#this post inspired by me googling “low back hurts when i stand for more than 20 minutes”

[bittsandpieces]

Do you guys think it's a sign that every time I google something that's wrong with my body I end up on the ehlers danlos subreddit. Like do we think that means something

[avintagekiss24]

Home > Steve Rogers

|| pairing: 1940′s!steve rogers x black!reader

|| word count: 3,224

|| warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mention of war, mention of Bucky’s death, canon divergence/canon adjacent

|| challenge: @cake-writes​ 1940′s challenge: “Loose lips sink ships”

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ 2020 O5: Steve’s Compass

|| note: I totally forgot about this challenge, lol. I signed up for it last year and it just totally slipped my mind until today. Which is why I’m posting so late (here in the US anyway) so I can make the due date of today, May 8th. This is canon adjacent? Canon Divergence? I don’t know, lol. All I know is it’s 1945 and Steve never crashes his plane. He goes home to get his girl. The timing might be a little off. I went off the MCU timeline, where he gets injected around 1939? When he’s around 21 years old.

The song reader is singing is Lover Man by Billie Holiday and her outfit is also inspired by Billie. I’m not sure of the gif credit, I got it from google. If you know, or if it’s yours, please let me know so I can credit you! Line credit once again goes to @writeyourmindaway​!

Brooklyn. 1945.

“The night is so cold and I’m so all alone. I’d give my soul just to call you my own.” 

You sway slowly as you croon into the microphone, the band playing behind you. You scan the small room, packed with bodies, all eyes on you as you sing. They sip on their drinks under the dim lights and there’s a low murmur from the people at the bar, but even they turn and lean against it to watch you, putting their orders on hold for just a few minutes. It’s still amazing to you - a transplant negro girl from Louisiana - having all these faces staring back at you, admiring you. Black faces, white faces, tan faces, it didn’t matter. They were all here for you.

The bar is a small one but word spread fast and within months, not a chair or table or stool could be found empty on a Friday or Saturday night when you were there. The cops don’t even really bother you or Sam, the owner and one of the first people to notice your talent, anymore. Some even stop by for a drink and a quick song. 

Your eyes flutter shut, “Got a moon above me but no one to love me. Lover man, oh, where can you be?” You hear the door creak open and close seconds later, but continue to sing, “I’ve heard it said that the thrill of romance can be like a heavenly dream. I got to bed with a prayer that you’ll make love to me.”

There’s a sudden commotion. You pop your eyes open, squinting as you try and make out the dark silhouettes in the corner. A few heads turn at the voices and loud shhhh’s ring out throughout the room. The noise dies away from the door, but the bodies are still crowded around - Jimmy, the bouncer, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, the bartender and maybe Sam, you can’t tell. In the center of them, a mess of blonde hair. 

----------

“Steve,” Sam whispers hard, “She doesn’t want you here, you know that.”

Steve’s shoulders slump a little as he takes a deep breath, “I haven’t seen her in six years.” He answers slowly, softly, “Please.”

Sam and Rhodey exchange glances before Sam takes a deep breath. He tosses his eyes back towards the stage to watch as you sing. Quick memories flash back to him from years before. Steve helping, well trying to help, set up the place when Sam first bought it. You and Steve slow dancing together in the middle of the empty floor. The three of you kicking back with ice cold Coca Cola’s, daydreaming about how big this place was going to be one day. 

He cuts his eyes back to the tall blonde in front of him. He didn’t believe it at first, when he saw a picture of him in the papers. The sickly, five foot something Brooklyn boy was now a towering six foot man. Rippling muscles, no lingering cough, a straight spine… this wasn’t the Steve Rogers that left for war. This is Captain America standing in front of him now. 

“Sam,” Steve starts, “Rhodey, you know me.” He pleads, “Please, just a minute of her time, that’s all I ask.”

Rhodey lets out a breath and throws his hand on his hip, “Just let the boy stay. He gets outta hand, Jimmy’ll throw him out.”

Steve cuts his eyes towards the burly Jimmy. He’s big, but he’s no match for the new, improved Steve Rogers, “I don’t want to hurt you, Jimmy.”

“Shit,” Jimmy swears under his breath, “I’ve read all about you. I don’t want you to hurt me neither.”

“One drink.” Sam warns, his eyes stern, “One drink and you gotta go. I don’t want her getting upset over the likes of you.”

Steve throws up his hands, “One drink.”

“You got it?” Sam asks, turning towards the soft-hearted Rhodey.

“I heard ‘ya. One drink, that’s it.”

Sam turns on his heel and moves off without another word. Rhodey waves Steve with him, walking back behind the bar to grab a tall glass, “Sip it slow, Rogers.”

Steve tips his head towards the older man and accepts the golden liquid that’s slid his way. He brings it to his lips and takes a small, slow sip as he turns to face the stage. His eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You’re just as beautiful as he remembered, although, a little more grown up now. You’re in a black sequin, form fitting dress - low cut to expose your… one of his favorite parts of you. A large white flower is pushed into your hair and a small smile quirks onto his face. He used to love bringing you flowers. 

He closes his eyes so he can hear you, just like he used to. Suddenly, it’s 1935 again. The two of you, with Bucky pulling up the rear (only there for you and Steve’s protection), walk slowly home from school. They’d wait for you everyday, right around the corner of your school, and as soon as the two of you were out of eyeshot of anyone, he’d link his fingers with yours and kiss you right on your cheek. With your fingers laced together, your arms swinging gently, you’d sing some old song, one he’s never heard before, one you’d have to explain to him as an old southern spiritual. Bucky would always know the songs, but he wasn’t as sheltered as Steve. He was worldly already at seventeen. 

Steve lets out a slow breath as he lets the words of your song seep into him.

Strange as it seems

Someday we’ll meet and you’ll dry all my tears

Then whisper sweet little things in my ears

He has every intention of doing just that. 

----------

“A- huggin’ and a-kissin’, oh, what we’ve been missin’. Lover man, where can you be?”

You smile as the band finishes and the room erupts in applause for you. You thank the band, extending a hand of your own for them before you announce a short intermission for a quick smoke and a drink. Jimmy helps you off the stage and ushers you towards the bar, where you’re met with a large smile and a ready made Manhattan. 

“That was beautiful, doll.” Rhodey compliments, handing you a cigarette before striking a match, “Just beautiful.”

“You’re too kind,” you giggle as you lean forward, placing the cigarette to your lips for him to light, “I was a little flat.”

He waves you off, scoffing quickly, and gives you a wink before he moves to another patron. You take a drag of your cigarette and let out the smoke slowly before flicking the butt and bringing your drink to your lips. You hum lightly as the sweetened liquor slides down your throat and settles in your belly, giving you an instant warmth. You swear, you don’t care where you go, Rhodey makes the best damn Manhattan in all of New York. 

“You sounded amazing up there.”

You freeze as the voice sounds to your right. Your lips part as the familiar voice swirls around your brain, activating a part that you thought you had left behind. You turn towards the owner and gasp at the person staring back at you. You recognize most of him. His eyes, that wispy blonde hair that he used to sweep away from his forehead, those big ol’ ears. But, that strong jaw, the height, the thickness… you didn’t believe it then -  the stories, the pictures -  but God, you can’t deny it now. 

Doesn’t make you any less mad.

You drop your eyes back to the glass in front of you and take another drag of your cigarette, “Thank you.” You say flatly. 

“I always knew you’d make it one day.” Steve says softly, “I knew people would love you.”

“Not the right people apparently.” You snap back.

You close your eyes and rub your temple as the anger you buried six years before starts to resurface. You feel his eyes on you, those same blue eyes that you used to see your forever in. You turn back towards him, blinking quickly. You don’t say anything, you just stare at him while he stares back at you. Anger flashes through you again as he gives you those puppy dog eyes, trying to make you feel bad for him. 

“Why are you here?” You ask bluntly, “I told Sam I didn’t want you here.”

“I wanted to see you. I had to.”

“For what? Hmm? To spring something else on me, Steve? You have a wife? A kid on the way?”

He sighs as you practically scream at him, “It’s been six years, you can’t honestly still be this mad at me.”

“A lifetime could pass, and I still wouldn’t want to see your face.” You stand, grabbing your drink, “Give the Germans a message for me, hm? Tell them that if you’re still breathing, they aren’t doing their job so well.”

You turn and push through the crowd of bodies before he can say another word. You finish your set some hour or two later and stay behind for a little attention, after all, you are a single girl. You feel those eyes on you the entire while but you pay him no mind. You laugh, you flirt, you nuzzle in a little closer than you usually would - pull on a few ties. A twenty seven year old girl should be a wife. The man you thought would make you an honest woman decided war was the better option. 

It’s almost midnight before you decide to head home. It’s a nice night, the sky clear and full of bright stars, so you wave Sam off when he offers to walk you home. He insists, but you know this neighborhood like that back of your hand. You wouldn’t feel safer in any other place in the world. So, he wraps your fur scarf around your neck and sends you on your way with a quick kiss on the cheek and a smile. 

You’re not but ten steps away from the bar when you first notice the presence behind you. You stop to light another cigarette before you call out to him, “I don’t need you to follow me.”

“I’m gonna walk you home.”

“I don’t need you too.” You reinforce.

“I’m going to walk you home anyway. I’ll keep my distance, I promise.”

You sigh heavily. The persistence of him hasn’t changed and the pounding headache you have won’t let you argue. You walk slowly, taking in the fresh air and the calm night as the one and only Captain America follows you home. He keeps his distance, just like he promised. Once you climb the steps to your stoop, you turn again, watching as he stops at the bottom of the steps. 

“I’m home now, thank you.” You say flatly again, clearing your throat.

He nods gently, “My pleasure.”

You blink at him, your lips parting as words threaten to fall from them. You open your mouth wider, even inhale to begin to speak, but you can’t. The words just won’t come. The memories of your last night come flooding back to you - the screaming, the tears. If you walk out that door, don’t you ever think about coming back. Do you hear me, Steve? Don’t you ever come near me again!

Your eyes start to water at the thought. You have to turn your head away from him, you have to stare down the street to try and stop the tears from falling. It doesn’t work. You drop your head as a single tear slips down your cheek and splatters on your patent leather pumps. Your chin trembles as you glance back up towards the sky and hold your hand over your mouth.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, his voice full of emotion, “I can fix it.”

“We had plans, Steve.”

“I know that,” he answers quickly, “You aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Loose lips sink ships, Captain.”

He takes a deep breath, “I don’t really care if you or not. Let me fix it - I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You shout as all of the pent up emotion you’ve held in for all these years comes pouring out onto your cheeks, “Fix it? How are you going to fix it? I’m just supposed to forget that you walked out on me? That you chose killing Germans over starting a life with me?”

“You don’t understand-”

“I don’t need to understand! You and Bucky both, you just -” 

Your words come to halt at the mention of his name. Steve drops his head as he swallows hard and has to close his eyes. Bucky’s mother didn’t even have a body to bury. You couldn’t breathe when you heard the news. His sister, Rebecca, came to tell you and you just… you hadn’t ever felt a pain like that. James Buchanan Barnes was good to you - loved you like you were one of his own. Not only had you lost the love of your life, you’d lost your best friend now too. 

You clear your throat, “You both just left. No warning, barely a goodbye and poof. Gone.”

“I thought about you everyday,” Steve says, his eyes still closed, “Every damn day. You were the only thing that kept me alive.”

You laugh sarcastically, “Don’t say that. I had nothing to do with keeping you alive, that shit you got pumped into you did.”

He shakes his head emphatically, “You kept my heart beating. That’s what I mean. I was fighting for you, and for Sam, and my mom and dad. I had a duty,” he stresses, his voice breaking under it, “You don’t understand what that meant to me, being able to fight.”

You roll your eyes but he continues anyway, “It had nothing to do with my love for you. I could have done it better, yes. I could’ve communicated with you better, yes, but it had nothing to do with how much I loved you. How much I love you even now… despite you wanting me dead.”

You sigh heavily as your words from earlier in the evening, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean that.” You answer softly.

He flashes a knowing smile, “Yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes again and shrug. You glance back down the street, sniffling softly as you hug yourself. You can’t lie to yourself, you are glad he made it home in one piece. You blink back at him, finding his big, wide, blue eyes on you still. He takes a step closer, resting his hand on the railing. He pulls something from his pocket, running his fingers over the gold cover before he pops it open.

He takes another breath as a small smile spreads on his lips. He turns it towards you and holds it out for you to take. You eye him suspiciously for a few seconds, but you take a step, and then another, and another until you’re within reach of the round object. You take it from his fingers and bring it to your eyes, taking a breath when you see a picture of yourself staring back at you.

“That’s my compass. I used it every day - I saw you every day. You are why I made it home.” He says softly, his watery eyes bouncing between yours, “I’m home now - for good, and that’s how I can fix it. I willingly offer you every day of my life from this minute on. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll get for you. I’ll protect you, I will love you, I will honor and treasure you. I’ll give you every piece of me.”

You hold a hand over your chest, for fear that your heart will leap right out of it. You drag in deep breaths as you shake your head, “I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know you.”

“You know me,” he answers quickly as he pushes up the stairs to meet you, “I’m still me, just in a new body, that’s all.”

“I don’t want this new body. I loved you just as you were.”

He grabs your hands, bringing the backs of your fingers to his lips as you cry, “I know you did baby. Give me a chance, baby doll. Please? You’ll like this new body once you see it, I promise.” He smiles. 

You don’t. Deep in the back of your mind you want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and have him kiss your tears away and make love to you until you can’t stand it anymore. You want to wake up in his arms tomorrow and every day after that until you take your dying breath - but it’s not that easy. You were idealistic in highschool and stayed that way right up until the day he left, but you aren’t now. You can’t afford to be. It’s still only 1945. He’s still a white man, you’re still a negro woman. You’re still not able to mix, not that boldly anyway.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper.

He rests his forehead to yours, “It is that easy,” he whispers back, “Let me prove it to you.”

“No, it’s - they won’t leave us be. You can’t be with me - “

“Don’t you talk like that.” He says sternly, “I dare anybody to say anything to you. I’ll throw ‘em through a goddamn wall.”

“Steve - “

He cuts you off, bringing his finger to your lips. You close your eyes and take a few deep, calming breaths. God knows you want to believe him. You’ve been so angry for so long. He places his large hand to your chest, resting his palm right over your heart.

“I can make you love me again.” 

You inhale sharply as you look up at him, “I never stopped loving you, Steve. I never stopped.”

You moan when he crashes his lips to yours. He lifts you from your feet with complete ease, an ease you’ve never seen him display before, and crushes your now much smaller body to his. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you kiss him back hard, pulling back only to tilt your head before diving back in for more of him. You press your hands to the sides of his face as you catch your breath, his lips moving down to your chin and to your neck, placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin. 

You dig into your purse, pulling out your keys. He pulls back - out of breath, his lips flushed red and swollen as he stares up at you. You push your keys into the palm of his hand and wrap your legs around his waist as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. You close your eyes as he holds you tight, cradling an arm underneath your behind before he walks up to the front door of your building. He slips the key inside the lock and twists, pushing the door open, before you direct him to your humble apartment. 

You wake up in his arms the next morning, and every day after that until you take your last breath. 

[kyidyl]

Not Deer

(This was inspired by that post that was circulating about the Not Deer in Appalachia and the town that I currently live in.  @leftturnat4thandbananas​ I especially thought you would enjoy this little bit of quarantine-induced madness.  You’ll probably recognize some of the things I’m describing.)

“Alexa, stop!,” Macey yelled at the black cylinder sitting on her night stand.  The alarm shut off, and I started packing up my stuff.  I caught her frown as she watched me.  

“What?,” I asked, “It’s almost curfew.  You know how my mom is about curfew.”  

“It’s snowing outside, and it’s dark,” she swung around so she was sitting on the edge of her bed and flipped her long, dark braid back over her shoulder.  

I finished packing my homework into my backpack and stood, “It’s always dark and cold when I go home in the winter.  I’ll be fine.” 

Both the argument and the concern in her brown eyes was familiar.  She was definitely the mom friend in our group, “It’s not always snowing.  People aren’t careful in the snow.”  

“They’re never careful on that road,” we both lived along a back road that wound through farms and woods.  It had a lot of curves, hills, and blind spots - and no sidewalk.  But it was the only way to get home, so it’s the way I went.  She stood up too, following me as I left her room and started down the steps.  

“You can stay the night, you know.  My mom won’t mind.”  

“I know, Mace, but I will.  You know I don’t like getting ready for school here.  All my stuff is at home.  I’ve either got to get up at the ass crack of dawn,” which never happened because we always stayed up late talking, “Or do a walk of shame.”  

I let my backpack down in the hallway with a thunk, and retrieved my coat from their closet.  I’d brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat, too even though I normally don’t.  I was glad I’d grabbed them.  She stood on the bottom step, chewing her bottom lip.  Her parents were out to dinner, so she couldn’t bug her dad to drive me, but I know she would have if they’d been here.  She tried one more tactic to get me to give up on my walk home, “What about your mom? Can she come get you?” 

I shook my head, “Dad has the car.  Listen, I’ve walked home in the snow before.  It’ll be totally fine.”  

She sighed and dropped her arms, “This is what you were talking about earlier, isn’t it.  The worrying.”  

“Yeah, but it’s ok.  I get why you do it,” I gave her a quick hug and hefted my backpack onto my shoulders, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”  

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course! Later!”

“Later, Apple,” I smiled at her nickname for me and left.  After I closed the door behind me, I heard the lock click into place.  Her parents’ rules: if you’re home alone, you lock the door.  I shifted the weight of my books on my back, and looked around.  

Macey lived on a small farm, and so she had a long driveway between her house and the road.  I started walking, and the sand and rocks of the unpaved drive crunched under the soles of my shit-kickers.  Macey’s dad had salted the drive before they’d left, and the stones glimmered wetly in the moonlight.  It turned out that the snowing had stopped while we’d been hanging out, and the clouds had gone.  The ground was blanketed in a couple of inches of unblemished white.  Just enough to cover the grass, but not enough to get school canceled.  

The moon was out, bright and full, and it illuminated the flat, white expanse of the land that stretched out on either side.  The air smelled like ice and cold, like icicles and sleeping forest.  There was only a little wind, and it blew up swirls of loosely packed snowflakes from the ground.  Everything had that cushioned silence that follows a new snowfall.  

It took a few minutes for me to reach the actual road, and unlike the Romero family’s driveway, it hadn’t been touched by salt, sand, or plow.  Typical.  It probably would be covered until tomorrow morning.  Our little town wasn’t exactly proactive about things like that.  They preferred to suffer, I guess.  I gave an annoyed snort to the empty night,  

I was careful as I turned left onto the empty road, watching for the glow of headlights to give me some forewarning of a car.  None came, and I kept walking.  

Soon, the flat land of the farms gave way to the woods.  Houses, none of them of the new construction that made up the subdivisions further up the road, were set back from the road or behind a screen of trees.  This road had hills, and further along it the side of the road would give way to steep ditches and gullies.  Our here, there were plenty of animals.  My parents have hit deer especially a number of times; my dad even bought these weird things for his hood that are supposed to whistle and chase the deer away.  

As the landscape transitioned into woods, there was an old, broken barn.  Not even a barn, really, more like a two sheds stuck together.  Half of it was beaten, lilting boards and a slice for a door.  The other half was a rusting tin can of a structure, the metal walls little more than rust and the vines that held it together, and a set of open doors that led into gloom.  A barely-there metal roof was slanted over the rested half and pitched over the wooden half, and it was only slightly less rusted than the shed itself.  A useless decaying horse gate was off to the side, slanting drunkenly to the right, and a path into the woods was behind it.  

(picture to break up the wall o text.)

I hated that barn.  

It creeped me out.  The hairs on the back of my neck rose every time I got close.  Even as a little kid I hadn’t been curious enough to overcome that particular fear, and it hadn’t gotten better over the years.  Every time I walked home I crossed the street to avoid walking too closed to it and sprinted passed it.  But tonight, the snow and slickness made it dangerous for me to do either of those things.  My heart rate ticked up and I took my hands out of my pocket.  When it came to fight or flight, I was very much in the fight category.  It seemed like the wind blew a little harder, and suddenly I thought I could hear all kinds of noises that I hadn’t heard before.  

The cracking of a stick somewhere in the woods, almost like a gunshot in the dark.  

The fump has a pile of snow was pushed off of a branch somewhere.  

The flap and tumble of some unlucky bird.  

A barking dog menacing me from one of the homes nearby.  

These sounds were normal, but as I was walking in front of the sad, lonely little structure, they all seemed sinister.  They were living things, pulsing in the darkness when I wanted to be alone.  The sounds of my steps in the snow answered.  Shit kickers aren’t stealthy.  

I walked past that structure as fast as I could, the fear tightening my shoulders more with every step.  I clenched my teeth and my fists, and walked.  The stillness was oppressive now, where moments before it had been soothing.  Fear makes you see things in shadows.  

Which is why, when the winter-bared bones of the bush in front of the shed clacked and scraped together in a gust of wind, I screamed and ran.  Damn the snow, damn fight or flight, I was not looking to fight some supernatural entity tonight.  

Apparently, though, the laws of physics still applied to me.  I ran, but I didn’t get very far before I tripped have a big branch on the side of the road.  My feet slipped in the snow, and I went down face-first onto my hands and knees.  

In case you have ever wondered: snow does very little to cushion a fall onto rocks and rough pavement.  It only makes your clothes wet on top of giving you road rash.  And that ish hurts.  

“Great, Alisha, juuuust great.  Skinning your damned knees like a five year old because of some wind,” I grumbled aloud to myself as I stood and started brushing debris off the now-wet knees of my jeans.  I checked under my gloves, and while my hands stung, the gloves had saved me from the words of the skinning.  In fact, the worst was the throbbing on the back of my head where my backpack had slid up my back and smacked my head.  Well, that and the knowledge that whatever goblin lived in that shed was probably having a laugh at my expense.  

The fall did do one good thing, though.  It broke through the worst of my fear, and I laughed to myself as the adrenaline started wearing off.  I started down the road again, stomping in protest, my cold hands jammed back in my pockets.  

From here, the road got darker as the trees reached overhead.  Even in the winter they blocked most of the light from the moon, and out here in the country they didn’t bother with street lights.  The embankments on the side of the road rose and forced me to walk directly on the road instead of off to the side.  This was the most dangerous part, because this was also where the tight curves started.  I felt my adrenaline spike again, but this time there was nothing supernatural about it; I was alert for headlights bouncing off of the tree branches.  

As I walked, I listened to the world around me, my caution making my senses stretch further.  I heard the same things as before: the cracking of sticks in the forest as some creature shuffled around them, the huffing of a dog that probably just wanted to play, the whispered hush of snow rearranging itself in the trees, and the occasional noise of some small creatures settling in for the night.  They were the same noises I always heard around here at this time of year, familiar as the nose on my face.  It’s funny how the mind plays tricks.  

I found a good walking speed that wasn’t so fast it was dangerous, but wasn’t so slow that I’d be frozen before I got home, and the time passed quickly.  Before I knew it, I was almost at the little bridge before the turn off for my house.  Really, bridge was a generous word for the small overpass that took the road over the little creek.  It was just a flat stretch of road with a thin shoulder and a low concrete guardrail.  On the other side, the road curved out of view.  

(another pic to break up the wall o text.  Both images are screenshots of Google street view edited in PS.)

Here, the trees pulled back some and the moon was able to shine clearly on the flat surface of the bridge.  There, standing in the middle of the road, was a huge buck.  I’ve seen a lot of deer living out in the stix, but this was easily the biggest one I’d ever seen.  I’m 5′2, and this thing looked like its shoulder would be somewhere around my head.  I didn’t even know they could get that big.  The moon painted its orange-brown coat with silver, and threw the shadows created by its twisting antlers into sharp relief.  They were as big as him - thick and heavy, and wickedly sharp.  I couldn’t count the points from here, but it had to be at least twelve.  

Wait...antlers? It was February.  My dad liked to hunt, and even though I’d never gotten into he, he’d taught me a few things about deer.  One of those things was that the bucks dropped their antlers earlier than this, and it was a good time to go hunting for the shed racks in the woods.  This deer shouldn’t have any antlers this late in the season.  

I stopped in my tracks, and as I did, it whipped its head around to look at me.  There moonlight was a sharp little blade in the dark eyes of this thing as it stared at me from the other side of the river.  It stared, and stared, and as it did, the same fear grabbed hold of my guts and scratched its way across the nerves of my skin.  My heart was pounding, my muscles clamped tight.  This was nothing like the fear I’d felt while passing the shed.  It seemed like a cozy little refuge, now, as I started down this deer.  

I couldn’t understand why I felt this way - it had done nothing but be big and not shed its antlers yet.  That logic didn’t matter.  I wasn’t getting a single step closer to that thing.  I ground my teeth as I stared at it.  I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.  Right now, my actions were being guided by a part of my brain that kept my ancestors alive.  

Predator, it screamed, that is a predator!

It made no sense.  It was a deer.  Sure, they’d eat meat sometimes if it was around.  They looked at gut piles like they were treats this time of year, but they didn’t kill and eat humans.  That was another thing my instincts were saying - hungry.  This thing was hungry.  I still couldn’t say why or how I knew any of this, but I knew it down to the red marrow of my bones.  

It was strange - the longer I stared down that deer, the more of a tug I felt to keep walking.  To cross the river.  But the terror was useful; it kept me from following that impulse.  The deer huffed, and its breath didn’t fog in the cold.  My brain filed that detail away automatically with the height and the antlers.  The animal sounded frustrated, although it shouldn’t have been possible for me to identify that emotion so clearly.  

Then it started pacing.  I watched in fascination horror as it moved with an awkward, stuttering gate.  It didn’t seem to know how to place its hooves, and it swayed back and forth, all while not taking its too-intelligent eyes off of its prey.  It didn’t know how to move properly, and I remembered that my dad had told me of an illness.  Chronic Wasting Disease - mad cow for deer.  He told me how to spot one, and to steer clear of it.  He told me it was neurological; that it made it hard for them to move.  

But this wasn’t that.  No, this deer moved like it was something else wearing the skin of a deer.  Like it was new to that body and didn’t know how to use it.  Its fumbling reminded me of the way a toddler moved - wobbling and unsure of what its muscles should do, but enthusiastic about being up and walking instead of crawling.  It was like that, but with far less innocence and far more jerks and twitches in its movement. It almost looked like it was adjusting its deer suit as it paced on its side of the river.  

It huffed again and then growled.  Not like a tiger or a dog would growl, more like a cat growling if that cat had the vocal cords of a high-pitched cow. I screamed in surprise and covered my ears at the sound.  

Come.  Here.  I could feel its anger and frustration pressing in on me, looking for purchase, looking for a crack in my terror.  

There was none.  It was all-encompassing.  It was terror of the sort that fueled strength.  Terror that sharpened your mind, that made time slow so you could think faster and survive.  It was the same kind of terror that had saved the earliest of my kind on the savannahs in Africa.  It was terror that whispered to me with a small, comforting voice, do not cross the moving water.  

Of course - it hadn’t even attempted to cross the stream, pacing back and forth over where the edge of the stream was rather than where the edge of the bridge was.  It couldn’t cross the moving water.  

As soon as I had the thought the creature’s growling was honed into a scream.  It stood on two legs, making it tower over me.  It was trying to be more threatening, but I knew now.  I knew as long as I stayed over here I was ok.  

“No,” I said, my voice stead and calm.  I wasn’t loud, but my voice carried in the snowy stillness and into the moon-bright night, “I won’t cross.  You can’t have me.”  

It screamed at me again, eyes narrowing in an almost human expression of incredulity.  Inside my clothes, my skin was hot from the anger coming from the not-deer, sweat trickling down my spine, but I planted my boots and fisted my hands and would not move.  I could taste ice on my tongue, and I took a deep breath through my mouth, letting the cold soothe me.  

Then, there was a sound.  High pitched and clear, it came from somewhere in the woods or fields around us.  It was sweet, and some of the heat of the not-deer’s anger seeped away from my skin.  Its had flung around awkwardly towards the sound and it went back on all fours with a loud thud.  It snorted and pawed the ground, but it hesitated.  Then, the call came again, louder this time.  With a final, angry look at me, it took off into the forest away from me and the road home.  

I stood there on that road waiting, too afraid to cross, until I was sure that I couldn’t hear it crashing through the bushes anymore.  Then I took off like a shot, snow be damned.  I ran across the creek, my feet sliding as I took a sharp right onto the road that led to my house, down that road and up to my house.  I ran straight in the front door, locked it behind me, and pounded up the steps to my room.  

I texted Macey when I got my backpack off, but I knew it was going to be a long, sleepless night.  

[benjaminwilliamsonphoto]

Best Places to Photograph in Maine - Coast

How to Use this Guide:

The goal of this post is to get you started on your journey of discovery on the coast of Maine. I’ve done my best to lay out some of the most inspiring and beautiful places to make photographs. These are proven winners, so to speak. If you haven’t seen them before, you will revel in visual impact of these locations. That said, I hope that you go beyond this list and find your own favorite places and create new and exciting images that haven’t been done before. Thankfully in outdoor scenic photography, changing weather conditions provide changing opportunities to capture familiar places in a new light. And, before you copy that composition that you saw someone else do, take a look around and consider how you might see things differently. Go beyond the obvious. Remember, there is much more than just checking off icons. Explore, drive aimlessly, look around on Google Maps, surf the web for interesting places and find out where they are. That’s where the real fun for me is, the feeling of discovery and the creation of something that hasn’t been done before. So, show us what you are interested in and how you see the world.

     1. Nubble - 

The Cape Neddick Light, also known as Nubble, is a can’t miss location for several reasons. The lighthouse sits at the peak of a rocky island just a few yards offshore. The tower is connected by a covered walkway to a beautiful gingerbread-style keeper’s house, with several outbuildings neatly arranged around it. These just happen to be painted a photographer’s favorite colors, red and white. The very exposed location means it is subject to the extremes of light and weather. Most photographers like to visit at sunrise, because facing east, the sky is likely to be more interesting. That said, I’ve seen many compelling images of Nubble taken at sunset, as direct light falls on the lighthouse and island. The accessibility of this location makes it very popular, but also a great opportunity for folks with limited mobility and for photographers who don’t want to have to hike for miles. The view from the parking lot is great! If you are a bit more adventurous, I suggest you photograph this lighthouse from the rocks below the parking lot and include some wave action in your foreground. Just be careful because the ocean isn’t something you should mess around with. Always be aware of the water and remember no photo is worth hurting yourself, or even worse, your gear!

Photo Tips: I recommend using a wide-angle lens here, something in the 24mm range on a full frame camera. That way you can craft a classic landscape composition with interesting rocks and crashing waves in your foreground, the island and lighthouse in the mid-ground, and hopefully a beautiful sky in the background. At super wide angles the lighthouse appears too small in the frame, so I usually stay away from anything smaller than 16mm. For this same reason, I find the mid-ranges of 35-70mm to be useful, as you can set up further away and pull in the lighthouse a bit for more “normal” perspective. Those interested in just showing the arrangement of buildings should use a telephoto lens.  

Best Times of Day: Sunrise, Pre-Sunset, Blue Hours

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Tides: Mid to High

Access: Easy

Other Notes: Nubble has become a go-to destination to capture a dramatic moonrise. This is done with a long telephoto lens, usually 400mm or more, from Long Sands Beach, between November and February, as the angle of moonrise is farther to the north. Also, round the Christmas season, and also during a “Christmas in July” celebration, the structures are decorated with lights, making a beautiful photo op at twilight or after dark.

     2. Marginal Way Ogunquit - 

Marginal Way in Ogunquit is one of the most popular places in Maine to take a walk along the ocean. The trails are well maintained and the grade is gentle, providing an easy way to enjoy the jagged rocks of the Maine coast. More adventurous landscape photographers tend to shrug their shoulders at the idea of making images here, but it should not be ignored. If you like to create seascapes, I think Marginal Way is possibly the best location in Southern Maine to practice this. Sure, there are great rocks down the road at Bald Head Cliff in York, Ocean Ave. in Kennebunkport, and at the tip of Biddeford Pool, but Marginal Way has the best combination of rock formations, sandy and rocky beaches, angles of light, and accessibility. I really like the beaches to the left of Israel’s Head. There are many rocks embedded in the sand here that create great foreground interest as the waves lap over them. To the right of Israel’s Head are a more uniform expanse of jagged rocks. Of special interest is a large chasm that marks the edge of the head to the southeast. There is a bit of elevation at points along the walking path, but if you stand too far back from the water, the foreground can be far too busy, without discernible lines and shapes, to be of much use. I recommend getting close to the water’s edge where you can get a simpler, more dynamic image. 

Photo Tips: A wide-angle lens is my go-to for capturing waves crashing over rocks in my foreground along with a great sky. Try varying your shutter speed from anywhere from 1/15 second to 5 seconds to show the motion of water in your image. A ND filter can help you achieve these results as the light gets brighter. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise

Best Times of Year: Summer

Tides: Mid to High

Access: Easy at sunrise, restricted by a large number of tourists creating very limited parking in season during the day and evening

Other Notes: Like most of our coastal locations, this spot can be much more interesting in high surf. As for parking, I like to park on Israel Head Road by the small concrete “lighthouse”. This probably isn’t an option any time after 9 AM, especially in the summer, but again, my preferred time to be here is at sunrise, not when everyone else is here! 

     3. Cape Porpoise - 

Seemingly just in the last year or so, Cape Porpoise has been discovered by photographers. What is everyone coming for? An authentic working harbor almost smack-dab in the middle of the crazy tourist nonsense that is the south coast of Maine. Standing on the pier at sunrise or sunset, I rarely come across anyone other than fishermen. From there you can see Goat Island Lighthouse, lobster boats and dinghies, and often, piles of lobster traps stacked around you. The big photographic attraction these days, though, is across the harbor at the brand-new, made to look historic, fishing shed on stilts near Langsford Road Lobster & Fish. There has been a steady stream of New England photographers all getting their take on this subject, and it’s easy to see why. The best time to capture this is at high tide in the winter, when the sun rises behind it, hopefully with still water so you can get a great reflection. Parking might be a challenge here, and there might be a time when locals tell us to buzz off, but in the meantime, I think this area has a lot to offer the photographer looking for great scenery in Southern Maine. 

Photo Tips: I use the full range of lenses in Cape Porpoise, a wide-angle to capture the sunrise behind the shack, a medium lens to juxtapose boats in the harbor with distinctive buildings, and a long lens to pull in Goat Island Lighthouse. If you are looking for inspiration here, Bob Dennis is a great local photographer who has many beautiful images from this neighborhood. Find him at www.kportimages.com. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise

Best Times of Year: Fall and Winter

Tides: High

Access: Somewhat Restricted

Other Notes: Please be mindful of both private property and folks trying to live and work. Don’t be a jerk and make the rest of us look bad and lose access to this wonderful place. 

     4. Old Orchard Beach Pier -

Old Orchard Beach is a tourist trap during the day, but during the golden hours and bad weather, it’s one of the best photo opportunities in Maine. The long pier loaded with tacky businesses jutting out into the ocean is an easy-to-capture subject in an extremely easy-to-reach location. Sometimes I think the easiness can be misleading, and we relax our creative muscles when approaching it. I like to see photographs that capture something different, and this can certainly be a challenge. Sunrise at high tide can seem like the most flattering time to capture the pier, but actually, low-tide sunsets have provided the best images I’ve seen. That’s because the muddy sand takes on a glossy sheen at low tide that reflects the pier and ferris wheel at the adjacent Palace Playland amusement park. The angle is not looking out to sea, but instead, looking back at the land from out beyond the pier. There are also opportunities to capture large waves, sea smoke, and other visual delights on this stretch of sandy beach. Be creative! 

Photo Tips: Try going from a wide-angle to a telephoto lens, slap on a ND filter on for long exposures, walk up and down the beach, get low and get high. One popular way to capture the pier is to shoot the sun through the pilings at sunrise in the winter. You can also find patterns in the sand at times, and the shadows from the pilings at sunrise make a great foreground. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise year-round and Sunset in the off-season

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Tides: Low to High

Access: Easy at sunrise, restricted by a large number of tourists creating very limited parking in season during the day and evening

Other Notes: Hot summer day? Stay Away!

     5. Portland Head Light - 

This place deserves every superlative and more. I simply cannot think of a better location to make a landscape photo in Maine if I could only pick one. The generally east-facing shoreline makes this a sunrise location. I’m not a fan of sunsets from this location, as it falls into shadow long before, but you could prove me wrong and capture a great sunset here. Just be aware that they start asking folks to leave the park then, and sometimes you might be kicked out just as things are getting good! My favorite time to capture PHL is when the sun’s first rays are hitting the landscape. There is an obvious photo op from behind the fence to the right of the lighthouse looking out to sea. With a strong c-curve and a well balanced composition with the lighthouse placed at the intersection at the left and upper third, this is a no-brainer great shot, but I advise you to do more. They’ve been kind enough to install a gate to allow people who like to climb around on the rocks to go explore. That’s where I like to be these days, looking for leading lines in the rocks above and getting down close to the waves, as well. On the other side of the light, to the north, you can walk out on a high cliff and capture a beautifully backlit scene during winter sunrises, or get directional light from the northeast on the cliffs and buildings in summer. You can also walk further up the path and down onto beautifully rounded cobbles that make a fantastic foreground for those willing to risk falling on the extremely slippery stones. I visit at all times of year, but I must admit that winter is my favorite for the drama, and the fact that I can usually have it all to myself.

Photo Tips: I use all of my lenses here, but most often a wide-angle. In the spring there are beach roses that make a great foreground subject, and at all times of the year you have great rocks and hopefully some wave action to create interest in your images. Don’t forget to look out to sea and see Ram Island Ledge Light, which makes an especially great subject to capture with a full moon and also large waves during an ocean storm! 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise

Best Times of Year: Year-Round 

Tides: Low to High

Access: Easy, although be aware that the gate can be locked before 5 AM and you will be ushered out of the park at sunset. 

Other Notes: A lot of folks worry about getting into the park early. In my experience, the Cape Elizabeth police usually open the gates around 5AM, which is fine every month of the year except June and July, when the sunrise time is extremely early and the gate can sometimes be closed.

     6. Portland Waterfront - 

Portland’s waterfront can be an absolute playground for photographers. You just can’t think of it as a pure landscape photo-op. This is gritty, working waterfront, with dirty boats, dilapidated sheds, concrete piers and wooden pilings, and these days, fancy yachts, restaurants, offices, condominiums, and a gleaming cruise ship terminal. These contrasts are what makes it interesting. Portland has become a hotspot for travelers and especially foodies, but it remains only lightly touched by photographers. That means you can and should explore the wharves and search for your own unique compositions, unaware of any preconceived notions. My favorite areas to look are behind Harbor Fish Market, Widgery Wharf, and at the end of the Portland Fish Pier. The waterfront really extends all the way around Portland Harbor to South Portland, and there are great views looking back at the city from that side. While you’re at it, you might as well head down to Bug Light, an awesome sunset and sunrise location. If you make it there, you might as well continue on to Spring Point Ledge Light, one of the most impressive sea smoke photo opportunities in the world with that great leading line of the breakwater. Is that still the Portland waterfront? I think so. 

Photo Tips: There are a lot of opportunities for detail shots here, so photographers who aren’t just into grand landscapes will go nuts. Bring a mid-range lens and a telephoto to take advantage of these smaller scenes, and think about what kind of stories you want to tell. This place really shines in the fog, and overcast days are just fine, too. I like to shoot across the harbor looking back at the city during the blue hour, and also look for the full moon lined up with one of the spires with a telephoto lens. 

Best Times of Day: Any

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Access: Mostly Easy, some of the wharves are restricted, and parking can be a challenge in during the day and evenings in season

Tides: Low to High

Other Notes: I love stopping at Becky’s Diner after a sunrise shoot for breakfast. 

     7. Lookout Point -

A hidden gem for the most part, Lookout Point in Harpswell offers two great delights for photographers, a working lobster pier and two picturesque islands sitting just offshore. This allows you to capture either a pure landscape, or, as I like to do, show something of the culture that makes this part of the world unique. Along with Marshall Point and Bass Harbor Head Light, this is one of the finest sunset locations in the state. The shoreline faces generally west, with a big open bay and more islands offshore. There is a great opportunity to see the progression of the sunset from northwest in the summer to the southwest in the winter. It really is eye-opening to how photo opportunities change with the seasons. I love watching storms roll in here, and I’ve caught some awesome lightning bolts from the safety of my hatchback. Don’t be afraid to walk out on the pier, the owner Albert is a nice guy and loves sharing the beauty he enjoys on a regular basis. 

Photo Tips: I usually shoot into the light at sunset here, focusing on silhouettes of the islands, hopefully with great reflections at high tides. Another way to approach this scene is to shoot side-light on the lobster fleet parked to the south. This is also a great location to shoot in the fog. I find the wide-angle range to be very effective looking at the islands to the northwest from the pier, but I like to zoom in a little tighter when I’m shooting from the parking lot or the pier looking southwest. 

Best Times of Day: Sunset

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Access: Easy

Tides: Mid to High

Other Notes: On the other side of the parking lot, you can sometimes find a dory filled with fishing nets that makes a wonderful photo opportunity. I hope it is still there when you read this.

     8. Five Islands - 

Maine has many wonderful fishing harbors. It’s hard to single out just a few, because they are all special. What sets Five Islands a notch above are the namesake islands sitting just offshore. These provide a dramatic setting for a working harbor filled lobster boats, the town wharf, and a popular local seafood shack. I rarely visit in the summer when this place can be very busy, but even when I have, I usually have it to myself at sunrise. In the summer you’ll see a few sailboats and pleasure craft among the work boats, but they don’t really detract from the sense of place. A red cottage sits at the end of Malden Island, and this has been incorporated into many of my favorite compositions from here. There is also a yellow cottage sitting on a cliff to the right when you come down the hill, another great subject. 

Photo Tips: Putting together a strong image can be a challenge here. Most of the time, boats are my main subject, and I build the image around them. A wide-angle lens is a good place to start, but a mid-range lens will be effective just as often. Walk around to get a feel for the place, and notice any dinghies or skiffs that are pulled up to the wharf that might make a good foreground. The buildings are quite unique here, and I love incorporating them in my images, or making them the focus entirely. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Tides: Low to High

Access: Easy

Other Notes: The seafood shack is a great place to grab lunch if you find yourself there on a sunny summer day. 

      9. Pemaquid Point Light - 

A true gem of Maine, Pemaquid Point has some of the most interesting coastline in the state, and a picturesque lighthouse with sweeping ocean views from the northeast to the southwest. Down East Magazine calls it the #1 lighthouse in the state. It was also chosen to represent Maine on our state quarter. Surely that’s enough to recommend this awesome location. I like coming at sunrise, but I’ve seen good images made at all times of the day and night. Of course, during the day in the summer, you will have to clone out hundreds of people from your images, so it’s best to come either very early, very late, or in the off-season. The best angles are from the rocks and rosa rugosa bushes down to the left when you walk from the parking lot, and of course from the incredible striated rocks to the right. The famous puddle reflection will beckon you, and you should listen and go ahead and take it. It’s cliched for a reason, the composition is really cool. But please, look around and make your own images, there’s still a lot to work with!

Photo Tips: A 24mm lens on a full frame camera or 18mm on a crop sensor will gather the majority of your major scenics here, but there is so much more than just the big views. I love making graphic compositions with the bell tower, the chimneys, the fence and lighthouse tower, the windows, etc. Try to include the ocean in your photo, which can be a real challenge here. Photograph the rocks by themselves and look for interesting abstracts. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise, Any Time

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Tides: Low to High

Access: Easy (fee during the day)

Other Notes: Pemaquid is extremely dangerous when the surf is high. The rocks are terribly slippery, and there is really no way to get back to shore without getting pummelled against them. 

     10. Monhegan Island - 

While well-known among painters for centuries, Monhegan has been generally overlooked by serious photographers. Maybe that’s because it requires a little effort to get out here. You need to take a ferry to this small island that’s ten miles from the mainland. The island itself if barely a square mile, and when you walk around you feel like you are going back in time. There are less than 70 year-round residents, and no cars. You definitely want to stay overnight if you can to take advantage of the golden hours here, and the relaxed pace, perfect for art-making. Over half of the island is a nature preserve, and if quaint New England fishing villages aren’t your scene, there are 150-foot cliffs on the back side of the island. These are the tallest cliffs on the eastern seaboard of the U.S.! The wooded paths are beautiful, and perfect for photographing on foggy or overcast days. The village itself is a dream for photographers like me who revel in culture as well as natural beauty, with spots such as Fish Beach and the Landing holding all kinds of potential. There is also a shipwreck on the south side of the island, a large rusted hulk of metal splayed out on the rocks. The best location on the island has to be lighthouse hill. The view from the top is stunning. You are looking down on the entire village and also Manana Island, and behind you is a beautiful 19th-century lighthouse with the classic New England architecture of a main house with sheds and covered walkways added on throughout the years, creating a beautiful jumble of boxed shapes and lines. 

Photo Tips: The backside cliffs can be challenging to capture, and I think midday light is sometimes better than the deep shadows of the sunrise, especially in the summer. There are many, many opportunities for detail shots here. I particularly like the hand-painted signs you see everywhere. At sunset, the best places to be are at the lighthouse, fish beach, and the landing. Be sure to turn around and notice what the light is doing around you. Many times that will be more interesting than the sunset itself.

Best Times of Day: All Day

Best Times of Year: Spring and Fall

Tides: Low to High

Access: Difficult 

Other Notes: Ferries leave from Port Clyde, New Harbor, and Boothbay Harbor. There are 3 Inns on the Island, and I like them all. Monhegan Brewing Company is a must-visit, even if you don’t like beer. I’ve seen two people who have never liked beer sit and enjoy one here, and it’s a great opportunity to meet other folks who live on or visit the island. It really is an amazing place.

     11. Marshall Point Light - 

Sunset locations in Maine can be hard to come by. Most of our shoreline faces east, in the direction of the rising sun. There are a few exceptions to this, however, and Marshall Point in Port Clyde is one of the most notable. The walkway is the defining feature of this lighthouse, and the keepers house is also particularly beautiful. In the summer it can be crowded at sunset, and more than once I’ve seen wedding parties here, crowding the walkway for the majority of the time. I like to visit in the fall and winter, as the walkway points more to the southwest, so you get a better angle on any potential sunsets anyways. In addition to the obvious down-the-walkway image, there are opportunities to photograph through the pillars on the porch, behind wildflowers on the shore, and the rocks all around the lighthouse. I’ve seen one or two stunning puddle reflection shots here, too. 

Photo Tips: A medium range lens is your friend at Marshall Point. I find that a wide-angle lens makes the lighthouse appear too small in my images. Try stitching a panorama of the view from the rocks far over to the left. More adventurous souls can walk out onto the rocks and get dramatic impressions looking at the tower from underneath. 

Best Times of Day: Sunset

Best Times of Year: Fall and Winter

Tides: Mid to High

Access: Easy, closed after sunset

Other Notes: This used to be a wonderful place to capture the milky way at night, but since they replaced the lantern with an led light, it just doesn’t look as good. They are also shoo-ing photographers out after sunset, from what I hear.

     12. Boulder Beach - 

There are a few of what I would classically beautiful, pure landscape photo opportunities in Maine. This is one of them. The wonderfully rounded boulders that give this location its name make a perfect foreground for a sweeping c-curve that brings you to a focal point of the wonderful Otter Cliffs and then into what is hopefully a beautiful sky. The angle of light is from the side year-round, but in the winter you are much more likely to get colorful clouds in the field of view. The trick here is to carefully compose around the most picturesque boulders. Most of these are found above the high tide line, but there are a few at and below this line that can be captured with waves crashing against them. I think both of these options work. 

Photo Tips: A wide-angle lens can seem like the obvious option here, but again, the background just looks too far away at 14-18mm. I like to stay in the 24-50mm range, and keep Otter Cliffs looking impressive. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise

Best Times of Year: Fall and Winter

Tides: High

Access: Somewhat challenging due to very slippery stones and a steep climb down an embankment. 

Other Notes: This is a great location to capture the milky way. The best time of year to do this is in March and April, when it rises right in the most optimal position above the beach. It will likely be bitterly cold, and maybe even snowy, but you will love the results. 

     13. Jordan Pond - 

Wait, you say, this isn’t a coastal location! While not on the ocean, I’m considering Jordan Pond a coastal location based on the fact that it sits a little more than a mile from the sea in the middle of what is considered the finest coastal national park in the United States. Acadia has many popular spots that are totally overrun with tourists and selfie-takers, this being one of them. While this is true during the day, don’t let that deter you from visiting at sunrise or sunset. Even at the height of the summer season, you can find a spot to set up on the shoreline and have some peace and quiet, along with about 1,000 mosquitoes and a couple of other photographers. The form of the two hills rising behind the pond is very attractive. Why it is so attractive, I can’t be sure. I think it has something to do with them resembling certain parts of the human anatomy. Anyways, I digress. 

Photo Tips: You can go for the obvious composition by placing rocks in your foreground, the pond in the mid-ground, and hills in the background, but you can also incorporate attractive trees, some mysterious underwater pilings, and water streaming through the rocks to take your composition to the next level. A wide-angle lens works here, but also try exploring opportunities in the mid-range, as well. 

Best Times of Day: Sunset

Best Times of Year: Year-Round, more backlit in summer

Tides: N/A

Access: Easy

Other Notes: If you happen to be in Maine when there is the opportunity to see the northern lights, or aurora borealis, this is the place to be. The north view across the pond with the two hills makes the perfect photo opportunity. 

     14. Bass Harbor Head Light - 

I almost left this location off the list. Why? Because it is insanely frustrating to shoot here most of the time. There is really only room for a few people to set up tripods in the most optimal spots, and even then you aren’t guaranteed that someone won’t simply walk in front of you when the light is going off. Parking can be a nightmare. The only option in the summer is to arrive hours before sunset and claim your spot, and then wait. A much better plan is to come back in the off-season, when the light is actually better, anyways. That’s because the shoreline here faces south, and in the summer the sun sets behind the lighthouse and land to the north. A much more flattering set up happens in the fall and winter when the sun sets to the south out over the water, and can cast wonderful golden light on the landscape. Did I mention that there are too many people here in the summer?

Photo Tips: A wide-angle lens makes the most sense here because you are literally feet away from the lighthouse. Although the optimal position is right below the light, on the shoreline with waves crashing at your feet, you can get good images a little further up on the rocks, too. I’ve seen lobster traps washed up here that make a great foreground, and sometimes you can get a nice shot looking at the lighthouse framed by trees, as well. 

Best Times of Day: Sunset

Best Times of Year: Fall and Winter

Tides: High

Access: Challenging due to crowds and treacherous footing on slippery granite. 

Other Notes: This might be a good time to brush up on photographer etiquette. At no time is it OK to set up in front of someone who is already there and set up for their shot. 

      15. Raven’s Nest - 

Another pure landscape location, with no sign of the hand of man, Raven’s Nest is a dramatic perch on tall cliffs looking west on the Schoodic Peninsula. This used to be a very hard-to-find spot, although now it has been marked on Google Maps. There is only room for a few cars to park here, so arrive early and claim your spot. The cliffs are very dramatic, and you’ll see great views to the south and west here. There is a spot you can wedge yourself underneath the trees and point through a chasm that nicely frames the cliffs to the south. If you find that too treacherous, the views to the right looking back at MDI and Cadillac Mountain are great, too. 

Photo Tips: One of the better night locations in New England, Raven’s Nest is a great place to practice Milky Way photography. I’ve been lucky enough to capture bioluminescence in the water here, one of the coolest experiences I’ve ever had. Use a wide-angle lens to accentuate the drama, and time your visit with high surf if you can. The basic setting to capture the night sky are as follows: Use your fastest wide angle lens, hopefully f/2.8 or better. Open it up to the widest aperture. Focus manually on the brightest star or distant point of light you can find. Set your shutter speed from 10-30 seconds. Set your ISO from 3200-6400. Check your histogram to insure that you are getting the proper exposure, remembering that the lcd can be deceptively bright at night. 

Best Times of Day: Sunset and Night

Best Times of Year: Summer

Tides: High

Access: Challenging due to limited parking and unstable footing at the edge of very high cliffs. 

Other Notes: My friend Adam Woodworth is a world-renowned expert on landscape astrophotography. Download his free e-book to learn more about the subject by clicking on this link: Adam’s E-Book 

     16. West Quoddy Head Light - 

It is fitting that the last item on this list happens to be the easternmost point in Maine, and also the country. West Quoddy Head is a spectacular location. The light tower has very distinctive red and white stripes, and there are expansive views of the ocean, a prominent rock just offshore called sail rock, and the impressive cliffs of Grand Manan Island, which is part of Canada. I like to walk all around here, and not just around the lighthouse. 

Photo Tips: A wide-angle lens usually makes the most sense when you are underneath and very close to the lighthouse. The most obvious composition utilizes some wooden fence posts to the left of the lighthouse, which require you to walk through a field full of, no joke, porcupines. You can also get nice views from right around the light at sunrise. 

Best Times of Day: Sunrise or Sunset

Best Times of Year: Year-Round

Tides: Low to High

Access: Easy, but it takes a long drive for most of us to get here

Other Notes: There’s more to explore here. A fantastic walking path to the right of the lighthouse goes along the shore with views of and from very impressive cliffs. The forest here looks positively primeval and can be a great subject as well. 

Runners-Up (to be featured in another blog post): Bald Head Cliff, Biddeford Pool, Pine Point, Willard Beach, Spring Point Ledge Light, Giant Stairs, Popham Beach, Reid State Park, Southport, New Harbor, South Bristol, Friendship, Port Clyde, Camden Harbor, Vinalhaven, Stonington, Thunder Hole, Sand Beach, Cutler Coast, Lubec

I hope you’ve found this list useful. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. I offer tours and workshops to many of these locations, and I also have galleries with more images to inspire your visit. Please visit www.benjaminwilliamsonphotography.com to find out more. 

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Yellow Curtains - Chapter One

Lucas Lallemant happens upon several people online who appear to be living lives quite similar to his own-- maybe even the same. (Or, all the alternate Isaks find each other online when Even becomes famous)

Lucas first saw the picture on his Instagram explore page, at three in the morning when Eliott was with his parents. He should have been sleeping, he supposed, but over the previous week they’d spent together his body learned to gel with Eliott’s at night. He could only sleep with his arm draped over Eliott’s midsection. This problem should have been fixable; he tried to wrap his arm around a pillow, or a bundle of comforter, but the fabric didn’t feel as warm and didn’t have a chest that rose and fell with each rhythmic breath. It wasn’t the same.

Hence, a late-night/early-morning browsing session.

He followed a lot of actors, meaning his explore page feed usually filled with photos from upcoming movies and low-budget indie films from all over the world. Eliott loved that kind of thing. He could sit and watch foreign language dramas, unsubtitled, for hours and hours commenting on the use of color in each scene and the smoothness with which each actor spoke. Lucas had never been one for cinema he couldn’t understand. He appreciated the concepts, and English wasn’t so bad to hear, but it wasn’t his niche.

Really, the only reason he followed so many actors in the first place was to keep up with Eliott’s obsessive interest in obscure titles with equally obscure directors and plot lines. He didn’t know half of the people whose pictures he liked.

 Well, he knew a few. Xavier Dolan posted a new photo. Lucas liked it without much thought. He would always appreciate the man who inspired his and Eliott’s art of a reunion, even if he’d never stayed awake through the entirety of one of his movies.

“It’s in French!” Eliott had yelled at him. “No subtitles! It’s in French!”

“Not my thing,” he’d replied.

“Dubstep wasn’t your thing either, and look at you now.”

“I don’t actually like dubstep, I just love you.”

Xavier Dolan earned his like for the sake of that conversation alone. Lucas treasured when he had the opportunity to tell Eliott how much he loved him in some sappy way. He scrolled down past Xavier Dolan’s post and into a section of related ones, probably all from similar directors. 

In the midst of his browsing, he found his attention drawn to a photo of two blond boys, standing together in a location tagged as Oslo, Norway. Call it fate, call it intuition, but he knew for sure something was different about these two people.

He tapped the photo so it took up most of the screen. One of the boys wore a gray sweatshirt similar to the one Lucas himself had in his closet. The other sported a jean jacket with a small pansexual flag pin on the pocket. The latter boy’s posture reminded Lucas of someone, although he wasn’t quite sure just who. He oozed confidence. If you looked at his face though, he seemed quite shy and timid. Lucas scrolled downward to read the caption.

 isakyaki Congratulations to my wonderful boyfriend, Even Bech Næshiem, on directing his first full-length movie. I love you and cannot wait to see everything else you have to offer.

 Even. The name stirred something in Lucas. He looked at the picture again. Which of the two was Even? Was it the taller boy with the jean jacket or the smaller one in the sweatshirt? He felt like he’d seen them both before, if only in passing, and surprised himself by feeling a tinge of resentment towards the shorter. Maybe they fought sometime? There was that whole mess with Alex, Charles, and those boys a while ago. He clicked into his Instagram messages and shot one to Eliott.

 lucallemant: Do we know Even Bech Næshiem?

 Eliott took a millisecond to reply.

 srodulv: he’s a director

lucallemant: yeah, but do we know him

srodulv: no???

 Huh. Go figure. Lucas turned his focus away from the photo. He accessed his home feed.

Emma and Alex were together tonight (or rather, last night) judging by Emma’s Instagram story. From what he heard from the girls on Sunday, they decided to be a legitimate couple instead of just a wild fling. He wondered what Yann thought about this development. The guilt was definitely still there, from when he made deliberate plans to break Yann and Emma up, because if he hadn’t said anything to Camille about the kiss then they would still be together. He was friends with Alex, sure, but the guy cheated. He’d done it once, and he would again. Lucas didn’t want Emma getting herself hurt anymore.

Chloe posted something yesterday afternoon, too. She must have gone out with Yann to some coffee shop within walking distance. Another thing to feel guilty about. Even though he didn’t totally forgive Chloe for telling everyone she could about him and Eliott, he knew he’d really screwed her over by pretending to be in love with her for so long. Regret-central on Instagram tonight.

He couldn’t force himself to move through everyone else’s posts. He’d probably seen the rest, and if he hadn’t then he obviously didn’t care very much about the people involved.

Instead, he looked back at the picture of Even from earlier.

Logically, he knew he couldn’t know either boy. They both lived in Norway, and one was supposedly somewhat famous, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen them both before somewhere—and not just in a foreign language movie.

 lucallemant: did we know him at one point?

srodulv: no

lucallemant: are you sure?

srodulv: pretty sure. why?

lucallemant: he looks familiar

srodulv: there are a lot of people on earth

srodulv: maybe you’re confusing him for somebody else

lucallemant: who would I be confusing him for?

srodulv: I don’t know

 Lucas looked into the poster’s profile. Okay, so the shorter boy in the photo was Isak. Even was the taller, then, the one with the crazy hair and the sweet smile. The familiar one. He scrolled through Isak’s photos of the two of them together, noting at one point a girl who looked a lot like Emma. Something fishy was happening here. He’d never seen these people before, and yet it was as if he had seen them every day for his entire life.

 srodulv: Could be the dynamic

lucallemant: what do you mean?

srodulv: they have our dynamic lol

srodulv: the artist and the grumpy one

srodulv:  ❤️ ❤️

lucallemant: haha

 Lucas turned off his phone and sat back against his headboard. Eliott had a point. He could recognize Even because he seemed similar to Eliott in interest and posture-- that’s what it was. His phone buzzed.

 srodulv: here, you can really see it here

 Eliott attached a YouTube link for something. An interview.

Lucas tapped to pull up the interview on YouTube and clicked on the subtitles. If he was to put them in French, they would be auto-generated. Auto-generated subtitles were never trustworthy, so he’d just have to watch the interview with English ones and fumble through the gist of what each person said.

“Where did the two of you meet?” asked the interviewer.

Isak laughed and turned to Even. “Do you want to tell him?”

“Kosegruppa,” said Even. “Thank you, Vilde.”

“And how did you get the chance to talk with him?”

Again, both Even and Isak shared a glance and a giggle.

“He took all the paper towels,” said Isak. “All of them. Then he asked if I needed one, handed me one from the trash, and invited me outside to smoke a joint with him.”

Lucas paused the video. He met Eliott at a group meeting, didn’t he? He first saw Eliott sitting in the back and they made eye contact for a beautiful moment. Afterward, when they met at the bus stop, Eliott took all the candy bars and offered to smoke a joint with him. That was… similar, to say the least. He made a mental note to Google kosegruppa later. He pressed play.

“And you found that charming?” the interviewer prodded.

Isak threw an arm over Even’s shoulders and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Of course I did. I was in love with him from the moment we locked eyes. I would have kissed him right there if it wasn’t for Emma.”

The interviewer leaned inward, closer to the two boys. “Who is Emma?”

“Emma is my ex-girlfriend.” When the interviewer looked concerned, he clarified, “It’s okay, we’re on good terms now.  Everything’s smoothed over. She sat down right next to us and started—”

“—sharing the joint!” Even finished. “It was so awkward! I couldn’t make her leave. But I guess things worked out in the end so… sorry, Emma!”

Again, Lucas paused the video. When he and Eliott were at the bus stop, the exact same thing happened with Chloe. The exact same thing. When he looked at Even’s easygoing expression again, he realized he’d seen the same one on his own boyfriend’s face dozens of times. This was starting to get a little creepy.

He closed the app before he could watch the rest, and sent another message.

 lucallemant: did you watch that interview?

srodulv: yeah

lucallemant: with subtitles?

srodulv: they didn’t have French

lucallemant: watch it

srodulv: it’s three

lucallemant: you’re not sleeping

srodulv: how do you know

lucallemant: you’re answering me

srodulv: maybe I am answering you in my sleep

lucallemant: they met the same as us. Watch the interview, please

srodulv: I can’t, I’m asleep

 If Lucas didn’t love Eliott so much, he could have strangled him.

He reopened the Instagram app to explore Isak’s profile once more. He could distinguish the main characters in Isak’s life from the posts: Even, three other boys, and the girl who reminded him of Emma. Maybe she was Emma, the Emma Isak referred to in the video interview. This was all too bizarre. He also was a part of a four-friend crew, had a tag-along in Chloe for a while, and had a first-and-only kind of boyfriend. Lives don’t get much more similar than that.

He figured he might as well send a message, ask about it. Isak probably wouldn’t even see it in his inbox, since he dated a film director and their relationship seemed to be quite popular. He would not even notice the new message on top of all the others.

Lucas typed the words into the box and hit send before he could convince himself to do otherwise.

 lucallemant: Hello, I saw your interview and it was kind of crazy. You met Even the same way I met my boyfriend, complete with an annoying intervention. If I may ask, did you ditch a double date to have your first kiss?

[tanyaryanmusic]

To All the Buttholes I’ve Loved Before.

I’m so glad I had the opportunity to date so many buttholes. 

Buttholes are such an important part of the self-development process. They highlight all the areas in that we lack. If you have trouble drawing boundaries - no problem! A butthole will come a take advantage of you until you figure it out. 

You struggle with being a constant people-pleaser? You will eventually come across the forever un-pleaseable butthole. 

Doesn’t matter what the goal of your personal journey into self discovery; overcoming your issues with confrontation, temper, drama, perfectionism, your value and/or self worth. There’s a butthole for that. 

Of course I didn’t always see it this way. I went through a stretch of disliking, and in some cases, loathing these people for a period of time. I would relive and replay all the ways they had wronged me, hurt me or taken advantage of me. Then that got kind of boring so I decided to reflect on their impact. I was able to take away valuable and insightful lessons that helped me to understand myself and the world a little bit better. And even if in most cases I learned maybe a little too late, I still learned. 

I’m not sure who coined the term serial monogamist, but I think that would describe my dating habits as well as any. I have dated enough to fully emerge myself in the experiences of various nuances of men on the butthole spectrum: 

There was the one that was so sweet and sensitive but turned out that his ‘sensitivity’ was actually a stealthy form of manipulation, and for bonus points, he was also a low-key misogynist racist. NBD. Then there was the passive aggressive who wanted time, love and attention but could not request this directly so he used the silent treatment to get his way and to avoid conversations he didn’t want to have. Then the ‘I-can’t-live-without-you, you’re-my-whole-world’ one that slowly got me to do everything for him because he needed me and I was ‘always so much better at it’ than he was. That was actually super clever. Well done. 

And then there was that one guy that when we broke up he called my home phone number 28 times in the middle of the night. And my cell phone 16 times. (No exaggeration here people. I’ve never seen anything like it.) And he left voicemails and texts that rom-coms base their desperate post-breakup characters off of - calling the first time just sad… the second one was more desperate. Then it was fiercely angry with horrendous name-calling. Then apologetic. Then sad again. And so on. I am absolutely one to indulge in the occasional hyperbole, but this was legit what happened. I suspect there are some deeper issues there. 

Anyway. If you get the chance to reflect on these experiences in an objective manner, you get to pull out all the skillsets that they left you with. In many of my own experiences it came down to me learning to honour my value, draw boundaries, and have more self-respect. 

If you get really keen on being objective, reflective and learning; you can also take away how you, yourself were a butthole. I am fully aware of the level 10 butthole I have been in certain circumstances (none of which will be listed today, because I know you think I’m perfect and I would hate to disillusion you). I also see the miscommunications that happened, and how things sort of got muttled, and therefore people got hurt unnecessarily. But hey, we’re all a little tougher now with a better sense of humour. Right? Or perhaps, the less desirable outcome, in which we’re all a little more jaded with a bitter sense of humour. Either way.

Each of the experiences with these buttholes (and my being the occasional butthole) really helped me to identify the man I chose to marry. They created this metaphorical checklist that I was able to go through. 

Oh, you do that thing where you twist everything up and have no responsibility for anything? … nah. No thanks. 

Ah yes, I am familiar with this technique. This is the avoid-it-until-she-gives-up technique. Nope. Next!

Hm, I am noticing how defensive and mean I get around you. I don’t like this version of me. Peace mofo, I’m out.   

As awful as it sounds, there was a period of time when I was dating the man that became my husband that I was practically waiting for him to do something ignorant. But he just never really did… Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he’s perfect. It’s more that he’s accountable. He has his moments, and he’s the first to tell me he’s sorry, or that it’s not my fault or that he just needs a bit of time to figure something out. If he’s been a bit insensitive or I have felt hurt, I tell him. He listens to me and he always apologizes. (And he doesn’t say dumb stuff like: “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Or “Calm down it was only two fries!”)

My husband respects the shit out of me. It kills me that his mother has passed away because I always want to thank her for whatever she did to make him the man he is today (I do regularly thank his dad), and I want to take notes so I can one day raise a human to be so considerate and kind. 

He cherishes me. He makes me feel important to him. I feel valued, trusted and loved. 

I once told him about my insanely unreasonable fear of getting locked out of the house. That day (THAT DAY) he went to Home Depot and changed the deadbolt out for a mechanical deadbolt so I didn’t have to worry about losing my key. I didn’t ask him to do that, he just did. ‘Cause he’s awesome. 

He always cleans the kitchen if I cook. And often will help me clean the kitchen if he’s cooked. He does the laundry, he plans dates, and buys my favourite snacks when I’m PMS-y.  He also buys me flowers every time he comes home from a long stint at work. 

But most importantly, I can be all the weirdest versions of myself. He supports me with my experimenting, pushing boundaries and trying new  things. I am allowed to feel all my feelings, and I feel truly safe knowing that he’s not threatened by my experiencing emotions. My favourite part of our relationship is that neither of us holds the other one to blame when we are sad, upset or hurt. Even if it was their doing… we don’t say “You hurt me” … it’s “I’m hurt.” 

I know that we’ve only been together for a short time but this isn’t the first time I’ve been in a relationship for 2 years, and this one is different. At this point in previous relationships I am usually acutely aware of things that are making me feel stifled and uncomfortable, and simultaneously naively optimistic that all that garbage will get sorted out - and then it doesn’t, and maybe it lasts a few months more until it inevitably comes to a strained end. I’m just really grateful to be this far in and there’s no garbage. There’s effort, communication, and the occasional disagreement. But it’s pretty mellow. And I love that.

There’s a Buddhist quote that discusses finding your person, I’m going to paraphrase it because I can’t remember it and Google was NO help. It says something along the lines of: when you meet your life-partner it won’t be all sweaty palms, heart pounding and fireworks, instead, it will be this noticeable sense of calm. AKA it won’t be this dramatic hot/cold soap opera. I think we base our expectations of love on movies, TV and storybooks - which is a distorted adaptation of reality. It’s not to say you won’t get butterflies or nervous - sometimes I still do with Brin! But mostly he makes me feel ease. And it was like that from day one. Easy.

There are many people with a long dating history of failed relationships that will tell you there aren’t many good ones left. They’re the first to tell me that I really lucked out with how awesome Brinley is. Don’t worry all, I am well aware that my husband is straight-up the tits. But I want to get across something I feel is very important. I truly feel that I was able to identify my husband as someone to spend my life with because I reflected and learned from my past relationships. I was willing to look myself in the face and acknowledge where I needed to adjust and shift for my own personal growth; and I was able to very distinctly know what I wanted in the human being that would become my life-partner. I became so clear on this that I had decided I would rather be alone and happy by myself, than to settle for a relationship that only filled me up part way. 

Before I met Brinley I made a list. A list of qualities and traits that were all inspired by the previous relationships that I had experienced. It was a pretty detailed list. When I completed my list, I read through it, and my first thought was: “Wow. If this person exists. He’s a pretty remarkable person.” It made me reflect. If I find this incredible person, then I ought to be the most incredible version of myself that I can be. I ought to be willing to return these same qualities. It’s not terribly fair to ask someone for this level of investment if you’re not willing to come to the table with similar value. So I started doing my best to develop in my own areas, asking myself harder questions: Are you ready for your person? Truly. The person that you know you want. The one that is going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Are you taking care of yourself? Are you comfortable being all of yourself? Are you responsible with your money? Are you brave enough to own your feelings and your mistakes? Are you able to stand up for yourself?  All of this inquiry gave me the motivation to invest in myself. To hold myself accountable to rise and expand on who I am. To acknowledge my value and observe my deficits with kindness and patience. 

So thank you, Buttholes. You were the reasons I was able to make that list. The reasons I knew exactly what I appreciated in a long-term relationship and the reasons I knew exactly what I didn’t need. You helped motivate me to step back and evaluate myself and acknowledge my various strengths and the I’m-working-on-them parts. You helped me to understand and appreciate what a truly incredible person Brinley is. Without the contrasting experiences of your Butthole-ism I may never have been able to fully appreciate the gift that my husband is. 

Thanks Buttholes. I only hope I was able to do the same for you. 

[mirika]

It’s been one of those weekends; I have been to Amsterdam Comic Con again.

Because my hair is still blue I went as Ladybug this whole weekend (Miraculous Ladybug). I figured that rocking Mimi’s pink dress with blue hair would be a bit odd, so there’s that. Perhaps I should get into wigs after all. Oh well!

Day one!

Saturday I went with two of my friends. I ended up spending more money on food than merchandise, but I kept a low budget for this con anyway as I am usually less amazed with the Comic Con events in Rotterdam and Amsterdam. I’ve had some delicious melon & lychee bubble tea though!

We strolled the event and as usual I took some photos with cosplay. I actually found a really tall dude dressing up as Spider-man in the homemade suit!

Oh yeah, also new: I have bangs now. Either way, he was the first one I wanted to take a photo with, and I took a photo with one other person on Saturday, namely a Chat Noir cosplay. As Ladybug I could never skip over those!

She was very kind actually, and apparently we were searching for each other. We had a Popeye cosplay keep telling me that a Chat Noir was looking for me, so I went on the lookout as well. It really did take a little while.

Cropping out my feet in every photo because I was not wearing the right shoes.

Other than that I visited the Q&A of Aimee Garcia. She plays Ella in Lucifer, which is my favourite female character in that show. She has shared some interesting information, and some emotional information. She was excited about her requests for next season though (I recall she wanted to dance next season and apparently make out with someone; didn’t matter if it were a male or female). I took multiple photos but my phone of course only saved one.

Worst of all is that in the one photo my phone managed to save, she has her eyes closed. Oh well, what matters is that I know I’ve seen her!

I’ve also seen some Game of Thrones actors, but I did not visit their Q&A. I am sure the actor of Joffrey is nice and all, but he wears the face of a brat. Poor dude. What was fun was seeing him randomly roam around on what we call a ‘step’ (google translate says it’s a scooter but it’s not electronical nor requires oil/gas so that’s kinda weird).

The saddest part was that I was afraid I was going to leave without any merchandise at all, but then I met this lovely lass who had several magnets and offered commissions; I commissioned her and could pick it up the next day. These were the magnets:

I’m not into actually owning Pokemon merchandise, but this Vulpix was too cute (I love foxes anyway). Those who know me should not be surprised I also went for a Spidey.

They were made by rizzlemonster, you can find her on Instagram! I’ve chatted her ears off already, haha. Oh, when I approached her stand there was actually a guy flirting with her and I thought it was just a super random guy that told her that if he’d roll a D20 high enough they’d go for a drink, but the next day she cleared up they had seen each other more often already. It was amusing though, and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. I guess those are some life goals, having someone roll a D20 to see if they can grab a drink with you, haha.

That sums up the first day I think. At the Tardis I saw a couple of 13th Doctor cosplay but I was too anxious to approach them, which I fixed the next day anyway.

Oh gosh, no, I remember I pissed some people off even though I meant to joke. There was a stand with Overwatch buttons and I turned to my friend joking about how there was no Lucio and calling it Lucio-erasure, but I really meant it as a joke and not to offend them. My friends told me they seemed rather annoyed when I said it and now I feel bad I’ve hurt their feelings, but have no way of apologising to them. It still bothers me.

To end on a good note, I did have a fair amount of people tell me they liked my outfit and that made me feel rather happy! The way some people asked if it was ‘my version of Ladybug’ gave me the idea to start seeing it apart from Marinette and more of a separate incarnation of Ladybug overall (if you know the lore it makes sense). I’m probably going to make this into an OC.

Day two!

Sunday I went with another friend of mine whom I mostly know from con visiting, ha.

Before I found him at the con I wandered past a Captain Hook (Once Upon A Time) cosplay. I let him walk past me at first. I started to think and consider if I wanted to take a photo, and ran back to him and his group of friends to get one anyway. I must say I am rather glad I did!

So that was a great start of the day! But maybe I should not awkwardly run after people and call them by their cosplay name, haha. His friends noticed sooner than he did himself.

I also found several more homemade suit Spider-man cosplays, which was great! But the downside was that seeing how common that particular cosplay was, I got demotivated to get it myself (this was the cosplay I had planned next time but did not want to tell anyone yet; I just feel so demotivated to continue now I might as well reveal it). Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing so many!!! I am just not sure if I want to myself anymore. They did say that they also struggled with finding the right colour hoodies etcetera, and one told me how he did the hat part.

At this point my friend (who took the photos) noticed I like Spider-man, haha. The one in the first pic showed me how he did the hat part, so if I do want to continue doing this cosplay, I can probably do it. I do already own a red ski mask, after all, and I do like the idea of a fully anonymous cosplay.

I also took a photo with a Chat Noir I’ve had a photo with before (I noticed this as I scrolled over my most recent DCC post), but hey, I don’t mind taking multiple pics with one person. My hair is different this time, which is a good excuse.

She told me there was a child dressed up as Ladybug somewhere, but I believe the both of us never found her. Too bad.

Lastly, there’s the big reveal of the 13th Doctor’s new companion!

Sorry, that’s the lame joke I told my friend at least. It was just perfect as we were at the Tardis. She said she had yet to werk on doing poses and all I could tell her was ‘same’ as I suck at poses as well. 

I also picked up the commission from rizzlemonster, but because it is not scanned I am not uploading it here (maybe at a later time). A photo of it did not do it justice.

Instead, here’s a pic of a child who was hardcore into a video game, and because of what they were wearing it looked absolutely hilarious and I had a freaking blast just looking at them (I asked their dad for permission of the photo).

I sincerely hope they have no idea what they’re wearing, haha. I just walked past this and saw a kid dressed up as It staring intensely at a video game mashing some buttons. What an inspiration. This was definitely a highlight.

I also tried out mead and decided I did not like it overall, though the blueberry taste is alright (I tried regular, melon and blueberry). All my friends are rather fond of mead and my friend wanted me to try it, so he was satisfied I did find a flavour I can get into.

I do think my weekend is summarized now, and I’m gonna get to gaming right away. I think that, because of the commission and all the food I had, I did spend as much as I usually do at Comic Con events anyway, except I came home with only two magnets. Oh well! I had a fun weekend regardless.

ACC 2018 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) DCC 2018 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) RCC 2018 - Mimi (Digimon) WDCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon) ACC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon) DCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon) RCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon) ACC 2016 - Hook (Once Upon A Time) DCC 2016 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) DCC 2015 - Sunday - Hobbit (Lord of the Rings) DCC 2015 - Saturday - Ellie (The Last of Us)

I have been to Elfia in 2015, but I cannot find this post. I was Donna Noble and I actually had a really bad day, which is why I have never returned to Elfia.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Deal

Bonjour, mes chers! I was cleaning up some files and it seems I never uploaded this drabble? It's possible I have it uploaded somewhere and just can't find it, so enjoy it again if that's the case! 

Title: Deal

Alternate Universe: None / Post Canon (Age of Twins ~ 16/17)

Rating: T (for mentions of blood and temporary major character death)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical trauma, and temporary major character death

Inspired By: I have no idea, I just found it in my google drive when cleaning

Summary: Dipper should know better than to ever make deals with a demon such as him. Still, family is always more important, isn’t it?

Read here on FFN Read here on AO3

Don’t forget I’m doing more cool things on my Patreon all the time! I also have a Ko-Fi so consider buying me a coffee if you can’t pledge!

::

“Well, well, well, isn’t this an interesting thing for me to wake up to!” The boisterous voice grated on the ears and echoed throughout the now silent woods, Dipper’s vision fuzzy as black and white swirled at the edges of his world and- God, what had they done. “Oh, oh, is it my birthday? I feel like it’s my birthday with a gift like this!”

Body twitching on the dry, dead grass, Dipper dug his fingers into the lifeless earth as he looked up at hearing a soft whimper. Mabel was staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, entire body shaking. Autumn leaves were threaded through her hair and dirt mixed with blood streaked her cheeks. He wasn’t sure which one coughed on the blood in their throats first, but he knew that soon the both of them were gasping for air.

“I said to not let them touch it!” The voice that yelled had Dipper covering his ears and no… No, he had heard enough of that voice to last a lifetime. No more. Please- Please. Hadn’t he paid enough for his mistakes? Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“Oh, so it was just an accident. How disappointing- Ooh, but that means you didn’t wake me- Hah! It wasn’t you lot! It was them who did it! Oh, how beautiful.” Dipper couldn’t help but wonder what was worse - running from hell or running straight into its arms.

“Enough. Let’s finish this now. They know too much. Besides, that is weakened. It won’t take much to put it down for good.” Reality around them rippled and shifted and twisted and idiots. Idiots. It had taken the sacrifice of everything to defeat him last time. They really thought he was weak?

“Now, now, didn’t your mother ever teach you to not be rude.” Jerking backwards as blue fire seared its way into the earth, Dipper shrieked at the pain that wracked his body. It hurt- It hurt. The fire, though… When that brushed him, it didn’t hurt. He knew what that meant.

“Di-pper.” God, Mabel sounded as wrecked as he felt. It was all he could do to grasp her hand when she crawled close enough, the two linking their fingers together and holding on tightly. No matter what happened next… Well. At least they would die together, right?

“Oh, how sweet.” Children. They were such children. Had they really thought they could survive this? Had they really thought this was the best idea to beat such a dangerous enemy? It was so- It was- Children. “You thought I was bad, huh? Didn’t even think that there’s more dangers in this world than me. You should be careful of crows, you know. They tend to gather around dead bodies.”

“Release them, demon! The Sect of the Crow stands with God to spread His light and message! You shall not poison the world with your sin!”

“Ugh, disgusting as I remember.” The fire flickered over his skin, Dipper focusing - or at least trying his best to - and staring at the circle that was burned into the dead ground. Circle. Oh… “You made a very dangerous enemy, you two. Honestly, you’re always getting into such trouble!”

The circle wrapped around him and Mabel tightly, Dipper’s gaze slipping and sliding more towards that hazy world of black and white. A scream stuck itself in his throat as his head was jerked up by fingers under his chin, Dipper feeling heat and power as a gloved hand held him in place- Gloved. Human. A human gloved hand.

“What are you doing, demon! Get away from them! Quickly- Quickly! Kill them before it regains power!” Power… Ah, that was right. They had been running- Leading. They had been leading them all and- It was cold.

“You humans are always so fragile.” It hurt. Everything hurt - everything except that quiet voice, words near hummed out instead of spoken. The words were low, and smooth, and nothing like the high-pitched, wild glee from before. “Get in over your head, Pine Tree?”

The blue fires blazed around him and his sister, Dipper prying his eyes open (when had he closed them?) and looking into eyes of molten gold. Eyes. Eyes. “Oh, Pine Tree.” Gold and black and retribution. “Look at you. All grown up.”

Mabel’s weak groan captured his attention for only a moment, the hand on his chin keeping him from moving. He was almost grateful for it. Almost. Almost. So many almosts. He had almost been fast enough. He had almost been smart enough. He had almost been strong enough. He had almost managed to beat them. He had almost managed to save them. Almost, almost, almost.

There was blood on his hands. His head was given a rough shake, Dipper’s gaze skittering back to that molten, bubbling gold, attention utterly and completely captured. All he felt was the leather glove against his skin and the fading warmth of his sister’s hand. “Oh, it seems she’s dying too, now. Tell me, Pine Tree, how much family did your mistakes cost you?”

He thought he was so smart. Now look. Blood. So much blood. Ah, everything was quiet. Maybe that’s why he had this sense of standing on the edge. No- Yeah. Yeah, that was it. It was standing on the edge of a cliff so high up you couldn’t even see the ground and it was just one small step-

“Mason Pines.” The only breathing he could hear was his. The sound of screaming and gunfire was so far away, but the only breathing he could hear was his. Only his. Mabel… “Ssh, it’s alright. I can fix everything. I can fix all of it. You know I can. You know my power.”

Pine Tree. Only one person had ever… Right. They had escaped where they had been keeping them and they had lead them all into the woods that they knew so well and they had a plan. They failed. Blood and fear and human skin had touched the stone. Ah, the hand in his was limp. Cold. Empty. Lifeless.

An intake of air had Dipper coughing, vision swimming before he felt warm human skin instead of a leather glove- Human. “What do I want? Isn’t it obvious? I can fix it, but I want my freedom.” No. No. His family in exchange for the entire world? He could never- Mabel. Mabel. “It may not be worth them, but isn’t it worth your world?” Cold. Cold and lifeless. “Mason Sherman Pines.”

Don’t trust him. Don’t let him in your head. Don’t listen to him. Don’t make the same mistakes. Turn away. Turn away, turn away, turn away quick before he catches you- Save them? “Every single one of them.” The gunshots grew closer and the screaming grew louder. “You know what I want.”

Ah, well. In that case, it wasn’t a competition at all, was it? It never was. Okay. Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

Mabel’s hand fell out of his and another took its place. Warm (burning), hard (painful), and tight (greedy). “You know what to say, don’t you? Well?”

Bill Cipher.

The word was torn out of him with a single, last breath.

“Deal.”

I give you everything.

::

“-ipper. Dipper! Wake up, sleepy head!” Jerking awake with a gasp of air, Dipper clutched at his side where the knife had been stabbed into him far too deep- And… Skin. Nothing but smooth skin that was only broken up by the appendix scar he had since he was nine. Which was impossible - completely impossible. He had just been bleeding out in the woods and dying and oh, god he had said- “Dipper?”

“Okay- I’m okay. I guess I had a nightmare.” Dipper shook under the hand his sister placed against his forehead, looking frantically around the bus. They were on a bus? When had they… It was rumbling along, though, the sight of trees passing them by and the highway bumpy under the wheels. There were only three other people, one on his phone, another asleep against the window, and one hiding obvious animal ears under a hat. “We’re… We’re on a bus.”

“Well, yeah. C’mon, bro-bro, we’re going to visit the Grunkles. Re- Remember?” Mabel looked at him with eyes full of worry, Dipper only giving a shaky nod in response. “It’s June fifteenth.” Right. The start of summer. They were going to Gravity Falls. “Maybe you should try to get some more sleep until we get there.”

“Yeah- Yeah, sorry, Mabel. I just had a really bad nightmare, I guess.” Settling back and closing his eyes, Dipper pulled his hat down low enough to block out the sun, sighing as the world began to darken. Nightmare. It was just a nightmare, he told himself. Only that.

Then his world was filled with black and white and a loud, bright laugh that shook the very foundation of reality.

“Well, well, well. Didn’t that ‘Grunkle’ of yours ever teach you not to make a deal with a demon, Pine Tree?”

[buttersbots]

@emme2589 tagged me to do this whole thing?? If anyone wants to know far too much about my writing process, check out under the cut for 54 questions and answers!

1. Favorite place to write.      I can’t really say that I have one. The urge to write strikes me at odd times and in odd places. I’ve noticed I really like to write when I should be doing something else instead, or in places I rather shouldn’t be writing. Maybe my muse likes to walk on the edge? 2. Favorite part of writing.      When the characters write themselves! I’ll sit down with just an idea most of the time and the characters take care of the rest. If I have writer’s block, it’s probably because I’m trying to do something out of character, but I’m too reluctant to redo whatever’s bothering me. 3. Least favorite part of writing.      Random lack of motivation and coming up with titles. 4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?      I always have to be listening to something. Usually music, oftentimes TV (when I’m feeling relaxed and not in any rush, I like picking away at a story sentence by sentence while I’m distracted. Which is all the time).  5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.      I’m really struck by Tolkien's writing style and try to emulate his imagery sometimes. Nothing has ever really captured me the way that does. Other than that, I guess my writing is inspired in part by everything I’ve ever read? 6. Favorite character you ever created.      Fletcher (surprise). My son. My hopes and dreams. 7. Favorite author.      Too hard... but I like @stormkeeper12 a lot. She’s my favorite person on this planet and a naturally gifted writer. 8. Favorite trope to write.      Ex-con adjusts to a normal, domestic life while moving past their traumas and unlearning toxic behaviors with the help of their loved ones, eventually learning to love life and feeling fulfilled in ways they never knew possible. 9. Least favorite trope to write.      Why would I write a trope I don’t like? 10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.      @emme2589 WE’D WRITE ABOUT ROBOTS AND IT’D BE SICK AS HELL 11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.      It depends. If it’s just a ficlet, I’ll just write it out once I’ve had the idea usually over the course of a day or two, then go back and tweak things so it flows and there are no grammar/syntax/punctuation errors. If it’s a longer story, I’ll start it from some point and fill out the rest sporadically. Sometimes I’ll make outlines, sometimes my muse will slap me with a random scene and I’ll write it out and fill in the context of the story later. I rewrite constantly. 12. How do you deal with self-doubts?      I write as a coping mechanism. My writing improves the more I do it, so when I’m down in the dumps and need to get it out, my characters give me all the catharsis I need while simultaneously becoming more alive. 13. How do you deal with writers block?      I don’t. If I have writer’s block, I’m not going to get anything done, so I do something else. 14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?      I don’t write books, but I think the most unneeded research I’ve ever put into something was at the beginning of Charming, and it was about tulips. I wanted Two’s gardening to be realistic since she knows everything there is to know about plant care, so I researched when you’re supposed to plant tulip bulbs, how to best tend to them so that they grow well, and learned a hell of a lot considering I’ve hardly gardened a day in my almost 20 years of existence. I think I only ended up mentioning that she was removing debris from the soil in the background. 15. Where does your inspiration come from?      That’s what I’d like to know! Why can’t I just be inspired by something popular that would get me regular feedback? Why did I have to fall for a speck of a crossover rarepair? Why do Nos and Two make me feel like I’m alive when nothing else will? 16. Where do you take your motivation from?      My own feelings. If an idea doesn’t make me feel things, I won’t write it. As a result, almost everything is comforting and low-energy or something light, quick, and comedic. 17. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?     It wouldn’t really be fair to take an average when I’ll write nothing for days, write a couple paragraphs every other week when I should be doing homework, and then sit down and write seven pages straight every blue moon. 18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?      I’ll comb through the entire story and tweak every word I don’t like until one day I’ve improved so much that I start tweaking at one point and end up rewriting the whole thing from scratch. (Example: Alloy [NSFW]). 19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.       When the doorbell rang, Fletcher was already at the front door, waiting to pull it open. Evening had just fallen. The porch light flickered, and it must have made him look even more frantic than he felt ‒ the two women standing on the porch practically jumped back at the sight of him.      [Fletcher Calls a Council] 20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.      With his sensors dulled to ignore the rest of the hospital, Nos-4-a2 felt like the entire universe was limited to his immediate surroundings. In front of him sat the long, low nanotherapy chamber, its contents swirling silver under the artificial light, unchanging over the passing hours. Across from that sat the heavy door, muffling the sound of people moving through the halls. Behind him, the curtains covered the world outside, blocking the progress of the storm. Even his thoughts seemed to come to a grinding halt, numb with waiting, tired of imagining every possible scenario.      The day had completely wasted away before the outside world came crashing in.      A quiet knock was his only warning before a star-struck Morgan opened the door. “You have some visitors!”      [Vampirism Chapter 6] 21. Post the last sentence(s sorry I have no self control) you wrote in one of your WIPs.      We hurt him. It was the only thought in her mind. He might not trust them any more. He might hate them. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew the only way to make anything right would be to explain.      “Fletcher... I’m coming up,” Two murmured. She unbuckled her cape and folded it, placing it on top of the low stone wall surrounding the tree. The white probe then proceeded to find her way through the mesh of bark and leaves until she was wedged in a niche of branches directly across from her son. He’d shifted his head so that he wasn’t looking at her.      “...Please, honey, talk to me,” Two whispered.      Fletcher blinked, his eyeforms narrowing. He waited, not knowing what to say or how to feel. His voice broke when he finally asked, “Did Dad ever kill anyone?”      [Family Secrets] 22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?      I don’t keep drafts. I just work on something until I feel like the plot and language are sound enough for me to put it online. 23. Single or multi POV, and why?      I only ever write a story out of one point of view any more, and it’s almost exclusively third person, usually limited. Sometimes omniscient, but most of the time I’ll just switch limited from one character from another after a break in the story. Third person comes most naturally to me after all my studying because almost all of the reading we did was in third person. 24. Poetry or prose, and why?      Prose, because it’s the best way I know how to evoke a clear emotion. Prose is often more beautiful and meaningful to me than poetry. 25. Linear or non-linear, and why?      HAHAHAHAHA! Non-linear because I don’t have the discipline or desire to write in order. 26. Standalone or series, and why?      I think... both...? Somehow...? I write mostly ficlets and one-shots that don’t need a lot of context, but they have much more meaning if you’re familiar with the continuity that I write for, so...? 27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?      @erick-achan and @emme2589 both have access to the hundreds of WIPs in my Google Drive. If I got to know anyone else who was interested, I’d give them the same thing. I’m so thirsty for feedback and gushing about/expanding on ideas, I can’t wait to be finished! 28. And who do you share them with?      Trusted creatives/anyone who shows the slightest bit of maybe thinking that they might want to look into Nos and Two. 29. Who do you write for?      Myself. 30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.      HOW COULD YOU ASK THIS? I don’t know! Oh GOD I’d have to read through everything and pick just one, it would take me ages, ‘cause what if I forgot about something and found it later? It would haunt me. 31. Hardest character to write.      Not sure. I don’t really want to spend energy on characters that don’t come naturally to me. 32. Easiest character to write.      Two. 33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?      This is my go-to playlist. 34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?      Typed. I type everything. Sometimes I’ll hand write, but that’s only if I’m in a very particular mood or don’t have my computer with me. 35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________.      Well, this was obviously meant to be asked a single question at a time, so if you’d like to know more about the backstory of one of my characters, send me an ask! 36. A spoiler for story _________.      You can send me an ask for this as well, though there’s really nothing for me to spoil. I have a detailed timeline and write out of order. If you’re reading my stories, it’s probably for the interactions/journey. 37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.      This doesn’t count as just a quote, but basically anything about Father Zosima’s philosophy in Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. We had to read it in AP Lit, and it was a drag, but Father Zosima’s teachings helped me get through a seriously dark time when nothing else could. I don’t subscribe to his religion as much as the message. You can kinda see what he’s all about in his shmoop article, but it doesn’t do justice to the depth of Zosima’s life story. It’s really the basis of how I try to live my life every day, and now that my sister’s reading TBK in AP Lit, I’m thinking about going back and looking over the Zosima parts again. 38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it?      Send me an ask~ 39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.      I draw inspiration from everything, I think. There isn’t anyone who’s solely based on someone I know in real life or who I designed to be like anyone I’ve met. I guess Two’s boss at work is kinda like my managers, but I wrote her before I got my job, so that’s just coincidence. 40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?      Fanfiction, because I have no feelings for anything I’ve created on my own that didn’t stem from someone else’s intellectual property. I guess the closest I’ve come to original fiction is when I write a Fletcher-centric story that only involves other characters of my own design, which I guess are becoming more frequent. 41. How many stories do you work on at one time?      *choking back tears* I have open WIPs that date back to 2013 and I’ve only gotten more prolific since then. (I just counted 98 in my “fanfiction shorts” folder alone, so that’s not including ideas for ficlets or multi-chaptered stories that I have underway. Admittedly, many have been scrapped or set aside, but I never delete anything in case I can reuse some of the material.) 42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.      I don’t design too many characters. Since most of the characters I make are children of other established characters, I just try to balance design elements. Otherwise I do my best to mix in diverse races, genders, and species. 43. Are you an avid reader?      Not nearly as much as I’d like to be. Most of my creative consumption in the past few years has been of video games, and more recently, D&D. 44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.      There are so many good ones that come to mind that make me feel warm from the depths of my soul. The comments that I got on Alloy on deviantART made me feel so validated, I lived off that energy for a month! There are also more general pieces of feedback such as someone (*cough* @emme2589 *cough*) writing a big multi-chaptered fic and l i s t i n g  m e  a s  i n s p i r a t i o n. My mortal soul transcended this plane of existence that day. That really goes for anyone who shows any affectation from my writing, though, no matter the medium. Two of my best friends on the planet I only got to know because of our shared interest in Energy Vampires. 45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.      The only bad feedback is a lack of feedback. (Maybe I only say that because nobody’s given me negative feedback before, but that’s just because not enough people care about Nos and Two, and I’m a Thirsty Bitch.) 46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie?      LISTEN. If ANYTHING I wrote were to be adapted to moving visual media, it would be 2D cartoon animation, and it would kill me instantly. 47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?      ...Both? I don’t have a clear answer for this one. 48. Favorite genre to write in.      I’m sorry, but I was raised on FanFiction.net, so I counting “fluff” as a genre is literally a part of my being. My favorite is fluff. 49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?      Depends on the story. 50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.      I can’t talk about it in polite company. 51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.      Send me an axe. Ask. Axske. 52. How did writing change you?      Writing didn’t change me, my writing changes as I do. I started writing for Wall.E as soon as I could. I was 10 at the time, and I pretty much consider that the beginning of my life. Everything before that was just vague, formative details leading up to me seeing Wall.E and discovering my one true love. 53. What does writing mean to you?      It’s my found family, fictional and non-fictional. 54. Any writing advice you want to share?      Just don’t stop. You can’t help but get better if you just don’t stop. Don’t be discouraged, but don’t stagnate: learn what you struggle with and do better. When you find a writing style you really admire, don’t feel like you’ll never live up to it, just try to reach that level in small ways. Before you know it, you’ll have found your own way and people will be looking up to you, which is scary in its own right. Also, read Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. This is the handiest book any writer who’s into the minutia of grammar and syntax could ever need.

[shortend]

Comic Script Prompt: Overwatch Support Clinic

Good afternoon, Ladies and Gents. Usually I write little scripts for fan comics as a morning writing warm-up with no intention of ever getting them illustrated. I wanted to try something a little new and different today. The following is a ten page script I wrote based on Overwatch, which as you may know is a very fun online first-person-shooter with oodles of plot that for some reason is rarely if ever conveyed in the actual game itself (like Final Fantasy XV, but with gorillas.) If by some miracle some daring illustrator is willing to take up the challenge (which would imply that they found this post buried somewhere) they are more than welcome to follow along and use this script or any portion thereof in their own artistic endeavors free of charge provided that they credit me as the writer for my contribution, as is only fair. (EDIT: I wouldn’t mind being tagged or sent a link to the finished product either, considering I would never otherwise find your brilliance.) I would love to see as many takes on it as possible, so I would be grateful to those who are willing to share this script in order for it to be seen by artists far and wide. If you’re looking to get into comic book illustration, or are just bored and need something to mess around with before your own inspiration takes over and leads you to make your own art: this is as good a place as any to start. This goes to writers too. Do not be afraid to post fan scripts online. Everyone needs practice, and it could lead to exciting collaborations. Thank you. For those who are new to illustrating comics: the rules are simple. Read the script. Outline and illustrate based on how you feel the story is best told. The panel counts and even the descriptions of the panels are only suggestions. The writer’s job is to give you the story to tell. Therefore you are the story teller. It’s only polite to stick to the dialog as closely as possible, but most writers can’t even draw stick figures, so the layout of the actual comic falls to your expertise. Go get ‘em. PAGE ONE AND TWO (Two Panels)

Panel 1. Double page splash panel of the Overwatch results screen. A quick Google image search should give you all of the reference you need for the details. The four highest scoring characters of the match are listed from left to right: Zarya from the red team credited as “47 Damage Blocked, Lost Miserably” with six likes; Widowmaker from the blue team “Fired Grappling Hook at Open Air 36 Times” two likes; Bastion from the blue team “Camped For Three Days Without Getting Kicked” three likes; and finally our hero, Mercy from the blue team, with “1,427,946 Healing Done, 98% of damage taken, 78% Kill Participation, Held the Team Afloat” and zero likes.

MERCY (Caption): “It is a thankless job.”

Panel 2. Close up on Mercy's score card. She looks solemnly down from her profile picture at her lack of recognition.

MERCY (Cap.): “One of those things where, if you do it well”

MERCY (Cap.): “No one notices.”

PAGE THREE (Three Panels)

Panel 1. Exterior. Route 66. McCree runs towards the camera in panic as he's perused by enemy D.Va, Roadhog, and Reinherdt.

MERCY (Cap.): “And then of course...”

MCCREE: Ah needs healin'!

Panel 2. Mercy stands in the foreground ducked around a corner in a tunnel with an expression of grief on her face as McCree struggles in vain to hold off his attackers outside in the background.

MERCY (Cap.): “If my choices are to let someone die, or to die alongside them...”

MCCREE: Dadgumit! Heal me whiles ah'm still above snakes!

MERCY (Cap.): “There is only one real option.”

Panel 3.

Genji clutches the limp body of McCree in his arms as Solder 76 stands behind, looking over his shoulder at Mercy who stands in the background looking hurt.

MERCY (Cap.): “But nobody remembers that I can't protect anyone if I am dead.”

GENJI: How could you allow this to happen?

SOLDIER 76: What the hell's the matter with you?

MERCY (Cap.): “All they see is my failure to act.”

PAGE FOUR (Seven Panels)

Panel 1. Interior of Zenyatta's counseling office in Overwatch HQ. There are few decorations, and no material possessions. Maybe a nice potted plant in the corner. Mercy sits upright on a long couch, elbows on her knees in a closed posture. Zenyatta floats cross-legged across from her.

Panel 2. Close up on Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: Do you find your career path rewarding?

Panel 3. Close up on Mercy looking down at the ground.

MERCY: No.

Panel 4. Same angle as she continues to stare downwards.

Panel 5. Same angle as Mercy puts her hands over her face.

Panel 6. Mercy looks up into the air, conflicted and anguished.

MERCY: Yes.

Panel 7. Same angle. Mercy hangs her head down in sorrow.

MERCY: I don't know.

PAGE FIVE (Five Panels)

Panel 1. Wide angle. Mercy sits on the couch with her arms wide. Zenyatta listens and rubs at his chin in consideration.

MERCY: I am very good at my job. We win consistently.

MERCY: That should be enough, should it not?

ZENYATTA: Excellence is it's own reward.

Panel 2. Low angle looking up at Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: Let me ask you something else.

ZENYATTA: Do you find your career fulfilling?

Panel 3. Mercy looks a little confused. Didn't she just answer this question?

MERCY: “Fulfilling?”

MERCY: How do you mean?

Panel 4.

ZENYATTA: I find that rewards come from outside oneself.

ZENYATTA: A pat on the back. The Likes you receive at the conclusion of a match. A cookie at the end of the day.

ZENYATTA: I myself do not favor organic meals, but am told Winston's baking is transcendent.

Panel 5.

ZENYATTA: Fulfillment on the other hand comes from within.

ZENYATTA: Do you take pride in your craft, Angela?

PAGE SIX (Three Panels)

Panel 1.

MERCY: Yes, of course. As I have said: I am good at my job.

MERCY: There is nothing I would rather do.

ZENYATTA: Yet there is disquiet in your soul.

Panel 2. Full angle of Zenyatta.

ZENYATTA: I believe you when you say you find fulfillment in healing.

ZENYATTA: The art of healing is a noble endeavor, though the rewards are few.

ZENYATTA: Support characters like ourselves are inclined to focus on the suffering of others.

ZENYATTA: How quickly we forget that all life feels pain, including ourselves.

Panel 3. Close-up on Mercy looking thoughtful.

ZENYATTA (Off Panel): Do you find that there are those who make your “job” easier?

MERCY: Yes...

PAGE SEVEN (Five Panels)

Panel 1. Mercy kneels on the ground wounded behind a curved barrier. She looks up at Orisa with a smile. Orisa waves hello to Mercy.

MERCY (Cap.): “Barriers are a godsend. They give me opportunity to recover, and line of sight to those in need.”

Panel 2. High angle. Hanzo and Widowmaker stand in the foreground atop a building with their backs to the camera, opening fire on the enemies in the street below. Mercy flies towards the snipers and away from the chaos below. May as well have a friendly Pharah flying around nearby too.

MERCY (Cap.): “Snipers increase my mobility and give me a way out of a tight spot entirely.”

Panel 3. Interior of Zenyatta's office. Mercy rolls her eyes and gives a wry smile.

ZENYATTA: What of damage characters that keep opponents at bay and secure objectives?

MERCY: You mean the headaches? The ones who get all of the glory?

Panel 4. Mercy waves her hands frantically.

ZENYATTA: True. The merciful are quick to be overlooked in times of war.

MERCY: No... I... I didn't mean...!

Panel 5.

MERCY: I am not in it for the glory. I am not jealous.

MERCY: I only want everyone to survive and have fun, but...

ZENYATTA: But?

PAGE EIGHT (Four Panels)

Panel 1. Mercy looks down at her hands feeling ever so full of guilt over her own needs.

MERCY: …

Panel 2.

ZENYATTA: Angela... it is alright.

MERCY: I just...

Panel 3. Zenyatta tilts his head inquisitively. Even when counselors can see the problem, they seem to prefer their clients to say it out loud to themselves, and show remarkable patience in their ability to refrain from answering for you.

Panel 4. Whatever you deem to be as heartbreaking for the reader as possible: go for it. The realization and admittance of a problem can be heavy, and the audience needs to feel that from Mercy.

MERCY: I want to be recognized.

PAGE NINE (Five Panels)

Panel 1.

ZENYATTA: It is not against the rules to ask for support from even those whom you are sworn to protect.

ZENYATTA: It does not matter if it is a barrier, a biotic grenade, or a kind word.

ZENYATTA: You need only ask.

Panel 2. Mercy looks surprised to find that time has flown by so quickly. Isn't that always the case?

ZENYATTA: I am afraid today's session must conclude.

MERCY: Already?

ZENYATTA: Time is an illusion, but the illusion is about to run out.

Panel 3. Zenyatta and Mercy bow to one-another in the middle of the room.

ZENYATTA: Angela, I advise you to pay no mind to the results screen in the future.

ZENYATTA: Look instead to the actions of your allies in-game.

ZENYATTA: They would not protect you if they did not deem you worthy of protection.

Panel 4. Zenyatta shows Mercy to the door.

MERCY: What about the suicidal Genjis who complain when I don’t revive them from miles away?

ZENYATTA: Pain is an inevitability of life. As are salty scrubs.

Panel 5. Zenyatta holds open the door for Mercy, who exits, feeling like a little bit of a weight has lifted.

ZENYATTA: Peace be upon you, Sister.

MERCY: Thank you, Zenyatta...

PAGE TEN (One Panel)

Panel 1. Mercy walks through the waiting room where Reaper, Bastion, and Genji are all waiting outside for their respective appointments.

MERCY: I suppose we could all use a helping hand sometime.

[repwincoml4a0a5]

The Uncool, Undeniable Appeal Of 'America's Got Talent'

We probably weren’t using the word “viral” to describe the skyrocket success of odd, mesmerizing one-off moments from television in 2003, but it’s safe to say that the most-watched clips from reality competition shows looked significantly different from the ones widely shared on social networks today.

That was the year William Hung, a civil engineering student at UC Berkeley, carved out his legacy in pop culture with an off-key, humorless rendition of Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” for the judges of “American Idol.” He was not admitted through to the next round — judge Simon Cowell, known for his straight shooting, simply said, “You can’t sing, you can’t dance, so what do you want me to say?” — but a legion of fans who loved him simply for his outright terrible audition grew around him. Hung made the late-night rounds, earned a meager record deal, and ensured no one could ever think of “She Bangs” in the same way again.

It’s easy to recall friends saying their favorite part of the subsequent “Idol” seasons was the cringe-y auditions; small-screen-watchers loved to lampoon the poor souls who put themselves up for judgment on national television.

Fourteen years later, primetime on basic cable is no longer the only place to watch human foibles unfold in real time. Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, even Musical.ly, the app that’s impossible for anyone born before the year 2000 to understand — there’s no shortage of hours of dumb stunts, terrible singing or ill-advised “pranks” for those seeking it out. Is that why, when looking at the viral moments in the early episodes of “America’s Got Talent” Season 12, stories of unexpected talent, early mastery, and overcoming obstacles are the ones that stand out?

Moreover, in a year marked by unprecedented political divides and large-scale scandals, is the happy innocence of dance-partner children, a chicken who can peck “America the Beautiful” and a Pierrot-esque clown who can belt out “Chandelier” the antidote?

This trend seems to have begun in earnest one year ago. Season 11 premiered in a nation that was no less divided than it is today, exhausted from and glued to the nonstop election cycle in equal turns. The premiere hit a ratings high for the show, nabbing the kind of audience numbers (12.6 million) it hadn’t seen since its Season 6 finale. That momentum, likely boosted by the appearance of the charming, gifted, ukelele-toting 12-year-old Grace VanderWaal, carried through to the season finale. VanderWaal took home the top prize, and the competition show earned its most-watched finale in five years, with 14.4 million viewers tuning in. The Google Trends for the “AGT,” which show a predictable spike each time the show is on the air, reached a new high with VanderWaal’s win. 

“America’s Got Talent,” on its face, is not a “cool” show. It’s wholesome and family-friendly to its core; its variety of acts, good and bad, dates back to programs like “The Gong Show.” Prestige TV it is not. (There’s already been a Trump impersonator getting down to Bruno Mars this season.) Goofy acts abound. And yet the emotional stock is undeniable — try sitting through the audition of Mandy Harvey, a deaf musician who re-learned how to sing through muscle memory and self-trust, as she expertly belts her way through an original tune. In an internet full of hyperbole, Harvey’s performance is the rare clip that induces the chills and watery eyes it promises. 

Except, on “America’s Got Talent,” those chills aren’t rare at all. They’re there when you see young ventriloquist Darci Lynne Farmer begin to cry at the sight of the room on its feet, thunderous with applause, at the end of her act. They’re back again for the 12-year-old dancer who says his main inspiration is his 80-year-old grandmother, and again when the 21-year-old Yoli Mayor is rebuffed by Cowell, only to earn a standing ovation after starting her audition again. The stories feel classically American: the talented everyman finally getting noticed, the brave upstart overcoming unlikely odds.

I should acknowledge that the program isn’t an untouchable oasis of kindness. Season 5 star Lindsey Stirling has spoken about the emotional roller coaster of the process, admitting that hearing criticism from the judges can be hurtful. (It’s easy to imagine these kinds of highs and lows could affect all those cute kids, who haven’t had a chance to develop thick skin that showbiz often requires, even more.) There was also the controversy over a couple who claimed host Tyra Banks “physically manipulated and verbally abused” their daughter offstage while they were performing.

Even while in the emotional throes of watching the auditions over and over again on YouTube, you wonder about the corporate hand behind it all, perhaps calculating the right combination of perceived obstacles, adorable children and stunned judges to elicit the highest rate of tear-jerking. The executives behind “America’s Got Talent” want you to cry, to share the show with your friends, imploring them to cry — but, hey, they’re doing it quite well.

Even if the people are being manipulated (but aren’t we always, with reality TV?), it’s a manipulation we want. The clip of Farmer’s golden buzzer win has nearly 18 million views on YouTube after being online for just a week; Harvey’s emotional performance, online for just a day as of press time, has 9.5 million.

The Hollywood Reporter reports that the show retained 100 percent of its audience from its 2016 opener. Cowell is doing interviews about how the series deserves the same kind of Emmys recognition he received as the no-nonsense music exec on “Idol.”

“I’m not trying to be biased, but I genuinely thought this was the best TV I’d seen probably in all the years I’ve done it,” Cowell said to Deadline. His interview shows the kind of earnestness you might not expect from the longtime producer and judge — unless you’re considering that he’s shopping his project around for award nominations, and naturally will speak highly of it.

“It’s just one of those things, and it just makes you realize, as much as this is about talent, and it is, it’s also about people and some of the people you meet along the way,” Cowell told Deadline. It’s enough to make you want to click back to YouTube, watch Cowell watching Harvey, and feel the chills all over again. 

You can be highbrow. You can be lowbrow. But can you ever just be brow? Welcome to Middlebrow, a weekly examination of pop culture. Read more here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2rIsnI9

[exfrenchdorsl4p0a1]

The Uncool, Undeniable Appeal Of 'America's Got Talent'

We probably weren’t using the word “viral” to describe the skyrocket success of odd, mesmerizing one-off moments from television in 2003, but it’s safe to say that the most-watched clips from reality competition shows looked significantly different from the ones widely shared on social networks today.

That was the year William Hung, a civil engineering student at UC Berkeley, carved out his legacy in pop culture with an off-key, humorless rendition of Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” for the judges of “American Idol.” He was not admitted through to the next round — judge Simon Cowell, known for his straight shooting, simply said, “You can’t sing, you can’t dance, so what do you want me to say?” — but a legion of fans who loved him simply for his outright terrible audition grew around him. Hung made the late-night rounds, earned a meager record deal, and ensured no one could ever think of “She Bangs” in the same way again.

It’s easy to recall friends saying their favorite part of the subsequent “Idol” seasons was the cringe-y auditions; small-screen-watchers loved to lampoon the poor souls who put themselves up for judgment on national television.

Fourteen years later, primetime on basic cable is no longer the only place to watch human foibles unfold in real time. Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, even Musical.ly, the app that’s impossible for anyone born before the year 2000 to understand — there’s no shortage of hours of dumb stunts, terrible singing or ill-advised “pranks” for those seeking it out. Is that why, when looking at the viral moments in the early episodes of “America’s Got Talent” Season 12, stories of unexpected talent, early mastery, and overcoming obstacles are the ones that stand out?

Moreover, in a year marked by unprecedented political divides and large-scale scandals, is the happy innocence of dance-partner children, a chicken who can peck “America the Beautiful” and a Pierrot-esque clown who can belt out “Chandelier” the antidote?

This trend seems to have begun in earnest one year ago. Season 11 premiered in a nation that was no less divided than it is today, exhausted from and glued to the nonstop election cycle in equal turns. The premiere hit a ratings high for the show, nabbing the kind of audience numbers (12.6 million) it hadn’t seen since its Season 6 finale. That momentum, likely boosted by the appearance of the charming, gifted, ukelele-toting 12-year-old Grace VanderWaal, carried through to the season finale. VanderWaal took home the top prize, and the competition show earned its most-watched finale in five years, with 14.4 million viewers tuning in. The Google Trends for the “AGT,” which show a predictable spike each time the show is on the air, reached a new high with VanderWaal’s win. 

“America’s Got Talent,” on its face, is not a “cool” show. It’s wholesome and family-friendly to its core; its variety of acts, good and bad, dates back to programs like “The Gong Show.” Prestige TV it is not. (There’s already been a Trump impersonator getting down to Bruno Mars this season.) Goofy acts abound. And yet the emotional stock is undeniable — try sitting through the audition of Mandy Harvey, a deaf musician who re-learned how to sing through muscle memory and self-trust, as she expertly belts her way through an original tune. In an internet full of hyperbole, Harvey’s performance is the rare clip that induces the chills and watery eyes it promises. 

Except, on “America’s Got Talent,” those chills aren’t rare at all. They’re there when you see young ventriloquist Darci Lynne Farmer begin to cry at the sight of the room on its feet, thunderous with applause, at the end of her act. They’re back again for the 12-year-old dancer who says his main inspiration is his 80-year-old grandmother, and again when the 21-year-old Yoli Mayor is rebuffed by Cowell, only to earn a standing ovation after starting her audition again. The stories feel classically American: the talented everyman finally getting noticed, the brave upstart overcoming unlikely odds.

I should acknowledge that the program isn���t an untouchable oasis of kindness. Season 5 star Lindsey Stirling has spoken about the emotional roller coaster of the process, admitting that hearing criticism from the judges can be hurtful. (It’s easy to imagine these kinds of highs and lows could affect all those cute kids, who haven’t had a chance to develop thick skin that showbiz often requires, even more.) There was also the controversy over a couple who claimed host Tyra Banks “physically manipulated and verbally abused” their daughter offstage while they were performing.

Even while in the emotional throes of watching the auditions over and over again on YouTube, you wonder about the corporate hand behind it all, perhaps calculating the right combination of perceived obstacles, adorable children and stunned judges to elicit the highest rate of tear-jerking. The executives behind “America’s Got Talent” want you to cry, to share the show with your friends, imploring them to cry — but, hey, they’re doing it quite well.

Even if the people are being manipulated (but aren’t we always, with reality TV?), it’s a manipulation we want. The clip of Farmer’s golden buzzer win has nearly 18 million views on YouTube after being online for just a week; Harvey’s emotional performance, online for just a day as of press time, has 9.5 million.

The Hollywood Reporter reports that the show retained 100 percent of its audience from its 2016 opener. Cowell is doing interviews about how the series deserves the same kind of Emmys recognition he received as the no-nonsense music exec on “Idol.”

“I’m not trying to be biased, but I genuinely thought this was the best TV I’d seen probably in all the years I’ve done it,” Cowell said to Deadline. His interview shows the kind of earnestness you might not expect from the longtime producer and judge — unless you’re considering that he’s shopping his project around for award nominations, and naturally will speak highly of it.

“It’s just one of those things, and it just makes you realize, as much as this is about talent, and it is, it’s also about people and some of the people you meet along the way,” Cowell told Deadline. It’s enough to make you want to click back to YouTube, watch Cowell watching Harvey, and feel the chills all over again. 

You can be highbrow. You can be lowbrow. But can you ever just be brow? Welcome to Middlebrow, a weekly examination of pop culture. Read more here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2rIsnI9

[rtawngs20815]

The Uncool, Undeniable Appeal Of 'America's Got Talent'

We probably weren’t using the word “viral” to describe the skyrocket success of odd, mesmerizing one-off moments from television in 2003, but it’s safe to say that the most-watched clips from reality competition shows looked significantly different from the ones widely shared on social networks today.

That was the year William Hung, a civil engineering student at UC Berkeley, carved out his legacy in pop culture with an off-key, humorless rendition of Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” for the judges of “American Idol.” He was not admitted through to the next round — judge Simon Cowell, known for his straight shooting, simply said, “You can’t sing, you can’t dance, so what do you want me to say?” — but a legion of fans who loved him simply for his outright terrible audition grew around him. Hung made the late-night rounds, earned a meager record deal, and ensured no one could ever think of “She Bangs” in the same way again.

It’s easy to recall friends saying their favorite part of the subsequent “Idol” seasons was the cringe-y auditions; small-screen-watchers loved to lampoon the poor souls who put themselves up for judgment on national television.

Fourteen years later, primetime on basic cable is no longer the only place to watch human foibles unfold in real time. Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, even Musical.ly, the app that’s impossible for anyone born before the year 2000 to understand — there’s no shortage of hours of dumb stunts, terrible singing or ill-advised “pranks” for those seeking it out. Is that why, when looking at the viral moments in the early episodes of “America’s Got Talent” Season 12, stories of unexpected talent, early mastery, and overcoming obstacles are the ones that stand out?

Moreover, in a year marked by unprecedented political divides and large-scale scandals, is the happy innocence of dance-partner children, a chicken who can peck “America the Beautiful” and a Pierrot-esque clown who can belt out “Chandelier” the antidote?

This trend seems to have begun in earnest one year ago. Season 11 premiered in a nation that was no less divided than it is today, exhausted from and glued to the nonstop election cycle in equal turns. The premiere hit a ratings high for the show, nabbing the kind of audience numbers (12.6 million) it hadn’t seen since its Season 6 finale. That momentum, likely boosted by the appearance of the charming, gifted, ukelele-toting 12-year-old Grace VanderWaal, carried through to the season finale. VanderWaal took home the top prize, and the competition show earned its most-watched finale in five years, with 14.4 million viewers tuning in. The Google Trends for the “AGT,” which show a predictable spike each time the show is on the air, reached a new high with VanderWaal’s win. 

“America’s Got Talent,” on its face, is not a “cool” show. It’s wholesome and family-friendly to its core; its variety of acts, good and bad, dates back to programs like “The Gong Show.” Prestige TV it is not. (There’s already been a Trump impersonator getting down to Bruno Mars this season.) Goofy acts abound. And yet the emotional stock is undeniable — try sitting through the audition of Mandy Harvey, a deaf musician who re-learned how to sing through muscle memory and self-trust, as she expertly belts her way through an original tune. In an internet full of hyperbole, Harvey’s performance is the rare clip that induces the chills and watery eyes it promises. 

Except, on “America’s Got Talent,” those chills aren’t rare at all. They’re there when you see young ventriloquist Darci Lynne Farmer begin to cry at the sight of the room on its feet, thunderous with applause, at the end of her act. They’re back again for the 12-year-old dancer who says his main inspiration is his 80-year-old grandmother, and again when the 21-year-old Yoli Mayor is rebuffed by Cowell, only to earn a standing ovation after starting her audition again. The stories feel classically American: the talented everyman finally getting noticed, the brave upstart overcoming unlikely odds.

I should acknowledge that the program isn’t an untouchable oasis of kindness. Season 5 star Lindsey Stirling has spoken about the emotional roller coaster of the process, admitting that hearing criticism from the judges can be hurtful. (It’s easy to imagine these kinds of highs and lows could affect all those cute kids, who haven’t had a chance to develop thick skin that showbiz often requires, even more.) There was also the controversy over a couple who claimed host Tyra Banks “physically manipulated and verbally abused” their daughter offstage while they were performing.

Even while in the emotional throes of watching the auditions over and over again on YouTube, you wonder about the corporate hand behind it all, perhaps calculating the right combination of perceived obstacles, adorable children and stunned judges to elicit the highest rate of tear-jerking. The executives behind “America’s Got Talent” want you to cry, to share the show with your friends, imploring them to cry — but, hey, they’re doing it quite well.

Even if the people are being manipulated (but aren’t we always, with reality TV?), it’s a manipulation we want. The clip of Farmer’s golden buzzer win has nearly 18 million views on YouTube after being online for just a week; Harvey’s emotional performance, online for just a day as of press time, has 9.5 million.

The Hollywood Reporter reports that the show retained 100 percent of its audience from its 2016 opener. Cowell is doing interviews about how the series deserves the same kind of Emmys recognition he received as the no-nonsense music exec on “Idol.”

“I’m not trying to be biased, but I genuinely thought this was the best TV I’d seen probably in all the years I’ve done it,” Cowell said to Deadline. His interview shows the kind of earnestness you might not expect from the longtime producer and judge — unless you’re considering that he’s shopping his project around for award nominations, and naturally will speak highly of it.

“It’s just one of those things, and it just makes you realize, as much as this is about talent, and it is, it’s also about people and some of the people you meet along the way,” Cowell told Deadline. It’s enough to make you want to click back to YouTube, watch Cowell watching Harvey, and feel the chills all over again. 

You can be highbrow. You can be lowbrow. But can you ever just be brow? Welcome to Middlebrow, a weekly examination of pop culture. Read more here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2rIsnI9