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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 6 months ago

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tuesday again 5/21/2024

get a load of this cat

listening

one of my favorite bands, Joywave, dropped a new album last week! it is not my favorite album of theirs but so it goes. perhaps it needs more time to grow on me. Sleepytime Fantasy kicks off my favorite section of the album. video game enchanted ice cave dream sequence music.

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i must stay true to my own rules for this series (not a rec series, genuinely what i've been into the most this week) and the song that's been on loop all week is a genshin impact character's theme music (punchy wolf-coded ice cop who is the duke of the prison he. runs? administers? don't worry about it). unfortunately a bop. the character music lately has been a lot more modern and experimental than i expected? this one has a police siren drop

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reading

thank you mackintosh.

i really, really enjoyed Trouble And Her Friends by Melissa Scott (LAMBDA award winner 1995)! @delta-orionis and i frequently ask ourselves "what if neuromancer was good?" and this scratches that itch for me. it is often difficult for me to take neuromancer's protagonist henry seriously, but this book features a pair of extremely practical dykes. it opens on the passing of a new american law criminalizing big swathes of online activity, passed despite a presidential veto. description from amazon

Less than a hundred years from now, the forces of law and order crack down on the world of the computer nets. The hip, noir adventurers who get by on wit, bravado, and drugs, and haunt the virtual worlds of the Shadows of cyberspace, are up against the encroachments of civilization. It's time to adapt or die. India Carless, alias Trouble, got out ahead of the feds and settled down to run a small network for an artist's co-op. Now someone has taken her name and begun to use it for criminal hacking. So Trouble returns. Once the fastest gun on the electronic frontier, she had tried to retire-but has been called out for one last fight. And it's a killer.

this startled me by how fun and competent it is! i tried reading one of the author's books last year (Dreamships) and had a miserable time with the pacing and flow of information. there are echoes of the pacing issues i had with the last book-- this is a nearly four hundred page hardcover, we have a lot of Next Locations to go to, and we are going to take our fucking time getting there. a road trip book, rather than a destination book. Scott has gotten way way better at fleshing out those locations— an artists' co-op has their skylights set to amber to hide the wear and tear on everything in their central hangout space when the feds show up. i also connected with the inciting incident way more-- someone stealing a female hacker’s name and style is instantly relatable. i am riding shotgun with Trouble. i am ready to throw down with her.

it's a very physical book in many ways, bc it has three brief sex scenes, is very concerned with sensuality in both senses of the word, and overall it's like the background in an anime that’s full of dials and buttons and little blinky lights. written in 1994, fascjnating how much concepts of VR and sensory inputs have not changed, but everyone still has the equivalent of an enormous old school desktop and giant CRT monitors set up. everyone is constantly lugging around so much physical tech. the stuff that makes you better at hacking in the net is quick reactions to VR sensations, the only way to get that cutting edge sensation is to get a physical chip or “worm” in your head, and the only people who do that are the core outcasts and freaks of the internet (the gays, the women, the people of color, the all three, presumably the furries as well). from that day to this…

there's an interesting contrast between Trouble and her old partner Cerise stalking the virtual reality bazaars/being queens of the BBS undergrounds, and the danger they feel and face when moving about in the real world. some reviewers are very cranky about how negotiations on and offline feel the same but i did not feel this particular quibble. communication is communication. it is known both on and offline that they're 1) women and 2) lesbians. they're in less physical danger online but slurs can still happen no matter where they are. also, i am well used to the necessity of having to posture and peacock and be kind of a bitch to establish myself in order to get anything done in coding/hardware scenes, which is something i don't think any of the male reviewers of the day ever had to think about.

some cowboy shit goes down at the end that had me hooting and hollering, and Scott handled the hacking scenes in an interesting way-- a sort of abstracted duel? terrific "fight" scenes. very interesting at how she will move things around in order to treat scenes in ways she's good at-- like establishing very grounded locations that feel real, physical sensations, and fight scenes-- instead of just kind of slogging through a very surface level high-overview travelogue like in her last book. ive been stuck on a fic chapter for like four years and this is making me think about doing it the fun way instead of the way i thought it should be done. this may be obvious but i am an amateur and more importantly an idiot.

this was a $6/1 book special last year at one of my favorite thrift stores, a religious shop with the absolute worst vibes in the greater houston area but some of the best stuff

watching

Five Dolls For An August Moon (1970, dir. Brava). sometimes you see a cool title on kanopy and you don't have a better way to kill an hour and a half. plus it had some guys i know from cowboys. tw for a suicide's body in the first fucking ten seconds of the trailer, which is a weird trailer choice bc u don't actually see most of the murders in the movie.

ive watched a fuck of a lot of spaghetti westerns so i feel i am somewhat qualified to tell you this is one of the worst dubs ive ever seen. the lines actors are quarter-heartedly delivering do not always make a lot of sense and only occasionally match the subtitles. i am assuming this is the original dub, bc kino lorber generally does a pretty okay job restoring things?

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this is not a good movie (extremely troubled production, director swap three days before filming, made on a shoestring budget, the actors mostly wore their own clothes, etc). it is not very good at maintaining tension, because it is a film that first and foremost Looks. beautiful fucking sets, beautifully decorated. the exterior is a matte painting, a sort of frothy dream-bubble of sixties architecture. most of the interiors are apparently a real house. incredible experimental burbling soundtrack full of Weird Sounds.

sorry about the tubi interface and our old friend the activate windows logo.

there are so many fun directorial flourishes and staging, but it does get a little wrapped up in itself. this made me think of The Secret of NIMH, a beautifully animated talking-animal film that gave me nightmares as a child, where the animation tricks and sparkles and moving parts sort of all get in each other's way to produce something less than the sum of its parts. this sort of happens here. i'm going to yoink this from a review:

Bava’s eye for exquisite compositions is equally evident. One scene in particular stands out in this regard: The filmmaker shoots an otherwise humdrum fistfight through wooden latticework that breaks the action up into an abstracted mosaic effect. The fight culminates with a table being upended, which in turn unleashes a myriad crystal spheres. The camera follows along as the spheres tumble and cascade down a spiral staircase and roll across a tiled floor before plopping like so many bath bubbles into a tub. The scene concludes with the revelation of a recently deceased character caught in what you’d have to call a tableau morte. It’s a dazzlingly orchestrated sequence, easily on par with more famous Bava set pieces.

it's gorgeous! there's also So Much going on. another lovely bit of business: as each person dies they get wrapped in plastic sheeting and put in the walkin freezer. next to slabs of beef. not a subtle film, and i don't mean it as a diss, bc where's the fuckin fun in that?

playing

i have not been doing much of anything here except listen to podcasts and work toward the two-thousand-fish-caught achievement in genshin. impatiently waiting for Clorinde to be released in several weeks. that one button needs a raise. it is So funny to see genshin characters with fucking guns. very sword and pike based societies so far

making

every time i have tried to make one of these samplers for Me it's gone horribly wrong or been somehow destroyed so i'm making this one for my brother's upcoming birthday, bc he will have off-campus housing next academic year, in an attempt to peacefully do some fucking cross stitch and get something out at the end of it. pattern here on etsy

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Youtube

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captainderyn · 19 days ago

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[Fic] Unwilling Vows

Summary: Duncan returns from a recruitment trip bearing two recruits. Alistair thinks it is a joke when Duncan says one recruit is the teryn of Highever's daughter, Baraneth Cousland. From the way Duncan refers to her, Alistair imagines a stuck up princess chasing glory and facing reality of what a Blight really is. Instead, he finds a deeply broken woman who has had everything stripped from her, and is forced to face the thought that conscription into the Grey Wardens is not always the life line it is painted as.

Warnings: Mentioned/Implied Character Death, Mentioned/Implied Violence

Duncan was displeased with his most recent crop of recruits.

The more the Blight loomed on the horizon, the less recruits successfully made it through the joining, the more often that seemed to be the case. No matter how much the Grey Warden of Ferelden’s need grew for warriors, for bodies, the supply was never enough.

As it turned out, when the recruitment model involved people with nothing to live for and nowhere to go, it wasn’t exactly the highest quality characters going through the trials.

It wasn’t easy to become a Grey Warden, and somehow that fact was always left out in the pitch to the criminals, the destitute, and the vagabond. They were hemorrhaging people, whether it was those who fled and were hunted down before they reached the edge of the Korcari Wilds, or those who died within minutes of the Joining chalice touching their lips.

Alistair hadn’t seen Duncan this ruffled and discontented in a long while, however.

“You brought two recruits back, that’s two more than last time. Was the travel talk really so horrific?” he tried to jest as Duncan paced by him once again.

Duncan sent a dark look his way, and Alistair pressed his lips together with a wince. Rarely was his senior in a joking mood, but more often than not he tolerated Alistair’s attempts to diffuse the tension that only seemed to grow with each passing day.

“The best they could offer me was a mewling welp of an elven mage, too scared of her own shadow to even think of doing the heinous magic her Circle accused her of, and a prideful noblewoman’s daughter who sees becoming fodder for maggots a better alternative to serving her country.” Duncan spat, running his hand over his beard, “I am not confident either will make it through the Joining.”

Alistair crossed his arms over his chest, muttering, “That seems a little harsh.”

Any information on the two new recruits had been sparse. They’d arrived a few hours earlier and been shuffled off to a space with open bedrolls to rest from the long journey. The elven recruit, a tiny waife of an elf that was all gangly skin and bones, had passed by earlier with Duncan as he’d led her towards the mages’ tents to get new robes that weren’t blood stained and tattered. She’d kept her head down, her faded ginger hair obscuring her face.

He’d seen nothing of the other recruit and Duncan’s description finally caught up with him.

“A noble’s daughter?” he spluttered, “Duncan, we don’t recruit noble’s daughters. They don’t give up their own to our ranks.”

The Grey Wardens were respected when they’d done their duty, repelled a Blight, and gone off to die in the Deep Roads when their usefulness reached its end. That was their unspoken agreement with society. They were meant to exist as legends, as heroes in stories. Not for the children of nobles to go running off to.

“Baraneth Cousland.” Duncan said, voice dropping to a near growl. Something had happened either on their journey or during recruiting that was left unspoken and Alistair frowned. Duncan continued, “You would do well to avoid her at the present, Alistair. She is a wretched sort without a grateful bone in her body for what she was spared from. Perhaps she will come around when she sees what the Wardens will provide her with.”

“Cousland?” Alistair repeated, incredulous, though Duncan was already disappearing into the sea of tents, called to some meeting or another.

“Cousland.” he repeated, softer to himself. An old family second in wealth and influence only to the royal family itself.

Alistair’s frown deepened. He would bet his meager coin pouch that neither the teryn or teryna would give up their daughter willingly to the Grey Wardens. Though he knew they had a son, a few years older than Alistair and well known to be the one in line to inherit the seat of power at Highever, they were not a family known to discard their second borns.

But if a Cousland was among them, Alistair could not imagine why Duncan would not have taken her to get supplies and why he would have simply dumped her in a spot to rest and recover from the journey.

Stay away from her sounded an awful lot like he should go seek her out. Casting a furtive look over his shoulder and finding nary a Duncan in sight, Alistair set off to find where the cart had discarded the recruits.

The elven girl still had not returned to her bedroll, presumably still with the mages at the center of camp. But sitting on a bedroll beside the empty one, a woman his age sat untangling hair with shaking hands.

For a prideful, ungrateful brat as Duncan had described, Alistair expected a prim princess in a flouncy outfit, not a hair out of place with her nose upturned to the commoners around her.

Instead, all the air went out of his chest.

Perhaps at one point the well-made tunic she wore had been the deep Cousland blue, the embroidered, interlocked laurel branches once silver. Her tunic was black with dried blood, shredded at the hem and ripped in places with what looked to be oozing nicks from swords and daggers.

Prideful, he saw in the way she squared her shoulders up at his approach, sitting ramrod straight and folding her hands in her lap. She was every bit a teryn’s daughter as she lifted her chin and as her mabari, a young brindle pup, raised his head in kind to fix too-intelligent eyes on him.

Maker’s Breath. She still had flecks of blood on her cheeks, matting the strands of her hair into clumps.

Where could ungrateful fit into that?

“Baraneth Cousland? I, well, I heard you were here. Not like that, but I’d heard we had a new recruit.” Alistair fumbled under the heavy weight of her stare. Striking, yes, but empty. As if she wasn’t totally there.

He cleared his throat, “I didn’t see you pass by to the supplier. I thought you might need something.”

Perhaps he expected something to click and for her to start making demands, ordering him around like her little manservant. That would sound about right for most of the interactions with nobles he had.

She looked down at herself, running her thumbs along the sides of her hands. Russet stains and dirt flakes off. When her eyes settled on him again, it was like another candle had been blown out within her.

“Might you show me where to find a wash basin and cloth? And perhaps a change of clothes.” she asked and he was taken aback by how it sounded as though she was concerned about inconveniencing him.

What had Duncan been on about?

“Of course!” he shuffled, gesturing towards where the supplier would be, who was supposed to issue all new recruits their clothing, food, and water rations gifted to them before the process of the Joining began. “I’m not sure why Duncan didn’t take you there when he delivered the other recruit to the mages.”

Baraneth’s expression darkened, “I don’t believe the Warden-Commander took very kindly to me nor I to him.”

Duncan was not the easiest to get along with, Alistair would concede to that. His Warden-Commander was prickly, overly serious, and all-consumed with the oncoming Blight. Yet even still, it was unusual that he would be outright hostile towards a recruit.

“Did you not get off on the right foot? I promise he isn’t as harsh as he seems--”

Baraneth’s lips curled, stony anger sharpening her features. She snarled like a mabari, fierce enough that Alistair almost recoiled.

“Your wretched leader used my father’s dying breaths to barter for me like chattel! I would’ve died defending my mother and father as was my place, yet he ripped that choice from me, dragged me away as my father bled out on the cobblestones of our estate--”

Baraneth sucked in a sharp breath, pressing her mouth into a thin line. The young mabari by her side lifted his head, grumbling discontentedly at his mistress’ apparent distress.

“And you would not call that harsh?” she finished, voice evened out and flat almost on command.

Alistair’s mouth went dry and he rocked as if struck, “I believe there’s a misunderstanding, I do not know what you’re talking about.”

Baraneth looked stricken, her brows knitting together, “Word of the slaughter of my family has not spread? Howe has covered it so flawlessly?”

Slaughter. Family. Dying breaths and bargains. Alistair’s heart felt like it was plummeting into the earth, his stomach flipping with how horribly out of touch his comment had been.

“There’s been no word of what happened at the Cousland estate that has reached here.”

“Then Fergus does not know…that man promised. My papa’s life for getting my safety and word to my brother.” She said, speaking to herself.

Baraneth fixed Alistair with glassy, empty eyes. He feared he’s well and truly shattered something within her. “We saw my brother off to fight darkspawn in the south, and I damned to be here.” she gave a mirthless laugh. “I have no way of sending word to tell him that his mama and papa and his wife and son were slaughtered like cattle in their beds.”

There were no words that Alistair could call swiftly to his mind to say. This was well and truly more horrific than anything he could have assumed brought her to Ostagar. He had thought he would find a woman who bit off more than she could chew, seeking glory. Not a woman the same age as he who’d been so thoroughly stripped of everything that had been hers.

People came to the Grey Wardens when they had nothing left to live for. The Grey Wardens were not supposed to leave them with nothing to leave for.

Questions swirled around his mind; what had happened, what had Duncan done to aid her, why did she speak as though he’d given her no choice about taking a Warden’s vows.

Silent tears tracked down her cheeks and it was clear that she was no longer seeing him.

“Can I bring you a basin, some clothes, and perhaps some food? You’ve traveled far.” Alistair asked softly. “Some food for the hound as well? We have a small kennel with supplies.”

For it sounded like what she needed was someone to extend human kindness to her.

A brief moment of clarity swept across Baraneth’s face and she looked almost surprised at his offer, looking at him the way one would look at the glimmer of the sun after weeks of rain. Then it was gone, her face hollowing out again.

She squeezed her eyes closed, and whispered, “Please.”

#captainderyn writes #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfiction #alistair theirin #warden cousland #female cousland #oc: Baraneth #otp: A Warden's Rose #they obvs arent otp yet here but I want this in their tag lol #ah cousland origin how you destroy me #im not even replaying origins at the moment I just got struck with the agony of the Cousland origin #and how Duncan gets so upset if Cousland pushes back against becoming a Warden #Alistair being the only one to show Baraneth kindness and acknowledge the horrors she just went through and not asking her to be grateful #and Ruinel giving Baraneth someone to protect and care for as a sister #*screams in feelings*

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rosethevideomancer · 5 months ago

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Let's Fix Ruby's Mom Reveal

Certainly! Here's the revised version and sorry imma read more this one.

UNIT finishes the scan and finds it empty. There is still no match in the database for the mother. Then the TARDIS emits a shuddering noise and all the screens flicker. Multiple screens pop up, searching through every time and place they've visited, scanning planets and realities they've traversed. The Doctor gasps, Ruby starts tearing up, Kate considers deadlocking her access points, and finally, the screen displays "MATCH FOUND." We see Ruby's face and then cut abruptly to the Cafe.

A blonde woman enters and stands in line, chatting on her phone with a friend about her life improving now compared to years ago with her abusive father. She vaguely details his actions and stops when she hints at giving up Ruby Sunday.

We watch her convey the pain with her expressions as she remembers. She reaches the counter after a young girl, whose face remains unseen—Almost insignificant. She orders her coffee, sits down at a table, and continues discussing an upcoming trip, mentioning someone like Rani or Sally Sparrow for a potential future coincidence.

As she taps on her phone, checking her text messages to pass the time (describe her briefly, mention social help lines), Ruby remains out of focus in the background. Finally, she looks up and sees Ruby staring at her. Confused, she asks, "Can I help you?"

Ruby replies, "Oh, sorry. I just… thought you looked like someone I once knew," then hesitates and starts to leave. The woman stops her, saying, "I don't know, but I get whatcha mean. You… come here often?"

"Oh yeah, used to pop round here every day!" Ruby answers. The woman replies, "Oh, yeah? Well same! Maybe that's how we know each other—from seeing each other here!" Ruby knows this isn't true but agrees verbally, "I guess so. Well, sorry to bother you," and tries to leave. As she turns, the barista calls out, "Ruby!" The woman freezes, and Ruby cringes as she grabs her coffee. Starting to leave, the woman softly says, "Ruby's such a pretty name," to which Ruby, as always, replies instantly, "Thanks, it's the road I was found on," the ladys eyes go wide and realizing she said too much. Ruby hurries away.

She runs to the Doctor, leaning on his TARDIS outside. She hugs him and cries; he returns the hug as he understands. He also had the opportunity for answers in FLUX but didn't follow through. It's hard to accept answers when questions have been your constant companions throughout life.

After this sad moment, a voice interrupts, "Excuse me." Ruby turns and sees the woman, nervous and fidgety, looking almost like an older Ruby Sunday. "That road you were left on… It wouldn't happen to have been… Ruby Road… would it?" Ruby hesitates but reluctantly nods, and they share an awkward moment, both tearing up. The Doctor beams his smug grin before leaning in and and saying, "This is the part where you two hug," pushing Ruby gently. The music swells as they embrace. We see him lean back happy as he adds in a whisper, "The foundling finally found. Coincidence, coincidence, coincidence," glancing briefly up at the sky with concern before smiling.

Fade to a later scene with the Doctor, the Sunday family, and Ruby's bio-mom. Carla asks, "So you're not a god or something?" The Doctor interjects, "Yeah, no, turns out… My old girl the looovely TARDIS eventually figured out about our little death doggo stowaway when I crashed near the edge of the universe. Turns out he was using all the noise and energy of the cosmos to cloak himself, but when you're at the edge of space, well... it's hard to hide in an empty room. Once she found that out, she kept trying to think of ways to warn us—groaning, planting a song in Ruby's core and using the excess energy from coffee and a lil' mavity mix up to try and burn him off her. When that didn't work she figured the only way she could help is by making a mystery the death god couldn't resist, extending her perception filter to Ruby's birth Mother on Christmas Night 2005. Which you should feel honored about, thousands of years and she's rarely ever done that."

Ruby nods but adds "But what about the pointing?" Her biological mother chuckles and nods "Oh I remember now. Yes.. Christmas night, I was giving away my baby and the faint song from the church had me questioning myself. But the strangest thing happened.. I heard this noise and a big box that wasn't there moments ago was suddenly fading into reality only a few meters away from me. I thought I was going mad! My tongue was tied and voice gone! All I could do was point. Put yourself in my shoes, I thought god himself had come to punish me for my actions... But he just stared me down crying.. I wondered why god would cry... How did my choice make him that sad?" The Doctor looks at her reflecting on the Sutekh conversation about being made the god of life. Her Mom continues "I think it's what pushed me. I had a life so sad that even god cried for me. I made a promise in that moment to leave and get out and maybe one day if my life ever got better... I'd find you again. So I turned and I walked away I made that decision to live the life I wanted you to have, Ruby, and I knew I made the right choice because when I turned back... That man and his box were gone."

"And here now here we are and for the record I'm really very glad that for once, just this one beautiful time… " the Doctor sits between Ruby and her bio-mom and hugs them both beaming "It was just a human." The episode continues from there as usual.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #ruby sunday #ruby's mum

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invisibleraven · 25 days ago

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we kissed last night but we have to pretend like nothing happened

peterpatterlina

Julie wasn't usually one for parties-she much preferred to be home with a good book, or even an enjoyable reality show. However Flynn wanted to go out after a disastrous break up, and well Julie wasn't letting her go out alone.

Even so, she felt uncomfortable in her little black dress and spiky heels-even if she looked great, it didn't seem like her. At least the drinks were good.

Flynn seemed to be having a good time-flirting with a cute girl in a lilac coloured wig in the corner, seeming genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. Julie was glad-her friend deserved nothing but happiness, especially after the awful way her last relationship had ended.

Julie was happily single herself-she wasn't really interested in flings, and hadn't really been looking for 'the one'. She would find romance when it was ready for her-and not before.

She wandered around the party, observing games of beer pong, an impromptu dance floor in the living room, and then-music coming from the basement. She cautiously went down the steep stairs, having to hold back a laugh when she saw the set-up for people to play old school Guitar Hero and Rock Band on the TV.

There weren't many people down here, and most were off in dark corners drinking, smoking, and hooking up from what Julie could see. Which was a shame, because the guys playing were doing really well, and sounded great as they sang along to the songs as they played.

"You guys are really good!" she commented as the song ended.

"Thanks!" the scruffy brunette on guitar said with a disarming smile. "But we're better with real instruments."

"We're Sunset Curve-tell your friends!" said the other guy with upswept black hair and a truly enthusiastic grin.

"You wanna play? We've got the keys empty if you wanna jump in," the guitarist said.

Julie had never really played the game before-and while she understood the concept, she wasn't sure she'd be any good at it. "I could sing instead if you're okay with that?"

"Yes!" the bassist cheered. "My falsetto only goes so high, perfect chance for us to do some Heart, or Blondie, maybe even Dolly!"

"Reg there is no way this game has a Dolly Parton song on it."

"It might! Come on Lu, let me live in hope!"

Julie giggled, scrolling through the songs, finally selecting something she knew from listening to vintage stations on road trips with her mom. "How's this?"

"Perfect."

Julie grinned and began singing, not caring about being pitch perfect, but having fun. Belting out the lyrics and smiling so wide her face hurt-especially when she saw the astonished faces of her two bandmates at her voice.

She danced around the small space as she sang, draping an arm around each of the boys as she got close, hamming it up a little, but they both got into it, giving her heavy looks and it made Julie warm down to her toes-even if they were squashed into her pinchy heels.

When the song ended there was a smattering of applause from the few people paying attention, but they soon turned back to their own things as Julie flopped onto the couch, the guys on either side of her.

"Damn," the guitarist-Lu the bassist had called him-said. "Your voice is killer!"

"Thanks," Julie replied.

"You sound like an angel," Reg said, blushing so prettily, and Julie couldn't help but feel her face heat up at the compliment.

The guys had tossed off the plastic instruments, but it still felt like there was no room on the couch-maybe because Julie felt the overwhelming attraction between the three of them. He heart was still racing, and she wasn't sure if it would ever slow down.

It didn't help when the guys crowded in even closer, their faces nuzzling hers, and Julie knew what she wanted-even if it was just for fun, which she didn't usually do, she wanted to kiss them.

She couldn't kiss them both though right?

Well it seemed she could, as Lu turned her face to him, capturing her mouth with his-a heady, passionate kiss that had Julie whimpering into it and almost chasing his lips when he pulled away. Only then, Reggie turned her to him, and his kiss was almost electric, making Julie feel as though she had been woken up after a dream.

Then-Julie wasn't sure she wasn't dreaming as the guys pulled each other in for a kiss-more harsh and rough then the ones they had granted her, but delicious none the less, and Julie craved even more from them-kisses, songs, the whole shebang.

She was about to reel them in for more when she heard Flynn call her.

"Jules, we have to go!"

Julie looked at the boys apologetically. "Sorry. I have to-sorry." With that she took off, finding Flynn who was shuttling them out of the house lickety split, as apparently her ex-and her newest flame-had just come in.

The rest of the night was spent consoling Flynn-and while Julie was a little sad she didn't get more kisses, friends came first. And maybe she'd see the guys on campus?

The next day, feeling a little worse for wear, Julie tossed back some Advil, threw on her comfiest clothes and cursed Past Julie for signing up for such an early class.

She barely made it to her Composition class, stuck in a seat up front, guaranteeing the prof would call on her, but that was what she got for drinking on a school night.

"Alright," Professor Harrison called out. "I have a treat for you all. Today I have some former students of mine to come in and talk to you all about song writing. Please welcome Luke Patterson and Reggie Peters, two of the members of Sunset Curve!"

Oh fuck.

Julie froze as the two guys she had been all but making out with the night before walk into the classroom. The rest of the class was full of whispers-apparently their band was pretty well known? Julie didn't really keep up with modern music due to her concentration in the Classical area.

But she guessed she should check them out-their band! She should check their band out!

The guys saw her too, with Luke freezing and Reggie giving a smile that looked less than natural.

She guessed they didn't expect to see her in the class they were talking to this morning. But they were all adults, they could be normal.

She knew how to be normal right?

Given the flush of her cheeks and the way she could barely concentrate, let alone look at the guys, apparently not, which is a shame, because she was sure whatever they were saying was very interesting and insightful.

Clas swent blessedly quickly, and Julie was ready to bolt when the hour was up, but of course Professor Harrison called her up. "I wanted you to meet Luke and Reggie here-they were my star pupils in this class-I think you could learn a lot from them outside of what they shared with the class today."

"T-thanks."

"How about we go get a coffee?" Luke offered.

"Unless you have another class now?" Reggie asked, giving her an out.

But as embarrassed as Julie was, she did feel like she wanted to get to know them. And she really could use a coffee...

"I'm free until this afternoon."

"Excellent," Luke said, the three of them heading out.

"So Julie," Reggie started, smiling bright at her. "You up for another game of Rock Band?"

"I might be-but you promised me coffee," Julie replied. "And to show me how good you are with real instruments."

"We can do that," Luke responded. "But you still gotta sing with us."

Julie bit her lip, last night had been one thing, just playing around after a few drinks. This was singing with a honest to goodness band. However, given how Luke and Reggie were looking at her-much like they had last night-well Julie was sure she would like to see how today would end up, especially with no Flynn coming to drag her away.

Needless to say, she missed her afternoon class. But given she came away with two new boyfriends, she was going to say it was definitely worth it.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms

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atomictyphoonkitten · 8 days ago

Text

Charlie Weasley and the utterly complicated matters of the heart - Part 4

warnings: Charlie is still confused, gets worked up a little bit, language

word count: 1800+

Chapter directory: here

4. The one where he was rooted to the spot

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dirt road as Charlie made his way back to his cottage. It had been a very long, very frustrating week, and his mind was spinning with thoughts he’d rather not dwell on. He was glad he survived the week somehow sanely. Mostly, he spent his days trying to ignore the way every moment with you (and worse, every moment you’d spent with Victor), seemed to stick to him like dragon snot that wouldn’t wash off.

All week, he’d been caught off guard by the sound of your conversations, or by the easy, natural way you’d fallen into step with Victor as he showed you the different processes. And yet, despite his best efforts, he kept finding himself glancing in your direction. He’d grumbled to himself already more times than he could count, trying to convince himself he didn’t care, that it was all just… fucking irritating. But as he neared his cabin, his plan to let it all go fell apart completely.

There you were, crouched next to your motorcycle parked in front of your cottage, and you looked… well, you looked completely different. The tight black jeans just hugged you perfectly everywhere, just like your fitted white tank top, your hair tied back as you tinkered with something on the bike’s side, your hands greasy and deft. He actually stopped in his tracks, stunned. He gulped as he noticed a thin trail of oil trickling gracefully down your forearm. For Merlin’s sake.

He’d gotten so used to seeing you in the oversized handler gear: boots, gloves, those bulky dragonhide jackets, that he’d practically forgotten that under all that, you were… well, you. And a very different-looking you than he’d somehow expected now.

“Hey, Charlie,” you called, looking up from your work, your face breaking into a grin when you saw him. Your eyes sparkled with a kind of energy he hadn’t noticed before, and there was something in the way you leaned against the bike that made him feel like he’d been hit by a Stupefy spell.

Then, without breaking that warm, mischievous smile, you took a few steps toward him, closing the space between you. He could practically feel the heat radiating off you, see a faint smear of oil along your collarbone, and was stunned by the way a stray strand of hair framed your beautiful face.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you rose up on your toes and leaned in, your lips soft and inviting as they brushed his. He smelled the scent of you, earthy, with a hint of engine oil, making his pulse hammer. His hands started acting on their own, first cupping your face, as he melted into the soft kiss, then wandering down on your arms. Then with his left arm he pulled you closer by the hip, his fingertips pressing into your velvety skin that he found under the hem of your top, his right arm continued trailing down, feeling the texture of your jeans as his grip tightened on your thigh, then wandering towards your bottom. His heartbeat was frantic, he could feel all the blood leaving his brain and pooling downwards.

What. the. fuck. was. that. Charlie blinked, jerking himself back to reality, his cheeks flushed, and his breath completely unsteady. He had to cough, desperate to shake off the image, knowing well that he was staring too long, and that you had no idea the chaos you’d just caused in his head.

“Hey, Charlie,” you called, looking up from your work, with a warm smile when you saw him.

“Uh, hey,” he replied, his voice sounding more strangled than he’d intended. He tried to clear his throat, but the words seemed to stick. “Didn’t… didn’t know you were so handy.”

“Yeah,” you said, stroking the bike fondly, “I used to tinker with it back home. Needed a bit of work after the trip here.” You wiped your hands on an old rag, oblivious to the way Charlie was still standing frozen in place, as if rooted to the spot.

He was staring, he realized: at your hands, your jeans, the way your tank top hugged your figure in a way that had his pulse thumping in an intensity he was not at all prepared to deal with. He’d just walked here to clear his head, not to run smack into… whatever this was.

“Something wrong?” you asked, noticing his silence. Your brow creased slightly, a small smile hiding at the corners of your mouth.

“No,” he said quickly, snapping his gaze away and looking down at his feet. “Just… surprised. Didn’t expect you being this handy with fixing things.”

You laughed, a warm, easy sound that seemed to ripple right through him. “What, you thought I only dealt with dragons?”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling himself flush. “Guess I didn’t think much beyond that.”

“Well,” you said, standing up and leaning one arm against the bike, giving him a wide grin, “I do have other hobbies, you know.”

Charlie swallowed hard. He couldn’t help but glance at the faint line of your collarbone peeking out from the tank top, the way a strand of hair had slipped loose and framed your face. His mind was now a muddle of thoughts he didn’t want to have, and his body was… well, definitely reacting in a way he refused to acknowledge. This is ridiculous. He was Charlie Weasley, for Merlin’s sake, a dragon handler, completely content with the way he carried himself. And yet here he was, absolutely flustered by a freaking tank top and jeans.

“Right,” he muttered, trying to find some semblance of normality. “So, uh, need help with anything? The bike, I mean?”

You smirked, tilting your head with an amused glint in your eye. “And here I thought you weren’t into distractions.”

He blinked, trying to ignore the heat rising in his face. “Wha… It’s not a distraction. Just… a friendly offer.”

“Alright, tough guy,” you teased. “Hold the bike while I check the oil level.”

He stepped closer, his movements slower than usual as he fought to keep his attention on the task and not on the way your jeans stuck to your thighs. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this aware of a pair of jeans in his life, which only made him more irritated with himself. Focus, Weasley. It’s a bike. Just a bloody bike.

You crouched down again, inspecting the oil level, and he tried not to notice the view opening in front of him, the thin fabric of your tank top hugging your breasts. He glanced skyward, trying to clear his mind, but found himself distracted by the view again.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “you look a bit frazzled. Long day with the dragons?”

He blinked, thrown off by the question. “Uh, yeah. Just… you know. Same old.” He shrugged, feeling awkward.

“Right.” You nodded, then raised an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. “Couldn’t have anything to do with Victor, could it?”

Charlie felt his stomach drop. “What?” he said, too quickly. “No. Why would it?”

Your smirk only grew, and he suddenly felt like he was standing far too close. “Oh, nothing,” you said innocently, reaching over to clean a spot on the engine. “It’s just… I noticed you seemed a bit on edge this week. Thought maybe it was because of Victor.”

He scoffed, though it sounded weak. “Victor? I barely noticed he was there.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, biting back a laugh. “That must be why you kept giving him looks that could burn holes through steel.”

Charlie grunted, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed. He fumbled for words, struggling to explain himself without giving anything away. “I just… I don’t like it when people… mess around too much. It’s a workplace, after all.”

“Right, right,” you said, nodding with a mock-serious expression. “Because you would never joke around. Ever.”

He was aware of how ridiculous he sounded, and you grinning only made it worse. But even as he frowned, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over you again… your hands, stained with oil, the smudge on your cheek you hadn’t noticed, the way you seemed completely at ease, the complete opposite of how he felt.

“So… you’re good with bikes, huh?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “I find it quite relaxing.” You looked thoughtful, then glanced up at him, your gaze warm. “What about you? Any hidden hobbies?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me? Nah. Just dragons, I guess.”

“Just dragons,” you repeated with a grin. “Not exactly a small hobby.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, despite himself. “Fair point. But, uh, dragons don’t usually… surprise me as much as you just did.”

You straightened, catching his eye with a playful look. “Oh? Surprised I can handle more than dragons?”

“Well… yeah, a bit,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. He was trying to sound casual, but his voice was giving him away. The truth was, everything about you was throwing him off, and he had no ways to correctly handle this.

You laughed, leaning against the bike as you gave him an assessing look. “I think it’s kind of funny, Charlie. You’ve been all grumpy and serious all week, and here you are… staring at me like I just grew wings.”

He stiffened, feeling the heat rise to his face again. “I’m not… staring,” he muttered, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Just… surprised, like I said.”

“Mmhmm,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Well, let me know if you need any tips on working through surprises. I’m pretty good at that, too.”

The teasing in your voice made his stomach flip, and he managed a weak chuckle, cursing his own reaction. “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stepped back, giving him a final, amused smile before leaning back to the bike again. “Thanks for the help, Charlie. Think I’ve got it from here.”

He nodded, though it took him a second to unfreeze his legs enough to move. “Right. Yeah. Well… bye, then.”

“Bye, Charlie,” you called, flashing him one last grin.

As he walked away, he felt a strange, jittery warmth settle in his chest. Bloody hell, he thought, scrubbing a hand over his face. This was fucking embarassing. He hadn’t even known he had these kinds of feelings in him, and he was utterly sure he didn’t want them. But there was no denying that you had somehow managed to get under his skin for real, and the realization was as unsettling.

By the time he made it back to his cabin, he was practically dizzy, replaying every word, every laugh, every grin in his head. He was in trouble: big, unexpected trouble, and he had zero idea what to do about it. Maybe talking to Bill could help.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x you #mc x charlie weasley

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comesitintheclover · 8 months ago

Text

This is a love letter to being trans and to other trans people

this is for my t4t first kiss and being seen as a boy by those close to me before I cut my hair and the world started catching up.

this is for the first time a stranger called me a man unprompted being a day I was wearing earrings and bejewelled clips in my hair. For not having to change who I am to be a man.

this is for the trans masc lesbian who taught me how to break in my docs. the gemstones of community collected through time

this is for helping each other bind and songs by indie girl bands about wanting to be a boy, Kate bush singing about not being seen as a boy when she’s riding white horses and I don’t know what she means but I feel it in me and I’m sixteen and binding for the first time and everything feels magical.

this is for my trans brother putting trans stickers in public bathroom stalls and me seeing them at school and feeling less alone.

this is for me falling in love with the ways your voice and your body are changing with every T shot, falling more for you, and falling in love with what I will get to do one day.

this is for the YouTubers who I rewatch, those who show their bodies to the world and face the endless bs to help their trans siblings. The posts and forums that I have screenshotted. For the strangers who helped me find myself and will never know how comforted their words made me.

this is for the flamboyant album by Dorian Electra and splendor dysphoria by Superknova. For the trans musicians and artists and authors who inspire me forever and ever. Who create little infinities of bliss in their 3 minutes of song or few square inches of book pages.

this is for the overlap of identities and the love of body hair and all the butterfly themed stuff I have because they’re a transgender allegory. this is for waking up and touching my chest because it was just a nightmare and the surgery went well and this is my chest now (and it’s like it’s always been)

this is for feeling so proud that I didn’t back down when I could have stomached it because I’m so happy now I didn’t realise how much it hurt before.

this is for finding ourselves while governments uses us as its favourite chewtoy. for reading banned books. For seeing the world change. For the better and worse. For all the highs and lows. this is for you yelling back at that stranger “not a girl!” And me startled and anxious by your side and a bit starstruck. Falling a bit more in love. Writing 500 songs about it, maybe

this is for you telling me it’s okay to just try a new pronoun as we sat on the baseball benches that may. For us with our then-long hair in the sand that summer grinning about being boy-girl-girl-boy-girl-boy-girl-boy-boys. For wearing suits during spirit week. For the sopranos in suit and tie at the choir concert. For the beauty and joy of trans existence.

for the pronoun pins they made at the library. That my brother painted on a bottle cap for me. for getting to give my brother new nicknames from his new name.

this is for the trans people who have given me community and offered me a place to sleep and reignited my faith in humanity

this is for the queer youth group in the new town I lived in this summer. For seeing trans and queer people who were older than me. With white hair. For being cared for, for seeing a future that isn’t lonely. For the road trip we took and doodle the younger kid drew of us all. For spaces that our queer elders have created for us and and we will care for in turn 💗

this is for when you took me to the trans beach day for our third? last? date and I didn’t know what pronouns to put on my my-name-is sticker and I was scared I was an imposter but everyone was so kind and I saw life life life, joy joy joy. More people than the kind that get on a for you page or got cooked up in my feverish brain during lockdown. It was a new welcoming into the world and reality is always so much more beautiful than whatever one dimensional hope I could dream on my own.

this is for the binder I got that summer now neatly folded in the memory box at the top of my wardrobe with old poems and letters and that photo of us at pride when I finally decided I could go too 💗, too high up for me to reach this January with new scars across my chest.

it’s for the way we take care of each other. My friend who made me spaghetti and lent me his mastectomy pillow. For my bff crocheting me trans coloured flowers and a teddy bear. Telling me there’s no such thing as fish or men, helping me through post-surgical depression.

for how we change as time passes. For how we reconnect with new names. For how we may lose each other but still wish each other well with this journey. for poems about god and grapes and wine you collaged onto your bedroom wall. For the genderbendy collages I kept hidden in my closet.

for cutting off my tits to feel comfortable in skirts again. For being understood. For laying on the living room floor years ago telling you I see you as you even if they don’t. And you saying “what do you see though?”. For the hard bits. The times I’ve fucked up. For calling the help line. For your drag king/thing makeup. For the day I learned the word tomboy.

this is for us sitting on the summer sidewalk talking about missing T shots and microdosing and how it’s all gonna be okay.

this is for when you pointed at that statue of apollo and said you wished you looked like that and I bit my tongue because that was your journey to have not mine. This is for being mooned at a queer show. for being offered a cigarette in place of a kiss. for knowing I'll support you no matter what. for joking (kinda) about getting free the nipple tattooed of my post-surgery chest. for being both a woman and a man because I can.

this is for the beauty of the transgender experience, for not understanding gender but feeling it anyways. For becoming because you can, because the world is more open and joyful in a lot of ways now. It’s for coming back to school after quarantine and never being the only kid using multiple pronouns in each class. It’s for hope. It’s for life being more than death. It’s for the beauty of creation and the infinite shapes it takes. It’s for deciding the masculine is not alien. It’s for getting tipsy in the uni lounge and comparing how we think about our genders and feelings so cozy and there being no absolutes. this is for life being confusing but beautiful anyway. For not being able to decide wether to grow my hair back to my waist or to buzz it again. For the joy of waking up with hair short enough to stick up crazily. For you giving me an undercut with stationary scissors when I was 16 there was nothing better to use.

this is for gender being silly fun and profound all at once, all the time.

this is for the day I felt shit going into the woman’s bathroom and I saw this:

this is for @boy-gender happy birthday! Thank you for helping me out with my fears about top surgery and listening to me rant about gender. I hope you have a wonderful day!

#Confusing use of the pronoun “you” sorry #General you #you as in me #You as in 500 different people from my past #<3

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 7 months ago

Text

Sweet Dreams--Part 12

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted.

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

The snap of the camera sounds well after the flash of the light. Then behind it, what sounds like a thousand more shutters erupt. The flashes blink like the silver dots Calum used to call angels when he was a child in his vision. As he approaches the podium, Calum thinks less about the blinking lights. The lights don’t slow him down like they used to. They don’t hurt as much as they used to. This is all well practiced throughout the years. He smiles, lifting a hand in acknowledgement at the crowd that’s gathered. Since the vote, Calum’s been keeping an eye on the way the funds have been helping those in need, continually surveying those that took place in his initial conversations and polls. Things seem to be going well. But at the conclusion of this year, there still are four seats that will need to be filled.

It’s unconventional for Calum to even bring this discussion to the floor for the public. The truth of the matter is, he knows he can’t serve a community and people that he knows very little about. He doesn’t know their concerns. He doesn’t know what specific things are plaguing the majority. He’s sure there’s even more pressing things for select groups--everyone has their own prioritization but still Calum’s not on the pulse like he wants to be. So, he’s here now to re-introduce the surveys and forms available to the public. He wants them to know he is listening. Though it is tedious work to review those surveys on a quarterly basis, Calum’s happy to have a team willing to do the nitty gritty work--him included.

“Thank you for joining me here today. I know we’re closing in on the holidays soon and food and family are most likely at the forefront of everyone’s minds, but still it means a lot that you’ve still shown up here today,” Calum starts, working at the button of his suit jacket. “I’m also happy to see some pretty familiar faces too.”

And it’s true, as Calum peers out at the swarm of reporters, there are a few faces he’s learned to anticipate to see. A few laughs rise from the crowd and Calum takes a moment to glance down at his notes. It’s not a full on written speech, but it is a pretty tightly packed list of talking points.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time today, folks. It is a Friday afternoon after all and I’m not a cruel man. We’re at the tail end of the year and after a particularly tight win in ensuring that additional funds are processed for those in need, it is still very much my intent to keep on the pulse of public concerns. I may be a man a little removed from the day to day struggles of the average person. I am a man aware that the reality of my day to day is vastly different from others. This, most likely, won’t be news to some. But I am hoping that by taking just a few minutes here today, I am able to encourage people to participate actively in their politics and re-introduce them to a tool to express their voice directly.

“As it has been for the twenty years or so, on our parliament’s website there is a section which allows the public to write into us about concerns they have--whether it be about your specific counties roads, or library, or school--you have the space to let us know what is and what is not working for you. Now, to address concerns, I am sure people will have: yes, this was originally buried and hard to navigate to from the home page. There is a lot of news that we do try to share with you all and information we know you need to access more easily. Yet, I do not want this to be a continued excuse that frustrates people to the point where they believe that their feedback is not valued.

“It is, in fact, the opposite. It is important that I know exactly what challenges are being faced day in and day out for my people. I am here to serve you. Given this goal to become more increasingly aware, I’ve worked with our designers to create the “Talk to Us” button.”

Calum waves now to the screen behind him, which in the reflection in some of the glasses from those in the front row, he can see the slide is now showing. The home page--a stale blue--lights up behind him. “The home bar will now, at the conclusion of this press conference, include a direct link to the form, entitled, “Talk to Us”. When you click on this link, you’ll be asked to inform us of location specific details, if necessary, as well as being able to write directly and freely to your government on the actions you see that we need to take or directions you’d like us to head.”

A small murmur starts from the crowd, but it remains low and dies down soon too. Calum knows that soon a new slide should be appearing that showcases an example of the form itself so he continues on, slow and clearly as he speaks, “We will be launching in the new year the opportunity for you to respond to surveys we have created as well once you click on this link. These surveys will be no more than 10 questions at a time and participation is voluntary. The contents of these surveys will be a combination of concerns we have as your government and concerns brought up by you individually. Consider it a feedback loop. The more you tell us about issues, and the more you participate in those voluntary surveys, the better we can serve you. Concerns brought up through the Talk to Us function will be reviewed on a quarterly basis. We hope to hear from you soon.”

“Any questions?” Calum prompts, taking in the faces and notes being scribbled down. A couple hands are being raised after a few seconds. “Yes,” Calum notes, seeing a man in a sky blue button up start to raise his hand.

He introduces himself and his associated press. “Considering that this function has existed on the website long before now, do you have any thoughts on why previous administrations haven’t taken to making this more accessible until now?”

A question Calum anticipated and he hates the way it pits administrations against each other. “I can’t speak for why previous ones haven’t considered reorganizations of the public website. But as we gain more literacy about user experience and design, it has become clearer than ever that the front page of any website is the most important in getting people to what they need as quickly as possible. We are working with some SEO strategies as well to help ensure that this link does show up in the first two pages of search engine results as well. There’s an entirely new field in politics revolving around online presences and social media. Our drive now is also tied to the direct evolution of this technology in the last few years as well.”

It’s a lot of hot air, even Calum knows that, but he has to say it this way. Has to make sure he’s careful of those that have come before him. Something so simple as adding a link seems obvious now but may not have been obvious before.

Calum moves on to the next person--a woman, in a pink almost orange top, who gives her name and associated press as well. “Is there any plan to move these functions to an app perhaps in the future?”

“Not currently at this time, no,” Calum answers. “But the page itself will allow users that need it to use speech to text, screen readers, dark mode backgrounds and ensure to adhere to accessibility guidelines as well.”

Another man raises his hand, a white and black striped shirt. Calum signals to him for him to ask his question. After his name and press, the man continues on, “Are there concerns about backlash? People feeling like their concerns aren’t being addressed fast enough or feeling like there’s a ranking system when it comes to concerns.”

“Our team has assessed as thoroughly as we can the best way to sustain the use of this forum and survey platform. We won’t be able to get to every concern sent in and we will have to look at volume as it relates to each individual item raised. But we hope that by establishing the quarterly review timeline, we can be transparent enough to the public about why things may seem to be moving much slower than they anticipated. I have a team established, me included, who will be continually reviewing what is coming in and how efficient are current practices as well.”

“So, you’re really not afraid of the dirty work,” the man teases. The room bubbles with a soft bout of laughter.

Calum laughs as well. “No, I’m not afraid of the dirty work. It is valuable work to do as I’ve come to learn.” Calum is a little afraid he might be spreading himself a bit thin by taking this one, but should he need to take a step back, he already has people he can pull in to help the team as well. Right now, there’s a lot of the paid interns doing the footwork, but Calum hopes this plan creates a big enough need that he can hire some of them on as full time staffer positions in the next two years.

Calum, keeping an eye on the time, makes mention that he can only take two more questions to ensure he sticks to his early promise of not sucking up their entire afternoon. So he moves on to another lady in purple. She stands with a smile. “It appears that your special friend seems to be making an impression on you. My particular question--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Calum interrupts. “Who’s making an impression on me?”

Her face falls for a moment, but she recovers with an awkwardly thick laugh. “I think it’s quite obvious.”

Calum’s brows furrow. Part of him wonders if this person is referring to you. But this hardly seems like the place for it. Perhaps there’s something else he’s missing. “Well, color me surprised, because I am genuinely unable to follow your logic and statement. Could you clarify what you mean?”

The woman laughs again, but she begins to fidget with the cap of her pen. Maybe Calum’s not wrong about his initial assessment. But the seconds tick on and he’s not sure if he’s going to gloss over it or let her sit in her discomfort. She finally speaks but her voice shakes, “I just-I mean it’s obvious between your speech before the vote and the photos now that have repeatedly surfaced.”

More now than ever Calum’s positive what she’s been trying to hint at--you. There’s hardly been news of the two of you lately, seeing as you worked, painted, and fussed over your siblings, Calum and you hadn’t been out in the public much over the last few weeks. Maybe there were pictures of your late night run for cookies at Calum’s insistence last week. But that hardly feels worthy of being brought up in a political press conference.

“I’m sorry. Can you remind me of your name again?” Calum asks. “I think I missed it initially.”

“Pamela,” she offers though she does have to repeat it given how softly she says it the first time. Like how Calum imagines a child reacts to getting in trouble--sheepish and embarrassed.

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

“Thank you, Pamela. I think given the particular reason for this conference this is not the place to divulge into personal affairs--mine, yours, or anyone else’s. Now, I do believe that Times sees you as talented and nuanced at political coverage, lest you wouldn’t be in the room responsible for covering their story about our meeting. I know this news is relatively small and for someone like you it may not take you more than an hour to write, edit, and publish. So let’s ensure that we continue to show Times your brilliance at politics. That sound good?”

She nods, fervently so that the strands she’d tucked behind her ear fall out again. “Ye-yes, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

Part of him wants to say no worries. But he is a bit annoyed by such a comment she attempted to make, the things she might’ve been trying to insinuate. It could be harmless and it could’ve been so much more sinister. Calum merely nods. “Apology accepted. Now, what’s your question?”

“Thank-thank you. My question is, uh, in regards to the longevity of this new launch, can we expect this to be a long term investment in your tenor when you transition to take over for your father?”

Calum nods at the question. “As long as I remain at the helm, I do intend to continue to promote and invest in transparency on how the public can and should influence their government. The ‘Talk to Us’ is essentially launch zero, if you will. It’s, again, a function that’s been integrated into the site for years now. But I hope that these initial changes to its location help open the door for much more political discourse between the public and parliament.”

Her descent back to her seat is not graceful by any means. Pamela dives back to her seat and Calum feels a small pang of guilt in his gut. “Thank you again for your time,” Calum turns to address the entire room. “I fear we’re out of time for today. But I do greatly appreciate you spending your Friday afternoon with me. I hope you all have a great weekend.”

Calum steps away from the podium and sees Pamela still buried in her pad. Perhaps, she hadn’t meant harm, but the more Calum let slide, the more people would feel brave with their off handed comments, or worse probes into his personal life. This is a world he’d learned to navigate thanks to the years he’d been raised in. You deserve any and all amounts of privacy that can be scraped together.

His phone is returned to him when Calum returns to the wings. “Great work out there,” Miranda comments before she turns back to her iPad.

Calum watches her squint, releasing a sigh before he reaches up to her hair and takes the pair of red glasses down. She’d finally caved in getting the prescription but still refused at times on wearing them. “You might even be able to tell me I did a better job if you could see it.”

“Well my hair’s made the lenses greasy,” she huffs.

Calum offers his spare handkerchief tucked away into the inner pocket of the suit jacket. “Keep it for the sake of your eyeballs please.”

Miranda hums at the offer, which Calum knows will most likely be her only response to it. “I’ll keep an eye out for the response about Pamela’s probe. Should we ask Times to not put her back on the rotation?”

This question sounds genuine and when Calum turns the corner, he risks a glance over to Miranda. Nothing follows the question--no quip, no retort. For a moment, Calum’s positive it’s a trick question but the silence lingers and weighs for longer than usual. “Uh, she asked a good question in the end.”

“Yes, she did. But from what we’ve discussed, we are in the ‘loose lips, sink ships’ position. And this is your relationship, so speak now before I make the call.”

“Don’t box her out,” Calum returns. “Doing so might send too strong of a message and we’re not really in a position to bring down the hammers.”

Miranda nods. “Could make us look desperate and unfair too. You handled it exceptionally well though today, so I am very proud of that. Next week, the fitting is scheduled as a heads up for the charity event. This does mean, I have to ask, will you and your partner be walking the carpet together? We wouldn’t want to use this event for any sort of announcement, but if the two of you are comfortable with the idea, then we’ll need to just review the etiquette for the event with them.”

Now that’s the kind of question expected from Miranda. Direct, no nonsense, objective focused and lasered in. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll be on display with their painting though and my volunteer time.”

“It’s whatever the two of you decide. I’m just saying should you two walk the carpet together, we make no announcements. You walk, you talk to a couple reporters that are outside but you don’t say anything about the relationship. Even if asked.”

Calum nods, tucking his folder up under his arm after pressing the call button for the elevator. Miranda’s right. The charity event would not be the right place for him to say anything. And he’d be a hypocrite now after handling Pamela to try and steal the stage for such an important event. The two of you could walk it separately in blocks close to each other--he goes first for a minute or so and then you follow. But the two of you would inevitably wind up locked arm in arm as the night progressed. But to walk the carpet together and explicitly not answer any questions would be more awkward in the end. Though, it would matter at the end of it what you preferred.

“How much should I bet that you need a final decision by the time we meet for the fitting?” Calum asks, letting Mirand into the elevator first.

Miranda snorts at the question. “I wouldn’t bet anything you couldn’t afford.”

You’re supposed to be going back home tonight after your shift. Though it feels like a good portion of your belongings have drifted into the palace, you spend a decent portion of your time at your own place too. Where you live is technically closer to your job and easier on your car for sure. Calum takes a look at the time. It’s pushing just a couple minutes past four pm. The dinner rush would undoubtedly be starting in the next hour or so and Calum knows he can’t squeeze any extra time out of his day.

But he spies a text from you, from ten minutes ago, and wonders if he could snag you still once he gets back to his office. The preview of the text stares back up at Calum, Have I ever told you just how…. It piques his interest and he swipes to start input his passcode. “You’ll have an answer Monday,” Calum returns to Miranda.

“Sounds good.”

Have I ever told you just how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press? Because if not, I really should tell you how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press.

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type.

In all seriousness, thanks for handling that particular comment like you did. I know sooner or later things will come out in the open, probably the charity event undoubtedly, but it means a lot for you to still keep this close to the vest still. And you are hot too, which helps. Love you.

The doors open again and Miranda gestures in Calum’s periphery. He looks up to see her holding out his handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep it so that you have no excuses for not wearing your glasses?” Calum laughs.

Miranda’s body half way between the doors keeps them from shutting but she eyes him, lips curled up in an unamused smile. “I think it’s a little inappropriate.”

“And I think you should be able to see.”

“Take it,” she orders, waving the cloth at him to take it. “I have a lens cloth in my office.”

Calum edges closer to the opening of the machine. She refuses to meet his gaze and it makes the suspicion increase tenfold. “Show me. Because if you’re lying.”

“Oh, fine,” Miranda huffs. “I lost it. The same fucking day I got the damn glasses and I lost the cloth.”

“Then keep it,” he laughs. “I’ve got too many of them anyway.”

“Thanks,” she mutters and then starts down towards her office.

“You’re welcome,” Calum calls out watching the doors slide closed.

His attention turns back to your text even with the tuft of laughter he releases at Miranda’s stubbornness. I hope I wasn’t too harsh on her. But thank you, baby. I’ll keep that in mind for later. He adds a winking emoji before continuing on, Is it bad yet for you guys? Love you more. He asks even though he’s sure he won’t get a response until either your next break or until you leave for the night. But he sends it anyway and swipes through his other missed messages.

There’s one from Luke in the groupchat, We’ve got Forest reserved at 5:00 PM the Saturday before Michael’s birthday. The restaurant does close earlier than most at 8 just as a heads up.

Calum hadn’t been fully aware that Forest was even an option for the dinner. He’d tossed out a few options, one was a sushi place that Michael loved for late lunch or a really early dinner and the other was a French inspired cuisine. But it wouldn’t shock Calum if he’d lost track of the names. It does make Calum wonder if it would be feasible to ask you to join. Would it be too awkward for you?

There’s a few more texts in the chat so Calum scrolls down. Ashton asks about the other options they’d discussed and Luke replied that they’d been booked for the time for the time or wouldn’t let reservations be made this far in advance. Forest has a three week window for reservations which allows them to get to the slot now. Given how rapidly schedules shift, Calum knows it’s better to take this now rather than wait too much longer.

Luke, how many did you confirm for? Calum asks.

They can only support a group of 12 max. So I went with that. I can keep checking other places too in the meantime.

Calum settles into his office chair, popping a few more buttons at his dress shirt. A text from Michael comes through. Forest is cool with me. My parents and I are doing things on my actual birthday. We should be good at 12. There’s you three, me, our plus ones and then a couple dudes I worked with previously I’d want to do dinner with. We can say 9 for a bigger group at some local bars and then call it a night by midnight if that’s cool?

Sounds good to me, Luke replies.

Cool with me, Calum answers and Ashton replies with the same sentiment of an affirmative.

Calum wipes to take him back to his text message threads and taps on your name. Michael’s birthday dinner is going to be 5PM on the 17th. It’s at Forest. Do you know if you’ll be working?

The answer feels like a no. You wouldn’t know because he doubts the schedules made that far out in advance. But Calum prays. He hopes maybe by the cosmos divine art you can see the text message here soon. A watch pot never boils and his eyes glued to the screen won’t make you respond faster. So Calum turns back to his office computer, saves some work for the templates, and data collection. It is a Friday and there’s very little work that he’ll be able to get done or want to get done at this moment.

The elevator settles and the doors open up to the residency hall. Calum, if he ever had a tie on, would absolutely be tugging it off his neck as he walks towards his bedroom door. Instead, he only has the buttons he works at on his shirt. There’s still no text from you. He knows the dinner rush has gone up in its major swing. But when his phone buzzes, and Calum checks it to be sure if it’s not you, he contemplates if he’s going to agree to the schedule he made of working out in the evenings. He knows he should. There’s been a lot of time spent indoors, cooped up by his computer and various documents. It’ll be good for him, even if it’ll hurt just a little, so Calum pulls himself free from the dress pants, shirt, and shoes. He dawns himself into the basketball shorts, his workout sneakers and a t-shirt. He even takes the stairs back down.

The air is crisp outside; it hits his lungs sharply and Calum’s grateful for it. The grass crunches just a little under his feet as he settles the free weights down. Calum starts with stretches, trying to loosen the left hip that likes to get a bit stiff on him. It’s an old injury, probably from one of the few times Calum pushed himself a little too hard in games. He hardly feels it when he’s on top of his physical therapy regime. But he falls off every few weeks when things get busy and the stiffness makes itself known more and more. Calum knows he should coordinate another appointment with his physical therapist about it. Maybe during the holiday break he’ll snag an appointment.

His headphones play a thrash of guitars, the high tssing of the symbols on the drum kit come filtering through. Calum pulls the dumbbell up, the tightening of his bicep letting him know he’s doing the exercise right. As much as it can feel like a drag, as much as the weights do get heavier as the sets go on, Calum finds the small sliver of peace. When he’s got no thoughts but keeping track of his reps. The motions are up and down, the brace of his core, the inhale and exhale. Calum focuses on the press, the pushing of the ground away from his body as he goes through a round of pushups.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

His music lowers for a moment, a chime louder than his music. Calum keeps pushing up, taking himself back down, and then pushing back up. Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six. Another chime cuts through.

Forty.

His knees brush the ground first as he releases his plank and digs out his phone. I wish I’d seen this sooner, reads your reply. Turner just asked me if I was okay with working that day because of a large party and I said yes.

Calum pants, the sweat running down the lines of his face. Though it’s cold outside, the jumping jacks, the exertion of his exercises have made him sweat. Calum can’t lie, part of him is tempted to ask if you could switch out the hours, but he knows. You’re not just working to kill time in the day. You’re working to survive. You’re working to take care of yourself and potentially as it looms your siblings too.

Calum wipes at his brow before working over the screen to reply. Well, the invitation for you to join for drinks after will still stand if you’re up for it.

Sounds good. I’ll make sure Michael’s well taken care of though. Promise. To make up for missing out on the festivities, could you find out his favorite sweet treat?

Calum nods without thinking. I will. Let me know when you get home, yeah?

Of course. Also, to answer your earlier question: it’s busy as fuck. I’m literally in the freezer right now trying to compose myself just for a second.

Calum snorts at the mental image--you in your uniform tucked into the walk-in freezer. But he also knows what it means, just how busy things have gotten. A piece of guilt rises up in his throat, like bile it burns. He’d never meant to make things worse. He never meant to put you in such positions. But nothing changes what’s happened. The only thing now is forward. The only thing now is what could be made of what’s happening in the present.

Tell the tomatoes to be kind to you, Calum replies.

“Don’t tell me I need to call the nurse with the way you’re breathing.”

Calum looks up to his father, who grins down at him. Calum laughs at the quip, as patchy as it comes. “No, no need to call the nurse.”

“Dinner’s ready, you know. Pretty sure it’s some fancy pasta I’ll never be able to pronounce."

With how thick the early evening is around them, how dark it is for only how early it feels, Calum is not shocked that it is dinner time. He nods, wiping at his dripping brow again. “I need to clean up but I’ll be there in a minute.”

His dad lingers and the words are pressing at the back of Calum’s teeth, if everything is okay, but his dad beats him to the punch. David grunts as he lowers himself into the grass next to Calum. “You’ll help me up, right?”

“Yeah, Pops, I will. What’s up? I thought dinner was ready with some fancy pasta you can’t pronounce.”

“It is, it is. But I was, well, I know there’s been a lot of conversation that’s sort of up in the air about when me and your mother are going to take a step back from the game. And I know it’s something you’re thinking about. You did real well in your press conference today. I do think that sometimes the best solutions are the most simple ones. I just wanted to see when the two of us could really sit down and talk about what that transition will look like and when we’re both comfortable with it. And, and I’m not asking we do it right now. But soon, in the new year, we look at our schedules and find a good day for it.”

It’d been an ever approaching deadline--something that would happen and would happen sooner rather than later. But it still felt far away in praxis. Transitioning of power was a thing that was approaching but it hadn’t hit the horizon. Now, though, as Calum watches his father, he thinks perhaps he’d been counting on at least a couple more years, something closer to thirty than not but nothing ever happens like anyone wants for it too.

Calum nods though at his father’s request. “Yeah, we can find a time for that.”

“Good, good,” David returns, patting at Calum’s knee. “And things are okay? Anything you need to talk about?”

“Things are okay.” They’re far from perfect, but they’re not bad. Yet, Calum doesn’t voice that. The balance in the universe was not to make things perfect by his definition.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. You alright?”

“It’s--it’s just life, Dad. You know? Every up has a down.”

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

From the night, Calum catches the scratch of the crickets tuning up for the night time songs. The darkness is closing in rapidly and ruthlessly. As much as Calum did want to voice his concerns, he also knows his father is going to be a solution oriented person. The second a problem crops up, his father wants to find a solution for it. Calum’s not really looking for solutions right now. “It’s anthills,” Calum answers. Because they are, they are small concerns in the grand scheme of everything. “But I can handle them. I know I can.”

“Well, if you need reinforcements, I got your back.”

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

“And, and if you need to just vent, I’m here for that too.”

It’s anthills. And they were small, but still mighty. “Guess, it’s just sort of scary to know I’ll actually be taking over, you know? It was real, but was always sort of in the distance.”

“It is scary,” David agrees. “It’s very scary. But just because you’d be taking over doesn’t mean I’m not there to help. Consider me a consultant.”

“What’s your retainer fee?” Calum jokes, watching the grin bloom on his father’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. But it’s okay if it’s scary. You’re human doing something new for the very first time. It’s going to be scary. And the next time you do something for the first time, that’ll be scary too. But the more you do the things, the less scary it gets you know. It’s like when you learned to drive. You were terrified to get behind that wheel. But look at you now. A driving whizz. It’ll take you some time, but I’ll still be there for you. Promise, son.”

It’s reassuring, certainly. Calum won’t be doing it all alone, but it’ll be his face and his name that’s riding on everything that comes after the transition. That’s the part that terrifies him. Yet, Calum can’t control what hasn’t happened yet. To worry about what hasn’t happened wouldn’t only serve to paralyze Calum in the long run. But the fear bubbles, like a pot left on simmer, Calum can feel it in his gut. It’s going to be a strange time. “Thanks, Pops,” Calum offers softly.

“You’re welcome. Now, help me up, yeah?”

Calum laughs as he works himself up. “No one told you sit down on the grass.”

“Oh, hush.”

It’s with a few grunts, but Calum helps his dad up. “You good?” Calum asks and gets a nod in response. “I’m going to get these weights inside and at least wash my hands and face before joining you and Mum.”

“See you inside.”

Calum’s left with a pat on his back, but as the night chirps around him, he hopes that he’s not really alone in all of this. The weights are a little heavier than they were before but Calum gets them up with no issue. He ducks into one of the bathrooms on the first floor, washing his hands before splashing water over his face. He watches the water drip down his chin. He wants to tell you--how scared he is, how much he doesn’t want to do this, but knows he’s got no other choice. But will it seem trivial?

Yet somehow right behind the doubt, he hears your voice, telling him that it doesn’t matter if it’s small, all that matters is that he’s scared. And that it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, Calum chants to himself down the hallway and back into the kitchen. It’ll all be okay. Because it has to be okay. Because it’s been six years of Calum in Cabinet and it’s all worked out so far. So it’ll keep working out in the end.

“Oh, you stink,” Joy laughs, as Calum slides into the bench across the table.

“I washed my hands and face at the very least,” he grins-- a rule ingrained into him from his childhood.

She shakes her head, sliding the plate closer his way. “At least there was that.”

The warm water is a welcomed reprieve, after dinner and clambering his way back upstairs, Calum can feel himself craving bed. It’s early, he knows. But the fear from transition is heavy on his bones. It’s not even late enough for you to be off work so he can’t call as you drive back to your apartment. And he wants to stay awake long enough for that, for the hum of your drive and the soft lull of your voice.

But in the stillness, Calum holds to the quiet voice in the back of his head. What will it all mean when he takes over? All the while you asked him what he wanted to do, what really made him happy, and all the while Calum answered that he would always do his duty, he would serve. And he’d be proud to serve; he is. But his father has already been the crutch. Calum’s never been on his own doing this. Does he actually want to do it? Or is this just the natural reaction of fear?

It all feels like being underwater. When he falls into his mattress, Calum feels the whoosh of air like a head ducking under the surface of water. There is a world above him--the duty he’s always followed, the path that always felt like loomed before him no matter what twists and turns he took in his life. But he is in the water, arms scoping water at his sides to keep him afloat and his movements feel slow and sluggish. Is this really all that he’s wanted? Could it all be just the things Calum’s told himself to believe so it makes it feel less like force and more like choice?

The ticking of the clock is long, but at some point his ears goes numb to the sound, focused instead of keeping up with the race of his thoughts. He chases them round and round as they go.

The ringing of his phone pulls him back up and out of the rush and thump of his internal dialogue. Calum fumbles for a moment to get the phone off the charger, but when he finally gets a firm grip, he answers the call.

“Hi, love,” you answer--certain and confident that it’s even Calum who’s answered.

“Hi, baby,” he returns, falling back down into the mattress again.

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

“How’d you know?” he laughs. To him, he sounds all the same. But the immediacy in your question makes him wonder if he’s really as good as he thinks at keeping things under wraps with you.

“Just a feeling,” you return.

“I think my number’s been called. Dad wants to talk in the new year about transitioning out of power.”

You hum. In the background, Calum hears the beeps of cars, the rush of the wind as you walk, probably to your car. “It was always coming. But I sense something more.”

“It’s scary. Didn’t think it would be so soon. Don’t know if it’s fear or genuine how much I’m worried about taking over.”

“Fear of what?” you question. “Fear just because it’s new or something else?”

Calum pulls his phone from his hear, tapping to switch the conversation to speakerphone. It’s buying him time. Because if he says it out loud, it feels like he’s making it true. But he’s not going to hide from you. He won’t let himself do that. “Fear that I don’t know what I really want.”

“We’re all afraid of that.” Your voice echoes against the four walls of his room, fills the space in such a way that he could hardly imagine that you’re just in the bathroom.

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

“It’s a means to an end. Something that I can use anywhere to make ends meet. I like cooking, at the end of the day it helps me not feel so bad about life. But I don’t know if I was put on this planet just to cook or not.”

“I guess that’s the question, huh. Have I been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

“Well,” you start, a pause echoes with the thud of your car door. “Have you? Have you been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

He wants to say no. But if he’s honest, this has always been the end of the line for him. Taking over as King was his finish line. That was the stamp on his youth, to mail it off and close down the chapter. Calum’s always thought that this is in fact the end. It’s a means to an end. But even if Calum wants to agree that he hasn’t been put on this earth just to wind up as King, he doesn't know what else is there?

“But what am I if not meant to be King?”

“Well, you’re Calum. Who trained for a summer in Brazil for football, who plays the guitar, writes some songs. You’re Calum who loved his dog for every second he walked the earth. You’re Calum who baked his mother a birthday cake and it actually held together. You’re Calum, who manages to find just the right words when they’re needed, who loves deeply and selectively. And you’ll be so much more too. But the truth of the matter, you will never find that answer in a day, in just one conversation. It’ll take years. You’ll be a King, and work in politics, and be so much more. This is not an either-or situation, maybe. I know I asked previously about it. And I apologize if that made it seem like you had to choose. Perhaps, you don’t have to choose.”

Perhaps, you don’t have to choose. “Yeah,” Calum agrees, gaze focusing in on his ceiling. He does actually miss those stars now that he thinks about it. He wonders where he could find the stencils again. Would it be stupid to paint them back? “Maybe you’re right.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood au #prince!calum #calum hood x reader #calum hood x gender neutral reader #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #h writes

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ladylooch · 5 months ago

Note

How did Emma’s and Timo’s daddy kink come about? Because I feel like at first Emma is still scared and nervous but Timo just embraces because he’s dreamed of all of this with her

Mmmm well to get to the daddy kink, we must first explore the acceptance of the reality of becoming parents.

Emma comes to terms with her pregnancy when she returns to New Jersey from Switzerland. Yes, she is sick and overwhelmed. But she knows immediately she has a true partner in Timo. He is doing everything he can to support her while also being conscientious of the fact that she needs some space as she adjusts to their new life. Hell, he needs that too.Once that happens, the daddy kink is born pretty quickly.

Emma catches on because Timo gets turned on when her belly pops. Like instantly. The first time he comes back from a road trip and she's popped a bit, he is FERAL for her. Then again the next morning. He is insatiable and Emma is thrown for a loop with how often he wants to be inside of her. Thennnn she catches him holding and looking at her bump mid- cahoots. So she pokes the bear.

"Looking at me making you a daddy?"

Timo comes so fast. Like SO SCORCHINGLY fast. Emma's mouth drops open and she giggles when he is done. He groans, wiping a hand over his face before he makes eye contact with her.

"You like this?" She asks, drawing a heart with her finger around her expanding belly button.

"So much." He nods.

"What specifically?"

"When you call me daddy."

"Timo!" She laughs. "Who knew!?"

"Not me." He laughs with her. He puts his big hand on her small bump, smiling down at it. "Not until you, babe" He finishes, stroking his thumb across their unborn child.

#tm: loving & leaving

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lakegelid · 29 days ago

Text

She was named Violet. The V was for Vision.

Later, she became Scarlet. Her opposite in visible light, but so close around the span of the wheel. Just a single step’s difference, really. Hardly different at all, she could tell herself.

—

He told me that every man and every woman is a star. Said we are all a universe unto ourselves. I told him it sounded like he was quoting something.

“Ninety years hence,” he muttered between flat lips while lighting a joint.

Voice-tinged-metal with smoke, he said in that moment I reminded him of the goddess Astraea, said she was the last truly immortal thing to walk this earth. Cast out for the sake of the paradigm, those were his words. She became a constellation.

Virgo.

V. For Vision.

—

I sat there, eyes shut, running my fingers idly through the shag-carpeted interior of Hunter’s 1971 Dodge Tradesman, which he had some time that last summer dubbed the ‘Nim-rod’. I tried very hard to pretend I didn’t have a body, to pretend that I was just an unconscious mind unmoored across space and time, and not twenty-two and very sick on mushrooms in a smelly van out in the north woods, being lectured about the ‘hologram nature’ of reality by a guy I knew better than to like as much as I did.

“Hit?”, Hunter asked in my direction, equal parts concern and amusement in his voice.

I sucked air in through my teeth, not sure if my stomach was reporting lizard-brained hunger or the leaden weight of nauseatic urgency. I decided to let it ride. “Keep working on it,” I said, studying the dome light through my eyelids, “I’ll let you know if I wanna polish it off.”

Hunter made a sort of harsh consonant noise in affirmation, and I heard a soft cherry sizzle as he sucked away at his dubois. I let go of the carpet, the plush impression lingered on my fingertips for what became an uncomfortably long time.

“Mm,” I grunted, clearing my nose with a hard sniff, then wheezed. “Smells nice. What’s this one called? Don’t tell me if it’s gross.”

Hunter sat silent for a moment. “Cheetah piss,” he said, holding an inhale, the play of a lying smile in his voice. “And I put the last of the chief in it, that’s why it’s so, uh, floral.”

“I said don’t tell me!”, one eye slitting open just brave enough that I could lob a kick at him, and miss.

“Anyway, I got it from the Reverend. I’m surprised you don’t recognize it. Your place must reek of the stuff, what with his, uh—”.

I cut him off, warning, “Hunter.”

“What?”, he complained flatly, but decided it wasn’t worth the retread. “Okay, whatever. I got it from him. Says a guy from a place I don’t remember grew it. Sounded like — who was that scientist — ‘Avogadro’, maybe.”

“From Alla-Gadda?”, I asked, sitting upright, squinting intently.

“Bingo,” he said, taking another drag. “Hey, you want any of this? It’ll be down to the dregs soon.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” I said, reaching out, hoping the shakiness in my voice sounded like it was drug-induced. “Lemme finish it.”

“Atta girl. I knew you’d feel better.”

—

Within thirty minutes I was back on I-39, sending the Nim-rod complaining into the red zone, which it did at around 65 miles per hour. If what I thought was happening was, in fact, happening, there was precious little time. If not, well, I could tell Hunter I bugged out. I’d probably tell him that, anyway. He’d forgive me.

I had lifted the keys when he went off to relieve himself in the camp outhouse. Of course, I didn’t leave him totally out of sorts. It was a beautiful night, and I dumped his sleeping bag and other effects before heading out. In the morning he could use the office’s phone, and one of his friends or coworkers could be out to get him by noon.

Really, he’d be fine. He’d have a funny story about being stranded in the woods by a girl on a bad shroom trip, and win some sympathy from his buds in the process.

I clicked on the dome light, unfolding over the wheel a road map of Wisconsin that probably came with the van. Fucking podunk town was always so hard to find. The Lake made sure of that.

My eyes were swimming and struggling to focus as they darted between the map and the weak beams illuminating the road ahead, so it was a gut-punch when I finally noticed my vision changing. It had shifted in its subtle totality into a four-color pallet, stark and horrible, matching the ink of the map.

Black. Yellow. Red. White.

The Humors of Alla-Gadda.

This was bad. Oh, this was so very bad.

I tossed the map onto the bucket seat, in turns swearing, hyperventilating, and pounding the wheel with my palm. I got halfway through a set of Hail Marys before I had to slam on the brakes and throw up out the window.

It only made me feel worse.

#porta lucis #violet #alla-gadda #the lake #world of darkness

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sohannabarberaesque · 4 months ago

Text

Postcards from Snagglepuss

So what exactly goes into a Character Convocation?

RECOVERING FROM THE JULY 4TH CELEBRATIONS IN CLEAR LAKE, IOWA: For one, such convos could be considered as a way for many of us fellow Hanna-Barbera character types to get together in common purpose and company and share much in the way of common issues and problems, not to mention common interests and anecdotes.

As if the renewal of acquaintenances with old fans and new wasn't exactly common enough, as witness appearances at the parades, carnival areas and any other common areas of celebration for the festivals which we time the Convocations around. But we like to make such appearances the impromptu sort, when one least expects it, not unlike some theme parks.

As a matter of fact, yours truly and Huckleberry Hound, who share these road tripping experiences in this space, couldn't help but share much in the way of acquaintenances with fellow characters and the public. Like on the Friday evening in the carnival area, finding the Cattanooga Cats (didn't they have a song called "Country Carnival" in their repretoire?) keeping as much late hours as sharing much in the way of the excitement inherent in especially the newer generation of carnival rides and distractions--though Groove, in the case of one particularly thrilling ride, couldn't help but throwing up afterwards. Some rides, it seems, weren't meant for such who may think they're macho, but in Reality may hardly be the case.

At least one visitor sensed Groove's situation and gave him a half-litre bottle of Starry lemon-lime soda to ease the discomfort. Thankfully, Groove didn't quite see stars dancing around his head.

During one especially fascinating walkabout on Saturday during the arts-and-crafts fair, no less than Sheriff (bhling! bhling! bhling!) Ricochet Rabbit made his presence felt, looking for some objets d'art tending to an Old West theme and feel, look even ... even going so far as to remark that, in his secondary role as a small-time rodeo announcer, he even put in his name to do some announcing work at Iowa's most famous rodeo, the Sidney Iowa Championship Rodeo. (Sidney, if you ask, is in extreme southwest Iowa off I-29 about halfway between Omaha and Kansas City.) End of July/early August, to be exact, but beforehand, his calendar sees him calling small-time rodeos in Nebraska, Wyoming and South Dakota.

"And the crowds can't help but resist my style!"

Too, we couldn't help but join with Magilla Gorilla in sharing some dark chocolate-covered frozen bananas ("I read somewhere that dark chocolate might actually have some health benefits, as if those found in bananas weren't good enough already for this growing boy!"--Magilla), which at least beat more conventional ice cream bars when you get to thinking about it. "Even at about $4 a pop," Magilla remarked, "it's not a bad choice of snack."

Yet when signing autographs, yours truly does admit going a little for the flamboyant, almost theatrical even, and Huck may be a bit on the simple and unpretentous side. Still, pretty much every one of us in the pantheon has a distinctive style all his own, even if some in the vein of Scooby-Doo, the Hair Bear Bunch and the Cattanooga Csts even, work paw prints in as well ... and manage not to have the old John Hancock look like, as the poet once put it, "it had been written with a thumbnail dipped in tar."

Oh--and ere we forget about Peter Potamus' invite to join him for a little diving into Clear Lake proper: Over breakfast on Sunday morning at a small-time diner, Peter mentioned that he had his nephew Patrick along as well as underwater photographer Squiddly Diddly and Breezly Bruin for that particular experience. And even if it was his Magic Balloon that was along, "just be assured," the dive-happy hippo remarked, "that an interesting time underwater is sure to be in store. And then some!" (What with his mentioning on the side that afterward, he'd be joining the Three Wolves and the Divin' Wolf Pups as were having a diver's holiday on Lake Okoboji ... and wouldn't it be interesting if we joined them as well?)

More to come ...

@warnerbrosentertainment @iheartgod175 @funtasticworld @zodiacfan32 @theweekenddigest @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @archive-archives @hanna-barberians @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @hanna-barbera-blog @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @hanna-barbera-land @warnerbros-blog1 @indigo-corvus @jellystone-enjoyer @railguner34 @groovybribri @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #fanfic #fanfiction #road trip #postcards from snagglepuss #character convocation #clear lake iowa #walkabout #meet and greet #signing autographs #get together #hannabarberaforever

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mariacallous · 6 months ago

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VSquare:

WIRETAPPING SCARE IN HUNGARIAN MINISTRY DEALING WITH CHINESE PROJECTS

Xi Jinping’s May 8-10 visit to Hungary is partly about negotiating and announcing new, China-financed railway projects. I reported this – and more on the background of Xi’s Hungary trip – last week. Viktor Orbán’s government appears extremely enthusiastic about Chinese rail projects and refuses to acknowledge any potential national security risks. However, behind closed doors, their attitude toward their Chinese counterparts seems markedly different, as illustrated by this amusing anecdote shared by a source familiar with a security incident from last year. According to the source, senior officials from the Hungarian Ministry of Construction and Transport, led by Minister János Lázár, received several model trains as gifts from Chinese partners involved in the Budapest-Belgrade railway reconstruction project. While this is standard practice in Chinese business culture, Hungarian ministry officials were so suspicious that they immediately sent the model trains for technical security examinations to check for any hidden wiretapping devices. My source revealed that the scan found no concealed bugs or cameras in the model trains. (The Ministry of Construction and Transport commented that the Chinese never brought "toys" as gifts, as the ministry is only involved in serious work instead of playing.)

SLOVAKIA’S FICO TRIES TO EMULATE ORBÁN’S CHINA POLICY

"Fico is trying to replicate Orbán's approach to China by attracting more and more Chinese investments to Slovakia," a well-connected Central European foreign policy expert told me during our discussion of Xi’s visit to Hungary. Fico and Orbán seem like brothers-in-arms, sharing similar pro-Russian and pro-Chinese foreign policies, but this means they may end up competing for future Chinese investments, particularly in the automotive and electric vehicle sectors. In 2022, Slovakia and Hungary fiercely competed for a Volvo EV factory, with Slovakia ultimately securing the €1.2 billion investment. "Fico wants to stay in power for at least ten years. To achieve this, he is working on stabilizing his popularity through investments in infrastructure, manufacturing, job creation, and tax revenue generation. My contacts say he's primarily following Orbán's playbook by relying more on China," my source explained. Evidence of this emerging strategy is already visible: Last year, a Chinese battery factory was announced for Šurany, a town in Slovakia’s Nitra Region, followed by announcements of major bridge, road, and railway reconstruction projects, including the Bratislava–Komárno railway line, this April.

“PRO-RUSSIAN” HUNGARIAN WEEKLY IN CENTER OF POLISH DEBATES

Hungary’s pro-Orbán weekly, Mandiner, featured a front-page interview with former Polish Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki as he attended the CPAC Hungary event in Budapest. The cover featured Morawiecki and the headline read, "Brussels is a threat to European democracy" displayed on billboards throughout Budapest. Current Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk criticized his rival, labeling him a "useful idiot" and calling the weekly "pro-Russian." This reminded me of a story I collected, but ultimately didn't publish, while working on our feature "How Orbán Angered His Closest Polish Allies," which explored the deterioration of Polish-Hungarian relations. That article recounted an incident where Magyar Nemzet, another pro-Orbán newspaper, declined to publish a Morawiecki op-ed on the war in Ukraine due to his "different approach" to the conflict. Additionally, a source connected to the Polish government informed me that in May 2022, Mandiner refused to publish an op-ed by Jakub Kumoch, then-adviser to Polish President Andrzej Duda, in print. The op-ed was pro-Ukrainian and anti-Kremlin. The op-ed eventually appeared online, but Mandiner claimed there was "no space" for it in the print edition. In reality, it was understood that Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán only reads the weekly in print, and editors didn't want to upset him with an article opposing his pro-Russian stance. Meanwhile, the Polish government at the time noticed that Mandiner editors allowed virulently anti-Polish comments to appear. Comments under articles by figures like pro-Law and Justice media owner Tomasz Sakiewicz included sentiments such as, "Poland should be divided between the Germans and the Russians. Scumbag warmongers." Interestingly, now that Law and Justice politicians are out of power, they seem to have forgotten how Orbán's government-controlled media once treated them. (Again, I really recommend this previous long read on Polish-Hungarian relations.)

ALLIES DEEPLY SUSPICIOUS OF HUNGARY’S AFRICAN MISSION

Some months ago, along with Direkt36 and Le Monde, we uncovered that Orbán’s son, Gáspár Orbán, is deeply involved in organizing a strange Hungarian military mission to Chad. Later, I also revealed that Orbán Jr. is secretly helping to set up his father’s new national security advisory team. I now have new information about Orbán and Orbán Jr.'s peculiar mission in Africa, which has left Hungary's NATO and EU allies puzzled. A Central European government official responsible for security matters told me that, according to their information, the alleged "counter-terrorism and migration-control" objectives of the Chad mission are merely a pretext. "What we've heard is that the Hungarian government also intends to establish a military intelligence center in Chad, which concerns us. Since Prigozhin's death and the disintegration of the Wagner group, Russia has lost some influence in Africa. We fear that this Hungarian military intelligence center could potentially serve Russian interests, and I suspect Kremlin officials like Sergey Lavrov, Russia's main face in Africa, encouraged the Hungarians," the official explained. "If Russia escalates the conflict in the coming years, we expect it to be multifaceted, and Africa and migration will likely be involved as well," the official added. Several NATO and EU representatives with whom I've spoken emphasized that the planned Hungarian mission is neither affiliated with NATO/EU nor the UN and wasn't coordinated within the NATO alliance. When I asked a NATO official knowledgeable about Russian affairs, they said, "It's definitely an unusual mission that doesn't serve any Hungarian interests, unless it's a scheme for some oligarch friend to profit and pay Putin back. Otherwise, it's a complete waste of resources and needlessly dangerous." Meanwhile, amidst escalating tensions in recent weeks, the United States has withdrawn its troops from both Niger and Chad, while the two African countries have strengthened their military cooperation with Russia. Despite the deteriorating security situation, a senior EU diplomat stationed in Budapest noted that Hungarian government contacts remain fully committed to deploying 200 soldiers to Chad.

FRESH LEAKS ON HUNGARY’S UPCOMING EU PRESIDENCY

Hungary will assume the EU's rotating presidency in the latter half of 2024, but no official program or agenda has been publicly disclosed. However, multiple diplomats from EU countries told me that the Orbán government intends to release the official program on June 10, a day after the European Parliament elections end. According to one diplomat, the Hungarian EU presidency seems underfunded, which could have been one of the reasons that preparations are delayed. A trusted journalist colleague, who wished to remain anonymous and uncredited, shared with me a draft schedule for Hungary's presidency as well as additional information. The present plan seems to be for Viktor Orbán to officially present the Hungarian presidency’s agenda at the European Parliament’s opening session in Strasbourg on July 17. Although everything is still subject to change, what seems to be most interesting is that the draft schedule, as well as information from Hungarian officials, indicates that an informal EU Council meeting is planned in Budapest for November. This summit is expected to focus on the Western Balkans, with heads of state and prime ministers participating. (Again, the Hungarian government did not respond to my request for comment.)

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popculturebuffet · 1 year ago

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Sam and Max Save the World Retrospective Finale: Bright Side of the Moon! (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy freelance police and after a short delay, we're finally back with the final chapter of telltale and skunkape's SAM AND MAX SAVE THE WORLD! Rest assured as the fact i've often called this the sam and max telltale retrospective shows, i'm nothing if not consistent, this isn't the end of the road as we'll be going onto it's sequel, Beyond Time and Space, next month and The Devil's Playhouse whenever the remaster comes out. If I need to stall for time we've got PLENTY of other sam and max content to shove down your ravenous max sized gullets.

But the future is the future and the past is a rainbow colored cult leader our heroes have to stop in order to Save the World. It's been a long strange trip.. and honestly some of the most fun i've had doing these reviews. As I said in the first chapter of this retrospective, and I feel bears repeating now we're at the end... I often don't quote jokes.. because there's so damn many. Trying to do reactoin images recently I had to rely on a best of montage because the game is around 7 hours long and just.. DENSE with quotable lines. And even with that I've had to pace myself and only done about half an hour simply because the writing is that sharp. The level design is also fantastic for the most part, and the puzzles aren't that obtuse and this again being the internet age, when they are it isn't a problem. That also brings me to a few odds and ends about the game as a whole I haven't really talked about. The first is the hint system. See I did try this in the first chapter, but felt max was just rambling and it was a joke.

Yeah the hint system is very helpful, it's just sometimes you have to ask twice because it's max we're dealing with. Kev told me it was and I just.. plain forgot for most of the game till this chapter. I was so used to the gameplay loop of trying it myself then using the guide I genuinely forgot I had an in game helper there. I still required it when I got stuck on one puzzle, but for the most part it makes the game so much easier. And of course being a professional I took the fact there was a really helpful tool I could've been using this whole time like a pro

The other thing is the dialouge changes to the remaster, waited on till now so I didn't run into any spoilers I hadn't already run into years before doing this retrospective. And look I know a lot of longtime fans of Sam and Max aren't fans of the changes... but they were necessary. The game was 14 years old at the time and none of these jokes had aged well. And in a LOT of cases the replacement joke is better. To use an example in Reality 2.0 originally the googles they have for max were desgined for "special needs children"

Yeah it wasn't funny THEN, should not have been made in the first place, and has only aged worse with time. By contrast the replacement is the COPS emphasising you can use it for various sporting activities. It's a more sam and max joke than "Hey let's laugh at children with disablities!". There were other just.. outright gross jokes like asking "Why the sex change" when bosco crossdresses in the final chapter (More on that later), and bosco implying he pretends to be an underaged girl online. which just

NONE of that was funny to start with, so taking it out of the game dosen't really hurt it. It only dosen't work when they don't sub in another joke, and that's more "If your going to all the trouble to edit out these lines, re-record the dialouge and fix stuff up why didn't you make a new joke when you have for OTHER lines you cut out?" And even then i'm sure there's a rational explination why Skunkape didn't. It's fine to touch up your work for a rerelease especially when said work is simply something your not proud of anymore. If it's okay for them to touch up the textures, add needed accesiblity options, and other neat stuff.. why isn't it okay to get rid of some offensive stuff that simply dosen't really fit sam and max?

Now those odds and ends are out of the way it's time to return to the moon to put an end to this hypnosis scheme, reconnect with some old friends, and save the world. Goody!

Chapter wise, Bright Side of The Moon is a strong contender for my faviorite. It is REALLY hard to pick betweent his one and The Mob, The Mole and the Meatball. Writing good as usual, but there's an epic scope, a genuine tension and unease, and it really feels like a grand finale to everything you've done up to this point, while still keeping the level design tight. The only real issue is the long walk from the blister of tranquility back to your car. And having to walk back a bit when you need to get back to sam and max's street is a common issue it's just emphasized here. But overal one hell of a finale gameplay wise. let's get into the story.

We open with Sam catching up ot the audience.. by complicated deduction, he figures out Hugh Bliss is behind things, and finds out from the Chief where he is: THE MOON ALICE... I mean the giant face was kinda a big clue. So our heroes head back to the moon! I covered their previously moon adventure recently if your interested. It's in large part because Bad Day on The Moon is one of the only two stories pre-telltale explictly refrenced in this trilogy, via the photos in the boys office, the other being Meet the Road, from which both bosco's this season and stinky's next season come form, simply fleshed out into fully explorable places here. There's nothing saying the other Freelance Police comics or tv show aren't canon, and it's likely light on call backs outside of hit the road to be accesible to new audiences. And possibly rights issues ala the tick, which REALLY needs a proper comics refresh that brings it all together. But that's a retrospective for another day (and if anyone's intrested let me know).

For now our heroes head to the moon, and we see our first of MANY character returns, as , fitting a season finale, at least one major character from every previous chapter shows up on the moon, now having joined Prismatology. The only exception is the soda poppers...

It's a mildly weird omission but I get why: they only needed four call back characters for the puzzles, their terrible and I hate them, and their the only group present on the moon that didn't intersect in some way with Hugh's plan, so there's no real reason for him to care about them.

And we do find out his plan.. and I like how it's revealed: you can just casually find out in the gift shop. That's it. Hugh just has his plan up there.

It also is a shockingly well thought out one, as each plan had a contegency.. and as we find out this episode Hugh had both a moon base and a final plan should all these fails. You gotta admire the guy for being through. And each one in the previous chapter was a seroius threat to the world, an amusing as hell one sure, but if our heroes hadn't stopped it Hugh woudl've likely conquered the us and eventually the world. And even if he couldn't do that last part , his controllign the us would at least stall for time long enough for him to carry out his masterstroke with no one to stop him.

You might also be noticing that Brady.. is absent. And that's because his plan, while kicking off our heroes knowing about hypnotisim.. wasn't planned. It's also nicely set up that way: unlike the others after ther'es never a reveal of a larger part of the conspiracy and his plan does nothing to help Hugh in the long run. It's just to make BRADY feel better and bigger, with his minons being chosen.. because their show was succesful and his wasn't. As for how Brady stole the protype goggles, also from the gift shop, hence Harry Mole now working as security. Thankfully he ONLY checks sam so we're able to smuggle a telekinesis talismen out in max... though we'll have to get it out later.

The TK Talismen is one of several we'll collect but first we have to get past sam and max's oldest and most dangeorus foe: DOORS!

Yes once again Agent Superball is guarding one. This time it's a bit easier though, as he gives us a unicorn which tests one's prismatology level. It also allows you to ask everyone "Want to touch my unicorn" which is just the best. Sam gives you the solution, pointing out how it likely works like a cheap mood ring, so you simply need to heat it up.. and I figured out HOW quickly... All it requires is a quick jaunt back to earth, as we start the adventure on the moon. Before we check in on Sybil and Bosco, I check the closet.. and also get the coat hanger for the tv again. Sadly... the last trophy room item is pretty weak, just the vr gag. There's a great and entirely close to home gag out of how they destroyed the internet

But it feels like a let down after the presidents head and leonard> Leonard is plot relevant this time as Max fed him the deed to america. Like the talisman we can't get it YET, but we shall. So it's time to check in with Bosco but before using his micro we see his deal for the episode: He's become his mother!.. no really he's pretending to be her and unlike most of his personas which are just a shoddy accent, he commits to the bit and it's hilarious. Gratned Sam and Max being.. shocked by this as much as they are has aged like wet cheese on the titanic, he's just wearing drag, but Max's frustration Bosco won't break character and eventually buying into the bit is comedy gold.

Anyways Bosco is selling an earthquake machine but as usual we can't buy it yet. We can however use his Microwave to cheat the system, and I do like that Bosco's various conviences are something that commonly come up to solve the puzzles. It's something you'd think of instantly given their always there, especially after the ketchups come in play twice and instead of calling you a dum dum for thinking that they just.. let you be right.

Before we go back to the moon though we check on Sybil and for her final random job.. and i'm goign to miss these as I didn't realize till Kev told me that next season your quest buddies change. Sybil and Bosco aren't written OUT, but I will be sad to see them not around as much.

WIth Sybil though I kinda get it as it's entirely hard to top her FINAL JOB... QUEEN. OF. CANADA. Yes really. It's both so entirely random and such an escalation from her previous more mundane jobs as dating service person, carbondater and beta tester. It's a cermonial thing but it's still just a heck of a reveal and a lot of fun with canadian sterotypes. I assume Red Green is her minister of ducktape and her minister of annoyance is of course.. Lorne

I assume he was one of Max's presidental pardons. I also assume one of the cofnidtions was he was shipped in a crate second class. It had at least one airhole though.. maybe... so that was nice of him.

At any rate this will naturally be useful to us later. It does give me a chance to talk about the gameplay loop though.. and how it works. You'd THINK after 6 chapters of "go to sybil or bosco to move the plot along" it'd get boring.. but honestly.. no. The writing is sharp, and each time things are radically different. I mean across these 6 chapters Sybil gets locked up by a patient, gives you a psyche eval, needs her death faked by you without her realizing it to save her from the toy mafia, has a dating service, gets her heart broken by you two via the lincoln memorial, beta tests and finally becomes queen of canada among some other shenanigans we'll get to. While with bosco he takes on various disguises, has some new doodad set up or someone hassling him, from jimmy twice, once as a skinbody once as himself, to whizzer.. you'll ALWAYS need to visit these two.. but they'll always have some funny stuff to say and something fresh. It's a way to recycle the enviornments sure but it dosen't feel stale. I can see why they swap them out next time: as sad as I was to find that out it DOES make sense to change your item buddies each game to keep things fresh.

Anywho, now we can get through the door via our bright red unicorn horn

So we're on to the next part of this episode and it's fairly straight forward: Hugh Bliss is in the deepest part of his blister of tranquilty, which is a very close second with Ted. E Bears to my faviorite setting of the game. It's weird rainbow amusment park complete with a roller coaster, a shark floating in acid, and as said earlier a gaggle of familiar faces from each chapter, each having a new prismatology talismen that grants a psychic power we need to get to the final section of the chapter. Starting with the most familiar of faces, we have Abe Lincoln, whose not really happy to see the guys who blew him up real good a few chapters ago. Hilariously though it's not any of the obvious reasons: he's fine being just a head, and as for loosing the presidency only a "grade a psyschopath" would want the roll. Max is naturally touched> I mean grade a. His real beef is that they ruined his chances with Sybil... deciding he wanted to get back out there. Max has.. several questions about that.. questions we thankfully don't here as otherwise the rest of this review would just be me rambling incoherently from madness. Not the BIGGEST difference mind but I like to at least have the illusion of quality control here.

Our heroes are happy to help and thus we get one of the funniest sequences in the entire game as the two have to feed abe lincoln pickup lines. It's easily the best of these long strings of "answer it right or go back to start" puzzles, as there are just enough options to get a LOT of great comedy out of Lincoln's horrible pickup lines and Sybil's annoyance, but not so long it becomes frustrating like the midtown cowboys stuff in episode 2. You successfully get the head of abe lincoln laid

And get us the talismen. The next one is an eye that can see through stuff and it's with our old friends the C.O.P.S. who are a TAD mad about our heroes taking away their goodhood, but allow them to beta test their game. Which once again and not with hyperbole, is one of the best jokes in all 6 chapters. Seriously the writing for this chapter is the peak of Save the World: In a post apocalyptic hellscae only the strong survive. Can you face the challenge of TIC, TAC, TOE?! Well you shouldn't as you need to loose. luckily the game just sorta. .had me loose. I was genuinly trying to win but either the game was rigged for me to, or the switch futzed it up. Either way , another talismen got. Now before we get our last one we need to open our present from the gift shop. Getting it out of max was easy, just use the gastronomy talismen, which I already had when I had him eat it. The hard part.. is getting the thing open. It took me ages and was the one puzzle that REALLY got me for this chapter. I looked it pu and it turns out it's simple. There's a lunar landar outside you can get into, using your coathanger, netting the key. You simply place the talismen under it, activate the lander which can only go up an ddown and boom, telekensis kyle. Well specifically bending anything similar to a spoon, which is clever. Is the puzzle frustrating? yes. Is the prize worth it? yes. So with that our final talismen, which allows you to pull jimmy out of a hat. Just him. To get it we talk to Philo Pennyworth, the most welcome return of all. I mean I fucking love the COPS but i've got minor spoilers they'll be in the next two games. I don't think Philo shows up nearly as much so his long awaited return was appricated. He can pull jimm y out of his hat but since jimmy's clinging to a parking meter to avoid more shenanigans from our heroes, we have to bend him off. With that philo pulls him out and is disgusted enough to let us have his talismen.

With that we can enter hugh's sanctum, which is neat, using the spoon bender to open the door, the eye to see so we can bend the door and jimmy to hit the switch.

Normally this would be where our heroes confront our villian, violence and some puzzles and jokes ensue... but in a clever twist on telltale's part... Hugh KNEW they were coming, would likely do some shenanigans to get into his sanctum and presumibly what htey had for lunch. For the record it was a hamsteak with extra gravy and extra ham and an all dress flavor stygian being of questionable origin. It also turns out our heroes are too late as while Hugh didn't do it 25 minutes ago.. his plan is already set up: to use a crystal thing with him in the center to make EVERYONE on earth Hugh bliss.

As for WHY he'd do that, it turns out he's a sentient colony of plankton and eats emotions, a neat and utterly batshit twist, and his translucent look he takes on for a second is genuinely unsettling. Really Hugh's entire demeanor post turn is unsettling as he's still got that squeaky sing song voice, think Regular Shows Pops if he snorted hellium.. but instead of being just.. blindly happy and a tad hammy, you can also sense his malice and pride at what he's done. Sure guys gotta eat but he's just so gleeful. Now granted you could poke holes in this , say there were easier ways than mass hypnosis to get a free emotoinal meal, etc etc... but you have to remmeber what game we've been playing for the past 6 months

So it REALLY dosen't matter and the fact Hugh went to all this lengths is likely part of the joke. But the one thing that can stop endless bliss? Max. His chaos is the one thing that can possibly upset this plan... so Hugh lured him here to steal his bliss... so he takes out his sloth, hunger and violence, leaving Max a shell, Sam disturbed and our heroes needing to round up three other maxes to restore him to proper zaniness and resotre the world. First up is Red Max, all of max's anger and violence.. and he's SHOCKINGLY disturbing. Usually max' s violent tendencies are played for laughs, the violence done off screen. This max.. has a gun, laughs manically and is geninely creepy. Dispatching him is nicely tricky but not too bad once you think it out: being a max, red max jumps around, jumpsa round, get up get up get down.. and his stalking grounds just so happen to be right next to the roller coaster. This.. really just gives him a fun ride, but luckily there's a big ole chekov's spork on the track, and since it's spon adjacent, you can bend it, send Red Max for a ride.. and disarm him. Or dishand him. Max gets his rage back and we're on to our next one.

Our next max to collect is the Green max, who being the embodiment of max's endless hunger for sentient planets and artifical cheese, is currently terroizing boscos. Suprisingly you DON'T use the gastrolgy talismen which is good as i'm pretty sure the contents of Green Max's stomach at this point would get Telltale brought up on obscenity charges. The solution is no less horrific though: you FEED HIM JIMMY. Yes you have him eat a rat.. which to be fair i'm sure Max's has done at some point but is still pretty .. eeeuuugh. We use the magician's hat from fethearly to pull him and max's stomach out which is way less graphic than it sound but still will haunt my nightmares for many moons to come, and thus max has his hunger back.

All that's left is sloth which, while max is OCASIONALLY lazy is the only one tha tdosen't quite fit. This max just... lays on the moon. To get him we finally give Sybil her due in one of the funniest callbacks of the game. So you remember how max was feeding the deed to the united states to leonard?

Turns out you need to get him to cough it up, give the deed to Cybil and canada now owns the untied states!

Seriously I.. don't see a downside. With that she gives us the money for bosco who charged a zillion dollars this time. I also love his justification "All I know is I keep making up the biggest price I can think of and you guys keep paying it, now tell me, whose crazy?". With that we have the earthquake machine.. aka the last of his satlite network. I'd also be remiss if I didn't point out the finally "do you have any" gag. See the rest are all just a great stream of Sam asking Bosco for random stuff. This one though.. turns out EVERY ONE is a solution to a previous puzzle. It's fucking glorious especially with Max's mounting bafflement that in all the things sam asked for he never asked for these when heneeded them. Bosco DOSEN'T have hugh bliss tied up back there, but can't blame Sam for trying. It's a brillaint payoff to what's already one of the best running gags in the series.

So with that we head, whoah oh, back to the moon again, and use the satlite to flip lazy max over, take his tale and max is' restored. With that we're FINALLY to the finale, with Hugh, mad they were able to beat him, deciding to put on a show.. specifically putting Sam thorugh a ton of magic stuff while max watches from the crystal chamber thing. It's easily the best climax of the whole game: tense, fun, and using every talismen you've gotten so far to turn the tables on hugh before using the lunar lander to finish him off. Hugh Bliss is no more. Problem is.. the machine goes off so now everyone is maxified. Our heroes naturally have a solution for that though... PUNCH EVERY PERSON IN THE WORLD. I'm.. not exagerating or underplaying it. That's how season 1 ends. Our heroes are happy, the world is saved and Max is going to punch every last person to de-max them. And that would honestly be a perfect ending to a perfect season of gammery.. but this being sam nad max they took it one last step further for the credits.... which is max punching EVERY single character we've seen, or most of them at least to the games best song. I didn't think you could top War.. but .. here we are

youtube

It both beautifully sums up max, and is a relaxing and hilaroius way to close out a relaxing and hilaroius game. I can't stop listening to it, not that i've tired very hard. It's so damn good. It utterly baffled me when I saw it, but I still loved it. I can't belivie THIS I show they ended it.. but I can't imagine a more perfect ending to this game. As an added touch the menu music for the remaster is an insturmental of this so it makes a nice bookened for your adventure.

So with that we've closed out Save the World.. and this may be one of the funnest experinces i've had reviewing. It not only opened me up to finally reviewing games, with more to come, but I got to play a game i'd long craved to , got paid for it and enjoyed every second of it. All thanks to kev. While this only ends the first third of this project.. it dosen't make it any less special or hard to say good bye to this game. This was true fun and I thank so many of you for reading... and see you next month for round 2.

#sam and max #sam and max save the world #sam #max #sybil pandemik #bosco #hugh bliss #telltale games #skunkape games #Youtube

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