#or as i like to call them: the autrys

[mercurygray]

watching the rain forrrrr Fred & Brady?

Oh, this was a good one. Thank you for giving me an excuse to write them!!

It was bound to be quieter, out here with the rain.

She hadn't joined the Red Cross to be the center of attention - it was true enough that you got some of that being one of four girls in a truck, but that wasn't the same as having the spotlight on you for an unscheduled one-woman episode of Command Performance using a borrowed guitar.

Sadly for her, though, it looked like her usual seat was already taken. John Brady rose from one of the crates, his pipe giving him an almost patrician air. "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't think there'd be anyone out here," Fred said, turning to go back inside.

"Plenty of room here for whoever wants it," Brady offered, gesturing to a second crate with his pipe. "If you don't mind a little company, that is - or the smoke."

"Reminds me of home, actually," Fred said, smoothing down her jacket and sitting down. Her grandfather had smoked a pipe - usually out on the fire escape, so the apartment wouldn't smell too awful. The smell of it calmed her. "It was getting a little loud in there for me."

"The sound of earnest appreciation," Brady said with a smile. "You made that guitar sound better than Jimmy does."

Fred blushed. It had been Curt's idea, because wasn't it always? Now, now - I think I'm owed a little treat for making it home in one piece, eh? Now where's - where's Fred? I wanna hear her sing me something. I know she's got a real sweet voice and we ain't all heard it yet.

She'd tried to beg off but Curt wouldn't take no for an answer, so they'd chivvied her up on stage, and Jimmy Hobart had handed over his guitar and pulled a stool out, and she'd tuned it up and asked Curt what he wanted to hear. Somethin' nice, he'd said with a grin. Somethin' sweet.

She wasn't about to go singing him a love song, so she'd pulled out one of those cowboy ballads she thought she'd be singing so often, I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences, Gaze at the moon till I lose my senses, Can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences, Don't fence me in.

She'd done that one, and another by Gene Autry, until Egan had joined in and gotten the whole club singing, and then Hobart had come back and she'd been able to sneak out the back door, back to the rain and the smell of Brady's pipesmoke.

"Not all of us studied music in college, Lieutenant Brady."

"You know, I wouldn't mind if you called me John," he offered quietly. "Curt's not Lieutenant Biddick, is he?"

Well, Fred, you walked into that one. "Curt excels at making himself an exception. There are rules I'm supposed to follow - and up until I got here I was pretty good at it."

"What do you think changed?" Fred looked over at Brady and found he was watching her with careful, considerate eyes - an armchair philosopher with his pipe.

She snorted and looked out into the night at the rain. It was a good question - what had changed? She was still the same person who'd left Madison twelve months ago - still had the same parents, the same college degree, the same training. Was it this place, or these people? The answer came back very unannounced, and she smiled to herself about it. "Apparently flyboys are very persuasive."

Brady chuckled. "On behalf of my fellow flyboys I will accept that compliment. So do you have any other tricks in those uniform sleeves of yours, Miss Fred? You dance, you sing, you play the guitar, you charm hardened pilots out of their seats, you make excellent donuts and a hell of a good cup of coffee. Is there anything you don't do?"

Now it was her turn to laugh out loud. "I also play a pretty good game of cribbage."

He didn't have time to respond to that, because just as she'd said it the door was opening again and Curt, listing a little bit to starboard, joined them outside. "John Brady, are you getting my best girl a drink?"

Brady sat up a little straighter, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "I can be, if she needs one."

"Hey, what is your drink, by the way?" Curt had turned his attention to Fred. "The next time I phone in I'll know what to ask for."

"A whiskey soda." Fred looked over at John, a little impressed.

Curt clapped him on the shoulder. "He remembers! See, this is why you're never gonna leave us, Fred, because we spoil you. And do you know why? Because we know a good thing when we see it. And you, Fred, are a very, very good thing."

"Maybe even the best thing?" Fred asked, getting up from her crate. Duty called - somewhere in her mind she could see the shift supervisor tapping her wrist. She'd danced too long with the same soldier, and there was no more time for quiet.

Curt was laughing at that, pulling her back inside and saying something about the jitterbug and showing Blakeley what was what and who was who. And Fred couldn't help but notice the feeling of Brady following them, resuming his seat on the stage and his clarinet, the smell of rain and his pipesmoke lingering on her jacket.

[kitclock]

Interview with Christi Haydon-Wilson - 10/26/14 (source)

Early Work With Ron and Russell Mael

Monte: How did you come to work with Sparks?

Christi: I was working in Bullock’s Department Store in Los Angeles, which is no longer in existence. This was 1986. I was working at the Estee Lauder cosmetics counter. The other girls who worked at the cosmetics counter would always ask me, “have you noticed that the singer from Sparks is always coming in here?” I knew who he was, but I never saw him!

One day I came back to work after a day off and one of the girls said, “oh my god, the singer from Sparks left a package for you.” It was a 45 record, Music That You Can Dance To, and Russell just said, “I really like your looks. Please give me a call.” I gave him a call, and we ended up on the phone for two hours, we hit it off really well. He and Ron were looking for a female singer, or perhaps a girl group to produce, and we started working on music together with them writing for me, and it turned into a really long friendship with the guys. We’re still really good friends now.

Monte: I was going to ask whether you still stayed in touch with them…

Christi: I do. When I gave birth to my daughter there were only three people that we invited to the hospital and they were two of them. They were also at Autry’s first birthday party, her fourth birthday party…they’re two of the nicest guys I've ever met.

Monte: That’s what a lot of the people I've talked to say. Not all, but the majority.

Christi: They mainly want to be known for their music, and the stories that go with the music. The stories I have about time with them aren't at all embarrassing, they’re really charming. But a big part of our (friendship) is mutual trust. They know I won’t be telling embarrassing stories about them. They really just want to be known for their music.

Monte: It must have been a productive period. Katherine Hepburn – what a great song! Did you have higher hopes for that? Were there additional recordings made that they produced?

Christi: Yeah, we did some recordings and we shopped it around. I got in the door with Simon Fuller, who manages Annie Lennox among other cool people. I got in the room with some really cool record labels in England. As a matter of fact the first trip to England I took by myself, Ron and Russell paid for me to go. I remember literally Russell typed out a sheet of paper for me and said, “these are all your meetings! You’ll do great!” So now the Mael brothers shipped me off to London to start meeting with record labels.

It’s unfortunate (though), it was kind of a “lose-lose” situation because what happened was, doors were opening obviously, because people knew that Sparks produced me, but if Sparks had written for me like they wrote for themselves, there was no way I was going to get a record deal. I mean THEY have had times when it was hard to get a record deal, because they are just so ahead of their time. So people would hear what they had written for me and it actually sounded fairly commercial. It was still interesting, had a lot of musical integrity, but way more palatable than anything they would do for themselves. And people hear that, and I know it was a disappointment to them. The feedback we would keep getting was, “it’s too commercial.” So what does that mean? Too radio-friendly? Too hit-like?

It was too commercial for Sparks, but I wasn't supposed to be Sparks. But if it wasn't avant-garde like Sparks are supposed to be, there’s no way people were going to go for it.

Performing

Monte: When you performed as a member of Sparks, you were playing percussion, along with the electronic pre-recorded music on stage. How did that work? Did you have any freedom with your parts?

Christi: I had no freedom! It was pretty stressful. Sparks’ songs are very precise, and not a lot of room for improvisation. They know what they want to have happen.

So, the States, you had to have a musician on stage to represent every instrument. The nice thing about England (at that time), I guess because of the dance music craze at the time, it seemed like as long as you were honest about it, if some of your stuff was coming off the computer, that was fine. As long as the audience could see that, it wasn't communicated as bogus. So we had a fourth member on stage, and that was the computer.

I covered a lot of percussion, but there was no way I could cover all of it.

We did MTV Most Wanted live, and we did six or seven songs, and all these faxes were coming in while we were performing. We’d take breaks during commercials, and they would come and read some of the faxes to us. For every fax where they mentioned me and said something great, there would be that fax that said, you know, “where’s Dinky Diamond?”

I don’t have a problem with that. I totally get that. It’s either going to be their thing, or they’ll accept it or they won’t accept it. I mean, I was a chick in a ballroom gown, and I was covering percussive parts but I wasn't covering every drum part. I didn't have a kick drum, I wasn't doing big-ass drum solos.

Monte: Did you have formal training as a percussionist?

Christi: I was literally groomed to play the parts. They were producing me as a singer. The thing I love about them is that they just have these cool ideas and try to make them happen. I had always wanted to learn to play the drums. I’m a rhythmic person and I just thought, what a cool thing to be able to do so I jumped all over it.

I did have training. I was trained by a really great drum coach in Los Angeles. A lot of money was spent on getting me those lessons. They wanted me to be good. They hadn't performed in a long time, so this was a pretty big deal – who is in the band? What do they look like? So there was a lot of pressure.

It was a funny way to be trained. I literally knew their stuff. That was my training.

Monte: You were trained on the spot.

Christi: My drum instructor had never heard of Sparks before. He had no idea who they were. He’d look at me sometimes and it was like, “how am I going to teach you to play this stuff?”

Monte: So it wasn't a matter of learning the rudiments of drumming and moving on from there, it was more a matter of, “here’s the song; what do I do?”

Christi: Yeah. It was tricky because I was only using my hands. I didn't have the luxury of four limbs covering a bunch of beats; it was two limbs covering a lot of beats – a lot of unusual beats.

One of the hardest songs for me to learn was At Home, At Work, At Play. Just listening to that song is a little bit challenging! It’s a wonderful song, but there’s a lot going on.

Monte: What were others that were a challenge?

Christi: Number One Song In Heaven and Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth (which they performed as a medley) were challenging, at least how we performed them live. They were extremely repetitive and I’m pretty sure they lasted 12 minutes. My wrists were almost killing me and we had only gotten one song into the show!

Monte: So you enjoyed being in Sparks, but you ended up going in a different direction.

Christi: The main thing that puts the brakes on was deciding I wanted to have a child. It didn't take a lot of thought. I always wanted to have at least one child. It seemed like it was the right time. I fell in love and got married.

They would have continued having me in the band. We weren't even working on stuff for me at that point, it was more about me being in Sparks. We had taken a break from demo stuff with me and it was all about recording Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins (1994). They had a gold record in Germany so we were supporting the record. We were taking a break for the holidays, it was Christmas 1995, and I got married on December 2nd, 1995. I realized it was just hard for me to get excited about (Sparks stuff). It had nothing to do with the guys at all. It wasn't an easy decision but it was the right decision. Sometimes doing the right thing isn't easy.

I couldn't get a record deal, but I could get pregnant!

Monte: Well, it was only a short time that you toured with them, but you won a lot of people over. People seem to have a soft spot in their heart for you.

Christi: Why do you think that is the case?

Monte: They hadn't toured for a while, and they came up with this very new presentation without a band, and they had a new vision and you were a big part of it. You helped make that happen. You were musically making a lot of great contributions. You had a very striking appearance, and then you had a great song. They performed Katherine Hepburn on their last tour.

Christi: It was a great song. I think all that translated – a lot of people had a built-up romance, especially in Germany, where both of our videos (from Gratuitous Sax) were shown there – When I Kiss You (I Hear Charlie Parker Playing) and When Do I Get To Sing My Way. Both of them have a running theme where Ron is getting left out – Russell is getting the girl and I’m the girl. People had a lot of fun with that, I think, wondering “oh is there something going on with these three?” and also, because I felt so grateful and joyful to be part of Sparks, I think that translated. That can be contagious, when you know someone is enjoying their job.

Monte: The My Way video is my favorite Sparks video. It’s so well done – maybe that’s another reason people have that soft spot in their heart.

Christi: I love that video too. Sophie Muller is an amazing director – she’s so good, a hoot to work with. I remember that little boy in the video – he hated my kissing on him! At one point I said to him, “listen kid, someday you’re going to think you’re the luckiest guy on the planet!” But he was like, ahh, a woman kissing on me!

Mai The Psychic Girl

Monte: I believe you were involved in the Mai the Psychic Girl project (this was Ron and Russell’s film adaptation of the eponymous Japanese anime comic which never came to fruition – despite years of effort by Ron and Russell).

Christi: I was Mai The Psychic Girl (for the demos). We’re talking two hours of music. That movie was going to be wall-to-wall sound. It was literally going to be all music and spoken dialogue with music, and breaking into song as well. It went through a lot of incarnations. A lot of big directors were attached but it just never saw the light of day. We had Francis Ford Coppola, we had Tim Burton…

Monte: I never knew about Coppola.

Christi: We never met with Coppola, but the higher-ups at Zoetrope were the ones meeting with us and speaking on his behalf. The intent was for Francis to direct, but they were saying that even if he didn't direct, it would still be with (Coppola's studio) Zoetrope, and they would help get a director attached.

Then there was Darrell Roodt, the South African director who directed Saraphina!, he was very interested in directing. That one (also) fell through.

Monte: Do you think it will ever see the light of day? It seems like they are still interested in it.

Christi: I could see it happening. I’d be kind of shocked if it happened, but we all cared about that project so passionately that there will always be a push there, I think. Even now, if you heard the music, there’s no way it sounds dated. It is so unique. It’s crazy, I’m not sure they still have the rights to that comic book. Larry (Wilson, husband and oft-time collaborator with Tim Burton) put 10 grand up every couple years, to keep the rights to that comic book. He finally let it go.

But you know what’s interesting on the demos, Jane Wiedlin is on them, and Lance Loud – he’s so funny. A good friend of ours. He was an amazing guy. A great writer and a great musician. He was with The Mumps…a real character and a lot of fun to be around. Everything his character was supposed to say – he was playing a snot-nosed German kid – and everything coming out of his mouth was hysterical.

[beebobeebo]

Title: Tim from Nowhere

Fandom: Justified

Characters: Raylan Givens & Tim Gutterson

Summary:

Tim isn't from anywhere, over there, or somewhere.

He's from nowhere. He likes everyone to think that at least. The little bits and pieces that form a life are his business.

"I asked you where you were from a while ago."

"Yeah. Was there for the whole conversation you had with me," Tim stresses the last word as he tries to casually look around for the fugitive du jour, Jenkins Prater, possible witness, failure to appear, and general dickhead. Raylan becomes sulking eyebrows. His face becomes eyebrows. A handy fuckin' trick, but it's getting him exactly nothin'. "I answered you. You remember that?"

"You said 'nowhere'. That ain't an answer," Raylan says as the rest of his face escapes from his eyebrows. "Unless, this is you being funny, and you lived in a town called that."

"Like that place in Alaska named Hell? Nah. It was more of a general statement." Tim pushes back the baseball cap that would make him appear vaguely incognito if Gene Autry wasn't sittin' in the driver's seat.

"You gonna clarify or leave me in suspense?" Raylan pushes back his hat too, because he is an ass, and leans forward over the steering wheel. Doubts as to how he catches anyone without shooting them have arisen. There's half a beat where Tim thinks about loudly commenting how he's sweating his nuts off because someone parked them directly in the sun, but he relents. "Longest place we ever stayed was Indiana. We didn't stay anywhere long enough to be from there."

"Army brat?"

"Not until I signed on at eighteen. Just the normal kind before that. Freelance." He leans forward like he's messing with the radio. "Does that guy look like he's trying to sneak around the…oh, no…Just pissin' in an alley. You take me to the classiest places, Givens."

"It's not my fault you're a cheap date," Raylan says through something like a grin if his jaw would just let it happen. "So movin' around a lot? You're not from nowhere. You're from lots of somewheres."

"I can categorically say that Oklahoma is nowhere regardless." Tim watches the man wander back out of the alley and resist the urge to wave, possibly salute. Resisting. "Missouri isn't much better, but you could get fully leaded beer on Sunday."

"As a freelance brat?" Raylan is now just looking at him. It's not like they have a job to do or anything. Tim looks at him out of the corner of his eye and sighs."You never played 'Hey, Mister'?"

"Is this goin' to be a traumatic backstory situation?" Raylan's jaw seems to slide too far to one side as he tilts his head.

"No, dipshit, you just have someone older, the Mister in question, buy you beer or a bottle. Let them keep the change." Tim takes his cap off and pushes back his hair. The heat is making the damned curls rebel against his best efforts. "Then you go find somewhere to forget you're in Missouri."

"So teenage Tim is in Missouri. Forming a timeline here." Raylan does bother to peek up for a moment to possibly see the man they're looking for.

"Teenage Tim was nowhere." Very adult, okay, relatively adult Tim was in Kentucky wishing he had kept his mouth shut. "Teenage Raylan was in Harlan, so I doubt he was doin' much better."

"You're not wrong." This time one of Raylan's nostrils quirks up with his eyebrows. "I'm assumin' you hatched somewhere equally as borin'."

"Ruined the shit out of Mama's senior homecoming dance," Tim says with the perfectly schooled expression he would never admit to practicing. He gives Raylan the benefit of a slightly lifted eyebrow to show he's telling the truth.

"So you were born a cautionary tale? This," he rolls his wrist to gesture at Tim's entire person," was always a warning."

"I believe the chosen term varied from miracle to accident, but, sure, warning."

"Where was that?" Raylan says flipping down the visor obviously more for the sake of fidgeting than actually looking at himself. The man was well aware of what he looked like.

"Indiana."

"So you're from Indiana," Raylan explains like he is more qualified to determine this than Tim.

"I'm not from there. I was born there. Very different things," Tim says. He feels suddenly defensive. He rolls his shoulders. Shame is fine, but defensive feels wrong. Why the fuck did he care what Givens thought? Especially that place? "Kinda left a stain on the place."

"The gym floor?"

That was just the right thing to say, damn Givens. He really can't help himself as he laughs. "The fact that I can't shoot a basketball for love nor money ain't lost on me."

Raylan finally smiles that easy smile with enough teeth to make a great white jealous. "No sports?"

"Nah. I was a reader," he says the last word as if it is dripping with disappointment. "Made me real popular in Buffalo."

"New York?" Raylan looks like Tim in New York would cause some sort of incident. He's not entirely wrong, but Time Square has also cleaned itself up since then.

"Nah, South Dakota. You know they're actually bison, not buffalo. No one ever gets that right."

"That's because no one cares, Tim."

Suddenly, Raylan grabs Tim's thigh and Tim's brain blanks completely until he hears," That's our guy. Running down the street from the probable sociopath." Raylan rolls down the window and leans out gun pointing at the man in pursuit. "U.S. Marshal Service on the ground!" The man in pursuit turns tail and runs down an alley. Good luck with your piss shoes, buddy. Prater is still hurtling down the street in their direction, the lesser of two evils.

Tim comes back to the world of the living in time to swing his door open. Prater smacks into it at a full run. "You learn that in nowhere?" Raylan says through a smile.

"Arkansas, actually. That was a rough summer."

"Seems like it," Raylan says as he somehow extricates three people's worth of leg from the driver's side. "Mr. Prater, you have had an accident. Fortunately, we with the U.S. Marshals Service were lookin' to give you a ride anyway. Why don't you go ahead and put your hands behind your back?"

Tim leans back against the headrest as he lets Raylan do his little one-man show. He should get out. He should assist Raylan with getting the man in the backseat, or trunk if Raylan was feeling frisky. He should do a lot of things like keep his mouth shut and not wish that hand was still on his thigh.

Tim eventually stirs himself enough to get out of the car and open the back door for Raylan to shove Prater in and buckle him up.

"Out curiousity," Raylan drawls, "where were you runnin' to?"

Prater leans back in the seat. "Nowhere."

"Ah, you're in luck. Friend here's a native," Raylan says with a smile as Tim plonks down in the passenger seat. "Maybe he'll give us some directions."

[shiaazi]

Copenhagen,

DENMARK

Copenhagen, the vibrant capital city of Denmark, is a true gem of the Nordic region. This beautiful city is known for its stunning architecture, rich history, and vibrant culture. From the moment you arrive, you'll be captivated by the charming streets lined with colorful buildings and picturesque canals. Copenhagen is a haven for art and design enthusiasts. The city is filled with museums and galleries showcasing both contemporary and classic works of art. Copenhagen is not just about its beautiful sights. It's a city that embraces the concept of hygge, a Danish word that encompasses coziness, warmth, and contentment. Whether you're sipping a cup of coffee at a cozy café or exploring the vibrant food scene at the street food markets, you'll feel a sense of comfort and relaxation.

December 19 2022, I'm exploring the beautiful city, embracing the winter vibes and showing off my best winter fashion. I mean, you gotta stay warm and stylish, right? In one of my Instagram posts on, I shared some stunning photos of me in a double-breasted coat from THE ROW, off-white track pants from PANGAIA, and high-top leather sneakers from Autry. And let's not forget the gray carpenter beanie from LAUREN MANOOGIAN that completed the whole look. I was feeling myself, and I hope I gave you all some winter fashion inspiration! But here's where things took an unexpected turn. As I was exploring the city, I came across some pigeons. Now, I've seen pigeons before, but these ones were different. They were so friendly and not afraid of humans at all. I couldn't resist posing with them and making a cute face for the camera. I even squatted down to get a closer look at these adorable birds.

But then, something happened that caught me completely off guard. One of the staff members who was with me said, "Wow, they really aren't running away." And in that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if these pigeons had found something delicious to eat. So, with a mix of curiosity and excitement, I asked, "Is it delicious? What are you eating...?" And let me tell you, what happened next was absolutely unexpected and hilarious. I let out a scream! Yes, you heard that right. I screamed, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. These feathered creatures are a common sight in Copenhagen, just like in many other cities around the world. While some people may see them as a nuisance, I find them quite fascinating. Pigeons have a unique ability to navigate and find their way back home, even from long distances. It's incredible how they can adapt to urban environments and coexist with humans. If you visit Copenhagen, you'll often find pigeons in the city squares and parks. They add a touch of liveliness to the surroundings and can be quite entertaining to watch. So, if you're planning a trip to Europe, make sure to include Copenhagen on your itinerary. It's a city that offers a perfect blend of history, culture, and natural beauty. And don't forget to appreciate the pigeons that call this city their home. They may seem ordinary, but they are a part of the vibrant tapestry that makes Copenhagen so special.

[project1939]

Overview of Radio I listened to for Project 1952: 

Best Comedy: Fibber McGee and Molly. Always funny, a great cast of eccentric characters, and lots of running jokes... what’s not to like? (Honorable mention: Father Knows Best.) 

Best Variety Show: The Big Show with Tallulah Bankhead. Because I can never get enough Tallulah! 

Best Anthology Show: The Chase. Like most anthology shows, it can be hit or miss, but when it hits, it HITS. The best episode of the 332 radio shows I listened to in this whole project was The Chase’s “Long Distance.” It’s easy to find on Youtube- go listen to it!!  

Best Drama: Horatio Hornblower maybe? There weren't many dramas with recurring characters- most dramatic shows were anthology series like Best Plays, Lux Radio Theater, The Whistler, Suspense, etc...

Best Gameshow: You Bet Your Life. Groucho Marx constantly cracking ad-libs and one liners makes it worth a listen. (Honorable Mention: People are Funny. Getting people to humiliate themselves for money can be hard to listen to but entertaining.) 

Best News: Coverage of the Democratic National Convention. It was even more fascinating than I thought it might be. 

Best Children’s or Adventure: Space Patrol was silly fun. 

Best Western: Gene Autry's Melody Ranch. I'm not big on radio Westerns. but Autry's show has lots of good music in it.

Worst Show: Most of the radio shows I listened to were pretty decent, but I'll say Martin and Lewis. Jerry Lewis' voice can be grating on film and TV, but with no visuals to go with it, it was torture.

Best pitchman: Don Wilson on The Jack Benny Program. Good natured and funny, he’s the guy that started me on my journey to Jello mold obsession when Jello was the sponsor of the program in 1939. It was Lucky Strike cigarettes in 1952, which I used to smoke... but I didn’t give in to any cravings this time. 

Best male character: The Old Timer on Fibber McGee and Molly. His voice, his running jokes, the way he randomly calls Molly “daughter” all the time... He always makes me laugh. Always. (Honorable mention: Bud on Father Knows Best.) 

Best female character: Mrs. North on Mr. and Mrs. North. A fast-talking eccentric lady who is always one step ahead of both her husband and the detectives. (Honorable mention: Irma from My Friend Irma. Even if her lines aren’t always funny, her voice and delivery is!) 

Person I’d most like to marry: Tallulah Bankhead! Who else?! 

Best surprises: The time Marlene Dietrich was on The Big Show with Tallulah Bankhead. The Chase episode “Long Distance.” Betty Furness actually acting and playing a role on Radio’s Best Plays. Ethel Merman’s banter with Tallulah Bankhead. Tallulah Bankhead uttering the words “oven shrinkage” and calling herself Taluminum Bankhead...

Worst surprises: There was only one episode of Jason and the Golden Fleece and two episodes of Defense Attorney. Both shows were really good, and I wish I could have heard more of them. Half the cast of Father Knows Best changing after the summer break. Also, I loved Bergen and McCarthy in 1939, but in 1952 I sadly didn’t find them near as funny. 

List of Radio Shows: 

Lux Radio Theater 

The Big Show 

Gene Autry’s Melody Ranch 

Bergen and McCarthy 

Suspense 

People are Funny 

My Friend Irma 

Fibber McGee and Molly 

Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar 

You Bet Your Life 

Father Knows Best 

This is Your FBI 

The Great Gildersleeve 

Screen Guild Theater 

Our Miss Brooks 

Hopalong Cassidy 

The Mysterious Traveler 

Richard Diamond, Private Detective 

The Whistler 

Martin and Lewis 

Vintage Radio News 

Bob Hope 

The Phil Harris Alice Faye Show 

The Aldrich Family 

Mr. and Mrs. North 

The Jack Benny Show 

Perry Mason 

Meet Millie 

Gunsmoke 

The Chase 

The Doctor’s Wife 

Voice of Firestone 

Radio’s Best Plays 

Defense Attorney 

Democratic National Convention coverage 

Horatio Hornblower 

Betty Parry 

Bright Star 

Jason and the Golden Fleece 

Space Patrol 

My Little Margie 

[jerepars]

James loved Teresa even when she was hard to love, which made Teresa think the love they were both capable of had grown with them over time.

(This is in the same universe as Plant Sugar, set a little more than a year after that story. There are several things mentioned that call back to that story, so it’s best to read that first. However, this should still be readable overall even without it.)

[ejzah]

What if, Rosa runs into you-know-who, and he asks about Kensi and Deeks. Later, Rosa tells them about him, and she finds out who he is.

A/N: I’m assuming he who shall not be named is referring to Kessler (though personally I don’t think he’s quite worthy of the title based off of canon events).

***

Fancy Seeing You Here

Rosa leaned forward, examining the small placard attached at the bottom of a case displaying contemporary Native American pottery. Around her, her classmates milled around the Autry Museum, exploring a variety of clothes, artwork, and other objects.

“The detail is amazing, isn’t it?” a soft voice murmured and she jumped, turning to find a man looking over her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. “Sorry to startle you,” he added a little sheepishly.

Taking a step to the side to put some distance between them, Rosa offered a hesitant smile. “That’s alright.”

“Yes, history is an amazing thing, isn’t it?” he asked quietly, more to himself than to Rosa. She moved around to the other side, so they were facing each other and examined the next row of pots and vases. “I had a friend who was an artist. Such skill.”

“I paint and used to do pottery back in my home country,” Rosa offered.

“Really.” Rosa glanced up in time to see that he was no longer perusing the display, but rather her. “You know, you’re seem very familiar to me,” he continued, voice dropping slightly. His gaze was intense and Rosa felt a touch of unease creep up her spine even has his expression remained pleasant. “What’s your name?”

“Um, Rosa,” she answered again her better judgment.

“Rosa. Pretty name.” He tilted his head and then chuckled softly with a look of sudden understanding that didn’t seem completely genuine to Rosa. “I think I know your parents, Marty and Kensi.”

“Where do you know them from?” She took another step back.

“Oh, Kensi and I are old friends,” he explained, lingering on Kensi’s name just a little too long. He smiled reminiscently. “Mm, the memories. They told me all about their difficulties with having a child and how blessed they were to adopt you.”

“Yes, we’ve been very happy,” Rosa agreed, rubbing her arms as goosebumps trailed along her skin.

“Such a small world,” he mused. “Well, I should go. It was nice meeting you, Rosa. Tell your parents Dave says hi.”

Rosa watched him go, worrying at her bottom lip. She almost went to find one of the teachers chaperoning the outing, but stopped herself. What would she say? That a man who knew Marty and Kensi talked to her?

Rubbing her arms again, she went to join several girls she recognized from her class period.

***

Hey Rosalie,” Deeks called out when Rosa walked into the house around four in the afternoon. She offered a little smile, quietly heading for her room to put away her bags. She was probably exhausted after getting up earlier than usual to prepare for the field trip and longer than usual drives back and forth.

Kensi came home a couple hours later, in time for them to eat dinner as a family. While Kensi told about her day, Rosa remained unusually quiet, seeming distracted.

“Hey, everything ok?” he asked, gesturing to her mostly uneaten chicken.

“Oh, yes. Something kind of strange happened at the museum today and I can’t get it out of my mind,” she replied, shrugging it off. Kensi instantly stiffened with concern, her protective instincts kicking in as she carefully asked,

“What kind of strange?”

“This man started talking to me while I was looking at one of the displays.”

“A man,” Deeks repeated, voice rising. Kensi laid her hand over his, with a soft,

“Babe, let her tell us the whole thing.”

Folding her hands together, Rosa leaned forward, looking deeply uncomfortable. “He started talking about the art and then said I looked familiar. When I told him my name, he said he knew both of you. And tell you Dave said ‘hi’.”

“What did he look like?” Deeks asked, a nasty suspicious filling him.

“Um, he was shorter than you, brown hair, brown eyes too I think. His jaw was kind of narrow. To be honest, he looked very normal, but when he smiled…” She trailed off, shivering. “It seemed strange. Like he was hiding something.”

Beside him, Kensi grabbed her cell and typed something before handing it to Rosa.

“Is this him?”

“Yes,” Rosa confirmed softly.

“Oh my god,” Kensi whispered. Deeks clenched his fist under the table, furious at the thought of David Kessler being anywhere near Rosa. Let alone dozens of other kids.

“Did he do anything else?” Deeks asked and Rosa shook her head quickly.

“No, nothing. He just made me feel uncomfortable.

Well, at least that was a relief.

Rosa looked between them, eyes wide with confusion and rising fear. “Who is he? Is he a criminal?”

“His name is David Kessler,” Kensi answered.

“And yeah, he’s a criminal,” Deeks added bitterly. “With a vendetta against Kensi.”

“Oh,” Rosa breathed, face crumpling. Moving around the table, Kensi hurried to wrap her in a hug, whispering soft words of reassurance. Deeks followed more slowly, until Kensi reached for him and he embraced them both.

“It’s going to be ok,” he promised. “We’re going to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to get close to you again.”

***

A/N: I’m sorry that so many recent stories have resulted in men being creepy around Rosa.

I decided that Deeks eventually starts bestowing a variety of nicknames on Rosa too, but explaining it didn’t quite fit into the story.

[michaels-blackhat]

So You’re Feeling White Guilt and You Don’t Know What To Do

I’m not going to rehash the most recent Roswell New Mexico fandom news. I’m not going to rehash any of the difficult and necessary conversations surrounding race and racism that have been happening over the last week. They are important, they shine an important light on fandom racism, and they have caused many to reflect on their own unconscious bias and how it has manifested itself in fandom. That’s important. That is the constant work of an ally: to reflect on your bias and your actions and take steps to inform yourself and do better. As participants in a racist society and a culture that tries to say that racism is only an overt, obvious thing, we must always take the time to listen to others and change our own behavior.

This post isn’t necessarily about that either. It’s about how you can do other, small things, for yourself to help a community and individuals who are continuously mistreated, whose suffering is continuously erased, and whose culture is continuously stolen. Political involvement is always an option, but it’s also not always possible. I know for myself, I work two jobs that leave me with 14 hours days multiple times a week, and only one day off a week to relax, do household chores, and prepare for my grad school classes. I can exercise my right to vote, right to assembly, etc. but sometimes doing more isn’t a viable option.

So what else can I do?

Below I have accumulated links to different relief funds, bail funds for protesters, language programs, native artist collectives and stores, musicians, and conservation project.. Some of the links will take you to a larger project that you can explore. Some of the links will be for direct donations. This is not exhaustive. This is limited to what I’m able to find and authenticate to the best of my ability. But I wanted to put this out into the world, as an example of different ways you can support people, cultures, and communities. I invite anyone to add on to the list, particularly people who are Native American. 

Special thanks to @jocarthage​ for being an amazing resource and adding to my already long list. And @litwitlady​ for the bookstore link. Additionally, I was writing this and realized how long this got, so I started limiting to two or three links per area. Please, add on.

Relief Funds:

An article from Navajo Times that highlights different Coronavirus relief funds, including the Navajo Department of Health, John Hopkins Center for American Indian Health, relief for families and children, and Food Baskets for Elderly.

https://navajotimes.com/coronavirus-updates/relief-for-coronavirus/

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Bail Fund:

A thread on the O’odham land & water protectors: https://twitter.com/LaikenJordahl/status/1315707808470503427?s=20

And the bail fund: https://t.co/yzyDnEi0x6?amp=1

Generally, the National Bail Fund Network’s twitter page is a good place to go to keep up about bail funds for protesters for many leftist causes. They also help with immigration detention and the cause to end money bail in general. https://twitter.com/bailfundnetwork?lang=en

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Language Programs:

https://www.firstnations.org/projects/native-language-immersion-initiative/ : The Native Language Immersion Initiative aims to build the capacity of and directly support Native American language-immersion and culture-retention programs. They work with the National Endowment for the Humanities, along with support from the Lannan Foundation, Kalliopeia Foundation and the NoVo Foundation. The linked website has the list of grantees from the previous years, so you can go and explore the different language programs that have benefitted from the initiative. The NLII aims to support the cultural and linguistic preservation of all Indigenous Americans, including Native Alaskan and Native Hawaiian cultures.

The website also allows you to explore their programs, learn more about topics such as environmental justice within native communities, and donate directly.

Duolinguo has short courses in both Navajo and Hawai‘i. They’re not perfect, but they’re a good starting point. Spending some time getting used to the sounds and cadences can be really grounding in the realities of the language and grammar (and if everyone who read our fics downloaded it, it would give Duolingo a strong indicator of interest in these languages, which might encourage them to invest in making them full courses).

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Art & Clothing & Holiday Presents:

Art and clothing are grouped together, as a lot of the websites feature both.

Beyond Buckskin: https://shop.beyondbuckskin.com/

A shop/collective started by a member of the Turtle Mountain Chippewa tribe. They have a variety of products and you can learn more about their individual artist. They also have events, news, and a lot of cool things to explore on their website. 

+their buy native list: 

http://www.beyondbuckskin.com/p/buy-native.html

b.Yellowtail: https://byellowtail.com/pages/about-us

The clothes are designed by Bethany Yellowtail, a Northern Cheyenne & Crow fashion designer. The art and jewelry are made by hand by a collective of Native Americans, First Nations, and Indigenous creatures throughout North America.

SheNative: https://www.shenative.com/

A shop that primarily focuses on leatherwork, but does have other products as well. The aim of the company is to empower Indigenous women, so Idigenous women work on all levels of the manufacturing of the products. Additionally, they donate at least 10% of profits towards causes and charities that aim specifically to help Indigenous women.

Etkie: https://etkie.com/

This collective of Native American artists all hail from New Mexico. They specialize in beaded cuffs, all of which are gorgeous. Personal note, I very much want the Dawn Glass Cuff.

There are a lot of people who sell Native American art who are not, in fact, Native American people. Here are some sources:

The Indian Pueblo Store is owned and operated by New Mexico’s 19 Pueblo tribes. Find our physical location at the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center in Albuquerque https://www.indianpueblostore.com

The bookstore in the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian has one of the best collections of books about Native American life, by Native American authors, anywhere we’ve found (if you become a member for $25 a year, you get their excellent quarterly magazine) https://americanindian.si.edu/store

Weirdly for a museum named for a man famous for playing a white cowboy in American movies, the Gene Autry museum in Los Angeles has one of the other really good collections of books by Native American authors on modern Native American life, as well as historical books: https://shop.theautry.org/collections/books

I haven’t been, but the Heard Museum gets recommended a lot and their shop has a lot of authentic Native American pieces: https://www.heardmuseumshop.com/

Birchbark Native Arts seems to have an extensive collection: https://www.birchbarknativearts.com and is associated with the bookstore mentioned below

Note from JoCarthage: In 2016 I drove to all 58 counties in California and started my collection of books on Native American tribes living and working in California, both as research for what I thought might be a book and because I was curious. A lot of the books I found are not on Amazon, you can only buy them in reservation book stores or National Park bookstores or little county museum bookstores. When the world opens back up again, that is a good process I have found for building my own understandings. 

It’s not a perfect system, but when you’re shopping, look for the term “Authentic Native American artworks” and a seal like this one; here is a longer guide to buying Native American art:

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Music:

Spotify & website links are provided. This is also limited to what I know and already listen to.

A Tribe Called Red: Website: http://atribecalledred.com/ | Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2jlWF9ltd8UtoaqW0PxY4z

Mary Youngblood: Website: http://www.maryyoungblood.com/ | Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0pRrf0i6X4uUIdzYrA2mDz

Buffy Sainte-Marie: Website http://buffysainte-marie.com/ | Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/5exO2eW84QucBhrRhcK76x

[Video: A Tribe Called Red’s “Burn Your Village to the Ground”]

Books:

Based on the theory that the best information is closest to the source, all of the books below are written by Native American authors; the bookshops are owned by Native America booksellers. 

Bookshops:

Birchbark Books, a bookshop in Minneapolis: https://birchbarkbooks.com/ They also have art, jewelry, and community events. When available, the links for the books below are provided through the store’s website.

Book Recommendations:

Nonfiction and hilarious: Custer Died for Your Sins, by Vine Deloria Jr (Standing Rock Sioux): https://birchbarkbooks.com/all-online-titles/custer-died-for-your-sins

Poetry: New Poets of Native Nations, edited by Heid E. Erdrich (Ojibwe): https://birchbarkbooks.com/all-online-titles/new-poets-of-native-nations

Novel (murder mystery): Chenoo, by Joseph Bruchac (Abenaki): https://www.oupress.com/books/14415530/chenoo

Poetry: When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry, edited by US Poet Laureate Joy Harjo (Muscogee Nation): https://birchbarkbooks.com/CatalogueRetrieve.aspx?ProductID=9713772&A=SearchResult&SearchID=11528255&ObjectID=9713772&ObjectType=27

Art book: First American Art, Edited by Bruce Bernstein and Gerald McMaster (Plains Cree and member of the Siksika Nation) https://americanindian.si.edu/store/books-and-products#1845

(The Mitsitam Cafe Cookbook: Recipes from the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian by Richard Hetzler (Not a Native American person but the recipes reflect a huge range of modern Native American recipes and are worth cooking through ) https://birchbarkbooks.com/CatalogueRetrieve.aspx?ProductID=9685880&A=SearchResult&SearchID=11528257&ObjectID=9685880&ObjectType=27)

Here is a selection of children’s books, YA, memoir and biography, and Native American fiction and poetry, Native studies, and Native language

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Diné and other Native American actors’ accounts to follow:

Why include fun social media stuff: because we’re humans and we like nice things. It’s very hard to keep learning about something that challenges our whiteness and privileges if everything we read and consume is painful and grim. It also fundamentally limits the stories we consume about modern Native American lives if all we do is wallow. So read good poetry, cook recipes that are shared freely, follow pretty actors on Instagram. When Jo went through her house to find the above book recommendations, 4 of them were on her Native American section, one in her poetry section, and one in her cookbook section. Native American stories and food and life are part of modern American life and integrated them into your bookshelves and menus and IG scrolling is a good way to stay aware and learn more osmotically.

Kawennáhere Devery Jacobs (kanien’kehá:ka from ⁣⁣⁣ kahnawà:ke mohawk territory⁣⁣⁣) https://www.instagram.com/kdeveryjacobs/?hl=en

Tatanka Means https://www.instagram.com/tatankameans/?hl=en

Jay Tavare https://www.instagram.com/jaytavare/?hl=en

Forrest Goodluck seems to not be active on social media, but he’s worth keeping an eye out for https://twitter.com/forrestgoodluck?lang=en

Check out more here, from pocfansmatter https://pocfansmatter.tumblr.com/post/632180141361119232/my-favorite-native-american-men

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News Sources:

Note: none of these are perfect. They all have their own biases, foci, and weirdnesses. But if you subscribe by email to a few of them, you’ll get a pretty good idea of what issues are important, generally.

Native America Calling: https://www.nativeamericacalling.com/

Navajo Times: https://navajotimes.com/

Indian Country Today: https://indiancountrytoday.com/

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Conservation:

A petition to close Mt Rushmore and to return public lands in the Black Hills to the Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fires of Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Nations). 

https://actionnetwork.org/petitions/petition-to-close-mt-rushmore-and-return-all-public-lands-in-the-black-hills-to-the-oceti-sakowin

From the site: “Standing in solidarity with our ancestors, families, our allies, and the Oceti Sakowin (Seven Council Fires of Lakota, Dakota, and Nakota Nations), we are calling on Director Bernhardt and Representative Deb Haaland to close Mt. Rushmore and return all Public lands in the Black Hills to the Oceti Sakowin as negotiated in the 1868 Treaty of Ft. Laramie, as Indigenous treaties are the supreme law of the land.”

The Kumeyaay people are currently protesting against the illegal destruction of their sacred lands to build the border wall. You can keep up with their work and support them directly through their twitter account.

https://twitter.com/kumeyaayprotest?lang=en

The Native American Land Conservancy aims to reacquire Native American land, particularly in Southern California, to preserve and protect sacred sites and areas. 

The group has a mix of board members from a variety of tribes, along with members who are not affiliated with a tribe but have a focus and background in environmental conservation.

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Thank you for sticking with us through this whole list. It’s long, yes, but it does not even begin to show even a small percentage of places and artists you can support.

And as for what to do about your white guilt? Live with it. It’s not going to help anyone if you express your guilt continuously. It’s not going to help anyone if you push it aside. Live with it. We benefit from a racist system and we should not forget it. Do what you can to help others, lend your voice in support of others. And for fuck’s sake remember that it’s not about us.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @claraxbarton donated $50, and requested Dean Winchester & Bucky Barnes. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

Curfew to get back to their bunks is 2200 hours but Carlisle's still trying to prove something and so Bucky's still out, too, because hell if he's going to let some jerk from Long Island out-drink a Brooklyn boy. "Think you're gonna fall asleep soon, punk," Carlisle says, grinning wide and loose and his eyes real red, and Bucky raises his eyebrows and knocks the next shot back. He doesn't rise to the punk thing even if he wants to sock the jerk one. See, Steve, he wants to say, but of course Steve's not here. Bucky sucks the inside of his cheek, not feeling the burn anymore after this much—maybe a bad thing—but he waves to the girl leaning against the bar, signaling for another. Becky, is her name, which caused some comment from Carlisle too. She's in a too-short skirt and Bucky knows from when Carlisle got a hand on her ass that she's not too worried about keeping the hemline down, giggling as she leans over and puts the next round on the table. Carlisle pulls her in by the hand, murmuring something in her ear that Bucky can't hear over the jazz from the jukebox but that she hears perfectly well, from how she giggles and leans in, her bosom squishing up and catching Carlisle's attention just fine. Bucky sighs, sits back. Maybe the competition's over, after all. He sips at the next shot instead of downing it, actually tasting the whiskey—crap, but better than he used to be able to afford back home—and ignores how Becky's showing off the top of her stockings, the peek of white thigh above them, and looks over the top of Carlisle's head at the lawyer-type who's been sitting toward the back of the jazz club, this whole time, watching them.

Hat on the table, a beer half-sipped at his right hand. A paper pad open, at his left. Doodling something. Bucky sips at his shot again and Becky's now in Carlisle's lap, her arms around his neck. The bar's emptying out, most everyone from boot camp gone home, and Bucky's maybe got a point to prove but he's tired of this. He knocks back the rest of his shot and then reaches out and takes Carlisle's, and kicks him under the table for good measure. "Hey!" Carlisle said, distracted from sweet Becky's plump white throat, and Bucky said, "Sorry, pal, you forfeit by way of boring me to death," and gets up from the table in a scrape of the chair on the wooden floor, and Carlisle starts to stand up but of course Becky's weighing him down and she says, "Hey, slugger, you're gonna leave me all alone?" and Carlisle's distracted, soothing, long enough for Bucky to walk away, toward the back of the bar, the shot still heavy in his hand. He wants to drink it but he wants something else, too.

Jukebox, in the back. He leans over it, flipping through. Glenn Miller, Gene Autry. He wonders who put on the run of Louis Armstrong—fourth song in a row, by his count—and in the corner of his eye he can tell that the lawyer-type is watching him, from the table right there, and doing a good job of pretending he isn't.

2200 hours. Bucky checks his watch. Ticking closer. He's not the most rule-abiding guy at the best of times but he knows he's been pushing it, with his sergeant, and if he's found out to be back late again then—well, it's latrine duty for sure, if not a full ten miler with all his gear. He sucks the inside of his cheek. Worth the risk? If he's thinking of going to Europe to fistfight Hitler, then what isn't?

"Hey, pal," Bucky says, turning, with this feeling in his gut like running into a fight in a back-alley in Brooklyn—but the lawyer's up, leaving his beer half-drunk on the table, walking past him to the hall where the WCs are. Bucky licks his lips. There's a doodle left on the table, a torn-out page from the guy's pad: some weird symbol that Bucky doesn't recognize, in heavy pencil-marks, sketchy and strange. He frowns, looking over his shoulder, but the door's swinging, and he's—sure, almost. He's gotten that kind of look, before. He's given it.

The hall's empty, but there's another door at the end, frosted glass, EXIT in reversed letters, just closing. An alleyway—well, hell. Bucky's done worse in worse places but the danger of it is leaping in his throat, now. The chances that someone might see, might catch his uniform in the dark, might—but he's a real knucklehead, it turns out, and he's pushing through the door, the glass of booze still clutched in his other hand, and then: the alleyway, and whatever's waiting, and… the lawyer nowhere to be seen.

He turns around, squinting in the mostly-dark. Trash bins, and a cat racing away out toward the streetmouth. Bucky steps forward, looking—wondering if he was seeing things he wasn't meant to be seeing, wondering if his stupid heart was manufacturing things that weren't there, like always—and—there, on the other side of the wooden gate, a glow. A candle? No: a… circle, somehow drawn on the alley wall like with fire. Strange symbols that he can't make out as he gets closer. They're bright but slowly fading and he reaches out, caught by the strangeness. No heat, as his fingers hover over the coal-flames. In the center, one of the symbols looks like a star, and he licks his lips and takes a deep breath and like an absolute knucklehead presses his hand flat against it and then –

*

"Of course I'm—look, I'm the one who had to haul his ass into the trunk, okay? And he's heavy as hell. So, thanks for sending me out here solo, by the way."

Bucky keeps his eyes closed, trying to keep his breath even. He's waking up slow, not like from a bad dream but from a deep, long sleep, and he hasn't had one of those since before basic—since before Joe moved back into Ma's house—since before he slept over at Steve's, when they were younger and Steve's mother was at the hospital, and Steve was snoring on his half of the bed but Buck was—well, it hardly matters. His head feels queer, memories close to the surface and hurting. He's laying on something soft.

The man starts talking again: "Dude, for the last time—yes, Sam, I'm sure. You know how many History Channel docs I've watched about Cap and the Commandos? There's some kind of federal law that it's all they show at noon on a weekday. Check the insignias from the uniform, I'm telling you. This ain't a reenactor, it's the real deal. Plus there was that Thule sigil still burning on the alley wall." A pause. Bucky doesn't know the half of what this guy's talking about. Thule? What the hell is a history channel? "Yeah. Hey—look, he's—okay. Call me when you find something."

Another pause. There's a shift, fabric rustling, and then a creak of bedsprings. "You want to stop faking? You're not that good at it."

"Says you," Bucky says, but he opens his eyes.

A room, like a hotel or something. Nighttime, from the dim, and a lamp making a pool of light between the two beds. He's on one, laid out on his back, and on the other, when he turns his head: a man, older than him, sitting on the side of the mattress, watching him. Bucky presses his lips together, looking. Not the lawyer type who gave him the slip in the alley and not anyone he's ever seen. The man's looking right back at him, studying his face, and then his eyes go skipping down Bucky's body, and Bucky's still wearing his uniform but he feels—"What's a Thule sigil?" he says, to cover up his reaction, and the man's eyes jump right to his and he grins, like Bucky's some circus pet that just did a trick he didn't expect.

"I think we better start with 101," the man says. Generic accent. Where are they? "Name's Dean. I'm a hunter. Sorry for kidnapping you, but you were passed out in an alleyway and I wasn't sure the cops would know how to handle a guy from 1943 who's—uh, you." He scratches the corner of his jaw—hasn't shaved in a few days, apparently—and then shrugs, and nods at Bucky. "Your turn."

"James," Bucky says. He surprises himself and blinks at the man. Dean. "James Barnes. Probably AWOL from my unit at this point, depending on what time is." Another grin, but this one more natural, and Bucky decides he probably doesn't want to sock the guy one. He starts to sit up but his head—ah. Woozy, the world tilting some, and Dean reaches out quick and grabs his arm, helping pull him upright. It hurts but not like getting punched, or the one time a guy coshed him over the head in an alley fight and he woke up to Steve grimly holding his brains together. More like a hangover but he didn't even have that much to drink. When he's up, boots on the floor, Dean sits back and just looks at him again, all over, and Bucky looks down at himself too like maybe there'll be something interesting to see. It's just him, though, in his uniform a little worse for wear for eating dirt in the alley, but Dean keeps looking at him like…

Dean's spinning something in his hand—a metal rectangle with a shiny glass face. He sees Bucky looking and grimaces, and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "Sorry," he says, "not sure we're ready to do the whole Back to the Future II thing, here," and Bucky doesn't know what that means, either, but then Dean says, "Here's the thing: it's 2013," and Bucky blinks at him and says, "Bullshit."

Dean's eyebrows go high. "Wow," he says, under his breath, "okay, so it really wasn't like the newsreels." Bucky stares at him. "Um," Dean says, and then says, "Shit, Sammy doesn't know everything, hang on—" and he picks up something from the bedside table between them and points it, and then there's a flashbang of color and light and… a man, talking about the stock market, in brilliant color and as vivid as Dean sitting across from him. "Don’t tell your pals in the unit about Wolf Blitzer, I don't want to create a time paradox or something where someone doesn't get born," Dean's saying, but Bucky just sits and stares, frozen on the bed. It's like… a marvel, from that World Fair they went to, something that Stark genius would think up. He gets up, finally, and Dean's quiet, and he reaches out and touches the glass and it sparks against his fingers, static, against where there's a box that says February 15, 2013, 9:57 pm. "Yeah, it's an old one. A television. I can't remember if you have those yet or not."

"Who are you, pal?" Bucky says, not turning around. The light hurts his eyes, it's so bright.

Dean sighs, behind him. The sound from the television goes away and Bucky touches it again, shaking his head, and Dean says, "James Buchanan Barnes. You go by Bucky. You're from Brooklyn." Bucky looks over his shoulder and Dean's looking at him—looking older, looking tired. "You joined the service in 1943. You're in the 107th and, from what I can tell, you haven't shipped out to Europe yet, because you were in an alley in Georgia, instead, and you haven't—" He gestures vaguely to Bucky's side, eyes dipping, but Bucky doesn't know what he means, and he's got this vague panicky feeling stuttering up in his chest. Like being caught at something only this time he hasn't done anything wrong.

Dean stands up. They're the same height, same build. Dean's dressed like a farmer, in denim pants and a plaid shirt untucked, but he doesn't carry himself like one. A hunter, he said, and Bucky braces himself. Hunting what? The door's too far away for him to lunge and make it before Dean could get there.

"I'm not here to hurt you, man," Dean says. He laughs, lightly, shaking his head. "Like, that's the last thing I want to do. You're Bucky Barnes. I can't—tell you what that means, I guess, but… It means something. But you're not supposed to be here."

"Where's here?" Bucky says, tightly.

"Well, seventy years out of place, for one thing," Dean says. His mouth curls up on one side. "Though I gotta say, you're hot for an old guy."

Bucky takes a breath, while Dean grimaces. "I feel like I just hit on George Washington or something," he mutters, eyes dropping to his boots.

"Even if you add seventy, I'm not that old," Bucky says, after a second, and he can tell he's coloring up but he's not—men don't—he's never, even in alleyways and in dark rooms and in the one dance club he ever got brave enough to go to, one night when Steve was staying up with his mother and Bucky was so strained in the heart he thought he'd crack in half, he never—out loud, he never.

Dean looks up. Calculation. He's a looker. Even back in the unit among all the guys, Bucky could say that and not have anyone question it. Brownish hair, green eyes, freckles like a kid from a sodapop advertisement but he sure doesn't look like a kid. A man, carrying himself like one, his muscles obvious in the blue plaid, his hands square and sure. Bucky looks at them instead of into Dean's face. He's never sure but now he's very not and he doesn't want to—so there are Dean's hands, on his hips, and his knuckles, and his clean neat nails. Safer to focus on than the insanity of what Dean's telling him—the future, Bucky thinks, again, the world wheeling off its track, where somehow some man in some hotel in Georgia knows who he is, and says he's hot. Howard Stark's World of Tomorrow couldn't possibly.

He steps forward. Dean's hands lift, low, cautioning, and Bucky licks his lips and walks into them, lets Dean catch his hips. "Whoa, sailor," he says, and Bucky says, "I'm in the Army," and then he picks up his head and kisses Dean, square on the mouth, heart leaping into his throat.

Brief, hard. He grips Dean's shoulders and they're—oh, shocking, hot and firm and real in a way that he's turned over by, half-convinced that it's a dream, but all his dreams have been insubstantial as air, gossamer that slips away when he tries to hold it. There's a burst of air, Dean exhaling hard through his nose, but his lips are—soft, his chin scratching against Bucky's, and after a second of stupid clenched-eyed hope Dean's hand slides up his side and he readjusts his head, tilts, makes the kiss… softer, easier, and Bucky gasps in air he didn't realize he was holding onto and Dean's mouth follows his, closing over his bottom lip and sucking very softly, and Bucky thinks out of nowhere without his brain having any say-so Steve, and he pulls away then, jerking so hard that Dean says, "Whoa, whoa, buddy—" and Bucky almost hits him but turns away, puts his hands over his face, breathes out hard and quick and tries to ignore how his lips feel oversensitized, burning.

There's a strange metallic sound while Bucky's heart is trying to beat out of his throat. It cuts off mid-racket and Dean says, "Great timing, Sammy," full of sarcasm, and Bucky drags his hands down over his cheeks, covers his mouth. Turns around, to face his stupidity like a man. Dean's holding the metal thing to his ear, apparently listening, but his eyes are fixed to Bucky's. "Oh, just traumatizing a war hero," Dean says, and then his attention shifts and he rolls his eyes, holding the thing away from his ear with this expression so what are you gonna do?, like a guy from the deli taking a call from his henpecking wife, that Bucky snorts. Dean smiles at him, easy, and puts it back to his ear in time to respond, "Yeah," and then, "Got it, okay—look, text it to me, I left my pen in Kansas," and takes it away and holds it in front of himself—another whirling flash of color, a picture of some man, and then Dean pokes a red circle and it goes quiet.

"So," Dean says. "Sammy knows how we can send you back. Gotta do it by midnight but that's no big deal, I've got the stuff in the trunk. Scary adventure's gonna be over soon, soldier. You'll have to worry about the AWOL thing on your own."

He's poking at things on the rectangle again. His thumbs move very quickly. Bucky's watching his face, downturned, apparently casual, except that his ears are bright blushing red.

"War hero," Bucky says, finally.

Dean's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks up under his eyebrows. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?" he says. Bucky shakes his head and Dean bites the corner of his mouth. His mouth. Bucky looks into his eyes instead. "Yeah. Look, I can't—tell you this stuff. I don't know if they had sci-fi in the 40s but you just… can't tell people their future, okay? It's a bad idea. You might change something, or do something, and you'd screw up time, and then, I don't know, giant vampire robots might take over Manhattan as soon as I send you back."

"Vampire—?" Bucky says, bewildered, and Dean groans.

"Forget that, too," Dean says—fat chance, Bucky thinks—and Dean shakes his head, sighing. "Look, all this… time travel crap is new for me, too. Didn't even know it could really be a thing before a few years ago, and I didn't know regular people could just smear some stuff on a wall and speak some mumbo-jumbo and just make it happen. And so—we found this record that an unexplained event had happened, on this day in Georgia, and Sammy—that's who was just on the phone—he said, well, go check it out, and he's faking like he's not sick so I just let him send me out on the errand, and then it turned out to be you, and I'm… babbling, this is embarrassing, but you're you and I gotta say, whenever we were kids, Sammy was Superman and I was Batman but when we played Commandos he had to be Cap because I always wanted—"

Dean cuts off, and now the red's in his cheeks as well as his ears, even if Bucky doesn't know what goes there. "So. I'll send you back, but." He lifts a shoulder. "I wish I didn't have to."

He looks real sorry. Bucky leans back against the dresser, with the silent television flashing colors by his shoulder. He tries to imagine it. Boys in some hazy, magic-screen future, playing at being him, the way the kids in the neighborhood play being Flash Gordon. It's too big to fit into his head. He says, instead, "So… we win, then." Dean frowns. "The war. We win? If… me and the commandos and whoever the Captain is, we all get to be heroes. We must win."

Dean licks his lips, and looks… guilty, as all hell. "Yeah," he says, voice strange. "Yeah, you win."

Oppressive, to hear it. Not relief but responsibility. Bucky nods, takes a deep breath. "Well, all right, then," he says. He smiles at Dean, his very best. "Then I think the big hero deserves another kiss."

Dean startles, and laughs, and Bucky grins until Dean's head drops. He swallows. The future, settling onto his heart; the past, roaring up to meet it.

[birdhaslostit]

🎁🎄❄️What the Lupin Gang would do for Christmas!❄️🎄🎁

Helloooooooo Lupin fans! You may or may not remember me as that one chick who made that Halloween headcanon post a few months back, as well as the Jigen’s bangs post. I’m back with a Christmas post!!!

Please note: Personally, I really only celebrate Christmas in a non-Jesus-y way. (Which is how I’m also writing this post, because let’s be honest, do you really think Lupin is going to confession and shit? Absolutely not.) It’s purely out of habit because I was raised Catholic, but I practice witchcraft now. My family doesn’t know that though. Because of this, I considered also making posts for other winter holidays, so I could include Lupin fans that don’t celebrate Christmas. But I didn’t want to accidentally mess it up, or write something inaccurate about a holiday that I don’t celebrate. It felt disingenuous to make a Hanukkah post because I’m not Jewish and it doesn’t seem like my place, and I didn’t want to do a Yule one either, because no two people celebrate it the same way. So, I strongly encourage others to add their respective winter festivities to this post if they want to! We’re all about inclusivity here.

Without further ado:

🎁LUPIN:

I don’t feel like it needs saying, but this man goes bonkers for Christmas.

He flip-flops his choice of red or green jacket by the year. But it always comes with an equally garish Christmas-themed tie, just to make explicitly clear that this is The Christmas Jacket for the year, as opposed to the standard red/green jacket.

The hideout(s) are always decorated to the GILLS inside. It’s an odd mix of older classy decorations he’s inherited from his family, and absolutely horrendously tacky ones he’s bought himself. 

Picture real branch garlands, wrapped tastefully around gilded candelabras that have been passed down through several generations. And then one of those singing, dancing stuffed animals from Walmart that plays “Jingle Bell Rock” when you squeeze its paw, right next to it.

Christmas-themed heists? You know it, baby. But he won’t steal anything on Christmas Eve or Christmas. It just isn’t in the spirit of the season, in his opinion. But he’ll leave a little something-something with his calling cards during the rest of December. A candy cane, a sprig of mistletoe, a bough of holly, etc.

Lupin despises eggnog. He loves any other Christmas drink, just not eggnog. He’s too grossed out by the idea of drinking eggs with alcohol- some things just shouldn’t be mixed.

Will not allow anyone to mention the truth about Santa Claus in his presence. Yeah, he knows, but that’s not the point. It just feels like bad luck to say it out loud. The harder Jigen tries to debate with him that Santa isn’t real, the harder he digs in his heels that “of course he is you absolute Scrooge, how dare you! If you don’t believe, you don’t receive.”

Favorite Christmas Songs: Anything peppy! 

Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney

Step Into Christmas by Elton John

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

We Need a Little Christmas by Percy Faith and his Orchestra

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Claus’ Party by Les Baxter

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Literally anything except eggnog.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything obscenely sugary. Especially gingerbread men and other decorated pastries.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Loves to ice skate and make gingerbread houses! But his houses usually look fairly pathetic, no matter how hard he tries.

Favorite Christmas Movie(s): 

The Grinch (Jim Carrey version)

Home Alone

Scrooged

Christmas Gifts: The king of gag gifts, but he also gives surprisingly thoughtful presents too. He’s the kind of guy that would get a person something they mentioned once offhandedly that they really liked, and he’d go back and get it for them.

🎅JIGEN:

Lupin always wants to decorate the hideout(s) the second Halloween ends, but it never happens. With Jigen being the only American in the gang, he always puts a stop to it in order to preserve the quickly-disappearing border between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

What can I say, dude loves his Thanksgiving excuse to eat like shit and do nothing for a day. Even if it is a fucked-up holiday, historically speaking.

But once the Thanksgiving meal is over, he gives Lupin the okay to go crazy. He’s pretty stoked about Christmas too, but too full of turkey to contribute, so he just watches Lupin hang up Christmas lights everywhere while he lays on the couch and digests.

Jigen likes Christmas a lot, but like, in a normal person kind of way. Nowhere near Lupin’s insane level. He’s surprisingly open about his enthusiasm too. The average person would think he doesn’t really care about Christmas much (or anything else really), but to the gang, Christmastime is the most openly excited they’ve ever seen him.

One year’s Christmas-themed heist involved Jigen dressing up as a mall Santa as a part of the plan. The gang powdered his beard, gave him a pillow for his stomach, and sent him on his way. Everything went surprisingly smoothly, and he actually did pretty well with the kids. At first they were a little intimidated, and Jigen was kind of nervous- but he gave them all candy canes and they changed their minds pretty quickly.

Jigen enjoyed it a lot, actually... to the point that he may have potentially started volunteering to be the local mall Santa. Every year during December, he leaves for a day or two on “business.” Nobody in the gang can prove it though, and trust me, they’ve tried.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The classics and the chill ones, with a few rock ones thrown in for a little kick.

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby

Sleigh Bells by Gene Autry

(There’s No Place Like) Home For The Holidays by Perry Como

Jingle Bells by Frank Sinatra

Caroling, Caroling by Nat King Cole

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow by Dean Martin

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday by Bing Crosby

Run Rudolph Run by Chuck Berry

Merry Christmas Baby by Bruce Springsteen (Sang this once after too much eggnog and will never live it down)

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by the Barenaked Ladies (He’s not into all the Jesus-y stuff, but it’s pretty catchy.)

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Jigen is ALL. ABOUT. THAT. NOG. He’ll make his cup a little stronger than everyone else’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: He really likes candy canes, especially the mini ones. He’ll keep a few in his pocket with his cigs, and switch between them depending on his mood. Out of habit, it’ll usually dangle out of his mouth like a cigarette would.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Watching Christmas movies and laughing at Lupin’s shitty gingerbread houses.

Favorite Christmas Movies: 

Anything that’s on at the moment, really. He likes to lounge by the TV, and he’s not picky. 

He has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas though.

A Christmas Story, solely because of the BB gun.

Scrooged, because Bill Murray’s hilarious.

Christmas Gifts: Something practical and useful that the person never realized they needed until they opened the box.

☃️GOEMON:

Goemon wasn’t originally a huge fan of Christmas. Shocking, I know.

He now enjoys some aspects of it, and tolerates others. He likes the idea of giving heartfelt gifts and spending time with loved ones as a tradition, but dislikes the cheesy commercial aspect of Christmas.

He already enjoys the snow and walking through the forest, so the gang usually commissions him to pick a tree for them and cut it down with Zantetsuken. (If they’re somewhere where that’s an option.)

Unbeknownst to the rest of the gang, he will always replant the tree he cut down, and he will wrap something cozy around the bottom of the sapling to keep it safe. Yes, this was directly inspired by A Charlie Brown Christmas. No, he will not admit to this.

Favorite Christmas Songs: The instrumentals, and a few he’d rather die than admit to liking.

The Nutcracker March from The Nutcracker

Waltz of the Flowers from The Nutcracker

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from The Nutcracker

Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental) by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Greensleeves by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Last Christmas by Wham! (He likes the storyline and the romantic aspect of it.)

Do They Know It’s Christmas? by Band Aid (He likes that it was for a good cause, even if it has its flaws.)

Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono (Again, flawed, but he enjoys the intended message of peace. Also, represents Japan on the side with Yoko Ono.)

White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Surprisingly fond of hot cocoa. Heavy on the whipped cream and marshmallows. 

Favorite Christmas Foods: Doesn’t really like eating gingerbread men, but enjoys decorating them. They’re always pristine, like something you’d get in a bakery.

Favorite Christmas Activities: See above. Also enjoys going out in the snow, and making ice sculptures with Zantetsuken.

Favorite Christmas Movies: Refuses to admit he likes any of these.

Any of the classic Rankin Bass claymation specials.

Any other animated ones for kids. Has a soft spot for A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Polar Express.

A few of those cheesy Hallmark ones.

Christmas Gifts: Something small and sentimental he saw while walking by a store that reminded him of the person he’s giving it to. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtful nonetheless.

⛸FUJIKO:

Fujiko decorates the tree. Period. Lupin cannot be trusted to do this on his own. Goemon picks the tree, Lupin and Jigen put it in the stand, and from there, it’s all Fujiko. The ornaments, lights, and tree skirt are all perfectly color/theme coordinated, and arranged like a pristine store display. 

She also has a few ornaments that she bought for each specific member of the gang. Lupin’s is a monkey (he was not pleased, but he’s whipped for her, so he let her keep it). Jigen’s is a carved wooden pistol. Goemon’s is porcelain, with hand-painted sakura blossoms on it. She bought one for Zenigata too as a joke one year- a tiny bowl of ramen noodles.

Her ornament? The star on top of the tree, because she’s the star of the show, baby. It’s actually a snowflake, made of the finest crystal she could steal.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Pop music and Motown’s finest.

Underneath The Tree by Kelly Clarkson

All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey

Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

This Christmas by Donny Hathaway

What Christmas Means To Me by Stevie Wonder

Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes 

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Darlene Love

A Marshmallow World by Darlene Love

I Like A Sleighride (Jingle Bells) by Peggy Lee

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot chocolate and mulled wine.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Loves baking and eating gingerbread men. She lets Goemon decorate them with her. Hers have lots of candy and sprinkles on them, while his are just icing.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Along with baking, ice skating! She’s the best at it out of the whole group. None of the guys are particularly good at it, but she makes them go with her at least once regardless.

Favorite Christmas Movies:

Hallmark ones, solely to make fun of them.

Babes In Toyland, but only the 1986 one, because it has Keanu Reeves in it, and “I don’t care if I’m your girlfriend, Lupin. In this house, we support Keanu Reeves.”

Christmas Gifts: Something expensive/extravagant that will make the person think of her every time they use it.

🎄ZENIGATA:

Zenigata is the second biggest Christmas enthusiast, just behind Lupin.

He doesn’t get to settle down and decorate anything really, since he’s always running after the gang, but he does lots of other little things to celebrate instead. Like getting hot chocolate instead of coffee, tuning the squad car radio to the Christmas station, getting an air freshener that smells like gingerbread, and wearing a festive scarf and gloves with his trench coat to keep out the cold.

In years past, Zenigata still had to work on Christmas Eve/Christmas, even if Lupin wasn’t out stealing anything. Lupin found out and thought that was a little harsh of ICPO, so he came up with a plan. 

Each year he sends a calling card to the station with the conditions that only Zenigata can come to investigate. Zenigata does some research, shows up to the location on Christmas Eve, and every year, nothing’s there except for a neatly wrapped present from Lupin. 

Zenigata keeps the present as “evidence,” goes back to the station, and they give him Christmas off to go investigate on his own, in case Lupin tries anything else. Lupin never does, but the station doesn’t know that. Bada bing, bada boom, Lupin just got Zenigata a vacation.

Zenigata never catches on, bless his heart.

Favorite Christmas Songs: Ones he can sing/hum along to in the squad car.

The Man With All The Toys by The Beach Boys

Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins

Feliz Navidad by José Feliciano (Does Zenigata understand Spanish? Absolutely not. Does he get the point and think it’s festive? Darn right.)

A Holly Jolly Christmas by Burl Ives

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer by Dean Martin

Winter Wonderland by the Eurythmics

Silver Bells by Dean Martin

Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season by Andy Williams

Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town by Gene Autry

December by Earth, Wind, and Fire (Let him have this okay, it’s a good song and he gets made fun of for liking it by the rest of ICPO)

Skating by the Vince Guaraldi Trio

Favorite Christmas Drinks: Hot cocoa and eggnog, but not strong eggnog like Jigen’s.

Favorite Christmas Foods: Anything, really. It’s something besides cup noodles, so he’s grateful. Lupin’s gift always includes lots of various Christmas goodies because of this.

Favorite Christmas Activities: Zenigata enjoys the snow in theory, but doesn’t handle the cold well. So he likes to watch the snow from his window while he listens to Christmas music in his squad car and sips his hot cocoa.

Favorite Christmas Movies: He doesn’t really have a lot of time to sit down a watch a movie, with how hard he works. But he remembers a few from when he was younger, and he really likes those. His favorite is Frosty the Snowman.

Christmas Gifts: Something inexpensive because ICPO vastly underpays this poor man, and he’s always embarrassed because of that, but it’s always something super sweet and heartfelt.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! And for those who don’t celebrate it, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! <3

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Purple Monster Strikes

Recently in an online discussion of 1950s sci-fi films, the old Republic serial The Purple Monster Strikes came up.

Why is came up I’ll mention later, but first let’s note it: 

was made in 1945 

was the last 15 chapter Republic serial

is awful

Not eyeball gouging / brain melting / soul scorching awful the way The Lost City or Gene Autry And The Phantom Empire or Captain Video are awful, but awful enough…

…yet at the same time, worthy of comment (as we’ll soon note).

1945 is a crucial year.  Despite the Nazis last ditch Battle of the Bulge, WWII is clearly winding down to an Allied victory in both Europe and the Pacific. 

American audiences feel tired of the war wand want something else in their entertainment, even low brow / low rent entertainment like movie serials.

Republic produced three serials that year:  Federal Operator 99 proved surprisingly good, Manhunt Of Mystery Island (their next to last 15 chapter serial) tried some new ideas that while interesting didn’t prove interesting enough to be tried again, and The Purple Monster Strikes brought interplanetary thrills back to the theaters, only this time instead of visiting Mars, Mars (at least two of ‘em) came to Earth.

As noted in my overview of Federal Operator 99, Republic serials of that year looked…inexpensive.* 

This is especially true of The Purple Monster Strikes which really needed a bigger budget, a better script, and adequate production time for the type of story it was trying to tell.

That story?

In a nutshell:   The Purple Monster is a one-Martian invasion come to steal the secret of the “jet plane” (the script uses the term interchangeably with “rocketship”) from Earth and take it to Mars where it can be mass produced and used to attack our world (Why?  WTF knows or cares?).  To achieve this The Purple Monster bumps off the scientist in charge of the project, physically possesses his corpse by turning into a ghost-like entity, and tries to kill a nosy investigator and the late scientist’s niece.  In the end The Purple Monster tries to escape Earth only to get blowed up real good (Did I mention this is silly, stooped, and trite?  I did?  Good).

So why am I interested in The Purple Monster Strikes?  Well, for two reasons, the second and more important one we’ll save for the end, the first is that when watched with fully informed eyes, it’s a testament to the single greatest contribution the serials made to filmmaking:  The production board.

Lemme ‘splain what that is.

In the old days of movie making it was a folder with slots for narrow strips of colored cardboard to be slid in.  The strips were color coded for interior or exterior scenes, night or day, specific locations, second unit or special effects, etc.

These strips were grouped together on the production board so all the exterior day shots at one location could be filmed back-to-back, followed by all the night shots there before moving on to a new location.

The colored carboard strips were further broken down to match production numbers in the shooting script (“Scene 37:  The bandits take the town”), key props and costumes, stunt work, but most importantly actors / characters in the scene.

You want all your most important / expensive / difficult stuff grouped together…but you also need to figure out what you didn’t need so you could pare down your budget.

For example, if you need someone to play a policeman in Scene 1 and in Scene 12 but those scenes are shot two seeks apart, maybe it’s cheaper to have two different actors playing two different policemen for one day each than keep one actor on call for two weeks.

Likewise, if you’ve got an actor in a key supporting role, put all his scenes together.

This necessitates shooting out of sequence, but shooting out of sequence is now pretty much the industry norm for any filmed or taped production.

The serials invented the production board and the rest of the industry speedily glommed onto it.

Once you know what to look for in The Purple Monster Strikes, you can pretty much break down which scenes were shot when.

Case in point: Masked heroes and villains aside, serial characters rarely change costume except to match stock footage from earlier productions.  It’s not especially notable for male characters but females typically wear The Same Damn Dress in Every Damn Scene.

So when heroine Linda Sterling gets dunked in a water tank midway through The Purple Monster Strikes, you can bet that was her last day of filming since they were no longer worried about ruining her costume.

Likewise when a female reinforcement from Mars arrives, the exact same location right down to the same car parked in the same spot are used even though the female Martian doesn’t arrive until 2/3rds of the way into the story.

You wouldn’t notice this week to week in a movie theater, but they’re painfully obvious when bingewatching.

Case in point: There are never more than four characters onscreen at any time; this was all the production could afford on any given day.  If a fifth character showed up, one of the others needed to be knocked unconscious (if they were lucky) shot and fall off camera (if they were unlucky), or disintegrated (if they were really unlucky).

For example, the hero and heroine could be talking to a scientist (day 1 / shot 1) when three baddies show up at the door (day 2 / shot 1).  The first baddie shoots the scientist, who falls off camera then enters the frame and knocks out the heroine, who conveniently falls behind a counter (day 1 / shot 2).  The other two baddies enter and a huge brawl erupts (day 2 / shot 2).  The heroine revives (day 1 / shot 3) and shouts a warning at the hero.  The hero blasts a minor baddie who falls off camera as the other two baddies flee the scene (day 2 / shot 3), then the heroine rejoins the hero (day 1 / shot 4).

Binge watching also reveals a lot of sets and props reused again and again.  The same footstool is used as a weapon more than once, a prop valve in one chapter serves an entirely different function in another, and while serials frequently reused stock special effects shots, The Purple Monster Strikes doesn’t just use the same exploding car shot twice in the same serial, not just twice in the same chapter, but twice in the same car chase!

(Speaking of which, whenever they get in Linda Sterling’s car you know the odds are 50-50 it’s going off a cliff in a big flaming fireball.  The Purple Monster Strikes has her going through so many identical make automobiles you’d think she owned stock in a car dealership.)

Anybody familiar with Republic serials is going to find a lot of reused sets and props here.  Having seen Manhunt Of Mystery Island recently, I immediately recognized their ubiquitous warehouse set, the Republic Studios loading dock doubles as two different factory exteriors, and having lived in Chatsworth several years I can practically name each and every rock in the exterior scenes.**

On the plus side, bonus points for some impressive looking props, including a rocket test engine that provides the explosive cliffhanger for the first chapter, a double-barrel disintegrator that looks like a giant set of binoculars (I wonder if it was originally a military surplus training aid), and a spaceship seen under construction for most of the serial that proves to be the most striking design the redoubtable Lydecker brothers ever created (a pity it’s glimpsed only briefly before being blown up in the last chapter; Republic should have reused it for their later sci-fi serials instead of the dull unimaginative designs they went with).

Fun factoid: Mi amigo Donald F. Glut, filmmaker / NYTimes bestselling author / film historian, knew The Purple Monster hizzownsef, Roy Barcroft, and reports Barcroft had the wardrobe department sew a secret pocket in his costume for his cigarettes! 

Speaking of Barcroft, he’s the best thing in this serial and he ain’t that good.  A perennial bad guy in serials and B-Westerns, he normally turned in a satisfying performance, but the script for The Purple Monster Strikes gives him nothing to work with.

I mentioned previously how Federal Operator 99’s script works more often than not and gives its characters something the actors can work with, but The Purple Monster Strikes?  Nada.

Every line is a clunky flat declarative sentence exposition dump of the “I’ll take this strange medallion we discovered to Harvey the metallurgist to analyze” variety.

Even Linda Sterling can’t do anything with this though she tries to find an appropriate facial expression for whatever scene she’s thrown in.

As for nominal star Dennis Moore, I won’t say he’s wooden but in one of the innumerable fight scenes Barcroft hurls a coatrack at him and for that brief moment the coatrack delivers a far more memorable performance.

Sidebar on the fight scenes: They are choreographed expertly, among some of the best Republic ever staged, but directors Spencer Gordon Bennet and Fred C. Brannon -- both serial veterans who could do much, much better -- really dropped the ball in shooting them.  They’re shot almost entirely in wide angle longshots using slightly sped up photography instead of intercutting to keep the pacing fast.

The rest of the cast consists mostly of stuntmen carefully enunciating their one line before the fists start flying, or older male actors who deliver surprisingly good performances compared to everyone else.

But that script -- oh, lordie, that script!  This was made in 1945 and they’ve got a damn organ grinder in it!  Organ grinders vanished from the public sphere with the damn of movies; by the 1940s they were found only in comic books and animated cartoons; in other words, kid stuff.***

It’s clear the writers on The Purple Monster Strikes (Royal Cole, Albert DeMond, Basil Dickey, Lynn Perkins, Joseph Poland, and Barney Sarecky) considered this mere juvenile pablum, not worthy of even the smattering of sophistication they sprinkled on Federal Operator 99.

An adult can watch Federal Operator 99 and at least feel the story makes some kind of sense and the characters, however imperfectly enacted, at least offer adult motives and behaviors, but The Purple Monster Strikes is just insulting to the intelligence (I mean, they call the female Martian invader Marsha.  Seriously?).

Okay, so why do I think this is worth writing about?

Because The Purple Monster Strikes is the bridge between WWII and the Cold War.

Most of the major tropes of 1950s sci-fi are reactions to Cold War anxieties, and those anxieties are transplanted WWII anxieties.

Before WWII, American moneyed interests waged a relentless PR campaign against communism, socialism, and labor unions (sound familiar?).

Forced to make peace with the Soviets during WWII, these moneyed interests -- now heavily invested in what Dwight D. Eisenhower called the military-industrial complex -- bit their lips as US pop culture portrayed the Russians as gallant allies against fascism (and they were; credit where credit is due).

As soon as the war ended, however, and in fact, even a little before the end (see The Best Years Of Our Lives; great movie), they were already recasting the Russians as treacherous authoritarian atheists out to conquer the world.

As noted earlier, American audiences felt weary of a relentless diet of war related entertainment and in the waning days of the war turned eagerly to non-war related stories. 

Likewise studios, not wanting to get caught with rapidly dating WWII related material nobody wanted to see began actively developing different kinds of stories.

After four years of intense anxiety, the country needed to come down but couldn’t go cold turkey.  Science fiction (and hardboiled mysteries and spy thrillers) provided safe decompression.

1945 marks a significant sea change in Republic serial production.  Sci-fi would become a more predominant theme, infiltrating other genres such as the ever popular masked mastermind (viz. The Crimson Ghost).

Federal Operator 99 would be the last highwater mark for more plausible serial stories, but crime and undercover espionage remained serial staples to the bitter end.

Only Manhunt Of Mystery Island seemed a misfire and even in that case it only meant the masked mastermind returned to more traditional origins instead of the inventive backstory created for Captain Mephisto.  

What The Purple Monster Strikes did was take a very familiar set of WWII cliches and stereotypes then recast them in a (relatively) safe science fictional context.

The closest prototype to The Purple Monster Strikes is Republic’s G-Men Vs. The Black Dragon, as racially offensive as you could hope to imagine, and turn the inscrutable “yellow” villains into malevolent purple ones (later green when colorization was added).

By making the literally other worldly alien the “other”, 1950s sci-fi sidestepped the worst implications of their own themes:  

Invasion 

Subversion 

Fifth columns 

Loss of soul / identity / individuality (personified in bodily possession by alien intellects)

Paranoia

The Purple Monster Strikes lacks the wit and wherewithal to fully exploit these ideas, but it sure could hold them up for everyone to get a quick glimpse.

As childish and as inane as the plot may be, by the end when hero and heroine realize there is literally no one they can trust, The Purple Monster Strikes dropped a depth charge into preteen psyches fated to go off six years later with the arrival of The Thing From Another World and countless other sci-fi films and TV episodes afterwards.

Did The Purple Monster Strikes create this trend?  No, of course not – but as Stephen King pointed out in Danse Macabre regarding the incredibly inane The Horror Of Party Beach’s selection of nuclear waste dumping as their raison d'être for their monsters:

“I’m sure it was one of the least important points in their preproduction discussions and for that reason it becomes very important.”

King’s point is by not giving the matter much thought, The Horror Of Party Beach’s producers simply tapped into a subconscious gestalt already running through the culture and said, “Yeah, nuclear waste, wuddup widdat?”

Likewise, The Purple Monster Strikes’ producers / directors / writers didn’t sit themselves down to analyze Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four but rather picked up on the forever war current already moving through the American body politic.

War without end, war without ceasing.

And if we can’t define an enemy by name or place, so much the better!  The war on crime, the war on poverty, the war on drugs…

The war on terror.

The forever war thrives on the faceless unknowable enemy with the unknown but clearly malevolent anti-American agenda.

“Them”…against…U.S.

As an artistic achievement, The Purple Monster Strikes is sadly lacking in nearly all aspects, but as a cultural artifact, it’s still a clear warning.

Only not about “them” but about…us.

  © Buzz Dixon 

  *  read “cheap”

** Republic’s low budget backed them into an overlapping series of sci-fi serials, loosely referred to as the Rocket Man / Martian invasion serials by fans.  The Purple Monster Strikes’ costume was reused for Flying Disc Man From Mars (which featured a semi-circular flying wing already featured in Spy Smasher and King Of The Mounties) and again for Zombies Of The Stratosphere, but between those two serials the wholly unrelated King Of The Rocket Men was released.  Zombies… is a sequel to both Flying Disc Man… and King Of The Rocket Men but Radar Men From The Moon introduces a new character -- Commando Cody -- who wears the same rocket pack as the heroes of King… and Zombies… but faces a lunar, not Martian menace then he spins off to become Commando Cody:  Sky Marshall Of The Universe in a quasi-serial (i.e., no cliff-hangers, each chapter a complete adventure) fighting a third alien invasion!

***  Or the works of Bertolt Brecht, but that ain’t what Republic’s going for here.

[insidetheacademy]

Say You Love Me || v

pairings: peter parker x reader (both are 18+!)

summary: y/n settles down in paris and met a new friend! also peter has a surprise

warnings: wet dREAAAMS

gif credits: tomholandd

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

-

the flight to Paris was okay except for a baby that was crying super loud. jeez, babies shouldnt be allow to travel you thought to yourself. after you had arrived, you went straight to this beautiful cottage that was apparently the company’s property. you said goodbye and thank you to the taxi driver and took a good look at the house infront of you. this is it, you’re gonna have to spend your time in this house for God knows how long.

you dragged your suitcase in and set it aside. you explored the interior of the house before going to the backyard. it was beautiful. there was a visible river and someone who used to lived here definitely took a good care of it since theres flowers and everything that you had seen in a fairytale. you werent gonna lie, you do feel like you’re a pauper. you took out your phone and captured the photo to upload to your Instagram. you captioned it “la vie en rose”, cliché but you had planned about taking photos and making your captions in french since you got on the airplane.

you head inside to take out all of your paintings essential. you felt inspired just by looking at the view there. you took one of the chair from the garden and sit down and started painting on your easel. you startled when you felt someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw a tall pale man. he looks like he’s from around here.

“hey! y/n right?” he asked smiling wide, you took out your earphone “yeah? and who are you?” you asked confusingly, “Jules? we’re supposed to be working together?” he said trying to refresh your brain but you were still confused. “did they not tell you about me?” Jules asked, you shook your head and said a small sorry. you must have slipped over the email when they said that. you feel so stupid right now,

Jules explained everything and apparently he’s your new roommate. he was supposed to help you do a big painting for Claude Monet. you invited him inside to make a cup of tea for the both of you. “so, where are you from, Jules?” you cusped your teacup, “I live 30 minutes away from here. they wanted me to be here all the time to complete the painting as fast as possible and I couldnt say no,” Jules said.

after an hour and a half of talking with Jules, you really feel right at home with him. you two just met but you really feel a connection between him. you also found out that during his free time, he’s a guitarist and does gigs here and there to make extra pocket money. he said he’s in a band thats called “The Rejects Club” you laughed hard when he told you that because it sounded so high school-ish. but in his defence, he did say that the band formed when they were still in high school.

it was close to dinnertime, you didnt want to eat as you already eat a croissant that you quickly grabbed from the airport but Jules insisted to make cook for the both of you, you couldnt say no when his voice sounded so velvety and is like a warm cup of coffee with marshmallows on top. you were sitting on the couch with the both of your legs on top of the coffee table scrolling through instagram when Peter replied to your story, “how’s Paris so far?” he asked, “it was tiring but tomorrow’s gonna be more tiring,” you said.

whatever Jules was cooking definitely made your stomach growl with anticipation. you werent hungry but whatever he was making definitely made you hungry. you stood up from the couch to look at what Jules was cooking and it was pasta. to be accurate; an aglio olio. it smelled so delicious. you wanted to help so you took out the plates from the cupboard and set it down on the table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“you know I love you right?” Peter said his lips nearing yours, you looked into his eyes and nodded. the kissed turned into a passionate and fiery kiss. he had your body against the wall, he was cusping your jaw with his left hand and the other underneath your shirt, you let out a moan and he squeezed tits.

“jump,” he said through the kiss and you obeyed not wanting to destroy the moment that you were having, he sets you down on the silk bed and continues to take of your clothes, he kissed from your collarbones to the place that you needed him the most, “y/n!” someone said, but you were so lost you thought it was Peter that was calling you but the familiar new voice kept coming closer and closer as you woke up.

you woke up with sweat forming on your forehead and your alarm ringing so goddamn loud, “jesus, are you okay?” Jules asked, “what time is it?” you looked around frantically trying to look for the clock, “its 10:30am! we were supposed to leave the house 15 minutes ago, y/n!” your eyes went wide and picked a floral strap dress and a cream coloured turtleneck. you went to the shower without having second thoughts.

you put your clothes on and quickly grabbed your shoes along with a pair of socks and your handbag. you locked the door and ran to Jules’ car. you were breathing heavily as you strapped your seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’re late!” you said flabbergastedly, “yeah, I know! what time did you even go to bed?” Jules was clearly annoyed. seems like he’s the type of person to arrive right on time.

“I slept right after we had dinner! I don’t know why I couldn’t hear the alarm. God, I feel so stupid” You put your socks on and your shoes. You took out your lipstick and put them on. “Who is Peter, anyway?” Jules asked absentmindedly, you looked at him trying to find out how he knew that name and in hopes that he’s just fucking around but he’s not.

you closed your compact mirror, “he’s a friend of mine,” “a friend, huh?” Jules scoffed, “I didn’t know a friend moans another friend name in their sleep,” your face flushed with red as he said those words. “what the hell, Jules?! I could’ve went days without knowing that you heard me having wet dreams about my friend!” you cover your face in shame. you couldnt believe that he had hear you moaning Peter’s name

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I could just bury myself right here,” you said, “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jules said taking your hands into his, giving you a warm smile.

you two had arrived at this building that was filled with paintings but not by those famous painters just paintings by painters that were starting out. “Ah darlings!” you heard a middle aged woman walking towards you with both of her hands wide open, obviously ready to hug the both of us to death.

“you must be Ms y/n!” she cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, what a weird way to greet somebody but thats how it is, “and you must be Jules!” she took a step back and took a good look of you and Jules’ faces. she introduced herself as Mrs. Autry. she walked the both of you around the office and explained about how everything works.

“I am so excited for the two of you to work with us,” she smiles warmly, “let me know if you need anything sweethearts!” she bid her goodbye and went to another direction. you and Jules walked to the nearest café and sat down there. you ordered a frappacino whilst Jules ordered a latte.

every now and then you somehow were reminded of how you dreamed of Peter. not only dreamed of him but in such an inappropriate way. you don’t like him anymore, you just don’t know why he’s haunting you this badly. should you stop being friends with him? it feels so awkward now that you dreamed of him banging you. “so what should we do?” Jules voice brought you back down to earth, you stuttered trying to come up with something.

he could tell by the look in your eyes that theres something wrong, “you know you can tell me anything right, y/n?” Jules said, he’s definitely good in reading someone’s body language. “i wont judge, y/n,” he reassures you, you took a deep breath and let everything out.

everytime you talked he would listen, he’s there for you, always looking into your eyes to keep the conversation going, you also mentioned about how Peter was a dick when he found out you were coming here, Jules said “what a dick, do you want me to punch him if he ever comes here?” Jules offered you then laughed at his attempt trying to make you feel better.

you both went home and went straight to each other’s room because you were so tired. you didnt realised how much walking there was gonna be today. you took out your phone and saw MJ messaged you, “hey!!! I have great news! I’m coming to Paris next month!” you smiled to yourself, woah, did MJ missed you that much already?

you typed back “I know you miss me but you don’t have to, you know?” “Haha, very funny, y/l/n,” you chuckled and asked her “why are you coming here?” a three dots appeared and her response was “I just wanted to go there and experienced a real trip. not like when we get to go there and it was cancelled,” you still remember when the school trip cancelled going to Paris because apparently they got “upgraded” to go to Prague.

you smiled when you remembered thats how you found out Peter was Spider-man. “well, you’re going to love Paris,” you replied to MJ. you also gave her your current home address in Paris so she can visit you! she thought it was a lovely idea.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“can’t you please to do this for me, MJ?” Peter begged MJ, basically down on his knees. “fine! but if everything went wrong do not blame me!” MJ gave in. Peter was planning to meet you in Paris but he wants it to be a surprise. something you’re going to remember till you’re dead.

Peter have missed you so much and he swore he could go crazy if he couldn’t see your face for another month. Peter was so excited that you gave a thumbs up and that you even gave MJ your address in Paris. he wonders to himself what could go wrong?

“there, I’ve done it, now can you please leave?” MJ crosses her arms, pissed that Peter hadwoken her up in the middle of the night because he couldnt keep it in his pants about his “love” for you. atleast thats what MJ teased him about. he never quite really admit it but MJ could see it and told him that he’s not fooling anybody with those goo goo eyes.

“thank you, MJ. i’ll find a way to repay you. i promise.” Peter said while crouching on her window, “you better, Parker, or you wont see the light of day ever again.” MJ threatens jokingly at Peter. he laughs and there he goes, he shot his webs to another building.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

a/n: hi sorry i know this is short and boring but i have so much on my plate right now but to make it up, I’ll try to post the next chapter tonight or tomorrow! again so SORRY its boring skdjsks but please do leave your thoughts!

say you love me taglist:

@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders @averyfosterthoughts @a--1--1--3

[redshirtgal]

This article is going to stray off the usual Redshirt/ TOS extras topic a bit. I ran across the basic info while researching someone else and realized this was just too good not to share.

Take a good look at this October 1967 TV Guide article. Most Trek fans know there were at least five female android series in "I, Mudd" and that three sets of identical twins were used to represent certain series. But most people either don't realize or don't pay attention to the fact there was a male set of twins used to represent the Herman series in the episode. They were usually seen in the background, guarding doorways or seen behind the shoulders of the main characters.

Their names were Tom and Ted Le Garde and chances are, you have never heard of them before. But it turns out they were quite well known in some areas of the world by the time they appeared on Star Trek.

(Billy Blackburn was also a member of the Herman series of androids but notice he was placed in the forefront and the twins were placed farther back so you would not notice they really do not look all that similar) Even though Tom and Ted were primarily known as country western singers from Australia, they had been encouraged by their manager to take acting lessons. During the 60s, the twins came to the U.S. to seek their fame and fortune. By chance, the Le Gardes were appearing in Los Angeles in an off-Broadway production of THE WORLD OF CARL SANDBURG. William Shatner was a friend of the director and producer, Ed Ludlum, and he was there in attendance on opening night. After the show was over, Shatner came backstage and chatted a bit with them. Eventually, he told them about an opportunity on an upcoming Star Trek episode called "I, Mudd" to play twin androids and asked if they were interested. And of course they were!

They believed their connection with Shatner and Ludlum proved useful when they landed their next role as a pair of river bandits in an episode of Daniel Boone titled "Sidewinder and Cherokee." The twins enjoyed keeping both Fess Parker and the guest star Forrest Tucker confused about which brother they were speaking with.

But let's back up a little bit and take a look at how the twins got their start. When they were children, they fell in love with both country western music and cowboy movies. The first western movie they saw was one with Hopalong Cassidy, whom they would meet many years later. 

Tom and Ted Le Garde eventually left the home at the age of 15 to work at one of the largest cattle ranches in Australia. Quick to learn, soon they became adept at riding horses, herding cattle, whip-cracking, and marksmanship with a rifle. But their love of music also led them into entering many singing contests while they were also participating in rodeos. In 1947, Tom and Ted received an offer to join Buddy Williams Wild West Show. At that time, they were the youngest professional rodeo riders at the age of 17. But they were also allowed to continue singing and became popular with the audiences as Australia’s Yodeling Stockmen.

And all that hard work paid off. In 1950, Tom and Time Le Garde  released their first recordings for Rodeo. And in 1952, their fortunes took off when they signed on with their first manager, Edward Samuels. He helped them refine their act, steered them toward motivational books, and had them take acting lessons. Between 1952 and 1957, they released a number of singles under the Regal Zonophone label. 

In 1954, Tom and Ted Le Garde met their idol William Boyd aka "Hopalong Cassidy" while he was on tour in Australia. That was likely the most important moment in their lives. For the rest of that tour, they were his support act. By the time they decided to try their luck in the U.S. and Canada, he had introduced them to others well known country western singers such as Roy Rodgers and Gene Autry.

The Le Gardes were already popular recording stars in Australia before they left for the United States. They had hit singles on both the Rodeo and Regal Zonophone Records, including "Before the Dawn," There's a Bridle Hanging on the Wall," and "Nobody's Darling But Mine." After they had finished their first American tour, they set up their own version of The Grand Ole Opry in Sydney and began recording for Columbia Records, sometimes with Lorne Green and Marty Robbins. The Le Gardes put out three albums and a string of singles. With Gary Paxton as producer, they recorded the single "True Love" which broke into the Top 90 Country Hits. The Le Gardes had another Top 90 single with "I Can Almost Touch The Feelin'." Gary Paxton had again served as their producer. The following year, they barely made the charts with "Daddy's Makin' Records in Nashville."

With all these recordings, naturally they began showing up on variety and talk shows in Australia, Canada, Los Angeles, Nashville, and Las Vegas as well as producing several of their own. After appearing in several shows in Canada, it was rumored they were going to have their own talk show there but it never seemed to pan out. However, back in Hollywood, the Le Gardes were seen on Doye O’Dell’s Western Varieties TV shows and hosted their own TV series on KTLA-TV Los Angeles. They made several appearances on the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville as well. Back in Australia, they began working on their own show called "Country Style" in 1967, even filming at least one episode. However the TV studio rejected it and the episode was not aired until 2010. But the following year, they did agree to host a variety show called Studio A. On one of their returns to the United States, Elvis Presley's manager Colonel Tom Parker helped them get a three year contract in Las Vegas which provided some stability while they continued to record.

How many times have we seen a Star Trek connection to Elvis Presley? This one, however, is unique. Not only were the Le Garde twins taken under the wing of Presley's manager, Colonel Tom Parker, but they also wore variations of a very famous Elvis costume on stage. Elvis' jumpsuit was known as the "Light Blue Target Suit" and was made by Bill Belew's IC Costume Company. The white and the black versions of the Le Garde's outfits were made by the same company. No one knows if Colonel Tom Parker took them to Bill Belew's company and asked to have these jumpsuits created off the pattern for Elvis Presley's or if the Le Gardes themselves ask Parke for help in ordering the two sets. Bill Belew rarely did individual orders by the 70s so Parker had to have been involved somehow. In the photo above, the suit in the center is a copy of the Elvis suit - the stones are a lighter blue. But you can see there are slight differences between the ones worn by the Le Gardes and this copy - the stones in the Le Gardes’ jumpsuit were spaced farther apart. If you want to see the actual Elvis outfit, you can click on this link.  https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/elvismomentsintime/13-blue-starburst-jumpsuit-t6529.html

In 1987, they were awarded Hall Of Fame status at Australia’s prestigious Tamworth Country Festival and during the 80s, they launched their own Boomerang label and made several appearances in the UK, including at the Wembley Festival. Their last US country chart entry in 1988, "Crocodile Man From Walk," reached number 92.

Maybe the Le Gardes never quite made it to the top level of stardom in the U.S., they still managed to enjoy quite a bit of success both there and in their home country. In 2015, they released a book about their rise to fame as Australia's first country western music export. Even though Ted Le Garde died in 2018, they are still fondly remembered by many of their countrymen. Quite an accomplishment for twin brothers we only knew as male androids in "I, Mudd."

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 2

Characters: Elaine, Arthur x Theo, Vincent

Pairing: Elaine x Isaac (eventually)

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​ @lady-moonbroch​

A/N: This chapter turned out nothing like the first draft XD Enjoy some Elaine spending time with her Uncle and she meets a boy!

Four days into her new job as Theo’s assistant, the mood in their home had drastically lifted. Elaine never complained and paid close attention to every task given to her, exceeding all expectations. She quoted things he’d said to her years ago and questioned smartly, craving the knowledge he had. Having her along had proved quite useful with prickly clients, smoothing over situations with a charming smile and sweet words, likely emulating Arthur. 

Theo enjoyed having time with her. In recent years, they’d grown strained. The teenager wanted more freedom and broke rules in place to protect her because she believed them unnecessary. Now, at nearly eighteen in only two days, she’d fought harder. Being able to keep an eye on her put the art dealer at little more at ease.

His daughter sat across from him, glancing at him out of the corner of her vision. Elaine hadn’t taken the news that she couldn’t accompany him today well. Instead of anger, she’d pouted silently all morning.

“I take it that you aren’t happy with today’s agenda,” Arthur piped up with an amused grin not quite hidden by his cup of steaming coffee. The previous night Theo had informed him of the impending unhappy teenager.

Elaine stuffed the fork full of pancakes into her mouth, enough to make her cheeks puff out to match her frown. She’d gotten up extra early and made pancakes and extra sweet coffee, but the answer remained unchanged. Now, she wanted to drown her sorrows in syrup and butter until she got sick.

“Vincent has asked for you to help him today while I’m gone.” Theo could easily see the motive behind his brother’s sudden request. He’d promised to make her do some work instead of spoiling her the entire day.

The teenager flinched at those words. She couldn’t very well turn down her uncle, as she adored him so much. Help isn’t the word she’d choose to describe what the day would entail. He’d likely ask her to do a small task or two, nothing that required much effort. “Fine. I guess I can do that.”

Working didn’t bother her. She assisted around the house with the chores without complaint. If Comte asked, she would readily agree. It irritated her that this client wouldn’t allow her entrance to his home, prompting this sour mood. No promises of being quiet or staying outside had swayed Theo. He couldn’t risk spooking the man.

“If you find yourself in need of something to do, I can have you proofread for me.” Her grimace only made the mystery writer chuckle again. Her disdain for that job well-known. Though she enjoyed his stories, playing editor didn’t appeal to her. A tedious thing.

Theo cracked a grin, rising from the table. “You better thank Vincent for saving you from that.” One check of his watch ended the conversation. He bid his family farewell before heading into town alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help your Papa with his work?” Arthur teased further. He had been a tad jealous that she eagerly wanted to assist Theo over the course of the week. Ah, but he was also grateful that the two were more understanding of each other.

Elaine stacked all the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen. “I love you but no.” Her curt reply still amusing. Setting the dishes in the sink, she licked the sticky syrup off her fingers.

“Off you go then. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

The young vampire didn’t need to be told twice. Housework didn’t appeal to her either. She did her part, pitching in when needed, but if told she didn’t have to do it... the teenager bailed as quickly as she could.

Inside the mansion, the hallways were quiet and empty.  At this hour, everyone should be awake, except for Leonardo perhaps. Rapping her fist against Vincent’s door, she cast confused glances down the hallway.

“Goede morgen, Elaine,” Vincent greeted with a bright smile. He laughed softly at her confusion. Since Arthur and Theo had moved out of the mansion with her when she was only 4 years old, daily happenings didn’t reach their house as quickly as it spread through the mansion. “We’re the only ones here today.”

“I’m okay with that.” She flashed a disheartened smile, unable to shake the dark cloud hanging over her. Her normally mischievous and lively attitude disappeared. The others might have tried to make her understand. She understood perfectly fine.

That didn’t make it less saddening.

“Come here.” He’d barely open his arms and invited his niece to find comfort with him when the teenager stepped forward and accepted the warm hug. Vincent stroked his fingers through her copper hair. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but she reminded him so much of Theo when he was a child. “You know, he couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you were on the job.”

“Really?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t said so to her. Theo would give praise often, especially when she came up with new ideas. Telling the others about it, that was rarer.

Vincent hummed in response, a gentle smile on his lips as she peeked up at him. “I’d say he was outright bragging. I’m not surprised. You’re his daughter after all.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he laughed softly at her uplifted mood.

Elaine lingered a little longer before releasing him, soaking up his sunshine-like warmth. “I guess I could stop pouting about it.” Relenting her sad feelings, she sighed softly before questioning. “So, what was it you wanted my help with?”

“I finished the final painting and I thought I’d ask for your expert advice on where to put it in the gallery space. That is, if you want to.” His request was well-received with a glowing smile from his niece. Theo had mentioned that he’d given her the sole responsibility of choosing how to use the space to best showcase the art. The uncle looked forward to seeing what she’d done.

***********

The paintings on the wall were shrouded in black cloth, to hide the precious items from view until the day of the showing. Only a select few knew what was beneath, ones trusted by Theo to make this a success. Elaine had been gifted one of the only keys to venue, a testament to her importance.

“I believe I’m looking forward to this event more than any other,” Vincent commented, allowing the staff to hang the framed piece in its designated spot.

The heat in her cheeks caused the teenager to turn her gaze anywhere else. “It’s not much different from how Vader does it. I’ve been to more of these than any other event in the city.” The location changed but ever since she learned to walk, she’d been toddling around, observing, and learning how it works. Before she’d even realized, she’d begun understanding color theory and composition.

“It wasn’t too long ago that you were only a few years old and correcting patrons on the medium or style of the art. You always had this incredibly serious expression, much like Theo.”

“That was so long ago! I’m almost eighteen!”

Vincent chuckled with a loving smile. “Yes, I guess that’s right.”

The chime of the door timed perfectly with one of the staff calling to speak with Vincent. Elaine stepped away to investigate the newcomer. Violet eyes narrowed at the sight of a boy, likely no older than herself, attempting to take a peek at the portrait veiled by the black cloth. “Excuse me, but you can’t be in here.” Her tone less than polite, Elaine thrust her palms against his chest to push him away from the art piece.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ve been most curious about why there are staff entering but it’s never been open for business.” His emerald eyes filled with hidden intent that didn’t quite match the half smirk on his lips. The boy never resisted her pushing him back to the door and onto the street. “A secretive operation, I presume, miss?”

“Elaine and we don’t open for another two days.”

Her biggest fear was that he was a spy for le academia and all of her father’s hard work would go to waste if they were discovered. He didn’t fit the typical appearance of a high bred family, usually scrawny and uptight, and he wasn’t either of those things.

“I’ll have to pop in when you are open. My name is Leon Autry.” He flashed another brilliantly smug smile and winked. “Might I inquire your surname, should I have any future questions?” The reason lost on the recipient. He’d yet to ask anything relevant to the gallery.

Elaine turned on her heel to return inside. “It’s Doyle.” Even though she didn’t quite like the boy, she couldn’t risk turning away a potential buyer. Her cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t clear if it was from embarrassment or anger. The young pureblood didn’t have many friends her age, and that led to a bit of awkwardness when around humans her age.

“Ah, like the writer.”

The girl stilled, hand hovering above the door handle. Perhaps she’d heard him incorrectly.

“You might not know of him. He’s a British writer, mystery, I think.”

Or perhaps not.

“I believe it’s Arthur Conan Doyle. Any relation?” Leon asked as if he already knew the answer, like playing a game of truth or dare in order reveal a secret for confirmation.

Elaine relaxed her shoulders. Although she could hardly admit that she was indeed was the daughter of that very Arthur, albeit the vampire one, she wouldn’t allow him to glean that precious information from her. “No, but you aren’t the first to ask. But wouldn’t that be grand? Imagine being related to someone as talented as that.” Her dreamy smile fowled his for a moment.

“Imagine.” The façade of his grin had ghosted away for a split second, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Elaine, are you ready to head back?” A third party interrupted, much welcomed by the girl. Vincent approached the two, protectively a half step in front of his niece. The tension between the two children enough to worry him.

Her head bobbed once in response. “Yes, let’s go home.” The way Leon’s eyes followed her unsettled the girl. Elaine settled back on the seat in the carriage, mulling over the strange interaction. Was it so unusual for someone to draw a connection between her name and the human Arthur from this era?

Whatever the case, she now had a proper mystery on her hands.

[themostfatefulfindingofalltime]

week 3

There are movies that are so bad they're good. It only requires them to be full of moments and scenes that, even though they're not meant to be funny, are so terribly shot or acted, that you can't help yourself but to laugh at them. You might fail to take away the desired effect, buy you can "prey" on the incompetence of the filmmakers and the actors, and find comedy where there is none.

Fateful findings however has a self-defense mechanism against that. Much like periodical cicadas, it protects itself from becoming a target of B-movie enthusiasts by the means of predator satiation. From the first second of the movie it fills the screen with so much bad acting, story inconsistencies, bad filmmaking and general incompetence, that even if you want to abuse it for your entertainment, you can only make it about halfway through, before you get overwhelmed, and have to resign to the Breen's vision of a deep morals-shaping magnum opus.

Today I have tried to ease my dreadful FF experience by trying to come up with a drinking game for the movie. Drinking games are the bad movie's best friend. You identify the most ridiculous bits of the movie, take a drink when they come up, and boom - just like that, you turned a worthless piece of cinema into a great party game. But this movie is so consistently shit, that you either get totally hammered 30 minutes in, or you don't take a sip the whole way through.

In my case it was the former. Suffice to say that the shitty old laptops appear way more often than I remembered. Next week I'm gonna try out a more survivable version of the ruleset, and hopefully share it with you, but until then I can only recommend to you to stay away from this cursed moving imagery.

I'm finding it hard to pick a Shining Light this week. I don't think that it's in the spirit of the segment to only pick the bits that are unintentionally funny, but there is very little in the terms of the scenes that aren't. I do however want to point out Jennifer Autry (Leah), who in my opinion delivers the strongest performance in the movie. Even though the scenes she's given usually make very little sense, she makes the most out of them.

Try not to pay attention to the fact that she's hand measuring the pulse of someone else's patient, who's already connected to a half dozen machines... or that she calls him "semiconchose"... this is really one of the strongest performances of the whole movie. I swear.

[jerepars]

It was when James and Teresa’s qualities started bleeding together and coexisting, when they took on the best of each other, that they began to thrive. Especially in their future together.