#this took me like 12 hours combined actually don’t copy me

[ireblogpunkstuff]

Death to logos. Long live the seam ripper

[pagegirlintraining]

AO3 wrapped (writer’s edition)

Well, this was a lovely way to close out the year. Here goes:

1. How many words have you written this year?

An unbelievable 331,924 👀

2. How many works did you publish this year?

12 in total. 6 are oneshots, and of the rest I’ve finished 4.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I’m extremely proud of Oh, Those Summer Nights. The dialogue in this one flows so beautifully, I love the way I got to incorporate some of my favorite places in Stockholm, and it just altogether has this magical atmosphere about it.

But also, for entirely different reasons, Vi har bara varandra, det är allt vi behöver. Because I wrote a freaking story in Swedish, what even?!

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

Overall it’s Dancing Through Life with a little over 22k, but considering we didn’t start publishing The Prince And The Popstar until August this year, the 16k on that one feel worth mentioning. On a chapter basis they’re also very close to one another.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

The Prince And The Popstar. For sure. That one blew both of us away I think.

6. Favorite title you used?

Both One, two, three, four, five, sex on my mind and Stop the world (I wanna get off with you) fit so nicely with what the respective stories are about.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I haven’t actually checked, but it’s probably Sabrina Carpenter from Prince and Popstar alone 😂

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Wilmon. They’re also the only pairing I wrote for.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Same answer as 8.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Copy and Pasta went from a batshit idea to a fully-written thing within 4 hours, that’s got to be a personal record.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

The writing process of Prince and Popstar was very spread out because both @the-amber-fox and I had lots of life stuff happen in between. All in all it took us 4 months to even have enough to start posting, and then another 3 to finish it.

12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

I have two new ones I firmly plan on writing, and one idea I’m not so sure about yet. Also two I plan on finishing next year.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

Based on the amounts of them that were written this year, it’s The Prince And The Popstar. Then again I only wrote about half of that, so it may also be The Time Of My Life with 45501 words and counting.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

Vi har bara varandra, det är allt vi behöver (714 words) for obvious reasons 😂

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

Dancing through life (don’t look at me, I swear I will get myself to finish that epilogue at some point🙈), The Time Of My Life and Killing me softly (with his song), which still hasn’t gotten a second chapter yet but is very much not abandoned.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Alternate Universe. Who else is not surprised?

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I swear, the answer to this changes every time I think about it. For now I’ll go with my Dirty Dancing AU version of Simon, because he’s somehow the version that feels closest to canon Simon even though plot wise the story is the farthest from canon. That’s a nice mental stretch to keep up.

18. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Can you hear me laughing? It’s Wilmon all the way.

19. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

It’s probably a tie between Copy and Pasta (short, sweet, always cheers me up) and the already existing parts of The Time Of My Life (it’s two of my favorite things combined, has my favorite version of Wille I’ve written and some beautiful Wilmon moments I really like revisiting).

20. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

4448.

21. Which work has the most comments?

Per chapter it’s The Prince And The Popstar.

22. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Yessss 😍 I realized the other day that I’ve written four complete works with my darling @the-amber-fox this year and could not believe it. They’ve been some of my faves to write, and that’s hugely thanks to her, so thanks 💜

I also got to write the first chapter of Killing me softly with the amazing @ishotforthestars . Mayyyyybe we’ll get back to that one for a special occasion…😁

23. Did you write any gifts this year?

I sure did. Got to cowrite two birthday presents, for and with @the-amber-fox and @ishotforthestars respectively. Then another birthday present for @omaremioo and a Christmas present for @zee-has-commitment-issues .

24. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Yes again. Got a lovely birthday gift and the very best Christmas gift this year (Thanks, Foxy, and thanks times two, Elin 😂🫶🏼)

25. What’s your most common category?

M/M unsurprisingly.

26. What do you listen to while writing?

When I do it’s either my ever-growing annual playlist or the cheesiest 80s ballads for intimacy scenes.

27. Favorite work you wrote this year?

I think I’ve had the most fun with Prince and Popstar, but the most moments of giddy pride with The Time Of My Life. That’s all I can say for this one.

28. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I can’t possibly choose a favorite, mostly because I’d have to reread all of them and I don’t have a whole week off to do it😄 so I’ll go with something that, while pretty simple, resonated with me a lot when I reread it: “Just because that’s what he expects doesn’t mean it’s what you need to give him, Simon.”

29. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Learning that despite what I’d been told before, I seem to have a knack for comedic writing.

[adultswim2021]

Lucy, the Daughter of the Devil #8: “The Special Fathers vs. the Vampire Altar Boys” | October 22, 2007 - 12:15AM | S01E08

I admire when a TV show does an episode that breaks from it’s formula, generally speaking. But when a TV show you despise does it almost feels embarrassing, like you’re accidentally witnessed something you’re not supposed to see.

I guess it’s somewhat comparable to the time in fifth grade when my mom scheduled a dentist appointment during a school day, which made me a couple hours late to school. By happenstance that day wound up being the day we were doing sex ed. They combined two classes and split the boys from each class into one room and the girls from each class into another. Coincidentally the girls got to stay in what would have been my home room. So when I walked in I was met with about 40 girls all yelling at me to get out. That’s sorta like this, except imagine the girls-only sex ed instructor is Loren Bouchard on a DVD audio commentary pompously explaining how he felt it was important to break the formula of the show for this episode, and the fifth grade girls that are yelling at me to get out are just different fifth grade girls, but wearing all black.

To finish that story: when the boy’s class was over the instructor told us we were welcome to stay after and ask more questions if we wanted. My friends and I actually took her up on that. We were the “obviously have seen porn” kids, and we asked some slightly more advanced questions then what was presented to us in class. I remember this afternoon fondly, but I wonder if we were usurping the time meant for the molested children among us to come get some help. Oh well. Best not to think about it too much. The folly of youth!!!

Speaking of getting molested: This one is a standalone Lucy-less story about the Special Fathers being called to address a growing problem of vampiric choir boys in various churches. It actually starts off with an attempted molestation by a priest on an alter boy getting shut down by said alter boy actually growing fangs and drinking the blood of said priest. 

The Special Fathers are brought in and briefed on the matter at hand. We are treated to a little cutesy chalkboard drawing animation describing how to kill a vampire and explaining which myths are from movies and are bogus. One of the fathers points out that most modern movies also include similar lines to “forget what you’ve seen in movies”, which is a decently funny observation. I also liked the little exchange about how one of the Vatican scientists has a captive vampire for purely vain reasons (to best a friend who has a pet snake). Also mildly funny. 

Another bit I sorta like is when the tenacious Eugene Mirman nun is being drained of her blood while shackled to the cross. She refuses to die, and keeps spitefully making mundane conversation. She winds up getting rescued by the priests who charge in with a big inflatable mattress on top of a truck. That’s the other thing: the church discovered that crosses have no effect on these vampires, but they are terrified of balloons. 

I don’t like this show, but I’d call this one of the stronger episodes. Nothing made me laugh out loud, but there are some ideas I thought were decently amusing. The story moves quickly and then it’s over. That 23 minutes went by fast! Wait? 23 minutes? That can’t be right.

Okay, it isn’t right. BUT: If you watch this on HBOMax right now, the episode appears to be double-length. That’s because they uploaded it without editing the master, which includes a superfluous copy of the episode tacked onto the end with no text. So you can make your fan edit of this episode replacing all the credits with comic sans font.

MAIL BAG

There was a cool goth-ish girl at my high school who used to wear a Home Movies shirt all the time. I wonder if she ever saw or was even aware of Lucy. Anyway, I wonder if loren was jealous of all the goth puss jackson & doc probably pulled in

Loren would kill to smell even Dino’s finger’s (which yielded a 1 in 5 chance there’d be man juice on there)

Reading that last robot chicken review made me go “wow they used to have a girl ninja turtle named Venus” out loud to the friend I was calling which then piqued our curiosity enough for us to look at a bunch of low resolution pictures of her and try to figure out if she had nipples or not. She didn’t but it really looks like she does sometimes. She didn’t though. It was just a trick of the eye. It was just a trick.

They are calling this maybe one of the worst tricks ever pulled, in my mouth

[sofarsofastmp3]

this month i declared love for an author and then immediately discovered a major problem. whoops.

helloooo. i’d been writing all of these at once at the end of the month and for september i decided to attempt some level of organization by writing my comments right after finishing the book! this did make for longer “reviews” but. we move. 

prodigal summer by barbara kingsolver

barbara!!!! what the hell, girl!! i’ve owned prodigal summer for over two years and i regret all the time that we’ve occupied the same space without becoming acquainted. i inhaled 90% of this book over the course of a 12 hour travel day and the next afternoon; i am obsessed with it. there are three main story threads that become more clearly entwined as they each unfold. i do have a favorite, but it took the entire novel to decide. since finishing, i’ve fallen in love with the incredibly vague blurbs for this book on its goodreads page and on the back of my paperback copy. all it gives you going in is that this is a story about connection and the environment of southern appalachia. all the author pull quotes are calling it sexy and lush. and yeah, it’s all of the above!! kingsolver puts her biology degree to work in this thing. even when i had no real idea where this book was going, i had already fallen in love with the writing and setting. it’s also incredibly tender in a way that sneaks up on you. i just love it. my one single qualm is that sometimes the women’s internal monologues lean a little on the gender essentialist side, but i see what kingsolver is doing with it and also it was 2000. i have one of her short story collections on my shelf already (another one that’s been in my orbit for over a year. barbara i’m so sorry for ignoring you.) and i’m feeling drawn to demon copperhead which won her the pulitzer last year. 

ne’er duke well by alexandra vasti

another one for the book fest spreadsheet <3 i like vasti. back in early 2023, i read her self published novellas that you get for free when you sign up for her newsletter, and i was jazzed when i found out she was getting traditionally published! ne’er duke well has the things i liked about the novellas (lovable, funny characters with tangible feelings and inner worlds), but it’s also missing something. several scenes, actually. at multiple points in this book, a new chapter starts days or weeks ahead! normally i wouldn’t mind but it felt like she was glossing over kind of important stretches of time. an entire wedding is skipped!! this combined with a severely cheesy conclusion to both main conflicts left me wanting a bit more. i’m hoping her next one is paced a bit better to have that depth. 

a halifax holiday by alexandra vasti (halifax hellions #4)

it’s cute! a 40ish page holiday epilogue for a trilogy of novellas. not much to say, and honestly i read the novellas so long ago i kept forgetting which of the twin sisters was which and who they married.  

i am made of death by kelly andrew

third time was the charm with me actually reading kelly andrew arcs before their pub date lol. i got physical arcs of both the whispering dark and your blood, my bones but read both books a couple months after their releases. i put in a netgalley request for this one last week; it doesn’t come out until march. it’s 2:30 am and i just finished it. i haven’t been sleeping great recently. but also this book was just really engaging! i’ll have to write a real review at some point so the arc people don’t get mad, but for here in my little ramble diary i’ll just say i really like andrew. your blood, my bones is still my favorite, but i think she’s continuing to evolve and create such a fun, twisty voice. i like how gross these last two books have gotten, and i think her characters’ sharpness feels more honest than a lot of ya protagonists i’ve read. this one in particular felt that way. i love vivienne; she is so real and dear to me, and hearing how andrew kind of channeled some of her younger self’s feelings about being disabled into this character was super interesting. you can really see her tap into that with vivienne, who is mute. some of the finer details of her world building and lore could use some work, but her characters are really the main focus and are also one of her strongest points. her imagery goes crazy. that’s the best part by far. 

her wanton wager (mayhem in mayfair #2) by grace callaway

this is my second grace callaway and i think i have to accept that for all people rave about her online, she’s not for me. both her male and female characters kind of run together in the same, boring (to me) framework. even when i can see clear cameos of couples from her other works in the book! there’s only so many times i can hear about an ultra masculine scoundrel with a tragic past and secret heart of gold. especially when it’s done so similarly every time

antigonick (sophocles) translated by anne carson

brief, yet impactful. obviously antigone and polynices are the focus here but ismene and antigone’s exchange of “i want to row the boat with you” “save yourself” “i’ll be so lonely” is so. i have 3 siblings. you understand.  i’m excited to read more anne carson, this is the first full work of hers i’ve read and i liked it a lot. great rhythm and it’s such a funny translation/interpretation but also contains these truly walloping lines. i think it’s always interesting getting the full context of tumblr’s poetry darlings. “but who can grow me a new brother” has circulated thousands upon thousands of times clipped by itself, pasted into a scrapbook web weave, and edited onto succession stills. you can feel the force of it in all of those places, but none like in here. also, i’m a little obsessed with thinking about translation or adaptation as the john ashbery “trying to peel off the wallpaper in my room, not out of animosity but because it seemed there must be be something fascinating behind [it]” 

the earl on the train by kerrigan byrne (victorian rebels #6.5) 

i’m a sucker for a stupid pun. was scrolling hoopla unable to sleep and this was only 170 pages! had a blast, kind of wish this was a full length novel, and now i really want to read more of this series/byrne in general. i’ve read in-series novellas from people before where it was just full of name and lore drops that made it impossible to enjoy if you haven’t read every book in the series (tessa dare i love you your spindle cove novellas are incomprehensible), but this totally stands alone while making me incredibly intrigued by the installment these two characters hail from. okay WAIT. the installment in question is called “the duke with the dragon tattoo.” using two goofy puns on popular mystery novels to link your stories? ms byrne i Love you. 

a dark and drowning tide by allison saft

i have been SO anticipating saft’s adult debut and i liked it so! much! it honestly doesn’t feel too distant from her ya, it has the same kind of close feel and she still utilizes highly political plot points, but you can sense that she wanted to up the ante a bit. this is an expedition gone wrong, a murder mystery, a political conspiracy, and a lesbian romance. there’s a lot going on!! but it’s all contained well. a worse author would have dragged this into at least another book. i know her next book is ya but i’m kind of hoping for a continued venture into adult fantasy. again, i’m selfish! 

the highwayman by kerrigan byrne (victorian rebels 1)

prefacing this with the fact that i am pms-ing. severely. but i spent like a third of this book on the verge of tears my GOD. i have ~qualms~ with the way some of blackwell’s baggage is handled and there’s a kind of comically evil third act villain that doesn’t feel necessary given how much conflict this book already grapples with lmao BUT!! i read this in one sitting and i was so invested

the hunter by kerrigan byrne (victorian rebels 2) 

incredibly weird stereotypes of like four different cultures in the first 30% ish of this book that are then never mentioned again. it was so bizarre, even with its eventual absence, i still kept thinking back on it as i was reading. it was like in an effort to diversify her story, byrne overcorrected into two dimensional nonsense. i have no clue if i’m going to keep going in this series, but even if i do eventually, i need a break from it. just weird.

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E7: Day Forty-Seven

Season 8 Episode 7: Day Forty-Seven

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Kinkade and Rizavi film a vlog that follows a relatively normal day on the IGF-Atlas with its humorous moments and the stress of battle.

[Google Doc]

Kinkade: Hello. This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 0600 hours. It’s day forty-seven. And this is a glimpse at day-to-day life aboard the IGF-Atlas.

[Cut to Kinkade brushing his teeth as the camera floats over his shoulder.]

Kinkade: Last night, I unpacked my video gear and decided to document the crew. I know it seems strange, but before Earth was attacked, I didn’t go anywhere without my camera.

[Cut to Kinkade running on a treadmill.]

Kinkade: Back home, people asked me why I liked recording things. They also asked me why I didn’t talk that much. To both of those things, I’d always say… [grunts]

[Cut to Kinkade doing pull-ups.]

Kinkade: Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Romelle: You’re recording? Why?

Griffin: Kinkade has always been, uh… an individual who’s most comfortable observing and reflecting on life. Being a fighter pilot was actually his backup plan.

[Cut to Kinkade wearing a blindfold as he works on his blaster rifle.]

Kinkade: It’s true. I learned how to shoot with a camera before I learned how to shoot with a rifle. I guess filming is just a small piece of the larger puzzle that makes up the picture of who I am. Hm.

[Cut to Kinkade turning the camera on once more and walking to a fighter jet.]

Rizavi: So you’re really shooting another documentary? Please tell me this is going to be more exciting than that project you did for Mr. Pollard’s biology class about yeast.

Kinkade: That was actually about the process of fermentation. Yeast converts carbohydrates into carbon diox--

Rizavi: Boring! Okay, look, if this little documentary is how history will remember us, I’m gonna help you spruce it up! How many cameras do you have? What’s your visual effects budget? Do you have any smoke bombs?

[Cut to Keith and Pidge facing the camera as it focuses on Pidge directly.]

Kinkade: Okay. We’re set.

Rizavi: So, uh, catch us up on what’s going on.

Pidge: Right. Well, the Atlas is headed to the Grei-Aye system where we’ve identified the remains of a disabled robeast.

Rizavi: Oh! Those things are pretty dangerous, right?

Pidge: Do I need to explain that the robeast was one of the ones used in Honerva’s intergalactic ritual?

Rizavi: No, it’s fine.

Pidge: Okay. Um, so, once the Atlas arrives in orbit around the planet, the other Paladins and I will head down to the surface to secure the robeast and hopefully find its Altean pilot.

Rizavi: Ugh, okay. Keith! Why don’t you tell us about the dangers of this mission?

Keith: Well, every mission has some inherent dangers. For this one, we have to be especially diligent about the robeast. Even if it’s not fully functional, it can still pose an extreme threat. Combine that with the hostile Altean that’s probably still in the vicinity, and you’ve potentially got threats on multiple fronts.

Hunk: Hey, guys. What’s up? You making a movie? Cool. Can I be in it? Now, wait, if this is an action movie… is it? I don’t wanna be in it.

Rizavi: Hunk, we’re trying to do an interview here.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Yeah, my bad. I just came by to see if you wanted to try this new recipe I’ve been experimenting with. This is just the first pass. The final version of it will be coming soon. No, Bae Bae! Not for you! I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ll make you some doggy treats later.

Kinkade: What’s the recipe? Can we watch you work?

Hunk: Well, yeah! Yeah, this’ll be great! I’ve secretly always wanted my own cooking show.

Rizavi: What? No! Keith was just telling us about the mission and all the dangers! We’re not losing that to document cooking.

Kinkade: But, I like cooking.

Rizavi: It’s like you’re trying to make this boring.

Hunk: Whoa, first of all, cooking is not boring, okay? And it can bring people together. Some of the best times of my life were spent breaking bread with loved ones.

Keith: So, is this interview over?

Rizavi: No! Great, now the talent’s getting restless!

Iverson: Everyone, report to your battle stations immediately! I repeat… battle stations immediately! This is not a drill!

Rizavi: The camera!

Kinkade: Leave it! We need to go!

Rizavi: But this is gold!

Kinkade: Come o--

Iverson: MFE pilots, report to hangars alpha-bravo! Scrambling fighters in five! Paladins, stand by for launch.

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the fallen camera and carries it around.]

Shiro: Where did it come from? Veronica, get me eyes on it!

Coran: That thing just appeared out of nowhere!

Shiro: Iverson, fire when ready!

Iverson: Target acquired! We’ve got lock! Wait. No… we lost it! Target has gone dark!

Veronica: Electromagnetic radiation from that planet is overloading our radars.

Shiro: Voltron, do you have a visual? I repeat, Voltron, do you have a visual?

Keith: Not yet. We’re going in now! Stand by! We can’t see a thing in here!

Griffin: Copy that. We have zero visibility as well. We need a visual.

Curtis: Roger. Trying another avenue. Scanning for biometrics. Visual acquired!

Coran: Incoming!

Iverson: Recharging all starboard cannons!

Curtis: Sensors are offline!

Iverson: What is that thing?

Coran: It’s massive!

Shiro: Iverson, open fire!

Coran: Direct hit! It’s coming back around for another shot!

Shiro: Veronica, prep shields!

[Scene change as the camera falls down a vent into Sam and Slav’s workstation.]

Sam: Whatever hit us just knocked loose the gravity generator! Grab the flaxum assembly!

Slav: I can’t do that! It’s red!

Sam: Is this one of your crazy probability, reality things?

[Scene change to a hallway as soldiers float through to their stations.]

Shiro: All crew, report to stations and prepare for Atlas transformation--

Atlas Crewmember: Go, go, go!

Shiro: --in T-minus thirty seconds!

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the camera again and carries it.]

Colleen: Bae Bae, what are you doing out here? And what’s this in your mouth? A camera? Come on, girl.

Shiro: All crew, prepare for Atlas transformation sequence in five… four… three… two… one!

[Scene change as the camera dies, then powers on again facing Kinkade once more.]

Kinkade: Camera’s fully charged. We’re good to go. The time is now 0900 hours. We just experienced a minor mishap aboard the IGF-Atlas, but we’re back on track. In the future, we’ll hopefully be avoiding creature-occupied gas planets.

[Cut to Kinkade floating through a hallway.]

Kinkade: Hey, Seok Jin, where you headed?

Seok Jin: I’m transporting these samples back to Earth. Commander Holt thinks it can help with the recovery efforts there.

Kinkade: Well, they couldn’t have picked a better man for the job. Take care, man. Hey, Seok Jin… we’ll miss you, buddy.

[Scene change to the camera looking into the mess hall, where Vrepit Sal is cleaning tables and then rotates to face the hallway.]

Rizavi: There you are! Tell me this thing was recording during the attack! That was so intense! Oh, this documentary’s gonna be awesome!

[Cut to Kolivan sitting in a small office facing the camera.]

Kolivan: I believe our heading readout en route was 92254739.275. Wait, no. It was 9.265. Yes. That was our heading per our readout just prior to our deployment.

Rizavi: [mock snoring]

Kolivan: Our teams vary in size. Often we use the three-person unit, but it’s not unusual to have a four- or a five- or perhaps even a six-person unit. Seven seems rare, but... it could happen.

Rizavi: Okay, I like everything you’re telling me, but let’s just try it a little less like you’re reporting the facts to your commanding officer and a little more like you’re telling your friend an exciting story in the gym. You understand?

Kolivan: Yes, understood.

Rizavi: Okay, good. Why don’t you tell us about your last mission?

Kolivan: Our last mission took place on planet K-V Exus. The Blades divided into three four-person teams and we escorted approximately twelve rescue crafts to the surface. I believe our heading readout was 359.222--

Rizavi: Thank! Thank you! Okay, I think we got it!

Kolivan: But I wasn’t done.

Rizavi: Yeah, you nailed it. Yeah. We need to get someone more exciting in here.

[Cut to Coran leaning into the camera as it slowly attempts to focus on him.]

Coran: Then the Atlas started firing with everything it had! And don’t forget the white hole is swirling right next to us the entire time! Oh, no, it’s about to close! Meanwhile, not one, but two, yes, two, robeasts are attacking! Shiro’s shouting out orders. “Coran, get closer! Iverson, open fire!” Beams of quintessence energy are converging from all over the galaxy! Ah! You know, you could just imagine it.

[Scene change to Rizavi turning the camera on in Slav and Sam’s workspace.]

Sam: Welcome to the engine room. What you see here is just a tiny part of what keeps the ship functioning.

Rizavi: Slav, you’ve created some incredible technology. What do you think of the Atlas?

Slav: I can respect any engineering that extrapolates for transmutation, but I wish the writing was in Altean.

Sam: He’s mentioned that a few times.

Rizavi: So what are you doing now?

Slav: Right now we’re about to adjust the gravity generator, which was fractionally increased during our last battle.

Sam: Yes, our gravity generator is actually a fluid system, ever-changing depending on the specific needs of the location, so it requires recalibrating from time to time. Okay, adjust gravity generator back down to .12.

Slav: Copy. Adjusting now.

Sam: What did you press?

Slav: I don’t know! Which one is the two again? I can’t read these weird symbols you call numbers! Hey, big guy, toss me over! Oh, no. Directly on a crack!

Kinkade: Weird.

[Cut to the camera focusing on some juniberry shoots in a pot.]

Colleen: Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s an Altean juniberry. The first one to bloom in nearly ten thousand years. I managed to get it to grow by resequencing the genetic code of a similar plant. I wanna give it to Allura. These are our fertilizers. We have fish emulsion, worm castings, Kaltenecker manure. Just so much great recycled poop! And this is our lighting station. I like to say our lighting array is literally out of this world! You know, because we’re, you know, on a space ship.

Rizavi: Can I take a shot at this?

[Cut to the camera panning across the crops in the grow room.]

Rizavi: Welcome to extreme space harvesting! Where we have plants and crops and super fertilizers all under one roof! Meet Colleen Holt, the botanical genius behind it all.

[Cut to Colleen sitting in a chair in the grow room.]

Colleen: I guess I just liked plants all my life. I’ve done a lot of research, but I know I have much to learn. I guess… I like… the challenge. I’m sorry, where am I supposed to be looking?

Rizavi: Without Colleen, all life aboard the ship could perish. One bad crop, the introduction of one foreign pest, and it’s all over.

Colleen: I just like plants.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something again? I just--I just came in to see if Colleen had a very specific type of yeast.

Kinkade: Yeast? What for?

Rizavi: Oh, no.

Hunk: It’s that recipe I’ve been working on. I think I got the topping down, but I’m still trying to figure out the sweet bread.

Colleen: Well, I have so many strains of yeast, it’ll make your head spin. I got AB972, S288C. I even have O unilateralis. Don’t mess with that one.

Kinkade: Are you getting this?

Rizavi: Unfortunately, yes.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through a hallway.]

Rizavi: The time is 1200 hours. We just got word that we are in the Grei-Aye star system. The Paladins will be heading down to the surface of the planet any second now.

[Cut to the camera facing Allura, Lance, and Keith in the hangar for Black Lion.]

Rizavi: Lance, how are you feeling about the mission you’re about to go on?

Lance: Oh, hey. I’m feeling good, I guess. Maybe a little tense. Maybe a lot tense. I don’t know. Why’d you have to ask me that question?

Allura: I think what Lance is trying to say is he’ll be fine. We all will.

Keith: Let’s move out.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi standing a ways away from Blue Lion as it launches.]

Rizavi: Right now, we’re headed to the situation room where we’ll be monitoring the Paladins in real-time.

Kinkade: By the way, you know we’re not gonna be able to bring our camera into that meeting, right?

Rizavi: Says who?

[Scene change to the situation room where Veronica, Coran, Sam, and Shiro are all facing a screen showing a no-signal symbol.]

Sam: Come in, Pidge. Are you reading us?

Pidge: Okay, we’ve just touched down on the surface.

Keith: We’re at the crash site now.

Pidge: That’s the robeast. It looks disabled, just like our intel reported. The Altean should be nearby.

Shiro: Paladins, brace for incoming!

Hunk: I didn’t know it could do that!

Keith: Take cover!

Shiro: Paladins, report! We’ve lost visual. Bridge, lock onto that ship now!

Curtis: Yes, Captain. Adjusting to long-range parameters. Locked on!

Shiro: Light it up!

Curtis: Direct hit!

Lance: Nice shot, Atlas!

Hunk: Yeah, thanks for the cover!

Shiro: Bridge, stay on alert.

[Cut to the Altean viewscreen of Pidge’s point of view through her helmet.]

Allura: Stand by, Atlas. We’re approaching the ship.

Hunk: Guys, there doesn’t seem to be a pilot inside.

Keith: Hey, guys. Over here.

Pidge: Keith’s found something. Let’s go! Give me a second. Just reconfiguring to this barrier’s isometric frequency. There! That should do it.

Keith: Atlas, our target is acquired.

Overlapping voices: Yippee! Alright! Yeah!

Shiro: Great job, everyone!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through another hallway.]

Rizavi: We just got word that the Paladins have returned from their mission. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of this new Altean.

Kinkade: This’ll be the sixth Altean pilot we’ve recovered from the powered-down robeasts left behind after Honerva escaped Oriande. Allura keeps trying, but she hasn’t been able to get any information from them as of yet.

[Camera cuts to Rizavi standing outside a room marked “Authorized Personnel Only”.]

Rizavi: Commander Shirogane said you two were needed on the bridge. We’ll cover your station.

Woman: Yes, Lieutenant.

Rizavi: There! Oh, man, I think we missed the beginning.

Romelle: Tavo, please. You and I grew up alongside one another. You must trust me. We’re here to help.

Tavo: We were told you are a traitor, and I can see now that it is true.

Allura: I’m done talking with him. I’m done with all of them.

Kinkade: Uh, what are you doing?

Rizavi: Sh! I got an idea.

Lance: Anything?

Allura: No. He was just like the others. A true believer in Honerva, and there’s nothing I can say that would make him think otherwise.

Lance: I’m sorry.

Allura: No, I am. These Alteans are the key to unlocking Honerva’s plan. They’re my people, but they won’t speak with me. You have no idea what it’s like to find out after ten thousand years that you’re not the last of your kind… only to be rejected by them.

Lance: I don’t. But I wish every day there were something I could do to change it all for you. You’ve suffered more than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. But still you persist. Through the pain, you inspire. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.

Kinkade: No, that’s private.

Rizavi: Kinkade, what are you doing? That was our love angle!

[Camera cuts out, then focuses in on Romelle’s face.]

Kinkade: Please don’t touch that.

Romelle: Oh, sorry.

Rizavi: So, Romelle, you know these Alteans from your time on the colony?

Romelle: Yes, I lived alongside them for many decaphoebs. They are good people.

Kinkade: What do you think would make them join forces with Honerva?

Romelle: I don’t know. But you must understand, my people were hunted nearly to extinction. They’re afraid. And this Honerva… she’s turned that fear to aggression. If there was just some way to get through to them.

[Cut to the mess hall.]

Griffin: I’ve never seen anything like it. All those tentacles… so nasty.

[Cut to the kitchen where Hunk is stirring something purple in a pan.]

Hunk: Oh, hey. You’re just in time. I was just about to add the yeast Colleen gave me. No, Bae Bae! Bad dog!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi sitting at a table with Allura.]

Kinkade: First off, thanks for doing this, Allura.

Allura: You’re welcome.

Rizavi: Maybe we can start with the Alteans we have aboard.

Allura: What about them? They’re on the wrong side of this war and they refuse to speak with me. There’s nothing else to say.

Rizavi: So, you’re frustrated?

Allura: Yes, I am. Oriande was destroyed, Lotor is back, and we aren’t any closer to tracking down Honerva. She’s out there, right now, planning something, preparing, and growing stronger. And we’re here flying around in circles, searching for Fraunhofer lines that don’t appear and scanning for wormhole signatures that don’t exist!

Rizavi: Do you think we’ll ever find Honerva?

Allura: No. I think she’ll find us.

[Camera cuts back to Hunk in the kitchen, this time wearing oven mitts.]

Hunk: Okay, it’s been a long day, but I’m finally done.

Kinkade: What is it?

Hunk: It’s an authentic Altean dessert! I’m gonna give it to the Alteans. Coran helped me with the recipe, but I think his memory was, like, a little bit fuzzy, so, you know, I did some improvising. No big whoop.

Kinkade: You did this for them? Why?

Hunk: Well, I don’t know. Because food has a way of reminding people of moments in time. That’s why I made a dessert. Usually, when you eat dessert, you’re pretty happy, right? Who knows? Maybe this’ll help those Alteans remember some moment that made them smile. Something before all this madness. That could go a long way in building a relationship. Well, that’s just what I think.

[Cut to the Alteans in a holding cell as the camera zooms out and pans to face Hunk.]

Hunk: Please, eat. Look, it’s good! Mm, really!

Tavo: You made this? It reminds me of home.

Hunk: Well, I had a little help from someone born and raised on Altea. A-and I know you don’t wanna talk with them, but Allura and Coran know more about your homeland than anyone alive. They were on Altea until its final day. They both would’ve stayed and died to protect it if Alfor hadn’t sent them away. That’s how much they loved it.

Tavo: I heard Altea was one of the most beautiful places in the universe. Did your Alteans ever tell you about the zyo crystal springs outside of the capital? The stories say those cliffs were more beautiful than all of the stars combined.

Hunk: They never told me about them. But I’m sure they’d love to tell you themselves.

[Scene change to Kinkade sitting in casual clothes facing the camera.]

Kinkade: This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 2300 hours. Day forty-seven aboard the IGF-Atlas is officially done.

End.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Bank Shot Job

leverage 1.05

I decided I’m also going to start highlighting meta material in these posts for reference reasons (like for fics, headcanons, meta, etc)

I’m colorcoading by what character the meta pertains to btw

Clerk: Hello, Judge Roy.

Judge Roy: [slaps her ass] Hey, sweetheart.

Frank: Can I help you, your honor?

Judge Roy: Yes, Fred. Her phone number?

Frank: It's Frank. And she's 19, sir.

Judge Roy: That's too bad. She got a younger sister

diSgUsTiNG

- - - - -

Hardison: No. No more. We gotta talk to Nate. No more rip deals. They take too damn long.

Parker (ripping paper): That's why they're called "Rip Deals". You have to convince them they're getting a deal before you can rip them off.

Hardison: Two weeks. Two weeks sleeping in crappy hotels. Two weeks eating in crappy diners. Two weeks having my soul sucked dry. It's 107 degrees. Who lives where it's 107 degrees?

Parker: Juan's not so bad. I kinda like this town

I wanna see that domestic shit of them sharing hotel rooms and eating the continental breakfasts and dingy diners and everything about them living in rundown hotels for two weeks

- - - - -

Hardison: You know, I had to retask two satellites just to get a lousy internet connection. Took more than an hour to torrent the last episode of Doctor Who.

Parker: Hey! Illegal downloading's wrong. (lights paper on fire in trash can)

that’s it. that’s their relationship.

- - - - -

Hardison: How we coming on the breakdown?

Eliot (loading truck elsewhere): Fake addresses are shut down. Post office boxes are closed. The phones are cleared. Five more minutes, we never existed

bruh those props ??? I wish I had a screenshot but wtf where they DOING for the con ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Want me to call the Delgado family, tell them the news?

Eliot: Nah. Soon as I clear county line I want to do it. I just wish we could do more than bankrupt that corrupt son of a bitch

eliot is so good you guys im-

- - - - -

Nate: Get out. Now.

Hardison: Is he talking to us?

Parker: An unmarked van parked across the street from a bank that's being robbed? Yeah. I think he's talking to us.

Hardison: Yeah, well, five more feet and he would have been in the clear. What the hell was he thinking?

Parker: Don't be an idiot, Hardison.

Hardison: What?

Parker: Sophie was still in there

parker knows nate loves sophie and would never leave her behind because she may not always get people, but even she can see how much nate cares for sophie

- - - - -

Derrick: Everyone empty your pockets. Wallets, purses, watches, everything you've got, throw it over here.

(everyone throwing stuff to center of floor)

nate threw his fucking toothpick

- - - - -

Deputy Arnold: No, right here, right here, and we need ...

(Eliot crosses police line)

Deputy Arnold: Whoa, whoa, I need you to take a step back, sir.

Eliot: Tell me what's going on in there.

Deputy Arnold: I'm afraid I can't do that, this is an active crime scene, and you need to ...

Eliot: (to cop) I'm not talking to you. (to Nate) How many are there?

Nate: Yeah, you're right. Clearly amateurs, these two. Yeah. The younger one, looks like he's never handled a gun before.

Eliot: Is judge blow-hard next to you?

Nate: Yeah, uh-huh. Yeah, definitely amateurs, That's what makes them so dangerous.

Eliot: Alright, 2 guys, both armed, neither one a criminal mastermind. You want me in there?

Deputy Arnold: Sir, we can't have you going inside the bank ...

Nate: Probably, uh, a good idea just to sit tight, don't you think? You know, and see where these guys' heads are

at, you know?

Eliot (backing away): Alright, your call boss.

Deputy Arnold: Thank you

poor deputy arnold + eliot being done with local law enforcement

- - - - -

Sophie: Okay. So what is the plan, Stan

“what’s the plan, stan” adorable.

- - - - -

(Eliot leans against a building across the street and watches Hardison and Parker pull up in a sedan)

Eliot: Nice ride.

Parker (taking notebook and removing badges): It's embarrassing. Everyone knows you don't rob a bank without an exit strategy. These two deserve to get caught. 42 seconds. (tosses notebook back to Eliot)

Hardison: What?

Parker: To rob this bank. One security guard who has never fired his gun before, 2 closed-circiut cameras outside, 1 inside, and a Glen-Reader safe built in the 50's whose default combination is the birth date of the manager's wife! Get in, get out, 42 seconds.

Hardison: Seriously

parker was so angry that she chucked the binder at eliot and he was like ??? we good ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Seriously? (to Bill) I'm Agent Leonard. This is Agent Elmore. We'll be taking over this crime scene,

Sheriff ...

Bill: Bill Hastings. Nice to meet you. You guys sure are quick, just called this in 20 minutes ago.

Hardison: Well, we were coming back from a little border skirmish. Patrol unit came under attack from a pack of Chupacabras.

Bill: Chupacabras? I thought those things were urban legend.

Hardison: You're adorable

I love it when hardison fucks with people it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Hardison: Whoa, what's going on?

Bill: Cut power to the bank. Standard operating procedure.

Hardison: Standard ... it's standard op ... it's standard? Where do you getting that bull-hockey from son?

Bill: Deputy Arnold, he took a seminar in crisis management last year.

Deputy Arnold: It was an online seminar. We got certificates.

Hardison: Certificates? Magic kits come with certificates. Does that make it cool for kids to saw their parents in half?

Bill: We're just going by the book.

Hardison: The ... the book? The book got a good man killed. I can't ... my blood pressure.

Parker: Ex-partner. Probably shouldn't mention the book again. Or propellers.

parker is doing so well with grifting considering and I’m so proud of her

- - - - -

Sophie: They are not cops, I promise you, they're friends of mine, you can trust them.

Derrick: Why should I trust you? I don't know who you are.

Sophie: I am a thief.

Derrick: Okay, I'm not sure what to do with that.

that’s it guys. that’s the show.

- - - - -

Nate: I didn't say it was going to be easy. But nothing's impossible, especially when you have the world's greatest thief on your payroll. Parker, have you ever robbed a bank that's being robbed?

Parker: There's a first time for everything.

her SMILE YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Parker: The bank was built before 1980, before computers. Means it's got a larger than normal night deposit chute.

Hardison: 'Cause business had to drop off ledgers with their daily hauls. What, you thought my genius was only limited to ones and zeroes?

Parker: I'm thinking the chute's my way in. Only problem is, it's in the alley on this side of the building

the way she looks at hardison like damn boy you know my stuff

- - - - -

Hardison: I can take care of that, but, we actually have bigger problems.

Eliot: What's that?

Hardison: Well, Sheriff Coltrane over here called the FBI, the real FBI. Now the closes office is in San Diego, so they should be here, in about, um, give it 45 minutes.

Nate: We can't worry about that now.

Hardison: When do we worry about it?

Nate: In about 45 minutes

hardison, internally: lord give me strength

- - - - -

Hardison: Hold on ... Excuse me. (answers phone) Agent Leonard. We will do whatever you need us to do, just please, don't hurt anybody. Okay. (hangs up) Guys ... Boys, boys, come on, gather 'round. Now boys, that was THE call. The call we were waiting for. Now look, they have a list of demands. First off, they want 12 large pizzas. One cheese, one Hawaiian, extra pineapple. Two pepperoni and black olives, two meat lover's, t ... Seriously? Nobody's writing this down? Seriously? One triple-shot half-caf vanilla latte, tall,

(Parker goes down alley and opens deposit drop box)

Hardison: …three of the latest copies of the Hall and Oates CD. I know, right? Exciting stuff I didn't know they were coming out with a new one either. We're gonna need steaks. Steaks and a grill. They're trying to tailgate. Okay, they need your overalls, I don't know why. They need some kibbles n' bits, we need an Etch-A-Sketch, somebody in there likes to squiggle okay ... Are we good? Let's go people. Everybody. I need you guys moving. Everybody get out. Go. (hardison points at an officer) You stay. We need to talk about Hall & Oates.

I fucking loved this monologue,,, hardison is VERY GOOD at improvising

- - - - -

(Derrick opens night deposit box)

Parker: Hi.

Derrick (hands her the briefcase): There's a lot of money in there.

Parker: Yeah, I know.

Derrick: My wife's life depends on that money getting where it needs to go.

Parker: I understand. Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get

parker’s face softened and you can see that she understood. parker didn’t get people in the beginning of the show, and sure her values and ideas aren’t typical, but she was ALWAYS a good person. she cared and understood what was at risk and she consoled him.

also, this is yet another piece of evidence that parker was the main character all along!!! I’m not gonna go super into it because there are already posts out there about it, but she had three (3) episodes dedicated to her character in season one alone AND had her say what is basically the mission statement of the show here in this scene

- - - - -

Sophie: Things could be worse.

Nate: Worse than me getting shot and you blowing our cover?

Sophie: No, no, you're not gonna lay that crap on me. We wouldn't even be in this mess if you'd just walked out with the cash when you had the chance. I would've been fine.

Nate: I know.

Sophie: Yeah, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it a long time. Since way before I met you. I'm just saying.

Nate: Yeah, you're right.

Sophie: Okay

nate knows sophie is a strong independent woman and that is one of the only things I stan about him lol

- - - - -

Sophie: We lost communication.

Nate: Yeah, we did.

Sophie: Hardison, Parker, and Eliot ...

Nate: That's right, they are on their own. Yup.

they ended up doing great on their own, but also, can we acknowledge what a glow up it was building up to the rundown job ???

- - - - -

(Mom gets out of truck and tries to run)

Meth #2: Where the hell you think you're going, old lady? (pulls mom back) Where the hell you think you're g ...

Eliot (catches Meth #2’s arm): Hey, what smells like crank and screams like a girl? (Takes his gun and breaks his knee)

Meth #2: AAHH!

Eliot (kicks car door closed before Meth #3 can get out, empties the bullets from gun): That's the right answer. (throws gun into car at #3, hits #1 as he approaches) Come on. (fights #1, kicks door shut, beats #1 more, kicks door again) Stay in the car. (beats the hell out of #3 and #1, kneels down near mom and removes her gag)

Mom: Who are you?

Eliot: Well ma'am, we'd be the cavalry.

this entire fight scene always has me ROLLING it’s so funny

also I’m not sure if this should go on the List Of Non-Weapon Objects Eliot Uses As Weapons but eliot DID use the car door in the fight

- - - - -

Sophie: Just let the paramedics take him. The rest of us will stay.

Judge Roy: And give up my leverage

*sophie and nate look at each other*

both, internally: tHATS OUR WORD

- - - - -

Nate: Hey, listen. She's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright

Derrick: Your people ... they're good?

Nate: Yeah. The best.

nate’s smile when he says that??? proud dad alert

- - - - -

Sophie (looking at replay of tape): You're still a geek.

Judge Roy: They're trying to ruin me.

Hardison: Geek power, baby. Stay strong!

in other words: age of the geek, baby

also- kudos to 2008 hardison editing video like that. I can’t do that shit with today’s tech lmao

- - - - -

Bill: Go home now. Bank robbers are in custody, hostages are safe. FBI's got the whole thing wrapped up.

Taggert: Do you have any idea what?

Mcsweeten: Just go with it.

Deputy Arnold: Mr. FBI guys, can you help me here?

Bill: My, my. Look at this. Our local drug boys, both with outstanding warrants. It's incredible.

Taggert: Damn, we're good!

mcsweeten and taggert stumbling onto the leverage crew’s cons and directly profiting off of them is iconic. they have no idea. too pure for this world

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, thanks Parker.

Parker: Whatever.

Sophie: No. It was an excellent performance.

Parker: Yeah, I think I can act okay when I'm yelling at people and bossing them around.

Sophie: Well, it's a good start.

proud mom!sophie + grifting parker

Nate: Listen, we have to make sure we get the cash to the Delgado family. Ow!

Eliot (tending Nate’s wound): Oh! Settle down. You act like you've never been shot before.

Nate (glances at Sophie): So, uh, pizza boxes, huh?

Hardison: Yeah, I know, I know, You could have done better.

Nate: No, no, no. No I couldn't have.

eliot casually stitching up nate’s wound bc no hospitals but also can we talk about how much nate has to trust eliot to literally operate on him

+

nate giving praise to hardison ??? rare af I don’t know her

[maggyoutthere]

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility  now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"

[ficbitxc]

Trapped With You

Chapter 3  I  Chapter 2   I  Chapter 4   I  masterlist 

this is a criminal minds series I’m making about falling love with Spencer Reid

summary: Their date :)

word count: 1550

warnings: none :)

authors note: I feel like this one kind of sucks sorry 

     The next  morning I woke up a nervous mess. Tomorrow was my coffee date with Spencer. I was furious at him! How could he make me so nervous by just asking me for coffee! I turned on my phone and was surprised to see a text from him. I thought he didn’t like technology?      “Hey, it's Spencer. I'm sorry I'm gonna have to cancel our lunch date tomorrow.  Something came up. How about dinner instead?” I read it slowly. A smile spread across my face. I threw my phone on my bed and flailed my hands around. I just couldn’t keep holding all my emotions inside. They had to come out somehow.      I picked my phone back up. Even though I had a weird combination of emotions (including nervousness, excitement, happiness, and maybe a little embarrassment over the flailing hands thing), I still had to act cool over the phone. I didn’t want to seem too crazy yet.      “You better make it up to me in more ways than one ;) Just give me a time and a place, I’ll show” I typed back. I read it a few times before sending it. I hoped it wasn’t too much, but being bold felt like the right option for Spencer. I set my phone down and went to make coffee. I couldn’t just keep staring at it waiting for a response. Keeping myself busy helped with my nerves. I couldn’t believe I sent that. My stomach pinged with an ounce of regret.      As I grabbed my mug, now filled with black coffee, I went back to my room and picked up my phone. A text notification chimed as soon as I looked on the screen. Like I suspected, it was Spencer.      “Be careful what you wish for Mae, in some instances, it might just come true. Lolita's at 8 tonight?” I read it one more time to make sure I had read it right. I smiled, glad I wasn’t the only one who thought being bold was the right way to go.      “Lolita's it is” I typed back. Excitement filled me. Our date just became a day sooner. Only 12 hours away! I wasn’t sure how i was going to focus on my work at all today with this information.      I grabbed my laptop and started working, only stopping for snacks and bathroom breaks. Once 6 rolled around I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to start getting ready, or I was sure something was going to explode! I shaved and washed every part of my body. I wasn’t expecting to get to 3rd, but hell if I wasn’t going to be ready for it. I got out of the shower and defused my dark brown hair, making sure my curls framed my face in the most flattering way possible.      I started with my makeup soon after. Spencer really didn’t seem like the type to like big makeup looks, so I kept it casual. Mascara, concealer, blush, highlighter, and bronzer were the only products I used. I looked in the mirror. I looked pretty, not beautiful or striking, but pretty.      Finally I had to pick out an outfit. Lolita's was a casual place. I didn’t want to go over the top dressing up. I searched through my closet until finally I found what I was looking for. A brown corduroy skirt, with an over sized yellow turtleneck sweater, tucked in. The outfit looked a little too plain, so I put on a belt that made me look like I had an hourglass figure.      I looked at the time and it was already 7:30. I must’ve spent more time in the shower than I thought I did. Lolita's was about 25 minutes away from my house and I wanted to be a little early, so I wouldn’t give the impression of always being late, even if it was true. I rushed to put on my socks and shoes, deciding my old skool vans would do, and ran to my car.      By the time I got to the restaurant it was already 8:02. I decided to act like I was trying to be ‘fashionably late’ rather than actually late. I opened the door to the restaurant and saw Spencer sitting on a bench inside. He was wearing brown pants with white button up shirt and a red tie, similar to what he was wearing when I saw him last. It must be his work clothes.     He looked like he had fallen asleep , not even noticing when I took the seat next to him. I guess it didn’t matter what kind of late I was. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he jerked away like I scared him, his hand finding the side of his leg, but there wasn’t anything there.      “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you!” I was slightly embarrassed. Scaring him on our first date. Good one Mae.      “Oh no no,” Spencer rubbed his eyes, “I must've fallen asleep or something, I haven’t slept that well the past few days.”      “Oh. We can always reschedule if you want? You do seem a little tired.”      “Noo, I’m fine. Missing a date with you would be worse than getting no sleep. Let’s get a table?” He replied. I tried to hide the pink starting to form on my cheeks and nodded. I walked with him up to the front of Lolita's where we followed a waiter to a booth next to a big window. I could see my car from where we were sitting.      “Have you ever been here before?” He asked as I flipped through the menu.      “Yes I have. I usually order this sandwich,” I said pointing to it’s spot on the menu, “I'm guessing you have too, since you picked the place.”      “Yes. I come here all the time during my lunch break at work with my coworkers. My office is only five minutes away.” He explained.      “Oh, really? Where do you work at?” I questioned.       “I’m actually an FBI agent. A profiler.” My eyes widened. Now I really believed this guy was too good to be true. He was a certified genius and in the FBI! My mouth opened to say something, but I was interrupted by the waiter. I ordered water as a drink and Spencer copied my order. We both already knew what we wanted, so we ordered our food too. Once the waiter disappeared into the kitchen, my attention fell back onto Spencer.      “Ever since I was little I always wanted to work for the FBI. It always seemed like such a cool job.” I admitted. Spencer’s eyes looked at his lap while he started talking.      “That's what I used to think. It’s a lot more darkness than I anticipated. I’ve almost quit several times, but I’m not sure what I would do with myself if I quit.”      “Is it that bad? What exactly do you do?” I questioned.      “Can we talk about it later? Maybe at our next date?” A smile spread across my face. There was going to be a next date, “what do you do, then? You seem to know so much about me but I know nothing about you.”      “I actually work for myself, in my own apartment. I design websites and stuff. Your everyday programming needs are left for me,” I chuckled, “ That was actually my plan to get into the FBI. I’ve heard so many times that if you can hack into them, then they’d offer you a job. I always chickened out with that plan though.”      “That's funny. A member of my team, Penelope Garcia, got into the FBI that exact way. I bet you guys would make good friends, she always talks about how annoying it is that none of us ever understand her computer talk. I may be a genius but I never found it helpful to learn about computer languages.”      “Maybe you can introduce us one day. I am in need for some new friend,” I joked. With that, our food came out and we started eating. The rest of the night was filled with jokes and getting to know each other questions. It was probably the best date I’ve ever been on, like I’ve known Spencer my whole life. We stayed long after we finished our food, both dreading the night ending.      “Are you ready to get out of here?” I asked, “If you want you can come to my apartment. I just don’t want this night to be over.”      “I’d love to. Text me your address and we can both drive our cars, so one of our vehicles doesn’t get stuck here overnight.”      “You got it.” I said as I did what he asked. Even though he mentioned taking both cars, he still followed me to mine. I was about to ask why, until he opened the drivers door for me. For the hundredth time tonight, a smile crept onto my face. I thanked him as I sat down.      “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” He smiled as he gently shut the door. Before starting my car, I watched him walk to his. Spencer really was the man of my dreams. This time, I didn't have to hope. I knew the feeling was mutual. 

[yasbxxgie]

Why Octavia E Butler’s novels are so relevant today

It’s campaign season in the US, and a charismatic dark horse is running with the slogan ‘make America great again’. According to his opponent, he’s a demagogue; a rabble-rouser; a hypocrite. When his supporters form mobs and burn people to death, he condemns their violence “in such mild language that his people are free to hear what they want to hear”. He accuses, without grounds, whole groups of people of being rapists and drug dealers. How much of this rhetoric he actually believes and how much he spouts “just because he knows the value of dividing in order to conquer and to rule” is at once debatable, and increasingly beside the point, as he strives to return the country to a “simpler” bygone era that never actually existed.

More like this:

-        The 1968 novel that predicted today

-        The fiction that predicted space travel

-        The story of cannibalism that came true

You might think he sounds familiar – but the character in question is Texas Senator Andrew Steele Jarret, the fictional presidential candidate who storms to victory in a dystopian science-fiction novel titled Parable of the Talents. Written by Octavia E Butler, it was published in 1998, two decades before the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States.

Like much of her writing, Butler’s book was a warning about where the US and humanity in general might be heading. In some respects, we’ve beaten her to it: a sequel to 1993’s Parable of the Sower, Parable of the Talents is set in what is still the future, 2032. While its vision is extreme, there is plenty that feels within the bounds of possibility: resources are increasingly scarce, the planet is boiling, religious fundamentalism is rife, the middle classes live in walled-off enclaves. The novel’s protagonist, a black woman like the author herself, fears that Jarret’s authoritarianism will only worsen matters.

Fourteen years after her early death, Butler’s reputation is soaring. Her predictions about the direction that US politics would take, and the slogan that would help speed it there, are certainly uncanny. But that wasn’t all she foresaw. She challenged traditional gender identity, telling a story about a pregnant man in Bloodchild and envisaging shape-shifting, sex-changing characters in Wild Seed. Her interest in hybridity and the adaptation of the human race, which she explored in her Xenogenesis trilogy, anticipated non-fiction works by the likes of Yuval Noah Harari. Concerns about topics including climate change and the pharmaceutical industry resonate even more powerfully now than when she wove them into her work.

And of course, by virtue of her gender and ethnicity, she was striving to smash genre assumptions about writers – and readers – so ingrained that in 1987, her publisher still insisted on putting two white women on the jacket of her novel Dawn, whose main character is black. She also helped reshape fantasy and sci-fi, bringing to them naturalism as well as characters like herself. And when she won the prestigious MacArthur ‘genius’ grant in 1995, it was a first for any science-fiction writer.

Octavia Estelle Butler was born on 22 June 1947. Her father, a shoeshiner, died when she was very young, and she was raised by her mother, a maid, in Pasadena, California. As an only child, Butler began entertaining herself by telling stories when she was just four. Later, tall for her age and painfully shy, growing up in an era of segregation and conformity, that same storytelling urge became an escape route. She read, too, hungrily and in spite of her dyslexia. Her mother – who herself had been allowed only a scant few years of schooling – took her to get a library card, and would bring back cast-off books from the homes she cleaned.

An alternate future

Through fiction, Butler learnt to imagine an alternate future to the drab-seeming life that was envisioned for her: wife, mother, secretary. “I fantasised living impossible, but interesting lives – magical lives in which I could fly like Superman, communicate with animals, control people’s minds”, she wrote in 1999. She was 12 when she discovered science fiction, the genre that would draw her most powerfully as a writer. “It appealed to me more, even, than fantasy because it required more thought, more research into things that fascinated me,” she explained. Even as a young girl, those sources of fascination ranged from botany and palaeontology to astronomy. She wasn’t a particularly good student, she said, but she was “an avid one”.

After high school, Butler went on to graduate from Pasadena City College with an Associates of Arts degree in 1968. Throughout the 1970s, she honed her craft as a writer, finding, through a class with the Screen Writers’ Guild Open Door Program, a mentor in sci-fi veteran Harlan Ellison, and then selling her first story while attending the Clarion Science Fiction Writer’s Workshop. Supporting herself variously as a dishwasher, telemarketer and inspector at a crisp factory, she would wake at 2am to write. After five years of rejection slips, she sold her first novel, Patternmaster, in 1975, and when it was published the following year, critics praised its well-built plot and refreshingly progressive heroine. It imagines a distant future in which humanity has evolved into three distinct genetic groups, the dominant one telepathic, and introduces themes of hierarchy and community that would come to define her work. It also spawned a series, with two more books, Mind of My Mind and Survivor, following before the decade’s end.

With the $1,750 advance that Survivor earnt her, Butler took a trip east to Maryland, the setting for a novel she wanted to write about a young black woman who travels back in time to the Deep South of 19th-Century America. Having lived her entire life on the West Coast, she travelled by cross-country bus, and it was during a three-hour wait at a bus station that she wrote the first and last chapters of what would become Kindred. It was published in 1979 and remains her best-known book.

The 1980s would bring a string of awards, including two Hugos, the science-fiction awards first established in 1953. They also saw the publication of her Xenogenesis trilogy, which was spurred by talk of ‘winnable nuclear war’ during the arms race, and probes the idea that humanity’s hierarchical nature is a fatal flaw.The books also respond to debates about human genetic engineering and captive breeding programs for endangered species.

In her author photos, Butler appears a serious woman with an exceptionally penetrating gaze. At a talk she gave in Washington DC in 1991, later reported in the radical feminist periodical, Off Our Backs, she offered a fuller description of herself: “comfortably asocial – a hermit in the middle of Los Angeles – a pessimist if I’m not careful, a feminist, a black, a former Baptist, an oil-and-water combination of ambition, laziness, certainty and drive”.

That certainty and drive can be seen in papers from her archive, now housed at the Huntington Library. In 1998, some motivational notes written on the back of a ring-bound writing pad begin “I shall be a bestselling writer!” She goes on: “I will find the way to do this! So be it! See to it!” Elsewhere, she’s to be found urging herself to “tell stories filled with facts. Make people touch and taste and know. Make people feel! Feel! Feel!”

Butler died in 2006, following a fall near her home in Washington state. Though she had begun suffering from writer’s block and depression, caused in part by medication for her high blood pressure, she’d continued to teach, and in 2005, had been inducted into Chicago State University’s international black writers hall of fame. She published a novel that year, too, Fledgling, whose vampire heroine must avenge a vicious attack, and rebuild her life and family. By then, her books had been translated into 10 languages, selling more than 1 million copies altogether.

In the years since, her fanbase has only grown. It turns out that she didn’t invent the campaign slogan beloved by Trump. It was used by Ronald Reagan in his 1980 presidential campaign, and later by Bill Clinton, although later he described the phrase as a “racist dog whistle to white southerners”. Nevertheless, as Tarshia L Stanley, dean of the school of humanities, arts and sciences at St Catherine University, notes, when readers spotted during the 2016 US election that Butler had chosen the slogan for Jarret, it “jarred people into recognising that she’s been doing this work all along. She’d been trying to tell us that if we do not make changes, this is what’s going to happen. She constantly gave that message: this is the logical conclusion if we keep treading down this path. I think when people saw that phrase, it started a whole new group of people reading her work.”

Butler’s work is today the subject of fan fiction, television adaptations (there are at least two in the works), and lively attention on college campuses, where it’s read from perspectives as varied as critical race theory, Afrofuturism, black feminism, queer theory and disability studies. Stanley, who last year edited the essay collection Approaches to Teaching the Works of Octavia E Butler, is also president of a society dedicated to the author. Its membership is broad, she says, but the most gratifying surprise is how many young people Butler’s work is engaging. At the inaugural conference, there was even a panel of high-school kids.

What would Butler have made of the present political moment in the US? “I don’t think she would have been surprised”, Stanley says. She puts Butler’s ability to envisage our future down to a deep understanding of human nature – knowledge gained from having the role of outsider foisted on her in girlhood. This she backed up with research, reading journals including Scientific American, listening to lectures, travelling as far as the Amazon. For Stanley, the one lesson to take from Butler’s work is hope. “World building is huge in her canon, and so there is always hope that since we built this world, we can build another one.”

There’s a scene in Parable of the Sower when the best friend of heroine Lauren Olamina insists “Books aren’t going to save us”. Lauren replies: “Use your imagination,” telling her to search her family’s bookshelves for anything that might come in handy. “Any kind of survival information from encyclopedias, biographies, anything that helps you learn,” she goes on. "Even some fiction might be useful".

Butler’s novels are just that kind of fiction. The child who began writing as a means of escape, ended up crafting potent calls to socio-political action that seem ever more pertinent to our survival as a species.

Parable of the Sower, Parable of the Talents, and other books by Octavia Butler are published by Headline.

[fmr]

[donnerpartyofone]

#3

I don’t ever remember feeling good. I don’t mean to say that I’ve never had moments of happiness, that I don’t love my friends, that I regret getting married; I’m not denying that I’ve had the opportunity to pursue passions in life, or that I feel incredibly lucky to have led my privileged life. I mean that I wanted to kill myself when I was a really little kid. I suffer from an incredibly detailed long term memory that goes back before I reached the age of two, and what I remember about childhood is the scathing heat of embarrassment, itching under a layer of cold sweat, revulsion at the hideousness and impracticality of my own body, horror at a world that was ugly, dirty, cheap, boring and airless, a world that was all these things and that required mandatory participation, a factory that makes nothing. I vacillated between mindless rage, and violent sobbing, which I indulged on purpose in pursuit of catharsis. There wasn’t much that I wanted, because everything seemed so repulsive. The main thing was that I wanted to be left alone, and unseen. Each morning I would wake up gripped by panic, because I knew that once I left my bedroom to come to breakfast, everyone was going to look at me. It would take me what felt like hours to work up the nerve to open the door, and when I did I would begin to scream “DON’T LOOK AT ME! DON’T LOOK AT ME!” like a toddler version of Frank Booth. It’s pretty hilarious to think about, but the truth is that I still feel like doing that every time I show up somewhere.

My earliest memory is of my mother trying to take my picture. It took place in an apartment I couldn’t exactly place, so at first I thought it must have been a dream. I was very little, but I understood enough about what the camera meant--that I was being stared at. I turned away, and was repositioned; then I tried to run away. My mother chased me, increasingly infuriated, until I was cornered behind the hilariously prison-like bars of my crib, where she could photograph me whether I liked it or not. I eventually found the resulting picture of myself agonizing behind the crib, confirming that I remembered being about one-and-a-half, living in an apartment before the house I grew up in. The memory serves as something like a metaphor for everything I have been afraid of--helplessness, captivity, surveillance, and of course, my mother.

There is no doubt that I had a serious chemical problem that caused my catastrophic rages and suicidal ideation, even so early in life. (I would find out about that...well, just a few years ago) But, lest I fall into the trap that therapy so often creates--the belief that everything that is wrong with you is within your own power to change, that sadness and anger are only the result of your own bad attitude, which just needs an adjustment--I have to admit that there is something within all this about my mother. I have traditionally categorized this particular woe as a void of maternal relationship. My mother and I “didn’t get along” or “didn’t really relate”, and then before I was old enough for us to have our first adult conversation, she was dead. As I teased out some anecdotal details of our absence from each other’s lives with my first therapist, that doctor once started one of our sessions by blithely declaring, “So you say your mother hated you!” Actually I never said that, but thanks for illuminating things so brightly, you...fucking asshole. Ironically, one of the things I didn’t like about this young, attractive, waspy therapist was that her Kelly Bundy-ish work attire made it impossible for me to bring up any anxieties I had around my own attractiveness, or my alienation from the rest of my gender. The alienation from the rest of my gender that had certainly begun with my alienation from my mother.

I don’t remember a single nurturing, initiatory experience with my mother. I had my first period young, and when I naturally went to her for help--well, to be fair, I probably told her that I more or less understood how things went, but I still think we probably should have had a longer conversation than just her telling me not to flush maxi pads down the toilet, and coolly dismissing me. I remember the first time I tried on makeup, her makeup of course; as soon as she spotted me, she asked “Are you wearing makeup?” in this razor sharp tone, and scowled at me until I followed her unspoken instruction to go to the bathroom, wash my face, and send myself to my room. Again, no further discussion of makeup, clothing, or general womanhood issues ensued. Similarly, I remember a day when I had become just old enough to pick out some of my own clothes. We went shopping for underwear, and every model she suggested, I just wanted in black. I didn’t realize what kind of rage this was stoking in her until she suddenly snapped, “DON’T YOU WANT ANYTHING OTHER THAN BLACK?” and spun away from me. I had no idea what rule I was breaking to deserve this, although the truth is that probably some primitive part of me understood that it was kind of a sexual problem. In the following years I developed into a huge comic book nerd, spending almost all my time copying what I didn’t really know were pretty sleazy pinup images of female characters out of X-Men comics. I had an inkling that these were sort of horny-looking, but I was really attracted to the drawings, which were heavily cross-hatched and compulsively detailed, according to the predominant style of the '90s. That kind of intense, microscopic linework has always attracted me, and one day I stupidly asked my mother, an artist herself, what she thought of a certain drawing I was studying. Most unfortunately, it was of the White Queen, a really idiotic character whose costume is essentially lingerie. What really interested me about it was the linework, but my hopes of discussing art were dashed when my mother spat “I THINK IT’S BORDERLINE PORNOGRAPHY!” and promptly stormed off. That probably would have been a pretty good time for her to talk with her insecure, confused eleven year old girlchild about feminism, body positivity, or any of the other facts of being a woman that I desperately needed to hear. I didn’t get any of that either when, around the same time, I started trying to talk to her about feeling fat and ugly, and she just threw a diet book at me. When I remember my mother, I most immediately remember the back of her head.

This all makes my mother sound like some sort of tyrannical throwback housewife, but none one would have told you that about her. Mom was “cool”. A playfully subversive hippie painter from Brown who loved kitsch and camp, she filled our house with old pulp novels, 3D horror comics, bootlegs of Mystery Science Theater 3000, tapes of Warhol’s Frankenstein and Dracula. She was a striking dresser, imperiously intelligent, and brutally funny. She was outrageously popular among everyone who knew her. The strange truth, though, was that while she had the outward appearance of a mischievous hipster on the cutting edge of culture, on the inside she had a rigid resistance to anything she considered psychologically or emotionally abnormal. Sadness and frustration were unacceptable, antisocial qualities, inconveniences that were grounds for rejection. So, as if she’d been cursed by a spiteful witch, instead of having a fun, affectionate, curious, creative mini-me, her first born turned out to be a taciturn suicide case, constantly quivering with fear and rage--the ultimate in uncoolness. I have a recollection of being around 12 and complaining to her about a friend of mine who was (also) sort of a drip and a drama queen. My mother’s advice to me was to say to my difficult friend, “I’m sorry you feel that way,” which is a clever way of expressing sympathy while giving no credit at all to the sources of the person’s pain. Even at that young age, I kind of thought...hey wait a minute, that’s exactly what she’s been saying to me!

Lest anyone think of her as some sort of roundly superior specimen, I can also say that she was sort of a nerd. She had a huge number of allergies, and also asthma, which she passed on to my brother and me. (And ironically, my lifelong snorting and snuffling and sneezing became one of the many things about me that visibly disgusted her) This, combined with my father’s amorphous environmental illnesses (see: the brilliant Todd Haynes movie SAFE), compelled my parents to try to move house. When I was about 11, we moved across our grimy, depressed city to a much bigger house in a nicer neighborhood. Shortly after we got settled, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. Her doctor’s advice was to go home and make her peace, immediately, but she shocked everyone by surviving for at least another three years. When people hear that, they always respond as if it must have been some sort of beautiful miracle. No one who has lived with the dying could think this. Our lives turned into NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, quickly and consistently, every day a frank, unromantic confrontation with mortality, until it was over.

What could I possibly feel? This person who was a virtual stranger to me, who didn’t like me, who turned into a rotting corpse in front of me, had died in agony. Instead of trying to raise a happy, healthy person, she had sat back expecting me to seduce her, and I had failed. So, I didn’t know what the loss of her really meant. I would never understand anything about maternity, and I would never figure out anything about being a woman that I didn’t ultimately make up for myself. The only thing I really knew about first hand was death. I didn’t understand much of anything about my mother’s actual biological reality, because no one really communicated with me about it, but I knew for sure that the human body is a bunch of bullshit and there is just no reason to be precious about it, ever. Unfortunately, one is never left in dignified solitude with their own interpretation of death. Death is a curse that befalls the living, who are then suddenly and disproportionately responsible for each other’s feelings. This is never more true than when you physically resemble the dead. You become everybody’s confessor, the person with whom they try to relive their experience with the living, and you better be nice about it--even if you are technically more entitled to grief and resentment and anguish than anybody in the room. And of course, this was never more true than with someone who had always frightened me more than my mother: my mother’s mother.

[janephillipsblog]

One Yellow Rabbit’s 33rd Annual High Performance Rodeo

This year I decided to sign up as a volunteer, mostly as an usher, for the High Performance Rodeo which is a three week long international theatre festival, hosted by One Yellow Rabbit. I takes place here in Calgary every January and this year it was the 33rd year. I signed up for a lot of shows right away as the spots fill up fast.

Just before the festival began, I attended a volunteer session. Though I was late (my acting class ran over time), it was great as they went over all the shows (I found more that I wanted to see – somehow I had missed that Scott Thompson of Kids in the Hall was part of the line up), gave out door prizes (I was not lucky that day) and there were complimentary drinks and snacks (including wine and beer).

My first usher shift was on the second day of the festival, January 10, and was for Pearle Harbour’s Chautauqua. It was sold out, so I almost did not get to see the show, but in the end there was room for the volunteers. Billed as “Part Cabaret, Part Tent Revival, All Drag”, this show was a unique, intimate and interactive experience created and performed by Justin Miller as Pearle Harbour, an all-American gal and World War II stewardess. I loved its originality and the pace of the show kept the audience engaged throughout. I was so engaged that when I left the tent, I forgot I was an usher with a duty to pick up empty cups around the seats. Oops!  

My second usher shift was on January 11 and was for How to Self-Suspend, written and performed by Mx Katie Sly. The piece promised to be provocative, thought-provoking and boundary pushing. We ushers were told that people may need to leave the space at some point (a few did) due to the subject matter dealing with trauma, abuse, pain, and sex. How to Self-Suspend is a performed memoir following Mx Sly escaping an abusive childhood in Montreal through to the discovery of their sexuality, gender-fluidity and eventually wholeness within themselves in the rope bondage scenes of Toronto and Vancouver. Mx Sly is a compelling storyteller who I found very likeable, which for me made the difficult subject matter easier to handle.

After a four day break I returned to the Rodeo to usher for Live Your Prime, with Damien Frost by the One Yellow Rabbit ensemble featuring Denise Clarke, Andy Curtis and John Murrell. This was a very fun and light-hearted show about an older man who had rose to fame starting with his book “Live Your Prime” and who now tours the country as a self-help guru with his son, Damien Jr. and wife, Darlene, a family who on the surface look like they have life figured out, but perhaps all is not what it seems. I loved the staging and the limited use of three, brightly coloured armchairs to create the various scenes. At the end of the festival, there were books for sale, including a lot of scripts by Canadian playwrights. With too many plays to choose from, I stuck this “non-fiction”. I bought copies of “Theatre of the Unimpressed” by Jordan Tannahill and Denise Clarke’s “The Big Secret Book”. After the festival, I got the chance to attend a talk at Poole Lawyers with Denise Clarke and so I got it signed there. Denise’s talk was about the book, Damien Frost, her life and One Yellow Rabbit which was very interesting and inspiring. My friend Denise (too many Denises!) and I had a nice chat with her afterwards too.

Crawlspace, written and performed from Karen Hines, was brilliant. The play is an account of her true- life real estate nightmare in 2006, after she purchased a tiny house in Toronto. Throughout the play, I empathized with Karen on many levels. Having worked as a REALTOR® now for nearly 12 years, I know that a real estate transaction really is all about caveat emptor (buyer beware). I have my own dead animals in houses stories (luckily not in my own residence) and I know the stressfulness of having to deal with pests and problems with the home (in my case, due to my own neglect). I also completely felt for Karen as she described how the home put her tens of thousands of dollars in debt and the traps that credit card companies created with their ever-increasing credit limits. Very inspiring and to think I almost didn’t get to see this play: first because the usher shift I signed up for was cancelled, then I was put on as an ambassador but this week warned that because it was sold out I would probably not get to see the play. I ended up doing coat check but there was room for all the ushers to watch the show so I was thrilled.

My fifth show to volunteer at was God’s Lake presented by A Castlereigh Theatre Project and Sage Theatre at the Pumphouse Theatres. The play, a work of documentary theatre, featured four actors playing members of the remote fly-in community of God’s Lake Narrows, Manitoba, following the murder of a young 15-year-old girl. The script is taken verbatim from actual interviews conducted in the community in 2017. I found this a raw and emotional piece and through the words of the community, it brought an understanding of the complex issues of life on the reserve and perhaps began to answer questions as to how a First Nations community can be torn apart by the cold-blooded murder of one of its youth. At each performance of a show during the High Performance Rodeo, a territorial acknowledgement of the Treaty 7 region is given and for this one, it was by a First Nations Elder. The performance ended with an Honour Song in which we all rose to our feet and then a short speech by the Elder indicating that as with a ceremony it is time to leave those negative thoughts with the Grandfathers and Grandmothers.

The sixth show for me was bug presented by the Manidoons Collective, written and performed by Yolanda Bonnell. The performance took place at the West Village Theatre in Sunalta and I loved how the stage was set up as if in a gathering with the audience all around. This one-woman performance was about indigenous women navigating addiction and inter-generational trauma. I found Yolanda Bonnell to be an extremely compelling and unique storyteller. At times, the story she wove was in places hard to watch and all emotional, however not without humour.  

Into the final week of the Rodeo and the first show of the week for me was Café Daughter by Kenneth T. Williams, presented by Alberta Theatre Projects, starring Tiffany Ayalik and directed by Lisa C. Ravensbergen. Inspired by the early life of The Honourable Dr. Lillian Eva Quan Dyck, Café Daughter is a coming of age story about a young woman of mixed heritage (part Cree, part Chinese) growing up in Canada in the 1950s and 1960s. Filled with humour, though in parts it was emotional, I felt that this show was amazing and so well done. Tiffany Ayalik, as the sole performer, commanded the stage not only as the main storyteller, Yvette Wong, but also as all the other characters in Yvette’s life. Her physicality was awesome and I was in awe of how she smoothly transitioned between all these characters and brought them all to life.

Hammered Hamlet was a completely different experience. Presented by The Shakespeare Company and Hit and Myth Productions at the Legion, three out of the five actors downed four shots of whiskey before the show with the encouragement of the audience. This show was a total riot – what a great way to present Shakespeare! The show was supposed to only be 90 minutes with the intermission and ended up being more than two hours! I actually wished I hadn’t ushered for this one, as I think it would have been more fun to watch after a couple of drinks.

And now for something completely different…….Cow Love! Created and performed by Federico Robledo and Nanda Suc for the Société Protectrice de Petites Idées from Guingamp, France, this was 50 minutes of offbeat physical comedy. It combined acrobatics, dance, slapstick and pantomime and was thoroughly enjoyable to watch.

Macbeth Muet played at the Pumphouse Theatres on the same days as Cow Love. As both were only about 60 minutes long and both works of physical comedy, the plays were scheduled so a patron could watch them on the same night if they wanted too. As an usher, I watched them on different nights. For Macbeth Muet¸ I knew, when I was instructed to tell people that the show contains eggs and blood, that we were in for treat. Created by Marie-Hélène Bélanger, Jon Lachlan Stewart, and of course, the Bard himself, this was unique retelling of the Scottish Play without spoken words and with only two actors (Jérémie Francoeur as Macbeth and Clara Prévost as Lady Macbeth) with some help from some homemade puppets. Another steller show that I have been lucky to attend and I loved the soundtrack.

A about this time in the festival, the days are starting to meld together. A couple that came to see Cow Love on the evening I ushered for Macbeth Muet, I recognized, but thought they had attended the previous evening’s performance of Cow Love, when it actually was from Hammered Hamlet which was earlier in the week. They also were at Après de Deluge: The Buddy Cole Monologues when I was ushering for that.

The last show, for me, of the Rodeo, was Après le Deluge: The Buddy Cole Monologues, created and performed by Scott Thompson. Originally a regular Kids in the Hall character, it was a real treat to get to see it live. The Kids in the Hall was a show I got into as a teenager when I first arrived in Canada and Buddy Cole was one of my favourite characters. This show was definitely in my top three shows and as I type, my face still hurts from smiling and laughing so much. Just over halfway through, the microphone decided to play up, but Scott incorporated it in to his act. It was Buddy Cole that was having mic issues and being driven insane with sounding like he was speaking into a tin can. In the end he took off the mic (you don’t really need it anyways in the Big Secret Theatre).

After the show, Scott and his team were having a drink at the Laycraft Lounge next to the theatre as well. I thought about approaching him just to say how much I enjoyed the show, but I was too shy and just headed home with the books I had bought, though I didn’t realize I had left behind my water bottle until the train was making its way through downtown.

And so that was my first experience of the One Yellow Rabbit High Performance Rodeo. What a fantastic, but busy, three weeks. I did not see every show that was a part of the festival and there were some recurring events that I did not experience this year such as the 10-Minute Play Festival and The Veronicas (an award show where everyone wins). Of the shows I did see, I did not see one bad show, they were all unique, well done and fabulous to watch. I loved how some shows – How to Self-Suspend, Crawlspace and Bug were examples of how artists had “taken their broken heart and made art”. Generally, I was most impressed with the one-person shows, with the performer’s ability to command the space and keep the audience engaged the entire time. My top three shows for this year’s festival were Café Daughter, Après le Deluge: The Buddy Cole Monologues, and Crawlspace.

I am already excited about next year!

[littleredroseonthevalley]

An Opera on Separation - Chapter 15

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | CH. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 |

Summary: It is the end of term for the teachers at Lydia Child. Zig has a special surprise for Emily. An undesirable presence looms the Park Avenue apartment, though. How Queenie and Nathan will deal with the newcomer?

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2028

Notes: A Christmas chapter to give some relief (and to mock, as in Cape Town not only is cold, but it’s also raining like nobody’s business) for my dearest Northern Hemisphere readers.

Reblog, please. Enjoy.

Santa’s Coming For Us

“And we’re done!” Marietta shut her notebook, signalling the end of the arduous meeting. “Congratulations, everyone, for this term. Now, let us trade gifts and dig onto that pizza. I swear to God, it’s been singing my name for the last hour.”

The teachers clapped animatedly, relieved for their two-week break, and then they served themselves each a piece of pizza from the spread by one side of the room.

Emily had spent most of the evening next to the elderly Mr. Smith, discussing his classes, programs and students, in preparation for his retirement at the end of the school year. As for Zig, he was at the opposite end of the room, fidgeting with his hands and the edges of his shirt in a clear display of nerves.

“Someone should talk with Mr. Ortega.” Mr. Smith noted, with a grave note of concern. “Look at the boy! He’s pale as a sheet!”

Emily followed his line of sight and Zig did look like if he was about to pass out at any minute. She excused herself from the elderly teacher and walked over to the Latino man.

“Hey.” She says. “Are you okay? You look ill.”

He laughed off-tone. “Me? Ill? Nope! Not at all! I feel as healthy as a horse!”

“Are you sure?” The woman presses on.

“Ms. Harper!” Marietta calls off behind her. “Take your seat, we’ll have our Secret Santa now!”

“In a moment, ma’am.” The redhead nodded.

She gave the young man a last appraising look and walked back to her chair with the rest of the English department.

“Now, since we’re all ready, we should begin.” Ms. Jones announces. “Ms. Harper, as you seem so eager, why don’t you begin?”

Blushing from being singled out, she coughs a little to prep her voice and starts the guessing game: “My Secret Santa…”

A few minutes in and the Secret Santa was in full swing, with petty trinkets, hugs and wishes for a great holiday season being traded around the room between the lecturers.

Somewhere around the middle of it, Zig had been drawn by a young Social Studies teacher who had gifted him a navy blue tie, on the fashion of those he uses every day for work.

He thanked the girl politely, albeit rather coldly, and loosened the one he was wearing to change to the one he was given.

Afterwards, the man stands up once more and clear his throat: “Er… my Secret Santa is a girl. She has red hair and is a little on the short side. She doesn’t like to be told that, but it’s the truth. She arrived to Lydia Child only this year, and it was a great surprise to me. I’ve known and respected her for so long, but it was just as long the last time I’d met her.

“The first time she ever taught was back in August, and you could see the nervousness on her eyes. I’d wager she thought the students were going to eat her.” The small joke elicit a few laughs from the audience. “But she raised above all the limitations, like we all did, and now she’s one of the most well-liked teachers in the school, and I didn’t doubt for a single minute that she would.

“I mean, y’all know, she has such a sunny disposition that only the most dedicated can manage to stay sour near her. It’s so annoying that you just can’t help to have your spirits lifted. And she’s dedicated, too! You had to see her, struggling with some math book just so she can help cover a subject I don’t even think she’s supposed to teach.

Zig sighed, a smile on his face. “If it isn’t clear enough, my Secret Santa is Emily Harper.”

Emily wiped a few tears off her eyes and ran to hug the man.

“No need to cry.” He whispers on her ear, good-humoured.

“Don’t say all those pretty things about me and ask me not to cry!” She whispers back.

He chuckled. “C’mon, you didn’t even see your present yet.”

She let him go begrudgingly. He beamed at her and handed a small, neatly packed gift. “Careful opening it. It’s fragile.”

The redhead nodded and opened slowly and carefully the shining wrapping paper. It was a copy of the book ‘Out of Africa’, by Karen Blixen.

“Zig, I…” She started to say, but was cut off by him.

“Open it.” The Latino asked of her.

The young woman obeyed, and at the first page another gasp. It was a quote and a signature.

“Le temps nous prive de beaucoup de biens précieux, et, pour finir, il nous prive de tout.

K. Blixen

København, January 15th, 1960”

“I remember you have a collection of signed copies, and that Out of Africa was one of your favourite books.” He says, with a mischievous grin. “So, I called a few people and found a used books store that had that one in stock. It’s from one of the last public appearances by Karen Blixen. It seems that the last owner of this copy knew somebody who knew somebody who scored it for him.”

Emily could do nothing but cry and hug Zig tightly.

While the party was in full swing at Lydia Child, a certain commercial airplane landed in Newark.

Inside, sat a woman in her late 60’s who was currently enjoying a flute of champagne. Her eyes were a chilly, sterile blue, framed by some age markers of someone who did not bother to hide them.

She was rather tall, especially for her age, and combined with the full, puffy blond mane on her head gave her the imposing and sophisticated look of a high-society lady.

A simple diamond necklace, the only piece of jewellery she carried, adorned her black dress. Beige pantyhose and a sensible, also black, heel covered her lean legs.

After landing and baggage reclaim, she did a beeline to the glass doors of the airport, where a fancy, yet non-descript car waited patiently for her.

“You know where we’re going.” She told the driver. “Step on it.”

A man who sat next to her on the backseat chuckled. “You’ll never change, will you, Lois?”

“What do you mean?” She demands.

“You say ‘efficient communication’, but it’s actually you being brash, demanding and indifferent.” He smirks. “Have you ever said thank you in your life?”

Lois laughs as if it was one big joke. “You’re one to tell.”

“Birds of the same feather, I suppose.” He considered. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.” She said, turning on her cell phone.

The man smirks. “Indeed, let me rephrase. What do you expect to achieve with it?”

“I expect to recover what’s mine. And perhaps knocking some sense into that stupid, empty head.”

Sometime around 10:00 PM, Emily finally got to the entrance door of the Sterlings’ apartment, feeling ready for a good night’s sleep.

The sight she encounter at the kitchen, however, wasn’t very conductive to resting.

“Surprise!” Queenie and Nathan shout, surprising the young redhead. The two of them wore party hats and the whole room was dripping with tacky ‘happy birthday’ décor.

“I’m sorry about the ‘Feliz Cumpleaños’ theme. The store had no ‘Congratulations on your first half-versary at the job’ so we had to improvise.” Queenie said with a laughter.

“But the cake’s legit.” Nathan presented the dessert, the phrase ‘#1 Teach’ was frosted on it. “Done it myself, dark chocolate and coffee beans, hope you like it!”

“Oh my God, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” The youngest beamed and hugged her mother. “And, yeah, Nathan, I love chocolate and coffee beans. It was the cake you baked me for my birthday between Junior and Senior years.”

He laughs, sheepish. “I’m pretty sure I asked the maid to order me one, but I’m glad you liked it then and I’m glad you like it now.”

“Come on, let’s dig in!” Queenie picks up a plate and a knife, ready to carve the cake into shreds.

“No, wait. Let me at least freshen up.” Emily asks. “I’ve been on this dress all day long and I could use a pair of slippers.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll accompany you.” The mother smiled kindly and then pointed the knife at the man. “Do not dare to eat the cake before we’re back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, I’ll eat three kilograms of cake while you’re changing. I’ll even lick the plate clean.”

The older woman shot him a dirty look, but followed her daughter away with no further words. Nathan looked over to the decorated table and saw that Emily had forgotten to take her book bag back to her room.

He picked it up and he was going to take it there for her when a particular volume called upon his attention. It was an old, battered copy of ‘Out of Africa’. The blond took the book out to check it out in close quarters.

It was not a library issue, certainly, and it was not any of his, either. He did not remember any book boxes when Emily and Queenie moved in, so it must be a new purchase.

Opening the volume, he sees the Karen Blixen signature and wonder whether the bookseller was a moron or if Emily had the pretty penny to afford such a luxury.

It was when a small envelope falls out from the book pages. It was, by itself, nothing special, as it was white and only addressed to Emily in scrawny cursive.

Nathan checks the hallway to see if there was anyone coming. Having the coast clear, he opens the stationary.

What he reads puts him on a foul mood. It was a love letter, from Zig to Emily, asking for her forgiveness for his brash behaviour their last encounter and reiterating his intent. He was probably who gave Emily the book, in fact.

Nathan had to admit, the baboon had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Considering the letter was sealed when he found it, he assumes Emily had not found it yet, and therefore he could make it disappear. The two women were yet to emerge from the bedroom; they’d be none the wiser.

It was his first instinct, the blond had to admit. But something contained his hand, a foggy thought he could not make much sense of it, a feeling it would bring only misery if he went on with it.

He decided to put the letter back where he found it.

“Oh, there’s where I left it!” Emily exclaims, entering the kitchen.

“I was about to take it to your room.” The man handed her the bag. “What’s with the vintage copy?”

“Zig gave it to me tonight. I used to collect signed copies, and Out of Africa is one of my favourite books.” She beamed, happy.

“You used to? What happened?” The blond wondered out loud.

The redhead woman sighed. “You kept my books after we divorced.”

“No, I did not.” He shook his head. “The only books we had at home were on my study, and those were mine.”

“Do you remember the shelves by the guest room, on the third floor?” She asks, and he nods his affirmative. “Those were my collection.”

An icy chill ran through the man’s spine. He let Ashley-Amber throw them all away while she was ‘remodelling’ the house. He didn’t even think of checking what was on that particular set of shelves, he just assumed that were assorted titles of no importance other than decorative value, like every other at his parents’ houses.

Nathan had to hand it to himself; he really screwed up with Emily’s life. So much so, he should call the Guinness Book and check if they keep tally of those. He could be sitting on a world record.

Before he could say anything else, they hear a noise at the entrance door. Not dwelling much about it, them both walked out to the living room to check on it.

“Mother!” Nathan exclaims.

Standing by the doorway, Lois Sterling smirks, dangerously. “I am back.”

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An Opera on Separation - Masterlist

Taglist: @alicars; @boneandfur; @choicesfannatalie; @diamond-dreamland; @emerald-bijou; @kennaxval; @liam-rhys; @liamxs-world; @lizeboredom; @mfackenthal; @moodygrip; @mrsdrakewalkerblog; @radiantrosemary; @topsyturvy-dream

[the-most-beautiful-broom]

Bellarke, number 27: "as a suggestion" please please

Write a kiss…as a suggestion 

“If I knew it was going to take this long, I’d have picked the lock myself.”

Clarke let out a frustrated huff of air, her hands stilling on the safe as she turned to cast a glare at the man behind her. Agent Blake was pacing, his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his expression unapologetic.

She’d been approached by the FBI a week ago; they’d asked her to lend a civilian assist in the Wallace case. They needed to get into a Fundraiser Gala, held at the Wallace estate, and as the daughter of the other Massachusetts senator, Clarke was as solid a cover as The Bureau could hope for. She also happened to have the lightest fingers east of the Mississippi, and had worked for Uncle Sam on two dozen cases like this, when their own men couldn’t feel break the safes she could, a fact which Agent Blake seemed to keep forgetting.

“It’s not some bicycle lock,” Clarke muttered, turning back to the safe, her gloved fingers careful on the dial, “although if that’s the FBI’s mentality, it explains why you have to keep calling me to do this for you. One mistake, and iron bars drop and all the bells go off.”

She hated this dress.

It was pretty enough, sure, but it was made to be seen, admired, and not for squatting on the floor of Senator Dante’s office, with a Federal Agent breathing down her neck.

Although, to be fair, as far as federal agents went, Blake wasn’t bad.

She’d worked with plenty of mouth breathers, who assumed she was only a civilian asset because of her mother’s title, or her appearance, and Agent Blake had been decently respect since he’d met her three hours ago. And, objectively, he had the prettiest eyes she’d seen in a while, and his smattering of freckles and deep voice made her dress feel a little tighter…objectively.

“If I listened to rumors, I’d say you weren’t unfamiliar with iron bars,” Agent Blake muttered, and Clarke’s jaw clenched, happy thoughts disintegrating. Everybody knew her delinquent past, but few people had the audacity to throw it in her face. 

She spun the dial again, trying to ignore the barb and needing to refocus.

“This would go a lot faster if you weren’t stomping around,” she said tightly, closing her eyes and trying to feel the catch of the combination.

She heard him mutter something and she pursed her lips, losing her place and spinning the dial again. “I’m not kidding, Blake, I need silence if I’m going to—”

“I know,” he said, his voice tense, “that’s why I don’t stomp.”

Clarke froze.

If he wasn’t stomping, then who…

She looked over at the door, her pulse skipping as she saw the shadow of two feet outside the office door.

“I thought your guys said we had fifteen minutes between guards’ rounds,” she whispered.

“We do,” Agent Blake said, his voice low and his eyes scanning the room as he looked for places to hide, “but they’re early.”

The handle on the door jiggled as the lock caught and Clarke swallowed nervously. “If they catch us in here, that’s a mark against you and a subpoena for me.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his eyes still searching the room.

A radio crackled just outside the door, and someone knocked sharply, three times. “Senator Wallace?”

“How do they know someone’s in here?” Clarke whispered.

”Can you get out the window?”

They spoke at the same time and Clarke’s jaw actually dropped. “Are you serious?”

The agent’s eyes flashed. “Yeah; one of us has to do our jobs tonight.”

“I was doing my job just fine,” she hissed, pulling off her gloves and stuffing them into the minuscule handbag she’d been carrying around. “Until someone kept interrupting—”

“Yeah, well, I’m interrupting again: can you make it out the window?”

Clarke lifted her chin. “Of course I can, but there’s a patio below, and someone would definitely see us To Catch A Thief-ing our way out of her.”

The agent glowered at her as he strode quickly over to the window to look down it. “Is that that Cary Grant movie? Seriously?”

It was, and it was one of her favorites.

Clarke lifted her chin. “Regardless, looks like neither of us is doing our job right if you can’t get us out of this.”

“We have to do the window,” he said, shrugging out of his suit jacket.

It was a very nice jacket, well-made and well-tailored, but Clarke had to say, she’d always loved a man in rolled up shirtsleeves.

Again, objectively.

“I can hear you in there; open up!”

Clarke’s head snapped back to the door, with the three knocks, then she turned back to the agent, who swore under his breath.

The agent looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. “The window,” he said evenly.

“We can’t do the window; he’s heard us in here. They’ll be looking for us.”

“I can get us out of here.”

Clarke shook her head. “Not like that, you can’t.”

“Well, do you have a better suggestion?”

Another three sharp raps on the door.

His question hung on the air between them and Clarke bit her lip. She hated cliches, but this really was the only way…

She kicked off her shoes, and lifted a hand to her hair, pulling out a couple bobby pins. “What’s your first name?”

The agent blinked.

“Your name,” she said evenly, moving over to the door, “And for goodness’ sake, get away from the window. The desk, in front of it, that’s fine.”

Understanding dawned and he shook his head. “Clarke, that’s not a good—”

“He’s knocked three times, each time,” she said, knowing she was right, “It beats falling out a window and getting tased by security guards as they chase us, okay? It might not be the The Bureau’s way, but it’s going to get us out of this, I promise.”

He still didn’t look convinced, and his jaw was working nervously, and if Clarke wasn’t just thinking we have to get out of this, she probably would’ve found that endearing. But as it was, she shook her head, so some of her hair fell, and waited for the agent to come around the desk. He dropped his jacket by her shoes and she smirked at that.

“Nice touch,” she muttered, and he almost smiled.

“It’s Bellamy,” he said offhandedly, and it took Clarke a minute to make sense out of that, before it registered.

Of course it was.

But she had to focus, holding her breath, waiting by the door, trusting the way she read people. And it paid off.

The guard tried the door one more time, finding the handle stuck, and Clarke flipped the lock, timing it with his second knock, so the click was disguised by his banging on the door. She knew he’d try the handle again, out of habit and she just had to make sure that what he saw left no room for doubt.

That’s what she told herself, that the butterflies in her stomach were from nerves, that this agent was only for her cover, and that she was in no way affected.

When she got close to him, he looked straight up nervous, and Clarke’s head tilted slightly, almost fondly.

“I’ll be gentle,” she whispered, a bit if a challenge, and when the third knock sounded, she kissed him.

And it was nice, kissing him. Her hands on his jawline, framing his face and pulling him into her, then slipping back into his hair. His lips firm and full under hers, responding to her, beckoning her. He tasted like coffee, and something deeper, richer, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, press her body up against him.

His hands were on her hips, then, and Clarke realized she wasn’t kissing him anymore, and that he was kissing her. His tongue darted out between his lips, and she opened for him without hesitation, breathless and excited and craving more of him. And maybe the door was opening and maybe someone coughed but when he pulled back, the only thing running through her mind was the thing she’d asked him, the thing she’d known to say, and she breathed his name.

“Bellamy.”

She opened her eyes in time to see his pulse jump in his throat as she said his name, and his fingers on her hips tightened. But there was a harsh light on his face, which meant the door was opened, the guard confused as to how the lock suddenly gave when the room’s only inhabitants were across the room, wrapped up in each other.

Right.

Clarke brushed her hair out of her face like she was flustered, bashful, overwhelmed, turned to the guard and started babbling. He recognized the Griffin princess as she stooped to pick up her heels, lilting apologies and pulling her besotted boyfriend out of the Senators office. He shook his head and let them go, and Clarke kept up the steady stream of words until she’d led Bellamy down the hall and out into the gala. She grabbed two champagne flutes as a waiter walked by with a tray, handing one to the agent, and finding him studying her.

“That worked,” he said at length, not necessarily sounding surprised, as much as like he was still processing.

Clarke lifted a shoulder. “Of course it did. Sometimes the best way to be invisible is to be unignorable.”

She wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it or not, but he’d pulled his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it between his teeth as he continued to stare at her. Like he was surprised, or intrigued, or both.

When he didn’t say anything, Clarke clinked her glass against his, before taking a small sip, watching with growing amusement when he copied her gesture subconsciously.

“So,” she said brightly, when some of the golden liquid had left the glass, before he swallowed, “Round two once the guards have finished their rounds?”

He choked.

Clarke knew her delight was evident and he glared at her when another waiter appeared with some napkins for him.

“Getting the documents, I mean,” Clarke corrected innocently, once the waiter had slipped back into the crowd and Bellamy’s breathing had returned to normal.

“I think,” he said, good-natured humor shining through his voice, “that you and I have different definitions of gentle.”

Clarke grinned, lifting her glass as a salute. She’d drink to that.

more kisses 

[benedictgolde]

The Athens Marathon

Day 12

Clear, clean and crisp; my favourite weather and time coming together in a sweet combination to make this morning’s 8 miler the perfect start of the week. With that in mind, today’s blog post is going to be another running story. This time of my first marathon: Athens 2015. 

(Today’s miles - featuring a silly hat.)

It was early 2015 and the band were touring the UK. We were in Brighton and had arrived early, deciding to head to the beach in our pre-show time to take in the sea air. That same day had been the Brighton Marathon so the beach front was swarming with finisher t-shirts, bright shiny medals and some funny looking walking (post-marathon legs). Muss and me, both being into running, started a conversation about completing a marathon being on both our bucket lists. The atmosphere in Brighton felt electric and you could see the accomplishment beaming on people’s faces. We both agreed that we should just enter one, and not just any marathon – one that was in an adventurous place that neither of us had ever been. 

After a quick search on the internet, we had decided on the Athens marathon; it was far enough away that both of us could train for it, it was a place neither of us had ever been and it’s called the ‘authentic’ marathon as it is the very place in which the marathon distance originates from. It ticked all the boxes. Prior to entering, I’d never really adhered to any formal training plan. I would typically run 5/6 times a week but would rarely track distance or time. The furthest I’d ran at that point was about 10 miles, so I went about getting a proper training plan that included nutrition in order to clock up the mileage. This is when running really became more than just a casual hobby for me, the start of what has developed into a huge part of who I am now. 

About 4/5 months, many training miles and a couple of hundred bowls of porridge later, a leaner and (sort-of) marathon trained version of me was boarding the flight to Athens, with both Muss and his brother. In the lead-up to the race I’d gotten quite nervous, suddenly realizing the task that was in front of me. My longest training run had been a 22 miler and I’d made the decision to just run and see what time I came in. 

At the time, I was unaware of what I was capable of in running as well as not being too bothered seeing that it was my first marathon. We boarded the flight slightly giddy with nerves and I distinctly remember us all joking about who would end up on the bus. The bus being an actual bus that picks up any stragglers who have failed to complete the course in the cut off time, which is typically something like 7 hours. Muss’ brother seemed concerned, although you would have to walk at a relatively slow pace for the entire 26.2 miles in order to stand any chance of being on the bus. We arrived in Athens and headed straight for the Expo, the atmosphere took me right back to Brighton, if not even being more charged as this time we were taking part – plus we were in Greece. Athens is an absolutely stunning city. If you haven’t been before, then I seriously recommend it. It might even be the best city I’ve been to in Europe so far. The expo was full of excitement, we collected our numbers and took a nervous pre-race picture. That evening we decided to take it easy as the race was the following morning. We went out for a nice meal and a small walk around our hostel’s area, which was perfectly situated bang in the centre of Athens – an easy 5 minute walk from the finish line on normal legs (it took me a good 15 post-marathon). A few more jokes about the bus were thrown around. Due to the time difference, our bodies were about 3 hours behind, which meant the 5am alarm came as a bit more of a shock than anticipated. The Athens marathon route means that you have to get a coach to the town of Marathon and then you run the 26.2 miles back to Athens, finishing in the Panathinaiko Stadium. The coach journey took a while, which was sort of expected, all I could think in my mind was the fact that if it took that long in a coach, then imagine what it would feel like on the feet. Upon arriving at the race village in the sports stadium within Marathon, my nerves turned to pure excitement. The sun was just popping its head over the mountains as we started our pre-race warm ups. At the time, I wasn’t that clued up to what a warm up entailed so we sort of just jogged around the track with all the other runners - if in doubt, copy everybody else. 

Before we knew it, we were on the start line and the gun had sounded. The song How Deep Is Your Love by Calvin Harris was playing as we crossed the start; that song always taking me right back to that moment. The first thing I noticed was how many people had decided to immediately stop for a quick toilet break, just metres over the start line. All those nerves, I guess. I felt nothing but strong throughout the whole race. My mind was so focused on the moment that I didn’t even consider the fact I was running 26 miles, fully consumed in my stride. 

For my nutrition, I’d opted for using what was provided at the feed stations - the segment of banana at the half way point was nothing but pure joy. There’s nothing quite like the taste of food when your body is in need of it. The course was pure beauty, the temperature was good and the atmosphere was amazing. Every little Greek town we passed through was full of spectators shouting “bravo, bravo” as we trod on by. 

(All that hair, and the nose ring...)

As we rounded off into the city, I distinctly remember feeling quite emotional at mile 24. There’s definitely something about running long distances that evokes the emotive part of your brain. Running into the stadium was nothing short of incredible – if you watch the little video I made, I swear a lot because I was in disbelief that I was finishing and all those months of training were coming to a close. As I said earlier, at the time I wasn’t much of a runner in terms of time etc, but it was after this marathon that I really got into it and started to reach the PB’s I’ve managed to achieve. 

Anybody who has completed a marathon will know how it feels when you cross the finish line and you take those first few steps at walking pace. Oh my does it come as a shock. Your legs don’t work properly for a good few days after and stairs become your worst nightmare – particularly walking down them. Muss, his brother and myself celebrated well that night, proceeding to have some of the most memorable few days of my entire life. For whatever reason, later on that night, we decided to try and run up acropolis – the term ‘recovery’ jog could be used but we were just being silly. 

I think everyone should have a go at the Marathon at some point in their life. Especially if you are a runner or someone who enjoys running. There is something about knowing you’ve completed a distance like that, which makes other areas of life feel a lot easier. There’s also something about knowing you’ve done something a lot of others haven’t, it makes you feel just a little smug.

I love running. I’m not sure that you’ve been able to tell from reading these posts? Anyway, 12 days in – that’s almost half way. How time flies! Peace & love. BG

[klcthebookworm]

Mission on Mimban 9 of 12

Previous Installments

Introduction, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven,Eight,

What Happens in the Chapter

Chapter Nine opens with Luke and Leia's chat as they walk down the tunnel. Luke thinks of a new plan, but Leia dismisses Halla as a delusional old woman who wants the Kaiburr crystal to defeat Grammel. Luke brings up having to find it before Governor Essada and his people. Leia shudders, and Luke asks what could have happened on the Death Star to affect her so. Leia does not tell him. They find the linchen-fungi that glows in the dark, so they don't need to use their lumas. The underground is a wonderland of multicolored stalactites, an underground stream, a bottomless pond, a miniature forest of helicites, cantilevered mushrooms, and a tall stand of something resembling paralyzed bamboo encased in quartz that ring when struck.

Just when Leia's come around on her opinion of Mimban "If Mimban is ever settled formally, everyone should live underground," the ground shatters under her feet and Luke has to pull her out of the new pit. They pass on smooching, despite the obvious set-up for it. They continue on with the spelunking, testing the ground with the lightsaber and holding hands as they forge on. The path ends at the shore of a vast underground lake, so wide that they could not see the far shore.

We have a nice bit of problem solving as they figure out how to make a raft out of a leprous lily that grows where the underground steam meets this lake and paddles out of selenite crystals. With those preparations made, they make camp and both pass out from exhaustion.

They wake up after twelve hours of sleep and the concentrates for breakfast now taste good. They slide the pad-boat into the water and start paddling. They hug the wall on their left, where the path had vanished into the water. Eventually Luke's imagined terrors subside and he wonders about Leia if the experiences they'd gone through so far on Mimban had had a mellowing effect on her. Leia's common sense has not been affected as she shoots down Luke's offer to do all the paddling.

Several hours after lunch, Luke calls a halt to the paddling. He's nervous about a pop-plop sound, too erratic to be drip water from the ceiling. Everything goes quiet and they resume paddling. When Luke calls a second stop upon hearing the strange sound again, Leia sees and is rendered speechless by a trail of fat bubbles that was arrowing rapidly toward them.

Luke fights the lake monster with his lightsaber, and falls into the water. Leia gets into a tug-of-war with the lake monster with Luke as the rope. Finally the monster gets tired of lightsaber hits and leaves them alone. Leia has a nice screaming fit after Luke is safely onboard the pad-boat again.

After several more luckily uneventful hours paddling, the far shore finally comes into view.

An ancient dock protruded from the dry ground ahead. While no boats of any kind were in sight, the long finger of metal extending out into the water left no doubt as to its function, its alien design notwithstanding.

Luke had less luck identifying the purposes of the numerous structures clustered all along the shore. Many appeared raised from stone, others had metal walls, and some combinations of both materials. No matter what the compositions, every one displayed signs of considerable age.

The lake is not a new feature underground if the ancient and vanished Thrella built a dock. Leia refuses to get her feet wet when they reach waist-deep water, so Luke carries her the rest of the way. She apologizes for her behavior and reveals she can't swim. They hike through the abandoned city and Luke keeps having the something is watching me sensation. He turns around to follow movement he saw out of the corner of his eye and ends up cutting the Coway behind them in half. Five more block their path ahead. Leia arms herself with a broken stalactite and wields it like a dagger.

Despite the odds in numbers, this is such an uneven fight it's almost funny. Luke slices up two of their spears. Leia dodges the third spear, trips him with her legs, and then stabs him in the skull. One Coway switches to an axe and gets his legs cut off with the lightsaber. Another with a spear loses his spear hand at the wrist. The last one jabs at Luke with his spear so Luke cuts off the spear point. He throws the shaft at Luke and runs away. Leia's last opponent keeps her at bay with his spear and retreats when he sees Luke approaching. Luke takes him out by throwing his activated lightsaber in the Coway's back.

Meanwhile, the smartest of the Coway is running uphill and climbing over a huge pile of rubble from the ceiling. Leia upgrades her weapon choice to one of the axes of the dead Coway and flings it at the runner. She scores a hit on his right shoulder. He tumbles down the other side of the rocks and they climb after him, desperate to keep him from alerting others. The chapter ends with Luke and Leia staring down at what is on the other side.

What I Liked

The water [of the underground lake] was as black as the inside of the Emperor's mind. Yeah, a description that a) feels Star Wars and b) something that Luke would think of! And I do believe this is our first hint that the Emperor is the evil heart of the Empire. To double check my belief, I found the 1976 hardback of the first movie's novelization published by Del Rey Books in my library. I believe my father bought it and it found its way onto my shelves next to the paperback novelizations of the next two that I bought at used books stores. I replaced these copies with a 2015 Books-A-Million edition that put all three in one hardback, but I wondered if they had edited to reflect what we know from the prequels. Surprisingly, they did not change the Prologue between the two editions. Here's the passage that described the Emperor of the Galaxy:

Aided and abetted by restless, power-hungry individuals within the government, and the massive organs of commerce, the ambitious Senator Palpatine caused himself to be elected President of the Republic. He promised to reunite the disaffected among the people and to restore the remembered glory of the Republic.

Once secure in office he declared himself Emperor, shutting himself away from the populace. Soon he was controlled by the very assistants and boot-lickers he had appointed to high office, and the cries of the people for justice did not reach his ears.

Having exterminated through treachery and deception the Jedi Knights, guardians of justice in the galaxy, the Imperial governors and bureaucrats prepared to institute a reign of terror among the disheartened worlds of the galaxy. Many used the Imperial forces and the name of the increasingly isolated Emperor to further their own personal ambitions.

The Emperor we get in Empire Strike Back and Return of the Jedi is not this Palpatine described, and by the time we get to the prequels, the character is a Machiavellian devil. Don't get me wrong, I prefer my Palpatine as the Master of the Sith controlling the whole galaxy brought down low after twenty-ish years of complacency, miscalculating just how hard abused beings will fight back (including Anakin and the Rebellion in that), and failing to factor in the murderbears (Ewoks). I'm also tickled to find evidence of changes in motion, as it were.

No Virgin Alarms go off during this camping scene.

Crossing the lake has more of the in-character moments for me.

Out of excuses, he stared at the lake. "I hope this lake's not as wide as it looks. I don't like traveling on water."

"That's not surprising," soothed the Princess, knowing that on the desert world of Tatooine where Luke had been raised, an open body of water was as rare as an evergreen.

It took 194 pages in my paperback copy for Foster to finally remember Luke is from a damn desert! The resulting fears in Luke's mind are pretty good too, believable from someone who has never seen water like this before.

I like the lake monster encounter and its introduction.

It rose.

A pale amorphous form, shining with phosphorescence, in color it was not unlike the great wandrella. But compared to the lake-spirit the worm-thing was a familiar creature.

There was no face, nothing recognizable in that constantly altering form. It lifted short, thick pseudopods of a whitish substance clear of the surface. They gleamed brightly in the dim cavern light. Luke thought he could see partway through the creature, and strange shapes swirling about it internally.

I kind of hate that ILM didn't take a stab at this kind of monster. Nowadays it would be easiest to use CGI, so I'm curious as to what the old school approach for film would have tried instead.

What I Found Problematic

Given how Grammel treated you, Leia, I would think you'd be on board turning him into a frog. Sure, be skeptical that you can actually do that with the Force, but don't mock the old lady.

Luke asking about why Leia is freaking out over an Imperial interrogation and what happened to her on the Death Star doesn't bother me as much as his reaction. Leia charged out of her cell and took charge of her rescue and then he was thrown into the pilots' ready room. So it's perfectly reasonable that he missed her trauma until she fainted after Grammel told them about the Governor.

She turned memory-haunted eyes on him. "Maybe I'll tell you someday, Luke. Not now. I'm not... I haven't forgotten enough. If I told you I might remember too much."

"Don't you think I could take it," he asked tightly.

She hasten to correct him. "Oh not you, Luke, not you. It's me, my own reactions I'm worried about. Whenever I start trying to remember exactly what they did to me that time, I start to come apart."

And Luke immediately follows Leia's confession with a heartfelt apology for prying. No, that is not in the text at all. Leia changes the subject and they discover the lichen-fungi that glows underground. I'm torn about this characterization, because making the trauma survivor (typically a female) soothe who is prying into the trauma by making it all about themselves is such a common response. It's believable as written (shocker from Foster I know).

This dynamic needs to be drop-kicked into the sun.

So I want to rewrite this with an added apology from Luke. His empathy fueled by his Force Sensitivity should make it a lot easier for him to pick up on how badly Leia is still hurt by the Death Star events. He is in love with this woman, offer some damn comfort. But Leia won't be in my version.

This is the lamest just kiss I have ever seen written:

Rolling away from [the gaping blackness], the Princess caught him with a hand, her weight halting his slide. Now Luke rolled clear, came to a panting stop on her chest. For a long moment they lay like that, suspended in time. Then their eyes met with a gaze that could have penetrated light-years.

Err, is Luke on top or are they on their sides chest-to-chest? Not only am I having trouble visualizing them on the ground, this really needs Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher's expressive faces to make me feel it. Not that I really want to feel the twincest.

Wait a blooming second, where did all this equipment come from? After checking his timer he woke the Princess. You didn't have a time piece hiking to town. Luke checked his tracom. Okay, maybe you had that earlier when you were searching for the beacon, but why wasn't it named? Luke brought water from the stream in a collapsible cup. Why are we just now seeing this stuff when it should have been shown on the first hike in Chapter Two (Did they have incomplete survival packs because these things were not mentioned in the text there.) If they didn't have these things in Chapter Two, where is the text that says these items came from the swamp crawler? Who edited this work and never caught this inconsistency?

Why, Foster, why? I liked the battle with the lake monster, even if I think the lightsaber should have a bigger effect. But then you go and ruin it by making Leia scream after it's all over. Since when is Leia a screamer? Was it just a set up for this?

Her voice rose slightly. "I'm ready to get out."

"Believe me, Leia," he replied, taking her hand in his, "I'm in just as big a hurry as you."

This is Luke Skywalker, who hardly needs an excuse to give anyone comfort and would seize Leia's hand without her having hysterics. If anyone deserves to have hysterics it is HIM, our poor desert farmboy dragged underwater again by something trying to eat him. Hello PTSD flashback to the Death Star trash compactor.

Leia can't swim. This is information that should come up at the beginning of a journey over water not at the end. And even if she can't swim, stop being a wuss and get your feet wet. Because Leia is a lot of things but a wuss isn't one of them.

Interracial warfare, perhaps, or maybe sequential decadence ending in their being overwhelmed by aborigines like the greenies. I'm wondering about what happened to the ancient aliens of Mimban too, but damn the phrasing of this sentence just rubs me the wrong way.

That's not how lightsabers work! They have an automatic off switch. No throwing it at fleeing opponents and expecting it to remain on, unless you are using the Force to keep it on.

What Changes in My Fic

Showing better trauma victim support: Mara's trauma is so different from Leia and with the bond between her and Luke, I don't see this conversation even having the massive misstep of Luke making it all about him. What will they talk about during this hike?

Lumas will be changed to glow rods. And do a better job with explaining where the equipment comes from.

I want a line from Mara about how bad they are at keeping watch when they wake up.

The underground lake is a good opportunity to touch on what swimming lessons the Alliance has given Luke.

The lightsaber effects the lake monster. Unless it doesn't for the same reason lightsabers don't seem to boil water. Research this.

My revision of the after lake monster fight: Luke's clingy because oh-crap-I-could've-drowned! reaction has kicked in and Mara has pulled him back onboard. Mara discovers she's not opposed to clingy or more accurately hugging with Luke.

Plot events time. Helping Writers Become Authors further explains this breakdown. It probably hasn't escaped anyone's notice that the scenes in the past few chapters have not ended up on the outline. While thrilling obstacles to overcome, they have nothing to do with what I have identified as the plot: getting the Kaiburr crystal before Grammel does. When will we get back to that plot? I have no idea, but I decided to fill in these scenes under the Action section.

Hook 1% mark = Crashing onto Mimban

Set-up 1% - 12%

Inciting Event 12% mark = Finding the Imperial mining outpost

Build-up 12% - 25%

1st Plot Point 25% mark = Luke and Leia agree to find the Kaiburr crystal with Halla

Reaction to 1st Plot Point 25% - 37%

1st Pinch Point 37% mark = Meeting with Grammel

Realization 37% - 50%

Midpoint or 2nd Plot Point 50% mark = Prison break

Action 50% - 62% = Wandrella chase, Lake monster fight, Coway attack

2nd Pinch Point 62% mark

Renewed Push 62% - 75%

[dablesretrospective]

2010 - Dables - Pretty Ugly

Time to get back to what I created this tumblr for, which was blogging liner notes for the CDs I have released as Dables in order. This is Pretty Ugly, my 4th album and definitely the first Dables album most people heard because shortly after it came out is when I started performing regularly. During this era, 2009-2010, I was still performing solo, but instead of just playing improvised noise or electronic music, I started playing songs more songs from my albums using a set up similar to Ween or Big Black. I played electric guitar and sang while my Tascam Portastudio was plugged straight into the PA, playing the pre-recorded bass and drum machine parts. I played my first “electric” show this way in December 2009 in Fountain Inn, SC at a house party with Coma Cinema and it went over extremely well. I played mostly songs from the “14 Songs” album, and a few from this disc.

Released on February 3 2010, this album was conceived as a concept album to mix pretty pop songs with ugly noise songs. The idea was to go back and forth, first track being a pretty pop song, the next being an experimental or weird/off-putting/ugly noise song. The cover illustrates this concept with combining the beauty of a sunflower, placed in an ugly toilet. That is also actually my real toilet, from my parent’s house, with plastic flowers inside of it. I took the picture and sent it to my friend Victoria Ferrer, who runs The Black Lodge, a subculture get together at various local clubs. She edited it for me, writing the text on it and coloring the background around the toilet black, and turning the flowers red instead of yellow, and I think she did an absolutely fabulous job and I love her for it. My friend/occasional-partner-in-crime with Slacker Pop Records Micheal Keller, of the band Satan in Bondage, helped me put together the inner artwork including the lyrics, and he paid to help me print and make over 50 physical copies, and he helped distribute it so I also owe a huge thanks to him. Listening back to this album reminds me of what was going on in my life at the time. I was working at a Kangaroo Express gas station, and came in one day to find out my store manager and good friend Russell Folk had committed suicide the night before. I was extremely shocked and upset by this and I ended up walking out on my shift, and quitting the job on the spot. It was my first day back from a two week vacation and I couldn’t handle the responsibility of having to be the one to tell customers who came into the store who were asking me, “Where’s Russell?" all day so after about an hour of my shift, I just up and left. I went home and wrote "Song For Russell”, which didn’t make it onto this disc but ended up on a future one called “Stuff Volume 2”. I spent the next two weeks frantically recording songs to help escape from the depression caused by the death of such a close friend. I had known Russell for over 2 years, and saw him about 5 times a week and we had become very close. This disc is most definitely dedicated to his memory, and I recorded it as therapy to help cope with my first experience of death. Besides my great-grandmother, who I wasn’t very close to, Russell was the first person I knew well to die. I still miss him very much, and this disc will always remind me of him. Anyways, on to the songs themselves.

‘Boredumb’ is one of the most popular Dables songs. It has been performed at every single show since that first electric show December 2009. Funny that this one is such a fan favorite because it took me less than hour to write and record it to completion. However this song is sort of a loose rip-off musically of Flies on My Dick by Ween. It has minimal guitar, slow, plodding drum machine, monotone vocals, and quirky lead guitar breakdown just like that song does. Although I like to think I did my own thing with that formula and I wouldn’t say this song an out-right rip-off, just inspired by the formula of Ween.

'Sober and Bored’ was the first track recorded for this album and the title and music itself was inspired by The Boredoms.

'Hang Around’ came out extra poppy because The Beatles remasters had just came out and I was listening to them non-stop and wanted to do a song with “doo-wahs” vocals on it. Besides a short, sloppy, semi-solo on the song “Who Are You?” from Slacker Pop, this track was the first “real” guitar solo I ever put on a song and I’m still pretty proud of it and I think I nailed it on the second take. Prior to this, I was pretty opposed to doing guitar solos.  Never performed an electric version of this song live before, but I’ve played it at acoustic shows several times.

'Live Forever’ was my attempt to emulate The Melvins, although it sounds little like them. The odd lyric “I want to lick your knees” was inspired by a porno I saw where a girl was blowing a guy and said “I wanna lick your knees” and proceeded to lick his kneecaps for a few minutes. I thought that was odd and hilarious so I put it in this song. The lyric “I want to see the end cause you know it will start again” means that if a person were to live forever, they would witness the collapse of civilizations and empires, only to see them get rebuilt and start again.

Along with a fellow local band Hollow Body, 'An Exercise in Isolation’ as well as portions of 'Boredumb’ was later put on the soundtrack to local independent film, “WTF?”, a horror/comedy film made by Firefly Ink Productions about a group of people on a road trip who’s car breaks down and the person who picks them up off the side of the road who proceeds to slaughter them. Clips of the movie are available on youtube.

'This is Nothing’ was a bit of a jab at the poor work ethics of my fellow bandmates in my side-project DAN, about how they wanted to play shows really badly, but weren’t dedicated enough to practice regularly. Needless to say, DAN broke up about 6 months after Pretty Ugly came out after only playing 3 shows together, all but 1 were a disaster. Although we eventually made up and became friends again, after another year or two we fell back into the same drama and I haven’t spoken to either of them in about 7 years now and don’t plan on it either...but if either of them happen to read this, I have no hard feelings toward Sid and Clayton (there’s been too much drama and we can’t get along with each other anymore but I’m not mad at either of them) and I think the music we made together in DAN was some of the most creative and fun songs I’ve ever been a part of, and I’m proud of the recordings we made together and I wish them luck with their recent project, People of Mars.

'Loop 3’ is the third installment of tracks I create using my Boss Loop Station. The first one was on '14 Songs’, and the second was on 'Stuff Volume 1’. This is probably my least favorite and is definitely the laziest one and in hindsight should’ve been left off this album entirely. Loop 4 appears on the most recent self-titled album.

“She Don’t Dig Me” was the last song recorded for this album. This song was lyrics written probably 2 years prior that I never put music to. I lifted the vocal melody of this song from Get Me by Dinosaur Jr, although in the end it turned out  Listening back to it, the audio quality on this track is embarrassing, and I remember being very frustrated with mixing it, and eventually giving up and just releasing it as-is, with several glaring technical mistakes, that hopefully nobody can notice but me.

'108’ was an older recording, recorded shortly after finished 14 Songs, but was saved for this release. At 9 minutes and 32 seconds it is the longest track I have ever recorded.

------------------------------------

one pretty song, one ugly song. back and forth. that is the concept of Pretty Ugly. love and cringe as much as you can.                                                            

Released February 1, 2010                         All music written, performed, and recorded by David Walker Track 15 is a Daniel Johnston cover

1.Pretty Ugly 2.Boredumb 3.Did You See? 4.Sober and Bored 5.Hang Around 6.Live Forever 7.An Exercise in Isolation 8.An Exercise in Stupidity 9.This is Nothing 10.Loop 3 11.Mind’s Gone Blank 12.An Exercise in Laziness 13.Afterglow 14.She Don’t Dig Me 15.True Love Will Find You in The End 16.108

Download this album for free at:

https://dables.bandcamp.com/album/pretty-ugly