#point it the bear part 2 was spectacular

[einaudis]

I'm going to sleep now but S2 was a gift. Beautiful. Perfect. I'm so happy but at the same time so impressed. I was a bit worried before watching, but right now I feel like S2 was even better than S1 and that's a huge achievement.

[kitausuret]

Know Your Venom

A handy guide to differentiating all those spider-y symbols! (Part 1 of 2)

(Venom #150 "Malled!"; Michelinie, Lim)

Hey there, true believer! Are you tired of looking at comics with your favorite black-and-white wicked webslinger and not knowing who's beneath the goo? Fortunately for you, I'm here to help! We'll take a look through the years and hopefully give you some pointers on how to tell who's who. This isn't a foolproof guide by any means, but I hope it's helpful!

So, let's start at the beginning.

(Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #7-8; Shooter, Zeck)

It's very important to me that people understand that the original black suit costume came from Spider-Woman (Julia Carpenter)! That's why I often, and will for the rest of this guide, refer to it as the Carpenter Symbol. Know your roots!

For the most part though, we see this design used as a mockery of Spider-Man by the first Venom, Eddie Brock.

(Amazing Spider-Man #299, #331, and #362, by Michelinie and McFarlane, Larsen, and Bagley respectively)

The earliest artists for Venom all drew the Carpenter Symbol very close to how it originally was designed. You see this continued pretty much to this day, and so if you see a stocky guy in this look with biceps the size of his head - that's probably Eddie.

Early comics are easy, because the only other person to bear this symbol is Anne Weying, and her She-Venom look is. Well. Distinctive.

(Venom: Sinner Takes All #3; Hama, Luzniak & Palmiotti - Venom: Along Came a Spider #3; Hama, St. Pierre)

A few artists will draw the legs of the spider-symbol either much, much closer together (sometimes if the shot is tiny enough they'll just look like a solid mass), but others like Ron Lim will at times draw them further apart. For the most part it's pretty consistent though.

(Venom: Lethal Protector [1993] #5; Michelinie, Lim)

And then... we get into the 00s.

(Venom [2003] #16-17; Way, Skottie Young)

The above looks are pretty unique to how Skottie Young does Venom. And even then, Young's Venom nowadays looks less... like that. I'm not going to share a lot from this series, but we start to get a beefier-looking Venom. This would continue into Spectacular Spider-Man (2003) by Paul Jenkins and Humberto Ramos.

(Spectacular Spider-Man (2003) #3, #5; Jenkins, Ramos)

In some ways, you can kind of explain the inconsistency in the symbol by the fact that Eddie and the Symbiote's symbiosis was crumbling - but it's also just. Not that well-written as a Venom story.

And then we get into other hosts.

I feel obligated to point out that Trish Robertson was the first host of the Venom clone that would eventually become Mania - she literally only appears in Venom (2003) but she's almost indistinguishable from Venom.

(Venom [2003] #16; #18. I'm not going to describe what's happening in these panels, I took too much psychic damage just gathering them.)

Best I can give you is; Trish!clone!Venom is slightly more grey-purple and that's all I'm gonna give you on this topic.

Angelo Forunato was only alive for 2 issues, and he has one look:

(Marvel Knights: Spider-Man [2004] #7-8; Millar, Dodson)

He's the first Venom we see fully deviate from the Carpenter Symbol. He also has really distinctive eyespots and the first instance of seeing an actual eyeball in the spot. The legs of the spider-symbol are fully separated from each other, and even extend down to the thighs.

The symbiote, displeased with Angelo (and having thrown him off a roof), next went to Mac Gargan, arguably the third or fourth most important Venom to carry the name.

(Marvel Knights: Spider-Man #10-11; Millar, Dodson)

Beyond! is an interesting case in that it's the first time we see Mac!Venom with the Scorpion tail, which we don't really see again. It's an odd duck of a series overall, but it is kinda fun to see Mac utilizing some of the shapeshifting abilities. But, more to the point of this guide, you can always tell him apart by the white spider-legs going over the shoulders and up the arms.

(Beyond! #5; McDuffie, Kolins)

Thunderbolts is when you really start to see deviations from the original Mac look. This series especially leans into a very grotesque-looking Venom, but usually there's still some semblance of the original symbol. That's what to look for. But if you see a chonky boy and it's in that mid-2000s art style? You're probably looking at Mac.

You also get variations on the way the spider-legs are drawn. Some artists make them a little skinnier.

(Thunderbolts #114; Ellis, Deodato Jr. - Thunderbolts #122; Gage, Blanco - Amazing Spider-Man #570; Slott, Romita Jr.)

Here's where it gets tricky.

During Dark Avengers, Mac adopts the Carpenter Symbol (and a slimmer look) at Osborn's behest, and immediately starts looking anywhere between your classic Black Suit Spider-Man and Eddie's look as Venom. Your best bet during this era is to use context clues. Based on the art style for this era, if you're thinking "that's probably not Eddie", you're right. Eddie's running around as Anti-Venom.

(Dark Avengers [2009] #1; Bendis, Deodato)

And, yes, that means that this scene... is Mac Gargan. No other Venom would let Norman Osborn boss them around. Please, for the love of God, get this one right.

(New Avengers Annual #3; Bendis, Mayhew)

Mac keeps this look all the way up until he and the symbiote are separated, which leads us to...

Flash Thompson, AKA Agent Venom.

(Coming in Part 2!)

[imaginespazzi]

hiii!!! first time anon and silent fan and follower of ALL ur fics!!! ive reread GH a billion times its so damn good your characterisation is impeccable and the way u write angst UNPARALLELED i live for it! every update from you makes MY day i live in australia so i wake up every Tuesday morning and allocate the first 20mins of my morning to a new chapter☺️☺️☺️

ANYWAYS decided i need to show my appreciation FOR CHAPTER 6 as it is 1000+/10 so here is my long review:

- Love love love all the description around the wedding details - to be known is to be loved and it’s only been a year…how could Olivia possibly know Paige the way azzi does. She really never stood a chance🫢

- Drew being “sick” and later saying “so she’s not stopping the wedding” - so endearing he just wants his pookie sister in law😭😭 i NEED an angsty scene with him and azzi in present time (how old would he be? Teens/early 20’s) where he’s clearly resentful about how everything went down

- Man Tim and Katie🥹🥹🥹 the NECKLACE my heartttttt. So gracious and supportive..would love to know if there was a part of them crushed by Paige not ending up their daughter in law

- Finding out on instagram about the pregnancy is insane i would have to be put down. Surely azzi did not find out about the wedding over instagram…surely……pls…..

- “the first thing you’re gonna see is your smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do” Paige’s way with words…Paige just can’t help it but ur heart breaks for azzi having to hear such beautiful things from her EX

- Paige crying alone in the tent crushed under the weight of both Azzi and Stephie in her heart ugh

- MAYBE MY FAVOURITE DIALOGUE YOUVE WRITTEN: Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.” “Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?” - it’s v poetic but you’ve somehow managed to write it in a way that isn’t clunky but feels SO REALISTIC I can literally see the regressed 20 something version of Paige complaining to her defacto MIL about her girl problems. AMAZING

- NVM best dialogue you’ve ever written: “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.” how does ur brain work like this?!!???????

- Steph guest appearance YAY! I wonder whether Steph ever makes fun of Azzi for how she named her child, or if they were already closer at that point. UNCLE TWIN☺️

- Naur Paige falling to her knees to catch Stephie - down astronomically bad it’s literally been a day i love them sooooooo much

- And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.” - Paige and Stephie have so many similarities (purple, mint icecream etc) but the biggest thing - they BOTH love Azzi so much 🥺🥺🥺 what a privilege and simultaneously a terrifying prospect… that you are two people on the planet that can have the greatest capacity to impact her (both positive and negative)

- “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss.I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?” “Right baby,” This made me clucky fr! Stephie is spectacular give me 14 rn 👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼👩‍🍼

- The constant theme of Azzi being content, having enough but not having everything she wants💔 she’s sacrificed so so much it hurts me how scared she is to accept that she could be happier

- I am a SUCKER for the trope where person 1 cannot stand seeing person 2 having a meltdown and person 2 goes to leave but person 1 cannot bear the thought of letting them go and hugs them ugh this story is like a MOVIE

- “You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-” the parallels to the UCLA fic and Paige seeing Azzi with Zoe..need to see this scene written PLEASE

- “It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman” Oh Lord here we go. This lowkey shocked me cannot lie - was NOT expecting this. V v curious about the aftermath of this….before day 1 of practise is CRAZY.

ANYWAYS WOW v v long review but i just needed to show my appreciation for this masterpiece! please know that this fic brings me infinitesimal joy and i cannot wait for the next chapter!!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️

OMG HI FRIEND (or I guess I should say mate like Australians lol?)!! Welcome to my inbox!

No one knows Paige the way Azzi does because Paige won't let anyone see her the way she lets Azzi see her

Drew is so absolutely done with these two dumbasses and had to make it very clear. I think Paige-Azzi were such an example to him and to have that taken has really made him cautious about love at the very raw age of 20 (that's how old he'd be in 2033 right?)

Paige always says the right things, the timing just isn't always the right one.

AH omg honestly it means much to me that you think my dialogues are realistic. Especially ones like that one where it's kinda heavy, I'm always a little self-conscious that maybe it sounds too speech-y and fake so I'm so glad it doesn't come off that way.

I think Steph and Azzi grew pretty close before Stephie because he was already her mentor but once she actually got to Golden State, he really took her under her wing and became more family than just mentor (Steph possibily teared up at the idea of Azzi naming her daughter after him)

Quite LITERALLY down bad lmao

The thing with Azzi, I think, is that she's a little scared to be loved. Like Azzi holds both Paige and Stephie's hand in the palm of her hands, and she's scared that she'll accident hold them too hard and crush them.

I do think there will be a flashback to Azzi flying to Dallas but tbd which chapter!

LMAO they're not very good at the taking it slow thing are they?

You are so very sweet and I appreciated this so very much!

[oswlld]

oswlld's media wrap up: the oscars

note: i am trying something a bit different this year, so bear with me as i figure out how i want to format this. i wanted to spend more time sharing what i consume, beyond what i rb, and put my thoughts in one place. ✨ = personal fav

—

The Barber of Little Rock, YouTube (watched on 2/17) A sharp take on the economic injustice in the town divide of Little Rock. Very concise with its message, “A tree is known by the fruit that it bears. So, if I don’t see any fruit, I don’t see any impact. If you have money and you have wealth and you can’t create impact, what’s the point?” — Island in Between, YouTube (watched on 2/19) Loved the updated storytelling of displacement and crisis of identity when COVID-19 is thrown into the mix. I hope the families that have been torn apart due to COVID measures have/will be reunited soon. — Pachyderme, Vimeo (watched on 2/22) The medium matched the tone of the story wonderfully and the pacing was well executed. — The Last Repair Shop, Shortverse ✨ (watched on 2/23, pictured left) SPECTACULAR! Truly shines on every level. The only short that made me tear up in the end. — Invincible, Shortverse (watched on 2/25) The actor who portrays the protagonist is so talented! If he continues to nurture his acting, I can’t wait to see what he does next. — The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, Netflix✨ (watched on 3/2, pictured right) I truly believe this deserved the win, it was magical from beginning to end. It makes me want to backtrack and see the other Roald Dahl shorts. — Ninety-Five Senses, DOC+ ✨ (watched on 3/3, pictured top) This one took me by surprise! Beautiful storytelling and utilization of the theme and medium to its fullest potential. Very much worthy of its nomination, bravo. — Ridder Lykke, Shortverse (watched on 3/6) What a delightful way to end the shorts journey. The most unique, original take on grief that left me smiling.

Watched Nai Nai & Wài Pó (review here) and Letter to a Pig last year.

—

Nimona, Netflix (watched on 3/2) I am a simple person, I see those big brown eyes and I buckle. What a wild journey it has been to follow the development of this film and I am so happy for Nate and everyone involved. — Rustin, Netflix (watched on 3/4) One of the very few instances where I really wished a movie was produced as a limited series. I want his story to be fleshed out more, I wanted to feel the full weight of what that march did for him and for history. Colman Domingo’s charm shines in this role. — Elemental, Disney+✨ (watched on 3/7, pictured bottom) If you told me this time last year that this movie would leave me sobbing at 1am, I would have told you you were crazy and to get some rest. What else is there to say that others haven’t said already. I am so happy that the younger generations have this alongside the likes of Moana and Turning Red. — Poor Things, Hulu (watched on 3/11) This was… a film. I did like the aromantic aspects of Bella Baxter and the dynamic she has with Max. Still trying to sort through my thoughts, but the fact that it still can make me think is… something. — The Holdovers, Peacock✨ (watched on 3/12, pictured top) I love me a great ensemble cast and everyone was on the top of their game with this gem. The director, cinematographer, production designer, and colorist work together seamlessly. Fantastic, truly extraordinary. — American Symphony, Netflix (watched on 3/20) I had this film on my radar before the Oscar noms were announced, so I anticipated tackling this movie hoping it was part of the doc category. In the end, I chose to tackle this movie despite its only nom under Original Song. Having tackled the Documentary categories, this would have been one of the weaker ones amongst the docs I’ve seen but still a very worthy story to tell.

Watched Barbie and Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse last year; I hope to still catch Oppenheimer and Robot Dreams later this year.

—

Perfect Days, In Theaters ✨(JAPAN, watched on 2/15, pictured right) This was the only Oscar nom that I caught in theaters this year (whereas the majority were on YT/streaming). This movie will hold a very special place in my heart having experienced this in theaters with a great group of people. Wim Wenders deserved this nomination, this is one of his best. — Bobi Wine: The People’s President, Hulu (UGANDA, watched on 2/28) I am so glad I watched this movie. This is a true heavyweight of a film. So much passion, pain, and tenacity. — 20 Days in Mariupol, PBS (UKRAINE, watched on 3/6, DNF) I will be completely honest, I almost made it to the end but could not watch the last 20 minutes. During the Oscar speech, when the filmmaker said he wished he didn’t make this film, I felt every word of that. It is so, so hard to watch but NECESSARY. — El Conde, Netflix (CHILE, watched on 3/8) Of all the noms I had to catch up on this season, this was the only one that landed on mid for me. It is as advertised, a dark horror comedy, but it doesn’t challenge itself. The cinematography was its best attribute. — Four Daughters, Netflix✨ (TUNISIA, watched on 3/23, pictured middle) I’m positive this was the BEST thing I watched this Oscar season. I want to 🎶siiiiiiiiiIIIINNNGGGG all the highest praises🎵. I am obsessed with the way the filmmaker brings us a half step back behind the camera, showing all facets of the story in front of and behind the camera. I want to talk about it more but it’s better to go into this fresh. I’m obsessed, I’m obsessed, IM OBSESSEDDD. — Society of the Snow, Netflix✨ (URUGUAY, watched on 3/24, pictured left) If this movie came out ten years ago, my only wish is that hellsite would have obsessed over these boys the same way we did for all my Les Amis. The cherry on top was seeing that Michael Giacchino composed the score. What a way to end the Oscar watch journey this season.

I hope to still catch Io Capitano and The Boy and the Heron later this year.

—

Trigger Warnings for films mentioned :

INVINCIBLE : su*cide attempt (drowning)

POOR THINGS : medical dissection of the human body, su*cide (jumping)

BOBI WINE : illusions of torture, gun violence, hostage situations

20 DAYS IN MARIUPOL : graphic visuals of war tactics, amputations, child death, panic attacks

EL CONDE : beheading

FOUR DAUGHTERS : allusions to sexual abuse with a minor(s)

SOCIETY OF THE SNOW : graphic plane crash trauma, cannibalism

[hendolish]

Hiii babes, if you still take fic requests could you please write a part 2 to that Mason X Declan story? Now that the names for the September camp squad are out and both Mase and Dec are there could you write something about them meeting again and Mase so badly regrets ending things with Declan now that he sees how Declan seems to be getting on well with Saka so much. And he starts thinking a bit delulu thinking that there's something between Saka and Dec when Saka has a gf and isn't even into Dec like that. Anyway he regrets it and goes back to Dec. At first Declan doesn't want to talk to Mase but in the end he does talk to him and they get together officially. Thanksss💗💗

[note- anon did correct themselves about mason not being at camp but i stuck with it to make it easier <3]

mason mount/declan rice | a sequel to on hold ♡

Mason’s an idiot.

He’s known this himself for a long time, of course, but he’s really a spectacular idiot in this case for pushing Dec away.

It hadn’t made things easier or lessened the pain of miles between them. Everything would make Mason think of him, of moments they’ve shared together or silly little inside jokes, his fingers itching to pick up his phone and call.

But then he’d remember what he did to Dec. What he’d said. And the crushing sensation would close in on him all over again.

Anyway.

That’s how he finds himself stuck at SGP, grasping brief glances of Dec whenever he can, darting his eyes away before the other can turn and catch him, feeling like he can never find the right words to say.

It doesn’t help that Dec seems to be getting along just fine with all the Arsenal lot now.

Mason watches them together as they wander onto the pitch, some of the last to leave the changing room, Dec whispering something in Bukayo’s ear that causes the both of them to burst into raucous laughter.

He stares down at his boots instead, digging the studs into the grass to make patterns before Steve’s calling them all over to start the drill. Luke had been talking to him but Mason couldn’t find the attention to listen, so he just laughs and agrees when the other looks over to him expectantly.

It probably wasn’t the right thing to do because it causes Luke to frown before asking, “You okay?”

But Mason can’t do anything but wave him off once Steve starts talking, pointing at cones and waving a set of bibs in the air.

Dec doesn’t look at him as Steve hands them out and Mason tries to tell his heart it’s not allowed to sink. Not when he’s the reason Dec is being off with him.

He chose this, now he has to live with the consequences.

They have to partner up for the drill and Mason allows himself to hope far too much by sneaking Dec another glance, but he’s already walking away with Bukayo, snickering at whatever the younger is telling him with that megawatt grin on his face that Mason loves.

Well. He loves it when Dec is directing it at him.

“C’mon.”

Luke says after a moment, tugging on his arm towards a free space, and Mason forces everything to the back of his mind and gets his head down because he has to.

Because this is England and it’s always meant so much to him and Dec. This is their time together, and Mason’ll be damned if he’s about to lose that too.

—

He can’t help glaring at breakfast.

Dec and Bukayo are stuck together like glue again, stealing food off of each other’s plates and laughing about it. Mason suddenly feels sick.

“You’ve got to let it go mate.”

Luke tells him once he follows his gaze. Mason had told him everything last night when bearing the weight on his own had become too much.

“Or you’ve got to actually talk to him,” Luke then supplements, shaking his head to himself as he tucks back into his beans, “Getting nowhere just starin’. You trying to read his mind or something?”

Mason wishes he could. Instead he’s busy racking his brain over whether he’s heard Bukayo talk about his girlfriend in the past couple of months. Did they break up?

“Hmm? Yeah. I mean— I know,” When Luke gives him a doubtful look Mason’s voice jumps an octave higher as he protests, “I know okay! I’m working on it. I just don’t think he wants to speak to me.”

Luke’s eyes shift sympathetically for a second as he tells him that of course he does. Mason stays quietly unsure of that.

He gets his chance later in the day.

Their rooms at SGP are practically next door to each other because they’ve always requested for them to be close and, as always, the England staff had listened and remembered.

It would be sweet of them in any other circumstance, but when he and Dec exit their rooms at almost the exact same time, locking eyes as their doors click shut behind them, Mason can’t help but curse them a little.

“Hey.”

He says, hating how awkward it sounds because things have never been, and should never be, awkward between them.

“Hey.”

Dec replies, but it lacks his usual gusto and Mason can already see his eyes flickering back towards his room.

“Do you—“

Mason tries to start, not even really knowing what he wants to say, but Dec cuts him off.

“Can we—,” He runs a hand through his hair then, a habit Mason knows all too well, before taking a steadying breath, “Can we not do this today?”

Mason nods because there’s nothing else for him to do, despite him being unsure as to what this is.

“Okay,” Dec says, although it sounds more like he’s talking to himself, “Good. Well… I forgot my, uh, yeah. So I’ll just…”

And with that the other quickly disappears back into his room, leaving Mason in hallway, unsure of how to feel.

—

Mason stays true to his word and doesn’t bother him the rest of the day. He knows he has no right to after everything he’s put the other man through.

But finds he simply can’t wait any longer when he wakes the next morning, too early to go downstairs but late enough not to bother going back to sleep, and soon finds himself stood in front of Dec’s door, hand poised to knock.

A million thoughts race through his brain in the seconds it takes Dec to answer, but they soon all slip away when he sees Dec standing there, in the t-shirt he’s seen him sleep in a million times. The t-shirt he’s tugged off him and helped him re-dress with in haste.

It’s soft to touch, Mason knows, and warm when pressed against Dec’s skin. Finally, he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” He starts, and there’s really not a better opening to cover it all, “Dec, I’m— I can’t believe that I thought I could just—“

He cuts himself off there because he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. Not even if Dec had turned him away. He would’ve had every right to.

“Fuck,” He’s looking anywhere but at the other now, blinking rapidly, “I was such an idiot, I know that now. But I just… I couldn’t lose you, you know? I didn’t want to go through that, so I thought that maybe it would be better if I just— mmph.”

Dec stops him from going on with a bruising kiss.

Mason had known that he might ramble. That his explanation might not make any sense and he’d have to try a couple of times. But never did he think that Dec would get him to shut up by kissing him.

“You are a massive idiot,” Dec tells him after he pulls away, one hand still touching Mason’s cheek, “And it’s going to take a lot for you to make it up to me.“

“Whatever you want.”

He promises immediately, which launches a brightly amused grin onto Dec’s cheeks that Mason decides he never wants to see leave again.

“And can we stop being weird around each other now? I hate it.”

Dec adds, to which Mason easily agrees, and soon they’re lying on Dec’s bed together, side by side, and Mason’s reminding himself of the softness of Dec’s shirt again with a cautious hand.

“You’re still being weird.”

Dec declares then before taking Mason’s hand for him and placing it directly over his heart, feeling the steady thump of the rhythm there. When he glances back upwards, Dec’s watching him carefully.

“Yeah?” He asks, and all of a sudden Mason understands.

This thing between them is so much more than he could ever ask for and Dec… he wants it too and maybe always has. Mason feels like colourful fireworks are exploding in his chest, seeping into every crevice the past month has left behind.

“Yeah.”

He agrees breathily, as if speaking too loud may puncture the moment. Dec smiles across the bed at him before he’s pulling Mason back into his arms and slotting him against his chest like a puzzle piece.

Dec emits a loud, but content-sounding, sigh before he admits, “I bought you flowers and everything, you know. Was gonna be proper romantic.”

That makes Mason feels ten times worse, like a heavy weight has settled in his stomach, but Dec notices quickly and is soon peppering his face with kisses.

“Hey, it’s alright yeah? It worked out in the end. Everything always does with us.”

Mason can’t help but still feel bad.

“I ruined it though,” He says, taking Dec’s hand to squeeze and hold to his chest, “You were trying to be lovely and I just—“

Dec shushes him then, placing a kiss to his lips instead. It’s all in the past.

“I’ll buy you flowers again, yeah? And you can kiss me or hug me or do whatever you would’ve wanted to do back then.”

Mason looks over at him silently for a moment, taking in Dec’s soft gaze and the grounding reassurance in his words, wondering how on earth he’d gotten so lucky.

He closes the gap between them again then because he feels a sudden urge to make up for any time together they may’ve lost whilst he was busy being an idiot.

“Okay.”

Mason tells Dec through a giddy smile, heart soaring amongst the clouds.

I love you.

He thinks then, storing it away for another day.

♡

[gwynndolin]

Jiminy by Bear Ghost has been on repeat for me frequently since it released last fall!

Wow, I genuinely was not expecting to like this as much as I did. When I first started listening I was kind of like "Ahh, this kinda sounds like something that would get pretty big as a Tiktok sound for a hot second because someone made a Hazbin Hotel shipping fancam". Kinda got some Will Wood stuff, some Jukebox The Ghost stuff (specifically around the Off To The Races era where they really embraced the Queen comparisons), and I was like, okay i'll probably pretty well enjoy this but nothing especially spectacular here. Then I got to the end of the first song, After Me, The Flood and it had that big glitched out part into Heavy News and I was like. Ohhhhh... OKAY....

I still stand by what I said absolutely though, like especially with Will Wood comparison, specifically like the sort of showtune-like aspects to a lot of the individual tracks on the records, which is probably where the "Tiktok shipping fancam" feeling comes from (see Peas & Love, I feel like that song was carefully designed in a lab to have a bouncy, exciting, decent to well edited video of two characters that hate each other and want each other to die but the fandom desperately needs them to have a moment). It's pretty clear this album wants to be like, somewhat culture critical about the current state of some parts of society, but honestly a lot of the lyrics really fall short of necessarily saying anything particularly interesting about the matter and just come off as pretty juvenile in that regard. Like, Rivers is a Vampire is clearly about high society and excess and sucking out the life from everything and its a great song for sure but its also just like. Yeah you sure did the rich people vampire metaphor again! Which is also another point towards it being very Tiktok consumable. That being said I'm only kind of using "tiktok consumable" as a pejorative here, but it is why I wasn't expecting to enjoy it as much.

Anyway this album has a pretty clear tonal voice here, like the songs do not really dip out of that same, bright, showtune-like quality, so there's not really many moments where the album slows down and takes a break from how hyper it is, which maybe as a full album is not such a good thing, but a lot of these songs individually would be a really great playlist spot.

I'm realizing now that most of this review has sounded like, extremely negative about the whole album, which is funny because so far this is like the most fun I've had listening and catching up with these music asks, I've already listened to the album through like 2 or 3 times and skipped around and re-listened to my fave tracks so. I don't really know what that means for my long term feelings about this album, but as it stands,

I'm feeling a really good 8/10 on this one

if I was pretty drunk and in a great mood I'm sure this album would've hit like 9/10 for me. I'm really into it, I might check out some of Bear Ghost's earlier stuff and see if I'd like it as much.

Fave songs: After Me, The Flood, Heavy News, Rivers is a Vampire, Big Town Banky Blaine’s Rockabilly BBQ, The Mario Cliché, When I’m Dead, Vulture

[emmy-noethers-rings]

Right friends it’s musical analysis time:

Spirit box radio has yet again decided to have its (musical) theme echo the (literary) themes of the piece and I’m vibrating why is this music so good. It’s doing exaaactly what a theme should and connecting the dots so nicely and and It’s so fucking good. Ok so

We have, in yhe most recent episode (sbr 3.12, solitude) the idea of the arcane space collapsing (shocking I know but bear with me) and Samael says something to the tune of “I’m telling thousands of stories, so of course it’s hard to keep track of the edges (of them)”. And of course

This gets reflected in the music. Our outro theme (havent given the intro a proper listen yet) consists of two parts: a) reverbed to hell and back strings/synth and b) the punch to the gut muted xylophone? Bells? (We’ll get into this but I’m no musicologist) that ends the piece

So for the first part, we have a simple variation on the main sbr theme that has been well established since season 1. This is fine and not super interesting, bc most of it sits underneath the credits, but it helps to bridge the gap between the ideas of a radio staticky spirit box and the main theme. It’s quiet, a little haunting, and normal (for the most part). It’s not something you’re going to catch, and it’s not something you really need to catch. The important bit tho is the faux-normality of the theme, which causes us to think that (barring the plot of. The episode) things are more or less fine (which is bs but again not the point at this moment). It’s very much samaels perspective on how things should be going - reminiscent of the world that was, holding on to the echos of the past, but not interesting or particularly good in its own right. This sets up the interesting part tho bc:

Part b) the fuck you it’s time to flip that on it’s head now. So,, we get the main theme again, loud and clear, with no credits to distract us. Played on a xylophone (I think? Idk I was a strings player it sounds like it’s a padded mallet hitting something made of metal, which is then immediately dampened). The theme played here is a perfectly straight (again, surprising given the characters ;] tehe) 4/4 quarter note 2 bar phrase. That takes the rhythms we’re used to and says. Nah fuck that. It’s so jarring. Eight eighth notes that so beautifully capture and bastardize the theme we’re used to that make it feel so flat and uninteresting (which still being musically beautiful but it’s not time to talk about phrasing rn). This so perfectly encapsulates what’s happening in the plot. These eight notes are the story (the one we the listeners know all too well) being retold by samael in this arcane space: flat, hitting every beat exactly, what is supposed to happen, containing the things that should be joyous, and absolutely failing to do anything correctly. It’s like you told someone to rewrite Haydns C major to be played by a elementary school band. It’s “correct” but so far down the uncanny valley that it’s just. Wrong. And no phrasing or dynamics or instrumentation or anything could fix that.

Now it’s time to discuss the choice of instrument. I wrote above that the melody feels flat - and that’s (to me) mostly due to the choice to immediately dampen each note, separating it from the other notes around it. This kills most phrasing you could do with the measure (again, not all, bc it doesn’t sound like bong bong bong bong bong bong bong bong but that’s neither here nor there) and forces the listener to hear the notes as 8 distinct entities. It’s great it spectacular it makes the piece work so well and really adds to the analysis above but idk how to explain it

[reviewsfromreel]

Boston Strangler (2023) - Review

Director: Matt Ruskin

1h 52mins

Drama, Crime, Biography

In 1960’s Boston, Journalist Loretta McLaughlin is the first to spot a connection between a string of murders leading to the investigation of the infamous ‘Boston Strangler’. 

The niche subgenre of journalistic investigation is spearheaded by Alan Pakula’s All the President’s Men and, more recently, Tom McCarthey’s spectacular Spotlight. Both films are a testament to this specific type of film, balancing the genre tropes of mystery and giving us real stories told with panache and honesty. Matt Ruskin’s newest film does bear a resemblance to both of those films both in style and narrative, but its unbalanced script and half-hearted tackle of misogyny leave it paling in comparison. 

At some point in the narrative the film loses you. You could argue that this is a true-to-life reflection of the Police’s skewed and scattered investigation but what Ruskin, who also wrote the screenplay, can’t seem to find is any coherence between the multiple threads he’s pulling on. Loretta’s home life taking a hit, the botched investigation and the collision between press and police all seem to get shuffled about with no real substance, lacking the extra punch that films of this genre regularly have. Fincher’s Zodiac is the prime example, with no clear conviction in its true story, it balances coherence with an enigmatic quality with ease – but Boston Strangler struggles to find that balance all the way through. 

While the film’s narrative may be challenging, it’s able to capture the time and setting well, showing us the bleakness of a city shaken by murders. The dreary colour palette and smoky rooms really plays a part in creating the film’s tone – adding the enigmatic qualities that the film so desperately needs. However, it’s less of a crowning achievement and more of a fleeting triumph for a film that is so underwhelming.

A story of such infamy is always going to be interesting, but in the right hands this could have joined the elite groups of films that stand as the best of the genre. Aside from some strong supporting performances by great character actors and a consistent tone, Boston Strangler stumbles at every narrative hurdle – unable to capture anything poignant despite challenging so many themes.

2/5

[saintbarou]

HSJSHJS OKAY ILL CAVE IN ILL PLAY IT AFTER FINALS AND SPAM YOU ALL ABOUT IT

i have the game at home but i’ve never played it, two of my siblings finished it and say that it’s amazing so 👀 im curious to play, oh also i’ve heard many people talk about the attention to detail and how it’s so good to the point where they accidentally came across a bear and a wolf fighting bc of a deer carcass like woah the world is worlding, animals are existing n doing their own thing and you’re just a character that happens to live in the same world instead of it being the world revolves around the main character- ALSO SOMETHING I SAW ON YOUTUBE (it caught on to my arthur brainrot and tried to get me to play the game 💀) WHEN NPCS CUT THEIR FOOD AND USE A FORK TO EAT IT ITS THE SAME CUT SHAPE THAT THEY CUT AND IT SHOWS EXACTLY ON THE PLATE TOO LIKE WOAH ATTENTION TO DETAIL!!

this got me curious; what is something about the game that you find interesting/cool/neat? and what is your favorite thing about the game? 👀

YES !!! TO THE WHOLE TOP PART ! red dead 2 is by far rockstar’s most artistic game and the amount of detail that went into it is spectacular - that with the story of the game makes it One of the Games of My Life (with bg3) as a game i was so blessed to experience as a piece of art

my favorite thing about the game is the interactions at camp - its a solid way to immerse yourself in the game and it really makes you care about the story and the characters in a way i think is rare to most people !

[bigbloatedblueberry]

ACT 01 | UNSYSTEMATIC AFFECTIONS AIR – A STEALTH ELEMENTARY ELEMENT OF ORLANDO’S CORPUS – FLIRTINGLY ENTERS WITH HEAVY LIGHT WINDS

[heavy light steps approaching they just stopped someone moves a delicate left hand to the right side of the, from the public’s perspective, unseen part of the stage silence follows how come? well, there cannot be real silence anyway] LIGHT! [which one? well, of course the kind of white but not really white one you mean the one that feels transparent? YES got it]

[commentator – sun // narrator – moon] A spot just a bit left, yet right, of the completely otherwise blackened stage of this meteoric parliamentary circularly spectacular kind of in between place got lighted! Color? A not defined kind of milky yet cold but warm white one but not white one – or other. Has the flair of brave windy tales. A persona stands there. Lighted yet in shadow. One cannot make out any specific facial features – the persona wears steady music. Well, never mind. According to one’s ears, the standing in standing persona seems ready and precisely not in need of an examination. One can say so according to the length of the personas’ shoulders, always combined with the depth of the all-around playfully thrown shadows. This is, after all, a well-known truth, a one, that can only itself be true in an absurd location of an efficient revolution, that one, which expands to a dislocated placement of an avant-gardian manifestation between the vaporous and the solid vertical perspectives, like this not specific one, we all find ourselves yesterday.

[air] I shall here attempt to explain some of these affections (for I do not undertake to deal with them all) and to set them apart from those designations that are not affections of any being [1] whose flat reflexion above a virtual engagement seeks to dare an arranged systematicity out of a systematic arrangement. Now, in the first place, neither discovery nor occupation can have any bearing upon freedom of trade. [2]

An interior openness outside a standard ideal of an adamantine body was said to know where a heavy breathing between light shadows can be felt: somewhere in between stammered denials of fragmented shapes in the domain of imaginary space and overlapping windows without measure or reference point. Detienne and Vernant therefore add even more boldly: “One meditates or constructs a cunning ploy in the same way as one fits together the various pieces of wood from which the trap is constructed, which form the instrument of the deception.” The above formulation, then, needs a little adjustment: the techne of building cannot reach the status of an appearance without any metis.[3] But, the techne of building, with a reciprocal dependency, that floats in touched time and flows in heard space, amidst seriously loving everything that is broken up and dances in the curious in between, can for sure start to wholeheartedly laugh, which is the status of an appearance with a hint of a metis.

[commentator – sun // narrator – moon] Well, in that case, we can yesterday start with this spectacle. After all, the first of the 4 was just gifted to you, dear private public of this meteoric parliamentary circularly spectacular kind of in between place.

[salonshop]

EyeContact (NZ)

In this spectacular, cleverly organised exhibition by Mokopōpaki we have several artists sporadically participating alongside Roman Mitch, but Mitch’s own sensibility (a dense mix of Duchampian referencing, a love of the mechanical innards, workings and outer cases of HDD and SSD technology, and use of Māori concepts) absolutely dominates. The gallery space where many of these works were first exhibited was ludicrously narrow, so being presented here in Pakuranga achieves a major transformation.

The show, with about thirty items, is rich in Duchampian allusion, and fun because of that: Wedge of Chastity, Trap, The Large Glass, Bachelors and Sieves, Rotoreliefs, “Fresh Widow”, Why Not Sneeze Rose Sélavy?, Bicycle Wheel, Dust Breeding, Chocolate Grinder (No. 2), Faulty Landscape, Given: 1. The Waterfall, 2. The Illuminating Gas..., A Glider Containing a Water Mill in Neighbouring Metals, Nine Malic Moulds, Three Standard Stoppages, Duchamp Playing Chess with a Nude (Eve Babitz). There are dozens of references. They never seem to end.

Plus, besides Duchamp’s Wedges, Yllwbro’s row of doorstops might also refer to Man Ray’s Gift—the iron with a vertical line of nasty carpet tacks down its centre. Or Mitch’s Zero Gravitas, with its suspended Miss Crabb Rise dress and attracted electroplated clusters, is possibly also a reference to Marcel Broodthaers’ Maria, with its black coat and egg-covered bag.

My favourite work is Rangitauninihi’s The Discipline of Choosing, a large section of gridded steel fence languidly leaning against the wall with a saucy black slip flung over the top. It seems to be feeding on Mokopōpaki’s textual contribution interviewing the artist about her very focussed choice in clothing, while also drawing in “Fresh Widow,” and Why Not Sneeze Rose Sélavy?, the birdcage, marble and cuttlefish work.

Mitch and his Mokopōpaki colleagues have set up a considered, elegant show that looks amazing with its pieces of checkerboard flooring and impeccably positioned panel-stencil-sprayed computer side panels, fetishized dark glass and b/w aluminium cases, a row of hard drive platters, a row of door wedges, and clusters of clinging chrome-plated ball bearings, clips and magnets. Though very ordered, the whole thing reeks of constrained delirium.

Mitch’s own suspended curtain of LED lights appears to reference The Illuminating Gas and The Waterfall, while his sprayed on electroplated and abraded side panels present an overt link to Chocolate Grinder. While these days computers are regularly commented on as enabling compulsive onanistic practices, I’m not sure that is quite Mitch’s point—though it probably is. It looks like, as with Duchamp, an allegory about art (the bride) and her desiring ‘bachelor’ viewers.

The nature of art recursively perpetuating itself is another big speculative factor, computer case panels here often serving as stencilling templates for coating other computer case panels, that also possibly serve as stencilling…etc.

This sprawling (in parts self-conscious and fiddly) Te Tuhi show is a bit unwieldy, but because it is extremely rich in art historical, conceptual and visual interconnections—and dynamically an optical treat, despite being in thrall to Duchamp—it rewards exploration. If I were curator I wouldn’t have included Mitch’s Art Store Drawings, or the works by Penelope Sue or Marcel Tautahi and Ngaroma Natalia, but I can see formally why they are mixed in. And if I were a fluent speaker of Māori or an expert on the finer science underpinning electro-mechanical data storage, I might determine if there is an important dimension or trope to many of the work titles I have not hitherto grasped—perhaps cross-cultural puns.

Whatever the case, the exhibition’s infectious formal exuberance and distinctive conceptual intricacy make it a compelling experience for any curious visitor. A physically and mentally engaging installation.

John Hurrell, Roman Mitch at Te Tuhi (Auckland: EyeContact, 26 October, 2022)

[tuliprry]

sunbeam 4

prompt: ballerina!yn x barista!harry, y/n is a ballerina and harry works at the café in the same building, both have a little crush on each other

warnings: mostly fluff, some smut (please do not read if you're not 18 or older because this isnt for you), mentions of kinks, mentions of anxiety

word count: 2.2k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5 extras

may 29th

harry's heart is about to beat out of his chest, he's front row at a local theatre, about to see his y/n perform, he has another bouquet of tulips to give her at the end of the show, he feels like when they first went on a date, nervous shits, sweaty palms and a tummy ache. the seat next to him is empty and has a paper saying "y/n y/l/n's mother", only making his anxiety even worse, y/n's mum speaks little to zero english and his portuguese isn't exactly the best. 

"hello harry" a woman slightly taller than y/n says, "ohhh oh um olá (hello)!" his brain starts acting up immediately, y/n's mum sits next to him and they're just sitting in silence as they wait for everything to start.

 y/n was the dewdrop fairy, the lead in one of the waltzes, harry was so proud, he was mesmerised, she was so beautiful and looked so professional up there, his point still stood, she was out of a music box and he could stare at her for a lifetime, just watching her spin and spin, just for him.

harry and y/n's mum were at the auditorium doors after the show, waiting for y/n, her mum had a winnie the pooh bear with her, y/n's favourite disney character, harry knew that, he just thought flowers were the appropriate thing for a ballerina. y/n walks out of the backstage door with one of her colleagues, mimi, mimi was from another ballet studio but they got along super well, easing y/n while performing.

"mimi, my make up is burning my eyes"

"tell me fucking about it, i don't know who said ballerinas need make up to dance i actually can't see shit in front of me"

y/n ran to her mum first, "mamã!" she hugged her tight,  speaking in portuguese way too fast for harry's knowledge on the language, then she kissed him, it was a passionate kiss, they've been getting even more passionate lately, sometimes harry feels like keeping up with her will lead him to death, "i got you tulips" he smiled and handed her the bouquet with a little note.

"y/n, my most recently beloved blonde, i'm insanely proud of you my sweet girl, my bunny, my tulip, i love you so much.

amo-te,

harry"

y/n smiled at the reference of her recently bleached blonde hair and then held her tears back at harry's word in portuguese, he had said it to her a few times and every single time she sheds a tear on how powerful that word is to her. "também te amo (i love you too)" she says kissing him again.

june 15th

harry is seriously thinking about quitting his barista job, he spent the last two months reading into how to self publish and he’s finally ready to sit down with y/n and say he’s quitting, so moving in together could be happening quicker than what they had planned as harry would get a huge cut on his usual income but he needed to fully focus on writing only and he had enough poetry and y/n’s photography to publish his own book. he rehearsed it in his apartment alone a billion times, “i need to quit my barista job to start focusing on editing this book and publishing it…. no god no.. um i have to quit my barista job. too harsh harry too harsh”. he didn’t want to make such a big decision without y/n, especially after a really long talk a few nights ago about… what if in two or three years they got married and started a family, she was there and he couldn’t just make a rash decision by myself on a book he might just lose money from. 

y/n finished her final year at university with spectacular grades thanks to her internship that became a paid job offer the same day she graduated, yesterday. so today she sped up to the studio she now officially worked at, setting up her own desk with her laptop and her stuff for when she’s in to edit some photos, she already has a semi busy schedule, except for 4th to 10th of july, when she’s going to italy with harry to celebrate her birthday, she was so happy she could burst in tears at her desk. she comes back home around lunch time to tell harry how amazing her little office at the studio is.

“harry!! i’m home i brought us some shake shack!” she says, taking her sandals off at the entrance of his house, “you have to come over and see my tiny office, it’s so cute and i have an amazing view to those big greenwich buildings and the tulips you got me for graduation just look so beautiful there, i also put up a photo of poppy, oli and you, ah i’m so happ- what’s wrong?” y/n placed the paper bag with food on the tea table, “y/n.. i have to quit my barista job” the girl was on her knees in front of him, trying to look him in the face, holding his hand and rubbing it gently, “i really want to publish my book, i’m not happy, i’m always late for magazine deadlines, i honestly only like to go because i get to see you and it’s how we met, i don’t ever want you to feel like i’m turning my back on you, my god i love you so much.” y/n was silent for a second, “harry.. i would never expect you to be a barista for your whole life, you’re a poet harry, this was a side job until you felt like it was time so if it is time go ahead, i’m here, do you need help looking into publishers? i can talk to some photographers who have released books and how they did it, seriously harry, you were born to be an author, i could never be mad” harry sniffled and looked at y/n, thinking of how she truly is an angel in his life. “fuck, i love you so much… shake shack was it?”, “mhm! let’s please it while it’s warm please? and then i promise i’ll start helping with your book”.

july 7th

palinuro, italia

it’s y/n’s birthday, harry woke her up at 8:30am to officially wish her a happy birthday at the exact time she was born, their days in italy have been so recharging he feels 22 like y/n, they’re staying at an airbnb, a whole italian villa just for the two of them. there’s a little patio with a whole bunch of flowers and vines, they’re currently having breakfast there, sweet strawberry jam on toast and a lot of cheeses, seriously they’ve been feasting on cheeses the entire time. 

*smut*

“harry… i know we just woke up but god, i need you so bad”  harry's lips immediately met y/n's, he could feel himself harden with a simple kiss but this woman left him absolutely on edge every single time, the kiss was passionate, almost violent, trying to find their way to the bedroom without stopping the kiss, harry's hands traveled through y/n's body, gripping at her love handles, god he loved her love handles, "god bunny", he whispered, getting her silky cream night gown out of the way, her nipples were fully erect without harry even touching them, the power he has over her is seriously out of this world, "if i put my hand inside your panties, how wet are you going to be, princess?" she could feel herself melt even more as his left hand held onto her and the right one did what he was saying, "so fucking wet aren't ya? all for me huh? all for daddy?" y/n tried to speak words but all out of her mouth were whimpers and sighs, "cmon lay down, let daddy take care of you".

y/n's legs are still shaky from earlier, the entire time on the car to the city she would close her eyes and take little power naps with her head rested on the jeep window. y/n doesn't really know how the whole daddy thing started, she moaned it accidentally one day and ever since they have explored it .... a lot, harry thinks y/n is the brattiest person he has dated, she has a true princess side but he just loves when she gets tough for him, just to melt the moment he says the word princess. "bunny wake up, we're here" harry says, turning off the car, "did daddy tire you out?" he asks with a cocky smile on his face, "just help me out, please" and so he did. the birthday lunch was at a little restaurant in the city centre, they've been eating good in italy, especially cacio e pepe, they also share a lot of deserts, some locals even ask them if they just had gotten married by the amount of touching and kissing, harry doesn't really understand much, he just waits for y/n to speak and then translate back to him, finding one of her hottest traits to speak italian.

for dinner they drove to napoli for a more fancy dinner in the city, or so y/n thought, harry saved enough money up to take y/n on a boat date, just for the two of them. harry was wearing brown corduroy pants and a pink shirt that was already half unbuttoned because of the weather. y/n has a long beige silk dress with little applications of tulle on the skirt and lace on her cleavage, white high heel sandals. "you're a goddess y/n, thank you for showing me heaven"

september 24th

harry has officially quitted his barista job, y/n was there for him to say goodbye to his friends and make sure he wouldn't back out, he had a book deal, he couldn't back out now, he got a little emotional saying goodbye to the place he met y/n at but y/n made sure to remind him what mattered was what they lived not where.

y/n and harry ended up moving in together in his apartment, y/n already spent so much of her time there and to help with money she just moved in a few nights ago, it has been chaotic to say the least, they've got an insane book collection both of them and no space for the 500 books they own, y/n has a lot of decorative pieces and harry has been choosing which one of his he wants to get rid off, thank god poppy and oli love each other and immediately falling asleep cuddling each other. one thing was easy, the kitchen, y/n loves cooking so making the kitchen more hers was something harry wanted to do, it has her plants and a filled up fruit basket, photos and magnets on the fridge, she turned his regular kitchen into a place it always smells good and feels like home. as for the rest of the house they're working on it, waking up next to each other and going to sleep without ever wanting to be away made up for the indecisiveness of the interior décor of the house.

"maybe we could get a rug we both like instead of arguing about bathroom rugs" y/n says holding her peach rug, "but bunny you love that peach rug... i don't think i mind if we get rid of mine" harry meant it, throughout these 10 months he knows how much y/n loves getting out of the shower and rub her feet on the peach rub, it's literally a peach. "are you sure?", "100%"

y/n has been working in multiple projects at the same time, romeo and juliet has been taking a lot of her time at the studio with mimi, they've been cast as rosaline and lady montague. "bunny we need a night out, we've been working so much, i miss you”, he means it, he has spent so many days looking at his poetry he’s starting to miss all the things they used to do when they started dating, he wouldn’t call it a love slump, they’re just so busy that when they get home they end up falling asleep, “yes, i miss you”, she can’t help but to shed a tear, “do you think me moving in was a mistake? i don’t want you to get tired of me”, harry sat on the bathroom floor with her, “tired of you? i could never, you’re my better half y/n, i would totally be lost without you in my life”, “promise?”, “i promise you”. 

they decided to order in, big boxes of vegan sushi and ate them sitting on the sofa watching taskmaster, a show they’ve been watching together since they started dating, it feels light and funny and it always gets their mind off the hard topics talked about between them.

“do you think you could open a watermelon with your thighs?”

“of course bunny”

“i’d like to see that”

“are you implying i can’t do it?”

“i’m sure you can’t do it”

y/n's birthday posts

i fear part 5 will be the last

taglist: @his-only-angel-1989 @oscarissacsslut @odilevonbrekker @youd0ntkn0wm3 @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[asset35-maya]

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

//

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

//

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

//

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

//

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

//

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

//

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

//

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

//

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

//

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

//

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

//

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

//

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

[doctorbeth]

Stripes the 50 year old tiger

This will be a longer post, because it’s all about the details, and there was a lot of going back and forth with photos and emails to get Stripes and his stripes just right.  So be sure you’re comfy when you sit down to read it. :-)

***************

Stripes person first wrote to me back in December about her tiger, Stripes, and his companion RedEye the snake.  Both were starting to feel their age, but as she said,

“ As you can see Stripes is in the most need of repairs. Personally, I’m guessing that a full recovering is needed, but I’m certainly no expert and will follow your advice.  Here are some pics which show Stripes fur disappearing and soon he will be bald.  Amazingly he has no damage that I can find. His ears need some stuffing, but they have never been tall, firm standing Teddy Bear ears.”

Here are the diagnosis photos she sent:

As you can see, his belly section was pretty good, but his furry parts were wearing and fading.  His person really wanted his fur recovered, in an orangier rather than tanner fur, and she opted for him to have a spa too.

Here he is in his bubble bath:

Once he was dry, he got restuffed and of course, got a heart with a bit of his original stuffing.  Here’s his heart being made:

Then it was time to choose furs.  As some of you know who’ve been reading for a while, usually with tigers we use a solid fur of the preferred background color, then add the stripes by hand afterwards.  Here were the best fur options:

His person opted for the orangier, furrier one.

Stripes got recovered, and some smaller wounds on his belly were sewn.  Then, it was time for hand striping.  I did some basic  striping, and then sent photos for feedback:

His person’s first response was:

Beth, you’ve made me cry at work.  I’m absolutely over the moon with Stripes new look!!!  Holy cats he’s looking beautiful!!  You are AMAZING!

But I was asking for striping feedback, and she happily provided it:

The stripes.  Thank you for being so conservative. :) I would like to add some more stripes. I’ve included an updated pic that shows where I would like some stripes added.

Tail:   Could you put 2 stripes in a ring pattern around the tail? They continue the black spots you started. I also noticed with other Gund tigers that the ring was painted at a slight angle or sprayed as 2 “halves”, not a straight ring that looked like a raccoon’s tail. (pics)  I know that there was more black at the tip of the tail, but I don’t think the whole tip was black.

Back Leg:   I’ve continued your 3 spots into stripes.

Body:  I’ve added 2 stripes, but if you will notice stripe #2 is in the shape of a ‘V”. (I remember this detail as a child)  The stripes do NOT have to line up with the fabric underneath.  They didn’t before.  :D

Face: I’ve added a short stripe above Stripes’ right eye. This detail always gave him a slight serious look without being mean. (not a lot of slant to the line, if any) I have always loved this detail about him.  And I’ve elongated the stripe on his forhead.

Beth, I’m pretty sure we will be adding some more stripes to the back, especially his head but I thought we might tackle this bit first.

She closed with:

Again, I just absolutely can’t thank you enough for your beautiful and loving work on my best friend. I have been showing people the before and after pics for the last 5 hours.  I’m so happy!!!

So back to drawing stripes on Stripes I went.  Here are the next batch of photos:

Stripes person was thrilled:

Stripes looks spectacular!!  I mean he is just awesome with the stripes that you’ve filled out.

She wanted just one more stripe.  She sent a photo, but it was in another format, so I won’t put it here, but she also described what she wanted very well:

So I just have 1 more stripe for you.  If you look at my pic, you will see that I’ve drawn a line over the small black dot that is on his forehead.  In the last pic you sent me you can still see that it’s just a spot and not a stripe.  Could you lengthen that spot into a stripe for me?

Please note the position. When you are seated facing Stripes, this stripe includes/starts at the black spot and runs towards the right.  You have a pretty stripe that’s higher on the head already placed on the left so this one goes off to the right and is the same length as that one.

Adjustment made, I sent another photo (you can see the printout with her line instruction next to him):

Her response:

Perfection Achieved!  I’m so so happy!!!!   How many exclamation points can I put in an email to show you how perfect Stripes is!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Stripes got packed up and headed home to a grateful human and snake.  Here he is at home with his pal, RedEye:

His person was soooo happy!  She wrote a very long thank you, with a history of Stripes and RedEye, and I don’t want to edit it, so I’m copying it entirely here for you to read.  But you can skip it if you want and just know she was happy!

Hi Beth,

Sit back and relax.  This may be a little bit of a long happy read.  :D   Please feel free to use any content or pics from my emails for your blog.

I waited anxiously for Stripes to arrive.  Yes, my husband signed for the box and I couldn’t wait to get home!

And so the moment has arrived.  I brought Stripes best friend Redeye in from the bedroom to help me open the package. We open,  I close my eyes dig in past the packing peanuts and pull out our best friend.  Oh My Goodness!  He is beautiful! bright! and colorful! He practically glows! I see his face. Yes, yes! It’s Stripes!  I see the same face I’ve gazed into and loved for 50 years. And that’s when the tears start. Crying, mouth open in shock but my husband says he’s never seen me happier.  ..After many long years, I can finally cuddle my friend again.

Beth you have given me back something I thought I would never have again.  I love Stripes so, but I couldn’t, didn’t dare to pet him or cuddle him. I had to be so gentle, so afraid that I was doing more damage to him. But now all that is over!  I can sleep with my buddy by my side. I can take him on vacations again!  I’m tearing up just writing this.  I can’t express my joy…absolute joy over the work you have done. Stripes looks like a beautiful and bright toy again.  Thank you Beth.  Thank you so very much.

…And I’ll be sending Redeye to you some time in February.  I’ll be sure to email you first to start the process.

And here’s a little history about Stripes.  Stripes was a Christmas present in 1969. I have always loved tigers and I was in deep love the moment I saw him. He has enjoyed play tea parties with me, and watched drive-in movies sitting in the back window. He has looked over the candy hauls that I collected during Halloween and been in a beautiful oak tree during the crisp dry autumn. (Carefully placed on a towel, but he needed to experience a tree. He is a tiger after all.)   He has been with me in Japan for a year and traveled all over the US northwest  looking out of a train window. And he has done all these things with Redeye by his side.

--But let’s face the facts, in the last few years my friend was disappearing before my eyes. There was good fortune that his seams were okay but the fur was coming off. His stripes were completely gone in areas. He was looking more yellow everywhere. And I dared only to pat him. That’s when I began to search for help to restore my friend and so I found Realms of Gold on the internet.

Beth has been wonderful, corresponding with emails and working out details by sending pictures back and forth. She listened to my input and was absolutely amazing at applying the stripes in the right places. We actually discussed exactly where to put them.  :D  I trust Beth’s skills so much that I will be sending Stripes best friend Redeye along soon.  He was amazed and so happy with Stripes look, that he can’t wait to go to Realms of Gold!

Okay Beth, this may be a little serious but I wanted to express my honest feelings, and let you know why this has been so important to me.

With my 2 stuffed animals loosing hair and looking tired a sobering thought occurred to me. If something happened to me, what would happen to them? We have no children to give them to. We can’t donate them because being so worn out, no one would take them. And the thought that they might end up in a garbage bin was too much. Of course for me, my goal was to pet, play and enjoy them again.  That goes without saying.  But now, seeing Stripes beautiful bright colors, I am happy and secure in knowing that years from now, I can donate or will him to a children’s home where he will continue to be loved. (I have several friends who grew up in orphanages and we think it’s a wonderful idea.)

Thank you so much Beth!!!!!!

I don’t know about all of you, but that made me smile all day. :-)

[misvet]

The Space In Between: Ch. 7

Fears & Fevers (Part 1)

Omega is sick. She proceeds to panic.

Set between S1E10 and S1E11

**SPOILER WARNING: Some references to pre-S1E11 events**

Ch. 1-3 (Chaos & Control): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 Ch. 4-6 (Hushed Whispers): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 Ch. 7-? (Fears & Fevers): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Coming Soon

Omega stared doggedly down at her boots as they trudged through the undergrowth. All of her willpower focused on forcing her feet to move, each step a concerted effort. At this point, it felt more like wading through thick tar than brittle leaf litter.

One foot. In front of the other. Keep going. Don't trip.

This is what she had wished for. To be brought on the missions. To be part of the team. If she wanted it to stay that way, she knew she had to hustle.

Her game of dejarik against Hunter had been an infuriatingly close win, but even so, she wasn't about to give him any reason to back out of their deal. No. She was determined to prove her worth. Prove that she could be just as tough, as fast, as fearless as the rest of them. Prove that she was good enough... to be a Batcher.

No matter... how tired she was, no matter... how much she ached.

Fortunately, the prospect of being left behind again… was a very good motivator.

One foot. Then another. Keep up. Don't fall behind.

Flanked on all sides by the rustling sounds of the Batch hiking in tandem around her, she concentrated on following Hunter's path. His footprints were evident, even to her novice skill, pressed lightly into the vegetative carpet of the forest floor.

Unable to help herself, she briefly marvelled at how pretty the fallen leaves were. They were huge. Flat and broad, with spiky edges and spiderweb veins, auburn like the setting suns. Even these ones, dry, dead, and crunching underfoot, were beautiful. She imagined that those alighting the enormous trees around them must be even more vibrant and spectacular, but she couldn't bear to lift her head to admire them.

For some reason, the sky was sharp today, and it hurt to look up at it.

Not seeing Hunter's 'hold position' signal, she yelped with surprise as she ran face-first into the rear of his armour and was knocked clean off her feet. Tumbling ungracefully onto her backside, she hissed as her palms scraped across the gnarled roots of a tree, and her tailbone bore the brunt of the impact. A jolt of pain rocketed up her spine and she clutched at her head, afraid it was about to pop off. She hadn't even bumped into him that hard, but there was a pressure mounting in the base of her skull that seemed to suggest otherwise.

She moaned as Wrecker's voice bellowed in her ear. "Hey, you alright, kid??"

Wincing, she opened her eyes, and they immediately grew wide at the sight that greeted her. They were… back on the Havoc Marauder.

Wait… when did we--?

"How's that knock to the noggin' treatin' ya? Hah, I've been there, kid". Wrecker was hunkered down in front of her, grinning at her sympathetically.

She was sitting in the common room, but when she tried to recall how she got there, she was met with an impenetrable wall of fog. A stinging sensation came into focus and she looked down at her hands to find them cleaned and dressed with a few small Bacta patches. Omega glared at them with utter confusion, as if they belonged to someone else.

What--?

"Omega?"

She blinked, and suddenly Wrecker was gone. In his place was Echo, holding a ration bar and fixing her with a wearisome expression, as if he had been standing there attempting to get her attention for half a rotation. Glancing around, she found herself cross-legged on the floor at the base of the Gunner's nest with crayons and blank sheets of flimsi in her lap.

When did I…?

Her head throbbed to the rhythm of her pulse. Weakly, she rubbed her temple and wondered what was wrong with her.

There was a clunk as Echo knelt down in front of her, the sound of his mechanical knee against the durasteel deck. He sighed heavily, and she sensed a lecture incoming.

"We've talked about this, Omega," he said, not unkindly. "You can't just not eat".

Oh… it's time for dinner already?

Finally catching up to the present, she pouted at the floor and crossed her arms over her chest. Ever since Echo had figured out that she was skipping meals to keep herself awake at night, he had taken it upon himself to break the bad habit. Bizarrely, despite having new - and much better - ways of coping with the nightmares now, she still found it difficult to manage a full portion. Tech had rationalised that she may have formed a negative association with the plain foodstuffs, making the rehabilitation process more challenging. Gratefully, Echo's strategy was humane and empathetic, having recovered from a prolonged period of starvation himself. It involved increasing the amount of her end-of-rotation ration very gradually, in manageable increments.

She glanced at the three-quarter sized bar he was holding and groaned. He was stepping it up today, and his timing couldn't have been worse. Ordinarily, she might have put up a fight, but as she went to muster an argument, she found herself completely devoid of the energy to do so. Sighing with defeat, she reached out, palm up, to accept the ration.

Echo placed the bar in her grasp and then gave her upper arm a squeeze of encouragement. The very weight of it in her hand made her want to cry, but she didn't want to disappoint Echo. As soon as she brought it to her face, however, she found herself inches away from trying to take a bite out of Tech's soldering iron instead.

Omega gawped at it, flustered with befuddlement.

I don't--

She looked up. Tech was beside her, seated in the pilot's chair, rewiring a broken comms device with deft fingers and happily oblivious to her sudden disorientation. Her arm shot out to brace herself against the back of the chair as her head reeled with dizzying turbulence.

How… did she end up in the cockpit?

In the process of adjusting to her new setting, she became aware of a churning sensation in her centre. As if mere acknowledgement had awoken it, like some angry beast, her stomach twisted with cruel intent and she nearly doubled over. Stifling a gurgle, she snatched at her tummy, trying in vain to somehow restrain it from performing wild backflips inside her. It was not the empty nor anxious feeling she was uncomfortably familiar with. This was a noxious pang, as if her brain was convinced she had imbibed a poison and was determined to rescue her from it.

Had she eaten that entire thing? How long ago had that been?

A warning signal went off on the dashboard, close behind her, and Omega grimaced as the sound blared in her over-sensitive ears.

My head…

"Miss Omega, would you mind disabling that alarm?" Tech muttered, reluctant to deprive his present task any degree of his attention. "The starboard seismic sensor is misaligned and the Marauder will not stop hassling me about it". He gave a short grunt of annoyance. "It is not as if I can climb out and adjust it while we are in hyperspace," he huffed under his breath, more to himself.

Omega knew where the deactivation switch was, but as she turned towards it, the bright lights of the console bit savagely into her eyes, and she gasped aloud with the pain that lanced through her skull from front to back. Quickly, she attempted to dilute the agony with the relative darkness offered by the crook of her elbow.

A warmth loomed near as Tech leaned over her to flick a toggle, and the warbling siren was immediately silenced. Then, she felt Tech's gloved fingers pry the soldering iron from her white-knuckled grip before clasping her arm and gently dragging it away from her face. She kept her eyes firmly shut.

"Omega, what is the matter?"

A rising heat flushed her cheeks and hot tears prickled behind her eyelids.

Don't cry…DON'T cry.

He swept his hand under her fringe to expose her forehead, as if looking for a bump or a bruise. "Does your head still hurt? Perhaps I should reassess you for a concussion--"

"N-no! I-it's nothing, really," she stuttered with embarrassment, balling her hands into fists to scrub over her eyeballs. "'m just tired…".

It might have been the truth. She honestly had no idea.

Surely, that was it. Surely, she was just tired…

"Then I think it is time for your sleep cycle, ad'ika". Gingerly, he captured her hand and she allowed herself to be lead down the gangway. Eyes still closed, she begged her feet not to stumble on smooth steel, or on thin air for that matter.

One foot…in front...of the other… Don't…trip.

"Do you require assistance with the ladder?" Tech asked when they arrived at the Gunner's mount.

"No," Omega mumbled unconvincingly. Blearily, she attempted to navigate the rungs without divulging the pathetic weakness of her limbs. Clearly, she failed in that endeavour, as Tech decided to boost her up the last part of the way. Grateful that her fairy lights were switched off, she crawled two paces onto the cushioned platform before collapsing onto her side with a loud sigh.

"I… am going to fetch Hunter," she heard Tech say with a tone of concern, though she could not fathom as to why, and within the space of a millisecond, Hunter seemingly materialised out of nothing. Perched on the lip of the Gunner's mount, leaning forward so he could comb his fingers through her hair. Had it truly been just a millisecond? The fog in her mind had grown muggy and fetid, ladening her thoughts with a thick damp. It was too hard to figure out what was going on, so she simply gave up trying.

All she knew was that everything hurt.

"Hey, kiddo," Hunter said quietly. "You feeling alright?"

She sunk her face into the mattress. "Sleepy," she managed, the word muffled through foam.

There was a tugging at her left leg as Hunter carefully removed her boot. "Well, you can't go to bed like this, kid," he chuckled softly. The other boot came off, and Hunter's hand pressed behind her shoulders. "C'mon, sit up".

She mewled irritably as he eased her into a sitting position.

"Arms," he prompted. Omega made a sullen face as she tried to raise her arms over her head. As if her wrists were adorned with bracelets made of solid lead, it felt damn near impossible.

Regardless, Hunter made do, pulling her tunic up and over before threading her into the long sleeves of her pyjama shirt. As he began buttoning it up the middle, Omega leant back against the wall, already halfway to oblivion.

"Gonna need you to stand for a sec," he told her, fastening the final button, and she frowned, rolling her head side to side in a wordless 'no'.

"C'mon," he crooned, bringing himself onto one knee in the Gunner's nest. "Last piece, promise".

Hunter scooped under her arms and lifted her effortlessly onto unsteady feet. He brought her hands to rest on his shoulders so she could balance as he delicately tugged off her trousers and replaced them with flannel pyjama pants, patiently instructing her when to lift each foot for him.

"There you go," he muttered, securing the ribbon at the waistband with a neat bow before resting his hands on her sides and looking up at her. "Been a big day for you, huh, kid?". His words were softened by a smile, but he couldn't have realised the blow that they landed. Omega dipped her head, chin to chest, and didn't answer.

Maker, she felt like such a burden. Such a waste of space, of time, of resources. Incapable of swinging a punch, shooting a rifle, or flying a ship. Part of the team? Who was she kidding? The Batch could just go on without her and they'd probably be better off…

If a light thump to the head was all it took to reduce her to this, then perhaps Cid had been right.

She was nothing but a liability.

Her resolve deteriorated, like a cliff face finally crumbling under the relentless will of its oceanic adversary, and her shoulders began to quake.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

All she could do was stand there, tears spilling from the commissures of her eyes no matter how tightly she scrunched them.

"C'mere," he murmured, drawing her into his arms and brushing his hand in wide circles over her back. "You did good today, Omega, really good".

Arms slung over him, face nestled against the base of his neck, she felt sick with the turmoil. Hunter was murmuring things to her - she could feel the tenor of his voice against her skin - but none of it made any sense. It was all back to front. Her ears insisted she was spinning, but her feet claimed she was not. Even with Hunter wrapped around her, she trembled with the effort to stay upright, swallowing her sobs and whatever else was threatening to bubble up in her throat.

Moments or minutes passed like that, perhaps it was hours - she had no way of knowing. In one instant she was gripping Hunter's blacks with all her might, and in the next she was practically slumped over his shoulders, her legs having surrendered her weight. Vaguely, she felt Hunter's hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head, and his other arm sweeping her knees out from under her.

As her consciousness slipped away from the fringe of reality, she hummed pleasantly, feeling the pain simmer down to a bearable buzz in the background.

Carefully, Hunter leaned forward, keeping her pressed close as he brought her down to rest on the mattress, and by the time she made contact with it, she was already gone.

---

For the first time in weeks, Omega dreamt of nothing at all.

But sleep… was a traitor. Unable to hurt, unable to haunt, it betrayed her still, tossing her back to where her suffering would be greater…

Abruptly, Omega awoke, and all at once, her senses returned - like a crack of lightning.

Hot, loud, white, PAIN.

Her head erupted, as if her skull was being split open along its suture lines. She opened her mouth to cry out, but failed to draw breath against the tension of her abdomen. It was unbelievable. All she could do was gasp, teeth clamped together, nails buried into the flesh of her palms.

She didn't know what this was, but she knew what it wasn't, and it wasn't just a bump on the head… She needed help, and she needed it fast.

Hunter!

Lifting herself from the bed, in of itself, was like trying to claw free from a shallow grave, invisible gravel and rock holding her down as she fought to make an escape. She scarcely made it down the ladder without slipping, her fingers growing senseless and unfeeling. Blindly, she staggered toward the cockpit, knowing by some instinct he must be there.

One...foot. In front...of the other…

As she reached the threshold of the gangway, she heard him, but he still sounded impossibly far.

"Omega…" his voice drawn out in a low warning. "What're you doing out of bed?"

Her heart was pounding in her throat now, smothered under the confines of her ribs, unable to push the blood against gravity. A dizzying haze was creeping up her neck, and she knew she wasn't going to make it.

With a final effort, she cracked her eyes open, wide enough to catch sight of Hunter as he swivelled in the co-pilot's chair to face her. Just as he leapt urgently to his feet, the blue light of hyperspace behind him scorched suns and stars into her vision.

"'untah…" she gasped.

Darkness consumed all, bright supernovas giving way to an endless black void. Her legs buckled, and air rushed against her skin as she fell. The pounding of boots on steel was the last thing she heard, and then...

There was nothing.

---

Ah, welcome, friends, to my shameless, self-pandering sicfic.

No, I shall not apologise.

#SmackThatKudos

#TellMeYourThoughts&Feels

Here it is on Ao3!

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 4

Title // Washed Away pt. 4

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Baby swears but you know what, this is a cute chapter.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 1.6k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 4 of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Tagged List //  @aprildecker-blog​​ @coffeewithoutcaffeine​​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​​ @chenfordlove​​ @comeasyoudar​​ @carnationworld​​ // If you want to be added or removed from the tagged list, please drop a note.

The pier. A carnival. Maybe even a first date. A tsunami. You don’t even remember what happened after that. Your adrenaline was pumping hard and fast as you raced to console Buck, who was screaming Christopher’s name over and over again. You were afraid he would rip his vocal cords if he kept that up.

The water had receded enough for you and Buck to climb off the firetruck. What was left was a flooded road that was up to your waist, but it was much more manageable compared to before.

Together, the two of you flagged down whoever you could and asked people if they had seen Christopher. Buck described the little boy, and you held onto the last shred of hope that you could, but no one saw him. Or maybe no one wanted to see him.

Given the circumstances and what happened, you were fearing the worse.

Your arm looped around Buck’s and he didn’t pull away. If anything, he needed it. He seemed so exhausted, so defeated. It was such a contrast from the happy-go-lucky guy hours earlier. This seemed like an entirely different Buck, and you shouldn’t be thinking it, but you were grateful to see more sides to him. It showed you what kind of person he really was, and if anything, Buck was truly a hero. You believed that now more than ever. He just needed to be reminded occasionally.

The two of you walked down the flooded street, looking for any sign of anything. People seemed to be finding their way, gathering their bearings, and just trying to survive. There didn’t appear to be any luck, until…

“Hey, there’s a kid under here!”

Someone shouted from across the watery road. Buck spun around so fast; you were slightly afraid he would get whiplash. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to the wreckage.

The two of you, along with a few other people, removed a heavy metal liquor sign, the ones that hang on the sides of buildings with the arrow pointing to the entrance, off a person who was trapped in the middle of the debris.

Buck was holding his breath. For a moment, there was a gleam of hope, a flash of relief.

And then it was gone.

It wasn’t Christopher at all. The kid was a girl, a teen maybe, and she was sobbing for help. A woman grabbed her arm and supported her, and the two sauntered off wherever.

Buck stopped them quickly. “Hey hey excuse me, I’m looking for an eight-year-old boy.”

“Yeah, yeah I think I saw him. He was headed over to that cupcakery place up the way. They are handing out water,” a surfer-looking dude in a wetsuit chimed in, and once again, the spark of hope exploded in Buck’s eyes.

Your shred of hope was dwindling to a thread, mere fibers, after the ordeal you and Buck had. You were trying to keep hope like Buck was, but it was hard. Every single piece of help was leading to a dead end and you did not like the idea of sticking around if the worse news actually became a reality.

Does that make you a bad person? If you didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true, right? Perhaps you could hold onto that mantra for a little bit. Maybe some of Buck’s hope will wash over to you. You sure could use some right now.

“Thank you,” Buck said, and he grabbed your hand. The two of you sprinted in the direction where someone thought they saw Christopher, but your sprints quickly slowed to a walk since treading in water wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.

You were silent. You must’ve been for some time because eventually Buck spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” Buck told you. It was in a whisper and you strained your neck trying to hear him over the gushing liquid around you.

“For what?” you asked. There was nothing he could possibly be sorry for. None of this was his fault. Literally, this is just some freak accident that no one could have predicted.

“This wasn’t how I wanted our first date to go,” Buck was avoiding your eyes, like he was still looking for Christopher in the flood. In all fairness, you weren’t looking at him either.

Maybe you didn’t respond quick enough, or maybe the sudden silence wasn’t what Buck wanted to hear, because the ex-firefighter continued to speak, a little louder this time, and you heard him perfectly.

“Eddie needed someone to watch Christopher and I’m practically Uncle Buck, so I accepted, but I really did kind of wish it was just me and you. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christopher, and I love hanging out with him but I kind of wanted to hang out with you. Just you. Trust me, if it were just me and you, it’d be a memorable first date,” Buck said as his head hung low.

He wiped the sweat off his brow with his free hand, although the hand that was holding yours loosened its grip against your fingers, like he expected you to suddenly pull away from him.

You didn’t and you squeezed your hand to reassure him. “I don’t know,” you said with a little smile, “as far as first dates go, I feel like this is pretty memorable.”

That seemed to put a spring in his step, and he smiled too. He glanced over at you, nudging you with his impressively muscular arm. “I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

You teetered slightly to the side to avoid a washed-up car, allowing your body to press next to his for a second. Honestly, it felt good. Maybe you just craved a human touch and the handholding wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe your feelings ran deeper for Evan Buckley than you thought. Whatever the case, you knew it wasn’t the moment you wanted, so you weren’t disappointed by the sudden confliction of feelings.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Your hair was practically dry at this point, although rough and tangled from the seawater. “I was hoping you’d ask me out. I wasn’t expecting Christopher to join us, but I like the kid.”

It was true. With Christopher’s medical problems, you got to know him very well, since you were the nurse at his school. Eddie made sure to contact you once a week, at least, just to check on his son and make sure everything was okay. You got to know the Diaz family, and that included Uncle Buck. Your life changed for the absolute better the moment Christopher walked into it. It was that boy and the family he had that provided you with something spectacular. You were holding the hand of that spectacular thing right now as the two of you walked down a flooded street.

“You like me more though, right?” Buck had a bit of a snarky smile now. That made you feel a lot better. Perhaps this conversation is distracting him from everything going on. You both could use the distraction. Plus, both of you haven’t talked to each other properly all day. Christopher was always right there.

“It’s kind of hard to not like someone that saves your life,” you shrugged it off, toying with him a little. Was it sort of wrong to tease him when the two of you were looking for Christopher? Then again, maybe that was what you both needed right now. Again, distractions can be necessary.

“Oh, that’s right. So basically, that sort of means you’re in my debt now, right?” Buck asked as he looked over at you. There was that damn gleam in his eyes. He was teasing you back and hell, he was enjoying it too.

“Let’s not get carried away with the specifics,” you answered, only to hear Buck emit a small laugh. It was good to hear him laugh again. It was good to see him smile. The cupcakery was miles down the road, the two of you had a while, and the distracted conversation was most welcomed.

“I like the specifics,” the ex-firefighter retorted. You could feel his thumb grazing the back of your hand.

“Okay fine, I’m in your debt. How in the world could I possibly pay you for saving my precious life?” you threw out your best acting skills, which were not that great to begin with, and the laugh lines around Buck’s eyes became more prominent. Your knight in shining armor was actually enjoying this.

“See, that’s all I want, a little bit of gratitude.”

“Dear Mr. Buckley, I am so incredibly grateful that you saved my ass during a freak disaster,” you began to really get into this fake acting thing, but Buck saw right through you.

He splashed you and you laughed, clinging onto him just a little bit tighter.

It was needed. After the ordeal that you two had, this was definitely needed. You didn’t know what lied ahead at the cupcake bakery a few miles down the road, and you were mentally exhausted trying to play every scenario out in your head.

During your trek, there was no one else that needed saving. Buck didn’t run into the face of danger. Instead, he was by your side, holding your hand, as you both waded slowly through the water. Occasionally you stepped on things that you did not want to know what they were, but he was there and calmed you down through it.

The sun was setting. The two of you kept walking. Maybe, just maybe, you two can save Christopher.

And maybe each other.