too.

He rises from his chair and grabs a neighborhood newspaper from the front of the store. It’s there, too: the wrong year. Perhaps Mars is off– some kind of overzealous tribute to Old American Daylight Savings Time?

Or perhaps it’s more simple than that: he’s wrong.

Yes. That must be it. He must just have the year wrong. Maybe he’s been travelling so long that his internal calendar is off. Yes. It’s just the travel getting to him. He’s probably been writing down the wrong date for ages. He does a quick internet search for his last heist, just to recalibrate his expectations– but it’s oddly difficult to find. He has to do some digging before he finds the headlines, buried under far too much old news. It was an excellent heist– it should have made headlines. It should have shocked the archeological community for weeks, at least.

And then he finds the headlines, like a fossil under too much sand: ancient history.

The year on the article is precisely the year he thought it was: last year. It’s a year old. But that can’t be right. He pulled that heist days ago.

But a second news feed corroborates the story, and then a third, and a fourth. And then, as all news streams will, they tire of the story and move on to something more interesting. And while that happened, he was counting his money from a newly-fenced golden record on his way to Mars. The journey should have taken a little more than twenty-six hours, perhaps another one or two if he accounted for security and delays.

Somewhere in the course of that flight, he lost a year.

Peter checks the date on his comms again, almost compulsively. It’s irrational, he knows– the only time he’s losing is the handful of hours he spends asleep, though the dreams are fitful and they don’t do anything to calm his fraying nerves.

He’s searched for every database, every system, every social media stream, and all of them come up empty. Of course, if he was easy to find he would be long dead by now. And yet there has to be some trace, somewhere. But there’s nothing. No matter how he looks or where he turns, there’s nothing. He might as well not have existed at all, and that frightens him in an entirely new way.

Frantic and thorough, he checks every lead, cross-references every alias, until he’s exhausted every option.

All but one.

And so he pockets his comms and takes a deep breath, and he opens the door of the Juno Steel Detective Agency.

The secretary greets him with a throaty giggle. “Hello again, Agent Glaaaaaaass.”

He doesn’t recognize the name, and so he has no persona to attach it to, but he makes do with what he can. She is charmed, and so he is charming.

He sweeps into a bow to hide his glance at her name plate. “My dear Rita, we meet again.”

It’s the right tactic, judging by the way she giggles. “Are ya here to see the boss?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Is he available?”

“He says he ain’t, but you go ahead. He could use a good case to cheer him up.”

Peter raises his eyebrows into a caricature of concern. “Is he alright?”

“Sometimes he just gets like this,” she says. “But it’s been pretty bad lately. I think maybe somethin’ happened, but don’t try and ask about it. That just makes him mad.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

She taps something into her keyboard and the door slides open to reveal a glowering Juno Steel. To be perfectly honest, Peter’s surprised to find the detective at his desk. Given how things ended last time they met, he half expected Juno to try climbing out of his window to avoid this conversation.

But Juno is past trying to run. His bionic eye flashes dangerously. “I told you to get the fuck away from me.”

Peter steps closer, and the door slides shut behind him. “Juno, I know you’re upset–”

“This conversation is over. You have ten seconds to turn around and walk back out that door, or I’m throwing you out the window.”

“Juno–”

“Five seconds.”

This isn’t working. So Peter tries something different. “Four years ago, I stole the collected notebooks of Jasmina Seth Hill from a museum on Perseii Four. The curator of the exhibit was Ruslan Clemens Lawerenz, and their assistant was Eiríkr Barker, who was smuggling weapons to the resistance. On the night I went to steal the notebooks, the head of security was Éimhín Lefèvre, and the other members of her shift were Fionnghuala Kozlowski, Bearach Langdon, Den Phoebe Vigo, and Antonina Chaves, and every sixteen minutes they went on their rounds in two pairs while one remained at the security terminal. The passcodes I used to get in were, in order, Alkatraz, 4869974351, and password1234. The floor plan–”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Juno demands– and probably for the best, because all of that was a mouthful.

“If I’d forgotten the slightest detail, my life would have been over,” Peter says firmly. “My life and my livelihood depend on my memory.”

“And you were so busy keeping track of the important stuff to bother remembering me.” He’s already reaching for the panel at the door, and a chill goes down Peter’s spine. For an irrational moment, he’s certain that if Juno shuts that door between them, he’ll never see the detective again.

“You’re not all I forgot, Juno,” he blurts out. “I’m missing time.”

“Try putting down the bottle. That’s what they tell me.”

Juno isn’t even looking at him anymore, and it sends a flare of desperation through his blood. “Dammit, Juno, something happened to me, and you’re my only hope of finding out what it was. I need your help.”

For half an instant, that seems to get through to him– but only for that half an instant. Just as quickly, Juno’s resolve hardens. “Not my problem.”

“I’ll pay you.”

Juno’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want your money.”

Of course not, not when Juno can afford a bionic eye. But Peter is desperate. If Juno walks away from him now, he might never get another chance to find out what happened. So he tries again: “It’ll make us even.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Juno says. The sudden stiffness in his spine says otherwise.

“For whatever it is you did to me. That thing you’ve been blaming yourself for all this time. Do this for me, and we’re even.”

It’s a gamble, and Peter knows it. The muscles tighten in Juno’s arms; his hands ball into fists. Push too hard, and Peter will be walking out of here with a concussion. “You said you forgave me for that.”

“But that isn’t enough for you, is it?” Peter presses. “Not when I don’t remember what I forgave you for.”

“Because you were just telling me what I wanted to hear.”

“You’ve already made your apologies, Juno. Perhaps this will give you closure.”

Juno grunts. “Who needs closure when you have scotch?” He pauses, waiting for a reply.

Peter isn’t sure exactly what he’s expecting-- a laugh at his sad little joke? Further protests? Begging? A desperate confession of love that they both know is a lie?

Peter stands his ground, utterly silent, as the seconds tick away between them. Whatever it is Juno’s after, he can’t give it to him.

Finally Juno sighs. “Goddammit. Fine.” He reaches into his desk, and for a moment, Peter expects to see him pull out a bottle. Instead it’s a notebook and a pen. “Sit down, Nureyev. I’m taking your case.”

#the penumbra podcast #briwhosaysni #namidoesnothing #fatalebutch #pocketpluto #fanfiction #writing prompt

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thepeoplesbasics · 3 years ago

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youtube

THE BASIC BRIEF – NOVEMBER 5TH, 2021

In this Basic Brief, we highlight the results from election day 2021, FEC allowing foreign donations for referendum campaigns, and more. Also linked is all the content from The People’s Basics this week.

Skyline Richmond Virginia by RVA PhotoDude

YOUNGKIN DEFEATS MCAULIFFE IN VIRGINIA GOVERNOR’S RACE

By Kathryn Watson, Caroline Linton, and Melissa Quinn – CBS November 4th, 2021

“Republicans in Washington exulted in Republican Glenn Youngkin’s victory in the Virginia governor’s race Tuesday over former Governor Terry McAuliffe and the surprisingly close race in New Jersey, which CBS News projected late Wednesday as a win for incumbent Governor Phil Murphy.”

EXIT POLLS FROM VIRGINIA RACE

By Ariel Edwards-Levy – CNN November 3rd, 2021

“Republican and Democratic voters overwhelmingly supported their parties’ candidates in the gubernatorial race between Democrat Terry McAuliffe and Republican Glenn Youngkin, according to the results of CNN’s Virginia exit poll, with independents breaking in favor of Youngkin, who CNN projected would clinch the win.”

Atlantic Boardwalk by Dougtone

PHIL MURPHY SCRAPS BY IN NEW JERSEY GOVERNOR’S RACE

By Nancy Solomon – NPR November 3rd, 2021

“The extremely tight race was perhaps the biggest surprise out of Tuesday’s elections. For months, polls have shown that Democratic Gov. Phil Murphy had a comfortable lead — as much as 11 points according to a Monmouth University poll released last week — over Ciattarelli.”

“Piggy Bank” by 401(K) 2013 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

FEC ALLOWS FOREIGN MONEY IN U.S. REFERENDUM CAMPAIGNS

By Lachlan Markay – Axios November 2nd, 2021

“The Federal Election Commission has ruled foreign donors can finance U.S. referendum campaigns, opening the door to foreign spending on fights over high-profile policy issues, Axios has learned.”

Buffalo NY by Daquella Manera

BYRON BROWN WINS BUFFALO MAYORAL RACE OVER INDIA WALTON

By Gregory Krieg – CNN November 3rd, 2021

“Buffalo Mayor Byron Brown declared victory Tuesday night in his write-in campaign for a fifth term. Brown lost the Democratic primary earlier this year to Democratic Socialist India Walton.”

Terminal Tower- Cleveland OH – by Lisa C Chamberlain

JUSTIN BIBB WINS CLEVELAND MAYORAL ELECTION IN DOMINATING FASHION

By Seth A Richardson, Kaylee Remington, and Olivia Mitchell – Cleveland.com November 2nd, 2021

“After stunning the Cleveland political establishment in the primary, nonprofit executive Justin Bibb will be the city’s next mayor following a successful general election Tuesday night.”

ETHIOPIA-TIGRAY CONFLICT: U.N. CITES POSSIBLE WAR CRIMES

By Scott Neuman – NPR November 3rd, 2021

“All sides in the conflict in Ethiopia’s northern Tigray region have committed atrocities that may amount to war crimes – including summary executions, torture and rape, according to a new report released by the United Nations.”

Image by memyselfaneye from Pixabay

FACEBOOK WHISTLEBLOWER: MARK ZUCKERBERG SHOULD STEP DOWN AS CEO

By Clare Duffy – CNN November 1st, 2021

“Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen said Monday she believes the company would be ‘stronger’ if founder Mark Zuckerberg stepped down as chief executive.”

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA BARS FACULTY FROM TESTIFYING AGAINST LAW SIGNED BY DESANTIS

By Andrew Jeong – The Washington Post October 30th, 2021

“The University of Florida barred three faculty members from testifying for plaintiffs in a lawsuit challenging a voting-restrictions law enthusiastically embraced by Gov. Ron DeSantis (R), which activists say makes it harder for racial minorities to vote. The school’s move raises sharp concerns about academic freedom and free speech in the state.

Image by ELG21 from Pixabay

WHAT THE U.S. CAN LEARN FROM THE U.K. ABOUT WIND POWER

By Petra Cahill – NBC News November 4th, 2021

“As President Joe Biden’s administration puts its muscle behind wind power with plans to develop large-scale wind farms along the entire United States coastline, the administration can look at how the windiest nation in Europe is transforming its energy grid for an example of how to proceed.”

THE PEOPLE’S PERSPECTIVE

We asked The People’s Basics Community what their thoughts were after election night. Here’s what they had to say:

The Democrats need to actually govern well in order to win. In the fallout of failure, Republicans will usually win. Moderate Dems especially need to look long and hard at the mix of compromises and focuses they choose to make. – @chadbenz

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Somebody needs to explain to the Democratic Party that a bad candidate is a weight we all can’t carry. Next, explain that the Democratic Party is left. Been left since the post-depression era. Acting Republican gets Republicans elected. Finally, if you campaign on something, PASS IT. – @UrsaMajor2820

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Given the ineffectiveness of the Democrats, this isn’t a surprising result. We can’t keep banking on “business as usual” to move us forward and the Democrats must have a strategy and plan that isn’t an opposition stance. Opposing the GOP will not win consistently going forward. – @gowimachine

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When both parties have failed to deliver on working-class economic policy even when polls indicate it is the top desire for voters, politics becomes perpetually partisan based on constantly co-opted culture wars and social movements that we have consistently seen since the 70s. – @CalvinCullen18

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“Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” -Mark Twain Falling into a rabbit hole of a petty talking point will yield petty results. This has been shown time and time again, yet little adjustment is attempted – @WaluigiWright

–

I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again, my reaction can be summed up as “disappointed but not surprised” – @kokorozek666

–

Tonight says a lot about the current political landscape in our nation and the priorities. – @TrippyPingo

The People's Basics is on linktree.

#the basic brief #the peoples basics #politics #discussion #human-centered economics #democracy & government #articles #federal politics #Youtube

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kinkywwefantasies · 7 years ago

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Still The King

Pairing: Reader X Neville Rating: Explicit Length: 3.8k, long Neville said nothing for a very long time. Usually after big shows he was very chatty, but he usually retained his championship. Everyone was giving him a wide berth and sending him conciliatory looks. As if to say, "sorry" or "it happens" or "you'll win it back", but without the chance of getting their head bitten off by the Englishman. You sat next to him on the bus partly because he was a friend, and partly because it was one of the only seats left open. No one wanted to sit by the defeated king. To you, he seemed okay. He said hello when you sat down. He was showered and cleaned up. He was crushing candy on his phone. He was just a little quieter than usual. His temper was notorious in the locker room, and if he were going to lose it, tonight was certainly the occasion.

You sat next to him in the relative silence of the bus as you all waited to leave. It seemed the bus was almost full. Just waiting for one or two more people... oh God, oh no... Enzo. The bus was waiting for Enzo. "Hey, Nev," you said, seeing that Neville was sitting on the aisle seat. Too much access to Enzo if that was indeed who you were waiting for. "Can we switch seats? I drank a half gallon of water back stage. I'm gonna have to pee a lot." "Oh, sure," he said congenially. He even smiled. You were beginning to think he lost his mind with the title. Like he had snapped but wasn't showing obvious signs yet. "Hey, have you listened to this podcast? Is it worth downloading?" He asked, showing you his phone. "Are you okay?" You blurted, catching the attention of Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns. They were paying close attention to Neville as well. "Yeah," he chuckled. You saw Rollins and Reigns exchange a concerned look from the corner of your eye. "I-" Neville noticed the other two watching your conversation and lowered his voice to talk to you alone. "I'm actually feeling pretty good." "Have you lost your mind?!" You hissed, becoming angry just out of confusion. "No. I finally figured some things out." He said. You went over his words again, thinking you'd misheard his Jordy accent. "Look, I'll tell you more about it when there aren't so many prying ears around." He said looking directly at Reigns. "Y/n," Reigns said. You looked at him, still slack jawed and wide eyed. "You okay?" "Yeah, Roman... thanks for asking." You said, sitting back in your chair. "I'm just fine." You put your ear buds in and just stared at the chair in from of you for the next half-hour. Enzo boarded, the bus started moving, and everything was relatively normal. Then you realized Neville kept looking at you. You could feel Neville's gaze on you here and there through the ride. At first, you thought he was trying to gauge your reaction, but he continued to look at you. You adjusted in your seat nervously. The man next to you had clearly lost his mind, and now his attention seemed to be locked on you. He would go back to looking out the window for a while, but his gaze always found its way back. Then he tapped you. You took out your ear buds and looked at him. It seemed like whatever he was going to say got caught in his throat when you turned to him. In the moment, all he could do was look at you. "Were you... going to..." you said, realizing the way he was looking at you. The way his eyes moved over your features. The way his eyes lingered on your lips. "Say something?"

"Do you care if I'm the champion?" He asked seriously. "Of course I don't," you said honestly. "I only care that you're happy. You're my friend, Nev." "Could I ever be more than that to you? More than a friend?" He whispered, looking over to Reigns and Rollins to make sure they weren't listening. "Like... like your girlfriend?" You asked, feeling a blush come over your face. Until tonight, you hadn't even known he was interested, but the more you thought about it, the more things started making sense. The way he smiled at you, how the seat next to him was always open for you, how he texted you goodnight and good morning... how had you missed it? How had you not seen the obvious? The more you thought about it, the more you liked the idea of you and Neville. He was attractive, strong willed, passionate... "Sure, like a girlfriend," he said. You could see he was breathing hard and his eyes couldn't stop moving. His fingers fidgeted on his arm rest. He was nervous as hell over this question. It almost made you smile, but you didn't want Neville to think you were mocking him. You would never do that. Well, not in a serious way. "Well... What do you think?" He asked, as you took too long to answer. He took your hand in his and you looked down to where your fingers had automatically wrapped around his. "I mean, yes? But, it's..." he was staring at your lips again. "A new idea..." he leaned closer to you. "For me." You closed your eyes as Neville was about to kiss you when you were interrupted. "Hey! Here we are! Ontario, California! Man, I love to be in Cali. Am I right?!" Enzo was already standing to get off the bus and basically screaming as everyone around him slept or had private moments.

"Shut up, Enzo," Reigns grumbled from his seat across the aisle. "What!? I'm not allowed to be excited? I'm the new champ! Look at this belt!" Enzo said, waving the Cruiserweight title in your direction. You looked to Neville as his hand tightened on yours. His jaw was set hard and you could see his anger building. "Dude, Enzo, seriously. Shut your big mouth. You're being extremely disrespectful." Rollins added to Reigns' objection as he kept an eye on Neville. "What?! I'm just happy! Can't a guy be happy about a title win?" Enzo's stupid smiling face was floating over your seat now. Neville was locked on him like a sniper. "I mean, it's ugly right now, but I'm gonna fix it up." Neville let go of your hand and you could feel how coiled he was becoming. Ready to snap. "Enzo, enough!" You said, losing your temper before Neville did. You stood from your seat and put one foot toward him. "You won. Don't rub it in." The grinning Jersey boy turned to you, and wagged the title at you. "What are ya gonna do? What are /you/ gonna do if I keep talking about these, uh, see these right here?" He asked, pointing to Neville's side-plates, "These hideous side-plates?" He antagonized you both. "What are ya gonna do, y/n?"

"I will punch you in the face," you hissed. "Sit down, y/n," Rollins advised. "And Enzo, you should listen for once." "Oh no! I'm scared." Enzo mocked as he collected his things and headed toward the front of the bus. No one else had moved they were watching this play out. "The tough little girl is gonna hit me!" "I'm serious," you growled. "Listen to the woman," Reigns advised. "I'm not worried, Romie. She probably only hits as hard Neville, and that wasn't a problem for me, was it?" That was it. You were done. You marched straight up to Enzo. A chorus of "don't" and "stop" followed you down the aisle of the bus with a few "get him"s thrown in. "Wait-!" Was all Enzo said before you popped him good. Right in the mouth. Your fist screamed in pain, but it felt so good to hit him that it didn't matter. And the way his head flew back, his horribly bleached hair following in glorious fashion, was a memory you'd cherish. "Y/n!" Neville was behind you, grabbing your waist just a second too late. "Fuck! My lip!" Enzo cried from the floor of the bus. There were some cautious giggles and a few full out laughs. And lots of clapping. "Told ya ta listen, dumbass," Reigns said from behind you. "This is all your fault at this point. She said she would hit you, and you kept going." "Whatever." Enzo grumbled as he stood up. "I got a title to improve." He spit then left to a chorus of boos. Reigns, Rollins, Neville and you were the only people that had moved. Nev was still holding your waist. You turned to him. "I can't believe you hit him for me," Neville said. You put your hands on his shoulders and gazed in his eyes, barely aware that the whole bus was watching you. "That's what girlfriends do," you told him before leaning up to kiss him. And holy cow, did he kiss you back. "Aw!" You heard Bayley squee from beside you. You also heard a "get it girl!" from Nia. When you opened your eyes again you saw Reigns, Rollins and the rest grinning and clapping. "Guess I'm a crowd favorite tonight," you whispered to Neville as you hugged. He laughed. "Always been my favorite," he said. "Sorry you lost to that jackass," you replied. "Let me make it up to you." "Yes, please," he chuckled. "And let's get some ice on that hand." "Yeah... ow."

***

Just as you and Neville had finally pushed Sami out of the hotel room to go stay with your roommate, some one knocked on the door. You thought it would be Sami to recount the whole ordeal again, and tell you and Neville how you two were a cute couple again, and how he was happy to stay some where else, but it was someone from HR. "Miss y/l/n?" He asked. "Yes," you said, knowing what this was about. Someone with a big mouth told on you. "I'm here to discuss the incident that happened on the bus earlier," he said. "Is it true that Enzo Amore provoked you into a physical response?" "He was antagonizing her," Neville said, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. "Yes, that's what I've heard," he said. "Mr. Reigns said you gave fair warning to Mr. Amore, but what you did still counts as assault." He said, looking down his nose at you. You felt yourself curl into Neville in shame. You knew you shouldn't feel bad about what you did, but his attitude made you shameful. "Look, can this wait until tomorrow?" Neville asked, stroking his thumb over your side to comfort you. "Well, I'm just here to tell you Mr. Amore won't be seeking your suspension or termination. This is an official warning. If it happens again, you will be fired." He said. "Have a good evening." And then he was gone. "Woah," you said, looking to Neville. "Why would Amore let me off the hook like that?" "He knows if he didn't, I'd beat his ass," Neville shrugged like the answer was obvious.

"Oh really?" You smiled at him. His serious face broke and you realized he was joking. You pushed him back into the room until he was backed up to the bed. Giving him a gentle shove, he fell back onto the mattress. "Yes," he breathed, looking up at you as you crawled over him. "Maybe he's scared of me," you said, ghosting your lips over Neville's cheek all the way to his ear. "I /am/ the one who hit him." "You did," he said, moving your hair off your neck, placing gentle kisses on your skin. "And it was very sexy," he whispered to you, making you shiver. "You're sexy anyways, but that was especially hot." "Mmm," you hummed in appreciation of his words, "why was that so sexy?" "You're a passionate woman," he said, before rolling both of you over. You gasped as he found purchase on top of you. He had expertly maneuvered between your legs. "I intend to bring that passion out."

"Please do," you sighed as he started kissing your neck again. His lips found the perfect spots to cling, lick, and bite. One of his hands in your hair. The other on your side. Your body needed more attention than that, so you took his hand from your side and placed it over your breast. "Fuck," he cursed. Then his lips attached to yours, pressing insistently so they would open. He slid his tongue between your lips and you moaned, arching into him. "Jesus, y/n, you've no idea how much I've dreamed of this." "I don't," you replied, taking a handful of his shirt in an attempt to get closer to him. Your other hand was wandering down his back when you came across the dimples in his lower back. "Christ," you said before you could stop yourself. You'd never been with a man as fit as Neville, and your genuine reaction had been to curse. Neville chuckled. "You like those?" You smiled and blushed, turning your face to the side. "Yes." You said, running your fingers over the definition in his back. "Oh, then you'll like this," he smiled, pulling his shirt over his head. He revealed his gorgeously sculpted torso and your mouth watered. You pushed him back so he would sit up. Then you began kissing his chest. He chuckled at that, so you gave him a playful bite. That earned you a moan, and you smiled. "You like pain?" You asked, giving a nip at the top of his abs.

"Not usually," he groaned. "I like the way you do that, though." You continued down his body at a slow pace, and he breathed harder as you got closer to his waistband. "That's enough," he huffed as he pushed you back down. His hands moved to your shirt and pulled it over your head. Then to your jeans. Your bra and panties didn't match, but it didn't matter a single bit. "You're gorgeous." "Aw," you said. "Thank you." "No, thank you... for sharing yourself with me. I've wanted you so long. Since I first saw you, actually." He said, planting kisses on your tummy as he reached under you to unhook your bra. "The first day you showed up at WWE, I thought I was seeing an angel." "Aw, Nev," you giggled. "You're making me blush." "I know," he smiled, caressing your face. He kissed both of your cheeks, then your nose, and then your lips. "I just needed something to push me to finally say how I felt." He confessed. "Like... losing your title?" You asked, holding his face so he would look you in the eye. "Yeah, kind of. I take a lot of self worth from work, and I know that's bad. I need to focus on my personal life, too. So when I lost something professionally, I wanted to gain something personally or else..." "You'd go crazy," you finished for him. He nodded. "So, am I like, a consolation prize?" "No!" He said, holding you closer. "Not at all. I just needed the push. I just needed a good enough reason to go for it. I was... scared to say something. You could have said no, and I would have lived with it. If you turned me down, well, it was already a bad day anyway." "So, I'm...?" You didn't know what to make of that.

"You're more treasured than any material object in the world," he said, kissing your nose. "More than the Universal Title?" You asked. "Definitely," he said, finally pulling your bra off. His facial hair tickled the sensitive skin of your breasts as he placed kisses on them. You arched into his attention. "The Crown Jewels?" You moaned as his tongue swirled around your nipple. "God, more treasured than that." "The Hope Diamond?" You asked as his fingertips slid under the elastic of your panties. "Garbage compared to you," he said. His lips connected with yours again as his fingers found your core. He knew just where to touch to make you gasp and moan. "Fuck that feels good," you moaned, and he responded by pressing his erection to your thigh. His fingers worked magic as he rubbed against your thigh for his own relief. "Oh, stop!" You cried. "Not yet." "Stop what?" He asked, freezing in place. His fingers still making contact with your dripping core. "I want to come with you inside me," you sighed. "Not right now." "You can do both," he whispered, fingers twitching and making you shiver. "Plus, I want you soaking wet when I take you." You mewled helplessly at his words. He moved his fingers again and your whole body jolted. "Is this okay?" He asked.

"Yes," you gasped. "Yes! Keep going, Nev. Yes." Your whole body shook as you came to Neville's soft touches. He kissed your temple as your relaxed beneath him. You could barely move in your blissful state as he pulled your panties off, leaving you completely exposed to him. "God, you're so beautiful," he said in awe of you. He undressed all the way as well and laid beside you. "I can't believe you're here... that this is happening." You rolled on your side and smiled at him. "Believe it." You kissed him quickly as he rolled you on to your back. "Ready?" He asked. His chest heaved with barely contained excitement. His pulse pounded under your finger tips. His pupils were blown wide. Making him wait any longer would be torture, so you replied quickly. "Ready," you said. He leaned down to kiss you as he pushed his hips forward. You reached between the two of you to help guide him in. He was the perfect size. A little longer than most but not too wide. Neville went slow, letting you enjoy the sensation of being filled with him before fucking you in earnest. It felt incredible. You were slick enough to avoid tears even though it had been a grip since you had sex. Your pulse pounded in your chest as you listened to his groans of pleasure, gripping his shoulders, his arms, his ass, just to feel more of him. He kissed the side of your face as he went deeper and deeper finally bottoming out. You moaned in desire as you felt him fully seated in you, and he rested there for just a moment. "You feel like heaven," he sighed, running a hand through your hair, bringing your face to his for a deep kiss. "You feel amazing," you moaned, pushing your hips up toward his to get some friction. That was enough to get him to thrust again. It felt like he was made for you as his dick slid over your g-spot again and again. "Nev! That's perfect!" "You like that?" He asked, speeding up. "Yes!" You said, gripping his shoulders harder as you got closer to release. "That's it!" "No, no," he said, pulling out of you. "Not yet." "Nev!! Please!" You cried as he rolled on to his back next to you. "You want it? Come work for it," he grinned, patting his thigh. He was beckoning you to climb on top. You obliged Neville and started riding him. If you thought it felt good when he was on top, then this felt amazing. "Yeah, baby," he encouraged. "Ride me like that."

You put your hands on his spectacular chest and closed your eyes as his hands fondled your breasts. He occasionally let out a stuttered sigh, sounding completely lost in pleasure. You looked down to see him looking up at you. A blush high on his cheek bones, eyes glazed over, and locked on you. It was intense. His hands moved to your hips as you chased your own pleasure, giving him just as much in return. "I'm close, Nev," you moaned, grinding even a little more. God, it felt good. "Come, baby," he told you. "Come for me." "Uh! Yes," you cried. "Baby, it feels so good." You said, leaning your body flush to his. "You feel so good." "Jesus, so do you," he said, thrusting up into you as well. You began shaking, twitching, as you got closer, and he could feel it. "Yes, go on." He said, gripping your hips harder. "Ah! Neville!" You screamed, falling over the edge. Your insides squeezed him as you came hard around his perfect cock.

"Oh God," he said, rolling the two of you over quickly. He began slamming into you, prolonging your orgasm and racing toward his own release. He groaned deeply as he pumped into you a few more times, and then stilled over you. He took heaving breaths as he held you close. "Oh my God, Neville," you said, running your hand through his hair. "Oh my God." "I know," he sighed, holding the back of your head to cradle you to his chest. "That was amazing." You pushed him back a bit, and he settled beside you. He didn't take his eyes off you for a second. You continued to comb your hand through his hair, lingering around his temples. "You're still a king," you whispered to him. "Title or not." He smiled. "You think so?" "Absolutely," you said, propping up on your elbows for a kiss. His hand slid into your hairline as he kissed you back, slowly and passionately. "How's your hand?" He asked. "Oh, I forgot about it, so it can't be that bad," you smiled at him sleepily. Coming so hard, and twice at that, drained your energy in an inviting way. "Good," he said, pecking your lips and then standing up from the bed. You made a small noise of disappointment. He smiled at that. "Sorry, I want to wash up a bit."

"I want to cuddle," you moaned, smiling back. You knew he'd be right back, but you just didn't want to be separated from him right now. "We will," he said, putting a knee on the bed to lean over and kiss you again. He went to the bathroom and the shower turned on. You snuggled into the hotel mattress. Mind becoming foggy. Then a thought crossed your mind, and Neville came back. "Are you a good guy now? In the ring?" You asked. "Oh... I suppose?" He said, sliding under the covers wth you. Washed up but still naked. You noticed he brought you a warm wash cloth, and smiled in gratitude. "Yes, I should think so." "A good guy with a temper," you giggled, subtly cleaning up, and tossing the wash cloth. "I dig it." "A righteous king," he said, pulling you to his side. "And you shall be my princess."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," you sighed, breathing in his scent as you rested your head on his chest. "I rather like it too," he purred, looking very sleepy himself. "Get some rest, princess. Tomorrow is going to be a big day." "Yes, sir," you purred. "Oh, now /I/ like the sound of that." He chuckled tiredly. "We will definitely explore that later." "Promise?" You said, curling into him further. "Absolutely."

#adrian neville #neville imagine #reader imagine #my content #my stories

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woohooligancomics · 7 years ago

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Free Stuff!

You like free stuff, right? Of course you do, and I'll give you some in a minute after we chat. You like free comic book day and free donuts and coffee while you wait for an oil-change. You like free samples at Costco, or a free ebook full of useful life-hacks like, "wake yourself up in the morning by soaking your contact lenses in coffee." If it's hot enough, the coffee will melt the contacts to your eyes, and that's a lot cheaper than Lasik surgery!

How about a free punch in the face? No? Boxers pay piles of money for that. They buy gloves, gym memberships, trainers, agents, steroids, and towels exclusively for sweat. They've paid a small fortune by the time they get a really good punch from a guy like Mike Tyson or Rocky Balboa. (Additional life hack: save on ear piercings by fighting Mike Tyson.) If they pay so much to get punched, why are you upset when someone punches you for free?

Still no? Because you don't like free stuff; you like certain things, and it's a nice bonus when they're free. Free beer is only nice if you like beer. You might think I need the Large Hadron Collider to split a hair that thin, but your relationship to "free stuff" changes when you start a business. If you want to meet your high-school biology teacher's standard of living (eating and breathing), you need marketing. That includes you, freelance artists, welcome to the glitz and glamour of owning a business and buying your own ramen noodles.

Marketing sucks. I'm just as annoyed as you when "social media marketing experts" follow me on Twitter with their inspirational quotes and their slick YouTube presentations, reminding you to be authentically authentic. "Thanks, I know it takes more muscles to frown than smile, but I'm not a lazy bastard!" Marketing makes me feel like Elizabeth Bathory, bathing in the blood of virgins. I don't want to be associated with creeps like the guy at the used car lot who only has a mustache so he can offer you a ride. "Ladies? Wink, wink!"

Even the jargon of marketing is dehumanizing and gross: target audience, market segment, and the holy grail, double-income no kids (DINK). Key performance indicators (KPI) help you analyze the ratio of Cost to Acquire Customers (CAC) and Customer Lifetime Value (CLTV) and reduce "churn" (customers leaving because they're sick of you talking about them like a fucking toaster).

It's unavoidable though, because you are that sleazy sales guy at the car lot... sort of. I'll assume you've had at least one job in your life. Did you feel dirty after selling yourself in the interview? Sure you embellished, because who doesn't want to hire a certified coffee grader? And how would they know? You can tell the difference between quality coffee and Starbucks. The gourmet coffee is named like a Senate bill, like HR61, not to be confused with the Securing the Assistance of Victims of Exploitation (SAVE) act; fitting in a discussion about coffee. Regardless, you sold yourself and your boss purchased your service. I assume you didn't resort to any awful sales tactics, like telling the interviewer, "and if you hire in the next thirty minutes, I'll throw in a free mustache ride!" Like it or not, sales is a necessity of modern life, like traffic, spam folders, or wondering how your uncle is still so racist in 2017. "No, uncle Steve, Jews did not invent jazz dancing, and stop offering my friends mustache rides."

But marketing isn't sales. Oh, look, the Large Hadron Collider! Bear with me. We don't watch Star Trek because it has robots and lasers. We watch because it tells us a story about who we are and the better selves we aspire to be. But we also wouldn't watch Star Trek if it didn't have any robots or lasers. Now that I'm a glitzy, ramen-eating business owner, sales is like that. I don't make comedy to sell books; I sell books, so I can make you laugh. It's an important distinction because I get caught up in my survival needs and forget they aren't in the driver's seat. You're the boss here, and I'm interviewing with you for the job of comedian. It's fair for you to decide I'm not right for you and I have to look elsewhere. But if we click, I hope you'll consider being my boss and also my friend.

You'll see on my resume that I quit a twenty-year software engineering career in late 2015. Most employers think I'm "overqualified", but I'm hoping you'll look past that. If my goal were to eat or to buy toys like Fitbits and vacuum shoes, then leaving tech was suicide. "Alexa, ruin my career." For me, comedy isn't about the money. I enjoyed software, but that didn't matter once I realized I was just asking my boss, "you want fries with that?" Maybe I was more skilled than the next man-shaped-cog, but when I left nobody stopped selling their cars, high-rise condos, or Bluetooth hairbrushes (fad hair day). The world didn't notice me leave any more than you notice turnover at your local Arby's. I left to make the things that burn in my soul, that keep me up at night, and that wouldn't exist if I didn't make them.

Seth Godin is right that artists need to create a purple cow (something that wouldn't exist without us). You'll never beat the industrial machine at their game. There's always a Mr Burns with a giant, faceless corporation that exploits third-world toddlers because their tiny hands and boundless energy will sew those shirts faster and cheaper (just like Santa's elves). WalMart runs real sweat shops right here in America.

After family and friends, your work should be the most meaningful thing in your life, but meaningful work has to sustain you and the purple cow won't keep you in ramen on its own. You have to market it. I've seen lots of purple cows that languish in obscurity. My friend Chris makes a webcomic called Puck, but he's said on numerous occasions that you can't earn a living with one. I think I can prove him wrong, and I think Brad Guigar, Russell Nohelty, and Tyler James already have. They earn their living making books and comics and helping others do the same (including me). Not to mention the many other creators I see earning decent livings with just the support of patrons.

So to maintain my family's ramen supply, I need to learn marketing, and then shower to get the stink off. Every time I see a blog from someone who's obviously successful, they're using tactics that make my skin crawl! "Here watch my twenty-minute prerecorded marketing tutorial and when it's over buy a subscription to my exclusive marketing club that's ONLY three-hundred dollars! But only for the next TWENTY MINUTES! HURRY! CLOCK'S TICKING, ASSHOLE! GIVE ME YOUR $300! NOW!! NOW!!!! NOW!!!!!! After twenty minutes, it goes back up to $400!" I want you to know before I say this, that I am incredibly grateful for Tyler James, who's given me a ton of great information about reaching my goals FOR FREE. Having said that, Tyler James is a dillhole. I love him and I'm super-grateful for everything that dillhole's done.

== Frustrated Rant Mode Engaged ==

Tyler: I realize somebody ponied up a bazillion dollars for your Harvard Masters, but my wife and I are below poverty (a family of 5 on $24k/yr) for the last two years now while I work this shit out. We literally paid every penny we had in the world to buy our house, and that was less than a quarter of that paper for your wall. It has nothing to do with me not wanting to support you that I can't whip-out $300 in twenty minutes. You've helped me, I think you deserve recognition, respect, gratitude and even testimonials and help from me. But even one-hundred dollars might mean not having power or Internet this month, and it'd be nice if you didn't rub it in my fucking face.

I feel guilty buying a sandwich at Arby's because the money could go toward advertising, despite knowing most of it has to be spent on food (I know Arby's isn't technically food). The silver lining is that we own our house, but after four years and two repair jobs, we still have a small leak in our basement. I personally dug a pit on the side of the house for weeks to save some money on it. (It's a real no-money pit.) And that's not even mentioning walking twenty-miles uphill both ways in the snow. Christmas is in a few days and I anguished this year over buying each of my kids ten dollars worth of used comics at Half Price Books. (They're still my kids at 16 to 22.) At least Tiny Tim hasn't lost his spirit!

So no, twenty minutes for a 25% discount on a $400 membership isn't "a great deal!" It's a slap in the face. And most of us who are trying to earn our living with comics (your "target market") are in my situation, not yours. If you'd offered me a payment plan, like I could layaway it for $50/mo, I likely would have bought it without the high-pressure tactics and told my Patrons I was spending their pledges on that instead of advertising for 6-8 months.

== Frustrated Rant Mode Terminated ==

EDIT: I want everyone to know Tyler James is a super stand-up guy! I had a brief discussion with him recently, he read this blog, and was super-chill about the roast and being called a dillhole for comedic effect. He also informed me of a related note, and I want you to know I had no influence on this, this was his plan before we talked. Tyler said:

"It's funny though... this year I am switching my courses payment structure to a monthly membership model in order to open all of my premium programs up to creators at all income levels. Price should not be a reason not to join."

He also informed me rather matter-of-factly, that I didn't have all the facts regarding his Harvard Degree. He got a special scholarship to attend Harvard in recognition of two years teaching in one of the country's most underfunded school districts. Thanks for filling me in on that, Tyler, I appreciate it!

So if you haven't met Tyler, I definitely recommend you do.

I'll be transparent here and share how my budget works, so you understand why I stay in the sleazy motel room that is marketing, (it smells of smoke and piss and god knows what happened to the toilet, but you're stuck there because of a mustache-riding convention in town). Webcomics used to support themselves with ads like network TV. That ended in 2013 when marketing peeps said "WE WANT MOAR POPUPS!" and the Internet responded with a Grumpy Cat meme in the form of a massive spike in ad-blocking technology. Woohooligan has one ad, which nets me about $1.50 per month, (twelve minutes at minimum wage). I'd earn more in an hour busking in the street like Amanda Palmer, doing stand-up comedy for tips. (See my one man show on the corner of 5th and Main titled, "No Really, I'm a Homeowner!") Most webcomics moved to Patreon for the bulk of their support, which is really online busking. Remember, before this I billed $80/hr, so I'm not doing this for money.

Why busk? Why not sell books? I currently have one print book and three ebooks in the Woohooligan store, and comic ebooks only really sell for a dollar. I love the sixty-five cents I see from that dollar after credit-card fees. You can read every page of my site and see a boat-load of ads, and the ad network (Google, etc.) pays me maybe a penny. So if you pledge just one dollar to my Patreon each month, the $0.65 I see increases your support of my work by more than a hundred-fold what I earn from ads. If we still want ramen, I need about $2,000 each month to replace my current disability income. So with a net $0.65 from each book, I need to sell 3,076 books per month, 103 per day, or one every fifteen minutes. I don't expect that, so those dollar ebooks alone will likely never support us. I've got to find other ways to supplement our income either with patron support, or by selling more expensive items like print books.

Yes, I left $80/hr to have a current monthly take-home (~$65) that's about what I'd earn in a single day at minimum wage. I didn't leave for money. You'd think I could work tech part-time, but no. My disability is thanks to an autism diagnosis in 2007. Because of that, work that I enjoy overtakes me like a Jeckyl and Hyde situation. Doctors call this blurse hyperfocus. I really never stopped working except for meals and sleep. That's not quite true, most days I didn't eat. People standing in the same room often call my name four to six times before rousing me from the fugue state that is me working. I lurch out of it like a trauma victim with a thousand-yard stare, groggy and irritated, unable to answer simple questions like "did you take your insulin?" Go away! Distraction bad! So I can't program part-time to supplement my income. The career I chose has to work, so I have to make marketing part of my comedy... I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I read all the marketing books and blogs I can. Most of the "information" in them is brain-dead stupid, useless to you personally, or both. You search Google and you find "10 Ways to Drive Traffic to Your Website." Great! Just what I need. The article begins, "Step 1: Make good content." Mind = blown! Why? You don't! Before this Einstein, I just had photos of used napkins. Hell, Twitter was nothing but lunch photos the first year. Thirty million tweets so I know you're not racked with guilt like me when you have an Arby's quarter-ton Beefenator. I can't wait to see step 2, "tell people", and step 3, "don't accidentally delete your website."

Getting back to free stuff, it's a truism in modern culture that if you're starting a business, you have to give people something they want for free. Professionals give people free consultations. Facebook and Twitter give us free accounts to share fake news and real cat videos with our friends. PornHub gives us free porn, but did you know they also give us free sex ed and free snow plowing in Boston? (Or they didn't, but it made you laugh, if only because "plow" is a double-entendre.)

I like giving people free things - free comics, free advice, free promotion. I certainly benefit from free things like Tyler James' ComixLaunch podcast or Russell Nohelty's Business of Art and Facebook group. (Russell just launched a new site, The Complete Creative.) They were more helpful than things I paid for. I bought a four-star marketing book on Amazon, it should be good, right? I'll save you twenty bucks; have a mailing list. Nothing else in 288 pages is what experts call "actionable", just shit you can read on any marketing blog like, "don't piss people off because Twitter." What would have been helpful is how to get signups on a mailing list, but that's like Baptist churches who asked PornHub to plow their back lot. The bar for marketing advice is so low, if your grandfather started a marketing blog tomorrow, he'd be Arby's VP of marketing in a week, and his number one tip for online success would be, "get off my lawn!" (There's no wi-fi there.) If you are a creative person and you'd like a book with some useful advice, here's my review of Russell Nohelty's Sell Your Soul.

But all these things we get for free aren't actually free, someone pays for all of them. Facebook and Twitter are funded by advertising. We don't consume their product, we ARE the product (and their execs talk about us like toasters). But that's not the only cost. On broadcast TV, Arby's hoped fans of Mister Ed liked sandwiches. Now that we have Internet, we know about the horse meat, and Arby's knows loads of creepy things about us, like whether we use coupons or carry a balance on our credit cards. Arby's pays more for Beefenator ads on Facebook because we're selling them our privacy. And as Adam Conover points out, you can opt out of Facebook, but good luck avoiding Google.

Shit like this is good reason to hate marketers because it's intrusive, impersonal, and manipulative. It's the reason I personally hate having to learn marketing. It's like an episode of the Twilight Zone where Disney World lets you into the park for free, but requires their guy Steve follow you throughout the park, scribbling notes and recommending giftshop items, Arby's Beefenator, and the Mustache ride. So yay, free Disney! Until you come back from the bathroom and Steve tells your mom the gift-shop has Pepto-Bismol. Thanks, Steve, it's nice to know you've got my back.

Since I don't have a choice but learn this stuff, I try to be decent about it. I choose to think of you as friends instead of a "target audience". I'm a real person on Facebook and Twitter (no bots, autoresponders or apps congratulating people for being my "top engaged followers"). I like chatting with you, without obsessing over your "engagement". (The word engagement should be reserved for situations involving a ring or enemy combatants.) I don't expect you to be in a fugue state waiting for my next tweet; fugue states are my job. I give mailing list subscribers a free copy of my first ebook, (signup below), though I'm not good about telling people that because I'm annoyed by promises of "must have tips for success" only after their mailing list signup. And I treat everyone the same, without stopping to ask, "is this person an influencer?"

I recently started introducing myself to people on social media. When someone sends me a friend request on Facebook or follows me on Twitter, I send them a brief message like this:

Hi Steve!

Thanks for the follow and for recommending the Mustache ride.

Let me know if I can help with any of your projects.

You may enjoy my new comedy manifesto, Laughter Is a Moral Imperative http://woohooligancomics.tumblr.com/manifesto

It's copied and pasted, but it's not an autoresponder. I tell webcomic creators that I also review webcomics. After I published the manifesto last month, I rifled my recent direct messages and shared it with as many people as I could. It's the pushiest thing I've done, but again, that article is totally free, it doesn't even link directly to anything I sell. I just think it can improve people's lives.

I've always enjoyed helping people. A drawing class at summer camp, unpaid articles for software journals, problem solving on mailing lists, being an Adobe Community Expert, sharing resources for managing depression. And I mentioned I also review webcomics, and write other articles to help creators, like Six Tips to Kickstarter Success, Six Ways to Earn More Commissions, and Six Reasons I Didn't Spell These Titles With Numerals. These are all free, just to help you out.

On a more philosophical note, we say the best things in life are free, but we often take the most important for granted, like privacy (see Facebook) and freedom of speech. Critics of the government in China and Russia are often jailed, beaten, or killed. If you're reading this in China or Russia, first let me congratulate you for getting past the censors (they never like my dick jokes). Second I will always fight for freedom of OMG look out behind you!

When I published a Je Suis Charlie cartoon in 2015, I was shocked how many people seemed confused about the importance of freedom of speech, as I mentioned online and in my first book. How often do you hear about the Freedom of Information Act, that helps protect our freedom of speech and uncovers a lot of great stuff like the FBI's hilariously out-of-touch Twitter slang dictionary?

Free hugs are... not always cool now that I think about it. Not from Steve the mustache guy. It reminds me that my dislike of ShamWow commercials can't be compared to old-world gatekeepers like Weinstein that you had to suck-up to because they controlled the purse-strings. Sorry to get serious on you, it's just an important subject that's on my mind, and I'll talk more about it with the next few pages of my Hellbent story. And speaking of freedom, I think the marketplace of ideas and crowdsourcing services like Kickstarter and Patreon are helping create a more open world with fewer of those sleazy gatekeepers, so it's good to see net neutrality is a freedom we rally around.

Finally there's time. There's no such thing as "free time", which implies what? "Lets hang out! Can't, I've got prison nine-to-five." You sholdn't think of your work that way. Self care is important, and the better part of self-care is creating a life you're not desperate to escape from, into a bubble-bath and a bottle of Chardonnay (or in our circles, Netflix, Jack Daniels, and a gallon of Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road). Nobody on their deathbed ever said, "I wish I had spent more time at the office", but do you think you'll say, "I wish I'd spent more me-time, chugging booze in the tub?"

Losses can be recouped, but there's no getting back the two hours you spent watching the Mario Brothers movie. (A brightly colored, whimsical game as imagined by the creators of Rain Man and the Killing Fields? Was Clive Barker unavailable?!) We have to make the most of our limited time to contribute to the world. I've made comedy for eleven years, but I didn't finally give up tech until I had cancer on my birthday two years ago. That was the second near-death experience on my birthday, following diabetes in 2013. I realized my best self wasn't the man-shaped cog asking people if they wanted fries with their website. Who knows what the next life-threatening birthday illness will inspire. Maybe I'll run for President, I hear the bar is pretty low. :P

I think any creative person will tell you, there are times when you feel frustrated by the cost of striving toward your better self. Times when I remember that none of my work has ever gone viral (not enough salt?) and the thousands of hours of comedy I've made feel unloved. While I know it's not a helpful emotion, I feel a little bitter about the effort it takes to get a handful of people to spend two minutes enjoying a comic strip I spent two days making for them. Because all this free entertainment we enjoy (and I'm not just talking about my work), is paid for with the precious time of the cartoonists and comedians who create it for us, and that's far more important than the money I've spent on advertising. That's why I share other creators' work as often as I can, because I can't afford to buy all their books, but I can tell them I appreciate them, and give them a little signal boost, or a little advice on their Kickstarter.

One day I'm thinking about how I avoid writing clickbait, but that it might get me that viral piece I've never had, if I could just roofie my principles for two damn minutes. And then I'm in a flame war with another artist because I used to post voting incentives on TopWebComics, and he says it's sleazy to put your work behind a pay wall or a voting screen. Well of course! No one pays to see Batman, or the Avengers, or Calvin and Hobbes, right?! It's totally unreasonable to expect two seconds of help from someone who enjoyed sixteen hours of my work for free. And we wonder why people don't value artists when some of us are so eager to devalue ourselves. I know I should have ignored him, but I couldn't let it go.

And then some goat sucker calls my comic work clickbait in the comments on my site while claiming he's trying to help. My first instinct is to release the Kraken, but I remember all the times I've shot myself in the foot that way and I try to calmly diffuse the situation. But he's like the squirrel in Ice Age and WON'T. LET. IT. GO. like it's the a sign of the end times that I don't take advice from an anonymous heckler like he's Spielberg. So I write another piece in frustration that becomes some of my best work and that's frustrating because I don't want an angry-ranter reputation.

When I'm feeling bitter about work and trying to avoid the stink of marketing, I remind myself that as expensive as my work is, it's a bargain compared to my previous career that only paid money. In 2007 I was a man-shaped cog that helped sell x number of cars (with or without fries). It's immeasurably more meaningful to write manifestos and essays like this, knowing that it will make lives better for friends like you. I can only say that because I choose to think of you as friends, not as a "target market" with a "cost to acquire" and a "lifetime value". I remind myself that I have no idea what my best work will be or who it will help. We shouldn't forget the best "free stuff" is ourselves. We're free to choose because we can never know the final destination.

So if you see me hawking books or promoting our Patreon, and you have that "eww, get away from me, pushy salesperson" reaction (like I do), please remember that I'm not out there giving people free comedy every day and helping other creators because I'm trying to sell books or get pledges. I'm trying to get pledges and sell books, so that I can keep laughing it forward, making people's lives better with more "free" comedy. I'm telling people about the free book on our mailing list to get more friends involved in our mission to bring laughter to the world.

I hope you'll consider being my boss and my friend, because there's nothing in the world I'd rather do than work for you. It’s a lot of work. It would be a lot easier for me to just focus on my books. But like I said, selling books chock-full o’ dick jokes is a side-effect.

I work in the service industry.

Now if my free stuff isn't your thing, I hope you do find what you're looking for.

Thank you for sharing yourself with us!

- Sam

P.S. If you believe that laughter is a moral imperative, get my first book for free, and share it with your friends!

Get Woohooligan Vol 1: Into Dorkness, Free!

#Kickstarter #Crowdfunding #marketing #free stuff #meaningful work #entrepreneurship #money #budgetting

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the-master-cylinder · 5 years ago

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There was a time you simply couldn’t avoid Valerie Leon, even, for whatever nebulous reason, if you tried to. Her frequent TV roles included stints on THE SAINT, THE PERSUADERS, SPACE 1999 and THE AVENGERS. Film assignments oscillated from pratfall comedy to action-adventure. Leon’s public persona further increased as a result of her visibility in a landmark ad campaign for Hai Karate aftershave (one whiff and sultry Leon falls for a wimp, who has no choice but to fend-off her passionate advances with kung-fu fightin’). Her golden era bridged two decades, the swingin’ ’60s and sex-obsessed ’70s; it’s a pampered period that Leon recounts with both bewilderment and a tinge of wistfulness. “When I look back, I realize how lucky I was then. You couldn’t have the same kind of career today. It took a while for me to suss out, but I created that sexy image and it paid off for me. The Hai Karate ads were extraordinary because they were only shown at Christmas and ran for six years, but they made such an impact that I became known as “the Hai Karate girl”.

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But the image was still a few years from crystallization when the stage struck Leon, then a trainee fashion buyer for Harrods department store, joined actress Eleanor Bron to croon some Christmas carols. “We got chatting and I told her how much I enjoyed singing,” recalls Leon. “She recommended I go to her teacher for lessons, and I was hooked. I started reading The Stage newspaper, and answered an advertisement for a chorus line job with a touring company of BELLE OF NEW YORK. I played truant from work and went to audition. Incredibly, I got the job and, to this day, I have no idea why. Okay, I was pretty, but I stuck out like a sore thumb as I was at least a foot taller than the rest. My height has always singled me out as I’m just under 5 feet, 11 inches without shoes.”

Leon ditched her Harrods job to pursue her theatrical dreams, but was devastated when the tour was cancelled after only eight weeks. Upon applying for a position as the D’Oyly Carte Opera Company’s dresser, Leon contracted Central Casting for lucrative extra work. “I did quite a lot of crowd scenes and, after a while, began getting picked-out for the odd line or two in the comedies THE SANDWICH MAN and THAT RIVIERA TOUCH.” Leon was back on the boards in 1966; performing as a showgirl in Barbra Streisand’s London production of FUNNY GIRL, she vocalized a couple of stage lines. “You know,” Leon smiles, “I was really green. I had a fairly repressed upbringing. I didn’t really live when I was young. It was the ’60s, but I was never part of that scene. I’m a bit. sad about that now.”

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Nevertheless, Leon’s parents endorsed her burgeoning career: “My mother went to RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts) and would have loved to have been an actress, but she chose marriage instead. My father must have been proud of me. Although I entered the business just before he died, one birthday he engaged a press cuttings service for me as a present. That showed me he had a tremendous amount of faith in me, though I didn’t receive much publicity around this time.”

Leon was a beneficiary of the hype generated by Streisand’s London premiere. She was initially offered the small role in such pot boiling, homegrown British fare as Mister Ten Per Cent (1967) and Carry On Up the Khyber (1968). But it was a movie, destined never to see the light of day, that altered Leon’s professional outlook: “Seth Holt directed a comedy called Monsieur Lecoq (1967). I was covering for Julie Newmar, as a bride in the church, when the lead actor-I can’t remember who he was now-gave me the once over and told me to wise up and accentuate my best assets. From that moment on, I started wearing a cleavage brassiere and tight sweaters to devastating effect. I created this sexpot image which wasn’t me, but it sure worked for casting directors.”

Though her wardrobe stressed curves and cleavage, Leon adhered to her “Everything but the nipple” motto. “I never stripped, not even in the softcore sci-fi Zeta One (1969) says Leon. “I did three movies where everyone was naked except for me. I kept my clothes on, which was quite bizarre. I lost a lot of work by not disrobing completely. I think it was shyness. I built a wall around myself and became unapproachable-it was the only way I knew how to handle my lack of confidence. An uncle of mine once said to me, You know Valerie, I never ever thought of you as sexy,’ and he was probably right because it was nothing more than a well-fabricated image.”

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But the facade expedited Leon’s on-screen exposure: within a single year, she was cast in such eclectic fare as Carry on Doctor (1967), The Man Who Had Power Over Women (1970), Carry On Camping (1969), The Italian Job (1969), The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970), All the Way Up (1970), A Promise of Bed (1970) and Carry On Up the Jungle (1970). By 1971, Leon was groomed as a bona fide Hammer heroine for Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb (1971), adapted from Jewel of the Seven Stars, a lesser-known story by Dracula author Bram Stoker. Director Seth Holt died a few days before production wrapped; Hammer kingpin Michael Carreras helmed the remainder of the script. Leon played dual roles as Queen Tera, the mummified Egyptian sovereign who terminates the defilers of her tomb, and Margaret, the 20th-century reincarnate of the vengeful mummy. The veteran cast included Andrew Kier (DRACULA HAS RISEN FROM THE GRAVE), George Coulouris (CITIZEN KANE), James Villiers (THE RULING CLASS) and Rosalie Crutchley (THE HAUNTING).

“It was just another job.” Leon relates. “I went to an open casting call and I have no idea if Seth Holt remembered me from the aborted MONSIEUR LE COQ. It was my first leading role and it freaked me out in a way. I wasn’t social at all while we were making it. I hid in my dressing room during lunch breaks, and didn’t mix with the rest of the cast and crew at all. There was work to be done.” Holt’s abrupt demise shocked the production team. “He had these terrible hiccups for a week,” sighs Leon, “and everyone thought it was enormously funny. We’d sit watching rushes, he’d suddenly hic cup and we’d all burst out laughing. Then his heart gave out because of the strain… it was awful. I was so upset when they wouldn’t let me go to the funeral. I remember crying a lot and looking very grim in the first scenes shot by Michael Carreras.

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Interview with Valerie Leon

I was wondering if your very strong ‘Hai-karate’ image kept admirers respectful? Valerie Leon: In the 70s I did create this rather aloof image. It’s crazy when I think about it now, because it was not the real me. A fan once told me with great respect how much he appreciated seeing a beautiful women who could kick ass ! I do think people were often in awe of me. So yes they retained respectful distance. What amazes me even now is when men come up and say ‘oh you helped me through puberty’. Yet it is all so long ago.

You often ended up playing powerful women. Even in Blood From The Mummy’s Tomb, one of the two roles that you play was a queen. Did you ever want to play a wallflower? Valerie Leon: No, it is much more fun to play strong characters. Although, having said that, I am sure that I did lots of TV series where I was…not exactly simpering, but where I was a foil for comedians. But then considering my height and the cleavage – no, I would not want to play a wallflower. I prefer something meaty to get my teeth into.

Have you noticed a greater degree of fan mail and general interest since the seventies stopped being embarrassing and started being cult? Valerie Leon: Very much so, and also because of the world-wide web. That is totally extraordinary. I get fan mail most days and from all over the world. Amazing and quite gratifying.

With your height and your Amazonian physique, what did you gain and what did you lose in terms of roles? I was reading how you went to France to learn French and become a fashion model, and you were disappointed that your stature perhaps held you back in that respect ? Valerie Leon: Yes I was too tall for modeling but I found a niche in show business. I did a film in France called Monsieur Le Coq, a Carl Forman film which Seth Holt directed with Zero Mostel. It never saw the light of day, but I do remember meeting an actor on that movie – I was very young then – and he said ‘You’ve got to accentuate your assets and create an image to go with your height. And that is exactly what I did ! ..I was also lucky because it was the age of mini-skirts and big boobs……it worked because at that time I went from one job to another, which was fantastic.

Since you mentioned Seth Holt just then…do you still believe that Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb was a jinxed movie ? Valerie Leon: Without a doubt. First of all Peter Cushing should have been on it, and his wife got so terribly ill just after we had done a days shooting. Then I heard that a young man from the arts department died on his motor bike, which I don’t think is generally known. And then, of course, Seth. At the time I never knew that he had been quite ill right from the start. They wouldn’t insure him because he had a weak heart. I just thought he might be great drinker. When he died a week before completion of the movie, I was totally devastated. I still have this image of him in certain scenes, bending over and looking at me very carefully before we went for a take. `.

I’m sure you’ve read that he had hiccups for days before he died, but it just continued, and it does put a strain on the heart. He just collapsed one night after a dinner party with his wife. The people had gone and apparently he just looked up and said ‘I’m going’. I didn’t know any of that at the time.

I have also read something recently which I should have read years ago, and the library had to buy it in for me. I read The Jewel of the Seven Stars by Bram Stoker, on which Blood From The Mummy’s Tomb is based. This was a novel written in 1903 which a young American Producer Howard Brandy found. It was really interesting to read this book only last year. I don’t know why it took me so long. It’s a terrible admission, But it had a completely different ending and I don’t think it would have helped when I was filming.

You would have approached the role differently maybe ? Valerie Leon: Not necessarily but I wish I had been more outgoing with the people I was working with and shown more interest in what was happening around me.

Do you think Seth’s death on the film production changed the final product from what he envisaged? Valerie Leon: Yes. Yes, I am sure, because Seth was also an editor, and a lot of what he shot was very much in his head when he died. I believe that Michael Carreras had quite a problem putting it together, and it also came out as a ‘B’-feature to a film called Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde, so I suppose at that time it was not expected to be successful – a female mummy and all that. The extraordinary thing is that it’s now become such a cult. I think there is a lot of nostalgia for the Hammer Horror Films. Similar films are so horribly graphic today.

They keep trying to resurrect Hammer and talk about making more films. In fact even as we speak I have 500 little trading cards to sign with pictures of me from Blood From The Mummy’s Tomb on the back, like those cigarette cards. It’s quite extraordinary. They are sold in newsagents and people swap them. That’s what I mean – this is a film from 1971.

You carried Blood from the Mummy’s Tomb very effectively. Were you disappointed it didn’t lead on to other leading roles ? Valerie Leon: Yes, in retrospect, of course. I was very disappointed at the time. But it is the luck of the draw. Now I feel really blessed that I had that opportunity, and that it’s still remembered after all this time.

Do you think that if the British Film industry hadn’t been in such a financial crisis in the 1970s that you might have got as broad a range of roles in films as you did in television ? Valerie Leon: Yes, possibly. I always remember – now I am really going back to the very beginning – Michael Caine, who I met in 1966 on The Italian Job, when we had coffee and were filming at the Royal Lancaster Hotel in Bayswater, saying that I ought to go to Hollywood . But actually I was naïve and shy, and quite immature, ludicrous when I think back on it all now but I came from a protected middle class background. I think that people who grow up in more difficult circumstances are hungrier and more willing to claw their way up the ladder. In fact Ruby Wax once met me for an appearance on her show, and after spending some time with me she said ‘I can’t use you – you’re too nice!’, which I regret. But I just have to be grateful for what I have had.

THE SPY WHO LOVED ME

If you could do it all again would you be a little bit tougher? Valerie Leon: Yes. I would be harder, tougher. I would put myself about more. I should have mixed with more people which would have led to more opportunities. As I said, I had this sort of ‘keep away from me’ look, barrier, whatever, and I guess people might have thought I was snooty, which I wasn’t, but that was my way of just coping with things. Many stars come to sticky ends, so I think maybe it’s just as well. At least I am still here, for which I’m grateful.

Were you surprised the type of film Zeta One turned out to be considering it featured James Robertson Justice and Charles Hawtry? Valerie Leon: Yes. That was an odd film. I haven’t seen it for years, but when you talked about it, I ploughed through all my photographs and I found this extraordinary photo of me where I am dressed in a white cat suit with ropes going round my body and through a leather triangle; I think there’s another photo somewhere with just pieces on my nipples or something. That really is so long ago, but it turned out to be a sort of spy sci-fi spoof, didn’t it? and it has been described, I think, as soft core porn.

What do you get asked most about at conventions ? is it the Hai-karate or the Bond? Valerie Leon: Bond, Carry On and Hammer Horror, because all three have become cults, and I have been very lucky to have been associated with all three. And the fact that I worked with Roger and Sean. Some people always say ‘Who did you prefer?’ and I always sit on the fence and say, well, Sean was the definitive Bond, but actually as a person I preferred Roger.

What was your favorite out of your six Carry On films ? Valerie Leon: I took part in six of the films and two Christmas shows on television. My favorite was Carry On Up The Jungle, where I was leader of The Lubbie Dubbies which was a true Glamazon part !

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“It was clear when we were shooting with Seth that he had very definite ideas in his mind. All his directions were very precise with regards to me running through the undergrowth, getting my clothes torn off or my hair blowing out behind me in a dream sequence. One thing he had me do, which I hated, was being shut in the tomb. I’ve never felt so spooked as the coffin lid was put on top of me. I kept thinking. What if there’s a fire and they leave me here trapped?’ Everything changed when Seth died because his editing point-of-view was missing.”

And, according to Leon, Holt’s disengagement from genre cliches may have imperiled the film’s commercial success. “Distributors were very disappointed by it.” she explains. “They wanted a traditional mummy wrapped in bandages, not a dead Egyptian queen reincarnated as a modern girl. It wasn’t what they had hoped for. Seth’s ideas obviously didn’t fit the market for horror at the time. Maybe that’s why it has become a cult movie.”

British exhibitors were so disappointed in MUMMY’S TOMB that the film was dumped on the bottom half of a double-bill with DR. JEKYLL AND SISTER HYDE. And Hammer executives were dismayed with Leon. “I refused to show too much in any of the publicity shots that I did,” she says. “I was a disaster on the Hammer ‘glamour queen front because I didn’t bare all. I’ve always believed suggestion is more erotic than showing everything, anyway. There is a nude rear shot of Margaret getting out of bed in BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY’S TOMB. But it isn’t me, it’s a body double. Significantly, though she earned glowing reviews as a “Hammer discovery,” Leon never again worked for England’s “House of Horror.

But the experience hardly ruffled the actress. Between movie and stage gigs, Leon was photographed at glittering movie premieres with her “glamour rival” Imogen Hassall (WHEN DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH). “She had even bigger cleavage than me!” laughs Leon. While recording an episode of the popular Brit sitcom Up Pompeii (1971), Leon met Michael Mills, the BBC head of comedy whom she married in 1974. Though Mills was 25 years her senior, Leon acknowledges, “I think I was looking for a father figure to look after me. I was quite neurotic at the time and he used to keep me calm.” Mills died in 1988, leaving Leon with teenage son Leon and daughter Merope.

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“It was difficult to cope when Michael died in 1988 – my children were still young and I took any job to make money, such as meeting and greeting in restaurants and helping in a jeweler’s shop.

Subsequently hired as a decorative presence, Leon in her post-MUMMY roles appeared in bawdy comedies No Sex Please – We’re British (1973) Can I Keep It Up for a Week? (1974), The Ups and Downs of a Handyman (1976) and a certain low-budget spoof of a 1933 classic. “I played a High Priestess in Queen Kong (1976), and looked great, “grins Leon. “I should have played more evil parts. I was always getting cast as the dumb brunette, which hampered my career.” One predictable question (“Which role qualifies as your favorite?”) draws an unpredictable answer: ” Carry on Girls (1973). It was so much fun. I started off very plain and ugly with glasses, and was thoroughly transformed into a beautiful model. I have very fond memories of that CARRY ON.”

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Training as Tanya the Lotus Eater, an Amazonian dominatrix in Revenge of the Pink Panther (1978), Leon “literally cracked the whip in my garden, Neighbors peered over the fence wondering what I was up to. I’m still not sure

they believed I was simply rehearsing for a part!” The previous year, Leon performed a less intimidating role as a “Bond girl”: ” Producer Cubby Broccoli asked me to go to Pinewood Studios to audition for THE SPY WHO LOVED ME. I told him I didn’t want to be killed off, so I ended up playing a hotel receptionist who hands Roger Moore his key, takes a fancy to him, then goes to his room and finds Barbara Bach has beaten her to him. We went on location to Sardinia and had a fabulous time as you always do when you are part of the Bond family. We even had a private dinner with the Aga Kahn.”

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Leon enjoyed another rendezvous with 007 in the renegade Never Say Never Again (1983) though, this second time around, the superspy was embodied by Sean Connery. Fishing lessons and a 10 a.m. audition, were obligatory for the role of Sexpot. “I turned up wearing a maroon catsuit with a sleeveless lurex coat. The producers were amazed by such an over-the-top outfit at that time in the morning, and I’m sure it got me the job. We shot in Nassau and my scenes had me meeting Sean Connery on the quayside, later feeling a tug in my fishing line and pulling Bond out of the Ocean.

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Her last role to date was a guest spot on the British TV show ROY’S RAIDERS; but Leon admits that she’s ready for some second innings. “If Hammer were to remake JEWEL OF THE SEVEN STARS, as I believe they’re considering, of course I’d love to appear in it. I want to work.” Involved with public relations for Le Cafe Du Jardin restaurant in London’s Covent Garden, Leon is flattered by the attention kindled through her Hammer affiliation: “It’s amazing to me that I made enough of an impact to be remembered so many years later. When I look back over my career today, I realize I was never marketed correctly, Raquel Welch was, and I needed the sort of Svengali she had in her then-husband Patrick Curtis… someone who would have made me train my mezzo soprano voice for the musical theatre. My husband was proud of me, but could never understand the all important publicity side of the business, where one thing really did lead to another. My children are now grown up and doing well: Leon works in multimedia and web design and Merope is a high-flyer with The Guardian. Outside of acting, I perform regularly with my singing group and I attend conventions for fans of Bond, Carry On and horror films. What’s kept me really busy are my illustrated presentations, which I originally wrote to perform on cruise ships. I think I’d like to be a personality, a presenter. I live in hope of a resurgence in my career. Like Queen Tera, I will rise again!”

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Femme Fatales v04n03 express.co.uk denofgeek

Valerie Leon: From Harrods to Hammer There was a time you simply couldn't avoid Valerie Leon, even, for whatever nebulous reason, if you tried to.

#HAMMERFILMS #BABES

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kansascityhappenings · 5 years ago

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Couple diagnosed with lung cancer 5 weeks apart

GLOUCESTER, Va. — A couple from Virginia is in for the fight of their lives.

During Lung Cancer Awareness Month, they have a story to share and a reminder for others.

Lisa and Seth Doyle have known each other since they were 14 years old, and have been together since 18. Together, they share four children and three grandchildren.

They admit they’ve had their fair share of hardships throughout their lives, but few things compare to the cancer diagnosis they both received. The Doyles are battling lung cancer together, and they were diagnosed just 5 weeks apart.

Lisa was given her diagnosis in July after several bouts of bronchitis that kept returning. She said the words from her doctor did not quite register at first.

“The doctor said: I’ve been looking at your scans all afternoon and I’m sorry, it’s lung cancer.”

Seth knew that they would get through her diagnosis and treatment together, as they had done for 35 years. That was until he received the same news, but worse.

“But then things took a turn, because my husband was also diagnosed with the same lung cancer,” said Lisa. “His is terminal, it spread to his brain. He has 14 tumors in his body.”

“I may have a year, a year and a half,” Seth said. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen to her, I’m not scared about me dying, because I’m going to a better place. I’m scared of leaving her here … all by herself, sick, bills rolling in, that’s what scares me the most.”

Praying for a miracle, they say they have shocked doctors, and shared too many visits to the hospital, including their biopsies.

“I was giving him the thumbs up, he’s all prepped for surgery, with his blue hat on, I went in first,” Lisa said. “We wake up in recovery together and you have nurses coming up and saying ‘oh my god, really?’”

Lisa decided to put her chemotherapy on hold as Seth continues radiation.

“I’ve known him since I was 14, been together since we were 18, I can’t sit back and do treatment and be fighting for my life and be a positive to live as I watch him die,” Lisa said. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take, I can’t have both of us back in there laying in the bed. He says he wants me to be happy again, he wants me to go into remission and have a happy life.”

“If something happens to me, she’s still young enough,” said Seth. “So, it’s not looking good for me, so why should she hold off on her treatment, when I’m not looking anyway? And I think she would, if something happens to me, she’s still young enough.”

Seth stopped working after the diagnosis. They say the support of friends, like Brandy McCreery, is priceless.

“Maybe we could raise some money while they fight for their lives, because I don’t feel like they should fight for their home while they are doing that,” McCreey said.

“It’s in God’s hands and I’m putting my faith in that and I am hoping for a miracle,” Lisa said.

The question remains: why did this couple succumb to lung cancer at basically the same time? They both have their own theories.

“I’ve read that with cancer … usually it’s linked to some kind of major trauma,” Lisa said. “We lost our son a few years ago and it was unimaginable grief. The grief was so intense with losing our son, he was on life support for four days, it’s not just like we got a call and it was done.”

Meanwhile, Seth spent his life working on floors and knows he’s come into contact with asbestos.

“It’s a living nightmare, you wake up every morning and you are like, ‘is this real?’”

If you’d like to donate to the family, click here.

For more information about Lung Cancer Awareness Month, click here.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/11/18/couple-diagnosed-with-lung-cancer-5-weeks-apart/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/11/18/couple-diagnosed-with-lung-cancer-5-weeks-apart/

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abstracttravel · 7 years ago

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LOQUA - CIOUS

La Segunda Parte

James has the luxury of his own connecting flight. A bare foot straddles the wheedling away foam seat. Jangling keys penetrate instead of the emergency screwdriver. The no seatbelt sign lights up and a “merge” into the foot traffic. Slow going with floaties, cozies and backward flippers jostling for the wrong of way. Make the bend at Duke’s statue and back to side street shorts and dodging the hotel detritus. A spill in that swill of air conditioner runoff, greased out oven dregs, eclairs gone sour and most likely some semen is a faux pas to the Nth. Ugh.

James pops the kickstand, quickly imprinting the black tar, and steals a glance at the track team lapping on the stadium turf. The light will diffuse slowly this long summer evening, casting a hazy sombre over his military cornered sheets. The outer common area is jamming to Jamrock cuts and the Spliffs are sweating through the open doors. No time for that now, the daily party prepping and preening must commence post-haste.

The door was slightly ajar as always, no threat of the non existent Air Con seeping out. The sink sticky sweet with pineapple rinds and a small protectorate of ants from last night’s swarre. The typical random foreign pastiche of 7-11 wrappers of three less than hypoallergenic roomates, occupy the hinterlands of the formica. The sinkcastles of solo cups, dotted with watermelon seeds strew aside stockpiles of spent wasabi packets and chopstick splinters.

“Hey man do you have anything on Saturday?” bellows Dave from the foggy bathroom.

“Not too sure depends on the morals of Val’s friends haha.” James jests.

“He told me they have some Pika frat dude boyfriends back UCSD. Good luck with that!” Daves says.

“Yeah I’ll be with Nikki anyways so I haven’t told her about the these girls. Ha. Besides they are only here this weekend. Should be a hotel party then I’m thinking.” James suggests.

“I was thinking to go to Diamond Head in the day and get smokey, walk around and bullshit.” Dave hints.

“You remember that time we went to the waterfall with Kate, right? We smoked behind the waterfall and your dumbass wants to climb to the top! Look mannnn… There’s a path!” James recalls.

“That was Stockholm syndrome bro! You wanted to go too.” says Dave.

“How long was that hike? Maybe getting lost for 3 fucking hours. Grabbing roots in wet boardshorts.. Going practically vertical with no path, that was you itinerary” James says.

“Yeah but…..” drags Dave.

“So no, to joining your expedition.” James replies.

“Whatever, I’m taking my second nap…” trails off Dave as his dirty towel sundae sprinkled with backne jimmies disappears into the funk that is his den.

James lily puddles his way into his realm of borderline OCD. Throws the beyond the pale green Clive deck packin pack onto the doubled tucked sheets. He flickers the sticker cocooned LapBottom to submissive consciousness, the grogginess of 2 GB lists. The dregs of a Mickey’s Grenade tumult slightly as the BoySetsFire menaces. A quick cold douse in the hot water devoid petri dish, his salt and arenas ankles add more sand to the box. A dollar store PC speaker pixelates a tepid squawk through the limed fish curtain. Seth, the agoraphobic gamer and wisp chined squatter, has not left the nest for 3 days apparently. Why study in Hawaii when you could learn about stale kleenex sculpting stateside.

A few squeaks of the shower shoes come found loungewear and the bright vans Cholo button down is anchored in tight Element pants framing crisp unskated Es Blue Sal 23s. The smell of spaghetti pomodoro a la studienti poveri wafts from the neighbor’s cucina. Prefacing the dinner triangle there is usually some impromptu, 2 winded sheets foray into the dorm’s 10 communal iceboxes. Some quasi Italian or Mexican carb accompanies a yardsale of dogeared veggies and a non-spread-covering over/under of seasoning. The too many cooks but ample pot situation flies here as baking and pre-heating are pre-ordained. The vegetarian option usually turns out the be the former of bad and evil.

This sundown, the juvenile California pink backed hawks have returned to their falconry gloves with Mai Tais in their gullets and Jack in their maws. Drunk and lit as their Gaslight District street lamps, they are in various states of undress and redress as James peers through a shade on approach. There is some “Thong-g Thong-g Thong-g” from the warm beer coaster slash Ghetto Blaster on the red carpet. The song became some kinda of late-night jam of the Summer, tho ironic or just ass-shakin left to debate.

The girls were in bathing suits, bras, or in various stages of blowdry. Everyone was sunburned, spilling and succeeding at life.

Shila and Noelani are in the kitchen, both cooking, only one with the spliff.

“James what took you so long to get here? We need some more salsa from your house. We didn’t want to see your weird roommates hahaha.” Shila says as Noelani blows rings.

“Nah nothing just tired from the sun. We were there for like 4 hours and YOU can get the pasta. The creeper and the lurker are in their rooms.” James says.

“Hmm… Sara you go, we are busy. If we hear you scream we got your back!” Noelani laughs, exhales and coughs for the next 45 seconds.

“Ugh...only because you are too high to find it psssssh! Get lost in a cabinet haa.” Sara says.

“Where is Nikki? Megan did you see her in your place?” James asks.

“Yeah she was waiting for the shower, but you know Liz takes forrrrr ever in there.” She should be finished now tho?” Megan reports.

“She told me you lost at Vodka-Cran Pong last night so you both have to do the dishes. Good luck with those 40 plastic fluorescent shot glasses you stole from that Tiki Bar! Haha… We need immaculate” Winks James.

“Ok J, I’m more worried about these greasy-ass Enchilada pans. Damn…” Megan confesses.

Cologne starts to intermingle with Ancho Chilli dust, and it can only James best dude. Val pops his head in the door with those stupid Terminator-Style sunnies leading the way. He is wearing some pomegranate red and bleach white hibiscus Tommy Bahama reject.

“Jamessssssssss!!! Vatoooooo!!! Where you been bro.” Val So-Cal drawls.

“Just back from the beach with the girls. Came home and got spicy and breezy for a few. Hooked up that aloe.” James says.

“Yeah I was at econ class, hangover AF. Needed like 3 of those dollar Maki rolls just to get me straight.” quips Val.

James snickered. “Yea I was Bento boxing before the beach. That Giant Clam tho. Everyday I think I can do it, but nah… Ha!” replies James

“Gross. You always eat weird shit. Here man do you want a Corona.” Val offers.

“ You got lime? I want a Michelada” asks James.

“ Yeah we got that, but the muy picante hot sauce I brought from Cali is finished.So you got Food Lion.” grins Val.

“Weeeeeeeaaak… like that Hale crackerjack prize shirt. Psssssst!” James jibes.

“Man this is solid tiki barbeque quality shit. Some Kalua pig worthy wardrobe. Look at you with your sister’s tight jeans.” Val barbs.

“Whatever man… I’m not gonna know you at the club later. Wear those glasses too pimp.” James mocks.

“Shut up gringo haha. Take this beer before it is sweating. Make your own drink.” Val tosses the perspiring projectile across the counter.

“ Fine… so what’s the plan for tonight? You know what hotel the girls are staying at?” James asks.

“They are in some Ambassador place close to the beach. Told me it’s nice but not to nice to get thrown out of. Ha.. Remember, these are girls who do like 3 spring breaks a year!” Val replies.

“Yea you told me Haha. So we go to the hotel for some pregame and pick them up. After, come back here and get everybody rounded up?” James says.

“Def, let's check out Planet Hollywood later. They have specials for girl drinks. It will be funny or stupid haha, and then we can dance at Hard Rock after.” Val proposes.

“Ok that’s all good. We can taxi there, maybe 2 vans? When do we bike over to the hotel?” James asks.

“Yeah man they should be at the hotel around 8. But supplies are running low so we need to get some refrescas before then.”

“Oh…. are you using my best friend's sketchy-ass looking Fake ID? It’s not even the same skin shade as me bro! It’s his shitty fake, not even mine Ha!! Like paying $25 bucks for six degrees or something.” James jokes.

“You buy stuff for the girls everyday. The people believe it. Just don’t go to that old Kamehameha guy’s place again.” Val says.

“Yeah that knife collection is massive…. Ok, but only because my Hawaiian Princess is working the 7 now.” James winks.

“She has some Hale crush on you man. Na Sked Brudah! Just cause she is big and has that weird eye thing. Haaha!” Val mimes the looks to James.

“Yeah she is def a better choice than Nikki. I’ll write her a poem and tape it to some Spam Musubi Ha! Unrequited love, right?” James pumps a beating heart.

“Whatever, I don’t think you could even find a hotter girl than Nikki. Even if you had those Julio iglesias swag!” Val invokes his Padre’s favorito.

‘Ha yea man, it's probably true. I know you are thinking some hook up with her and your girl.” James smiles.

“It’s not my fault Megan that sees that in the shower everyday ha! She said it, not me.” Val grins.

“Stupido… Let’s walk to the 7-11 now. Get the money and what people want. Remember we gotta carry all of it back. F.” James grimaces.

Val is quick and convincing, as if he’s done this before… Every day since June. The girls seem to always have their stash, and most are already half cornichoned at this junction. They request the always seaworthy Captain. Guys tend toward Coronas, sometimes conjuring and confiscating all the limes in Food Lion… Thrice. Val visits Seattle Mark and his seemingly sister wives roomies, who always got the good green and that perpetually high phosphoric, panorama swiveled chameleon. All from the Emerald City, Mark moved with his waif girlfriend and her wife hermana to UH even though he didn’t pay tuition or have a bed there! They always were burning, baking and flush with kush. Conex, conex. They threw in for more cervezas.

James and Val took the short walk past the track stadium, where they could see the UH Rainbows finishing up suicides. That Seven was an almost omnipresent blessing always being within reach and selling spirits. The staff smelling of endo and those bleary eyes easy to miss the DOB. The Japanese heritage of Hawaii probably is the reason there are so many Sevens, but the Spam Musubi sushi, and the mashup Loco Moco bentos are def under the rising sun.

Alana is working so the acquisition of imbibables should be no prob. A little flirting from James and a little extra dinero is all. They crip walk trying to look hard and then bust up in laughter at the absurd entrance. The condensed freezers beget condensed crowned cervezas. A funk wafts metalic from the freon fumigation, but the beer is always ice. Schlitz cicled stalagmites protrude skyward, kinfolk with Boones Farm’s Northern lighted hues.

They deadlift two cubes and put them on the dirty sanded tiles. Val takes a quick stroll to the Spirits section, literally a Ruffles shelf repurposed. The cheap bum whiskies and vagrant brandies segregated on the lower rungs for inconspicuous consumption. The mid-management Finlandias, the Oldschlager and the firesale Firewater slunk and shimmer at eye level. The Captain, Malibu and the Crown Royale perch and parry for parity. Two handles are handled.

The Hales waltz towards the register, past the acrid frankfurters and hypnopompic slushy machines. The two Morgans are plonked down next to the hand saran wrapped Spam Musubi by Val. The kettlebells on the ceramic floor.

“Looking good tonight Alana, your hair is a lot longer now” Val says.

“Yes I haven’t cut it for a while. I’m trying to grow it longer. Thinking about dying it too,” Alana replies.

“I think you should do it lighter, and I don’t like short hair,” smiles James.

“Aww you would say that with your always white blond hair. How many boxes did you use this time haha,” laughs Alana.

“Only two, I just did the roots. It takes so long though, it always burns me,” James responds.

“Well then maybe I will make it lighter James, if you like it,” coos Alana.

“You know his girlfriend is going to Maui soon. James you should take her on a date. Go to the moto-sushi spot. Candles and Sake, right Alana,” Val suggests.

“James! We couuuld do that. I know how to keep a secret,” winks Alana.

“Ok yeah we can see, Ummm… I have some tests next week but I can give you my number.” James says.

“Awwww. Yay, here write down your number. I don’t work Monday and Thursday next week” giggles Alana.

“No worries, here. Just send me a text. We are having some party tonight, you can come to one. You are like our bootlegger anyways, hahah,” James smiles.

“ Ok, but you know I can get in a lot of trouble for you guys. The ID isn’t even you. Everyone here knows that….. But it’s ok, You are cute and this job is sooooo boring.” she sighs.

“Hahaha, that was James before the plastic surgery! I think he looks worse now,” Val interrupts.

“Whatever… You guys are sooooo funny, are you stoned now?” Alana squints.

“ Noooo…. But I know you are, or will be on your break! I see you eating all those twizzlers and Starburst wrappers sticking to your arms.” jokes Val.

“No I don’t, idiot! James, give me that dumb ID and get Val out of here. Stupid Hales.” says Alana.

“Look Val is high or something, forget it. I’m gonna bring you a present next time since you are so sweet.” James apologizes.

“Yeah he’s going to bring you a box of Starbursts! HAHAHA.” Val says as he grabs the cases and starts to leisurely bolt out the door.

“Here is the cash and a little extra for your smile. Text me. And i'll bring Sour Patch kids instead.” James says as he picks up Cap’n.

“Hahaha. I will! Be safe Mr. James.” Alana blows a kiss.

With two 24 count Mexican suitcases, and two handles of mustache growers they plod up the incline. The only caveat of the location is the scooter non gratis, anti two passenger, four carry-ons doesn’t land well. They laugh about the upcoming night, make plans for a day of tandem moto tourism and get winded thrice.

They arrive to the pumpkin rust glow of overhead moth raves, and a few cigarettes and Natty ice cubes melting around the table. Kobe, Sara’s Virginian main squeeze is laughing really quietly to himself. When he gazes up, his eyes implicate the culprit. Mark is at his side, checking us on approach. He has his signature T-shirt wrapped angels on horseback style, a Bedouin top-hat that has become the rage for the beach days and the wee hours. Scruffed up and dressed down, his cuts a figure that is Pac NoWest for days. His silhouette always shaded X Files style by the enveloping and ever evolving kush conduits.

Mark perks up hazily glimpsing the MRE’s tucked under fatigued wings. Kobe just laugh-coughs a “Vaaa...llllll….llll…..l”

“Ahh Dopeman! We are gonna have some good times tonight! Glad to see you got the supplies” Mark rasps.

“Oh man, pass me one of those! I can’t ‘cough’ sto ‘cough’ p choking from this new bud.” laments Kobe.

“Damn Mark, you got some good shit? A good hook-up this time?” Vals asks.

“Yea man, Kobe’s boy came through. Was a little short, but dude this shit is horseshoes and clovers good! Hahah,” Mark says.

“Yea man let me try that blunt, then. Don’t be a shyster, parcero.” jokes Val as he reaches over the table.

“Thats cool dude. Kobe looks like he is lampin’ for the rest of the night haha…. So I think this is the plan. Val has some chicas flying in from home. They have a place close to the beach, maybe a pool? So we will go scoop them up, come back here for some preparedness. Then van to some spot. Maybe some club. But def trying for a pool party late night,” James proposes with a double thumbs up and a shrug.

Kobe’s roommate Mike, always self-confident and with a coozie, shimmies over from next door offering an outstretched low five.

“Ah dudes, you got the goods for sure! You gonna skinny dip later, like at the beach last week? Hahah,” Mark pokes.

“Whatever, man. I was drinking vodka crans with the girls, and my boardshorts fell off in the waves. I didn’t see anyone complaining…. Ok I wasn’t seeing much of anything that whole day. Hahah! Anyways, did you pitch in for beer this time?” James says straightforwardly.

“Yeah I always pay… Or give extra cash the next time.” defends Mike.

“Well you didn’t last time, or even last week, so just checking,” James replies.

“Hey man, what time do you want to go out later?” Asks Kobe.

“Maybe like 10-10:30. They have drink specials for girl at Hard Rock. One time, Megan gave me one of her free ones and the security grabbed that Rum and Coke right out of my hands. Like 15 seconds top haha!” Val laughs.

“Man you gotta just share it and she holds it! Amateur Hour over here,” James shakes his head.

“Yea mannnnn haha. I don’t know if I am mobile tonight, I don’t think I can get up for a while. I’m so faded…. Wake me up if I fall asleep out here,” Kobe says, remembering the time everyone went to the beach, locked the doors and woke him up at 4AM with a communal shot.

“Ok Val, let’s put this case in the freezer and bounce.” James says finishing his Corona.

“You want to hit this? Its reeeeally good,” Val giggles.

“Naw man, you know I don’t smoke and drive. I’m still feeling it from the beach, anyways. Haha… You don’t even know where this place is. We gotta check that tourist map,” James says.

“Yeah, you check it. My brain is taking a siesta right now…” Val squints and grins.

They pass out a few more brews, even to skint-ass Mike and grab the Malt icebergs and giant plastic squeezy handles.

The kitchen is much quieter than during the Iron -ic Chef competition, where seesaw dull knives were swinging between tomatoes for pico de gallo and a burros-worth of limes for dranks. Everyone was sasiating there salivary glands after the long day on sand. The usually crammed fridge was trolling for some Air BnB’s as most of the BBQ sauces, Texas Pete’s and the aloof ranch were postin for a fortnight. A figurative cornucopia of veggies was 1/2 chopped, 1/6 turned and ⅓ defrosted. That back of the fridge can be cooler than a polar bear’s toenail.

“Yayyyyy!” was enthusiastically shouted in stuffed face unison.

“Hey what took so long, guys?” Sara squeaked out, half a sloppy-joe looking burrito in her vice grip.

“You know James had to butter the cupcake. The juice is loose! Ahhaha I just thought of that. I need to write it down!” Val laughs in almost falsetto.

“Bitch, shut up! Yeah I was chatting with girl working at 7. She always hooks it up. So ask Val to go next time. Yep!” says James pointing at the cases.

“Hahaha yeah Valentino. You go!” Megan jokes at her now sheepish looking boyfriend.

“Ok here are the 2 Captains. Put this one case of beer in your room Megan. Val’s laaaaaadies… need some. Wink. Wink. Haha. We can put everything else in the fridge.” James says.

Shila busts out laughing and Carley starts to poke Megan in the side.

“Carly quit it!” Megan gasps, holding Carly’s wrists now.

“Val better be a good boy, right Val….. We have tickets to go to Maui, but I can just take Shy.” threatens Megan.

“I know these girls. They won’t be laying down anywhere. They drink Tequila like coffee. Haha. Don’t worry babe,” soothes Val.

“Ok player, get that case, and help me,” James asks.

The freezer was half full with about 9 gangrene, about to burst roadies. These already had their asses blown out, so they could only roll on the Formica. The Captain and a few new hires were granted Ice Bar VIP. The rest, cheese drawered.

“Hey where did these Budweisers come from?” says Val.

“Oh my God! We forgot to tell you!! Noelani saw those Chinese students outside with this case of beer. They were looking for you James!!” Sara blurts out.

“What?!? Those kids who stopped to watch me and Mark skateboard over that fucking exercise bike! No way!” James says in disbelief.

“Yeah they were looking for you to give you the beer, because they were happy to meet you and liked hanging out here.” Sara replies.

“Thats crazy! They watched us kickflip that old janky thing Mark found in one of the rooms. I said come party with us some night. They really bought this? Are you serious?” James asks wide eyed.

“Who knows? Maybe that's what they do in China? Hahah! Let’s go there Shy!!” Megan laughs.

“I think they really didn’t understand English! Only the two kids were talking and everybody else was giggling…… Wait! Are they coming back?!?” James asks excitedly.“ That would be amazing and so funny!! We can take them to the clubs!!” Val says.

“Wow! So fun… But we should not drink the Budweiser just in case. Only at the end if they don’t come.” states James.

Everyone starts laughing and speculating what they would do if they came. Plans and arrangements start to get absurd. There is a soft knock on the door. A faint whiff of CK One and super expensive conditioner waft into the salsa and cerveza clima. James’ smile and buzz percolate into a gum flashing smile. A “Hello Nicole.” wafts out before he starts to turns around.

She is a vision, part Yahweh’s angel and part Victoria’s angel. Straight blond locks, always a few flyaways, curtain calls her collar bone. Perfect GMO Cali whites. A smile as big as her heart. Refractive mute pink lip gloss that says I like what I like. A plunging neckline that repels to a taut tummy. Some tiny amputated dungarees that shape and lift things that don’t need it. She is that Cali girl with a brain and that laugh.

“Hey sweetie! I thought you went to pick up Val’s friends. I was a little jealous.” Nikki says feigning a pout.

“Noooo. I was waiting for you before, and we just went on a seven run…. Jealous about what?” James asks.

“Well Liz and I have the flight to Maui in a few hours, so you will be with these new girls the whole weekend.” Nikki frowns.

“Yeah we can’t go out with you the flight is at 10. So we are already packed.” Liz says.

Liz is about the totally atithetical model of Nik. Unruly brown curls act as a mane for soft Italianese features. Big brown eyes that only come up to Nik’s shoulders. Curvy and opinionated, she is the more rational and conservative or the pair. She also has a boyfriend back at Notre Dame, which does not preclude some topless wilding. 100% They will be on that flight, sauced or not. She starts asking Val about calling Taxis.

Nikki comes inside and kisses James and clasps her arms are his thin waist.

“Baby you know you don’t have to worry about me. I think I’ll never meet someone like you, like never ever.” quotes James as he gets those familiar butterfly feels.

“I trust you about girls, but I worry that you will get really wild. I know you want to show them a crazy party.” Nikki brow furrows.

“I know sometimes I get too excited and do crazy things. You are trying to help me and I really want to do it for both of us.” James confesses.

“Yes I know. You are like my kid. Haha. I have Megan watching you and Val. He makes you more wild.” Nikki squints. “Do not drive the scooter tonight… I mean it!”

“Well we have to pick those girls up now. I’m fine to drive. And anyways, we are taking a taxi babe. So really don’t worry. Just call me right when you land.” James asks.

“Ok. We are staying in a really nice hotel. I wish you were sleeping next to me not Liz.” Nikki pines.

“We will plan a trip here and we will ask Shy to borrow her car and camp on the beach for some days. Just us. No Liz. No Val.” James grins.

“Hahah you are joking, right. She will never. She already thinks we stole her car and had lots of sex in it.” says Nikki in disbelief.

“Oh man. Yeah they were mad for days… I shouldn’t have told them I took it to the beach not the store. With you. Hahaha.” James says.

“It was amazing with the full moon and no clothes! Don’t worry we will do something when I’m back Honey.” Nikki reminices.

“Ok baby, I think we have to go soon. I’ll be a gentleman. Promise! I’m going to miss you so much. Your cuddles.” says James with a puppy dog face.

“I was missing you in the shower. Mmmm. I know you will be good because of what I’m going to do when I’m back.” Nikki whisper in his ears. A little parting bite to remember her by.

“Exactly, I’ll be in the bed when you walk in…. With flower petals everywhere!” James promises.

They hug tight and kiss deep, until Val and Liz shouts “Soooooo gross! Get a room!”

Like that, they go their separate ways. Liz and Nikki to take their luggage and call a taxi. Val and James to grab their bike keys and jet. They rendezvous at James’ door and walk to the bikes.They are already late but firmly on Aloha Time, so no rush. They saddle up and walk the bikes back.

“Val are you ok to go? You smoked a lot of that kush. We should go slow.” James advises.

“Haha yea… That stuff was good. I think it will be like Playstation driving there haha. I‘m straight dude, but you def need to find the hotel. I’m just gonna follow you bro.” Val says lackadaisical.

The taillights fade.

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