#them talking about how bridget was the character they poured the most love into and it shows

[saeraas]

some jjk characters playing guilty gear since Johnny hype got me and I'm bored at work also happy 25th anniverasy to guilty gear!

yuji: sol badguy because he's pretty rad and kyle was too boring for him. tried to play giovanna but todo kept picking her too. falls for dp baits a lot

megumi: plays zato=1. doesn't use everything right and somehow gets filtered by asukas. not happy about the nerfs to eddie and thinks it's stupid even though he can't even leave his shikigami out either. will probably be playing testament in season 3. saw the box strategy during kof grand finals and will probably do that too

nobara: likes bridget since she's cute. doesn't understand how she's doing all this with a yo yo but doesn't think about it too much. gets hit once and immediately starts mashing. does not want to admit she can't figure out how to play i-no

sukuna: the most slimey happy chaos if that is even possible. not happy about the full screen burst changes but will probably figure it out. gets happy knowing he made someone's day worse just for playing against a happy chaos. leffen fan

gojo: figured out asuka #r on day one. a lot of people dc or one and done him. played faust before asuka because he liked the idea of fucking up people and loves when the trumpet comes out for the mindgame. his asuka vs sukuna's happy chaos is the most snooze inducing match but everyone in the lobby is also shocked seeing happy chaos get bullied. you'd think gojo would play ky, but like yuji he got bored

maki: baiken fan that actually plays baiken. will pick potemkin if she fights naoya's chipp, so he gets filtered in the most disrespectful way possible and post highlights on youtube

miwa: excited to finally play ggst because Johnny is in the game and is still grinding the most ridiculous johnny combos in xrd :)

yuki: plays giovanna because she's her type. her way of playing is very straightforward but will start to do crazy rushdown pressure and lock in if she plays against kenjaku

kashimo: the only guy that stuck with sin because he's not a quitter. doesn't complain about how the character is rn but also happy for season 3 for any buffs. that one guy that follows sukuna around in the lobby and keeps getting filtered by his happy chaos

kenjaku: has played through all the other guilty gears with i-no because they really liked i-no's character and continues to play i-no. has also picked up jack-o in strive

mahito: plays may and dolphin spams

yuta: plays kyle. only person that thinks ky is not boring on this list. yes, he picked the only one in strive's roster that is married. tries to use his dragon install because of the lore importance behind but gets punished a lot for it. makes it work, though.

[miscriont]

Okay I've thought about this as long as I can stand and--am I the only person who thought this was *awkward*?

I've been chewing on it, reading about other people's reactions, studying frame by frame the movements of Aziraphale's hands and like. I *see* it, I see how y'all get to the "brief moment of reciprocation" conclusion, but.

It is AWKWARD. It is one of the most awkward onscreen kisses I have ever seen.

Why is that??

The characters have chemistry. The narrative has established their relationship. The actors have chemistry; each of them has a proven track record of standout performances. And it's not as though either of them is new at this. So why, with all that on the table, does this look like amateur hour?

I got curious about it, and my hypothesis is this: they're reading from different playbooks.

"Saw it in a Richard Curtis film".

It feels like a throwaway line, something to wink-nudge a laugh out of the audience. There's a bit of confusion immediately afterwards regarding Jane Austen, Prolific Novelist and Jane Austen, Jewel Thief and Crime Lord, and isn't that funny haha look at the clueless celestial beings but almost NOTHING in this show has been just filler, or meaningless.

So who was Richard Curtis and why is he the model for Crowley's attempts at matchmaking? Turns out Richard Curtis directed some of the more iconic romcoms of the 90s and 2000s. I'm talking Notting Hill ("I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her", remember that one?); I'm talking Love Actually; I'm talking Bridget Jones Diary--which, funnily enough, is at the very least inspired by Pride & Prejudice. Sappy monologues and kissing in the rain is this guy's bread & butter.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, wants to try the Austen-esque approach of having balls. There were fairly rigid rules to courtship back in Austen's day. Rules that HAD to be followed, in the right order, or else face social ruin. Austen made her career out of poking fun at those even as her characters worked within them. Point is, you only get to kiss at the end, and one of you better be wearing a wedding dress.

I may be stating the obvious but I haven't seen anyone else talking about it so: one layer to Crowley's and Aziraphale's brainstorming session on how to get Nina and Maggie together is also their way of subtly indicating what they themselves find romantic, and would want someone else to do for them to demonstrate their interest. For Aziraphale it's dancing and atmospheric lighting and having everything just so and *conversations that clear up everything*. For Crowley it's tearful speeches and getting the chance to tell the truth while streetlights glitter through pouring rain, where the protagonists seem to be pulled into a showstopping kiss almost as of by magnetism alone. There's a formula to each of the kinds of romantic storytelling that inspires their different matchmaking styles.

For Aziraphale, The Kiss (because you know this bitch(affectionate) would use the Capital Letters for Emphasis And/Or Significance) skips several steps in the courtship dance he thinks they've been doing. From Crowley's Perspective, Aziraphale is three acts, two scenes behind from where *he* thinks they are. Their kiss looks awkward because they are desynchronized, out of step with each other.

In other words, and in many more ways than just the one, they are not on the same page.

But you know who these two numpties have in common?

William Fucking Shakespeare. My outlandishly speculative prediction for season 3 is their reconciliation will have something to do with Shakespeare's comedic works. The perfect turnabout would be modeling it on Much Ado, with Nina and Maggie playing the bits of Hero and Claudio in fabricating evidence to get them back together: Crowley and Aziraphale messed about with their lives, it's only fair they should get to dish it out.

[argylemnwrites]

Fights, Futures, Fears

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (The Royal Heir 2, Chapter 2)

Word Count: ~1600

Rating:  PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: Riley gets why Drake agreed to the treaty with Auvernal. She’s just not very happy about it.

Author’s Note: Alright, since PB is too chicken to let MC and her spouse fight, I’m gonna do it! This is technically a Fluffy Friday prompt request from @addictedtodrakefanfic (20. A Heated Argument), but this probably isn’t the most fluffy piece out there, hahaha. Oh well, I go where these characters take me, so I’m counting it! A little angst just makes the fluff sweeter, right?

“Hey, Liam just texted. He’s planning on stopping by tomorrow.” Drake said, popping his head around the corner of the nursery.

“Okay…” said Riley, bouncing Bridget on her hip as she tried to get her to calm down. The colic seemed to be getting worse and evenings were always a rough time. Bridget had stopped screaming, but Riley just knew if she sat down with Bridget, or god forbid, put her in the crib, it would start up all over again. And if she had to deal with another minute of that noise tonight, knowing basically nothing she could do would actually stop it, well then she might start screaming herself.

“Right, just figured you should know in case you wanted to shower or something.”

Riley spun to face him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Drake raised his hands, “No judgement here. I just wanted to give you a heads up. You can wear pajamas and flip flops when he’s here for all I care.”

She shook her head, trying to keep her voice level and calm. Bridget could definitely sense when people were upset around her, and the last thing Riley needed on top of everything was a screaming child. “No, I can’t. He’s the frickin’ king, Drake. And I’m guessing it’s not a social call since he warned us ahead of time. So I can’t exactly greet him looking like this,” she replied, gesturing to her stained sweatshirt, grey sweatpants, greasy hair, and oversized glasses.

“Okay, I’ll just meet with him then. It’ll be fine, Walker.”

“No, Drake,” replied Riley, shaking her head roughly, “It will not be ‘fine’ if you just meet with him. I’m guessing he wants to talk about the treaty with Auvernal that you signed the last time I wasn’t there for a meeting, so I’m going to be there, thank you very much.”

Something flashed through Drake’s eyes as he stepped into the room. “Hey! That’s not fair!” he yelled out, pointing at Riley aggressively, immediately dropping his voice when Bridget started squawking. His next words were whispers, but they still carried force, anger, and pain.

“I did what I had to do to make sure you stayed alive. I don’t know how you think I could have just sat there and watched you suffer, listened as Hana googled all sorts of scary shi- er, crap about preeclampsia and the possibility of seizures and the fact that you should have had an immediate c-section, and not done whatever it took to get you your doctor!”

Riley inhaled sharply, trying to keep her cool. She understood objectively what Drake was saying. If the situation had been reversed, she probably would have made the same choice. But she wasn’t given a choice in her baby’s future, and it pissed her off, just like it had basically one year ago.

“You always have a reason, don’t you? Always some excuse for doing whatever you think is best for our child without talking to me first. ‘Sure, Liam. Just take our baby as heir to the throne. No need to discuss that with my wife.’ And now it’s Auvernal looking to just lock our child into some god-awful arranged marriage and once again, it all happens without any input from me.”

Drake pulled back slightly, looking like he’d been slapped. He just stared at her in silence for a few moments before he spoke. “It’s not fair when you do that. You can’t tell me you understand and forgive me, only to save it to throw it in my face later.”

And with that, he spun around, marching out of the room. Riley felt on the verge of tears. She didn’t want to fight with Drake about this, but she was just so sick of everyone having plans for her and her family in this country. First she was supposed to marry Liam. Then, her wedding was turned into this big state event for the people. After that, she had to get pregnant right away and that child just had to be heir to the throne. And now, her child’s future happiness had been bartered away in exchange for medical care. It was just too much. She just wanted to raise her kid, to get to decide one thing for her daughter without it being a matter of politics or diplomacy.

After another 30 minutes of rocking, bouncing, and soothing, Riley was finally able to place Bridget down in her crib. Knowing she only had a short amount of time before she would need to feed again, Riley hurried off to try and squeeze in that shower before then. When she stepped out of the bathroom less than a half hour later, she heard Drake over the baby monitor. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but Bridget wasn’t crying, so she counted that as a win.

As she made her way back to the nursery, she tried to think about what she wanted to say to Drake. But she was so tired, so hormonal, so overwhelmed that the thought of saying anything other than “Sorry” just felt impossible. When she reached the nursery, she paused for a moment, leaning against the door frame as she took in the sight in front of her. There was Drake, sitting on the chair, trying to coax Bridget to take a bottle. He was so gentle with her, so calm. Meanwhile, she felt like pulling her hair out half the time she was caring for their daughter. 

She watched for a few moments before Drake sensed her presence, glancing up. The look on his face was tentative, clearly unsure where they stood at that moment.

“She’s not interested in the bottle?” asked Riley, jutting her head towards the pair of them, trying to make it clear she wasn’t going to pick up the fight right where they left off.

Drake shook his head, “No, she’s a stubborn one, I tell you. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Riley walked over, holding out her arms. Drake transferred her over and stood up, offering the chair to Riley for nursing. “I think she gets that from both of us,” she mused as she adjusted her robe and helped Bridget latch. 

Drake stood there, just watching them briefly before he let out a big sigh and said, ��Look, if you want to have this fight, we can have this fight, but I don’t want this to be something that we keep coming back to. If we’re doing this, we should just get it all out there so we can move on.”

Riley shook her head, “I don’t want to have this fight. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I get why you signed the treaty, I really do. I’m just frustrated.”

“About the treaty?”

“About a lot of things. The treaty is just one more thing I don’t have any control over. But it’s also the lack of sleep, her colic, the fact that the entire nobility has come traipsing through Valtoria bringing us expensive but useless gifts. I just… it feels like everything is happening all around me and I’m barely hanging on sometimes.”

Now that Riley had started, she felt her fears and worries just start pouring out of her, “I just want to be a good mom, you know? But she’s so fussy and cranky, to the point that I wonder if I’m doing anything right. And then I think about the burdens we’ve placed on her, about the fact that she’s not going to have the freedoms that you and I had, and I feel so guilty. And what if we can’t get out of this treaty? What if she’s forced into some awful political marriage because of us? I don’t know that I could handle it, Drake. Because I’m pretty sure that would make me an even worse mother than mine was.”

The tears started trickling down her cheeks at that point, and Drake was over to her in a flash, crouching down next to her, wrapping his arm around her head, trying to hold her without disturbing Bridget’s feeding.

“Riley… no, you are nothing like your mother. You take such good care of her.”

“Only because I have you and a whole bunch of staff around here. She had no one. Who knows how I’d be coping otherwise?”

Drake just stroked her wet hair, trying to soothe her, “The ‘what if’ game is a shitty one, Walker. It never leads to good thoughts, believe me. All I know for sure is that you love her so much that you have worked yourself up with worry that you’re not good enough. But that tells me that you are always going to do what’s right for her.”

“But what if she has to marry someone horrible?”

“I won’t let that happen. We won’t let that happen. We have at least 18 years to figure out a way out of this mess.”

“But what if we can’t, Drake?” Riley asked, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes.

“I won’t let it come to that,” he said, dropping his hand to her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into her skin, “But, if it does, then we run. We take Bridget and we go hide out somewhere until we can get things figured out, okay?”

“I just hate feeling so powerless.”

“Me too. But we’ll find a way to fight this. You just talked about how stubborn we both are. There’s no way we’re letting those assholes stake any claim to our little girl, alright?”

Riley nodded, reaching up with her free hand to wipe away some of her tears. Drake was right, they would not let this engagement clause stand. They were in this together, and they would always fight tooth and nail for their daughter. That was just a fact, and for now, that would have to be enough for their family.

Permatag: @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal  @lilyofchoices  @thequeenofcronuts  @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019   @sirbeepsalot  @texaskitten30   @princessleac1  @ladyangel70  @dcbbw  @yaushie @octobereighth

Drake x MC only:  @jovialyouthmusic  @iplaydrake  @gibbles82  @drakewalkerisreal  @riley--walker  @notoriouscs  @butindeed  @addictedtodrakefanfic​  

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2018

I neglected to write this list up this time last year, so I’m catching up! 2019 is soon to come.  Every Movie I Watched in 2018

The number in parentheses is year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite first watches of the year. 

01 So I Married an Axe Murderer (93)* possibly the most early/mid-90s film ever made. Centre parted hair, slam poetry, pre-tech boom San Francisco, Steven Wright cameo?!

02 The Florida Project (17) first theatre movie of the year came early!

03 The Long Goodbye (75)

04 Call Me by Your Name (17) I and some friends made an effort to see movies we thought might be oscar-nominated this year, so there’s a few of those coming up. 

05 LA Story (91)* a forever rewatch

06 Personal Shopper (17) Feels like there’s a thin veil between K Stew and the characters she chooses.

07 I, Tonya (17)

08 Comfort and Joy (84) 80s Glasgow!

09 Faces, Places (17) made me want to pick up a camera again

10 A Futile and Stupid Gesture (18)

11 Creed (15) not for me. 

12 Black Panther (18)* I found this lost a lot of its lustre the second time around. 

13 Ghost (90)

14 Youngblood (86) Rob Lowe and Patrick Swayze hockey movie filmed in 80s Toronto? Sign me up!

15 The Living Daylights (87)* basically sometimes I want to see a Bond film, and really any of them will do. 

16 Brigsby Bear (17)

17 The Ice Storm (97) 

18 Disclosure (94) strong competition for Most 90s Movie, this time set in a Seattle CD-ROM company. One of those movies I remember staring at the cover of, in the movie rental place. 

19 Saturday Night Fever (77)*

20 Barry Lyndon (75) God, the look, the costumes, the performances! This killed me dead.

21 Fried Green Tomatoes (91)* Another forever rewatch!

22 Howard’s End (92)* rewatch prompted by watching the new series version. 

23 Sense & Sensibility (95)* keep those costume dramas coming...

24 The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (01)*

25 The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (02)* 

26 Breakfast at Tiffany’s (61)*

27 Paterson (16)

28 Three Kings (99)*

29 The Talented Mr Ripley (99)* 99 was a good film year...I’ll go to this version of Italy anytime. 

30 The Equalizer (14)

31 Paddington (14)

32 Paul (11) the initial charm doesn’t carry the movie through til the end.

33 The Virgin Suicides (99)*

34 Friday the 13th (80)

35 Sea of Love (89)

36 Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (18) a great opportunity to shed some tears in a movie theatre.

37 Star Wars: The Last Jedi (17)*

38 Wild (14)

39 Housekeeping (87) love me a Bill Forsyth, as you can see. 

40 Predator (87)* if it bleeds, etc

41 Close Encounters of the Third Kind (77)*

42 Fever Pitch (05) the US remake...

43 Fever Pitch (97) ...the UK original 

44 Bridget Jones’ Baby (16)

45 Stand by Me (86)*

46 Three Identical Strangers (18) 

47 Mission Impossible: Fallout (18)

48 Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (11)*

49 Election (99)*

50 The Killing Ground (17) utter brutality in the Aussie bushland

51 Eyes Wide Shut (99) never saw this at the time, and thought Nicole Kidman’s perspective was more important within the film but GUESS WHAT, IT ISN’T

52 Repulsion (65)

53 Crazy Rich Asians (18)

54 Halloween (78)* the start of Spooker Season

55 A Star is Born (18)

56 The Hunger (83)

57 Annihilation (17)

58 Scream (99)*

59 Halloween H20: 20 Years Later (98) this was...terrible

60 Halloween (18)

61 Deep Red (75) one of the better Argentos, imo, but no Tenebrae

62 Dead Ringers (88)

63 Rocky Horror Picture Show (75)*

64 Silence of the Lambs (91)*

65 Nosferatu (22)

66 The Italian Job (69)

67 Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (01)*

68 Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets (02)*69 Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (04)*

70 Gangs of New York (02)* Wow, I hated this! If I never see sweaty Leonardo DiCaprio again, it’ll be too soon. 

71 Shirkers (18)

72 Terminator 2 (91)*

73 Little Women (94)*

74 The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (18)

75 Life Itself (18) this movie has left my mind ENTIRELY, wow did it even happen?

76 National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89)*

77 Home Alone (90)*

78 Gremlins (84)* turns out I’d forgotten more of this than I remembered??

79 The Shop Around the Corner (40)

80 You’ve Got Mail (98)*

81 Mr Smith Goes to Washington (39)

82 Widows (18)

83 Roma (18) I did see this in theatre, so the surround-sound experience was in full effect. 

84 Ghost Stories (17)

85 200 Cigarettes (99)

DOCUMENTARY:FICTION - 3:82

THEATRE:HOME - 11:74

I had no idea I’d watched so many movies from 1999 this year! It was certainly not done on purpose, but that year had some great movies. Spooker Season was a particularly strong one this year, too, with ten horror/spooky movies over the course of October. It’s always interesting to me to see how many comfort viewings vs more challenging fare that I manage to watch in a given year (probably correlated to how many times I was sick and/or had a rough work day). 

Every TV Series I Watched in 2019

01 The Crown S2 - the difficulties of royal marriage are a strong theme in this season, but there’s also some great sister-sister material between Elizabeth and Margaret. 

02 Lady Dynamite S2 - too weird to live, I guess?

03 High Maintenance S2 - this is the second HBO season, and the first one that really tries to grapple with high-level world events, in this case Trump’s election, spoken about as if it was a natural disaster.

04 Queer Eye S1, S2 - I’d never seen the original series, so this was my first exposure to the concept. It aims for pathos, but you have to accept a pretty rosy world to get into it. Easier to enjoy before any of the boys had book deals/got Milkshake Duck’d.

05 Love S3 - still watching for Bertie, I love her.

06 Collateral - thorny British political police procedural, ultimately pretty forgettable, barring Carey Mulligan’s performance. 

07 Alias Grace - the Atwood adaptation that people *weren’t* talking about. It’s great, though!

08 Atlanta S2: Robbin Season - Atlanta got weirder, more idiosyncratic, and even better in its second season. 09 Barry S1 - Barry got a lot of plaudits this year, and while I really liked the cast, and the plot was engrossing, something didn’t stick for me, and ultimately I didn’t watch the second season. 

10 Howard’s End - it is a truth universally acknowledged that most books are better adapted as a miniseries than a single movie. Not that I hate the ‘92 movie, but this gets deeper into the class relations than it ever could. Plus: TIBBY!!

11 Killing Eve S1 - the series that hackneyed “smart, stylish and sexy” critic descriptions were made for.

12 Detroiters S2 - pouring one out for my fave pals, who never got a chance to make another season of this little darling (though there were a couple of episodes in this season that didn’t do it for me). 

13 Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat - perhaps the only adaptation of a cookbook that I’ve ever seen, and certainly one of the best food shows ever. 

14 Big Mouth S2 - More of the same, so if you could hack it in the first season, then keep it up!

15 Bodyguard - another in the sexy/dark/procedural vein, with bonus Scotsman from Game of Thrones.

16 Utopia/Dreamland S1-S3 - an Australian comedy series about a government infrastructure department, which has apparently spawned real such departments in the country, even though it doesn’t come off all that well. The first title is the Aussie one, it’s known as Dreamland everywhere else. 

17 Baroness Von Sketch S3 - Canadian series that I actually watch are rare as hen’s teeth, so I was delighted to find a woman-centric sketch show that has kept me laughing. Plus, sometimes I see my neighbourhood? That’s fun!

[salty-dracon]

SECRET Heroes- Paradise

Val comes in contact with GREY, an AI that takes him through the depths of his mind. 

“Let me go.“ Val attempted to fight against the restraints. He couldn’t move his head around, no matter how hard he fought against the metal bars, and he couldn’t even rock his way out of the restraints. 

“Sshhhhhh.“ Thana pressed his fingers over Val’s lips while Viviel typed some words into a machine. 

A voice spoke- one that Val didn’t recognize.

“Good morning, Viviel.“

“Good morning, GREY. I need you to do something for me.“

“Yes?“

“There is a subject here I want you to analyze. I want to know everything about him. But keep it very non-invasive.“

“Of course.“

“We’re hooking him up now.“

“Hooking me up?!“ Val shouted. “What are you hooking me up to?!“ He felt a needle being pressed into his forehead and fastened with tape. “What is this?! What’s GREY?!“

“You’ll see,“ Thana giggled. 

“GREY, you may begin,“ Viviel shouted, to the computer. 

“No! No!“ Val shouted, fighting the restraints. His head began to hurt, and the rest of his body grew numb. “No! No. No.... no... “

A few seconds later, his eyes closed completely. 

----

Val’s eyes opened. He felt a breeze over his face, and cold air. He saw a canopy of trees and a blue sky filled with fluffy clouds. 

He realized he was lying down. 

As Val went to sit up, he realized he was shorter than usual, and that he was sitting on a patch of grass. 

He turned around. Behind him, he saw a blue house, with a statue of a gargoyle out front. 

I’m... home again?

“So, this is your home.”

Val turned around. A man was floating in front of him, clothed in white, with red and gold accents that fluttered in the breeze. 

“You’re GREY.“

“Yes. I hope you like the paradise I have created. It was created with you in mind, of course.“

“But why am I home? Why is my paradise at my home in Columbus?“

“Why?“ GREY asked. “We shall soon learn. Why don’t we go somewhere else?“

Val carefully followed the path through the woods out to the front. When he saw what was out there, he froze. 

A silver car. A teenage Jake leaned out of the driver’s seat and waved his hand. He watched one of the back seat windows roll down, and a girl lean out. Bridget, also a teenager. She smiled at him. 

Val realized he was taller. He stared at his hands. He still wasn’t an adult. 

“Do you know them?“ GREY asked. 

“Jake and Brid.“

“Why did they appear?“

“Because they’re the ones I really want to see again. Wait, but your organization captured Brid!“

“Yes, but that was not my doing.“ GREY closed his eyes. “Now, where shall we go next?“

Val hesitated before climbing into the car. He was greeted with a hug from Brid. Neither Allie or Kat were in the car, just him and Brid. 

Val blinked. Jake was gone. It was like his presence had vanished completely. 

Brid squeezed him tighter. Val felt the sensation of something wet on his neck- Brid was crying. 

“You’re okay,“ she said. “Val, I’m so glad you’re okay! We can go home now!“

Val reached his hand out. He realized his fingers were longer. He was an adult- his own age. As Brid came into focus, he realized, so was she- clothed in a white t-shirt and jeans. 

“GREY, what’s going on?“ he asked. 

“All humans have a paradise.“ GREY’s voice rang in his ear. “All humans dream of paradise. This is simply yours.“

“But it’s all weird!“

“A paradise is but a reflection of a person- their experiences, their thoughts, their desires, and their hatred. Your paradise is complex compared to the average person’s. It takes place throughout multiple stages of your life. These stages are the most important to you- may I ask why?“

“I’m not telling,“ Val grumbled. 

“Then I shall find out myself, by tapping into your memories.“

With a snap, everything disappeared. Val found himself floating in utter darkness before the world reappeared in front of him. His back found a cold ground before gravity pressed him against it.

“I’m sensing particularly high concentrations of fear.“ GREY said. “By the way? You’re twelve years old again.“

“Angel,“ Val breathed. 

“Yes, the Dark Angel. Your years before your thirteenth birthday were full of childhood innocence and the carefree notions of a boy. Because one day, they were taken away from you.“ GREY’s golden form floated over him, casting light on his body. “I won’t torment you with the memory. I was told to be minimally invasive.“

Once again, the area was filled with almost total darkness. When Val blinked, he found himself sitting on a red couch. In the air, he could hear computerized sounds and cartoony voices, along with those of his friends. 

“God, Brid, you’re like a gatling gun!”

“Try me.“

“Which character has the most topple resist?“

“Um, that would be Slime, I think... why do you ask?“

“Because you’re kicking my ass.“

“Sorry.“

As Val’s vision came into focus, he realized he was sitting in Jake’s living room, on his couch. The room was dark, and the curtains shut, save for a holovision screen glowing in the dark. Allie was sitting next to him, mashing buttons on her controller. Brid was doing the same, on the floor. Kat was pressing buttons with one hand, and Jake was sitting on a chair. They were playing BattleAv 3. 

“A well-loved part of your childhood. This is a very strong happy memory.“ Grey was sitting next to Val on the couch. “You have many friends here.“

His friends were all chattering amongst themselves.

“Paleoball, go!- I got Cavewurm?“

“Ha.“

“Allie, will you stop targeting me-“

“Why are your cooldowns so freakin’ fast?!“

“Oh, come on, the guard/smash combo is just-“

“A good counter to Goliath.“

“My Lyrican build is literally so OP.“

The game announcer shouted. “Game! The winner is... Lyrican!”

“Yes!“ Brid shouted. 

“Can I have a turn?“ Val asked. Kat handed him her controller. Immediately, he took it. 

“Do you wish to take a step deeper into the heaven of my illusions?“ GREY asked, as Val took the controller. “If so, I will be happy to lead you there. That is my duty.“

Val paused and fondled the controller in his hands. It felt authentic, like the plastic it was. It even had a Blackbox controller’s joystick’s level of resistance. “Can I stay here for just a little bit?” he asked, turning to Grey. “Play one game?”

“Of course.“ GREY smiled. “A human is always welcome to enjoy their paradise. I will facilitate all I can.“ He closed his eyes. “I’ve never simulated a video game before.”

Val smiled, gripped the controller, and focused on the screen. “Get ready for my Valkur loadout!”

Val’s eyes opened. He screamed as blood poured in front of his face, banging his head against the cage. 

“Whoopsie!“ Thana laughed. He dangled the bloody electrode in front of Val’s face. “I pulled it out a little early.“

“I wanted to play with them!“ Val shouted. 

“Thana!“ GREY’s voice shouted from the monitor. “I never gave you permission to pull the electrode from his forehead.“

“Sorry.“ Thana shoved the electrode back into Val’s forehead, causing it to bleed even more. “There, I fixed it!“

“No. The bond is broken. Viviel, why did you order him to-“

“I told him not to touch the subject while the therapy was going on.” Viviel groaned and turned to Thana. “Thana, this was important.“

“He’s not that important.” Thana pouted. 

“We need to understand the roots of his power. He can effortlessly travel through spatial rifts. It sure sounds important to me!”

“Val, we will finish this another time.” Grey’s voice spoke from the computer. “I was looking forward to helping you relive your happy memories.” 

“Grey, you’re dismissed for now. Thana, we will talk about this later.“

Thana only laughed. 

Behind Viviel, Grey gazed at Val with a wistful longing on his face, and then disappeared. 

(AN: Viviel and Thana are a pair of twins that serve under Genetika. They haven’t been altered in any way with animal DNA, nor do they have any clones. Instead they are made to be as survivable as possible, with numerous skills that make them near-perfect assassins. They have the ability to psychically read each others’ minds, which is especially important as a part of their skill sets. While Viviel is the more logical one, Thana is like an animal who gives in easily to murderous or sexual desires. Thana is arguably the most “evil” of Genetika’s minions, as he revels in the harm he causes to others. He enjoys toying with Val because he can “sense” Val’s insecurities. Viviel often has to act as Thana’s handler.

GREY on the other hand is a lot like his TMX version, Grey de Aur. He is an AI, programmed to have almost the same personality that TMX Grey did. He wants to act as a Matrix-like program to entrap all humans in their paradises, if that were possible at all. Until he can achieve that goal, he is happy to lead his various victims, including Val, to their paradises momentarily. He considers it practice and a way to enjoy the experiences of humans. Unlike TMX Grey, however, he avoids killing if he can help it, and would rather help humans reach paradise and die peacefully rather than painfully. He is much happier when he doesn’t cause pain to anyone, and would rather have not subjected Val to a memory of Angel’s torture anyway. He was excited about simulating BattleAv (my equivalent of Smash Bros) since he’d never done it before, and would have a fun time reconstructing the game from Val’s memories. He is still, however, a neutral character, as he once used his powers to kill, both under Genetika’s orders and of his own free will.)

[rachelbrosnahanweb]

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Press/Video: Rachel Brosnahan Channels Beyoncé For the Standup Scenes in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

From the time when Rachel Brosnahan first showed up on our screens as Midge, the 50’s housewife-turned-standup comedian in the Amazon series The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, to when she won the Golden Globe in January for her breakthrough performance, the actress has seemed a natural for creator Amy Sherman-Palladino’s quick-fire one-liners. Which is why it’s a little surprising to hear just how terrified Brosnahan was of her turn to comedy after appearances in deadly serious dramas like House of Cards. Here, catch up with the Emmy nominee as she explains why she some of that Sasha Fierce courage whenever she has to go onstage on Mrs. Maisel, the second season of which is still in production.

Do you remember a time when you did not want to be an actress?

No. There was never a time when I didn’t want to be an actress, I don’t think. Maybe when I was an infant, but probably still then also.

Were you a theatrical child?

I was kind of a shy kid, actually. I read a lot. I had my face in a book all the time, but I had a big imagination.

What was the first job you auditioned for?

My first audition ever was for a voiceover for a rehab facility in central Illinois. I did [book it].

Was there an audition for the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

There was definitely an audition; there were a few of them. The first one was pretty standard. I came in for just a casting director in a small room not completely unlike this one that I’m in now, and read a couple of scenes. And then a couple weeks later, I went out to L.A. to read with/for Amy [Sherman-Palladino] and Dan [Palladino] and our L.A. casting director Jeanie Bacharach.

And did you dress the part a little bit?

A little bit. I tried not to. I can’t really do my own hair and makeup, so anything in that department was kind of a disaster. But for my first audition, I think I wore this little yellow shirt that I thought was adorable but then they asked me to change for my second audition. [Laughs.] So, it wasn’t as adorable as I thought.

How much do you think the costumes are apart of the character in Mrs. Maisel?

The costumes are a huge part. Midge’s outer appearance is something she takes an enormous amount of pride in, something that makes her feel good and gives her a purpose. It’s the first thing the world sees and it means a lot to her. The costumes are huge on our show and our costume designer Donna Zakowska is a freaking crazy genius lady and everything that falls out of her brain is more brilliant than the last thing. She just continues to outdo herself, and it’s become such an important part of the show, and of this woman.

Do you have to wear a girdle?

I have to wear a corset, but fun fact about the corset: I used to wear a corset that was called the Krakowski because it had originally been designed for Jane Krakowski. And this season, now we have the Brosnahan, which was designed in Paris when we went out to shoot there for a little bit. So I have my very own corset now. I’m in the big leagues. [Laughs.]

How does it feel? Has it changed your posture, your body?

Yeah, at first, when we first started shooting the first couple episodes of the first season, I felt like I couldn’t think about anything but the fact that I was in a corset. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t eat. And I got used to it over time, which is sort of disturbing but also great.

And then, this season, with the new one, it’s a little bit different than the former corset. I like it, it’s supportive and… I’m not wearing a corset to make me smaller. I’m wearing a corset to slightly change the shape of my waist to match the 1950’s. So, the clothes in the 50’s, the waist was a little bit lower than it was in the 40’s and my natural waist is kind of high, so that’s the reason I have a corset on. But I do find it changes the way I stand and sit and walk. And between the corset and the petticoats and the tights and these beautiful, beautiful costumes, and hair and makeup, I feel completely transformed when I walk out of the trailer. That’s my favorite part about being an actor—it always has been. And I’m so lucky to be on a show where I get to do that so completely every day.

Were you nervous about doing the comedy?

Was I nervous? [Laughs.] I’m still nervous every single day. Comedy is horrifying, it’s absolutely terrifying, it’s the worst thing I could possibly imagine anyone doing to themselves. And by the same token, it’s the most thrilling and most exhilarating and most bold and brave thing I could possibly imagine. I can’t claim to have ever really experienced what it’s like to do stand up, because real stand up, you’re out there as yourself and you’re pouring your soul out, or some part of your soul out, for a laugh. And on our show, I don’t have to be me, I’m playing a character.

But she’s pouring her soul out.

She is, yeah, but the lines are written for me. The brilliant jokes are written for me—but it’s still horrifying. It’s stage fright like I’ve never experienced, but one of the cool things about the show is that I get to grow along with Midge on this journey towards becoming a comedian.

I’ve learned a lot through the process, too, alongside her about somethings that Susie says to Midge about listening to an audience and responding with your audience and looking out at the crowd and really taking them in and the way that you carry yourself on stage—the way you walk, when you pause.and I’m learning a lot about the more technical side as we go on.

Do you think you’d ever go up and do stand up on your own?

Absolutely not. Nope. No, no, no, never. No, there are a whole host of things I’d rather do … No. [Laughs.]

But when you do it, do you feel you’re channeling something when you’re onstage doing the stand up scenes? Because they’re very interesting.

Really, I get to channel Midge but it feels like a little bit of a Sasha Fierce thing, you know? I do a lot of power posing in my dressing room in my corset and petticoats by myself, sort of trying to draw the confidence from somewhere. But yeah, it’s so cool, and I get to have so many scene partners in those scenes. Our background actors who are in the club with me, they’re extraordinary. They give everything to me while I’m up on stage and they are equally a part of those scenes either succeeding or falling flat and I’m eternally grateful for every new group of actors we have in those scenes.

So, growing up, what was your favorite TV show?

These answers are going to be very highbrow, but I really loved the Rugrats. I also really loved—there was this show on Noggin called Ghostwriter, and I loved it. It was about a bunch of kids my age solving mysteries. It was like a lot of the books I loved to read.

Did you have a favorite film?

[Laughs.] I really loved Austin Powers.

Your parents let you watch it? How old were you?

Too young, maybe. My dad really loved Austin Powers and… This is so silly, but I have such fond memories of watching Austin Powers with my whole family in the living room. My dad, because my brother and I were maybe a little on the young side, anytime they said bad words or something inappropriate, my dad would sort of go [clears throat] through the whole thing. He just loved it. Couldn’t get enough.

When did you tell your parents you wanted to be an actress?

Formally, probably when I was about 17. Right at that point where you’re in school and everybody starts talking about the SATs and the ACTs and where you want to go to college, and I think that was when I really realized I didn’t have any other interests, or any other viable job options.

Well, you were only 17.

That’s right, yeah. It’s so hard to know… It’s still so crazy to me that at 17 you’re supposed to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. But I think I was pretty certain about it then, and here we are now. It’s working out okay. [Laughs.]

Who was your cinematic crush then or now?

Oh gosh, now I have so many. Colin Firth. I love Colin Firth. I’ve never seen Mamma Mia, but I loved him in Bridget Jones’s Diary, Pride and Prejudice. And I mean, Frances McDormand is my forever screen crush.

When you were little, who did you have a crush on?

Well, I had kind of obscure taste. Fred Durst. From Limp Bizkit. Yeah, yeah, I had a poster of him that I ripped out of J-14 above my bed. I dug him. [Laughs.]

So you were a bit of a head banger as well?

No, no. I just think I thought he looked cool.

You liked tattoos?

I still love tattoos. I loved tattoos then, I still love them now. I don’t have any, though. There’s still time.

What was the first album you ever bought?

I think the first album I ever bought … Was Samantha Mumba too late? When was Samantha Mumba? I really loved Samantha Mumba. I wish I could remember any of her songs now, but I can remember exactly what the cover of her album looked like. I think that probably was the first CD I bought with my own money. The cover of her album was orange. She had a great outfit on it, that’s all I remember. I remember holding that CD and I kept it with me for such a long time. It meant a lot, the first one you buy yourself with allowance or babysitting money.

Definitely.

I also had a lot of, you know, Backstreet Boys, Aaron Carter, 98 Degrees.

No NSYNC?

I was a Backstreet girl, no NSYNC. That felt like sacrilege. You can’t like them both.

What is your karaoke song?

Well, singing scares the f—ing living daylights out of me, so I don’t karaoke much. “I Will Always Love You” [by Whitney Houston] is really good and gets better the drunker you are. I love “Open Arms.” Journey’s always good. The Spice Girls. Oh, that was another album. I had all the Spice Girls albums. That’s a good karaoke song. Also gets better the drunker you get.

Most karaoke gets better the drunker you get.

That’s true. You get fearless.

Exactly. And where was your first kiss?

Oh my God. My first kiss was… Well, I don’t count this one, but my first actual kiss was in an Embassy Suites hotel room. My cousin and I met some boys and we were playing truth or dare and we sort of had a weird quick little kiss, but I don’t count that one. My first real kiss was in a slide on a playground with a boy that I liked when I was about 12 or 13.

That’s so cute.

We were in the middle of it. We managed to stop somehow in one of those big, tubular slides. It was very cute. It was yellow.

Wow, how romantic. Did he become your boyfriend?

No. [Laughs.] It was just a little crush. I was too young to have a real… I guess, now you’re not too young, but I felt too young then to have a real boyfriend. He was my sort of just my crush, and we kissed a little. I never told anyone that.

What’s your favorite Halloween costume you’ve ever had?

Well, so on the Austin Powers theme, when I was in fourth grade, I went as Vanessa Kensington.

No.

Yeah, and my mom made the costume for me. It was silver and had a little halter neck and some boots, some knee-highs. And I had my hair in like a cute little bump. People had no idea who I was. Nobody has any idea, I was explaining it all day long. It was epic, though.

Source: W Magazine

[irishwomanquotes]

Lady’s Home Magazine, 1858

The Irish Woman. …… “How has woman fared in such a horrible state of civilization? Not so unfortunately as one would be disposed to believe. Nowhere is woman’s innate superior moral power so apparent as in the manner in which she struggles against adverse circumstances if her lot happens to be cast among an unfortunate race. The Jewess presents a remarkable instance of this, and in a similar, although not so striking a degree, the Irish woman affords an evidence of the same womanly moral instinct. Not that repulsive scars are not painfully visible in the low Irish womanhood, but on the whole, we find that woman’s great virtues have flourished in the midst of mental desolation, actually seeming to have grown like flowers in the wilderness, to diffuse a fragrance of beauty over a pestilential atmosphere. Tenderness of sentiment, chivalric devotion to friends and relatives, chastity, and an indestructible faith—these are the qualities which distinguish the Irish woman, and which have rather been strengthened than weakened by the sufferings to which she has been subjected. It is, above all, the deeply rotted religious sentiment, which is her guardian angel. The love which she bears to the Virgin Mary may be taken as an allegorical exponent of the manner in which female virtue and female religion are mystically blended in her mind. Superficial observers may be disposed to cant at the intensity of a religious faith which borders almost upon superstition; but as long as the thinking faculties remain undeveloped, this vehement, emotional religious power constitutes the only redeeming element in semi-educated natures; and without it we should have the most appalling moral anarchy, where we now have a positive moral safeguard, which, for being the mere product of unreflecting sentiment, is not the less admirable in its influence, and blessed in its results. Constant suffering has imparted to this sentiment a heart-rending and thrilling character. Poor souls! Excruciating poverty, which produces that peculiar state of mind most open to supernatural influences, has been vouchsafed to them in a bountiful degree. They are poor, and feel that the Lord is always with them, and this feeling glimmers in their eye with a naive radiance of mystical consciousness. Their attitude in the Church, which exhibits no more faithful attendant than the poor Irish woman, further explains this peculiar feeling. She is not alone drawn thither by a sentiment of devotion; she makes her appearance there as a peeress in her own right; beneath her rags lurks a feeling of exultant pride, born of an instinctive consciousness of the inexpressibly great affinity between her own poor suffering heart, and that of the pious woman who wept over the lonely Savior’s grave. She has a right to be there; she feels it; and her very rags seem ennobled by this magic touch of faith. The domestic affections are nurtured by the same religious sentiment; and in the Irish woman’s love for her kindred she again manifests a striking resemblance to Eastern women; for failings in her fathers, husbands, brothers, or cousins, seem rather to increase than to diminish her affection, through a deep sense of Christian charitableness, engrafted upon her heart by Christ’s kindly disposition towards publicans and sinners. Nay, the horrible vice of drunkenness, to which her male relatives are so frequently addicted, and which entails upon her so many sufferings, loses for her, under this religious point of view, many of its monstrous features, and in some cases, indeed, finds in her a ready apologizer. There is in the poor Irish woman, in her resignation to her fate, in her kindliness towards her friends; and in the poor Irish girl, in the jealousy with which she watches over her honor, and in the generosity which she displays towards her parents, a touching pathos and a lyrical sadness, which words can but feebly express.

Page 94: We have watched the Irish in Ireland in 1847, 1849. The country was then prostrated by famine. Potatoes got tired of being healthy where all around was decayed, and the disease which broke out among these American vegetables, gave the death-blow to Paddy’s stomach. Piles of dying Celts were heaped upon the highways. Cork, Limerick, and other towns looked lie so many lazzaretti, and the general aspect of the people suggested to the mind the worst features of the barbarism of the middle ages. Again we have watched the poor Irish in London, where, in the dark alleys between the Strand and Holborn, and scattered all over the most miserable districts of the huge metropolis, they are found weltering in wild, riotous, titanic filth. We find them again here in this country; but in all instances, the poor Irish woman comes before us infinitely superior to the Irish man, and praying, and soothing, and hoping, while he is cursing, and groaning, and desponding.

“But it must be admitted that this innate moral beauty is not always reflected in her appearance; for this, in many instances, falls mightily short of aesthetically calculations; still the jumble of ecstatic and kindly emotion which agitates her soul, forming a burlesque contrast to the confusion of thought that bewilders her mind, often illuminates her countenance with character that shines with great pathetic effect upon the background of her social position. Nowhere is the bluntness of artistic preception so painfully evident as in the artist’s backwardness in seizing hold of the picturesque points of character which the aspect of the lower Irish woman unfolds. How painful to think that such things can be seen daily in the streets, without starting ideas of endless association in the minds of artists, who, instead of grappling with the extraordinary life around them, ever rush to Rome to copy for the hundred thousandth time a used-up Venus or a drowsy Madonna! Look at the poor Irish woman’s countenance, as ready to glow with religious rapture as to burn in beggarly frenzy. Follow her from the Battery to Church street, with as many babes creeping about her as she can well convey, awakening in the observant passer-by feelings of pity and commiseration, as she walks on with a kind of stolid self-possession, with a crazy pluck inherent in every movement, looking, indeed, as if her wretched condition was the normal state of humanity, and evidently bearing her cross with commendable good humor. If this is not a subject for a picture, then all that we read of Hogarth and Rembrandt, must be blotted out from the pages of Art history. There is something in this low Irish womanhood, which contains not only picturesque elements for the genius of the artist, but also generous characteristics appealing to the sympathy of the good and the gentle. See the steamer carrying bundles of drafts to old Erin, to the order of old folks at home! Behold the poor Irish Mary or Bridget saving every available cent of her wages, and pouring the money into the lap of distant friends! And now come, dear reader, let us peep into one of the poor Irish homes. The locality is indifferent. Galway answers as well as Brooklyn, and Liverpool as well as New York. Like the Jews and the gypsies, the Irish woman changes not, and the Irish home of the poorer classes preserves its time-hallowed features of confusion, in all lands and under all circumstances. That confusion is great indeed. As you enter the house you find your progress impeded at the outset by little half-naked urchins swarming around you, and by some old woman, who, half-kneeling, half-scrubbing, barricades the staircase, leaving you in doubt whether her movement is theological or domestic. AS you enter the chief room all kinds of bedding are strewn on the floor, smoking kettles rattle over the fireplace, pictures of the crucifixion are pasted upon the wall over the mantelpiece, near the bust of the Virgin Mary. The mistress of the house is all smiles, but cannot talk to you, as her father, who lies drunk on one of the beds, requires her attention; a perfectly naked little juvenile Irishman in a frolic jumps upon your lap; barely recovering from this shocking crisis, you are suddenly startled by a deep groan which proceeds from the throat of the old man’s wife, who has just received a conjugal kick, which all the skill of the daughter could not ward off; still greater is your excitement, when, in the midst of the general turmoil, the mistress of the house invites you to take tea with her, with a rosy, seraphic look, and evidently in a blessed state of ignorance as to the impression produced on your mind by her domestic arrangements. After a little while three or four old women grope their way in, and as soon out again. They are begging. Then a young girl toddles in, and receives a loud, noisy kiss from the mouth of her sister. Again a knock. This time a policeman, a friend of the family. Last night he caught a chap, who is the old man’s cousin, and a relation of the priest. The woman of the house is all ears; she has forgotten all about the tea and you, and you thank God if you get out of the ugly tenement while she is listening to the tale of the officer. Now with all this revolting reality, and in spite of the impressions produced by the filth and chaos of the dirty hovel you go from, you are sensible of a growing respect for the gentle and kindly poor Irish woman, who is the gleam of sunshine on a waste of misery.

“But we must turn now to the more educated classes, and conclude with a few characteristics of those found in families that, for hundreds of years back, have ben refined by devotion to professional or other pursuits more intellectual than trading or tillage of the soil. There are undoubtedly some Irish females whose minds are far above the level of the poor uncultivated class, whose forlorn position we have alluded to at some length; there are gentlewomen in the midst of all nations. Generally speaking, however, and taking the common run of Irish womanhood, but comparatively few Irish women of this stamp, such as constitute the delight of the society of Dublin, Cork, Belfast, and Waterford, are to be encountered here. They are dotted about in the social circles of the landed gentry and professional ranks of Britain, and in them we find every quality of head and heart blended into almost ideal significance. The excessive sentiment which in the lower classes appears repulsive in its crudity, is here made attractive through the delicate ministration of culture. The same kind and generous feelings which vibrate in the heart of the lowest Irish woman, thrill in the soul of her superior sister, but the music is as different as that between Christy’s Minstrels and Beethoven’s symphonies. We find the same loyalty to the Virgin Mary and to Christ crucified; but again the sentiment differs from that of the lower order of Celtic women, as the accomplished sisters of charity, who affectionately clustered around St. Theresa of Spain, differed from the religious rabble who, yelling and screaming, accompanied Walter the Penniless to the Holy Sepulcher. The exuberant fancy which in a poor Irish woman runs wild upon a priest or a drunken husband, is, with the refined, chastened by intellect and crowned by grace. Especially among the southern Irish ladies do we find these beau-ideals of womanhood; women that combine common sense with vivacity, and grace with sensibility; women whose delicacy of sentiment is ennobled by an instinctive recognition of the elementary principles of feminine nature. Such women do not abound; their number is limited. To alliances with such women England owes many of the great statesmen, soldiers, scholars, and poets that have graced and developed her civilization.”

Page 66: Another and homelier illustration the artist has given us in the unsophisticated wonder of an Irish woman, as a dress-maker exhibits to her staring eyes a splendid bridal robe, the work of patient fingers. Glancing back at the proposition advanced in the beginning, it is instructive to study the countenances of these two women, and mark how the life of each has outlined the face, and the ruling affections portrayed themselves therein.

Neither face is handsome. Both, we might say, are repulsive; yet not from simple lack of beautiful outline, but from expressive. It is the coarse, or sinister quality exhibited, that repels us, and awakens feelings akin to disgust. The artist mind has been at work within those material encasements for a long series of years, cutting, cutting, cutting away at the features, and his wonderful skill is showing itself more and more each day. Alas, that the work has not been more worthy of a human soul!